CHAPTER 1 --

Spike jumped out of the shower, towel wrapped haphazardly around his waist and loose blonde curls dripping as dove for the phone as it rang for the fourth time.

“Hello,” he answered.

“William Giles? This is Marianne Stewart, from Child Services.”

“Yeah?” he answered perplexed. Trying to wrap his head around why in the world Child Services would be calling him, he mentally catalogued the women he’d slept with over the years and any chance one of his many couplings could have resulted in pregnancy. He couldn’t come up with a single time he hadn’t taken the utmost precaution.

“You are the brother of Liam O’Connor am I correct?” the woman asked.

“Stepbrother,” Spike answered instantly. “My father married his mother, but yeah, we’re related,” he finished, separating himself from the other boy who was unwillingly joined within the same family when Rupert Giles married Jenny Calendar fifteen years ago. By making this distinction, Spike therefore deflected any blame that could be thrown at him for his stepbrother’s actions.

“It appears Mr. O’Connor had left the immediate area indefinitely,” commented the woman on the phone.

“Where to?” Spike’s brow furrowed, not really concerned with Angel’s whereabouts, but taken back that he hadn’t heard about it through his father. Though the move didn’t exactly surprise him. Work came first to his older stepbrother and an abrupt move for the sake of some legal case he was overseeing would hardly shock anyone.

But what this had to do with Child Services was beyond him. If Angel and his on again and off again girlfriend were having disputes over their kid, why were they calling him? Why should they drag him into their ongoing drama?

“I’m afraid no one knows Mr. O’Connor’s whereabouts.” The woman paused. “But we do have the issue of the child involved, a Lisa O’Connor.” She hesitated before the name, pronouncing it clinically, like she was checking the name on a paper in front of her, lest she confuse it with the hundreds of other children she dealt with on a daily basis.

“My niece,” Spike answered, getting the feeling like this was a one-sided conversation and he was the uninformed, being blindly led by the woman’s questions.

“You would not by any chance know where the birth mother is?”

“Darla?” Spike shook his head, “No. In the past two years I’ve only seen Angel a handful of times. I’ve seen the mother and the kid less than that.”

“Angel?” the woman questioned.

“A nickname,” he answered. “But what does this have to do with me?” He ran his fingers through his drenched hair, checking the clock on his apartment’s living room. He was going to be late for his date with that brunette he met in a bar last week.

“Well, Mr. Giles, as the parents of the child were not married and Mr. O’Connor had full custody this changes some things. The mother could not be contacted and you are named next of kin for Liam O’Connor. The child is now in your custody.”

“What?” he sputtered. His mind went to the baby that he’d seen last year at his father and stepmother’s house in England. He had a hard time picturing her face it was so long ago. All he remembered is that the kid puked on him, not leaving him with a favorable impression of his brother’s brat. He was still trying to wrap his mind around his Angel considering him worthy enough to take care of his kid should something happen by naming him next of kin.

Now apparently something had happened.

“Wait, isn’t Lisa with him?” Spike asked, wanting clarification. Granted, from what Spike had heard from his father, Angel may not win any parent of the year awards, but certainly if he up and moved he would have taken his three year old daughter with him.

“No. Lisa was left at our facility late last night.” The woman continued to talk, but Spike heard none of it. This couldn’t be real. Those next of kin things are never taken seriously are they? You only use ’em when you die and you don’t want your money squandered away by an alcoholic uncle. The lady’s voice broke into his thoughts, “You have some decisions to make Mr. Giles. Shall we keep her here with us or . . .”

“No!” he shouted into the phone, shaking his head. “No,” he repeated more calmly, “I’ll . . . I’ll be right there.”

Two hours later, after getting lost a multitude of times, calling 411 for phone numbers for directions, finding the Child Services building, and filling out mountains upon mountains of paperwork, Spike felt lucky he had remembered to put pants on. Now he stood face to . . . knee with his niece.

Ms. Stewart was more than eager to see them off, practically throwing them out of her office as her next appointment came rushing in.

The little girl looked up at him expectantly, clutching her doll to her chest. She hadn’t said a word through the entire ordeal. Her dark brown hair loosely about her, almost reaching her waist. The sides were pulled back in a miniature clip with a butterfly on it, which matched her purple jumper with a corresponding insect. She clutched a Raggedy Ann doll to her chest.

Spike tilted his head to his niece standing three feet from the ground:

“Well, kid, now what?”

TBC

CHAPTER 2 --

Spike paced across the wood floor of his apartment. He felt like all he’d done in the past ten hours was talk on the phone with no progress. His current conversation was with the brick wall that was Rupert Giles.

“How the bloody hell should I know where he is Dad? Doesn’t Jenny know? I don’t know.” Spike stared across the room at the little girl sitting in the corner in front of the television. The Disney Channel flickered across the screen -- a channel Spike didn’t even know existed until a couple hours ago when he was searching for something suitable for a three year old. She had fallen asleep on the car ride home and had only recently woke up. She now clutched a doll to her chest. “She’s just sitting here, dad,” he whispered into the phone, like she was some alien martian come down from space that he didn’t want to alert.

With all he knew about kids, she might as well have been.

A more refined British accent echoed through the phone, “Well until we can find another solution you have some decisions to make. You cannot raise a child in L.A,” he admonished.

“Who said anything about raising her?” Spike asked his father.

“Spike, when you agreed to take the child in, you agreed to take the place of her father, even if it is only for the time being. But I think you would agree that it would be best at this time to think long term.”

“Angel was raising her in this city, why can’t I?” Spike fought, unwilling to have this kid completely disrupt his life and uproot him altogether.

“I don’t know if you can call what Angel was doing a proper job. He always had his priorities . . . askew.”

“And here I always thought you said I was the irresponsible one,” Spike grumbled, continuing to prowl a safe distance away from the baby.

“When it comes to women, yes, but you have always, shall I say ‘stepped up to the plate’ when called upon. And we are counting on you now, William,” his father pleaded. “Being in England, neither Jenny nor myself can be there to help you.”

“Dad, I have a job! I have a life!”

“And now you have a child who needs to begin preschool in the fall,” Giles stated firmly.

“I had to take her! They would have put her in some foster home if I hadn’t!”

“And right there you have shown more concern for this child’s well-being than her own father -- proving you a more suitable guardian. You write novels, William, you can do that anywhere.”

His father’s comment on his job, just made him anger more, “But my editor is in L.A.!”

“If I have learned nothing from your stepmother in the fifteen years we’ve been married, it is the power of the computer. E-mail, Will, use it.”

“Dad, I think we’re missing the point, that being what do I know about raising a kid?”

“I’m sure if you put your mind to it you will find yourself more than capable.”

“She wasn’t left with an instruction manual dad, all Angel left her with was a bag of clothes and a couple dolls.” In his frustration, Spike’s voice raised and he swung at the papers stacked on his table -- the outlines of his newest novel. The baby raised her head in alarm. Spike quickly shot her a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes in order to not upset her. The child didn’t seem any more convinced than he was.

“I’m afraid to touch her -- like I’m going to break her,” Spike said miserably.

“I assure you that you won’t.” Giles seem to reconsider, “On second thought, perhaps you should hire a nanny.”

“I can handle it,” Spike growled, never in his life having accepted help from outsiders before. And if his dad knew how to rile him up, it was in suggesting that Spike had an inability to do something himself. “I have dealt with fussy publishers and fought with editors. I think I can handle a three year old.”

“Well,” Giles stated, satisfied, “That was a quick about-face. Now,” he began, not planning on leaving his son with no hints whatsoever, “the last time I talked to Angel, Lisa was more or less trained to use the bathroom but was still wearing training pants in case of accidents. Have you checked her diaper?”

“Her what!?” Spike sputtered, “You can’t expect me to . . . I’ve never . . .” Spike sighed in defeat, “okay I’m on it.”

“Now, I’ve talked to a friend of mine. A Joyce Summers. She’s helped Jenny and I acquire some rather rare art. She lives only a few hours away . . .” Spike heard a rustling of papers on the England end, “place called Sunnydale,” Giles read off a scrap of paper. “Well,” his father stated brightly, “that sounds like a lovely place does it not?”

Spike refrained from telling his father just what he really thought of a place called, of all things, Sunnydale.

“She’s raised two daughters there quite successfully and I’m sure would be more than eager to help you. There are some homes available nearby, all within walking distance of the local elementary school.”

“Dad, for the last time -- I am not moving!”


TWO WEEKS LATER . . .

Spike stood outside the modest two floor, two bedroom, two bathroom home, squinting his eyes against the sun.

A home that was now his.

And Lisa’s, temporarily.

The baby in question, who had been content to wonder around the home’s perimeters, chasing butterflies that escaped from what was left of the previous owner’s garden, came to rest beside him.

Scooping up his niece, Spike moved his free hand to her forehead, shielding her delicate eyes from the morning rays.

The movers had hauled in the last of the boxes and had left Spike and Lisa in the yard to face the intimidating house alone.

Spike looked down at the baby in his arms before looking back up at the house looming over them.

Spike sighed, “Home sweet home.”

TBC

CHAPTER 3 --

The silver California moon streamed through the open window. A light breeze moved the gauzy white curtains. A copy of “Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs” lay forgotten at Spike’s feet as he rhythmically moved the rocking chair back and forth. Lisa had fallen asleep in his arms after he’d read her some children’s books he’d had his publisher send him.

His heart had ached as he recited the fairy tale. Lisa had pointed at each picture, cheerily naming each dwarf and bird. She still didn’t talk much, but she had yet to mention Angel or her mother in any way. It made Spike wonder just how many times she had been ushered into someone else’s home that led her to be so unconcerned by abrupt changes in surroundings.

Lisa had adapted as well as could be expected. The last time Spike had talked to his father, the elder Giles had suggested that the little girl had most likely had an easier time of it than Spike had.

Spike himself had refrained from comment, not willing to admit it was most likely true.

He hadn’t bothered to contact his father’s friend yet. Though Giles insisted it was stubborn of him not to. But they were doing just fine together so far, if Spike said so himself. They were beginning to get into a schedule of sorts. They both liked to sleep in a little, usually eating breakfast around ten o’clock. Then they watched cartoons, both equally fascinated by the Rollie Pollie Ollies. Later in the day, when Lisa napped, Spike broke out his laptop and worked.

It didn’t take long for Spike to realize that he must have lucked out and gotten the most low-maintenance child on the face of the earth. She was independent -- well, as independent as a three year old could be -- and quiet. Numerous times Spike would creep by her bedroom and stand outside the door and listen in as Lisa maneuvered her doll around the room, playing “house.”

Granted, they had their rough spots. The first bathroom experience had been an interesting one. From using the toilet to taking a bath, Spike had been utterly clueless. How many times a week did you give a young child a bath? But Lisa seemed to have a system down and was very helpful to her overwhelmed uncle, going so far as to hand him the shampoo and soap, dictating the correct order.

He looked down at the sleeping baby girl in his lap, “It’s just me and you now, isn’t it poppet?” He leaned down and placed a kiss on the top of her head, situating the blanket more securely around them, before resting his head against the back of the chair and allowing his eyes to drift shut.



And I could write a song
A hundred miles long
Well that’s where I belong
And you belong with me

You cut me down to size
And opened up my eyes
Made me realize
What I could not see

Not swallowed in the sea
You belong with me
-Coldplay’s “Swallowed In The Sea”




A few days later, Spike deemed it time to explore their new neighborhood. Knowing there was a local park within walking distance, he suited up his newly acquired charge and together they made the trek to the busy playground.

Content to play on her own, Lisa warily ventured to the sandbox, glancing over every couple minutes to make sure Spike was still at the nearby bench watching her.

But she needn’t worry, for her uncle was slowly revealing himself to be the most overprotective guardian on the grounds. Paranoid to the extent of feeling ridiculous, Spike maneuvered himself around the parameter to follow Lisa’s every move. When she climbed to the top of the slide, Spike made his way towards the other end, making sure she shot out at the bottom. What Spike thought would happen to her inside the five feet of tubing was beyond him, but he couldn’t help himself.

Children tend to be a little squishy and bruise easy and cry even easier. When Lisa had been running around their living room, she banged her knee against the coffee table in the middle of the room, letting out a blood-curling scream that had Spike tripping through the doorway to get to her.

Spike was determined to see this kid to at least the age of four.

Lost in thought for a split second, Spike jumped when he felt a tug on his pant leg. That was another reason he watched her like a hawk. He had learned in his short foray into parenthood that kids could disappear within nanoseconds. He’d sit Lisa down for lunch, turn around to get a bowl, then find her twenty stressful minutes later hidden behind the pots and pans in the cupboard. Now his niece looked up at him, her little fingers still wrapped around his jeans, “I gotta go potty.”

“Um . . . Okay . . . Ah . . .” Spike looked around helplessly. This was new. They’d never been in a public place before when this particular situation had arose. And he couldn’t just wish her luck and send her into a strange bathroom, she’d need help. Was he supposed to take her into the men’s room? He couldn’t do that -- what if some guy was taking a piss? That would raise a whole bunch of questions he was not prepared to answer. And he certainly couldn’t go into the ladies room.

Someone behind him must have witnessed his distress. “I can take her,” a bright female voice called from behind him.

Spike spun around, temporarily struck dumb by the sight that met him. Her hair was wavy, parted on the side, and the color of sunshine. She was wearing black dress pants and some sort of frilly tank top. When she smiled at him and Lisa, her teeth shone as white as the clouds above them.

The beautiful blonde knelt down to the baby’s height, “Hi, I’m Buffy, what’s your name?” she asked sweetly.

“Lisa,” she answered, twisting in her sundress.

Buffy took in the little girl’s ensemble, “Did you pick out your own outfit this morning, Lisa?”

The little brunette shook her head, “No, my Uncle Spike did,” Lisa pointed up at her relation.

Buffy giggled, glancing at Spike before turning back to Lisa, “Well that explains why you have two mismatched shoes on,” she looked to Spike.

“I’m a little new at this,” Spike ducked his head sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Is it okay if I take her?” Buffy asked, waiting for his consent.

Spike fumbled with his words, “I’d be eternally grateful,” he finally got out.

She smiled at his again -- smile that was going to be the death of him. Turning back to Lisa, she held out her hand. The little girl instantly grabbed on and allowed herself to be led to the small concrete building that housed the public restrooms.

Minutes later, Buffy and Lisa emerged from the restroom.

“All done,” Buffy reported as they approached, “and were you aware that her underwear was on backwards?”

“I wouldn’t be surprised,” he smiled ruefully, which earned him another laugh from Buffy. “So,” he continued, unwilling to let their paths uncross just yet, “you come here often? You bring your kids here, I guess.” His eyes swept the playground, on the lookout for a group of brat kids to come running to interrupt them, tugging on their mother’s pants leg. But on the other hand, Spike was in no position to be dating right now.

But Buffy, to his immense pleasure, shook her head, “No, I cut through here on my way home from work. It’s my lunch break and I was going home to grab some papers.”

“I’m hungry,” Lisa objected, looking up forlornly at her uncle.

“Okay,” Spike replied, his mind making a quick shift in focus, it had been hours since breakfast. He looked to Buffy again for help, “We’re kind of new to the area, do you know anywhere where we could get some food?” He said it in earnest, not in flirting, having other priorities at the moment besides getting laid, among them not starving a toddler. It felt different.

“Actually, I was headed to this place called Al’s. They make pretty good pancakes.” She turned to Lisa, “You like pancakes?”

Lisa nodded eagerly in response and both girls looked to Spike for the final verdict.

“Lead the way.”

TBC

CHAPTER 4 --

Buffy leaned across the booth, “So when is your mommy and daddy coming to get you?”

Lisa shrugged her shoulders, using her fork like a spear to stab the pieces of pancake Spike cut for her and scoop them into her mouth.

“No,” Spike intervened, “Mommy and Daddy took a little trip, so we’re flat mates for awhile, aren’t we luv?” he brushed her licorice hair away from her chubby cheeks so she wouldn’t get syrup in the silky strands.

His tone and the reaction of the little girl told Buffy there was much more to this story, but it was none of her business so she didn’t pry.

For the past half hour, Buffy had let herself become enraptured by the interaction between uncle and niece, smiling as Spike showed Lisa how to blow bubbles in her chocolate milk and how Lisa swung her legs excitedly under the table as she explained to her and Spike the picture she had drawn on the back of the paper placemat with the crayons the waitress had given her.

Just then a inflatable toy store ball bounced across the floor next to them. “There’s a ball!” Lisa exclaimed in delight, all bright innocence and sweetness.

Spike leaned into his niece, “Yes, sweetheart, that’s a ball. What color’s that ball?”

“Blue!” she exclaimed, drawling out the L-sound and bending at the waist, straining in Spike’s arms to reach the toy.

“That’s good, baby!” Spike praised. He had learned quickly that once Lisa had started talking to him, the idea was to keep her talking, even if it was through the simplest of questions. Now, three weeks together, they had a fairly easy report most days. Spike even prided himself on his newfound ability to decode Lisa’s toddler speak and fragmented sentences.

Seconds later a small chocolate lab went scurrying across the floor, its paws sliding on the tile of the floor as it chased after the ball. Lisa gasped in surprise, popping up in her seat to watch the puppy continue through the restaurant.

“You wanna go play with him?” Buffy asked the bouncing child.

Lisa nodded emphatically, her eyes never leaving the playing dog.

Spike’s grip tightened on his niece, eyeing Buffy warily.

“It’ll be okay,” she assured him, “It’s the owner’s dog, kids play with him all the time.”

Reluctantly, Spike grasped Lisa around her waist, lifting her up and over his head, eliciting riotous giggles from her, before setting her feet on the floor next to the table.

Spike and Buffy watched as she cautiously approached the friendly puppy, who sniffed around the baby and welcomed her gentle petting.

“Where are you two originally from?” Buffy asked, forcing Spike to tear his eyes away from Lisa, although looking at Buffy was no real chore for him.

“Los Angeles,” he answered.

Her eyes widened, “Oh, wow. Sunnydale’s a little different, huh? Did you find a job around here?” she inquired.

“Actually, I still have the same job. I’m a writer. And, as my dad likes to remind me, I can do it from anywhere. So, what about you, luv? You said you cut through the park on the way home from work?”

“An art gallery,” she filled in. “It’s owned by my mother actually. So she gets to boss me around both at work and at home. Someday I’d like to partially own it.”

“I’m sure you will,” he answered confidently.

She tried to control her blush. “You’re very good with her,” she commented, nodding toward Lisa.

Spike shrugged, “Life threw us a little curve and we’re learning to deal.” He hesitated, not sure whether he wanted to delve into the reason he and Lisa were so far from home. He made the decision and hoped it was the right one. “Lisa’s father, my step-brother, abandoned her a couple weeks ago.”

Buffy gasped, “Oh my god,” her heart breaking for the little girl she was already so fond of. Spike went on to fill in Buffy with the whole story. He didn’t make a habit of telling random strangers his life story, but it was somehow different with Buffy and it felt good to talk about it, whereas before he felt as if he was stranded alone in this.

All too soon it was time for Lisa’s nap and Buffy to get back to work. They stood together outside the diner.

“Bye, Lisa,” Buffy knelt down to her new friend. “Sunnydale’s a pretty small place, I’m sure I’ll be seeing you around.”

Lisa catapulted herself into Buffy’s arms, wrapping her in a tight hug. The reaction startled both Buffy and Spike, but the gesture wasn’t unwelcome and Buffy stood up with Lisa in her arms.

“Now you listen to your Uncle Spike, okay? He may seem pretty clueless sometimes, but he’s doing his best.” Spike smiled and Lisa nodded obediently.

Buffy placed Lisa on her feet, who seemed a bit reluctant to see Buffy go, which made Spike even more hesitant than he already was to break up their little group. Wasn’t it dogs and children that were usually abnormally good judges of character?

As he watched Buffy disappear around the corner, something occurred to Spike.

He never got her last name.

TBC

CHAPTER 5 --

Over the next week, Spike considered looking up all the art galleries in Sunnydale. There couldn’t possibly be many and once he got the phone numbers of the various stores, tracking Buffy down would be simple.

But a few well-placed sneezes on the playground had Lisa out of commission all seven days, giving Spike something else to keep busy with – including snot and way more throw up then he had ever planned on dealing with.

Now, with Lisa finally back to perfect health and currently taking a break from grooving to the tunes of The Wiggles, he sat on the couch and opened his wallet and fished out the address of his father’s contact -- a Mrs. Joyce Summers. He used to carry condoms in his wallet and blast the Sex Pistols. Now it was business cards of various pediatricians, the local poison control center, and the pre-school Lisa would be attending. And blaring out from his four-speaker stereo was not Johnny Rotten, but a Disney compilation of various songs from all of Lisa’s favorite movies.

He glanced down at his cluttered coffee table. Where Playboy used to reside were now parenting books and pamphlets about toddler nutrition.

Forty-five minutes later, after wrestling a sweater on Lisa, spending fifteen minutes explaining to her why she couldn’t take the entire contents of her bedroom with them, then eventually agreeing on Lisa’s collection of toy dinosaurs, they were standing on the porch of the Summers’ residence on Revello Drive.

Spike knocked on the door, stepped back, and took a hold of the backpack that rested on Lisa’s shoulders so she couldn’t wander, off as her little tapping toes insinuated she wanted to do. It seemed Lisa felt the need to make up for the energy-draining sickness of last week

Seconds later, a women in her late forties who looked pleasant enough answered the door.

“May I help you?”

“Joyce Summers?” Spike asked distractedly, darting his eyes back and forth between the woman and Lisa, who was currently tugging on the backpack and pin-wheeling her arms, trying to escape him.

“Yes,” she relied in a polite voice, looking confusedly at the pair.

“I’m William Giles, I just moved into the immediate area. I believe you talked to my father?”

“Oh, William, yes!” She relaxed in the doorframe, “I was wondering if you’d come around, it’s so nice to see you! Please come in,” she let them into the foyer, “I take it you and Lisa have been doing well?”

“We were until today, apparently,” he commented dryly as Lisa weaved herself through his legs, almost tripping him, both excited and frightful of her new surroundings. Joyce didn’t seem to mind that the smallest guest was hiding behind Spike. With his hand on her back, she slowly emerged.

Joyce smiled at the two of them, noting his patience with his niece, “They can be a handful.”

“Yeah,” he agreed, freeing Lisa from her backpack and handing it to her to rummage through. He hoped the Summers household didn’t have anything valuable in it – some ancient Japanese piece of irreplaceable art or some such rot. At the rate Lisa was going, he could easily see a family heirloom broken into a million pieces in the near future. “Nobody warned me that . . .”

“Spike?”

His eyes immediately shot to the top of the staircase in front of him, the shock written all over his face.

Buffy descended the stairs, shooting her mother a look, before turning her gaze back to him, “How did you know where I lived?”

“I . . . Ah . . .” he fumbled over his words, the explanation was easy enough but Spike, both thrilled and unprepared to see Buffy, couldn’t get the words out.

“Spike?” Mrs. Summers interrupted, questioning the nickname. “I thought your name was William?” Spike’s eyes bounced between the two women who were giving him identical quizzical looks, eager for answers.

The older woman, who Spike now came to realize as Buffy’s mother, considered them, “Oh, you two know each other?”

Buffy’s lips quirked, “I helped him with a public restroom situation.”

Spike smiled, internally hitting himself for not catching on the other day when she had told him her mother owned an art gallery, a piece of information he already knew thanks to his dad.

“How would you two like some hot coco?” Joyce offered kindly.

“With little marshmallows?” Lisa jumped excitedly, knocking over some dinosaurs she had been delicately arranging seconds prior.

“Of course,” Joyce winked at her, turning towards the kitchen, “You guys just make yourselves at home in the living room.”

Spike called his thanks, pivoting back to Buffy.

The two shared an awkward silence.

“I, um, better go help her,” Buffy backed into the room where her mother had disappeared into moments before.

Spike nodded and sighed, letting Lisa loose from his tight grip, and hoping he wouldn’t regret it later.




“I don’t see what the big surprise is. I told you he was coming over,” Joyce answered her eldest, confused as to why she was so flustered.

“No, you told me William was coming over,” Buffy answered, stressing the name.

Joyce paused, two mugs in her hands, “Aren’t they the same person?” she asked perplexed.

“Yes, but . . .”

“Whoa,” Dawn swung into the room from staircase, “Who’s the hottie in the living room?”

“Ask your sister,” Joyce sighed, washing her hands of the confusion.

Dawn arched a delicate brow at Buffy. “So?” Dawn prodded.

“Buffy, go tell William and Lisa their hot chocolate is ready,” their mother interrupted, not wanting an argument to break out between the two while there was company.

Buffy, glad to escape the faces her sister was making at her, entered the room, the announcement on her lips, but immediately halted.

Sprawled on their stomachs across the rug were Spike and Lisa.

“You play with . . .” her little fingers danced over the figurines, “This one!” She pushed a dinosaur into his hands.

“Okay,” he answered gamely.

“What’s that one?” she inquired, pointing at his toy.

“A T-Rex,” he replied.

“What’s this one?” she pointed to her own.

“A triceratops,” he answered again, not minding her infinite amount of questions because he was just too happy that he had succeeded in getting her to stay in one place for the time being.

She bashed her dinosaur into his, “Grrrrrr,” she growled at him, making him laugh, which in turn sent her into a fit full of giggles. “I’ll eat you!” she warned.

“You can’t eat me, you only eat plants,” he chuckled.

“You wanna play too?” Lisa asked, holding out a toy in Buffy’s direction, forcing Spike to realize she was there.

Buffy jumped; embarrassed in being caught staring and the subsequent smirk Spike sent her. She was sure it was because he had witnessed what must have been an unknowingly dreamy smile on her face.

“Hot chocolate’s ready,” she squeaked out, fleeing back into the kitchen.

TBC

CHAPTER 6 –

Later that evening, Buffy escorted Spike, with a sleeping Lisa in his arms, onto the porch to say goodnight. After she had managed to cease her spaziness and relax around Spike, Buffy had had a great day with the little girl; running around the house, sharing toys and dolls with her that her mother was saving (as she kept reminding Buffy) for future grandchildren. While Spike and her mother had conversed in the other room, discussing schools, playgrounds, and available daycare, Buffy had more than willingly taken over the job as playmate for the day. At Lisa’s eagerness to join up with Buffy, Spike had made the joke that Lisa was more than excited to stare at someone else other than him for the day.

Most of Buffy’s memories of growing up with a little sister were of fighting over one thing or another. It was amazing to actually enjoy a kid. Buffy’s feelings were indescribable when, after banging her toe on a doorframe, a tearful Lisa had let Buffy be the one to comfort her. Although Buffy still thought it was adorable when a tired Lisa would automatically reach out for Spike and he’d scoop her up attentively, reigning tiny kisses on her head.

Despite the competence Spike obviously had with the current situation with Lisa, it was apparent that he was not the type who had been dreaming of kids before his niece was thrust upon him. He was still jumpy and easily distracted when he heard a noise he thought might be Lisa. Buffy in particular found it kind of sweet, the way he constantly checked up on her while running around the house and yard with Buffy. At one point, after his fifth time checking in and getting a queer look from Buffy, he’d even apologized, saying it wasn’t that he didn’t trust her with Lisa, it was just his apparent paranoia he never knew he had and had a hard time controlling. He fumbled with his words all while running his fingers nervously through his hair, further breaking out the curls he shared with his niece.

Now, on the porch, he rocked on his feet nervously. “Buffy,” Spike began, “I wanted to ask you something, sort of a favor, though I hope you won’t see it as that.”

“What?” Buffy asked, as she reached out to rub her hand over Lisa’s back soothingly. She had done it subconsciously, and Spike didn’t seem to mind.

“It’s . . . well, it was Lisa’s birthday was just before I got her. In the confusion, I’m sure my brother did nothing for her. She turned three. I wanted to do something for her and . . . I know she’d want you to be there. It’s nothing big, just a small group of us. My dad and step-mom are probably coming over from London too. And the invitation’s extended to your mum and little sis, of course.”

“What’s the theme?” Buffy inquired, intent on being there.

Spike’s brows knitted together, “Theme?”

“For the party, there has to be a theme,” she informed him. “The table cloth, the plates, the cake . . . .”

“There has to be a theme? Hadn’t really thought about that.”

Buffy laughed at his perplexed look, “Haven’t you ever been to a little kid’s birthday party?”

“Not since I was five,” he answered, looking at her as she giggled. God she was beautiful. It was probably pretty presumptuous of him to think she’d go out with him. She was just being nice, helping out her mother’s charity case.

Buffy tried to imagine him at a little kid’s birthday party. Once Lisa started school, there would be no end to the parties and get-togethers having a young child demanded. He was going to need some help. “Well, what does she like?”

He thought a minute, “She has a Raggedy Anne doll that she refuses to hand over, even when it’s dirty. She got chocolate pudding all over it the other day . . . had to sneak it from her while she was sleeping in order to wash it.”

Buffy smiled, “Well, your in luck because Raggedy Anne is coming back into favor so that should be easy enough to find. If you want I can come with you. We could even take her along and let her pick it out herself in case she sees something else she like better.”

Spike was surprised, yet grateful, “That would be fantastic, luv, thanks.”

Neither of them seemed particularly eager to get off the porch, and Buffy was content simply being there in the cool night with him, standing close and talking quietly with only the crickets as background noise. “You’re very good with her,” she told him, staring at his face. His eyes were a riveting shade of blue. It was a shame Lisa wasn’t blood related to him and had inherited the secondary trait of her uncle’s.

She really shouldn’t be having these thoughts. He had other things on his mind more important. He hadn’t mentioned having a girlfriend back in L.A. and Buffy had assumed he didn’t have one. Who knew? Maybe there was some L.A. fake-baked hussy waiting to step into the mommy role for Lisa? The thought of it made Buffy queasy. He deserved better. Her maybe?

Spike shrugged, “Yeah, well, as a playmate, maybe. I can’t even think of what I’m going to do if I ever have to discipline her. I just can’t imagine myself ever scolding her. Not with the circumstances. Every action she does in her life will be warranted because her father, and mother, didn’t want her.”

“Well the fact that you care so much about her to think that way just shows how lucky she is that she has you.” She smiled softly. Hesitating for just a moment, she lifted on to tiptoes to kiss him on the cheek. “I think you’ll be amazing,” she whispered, ignoring his shocked look. “Goodnight,” she said, turning back into the house and shutting the door quietly.


____________________________________


Spike had contemplated mentioning the kiss the next morning on the phone with Buffy. But why complicate such a beautiful moment? Instead, he stayed focused on concreting plans to pick her up and for the three of them go to the local toy store for party supplies and some early birthday gifts.

The breeze traveling though the vast store hit them as the automatic doors slid open. The three of them stood in the entrance. Spike looked down to Lisa, who was holding each of their hands, eyes dancing around the five foot plush animals and ten foot high Barbie wall that surrounded them.

“Okay, kid, go wild,” Spike told Lisa, loosening his grip on her hand.

If anything, Lisa tightened her hold. Unattended children Lisa’s age and older ran amok up and down the aisleways, screaming, laughing, and crying. Lisa shifted back and just stood there, completely unsure.

“Never been to a toy store, I see,” Spike remarked, not wanting to force anything on her, but convinced this was an experience she had to have. Hell, just seeing the aisle with screen after screen of the newest video games had made him giddy.

“I think she needs a lead to follow,” Buffy suggested, looking to Spike.

“Alright,” Spike answered gamely. “Come on,” he let go of Lisa’s hand and grabbed Buffy’s, dragging her a few steps away to an array of hoola-hoops, large bouncing balls, and pogo sticks that lay abandoned on the floor.

Picking up a pogo stick, Spike took a moment to get his balance then boosted himself on, completing two and a half successful bounces before stumbling off. Lisa giggled a little at his almost fall. Buffy, seeing where he was going with this, retrieved a hoola-hoop. Not having attempted hoola-hooping since she wore pigtails, she was fully aware she was most likely about to make an idiot out of herself. And it was great.

Buffy impressed even herself by completing six or so rotations around her hips before the rainbow toy fell to the floor with a rattle. Lisa was transfixed and cautiously approached a pink hoola-hoop, almost as tall as her. After unsuccessfully trying to imitate Buffy, she improvised by using the hoop as a sort of jump rope. Laughing as she clumsily leapt around the plastic circle. Spike did her one better by taking up another ring and spinning it wildly around the floor where it rotated until crashing into a tall container of Juicy Fruits.

Lisa quickly tired of the toy and, now hyper, whipped her head around, long curls bouncing.

“Barbie! Uncle Spike! Barbie!” She didn’t even bother looking back at her uncle as she booked it to the gigantic wall of solid distinct hot pink.

“Oh, so it begins,” Spike remarked, following behind next to Buffy. “I thought I could put off turning my home into naked Barbie land for a few more years.”

Buffy laughed. “Every girl needs Barbie!” she jokingly squealed in a girlish voice. “Come on, Uncle Spike.” She yanked on his arm until stumbled forward. Grinning, he swept her clean off her feet, throwing her around until she straddled him “piggyback” style. She laughed, pointing the where Lisa stood riffling through the dolls and he took off after her.

TBC

CHAPTER 7 –

“Am I even?” Buffy, delicately balancing on a chair in brown heeled boots, called down to Spike. He looked up, studying the height on the streamer she held in her hand. He tried to ignore the flash of skin he got when her shirt rose up. He meanderingly wondered if she was wearing a bra.

He didn’t know what had happened to him. Well, yes he did, Buffy Summers had happened to him. It had been simmering under the surface since the day he had met her. But ever since that innocent little kiss on the cheek she gave him he didn’t know which way was up. Even Lisa was looking at him weird these days, like she was wondering what the deal was with spacey Uncle Spike. Now, every time he tried to concentrate on something pertinent, his mind ended up toying with lecherous thoughts of Buffy and various food items. It was on the verge of getting ridiculous.

Since his father and Jenny were taking a taxi from the airport to the house, Spike was relieved of that particular duty and had more time to finish the decorations. Buffy had come over early to help. Lisa had run circles around them, begging to help too. So she was currently over at the dining room table nudging red and blue paper plates and plastic silverware onto place settings.

They had found Raggedy Anne and Andy party supplies at the toy store and Lisa had shown the most interest in those. Now his entire downstairs was adorned with the dolls’ faces. Lisa (and now Buffy at Lisa’s request) was wearing cardboard paper cones on their heads covered in a collage of the dolls. Buffy’s mom had even made Lisa a dress. Lisa had woken Spike up at an ungodly hour that morning, new dress clutched in her hand, demanding his help with the buttons. It was a little blue dress with ruffled cap sleeves and a petite white apron with miniature white buttons. With the exception of the hair color, Lisa was now a twin to her doll. In a neatly arranged pile in the living room was a quickly growing stack of colorfully wrapped presents, which Spike kept playfully chasing Lisa away from.

“Is it going to be awkward?” Buffy asked him, while he held out a hand to help her off the chair, “Angel’s mom here with him disappearing?”

Spike shrugged, “Angel may be Jenny’s son, but she knows what an idiot he can be.” They were interrupted by the doorbell. “Them already?” He followed the rapid clicking of Lisa’s patent leather shoes. She beat him to the door and flung it open. They were still working on the whole don’t-open-the-door-to-strangers thing.
“Hello Lisa!” an older man, Spike’s father Buffy surmised from the accent, greeted warmly, bending down on one knee to admire her. A woman, who must be Jenny, bent over him, telling her how pretty her dress was. Lisa took their attention eagerly, spinning on tiptoes to show off. Spike caught her when she tripped and righted her. Unfazed, she darted into the living room, excited from the company.

Spike’s parents, heavily weighed down with enough presents for a small preschool, entered the house and Buffy got a good look at them. Jenny had dark features, matching those of the picture of Angel Spike had shown her. While Spike’s father shared his accent and lighter shading, that was about it. Rupert Giles could not have looked more different than his son. Spike had said he took after his mother, but that was a massive understatement.

“Buffy’s mom made the dress,” Spike offered, relieving his parents of some of the boxes and leading them into the living where Buffy waited.

“Buffy?” Giles looked perplexed, “What’s a Buffy?”

Buffy took a step forward, bringing herself into view, “I’m a Buffy, actually.” She smiled hesitantly.

At the sight of the attractive blonde, Giles shot his son a look, one which Spike answered with a raise of his eyebrows in an innocent “What did I do?” gesture.

“I’m Joyce’s daughter.” Buffy offered, having witnessed Giles’ reaction.

“Oh!” Giles looked visibly relived. “Buffy, I’m so sorry, I’m afraid we’ve never met.” He offered her hand warmly and she took it. “You have to forgive me, my son’s track record led to me to jump to the conclusions you were . . .”

“Rupert,” Jenny interrupted firmly, elbowing him out of the way, “You’re babbling. Buffy, it’s so nice to meet you.”

Spike let out the breath he had been holding and smiled gratefully at Jenny. Great, now Buffy was going to think he was some sort of man whore. Granted, back in L.A. he did have a revolving door of women, but not anymore. Not since Lisa had come into his life. And if he wanted to pursue something – someday – with Buffy, now was not the time to be delving into his past. All that would lead to is a childhood filled with horrible poetry, an adolescence of run-ins with the law, and adulthood full of women whose names he couldn’t remember. None of which would be putting him into a favorable light.

He was saved from any further embarrassment by the doorbell. It was Joyce and Dawn. The latter greeted Spike before going in search of her sister. Joyce joined his parents.

While niceties were made, Joyce and Jenny marveled at how they hadn’t seen each other in years, and everyone was introduced, Lisa was getting impatient.

“Uncle Spike,” she whined, twisting in her dress, clutching at a balloon.

“Ok, sweetheart,” he soothed, smoothing down her curls, and drawing the attention of everyone, “What would you like first?”

“Cake!” she declared, smiling when they laughed at her glee.

Jenny turned to her husband, “Rupert, go out and bring the rest of the gifts in would you?”

“There’s more!?” objected Spike, craning his neck to follow his father. He had a feeling Lisa’s grandparents were going to overcompensate for the loss of Angel, but this was above and beyond.

Sure enough, Giles reentered the house with another bag of presents on one arm, and a red classic Radio Flyer tricycle in the other. The chrome handlebars and fender shone against the sun streaming in through the door behind him. Giles sat it down and rang the trike’s bell, which had Lisa sprinting to him. “Anything for our baby,” Jenny cooed, taking Lisa’s beaming cheeks in her hands. In seconds Lisa was off, peddling away from the group and fighting to maneuver herself toward the living room. Spike immediately saw the bad idea of turning her loose in a room full of breakables and sharp edges and quickly scooped her and the bike up, ignoring her outburst of protest, and quickly turning her around to bike into the kitchen, a less scary room now that the cupboards were latched and the knives put away.

Soon Lisa grew tired of the bike for the moment and remembered her ignored request for cake. The grown-ups were already sitting around the kitchen table laughing and Lisa, getting tired of not being the center of attention, had peddled back into the hallway and disappeared. Having honed his ear for uneasy silence, Spike got up from the table mid-conversation. Buffy put a hand on his leg, giving him a concerned look. He shrugged her off, telling her it should be okay, and headed out of the kitchen to find his niece. He was beginning to think she had somehow inherited his penchant for trouble. For the easiness of the transition to Sunnydale, Lisa was more than making up for it now.

He walked into the living room to find the comforter from Lisa’s bed thrown hap-hazardously over the coffee table and part of the chair – in effect making the tent he had shown her how to make last week.

“Hmmmm. Where’s Lisa?” he called out, playing like he didn’t realize the cover he had just washed a couple days ago had been dragged down the steps and thrown into the middle of the living room. “Where’s the baby?” He heard her huffing and small whines she made when she was upset over something coming from under the cover. Spike sighed dramatically, “Oh well, I’m just gonna have to have cake and presents without the birthday girl.” He made loud steps, feigning that he was leaving the room.

“I’m here,” she huffed piteously. She hadn’t gotten a lot of sleep the night before because she was so excited and had woken up very early, contributing to her uneasy mood.

Seconds later, Spike lifted one end of her tent. “There you are,” he exclaimed, laying down on the floor so he could slide partly into the tent. “You’re going to miss your birthday.” Lisa shrugged, laying her head on her crossed arms. “This is a good tent,” he admired, “Who taught you how to build a tent this good?”

“You,” she admitted.

Spike nodded, “That’s right. We have a lot of fun don’t we?”

She nodded, a bit more eagerly.

“Well, there are an awful lot of presents and big cake with your name on it. We can’t eat it without you. Think of all the fun we can have, playing with your new stuff.”

Then came the question he had been both dreading and waiting for. “Where’s Daddy?” she asked. Spike almost cried, in sadness for this little girl and in frustration for Angel’s stupidity.

He had thought over and over and over about how he would handle this situation when it arose. And he had decided long ago that honesty was the best. She had been jerked around by her mother and father from birth. She didn’t deserve that from them and she certainly wasn’t going to get that same treatment from him. “We don’t know,” he replied. “I’m sure he misses you though.” Spike purposely tried not to think too much of Angel and what had got them in this current situation. He just put his head down and did whatever he had to do to get them through the day.

Lisa made no response and Spike didn’t miss the few tears that slid down her cheeks.

“I don’t know, but that rectangle box over there from Buffy looks like something you were admiring at the store the other day,” he hinted.

“Babysitter Barbie?” she warbled, a hint of excitement in her voice.

“Might be. But we can’t find out until we have cake. What do ya say? Is it time for cake?”

“Yeah!” Lisa replied, temporarily broken from her bad mood.

Spike backed out of the tent, “Come on sweetheart,” he held out his arms and slid Lisa from her hiding spot, picking her up to wrap her arms around his neck and carry her into the kitchen. What met him there made him almost drop his niece.

“And here’s a picture of Will in school. This was before the punk stage. Wasn’t he cute in his glasses?” Jenny was whipping out pictures from her purse and everyone, most importantly Buffy, was hunched over the table, staring at snapshots of him from all different ages.

“Oh, bloody Christ, Jenny!” She looked up at him, not the least bit ashamed.

“Bloody Christ!” Lisa echoed, awfully proud of herself.

The entire kitchen froze. Spike watched helplessly as his father gave him a look over his glasses before taking them off to agitatedly clean them with his shirt.

“I swear to God that’s the first time that’s happened,” Spike vowed, waiting for his father’s reprimand like he was in third grade again.

“Oh, Rupert, don’t you remember the words he used to repeat off you when he was Lisa’s age. In fact,” she began, drawing in her audience, “there was this one time in particular . . .”

“Okay, enough,” Spike interrupted, “take those bloody pictures off the table, it’s time for cake.

TBC

CHAPTER 8 --

A/N: WARNING: Part of this chapter could be considered rated NC-17. I think it’s more R, but (if you’re 18 or older) you be the judge. You can probably skip over it and easily still follow the story.

A/N: I think the scene coming up (you’ll know when you get to it) is best read while listening to the Buffy-soundtrack version of “Wild Horses”. I like to de-Bangel songs, and this one worked well while I was writing the scene.


Amongst the clanging of dishes being cleaned by her mother, Jenny, and Giles, Buffy leaned with her elbows propping herself up on the counter and picked up Spike’s digital camera, flickering through the numerous pictures that had been taken by everyone throughout the evening. She smiled, gazing at the group photos of everyone singing Happy Birthday. Next were pictures of Lisa, sitting in Spike’s lap, with smeared cake all over her face. The next few played as a series portraying Lisa as she leaned over and smacked Spike in the face, icing oozing through her fingers and all over him, by far the highlight of the evening. The last few pictures were of Lisa posing with her various new toys. There were some great ones of her smiling at the camera on her brand new bike that Buffy had to remember to ask for copies of.

In the living room, Spike leaned against the wall and crossed his arms, surveying the damage done to his living room. Shredded wrapping paper, bows, empty boxes, fallen streamers, and dirty paper plates, cups, and napkins littered his entire space. It would be easier to clean it all up after he put Lisa to bed he decided. Otherwise she’d be tricycling through the carnage and jumping in the piles of trash. Though, with the amount of sugar in her system, she may never sleep. Although, she was getting short tempered and cranky (the obvious signs it was past her bedtime) and had crawled into Buffy’s lap a half hour ago and hadn’t moved.

“Wishing for the Molly Maids?” came a voice behind him. Buffy came and rested beside him.

He smiled, “Lisa get her second wind?” he questioned the absence of his niece from her hip.

Buffy shook her head, “Just saying goodbye to my mom and your parents,” she replied. Giles and Jenny were headed to a hotel for the night. “They’re really nice by the way.”

“Yeah,” Spike nodded, enjoying the now quiet house and being there with Buffy, who seemed in no hurry to leave, to his glee.

“You want some help?” she asked, gesturing to the mess.

“Nah, I think I’ll just deal with it tomorrow, it’s getting late.” They heard the door shut, signifying the last of the guests had gone.

Lisa came shuffling in to them, wearing footie pajamas with little bunnies on the feet she had opened a couple hours earlier. She rubbed her eyes sleepily and swayed exaggeratedly, looking to Spike like she was going to drop any second. It was obvious she hadn’t fully woken up yet from her sugar-crash nap. Lisa looked up at the two of them, her eyes unfocused on Buffy, “Mommy,” she inquired sleepily, lifting her arms up to Buffy.

Buffy and Spike froze in the doorway, what was previously a beautifully quiet moment turned viciously awkward. Lisa, unaware of what she had just done, laid her head on Buffy’s leg for support.

Spike opened his mouth, to say what he didn’t know, but she saved him, “No, its okay, I’ll take her.” Buffy scooped Lisa up and ascended the stairs, Spike trailing behind her silently.

Spike waited until Buffy laid Lisa down to go in and say goodnight. As he closed her bedroom door with a snick he almost collided with Buffy when he turned. She was standing so close he deeply inhaled her perfume. Judging their silence as awkward, he began the flimsy excuse he had prepared on their trip up the stairs for damage control.

“I’m sorry about the mommy thing,” he apologized. “From what I understand, she never really had a mother.” He breathed deep and held his breath, hoping to God Lisa’s word wouldn’t ruin his relationship with Buffy, that she would understand the situation.

Buffy was silent for a moment, her eyes searching the floor. When she did finally meet his eyes, he was taken aback at the confidence he found in them. “Well, from what I understand, she never really had a father . . . Until you.”

He was surprised to find her hand tentatively on the sleeve of his gray t-shirt, her fingers running over the cotton.

“Buffy,” he let out the breath. Any words that were supposed to follow were gone from his mind when she reached up and her lips pressed against his.

He immediately wrapped his arms around her and never thought he was more aware of breasts pressing into him. They stumbled across the hallway through the open door into his bedroom. He thought she might not have noticed where they were and eased up on the kiss, wanting to slow things down instead of getting abruptly cut off.

Instead, she moved them further into the room, made a comment about his decorating he didn’t catch, and quickly resumed her attack on his mouth. All he could think was, well, this is . . . quick. Granted he had no qualms about this particular turn of events – good God no. It was just . . . surprising is all.

The same thought must have occurred to her, because as she pushed him down onto the bed she told him, “I . . . I don’t usually do this.”

“Do what?” he asked distractedly, screwing with the buttons of her shirt when she climbed on top of him.

“First kiss and sleep with someone in the same night,” she replied breathlessly, running her fingers through his hair, her eyes urging him on impatiently.

“Good to know I’m special,” he replied as he freed her from the garment.

She gave him a little smile. “Very,” she answered. Her fingers fumbled with his zipper as he simultaneously whipped his t-shirt over his head.

The thought of just how experienced, or inexperienced, Buffy might be ran through his mind. She was so sweet and good, he thought of her as being virginal – young small town girl like her. But then, those same small towners who had nothing much else to do, were known for fooling around in backseats on football game nights. He thought he might prefer it the first way, but the much appreciated tenacity in which she was going at him suggested otherwise. Before he could give the conundrum further consideration, his dick finally told his brain to shut the hell up and go with it. Either way this was not going to be some quick roll in the hay so in the end it didn’t matter.

“God, Buffy, you’re amazing,” he blurted.

She hesitated a moment, framing his face with her hands, “And I haven’t even done anything yet,” she smiled flirtingly. Her hair was disheveled but she didn’t care. Whereas any other day she’d feel self-conscious about it, the way he was looking at her now made her feel incredible. In return for his compliment, she pushed him back onto the bed, holding him there with one hand. “What do you want?” she asked him, hooking an arm around her to unclasp her bra, letting it fall down her shoulders and off.

He tried to say something witty, something to make her smile, but all he got out was, “Pants. Off.”

She laughed anyway, “Alright.” She slid off him to her feet. He took the opportunity to lose his own pants as he pushed his body up the bed. She made a show of toeing off her sandals and peeling her jeans off her body, her lacy white underwear coming off with them. Her long hair fell over her shoulders framing her breasts.

Immediacy rushed over him and amongst her giggles he took her arm and yanked her over onto the bed and under him to kiss her and run his tongue up her neck to her ear. He slid against her folds and she sighed, her head hit the bed and her back arched gracefully.

He entered her and it was then that all momentum slowed. Their playful foreplay dissipated and the gravity of what they were doing hit them. She elegantly rolled them so she was on top. As she sat up, she flung her hair over her head and back, running her hands over his chest. That hair was going to be the death of him.

Where she caressed him, her nails raked over his skin and his arms stayed over his head as she began rising and falling. Her stomach performed an enticing belly dance as it concaved when her breasts thrust forward and curved when her back rounded. He watched transfixed as she took her pleasure from him, eyes closed and head thrown back.

He was so spellbound that he barely noticed his orgasm approaching until her speed increased and his hands went to her hips. Her eyes met his and he watched ravenously as they focused and unfocused and she licked her lips. Suddenly she climaxed and when she stiffened he flipped them over and ground into her, their foreheads touching and him watching her face. He reached his peak and she fell over the edge again.

He rolled off her onto sweaty sheets. “Told you you were amazing,” he panted, taking her hand and kissing it.

Buffy smiled contentedly, “Who said I disagreed?” she replied saucily.

TBC