After putting the Penicillin in the fridge, Buffy joined the couple on the couch in front of the television. Oz leaned forward and picked a plastic bag off the floor and handed it to her. "What's this?"

"We figured we were staying overnight," Willow explained. "So we picked up some clothes and stuff for you and me while we were out. Oz had a change of clothes in the van."

"Spike told me once the couch in the upstairs sitting room folds out," Oz said. "And there's a trundle bed in the small bedroom."

"You guys don't have to stay," Buffy told them.

"We know," Willow replied. "But we want to. Plus, we get to play in this cool house."

Buffy looked around the large room, taking in the large entertainment center, shelves upon shelves of books, movies and CDs lining the surrounding walls. Two overstuffed couches, end tables, a coffee table and a rocking chair sat in front of the entertainment center. Plants, freestanding lamps and artwork decorated the great room. The several windows in the room were boarded over from the inside and a baby grand piano was sitting in front of black spray painted French doors. In one corner, she saw a toy chest with a wooden rocking horse near it. "I don't want to know how he got this house," she commented, thinking about the children's room she saw upstairs.

"He bought it for a hundred bucks," Oz said. Buffy looked at him as if he had grown two heads. "He met a guy in a bar whose wife and kid died in a car accident. The guy wanted to escape, but couldn't because of all the bills and the house, so Spike bought it from him and agreed to pay off all of his debts. I guess the two of them passed out here and when Spike got up the next night, the dude was gone only taking his clothes and photos."

"You're kidding," Buffy said. Oz shook his head no. "How in the world does he pay for it then, the bills and the mortgage and electricity and whatever else?"

"He's a hacker," Willow answered with a grin and an excited bounce. "He's way better than me, too."

"What did he do? Rob a bank online?"

"No," Oz replied. "What he did was ingenious, actually. He picked several overly large companies that make electronic business transactions daily, then routed one cent from random deposits to his own accounts set up all over the world."

"One cent? That's not very much," Buffy said.

"Multiply that one cent by the number of deposits made per day, then by the number of companies," Willow explained. "He's making close to $100,000 a day! I can't wait to go downstairs and check out his computer."

Buffy's mouth dropped open. "Wow." A loud knock sounded on the door, making her jump. Oz rose to his feet and ambled to it.

"Pizza's here," Willow told her, standing as well to go to the kitchen to get napkins and drinks.

Oz returned with the pizza and set it on the coffee table, then joined Willow on the second couch. "Dig in," he instructed, opening the box.

After a few minutes of eating, Buffy looked thoughtfully at her friends. "You guys seem to know an awful lot about Spike."

"We're friends," Oz repeated the statement he made earlier.

"But why?"

"He called to ask a question and we got to talking," Oz answered Buffy. "He's cool."

"And Oz tells me stuff," Willow added, smiling at her boyfriend.

"I thought you told me stuff, too, Will," Buffy said.

"I promised Oz I wouldn't," Willow told her. "Spike's kind of a private person."

"Actually, the cat has already escaped the bag," Oz said.

"What?" Buffy asked, confused.

"You know that he loves you," Oz replied. "And his refrigerator seems to, as well."

Willow tittered and Buffy rolled her eyes. "Why would it be a big secret if you already knew because Willow knew that I knew that he loved me and boy that was a mouthful," Buffy said to Oz.

"Angel," Willow answered for the werewolf.

"Oh," Buffy said softly, eyes on the pizza in her hand.

"What are you going to do, Buffy?" Willow asked her best friend.

"I'm going to help Spike get better, then get to know him better," Buffy replied, taking a bite.

"How much better?" Willow said mischievously.

Buffy choked on her pizza. "Willow!"

*****

Willow and Oz had disappeared into the basement to play with Spike's computer and the Slayer prowled around the house a few hours later. Buffy had gone to check up on the sick former vampire to find him sleeping peacefully, then cleaned up the remnants of dinner. Now she was standing in the smaller bedroom that had been set up for a child.

Her eyes lit on the toys in the room, the teddy bear wallpaper, the little table and chairs. The man who owned the house must have had a little girl because of the princess costume she'd found in the closet, the rest of the clothes being boxed up and on the floor in the large walk-in.

Buffy sat on the edge of the bed, her heart sad from the loss the man must have felt. Then, she lifted up her tank top and looked down at her belly. Growing in her womb was a child who would one day have a room like this. She put her hand over her lower abdomen, thinking about the tiny life inside of her. Her baby. Spike's baby.

Smiling softly, she stood and walked to the master bedroom. Spike lay on his stomach, the covers having been kicked down to his waist, the T-shirt he was wearing bunched under him. Buffy went over to the bed and sat, gently smoothing his sleep-tussled hair back from his forehead. She studied his peaceful features and thought back to the times she'd interacted with him the year before.

From the moment she had seen him in the school, she had known she'd met her match. He was as strong as her, if not more so, witty, sarcastic and full of life. She giggled quietly as she remembered how he told her he messed up her doilies. Then she recalled the look of panic and fear in his eyes when she held a stake to Drusilla's heart. The love he had for the vampiress had been true and real, making her doubt that vampires did not have souls.

Then came the day he asked for her help. To save the world and his princess. Granted, his motives were not sterling, but the fact he had come to his mortal enemy spake of his conviction to stopping Angel and his love of Drusilla. Buffy remembered feeling the tension walking back to her house with him, as if something was under her skin, itching to get out. At the time, she thought it was because what she really wanted to do was kill him. Now, she was not so sure.

Buffy had to admit that she did think of Spike every once in awhile after she had run away, then returned to Sunnydale. She wondered if he and Drusilla were the happy couple once more, if he did indeed leave the country as promised, if he knew of the sacrifice she made to save this world and his love.

Then he appeared drunk and heartbroken back in Sunnydale. He was pathetic and annoying and utterly infuriating. However, he spoke the truth about her and Angel, that they would love each other until they died, but could never be just friends. And he was right, she would always love Angel, she could just no longer be in love with him. Just like Spike would always love Drusilla, even though he now loved her.

Her mind lit upon something Oz told her earlier and she frowned. "August? But that would be before he came back hurting over Drusilla," she said to herself. Then she thought about what Willow had said about the Chaos Demon and the vampiress, and pieced together that perhaps Drusilla had turned to someone else because Spike had done so, whether he knew it or not.

Spike muttered something unintelligible in his sleep, shaking her from her memories. Buffy lightly traced his scar with her finger. "I guess you're dreams weren't that far off," she whispered. He stirred slightly and she stood, quickly leaving the room. She sat down on the couch in the sitting room, curling her feet under her and looking at the boarded up window.

*What am I going to do?* Buffy thought, one hand rubbing her lower abdomen gently. *Who ever heard of a pregnant Slayer? And what do I tell Spike? Or Angel? I don't think ‘hi honey, I got knocked up by the vampire turned human you loathe. Yes, I know you have to have sex to get pregnant.' I can see that going over well.*

She sighed, laying her head down on her arm. *Maybe I just won't say anything until I absolutely have to. My luck, I'll lose the child anyway from my slaying duties.* With that depressing thought, the Slayer drifted off to sleep.

Buffy woke when she heard Willow and Oz come up the stairs. "Hey, guys," she greeted groggily. "What time is it?"

"Ten," Willow answered. "We came up to get the beds ready." She frowned, not completely awake yet. "Beds? Sleeping? You know, that thing you do when you're tired?"

"Sleeping, got it," Buffy replied, swinging to her feet, then stopping. "Um, where are we doing this sleeping thing?"

"Will and I will take the kids's room, you can have the couch out here," Oz said. "It folds out. Still."

"Oh, right, you told me that already," Buffy said. "I'm gonna...go...and, uh, get Spike's medicine."

As she went down the stairs, Willow and Oz looked at each other. "What's up with Buffy?"

"I don't know," Willow replied. "Maybe she's been having serious thoughts. Sometimes that happens."

*****

Buffy stared into the refrigerator, her mind a million miles away. She had been dreaming so vividly and it was distressing. It could have been a portent or just a nightmare. She was hoping it was the latter.

The images of the dream played out in her mind. Some man she'd never seen before going after Spike. Her shoving Spike out of the way, taking the knife that was intended for him. The pain and fear that she felt as she had curled into a ball, her arms wrapped around her swollen middle. Her telling Spike that she loved him, then everything going dark.

She was shaken out of her thoughts by the sudden hum of the refrigerator as the motor went on. Taking a deep breath, she grabbed the Penicillin then went back upstairs. "Spike," she said quietly, sitting on the edge of the bed while switching on the lamp. "Time to take your medicine."

Opening the bottle, she poured the pink liquid into the measuring cup, then set it on the night stand, accidentally knocking a book to the floor. Buffy ignored it for the moment and gently rubbed Spike's back, trying to wake him. "Spike, you need to wake up and take this."

"Mmpph," Spike moaned into the pillow, barely opening his eyes. His head felt as though it was detached from his body and everything was functioning really slow. "Buffy?"

"Hey," she said, still rubbing his back. "We need to get this medicine in you, ok?"

He sighed heavily as he turned over, the sheets and his shirt twisting around his body. "This is no fun," he mumbled as he slowly pushed himself into a semi-sitting position.

"I imagine it's not," Buffy told him, sliding the pillow behind him as he pushed himself up. She handed him the medicine. "Bottoms up."

Spike gave her a look which consisted little more than letting his head loll towards her, accepting the cup. He quickly downed the pink stuff, then handed it back to her. "That'll make me feel better soon, right?"

"Right," she grinned at the hopefulness in his voice. "It'll take a few days, though."

"Bloody hell," he sighed, closing his eyes for a moment.

Buffy's smile grew and she bent to get the book from the floor. "I think I lost your place," she said, picking up the book and the piece of paper that was acting as a bookmark. She turned it over in her hand. ‘To My Spike.' "What's this?"

"What's what, pet?" Spike asked, looking over at her.

Her eyes widened as she read the letter, then she quickly stuck it in the book. "What? Oh, nothing." She put the book back on the night stand, then gave him a fake grin. "So, uh, how are you feeling?"

Spike frowned. "Didn't we already cover that?"

"Oh, er...sorry," Buffy said. "My mind is...not all here."

"So I gathered," he replied. He grabbed the bottom of his shirt and tried to twist it back into place.

"Here," she said, taking the hem of his shirt. He arched up on his elbows, allowing her to straighten it out, then lightly patted his stomach. "There you go. All fixed."

"Thanks," Spike breathed, relaxing back on the pillow.

"Well, I'll let you get back to sleep," she said, straightening the rest of the sheets as she stood.

"No, don't," he stopped her, putting his hand on her arm. "Would you...stay. For just a bit. We can do that talking thing humans are so good at."

Buffy looked at the hopeful expression on his face and smiled genuinely, sitting back down on the bed with one leg tucked under her. "I can do that. In fact, talking is something I excel at, just ask my teachers."

Spike chuckled quietly. There was a knock on the open door and they both looked over to see Willow and Oz standing there. "Can we come in?" Willow asked. He nodded and the two came around to the other side of the bed and took a seat, the werewolf pulling the desk chair up to the side.

"Hey, man," Oz said to him. "You're looking...sick."

"Understatement, mate," Spike replied.

"Before I forget," Willow began. "You have a really cool computer. Wow, think of all the stuff I could do if I had that setup."

"Actually, that's kind of a scary thought," Oz joked. Willow wrinkled her nose at him.

"That's right, " Buffy said, looking at Spike. "I heard you were quite the hacker."

"Yeah, well," he blushed slightly. "I get bored."

"And cracking codes or breaking into top secret government files is always a fun challenge," Willow said. "Well, at least, it is for me."

"That's my juvenile delinquent," Oz said, squeezing her hand. "Although soon you won't be."

"Eighteen," Willow sighed. "I can't wait. I get to vote and-and do other stuff that legal adults can do."

"Luckily you're not me, or I'd tell you to try and avoid your birthday," Buffy said.

"Why's that, ducks?" Spike asked her.

"Buffy doesn't have very happy birthdays," Willow answered for the Slayer. "Things tend to go really bad for her."

"Not that bad," Buffy said. Willow and Oz looked at her. "Ok, so I haven't had the best past three birthdays, but all the ones before that were good."

"What made the last three bad?" Spike inquired.

"Let's see, for my sixteenth birthday I failed the driving test," Buffy said. "Well, I didn't even get to do the driving part."

"And on your seventeenth birthday, your surprise party was ruined by the Judge's arm," Willow continued. She turned to Oz. "That's the night you found out vampires existed."

"Yes, I seem to recall that," Oz said. "I also seem to recall that was the night our friendly neighborhood vampire became not so friendly."

Spike's eyes widened as he pieced together events in his mind from the year before. "You mean the great poofini lost his soul on your birthday?"

Buffy picked at an invisible thread on her knee. "Great gift, huh?" She looked up and glowered at him. "Of course, if someone hadn't been trying to rid the world of humanity, it wouldn't have happened."

Spike had the sense to look ashamed, but Willow came to his defense. "It still probably would have happened, Buffy," she said. "Just not necessarily on your birthday. You two were moving in that direction, remember? Carpe diem?"

Buffy sighed. "I know. And I've blamed myself enough for what happened. But, that's in the past and...it's in the past." She made a face. "Moving on to this year's fiasco."

"The powerless Slayer," Oz summarized.

"Powerless?" Spike asked.

"Buffy lost her super Slayer strength," Willow replied. "Well, not lost really. Just...misplaced."

Spike arched his eyebrow at Buffy, waiting for the story. "The pompous assess that make up the Watcher's Council have a test for Slayers when they turn eighteen. They take away what makes us the Chosen few, lock us in a house with some big, scary monster and say good luck."

He looked at her incredulously. "They sent you off to get killed?"

"Pretty much a big yes to that one," Buffy replied.

"But Buffy is one tough cookie," Willow said. "Like the ones they serve in the cafeteria."

"The bloody bastards," he growled. "I'll rip their hearts out."

"I don't think you're going anywhere, cowboy," Buffy said with a grin. "But thanks for the offer."

"Pillocks," Spike scowled. He closed his eyes as a wave of sickness washed over him, swallowing heavily.

"Want me to take you to the bathroom?" Buffy asked, noting his actions. He was going to say no, then thought better of it and nodded.

"We'll get out of your hair," Willow said, standing as Buffy helped Spike out of bed. "See you in the morning."

"‘Night Will, night Oz," Buffy replied. The couple left the bedroom as she led Spike slowly to the bathroom. The light from the small lamp was still glowing in the large room, and she had him lean against the sink as she laid the towel out on the floor again. "My mom use to do this for me," she said as she helped him onto the floor. "It was weird, but I always felt better laying on the bathroom floor when my stomach hurt."

Spike didn't reply, feeling nauseous. He sat in front of the toilet and rested his forehead on the rim. After a few minutes, the feeling went away and he laid down, the softness of the towel rubbing against his cheek. He closed his eyes and cursed having a human body.

"Spike, do you want me to stay?" Buffy asked quietly, sitting on her heels as she knelt by his head.

"Please," he whispered in reply.

"Ok," she said, changing her position so she was leaning up against the wall to the large bathtub. She listened as his breathing slowed shortly thereafter, evening out as he drifted back to sleep. As she did earlier, she lifted her shirt up, rolling it to expose her stomach, then unbuttoned her jeans. She laid one hand over the non-existent swell of her abdomen, trying to imagine a baby with bright, blue eyes. She smiled to herself as she looked over at Spike's sleeping form. "That's your daddy. He's a royal pain and was your mommy's enemy, but now he's your mommy's friend. Sort of. But maybe one day he'll be more."

Spike turned over in his sleep so he was now facing her and she let her eyes trace over his features. He snuggled against the towel, his hands coming to rest up near his face. She felt the wave of tenderness wash over her again. "Maybe one day he'll be more."

Spike came awake slowly, not too aware of his surroundings other than the fact that he wasn't in his bed. Opening his eyes, the first thing he focused on was Buffy laying a few feet from him by the tub wall, hand on her exposed stomach, sound asleep. He smiled at the sight, love bubbling up inside him rather than sickness. Pushing himself up into a sitting position, he rubbed a weary hand over his face, glad that he was feeling slightly better than he did the day before.

Loathing to wake Buffy after all she'd done for him, he shakily stood, grabbed his toothbrush and made his way out of the master bath and bedroom to the other bathroom. When he came out, he saw Oz standing there waiting, looking sleep tussled.

"Morning," Oz said, entering the bathroom after Spike vacated and closing the door behind him.

"Morning, Spike," Willow greeted, coming out of the other bedroom before he could take two steps. "How are you feeling?"

"Better than yesterday," he replied. He frowned at her. "I didn't know you were going to stay overnight."

"You were in no condition to take care of yourself," Willow told him. "Probably still aren't. But you don't look as ghostly today. Not that you weren't pale before, what with your lack of sunshine for two centuries. But you were definitely white yesterday. Hungry?"

"Yes," Spike said, mentally chuckling at her abrupt change of topic.

"Toast and jelly sound good? Or how about just some crackers?" Willow asked.

"I think I'll go with the crackers," he answered.

"Ok. You get back into bed where you belong," she said, giving him a friendly push towards the master bedroom. "I'll bring it and your medicine up"

"Yes, Nurse Willow," he replied in a little boy voice. Willow made a face at him, then went downstairs. He chuckled out loud this time and made his way back to his room. He paused as he put his toothbrush away, looking down at the sleeping Slayer. *That can't be comfortable,* he thought after a minute of just enjoying her beauty. Crouching, he tentatively reached his hand out to her bare skin, running his fingers lightly over it. "Slayer?"

"It's your turn," Buffy muttered in her sleep. "I got up last time."

Spike grinned. "Slayer, I think you want to get up before you get a crick in your neck."

"He's your son, too," she mumbled in reply, curling further into a ball.

"What?" Spike said, arching his brow. *She must be dreaming,* he thought, still rubbing her side in an attempts to wake her. *I wonder who she's talking to in the dream?* With the second thought, his eyes lit up. "Buffy, pet, who are you talking to?"

"Hmm?" Buffy replied, coming awake. She wondered briefly why her bed was so hard, then she remembered she was at Spike's house, in particular the master bathroom. She felt a hand running slowly up and down her side and knew immediately who it was attached to by the comfortable tingling on her skin. "Morning, Spike. Did you ask me something?"

"How did you know it was me?" Spike asked, disappointed that he didn't get to find out who she was dreaming about.

"Talent," she replied, pushing herself to a sitting position and tugging her shirt down. "What are you doing up and about? You're sick. You should be in bed."

"That's where I was going, luv," he said. "But I thought you'd be a happier Slayer if you didn't have a sore neck."

"You're right," Buffy said, rising to her feet as Spike did the same. "There's nothing scarier than a cranky Slayer."

"Except a cranky Witch," Willow said from the bathroom door, box of crackers and Penicillin in hand. She looked at Spike. "You. Bed."

"I'm going," he grumbled, making the two girls laugh. "This being sick thing is for the bloody birds."

Buffy took the thermometer out of the cabinet, then trailed Willow to the bedside as Spike climbed in. The red head set the items in her hand on the night stand. "I'm going downstairs to whip us up some breakfast," she told Buffy. "Want anything in particular?"

"Whatever is fine," Buffy answered. "But you don't have to make anything."

"Don't want to get cranky," she replied with a grin before leaving the bedroom.

Buffy shook her head, then turned her attention to Spike. "Open," she instructed, holding up the thermometer. She stuck it under his tongue, then went about measuring the Penicillin. "I don't know what time we're leaving tonight, but you need to know that you take this much three times a day until it's all gone."

Spike nodded, not speaking because of the object in his mouth. Buffy continued, "The doctor's office should call here on Monday with the results of your blood tests. They'll let you know if you need to be on any other medication. Willow and Oz got your prescription filled at Walgreens over on Eighth Street, Mr. Spike Williams."

The thermometer beeped, and she removed it from his mouth, handing him the cup at the same time. "Mr. Spike Williams?" Spike said with an arch of his brow.

"We didn't know what to put on the medical forms, so we named you that," Buffy explained. "Looks like you're fever has gone way down."

"What's that for?" Spike asked, pointing to the thermometer.

"Measuring your body temperature," Buffy answered. "You had almost a 104 degree fever yesterday and that's not a good thing."

"What's it now?"

"A little over 100," she replied. "Still sick, but not overly so. And if you ever get sick again, normal is around 98.6 degrees."

"I thought that was a song," Spike said, grabbing the box of crackers and opening it.

"What?"

"98.6," he replied. At her confused look, he sang a few lyrics. "It's 98.6 and I know what your feeling, baby."

"Oh," she said, giving him a small grin. "Never heard of it."

"Not surprised," Spike said. "It's a bit before your time."

"You sing good, even when you're sick," Buffy said before she could stop herself. She blushed slightly, then stood. "I'm gonna...go and uh, get cleaned up. For breakfast."

"Come back later and keep me company?" Spike asked, picking up the book from the night stand.

"Sure," she replied. "Maybe we'll dig out some cards and play a few hands with Willow and Oz."

"Strip poker?"

"You wish," Buffy said over her shoulder as she left the room.

"Do I ever," Spike replied quietly. Then he grinned at the images in his mind and opened the book, settling back on the pillows to read.

*****

The four friends played cards for several hours, Spike winning most of the time, until Buffy got fed up and threw the deck at him on her deal. Then they made the former vampire take a nap while the trio went downstairs to watch some television and eat a late lunch. Buffy called her mom to update her on Spike's illness, then had to let her talk to him herself.

"Do you think you're going to be ok?" Buffy asked, sitting once again on the edge of the bed, saying goodbye.

"I'll live," Spike replied, then grinned. "Didn't think I'd ever hear myself say that."

Buffy laughed. "Your humor is back. I think you'll be just fine."

He reached out suddenly and grabbed her hand. "I wanted to thank you, luv."

"It's not necessary..."

"Yes, it is," Spike insisted. "I don't know anyone who would have taken the time to care about an ex-enemy like you and your chums."

"They're your friends, too, Spike," Buffy told him. "Don't be surprised if after graduation you suddenly find yourself with a houseful of guests."

Spike looked nervous as he asked the next question. "Including you?"

A smile stretched across Buffy's face. "Including me. But I'll be down here anyway for the summer with my dad."

"Well, then we'll have to do something, the two of us," he said offhandedly.

"Sounds like a plan," she replied. She stood and gave his had a squeeze. "Get better."

"I will," he said. "Be careful, ok? I don't want my favorite Slayer hurt."

"I'm only your favorite Slayer ‘cuz you love me," Buffy teased. Spike blushed bright red. "I'll be careful and leave now before you match Willow's hair."

"Thanks bunches, Slayer," Spike growled at her.

With a smile, she bent and gave him a quick kiss on the lips, surprising him. "Bye, Spike," she said, then turned and went out the door.

He slowly smiled, bringing his fingers up to touch his lips while they were still burning from her kiss.

Angel sat outside Buffy's bedroom window, waiting for her to get home. He had some information for her about another ‘new power' arising in Sunnydale, which was the norm for the small suburb in California. Scanning the street from his perch, he looked both for her and for any trouble. He heard something coming from her room and he turned back to the window. Buffy was standing in front of her closet in only a towel.

He went to tap on the window when she dropped said towel and stood in front of the mirror mounted on the inside of the closet door. He knew immediately he should leave or at least turn his head, but this was his goddess, his forbidden fruit, and he was not strong enough of a man for that.

He watched as she turned one way, then the other, examining her body in the mirror. She then did something very odd, pushing her stomach out as far as she could and arching forward. It almost looked as though she were seeing what she would look like if she were pregnant. He frowned, shifting uncomfortably because of the tightness of his pants over his arousal. As she slipped on a extra large T-shirt, he jumped off the roof to take a walk and calm down before he talked to her.

*****

Buffy sighed and sat down at her desk, tucking one leg under her as she pulled out her diary and a pen. Tucking her damp hair behind her ear, she uncapped the pen and flipped to a blank page.

Tap, tap, tap.

Buffy up from her writing and over at the window to see Angel crouching there. "Speak of the devil," she said to herself as she closed her diary and went to open the window. "Hi."

"Hi," Angel greeted, entering the bedroom. He studied her sad face and reached his hand out to brush a stray hair behind her ear. "What's wrong?"

"Oh, Angel," Buffy said, wrapping her arms around him and laying her head on his chest. "I don't know what to do." She began to cry.

"Shh," he comforted, holding her. "Whatever it is, I'll help you. You know that."

Buffy forced herself to calm down and stepped away from him, wiping the tears from her face. "You better sit down," she told him.

Dread settled over him as he took a seat on the edge of the bed. "What is it, Buffy?"

She took a deep, shaky breath, looking at a spot on the floor. "I'm pregnant."

"Oh," Angel said, feeling as though someone punched him in the gut. "Are you sure?"

Buffy chuckled harshly. "I'm sure."

"Who's the father?"

"It's...some guy. One night stand," she partially lied, deciding not to tell him. And it was only one night. "Faith's influence."

Angel nodded, not sure if he believed her or not. But he had seen how she had acted before the Deputy Mayor had been killed, so it was a possibility. "Have you told your mother, yet?"

"No, you're the first," Buffy replied. "I don't know if I want to tell her or not. Or even if I want to have the baby. Is that wrong? God, I wish this was all just a nightmare and I would wake up already."

"You have to tell her, Buffy," Angel said, grabbing her hand and pulling her over to him. He pick up the other hand and held both loosely in his. "Rupert, too."

"But..."

"Buffy, if you do or don't decide to have the baby, you're going to need their support," he told her. "You'll always have mine."

"Thanks," she said, giving him a depressed smile. "I really needed to hear that."

"Why don't you go tell your mom and I'll wait here for you," Angel suggested.

"Can't. She went down to LA to pick up a new shipment and to check on Spike," Buffy replied. *Spike. Spike's baby. Ugh. What am I going to do?*

"Then we'll go tell Rupert," he said, standing.

Buffy looked at him pleadingly, but she knew he wouldn't budge. With a heavy sigh, she slid on a pair of jeans under the shirt she was wearing. "I so am not looking forward to this."

"If it's any consolation, you aren't the first Slayer who's been pregnant," he told her.

"Really? I was wondering about that," she said, putting on her shoes. "What happened with her?"

"The ones that I know about...died before they could deliver or lost the baby," Angel answered her quietly.

"Oh," Buffy replied, a horrible feeling of pain and sadness in her heart. She put her hand over her abdomen protectively while a voice in the back of her mind screamed NO!

"Ready?"

She nodded and followed him out of the house. They walked in silence down the tree lined streets as they headed for Giles' house. Buffy's mind was racing with what Angel had told her and the feelings the news evoked. As they walked down the stairs to her former Watcher's front door, she realized that she didn't want to lose the baby. She wanted it to be her choice, a choice that was already leaning towards her having the child.

Angel knocked on the door, then went to stand behind the Slayer. Giles opened the door, one of his many books in hand and gave them both a puzzled and worried look. "What's wrong?"

"Can we come in?" Buffy asked.

"Of-of course," Giles replied, stepping aside to let them pass. Angel stayed off to one side as Buffy nervously wrung her hands as she stood in front of the couch. He looked first at the vampire, then at Buffy, noting their tense expressions.

"Giles, I'm pregnant," Buffy suddenly blurt out. "I'm so sorry, I never meant to get pregnant. It was an accident. One time. And now I'm pregnant. With a baby."

"I would assume with a-a baby," Giles said, not believing his ears. He looked over at Angel again, who nodded in affirmation. "Is-is-is-do-do you know the father?"

"I do, but he doesn't know," she replied, sinking down onto the couch. "I can't believe this."

"I am leaning towards the unbelievable, as well," Giles told her, removing his glasses to rub his eyes.

"Do you hate me?"

"Do I what?" Giles asked, giving her an incredulous look. "Buffy, I could never hate you. This is-is a bit of discerning news, but you have my unequivocal support. You are not the first Slayer to become, er...preg-pregnant."

"That's what Angel said," Buffy replied. "He also said that those girls died or the baby died."

"W-Well, yes," he stammered. "But you are the most unconventional Slayer recorded. You have a support system that none of the others had, plus there are two Slayers now. Although Faith is-is not overly reliable. But I have no doubt that if you decided to have the child, you would."

"Thanks, Giles," Buffy said, standing and giving him a rare hug. "So, what do I do now?"

"That is up to you, Buffy," Giles said. "You must first decide if you are going to have the baby, then we will adjust your duties as necessary."

"What about Wesley?"

"Don't worry about that pil-...him," he replied. "Watcher training does include the issue of pregnancy."

"Ok," she said. "Well, I guess I'll go back home now. I have lots of thinking to do."

"I will see you at school tomorrow," Giles said, escorting the former couple to the door.

"‘Night, Giles," she said as they left.

A short while later, Angel dropped her at her house, then went on his way. The Slayer went up to her room and laid on her bed, her arms wrapped protectively around her. "What am I going to do?"

*****

Angel crouched in front of the fireplace at the mansion, staring sightlessly into the flames. He still couldn't comprehend the fact that Buffy was pregnant. His Buffy. And he didn't even know by who, so that he could go out and pummel him for touching her.

He knew that his thoughts were irrational seeing as he was the one who insisted she'd move on. He just hadn't expected her to move on so soon. It hurt. A lot. He felt as though his heart was being torn into little pieces by a demon's claw.

Now his job of protecting her was going to become tenfold, for he was not only protecting the woman he loved, but her child as well. Angel had no doubt she would have the baby. She had learned how short life was and wanted to experience everything before she died, including being a mother, whether she realized it yet or not. He also knew that if she died, all her friends, including him, would ensure that her child would be loved and protected and knew how truly wonderful his or her mom had been.

Angel sighed and stood, heading for his bedroom. His thoughts turned to the father of Buffy's child once more. *As long as it isn't Xander....*

Spike hummed under his breath to the music blaring on his stereo. Bent over a large piece of paper on the coffee table, he added several more precisely placed dots with his black, felt-tip pen. Three weeks had gone by since he'd gotten ill and, except for the actual sickness part, he was beginning to enjoy being human. Being able to go out at anytime was wonderful, as was some of the food he had found. He especially liked ice creme sandwiches, although the chocolate cookie part tended to get stuck in his teeth.

He had thoroughly adjusted to being awake during the day. Not that he hadn't been up during the day when he was still a vampire. Back then he usually was able to sleep for no more than two to three hours beside Drusilla before he'd be up and pacing around, bored out of his skull. Which was one of the reasons why he was so adept at many things - playing the piano, the guitar, hacking, drawing, speaking and reading several different languages and dancing, although that had usually been done with Dru. His love of music and reading also led him to unconsciously memorize most of what he read or heard.

Most of the pictures he had drawn had been left behind when they had fled Prague. The others burned in the fire at the factory and he hadn't drawn any new ones when Angelus had been living with them. All his daytime hours had been spent building back the strength in his legs so he could walk again.

This past week he'd gone out and bought art supplies, then with his stereo blasting, he'd set about recapturing his Princess on paper. After her came Oz and Willow standing next to each other in the sunlight with the shadows they cast being a werewolf and a female with an aura of power. He'd mailed it to Oz on Thursday as Willow's birthday present.

Yesterday he had drawn a quick, evil one of his sire, which he put on the dart board in the basement. Then he started on Buffy. His first few were only sketches, trying to capture her many expressions and moods. Now he was working on a pen-dot portrait of her from one of the thumbnail pictures.

Setting the pen aside, Spike stood and stretched the kinks out of his back from hunching over the table. Grabbing his coffee cup, he padded barefoot to the kitchen, singing along to the music. "Baby, if I think about you, I think about love. Darling, if I live without you, I live without love. And if I had the sun and moon and they were shining, I would give you both night and day love satisfying. Feel like making love. Yeah I feel like making love. Oh I feel like making love. Feel like making love to you."

After refilling his mug with coffee, he had opened the fridge to grab something to eat when the doorbell rang. Snagging a handful of grapes, he popped one into his mouth as he went to answer the door. It was a good thing he'd been in the kitchen where the bell chime was located or he wouldn't have heard it.

Spike opened the front door and blinked in surprise before a big smile came over his face. Popping another grape in his mouth, he stepped back and gestured for the blond to enter, then closed the door behind her. He went over to the end table and picked up the remote, turning down the volume on the stereo.

"Loud much?" Buffy asked with a grin, dropping the bag she had over her shoulder to the floor behind the couch.

"Music is meant to be played loud," he told her. He held out his hand. "Grape?"

"Ooh, yum," Buffy said, snatching one and eating it. "You know what would go good with grapes? Chocolate syrup."

Spike arched his eyebrow at that. "I think I have some in the fridge," he said, leading her in that direction.

Buffy sat down at the kitchen table as he pulled out the bowl of grapes and chocolate syrup. He gave her a bowl, then watched as she smothered the green seedless grapes in chocolate before eating one. "Mmm," she said, chewing with her eyes closed, a heavenly look on her face. "Delicious."

"Has anyone ever told you that you are a bloody strange girl?" Spike asked, picking up his coffee and taking a sip.

"All the time," she replied with a smirk.

"So, what brings you to my neck of the woods? Not that I'm not happy to see you," he added quickly. "Just curious."

"Well...," Buffy began. She had planned on telling him about her condition this weekend, having decided to have the baby. But seeing him standing in front of her had removed all her bravery. "I uh...last time I was here...um...I accidently saw the letter from Drusilla," she finished with a quick lie.

Spike paused with the mug halfway to his mouth. The familiar pain of grief came over him, but not as intense as it had been two months ago. Carefully, he set the cup on the counter, taking several silent, deep breaths before responding. "Why didn't you say anything?"

"Well, you were sick and it was private," Buffy answered, scolding herself in her mind for being a chicken. "I was talking to Giles about your human-ness the other day and I told him about it." Which was true. "Then Willow got worried that whoever the man Drusilla was talking about was still after you." Which was also true, except for the part about Willow being the one who was worried.

He frowned, then walked out of the kitchen. Buffy watched him leave with a puzzled look, then stood and followed him. He had seated himself on the couch and was working over something laid on the coffee table. "Spike?"

"Yeah, pet?"

"Did I say something wrong?"

Spike sighed, looking up at her standing at the end of the couch. "I'm sorry, luv. Thinking about Dru...it still hurts."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be," he replied and went back to the picture.

Buffy sat on the couch next to him and squeezed his knee in sympathy, deciding to change the subject. "So, what'cha working on?"

"You."

"What?" Buffy asked confused.

He chuckled and held up the unfinished paper. "You," he repeated.

Buffy's eyes widened. What had looked like a bunch of dots close up formed a very familiar face. A face that was giving the viewer an exasperated look. "I look like that?"

"All the time, pet, especially when you're looking at me," Spike replied with a grin. "Like you were annoyed with me or something to that effect."

"When am I not annoyed with you?" Buffy teased as he set the paper back on the table.

"See," he said, gesturing to the page. "Exactly."

She shook her head and leaned back on the couch. "Another hidden talent. You know, with all the things you know how to do, you should have been too occupied to go out and terrorize people."

"And lose out on all the literally bloody fun? Never." Buffy laughed and he added a few more pen dots before asking casually, "Staying for the weekend, ducks?"

"If you want me," Buffy replied.

Spike paused mid-dot as sexual excitement coursed through his body at her words. He swallowed heavily, then continued his action. "I'd love to have you, Slayer," he answered quietly, not-so-hidden meaning behind the sentence.

Buffy felt a tingle run through her as she caught his message. "I thought maybe we could get to know each other better."

"How much better?" Spike asked, looking back at her with a smirk.

"I'm hoping for much much better," she said.

"Slayer, if I didn't know any better, I'd think you were flirting with me."

"Maybe I am," Buffy said coyly, a small smile on her face.

*****

After getting over his astonishment at her words, Spike and Buffy proceeded to have an enjoyable day together. They went to the movies, played cards, tried to make dinner and failed miserably, and generally had an all around good time.

They were currently sitting in front of the television watching Politically Incorrect and throwing popcorn at the screen each time Linda Tripp appeared. At the commercial break, Spike stood and took the now empty bowl to the kitchen to make more popcorn. "So, how's the hedgehog?" he asked when he'd seen she'd followed.

"I don't have..." Buffy trailed off with a glare. "His name is Angel."

"Yeah, yeah," he said with a wave of his hand.

Buffy continued to glare at him as she answered, "Angel is fine."

"I take it all's well in Lover's Lane then?"

"We're not...together like that anymore," Buffy told him. She frowned. "Deja vu."

"Does this mean I have to give the whole bloody ‘you'll never be friends' speech again?" Spike asked.

"Spike, I will always love Angel, just like you will always love Drusilla," she said, popping a chocolate covered grape from the bowl still on the table into her mouth. "But sometimes that's not enough and you have to move on."

Spike turned and looked at her in surprise. "That's what your mum told me."

"I'm saying momisms?" Buffy asked with a look of horror. She sat down heavily at the kitchen table. "I'm not ready for momisms."

"Don't worry, pet. It'll be awhile until you need them."

"Right. Awhile. Not anytime soon because I'm not pregnant," she said, purposely avoiding the perfect opening to tell him. He was the last one who didn't know of her condition. However, only her mom, Willow and Oz knew he was the father and she'd sworn them all to secrecy.

"I think the show's on," he told her, dumping the fresh popcorn in the bowl.

Buffy jumped up and grabbed two fresh sodas from the fridge, then rejoined him on the couch. But no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't get comfortable again. After ten minutes, she got up. "I'm going to patrol."

Spike looked up at her in shock. "What? Why?"

"Vampires are not exclusive to Sunnydale," she answered.

"I'll go with you," he said, standing.

"No, you stay," she replied quickly.

"But...

"Spike, I am the Slayer, you are human, hence I beat them and you get beaten."

"Fine," Spike said, glaring at her. "But you shouldn't go out there in that condition."

"Jeez, first Angel, then Giles, then mom and Willow, and now you!" Buffy exclaimed. "Just because I'm pre-" She stopped suddenly and looked at him with wide eyes. "You know?"

"That you're underdressed to fight?" Spike asked, confused by her outburst.

Buffy looked down at the shorts and t-shirt she was wearing, then wiggled her bare feet on the carpet. "Oh. Um, yeah. I guess it would be good if I change." She gave him a pained, embarrassed smile, then quickly disappeared up the stairs.

Frowning, he followed her after a minute. "Slayer?" He found her sitting on the small fold-out couch in the sitting room, face in her hands. He walked over and crouched in front of her. "Pet, what's wrong?"

She removed her hands to see Spike looked worriedly at her, his blue eyes filled with questions. "I'm sorry. I'm just..." She yawned, breaking the sentence.

"I have a better idea than patrol, ducks," Spike said, taking her hands in his. "Why don't we call it a night. You can take my bed and I'll stay out here on the sleeper."

"No, I'll stay out here," Buffy said. "I'm the guest."

"And as the guest, I say you take the bed," he replied.

"What if I don't want to? Are you going to make me?"

"Yes," he said. "I will."

Buffy arched her brow in challenge. "And how do you think you're going to do that?"

"Like this," Spike answered, dropping her hands and grabbing her knees.

Buffy squealed out in laughter as he tickled her. She scooted back on the couch away from his hands, but he followed. Kneeling next to her, he grabbed her at the waist, his fingers torturing her hips and ribs.

"No, no, no, stop, stop, stop," she gasped out between laughs, trying to capture his wrists. He evaded her hands, continuously tickling her. Finally, she decided to cheat and rolled off the couch, knocking him backwards onto the floor.

She scrambled to her feet and ran, her footsteps loud and heavy on the stairs. Spike gave chase and they ran around the great room like children.

"Give it up, Slayer," Spike taunted from the opposite side of the downstairs couch.

"It didn't work when you were a bloodsucker and it ain't gonna work now," Buffy shot back, weaving on her feet. He gave her a mocking grin, then faked left before launching himself up the middle, right over the back of the couch.

Surprised, Buffy was tackled to the ground. They both hit with a thud, Spike half on top of her, one arm pinned under her waist. He grinned wickedly at her, his face scant inches away from her own. "Got you."

"I can see that," she breathed, looking into his so blue eyes. "Now what are you going to do with me?"

Spike's grin faded as the chemistry between the two former enemies rose. "I'm going to kiss you," he whispered in reply.

"You are?" Buffy asked in a small, trembling voice.

"Dead cert," he answered, lowering his lips to hers.

The kiss was so gentle, it was as if a breeze brushed over her lips. Her eyes shot open when she felt him pull back and saw a ghostly smile playing on his face as he studied her under his lashes. Whatever he was searching for he must have found because he lowered his head again, capturing her lips.

This kiss was coaxing, asking her mouth to merge with his. Both their breathing sped up as their tongues tentatively met, then slowly began to dance.

Spike's heart was pounding in his chest, the arm he was leaning on was trembling slightly and his brain had shut down completely. All he could focus on was Buffy's soft lips against his, the erotic brush of her tongue. He'd wanted to do this for what seemed like forever.

Eventually they had to break apart. Luminous hazel eyes stared at bright blue ones, their heavy breathing and pounding hearts the only sound in the rom

With a new found awareness, Spike got up and helped Buffy to her feet. He gave her a shy smile, then bent his head and pressed a quick, soft kiss on her lips. Without a word, he put his arm around her waist and led her up the stairs to his bedroom.

Buffy's knees trembled as she stood next to him in the lamp lit room while he turned down the covers. Suddenly, he picked her up in his arms and set her in the bed, smiling mischievously at her, his eyes alight with humor. Brushing a soft kiss across her cheek, he whispered in her ear, "You got the bed."

She started to giggled as he straightened, pulling the covers up over her body. He ran his finger along her jaw line, then tapped it once against her lips. "Goodnight, Slayer."

With a wink, he switched off the lamp and left the bedroom.

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