Everything hurt. More than the pain produced by bloodlust when he'd first risen from his own grave.

But Spike still had his pride. He couldn't bear to be seen like this, chest heaving, showing more signs of life than it ever had since actually breathing over a century ago; the wounds on his face stinging as salty tears poured down it.

He was drinking from the fourth bottle of bourbon he'd nicked, his legs barely keeping up with him as he stumbled into his crypt. For a moment he felt absolutely mad, the scent of her invading his senses.

As if she was still here on this earth.

He stopped crying then, the mausoleum quiet aside from the sound of the glass clinking against the stone lid of the crypt occupying the center of the small, cold room as he put the bottle down. His chest tightened with terror and anxiety when the scent didn't wane. Spike's feet, still feeling disconnected from the rest of his body, made their way through the trap door and underground, where the smell of her grew stronger. It maddened him further when the sound of a quick heartbeat filled his sensitive ears.

Spike felt as though he'd been doused with ice water when he found something waiting for him in the middle of the bed. The small bundle was swaddled in plain linens, its pouting lips suckling at the air. The vampire's feet moved closer of their own accord, taking in the infant's long, black eyelashes and equally dark dusting of hair on its crown.

Its scent was very nearly Buffy's.

But what confused him further was he could smell him on the child, too.

The infant weighed nothing, Spike thought in wonder, as he lifted the precious child off the bed. Underneath the swaddled baby was a pastel pink paper the size and thickness of a postcard. He tucked the baby into one arm and plucked the paper from the bare mattress.

“A gift, for one who deserves,” Spike read softly, his gaze flickering over the lettering of whose penmanship he couldn't recognize.

And then, again, he burst into tears. But instead of the anger and pain that flooded him before, a healing joy washed over him, cleansed him, and filled him with life.

The sounds of his gasps woke the infant in his arms, who quietly stared out at him through crystal blue eyes that mirrored his own. He bent down to press his lips to the small child's forehead. “You're just a little person, there, aren't you,” he whispered, his voice still choked with tears—and now—now, with something else.

Wonderment.

“You sure you've got 'er?” Spike asked, his voice heavy with worry.

Clem rolled his eyes. “Spike, it's fine. Will you go?”

“M'just goin' down the road. I swear if I hear a peep from 'er--”

The loose-skinned demon raised his eyebrows. “Pretty sure you'll hear more than a peep. She's a baby. She cries.”

“Clem!” Spike growled.

The child in Clem's flabby arms wailed. “Really? That was all on you, Pop.”

“Shit,” Spike whispered, taking the girl up in his arms and tugging the bottle of formula from the other demon's hand. “M'sorry, baby. You'll be with Uncle Clement for now. Jus' gotta do a quick patrol and get some more of your nummies.”

Clem reached out his arms. “Hand over that sack of sugar!” he cooed.

Spike kissed her head and put her in Clem's waiting arms. “Be back soon,” he said with a wiggle of his fingers.

“Bye, Dad,” Clem called out jovially. “You really like those num nums, huh?” he asked the baby suckling from her bottle. He laughed heartily at her “mmmmm!” noises.

He put her on the floor for tummy time, lying on his stomach as well. He grabbed a couple of books and laid them in front of her.

“What do you wanna read this time, huh?” Clem asked. He plucked the first book she touched. “'Fuzzy Baby Animals' again? We gotta take you to a round of kitten poker sometime, Em.”

The baby in front of him whined and reached for the book. He shifted so he was lying down parallel to her so she could look at the pictures. “Look at that ducky! You gotta try it roasted, Margaret.” The girl beside him patted the book with her tiny fingertips. “Man, this book is so misleading. Who thought to give this duck fur? And let me tell ya, you don't wanna go anywhere near a duck. They stink pretty bad for things who are in water for a good amount of time!”

Margaret wasn't really paying attention, fingering the patch of yellow fuzz on the page in front of her. She gave it a experimental lick, her features crumpling when she found she didn't like the feel of strands of yellow fur on her tongue.

“You do that all the time,” Clem remarked. “And every time I hate to say I told ya so.” He giggled when Margaret stuck out her tongue in distaste, and he helped her remove a piece of fuzz from her mouth. “Aw, heck, you know I'm lyin'! I love to say I told ya so!”

Margaret proceeded to drool on the page.

The demon babysitter made a face. “We gotta teach you some manners.”

A knock on the door sounded a half hour later. Clem called for the visitor to come in, grinning when the younger Summers breezed in and immediately plopped on the floor.

“Margarine!” Dawn cooed, picking her up and kissing her. The baby giggled and cooed at her, fisting some of her hair.

“I imagine dear ol' Dad isn't far behind you?” Clem asked, wiping the drool-covered book with the sleeve of his shirt and closing it.

“He'll be here in a—” Dawn turned her head when the door creaked open, “--sec.”

“Tol' you not to run ahead of me,” Spike growled sternly, immediately going to the kitchen sink to wash his hands. “Anything coulda run at ya! And did you wash your hands?”

Dawn rolled her eyes and handed her niece to Clem, bounding up beside Spike and nudging him over with her hip to squirt some dish soap in her palm. “This soap makes my hands dry!”

“An' clean,” Spike rebutted with a raise of his eyebrows.

“Aw, sorry, Dawn,” Clem called out. “I keep forgettin'ta get you some hand lotion.”

The bleach blond vampire wiped his hands dry on a paper towel, tossing it in a nearby bin before swooping his daughter in his arms. “How's my li'l Emmie?”

“Disillusioned by the duck again,” the loose-skinned demon commented.

“Tell ya what,” Spike said, kissing the girl on the forehead, “sprout some teeth an' I'll get ya a bit a' peking.”

Dawn perked up. “Chinese?”

Spike glanced at her. “Again? Don' you want to eat some vegetables or something?”

The teenager wrinkled her nose. “What kind of question is that?”

The vampire rolled his eyes and tossed her the phone. “Won' the witches be expectin' you soon?”

“Nah, I told them I was babysitting again,” Dawn said, dialing a number she already knew by heart. She shrugged. “It's pretty much true.” She glanced at him. “You really should tell them all, though.”

Spike huffed. “Again: no, thanks. Would rather not have Watcher look at this little sweet pea like a petri dish and who knows what the witches'll try to do?” He shuddered and shook his head. “Might turn her into a frog or worse, find out how to magickally lactate and start breastfeedin' 'er.”

Dawn made a face. “I really doubt--”

Spike shook his head so fast the teenager was surprised his neck didn't snap. “No.”

“I think it'd really make them happy,” the brunette said, her voice small.

The vampire sighed. “Lemme think about it some more, okay?” His nose twitched when he smelled Margaret going in her diaper. “I really do think you save all the dirty nappies for me,” he mumbled.

“I'll change her!” Dawn cried, reaching out her arms.

Spike handed over the baby. “Don' think she's done goin' but have at it,” he said, picking up the plastic bag he'd left by the door. He retrieved from it three canisters of formula and sat them on a kitchen shelf, then took a package of diapers and tossed it over by Dawn.

By the time Margaret was cleaned up and put to sleep, Spike was sitting at the dining room table, staring unseeingly at Dawn as she slurped her chicken lo mein.

“Spike?” Dawn asked, swallowing her mouthful of noodles. “What's up? You're creeping me out.”

He crossed his arms. “Anythin' goin' on Saturday?”

“I was gonna be at Janice's for the weekend...” Dawn trailed off, starting to sound put out.

Spike's nostrils flared as he huffed. “So you wouldn' 'ave time to arrange a small Scooby meetin' sometime in the evenin'?”

Dawn's eyes lit up. “We're gonna--?”

He couldn't help but smile at her excitement. “Yeah,” he said softly.

Dawn nearly knocked over her seat as she got out of it. “I'll tell them to keep that evening open right now!”

Spike shot her a stern glance. “'Bit. Don' you go runnin' out on me. I'll take you back, okay?”

The younger Summers girl was too worked up to be annoyed at his persistent overprotectiveness. She beamed at him. “Okay.”

Spike was pacing a hole in the floor in front of the television, causing Clem to lean left and right every time he blocked the screen. Margaret seemed amused by his reaction, giggling and attempting to reach for his floppy ear.

“Maybe I should jus' cancel it,” Spike growled.

“Nah, man,” Clem said. “And will you stop pacing in front of the TV? Em and I are trying to watch the game!”

“What if they do somethin' to 'er?”

Clem raised his eyebrows. “You worried about the witches? If it makes you feel better, take precautions and do a protection spell.” He looked at the baby sitting on his lap, watching her father pace back and forth. “But she's the Slayer's girl. When that comes out of your mouth, I'm pretty sure the first thing they'll wanna do is protect her all they can.”

“Yeah--from me, maybe,” Spike snapped. He shrugged on his jacket. “M'gonna get working on that spell.” He leaned over to kiss Margaret on the cheek. “Be good for ol' Clem, baby.” He snickered when she let out a wet one. “That's all you, chum,” he said, going for the door.

Clem wrinkled his already wrinkled nose and held her at arm's length, standing up to look for a diaper.

~~

“What do you think Spike wants to talk about tomorrow?” Willow asked, worrying her lip. “Do you think he knows?”

Tara put her hand on her girlfriend's. “He seems kind of distracted lately so I don't think so, honey. B-But you don't think... You don't think it might be better if we--”

Willow shook her head fiercely. “No. A big no. I just don't think it'd benefit us.” She glanced at her girlfriend, her eyes narrowed. “He's up to something. I think we should figure it out.”

“Figure what out?”

Willow nearly jumped a mile in the air when Spike seemingly appeared out of nowhere. “U-Uh--”

“Willow thinks you're scheming something and wants to use magic to figure it out,” Anya deadpanned. “Are you buying something?” she asked, oblivious of the look the redhead was giving her that could possibly turn her into a newt.

Spike kept his gaze trained on Willow. “Ingredients for a protection spell, actually.”

“Protection from what?” the redhead asked, narrowing her eyes further.

The bleach blond retrained his gaze on the former vengeance demon. “This safe on children?” he asked quietly.

“Yes. Will that be all?” Anya replied, exchanging a prepared packet for the cash he handed her.

He nodded. “Thanks, luv.”

When Spike walked out, Anya hurried over to the table to join the couple. “Now I'm feeling nosy, too.”

“Great, now I feel all anxious,” Willow muttered, blowing a strand of her hair out of her face. “Maybe we should follow him.”

“Dawn said he had something to discuss with us tomorrow night, and she seemed really happy,” Tara said cautiously. “Happier than she's been since...” She pursed her lips. “I think we should give him the benefit of the doubt. I-It's not like he came in here preparing for a hex.”

Willow gave a thoughtful look, nodding. “Yeah. Poor Dawnie... But things will be better soon.” She glanced at Anya. “Were you able to find any of the difficult ingredients?”

The ex-demon shook her head. “I'm still browsing. It's hard searching for something on the 'net especially when you don't know if the person on the other end is trustworthy. But I've got my own sources who can check on the authenticity of the seller.”

“Great. Thanks for being so careful,” Willow said with a nod.

Anya shrugged. “It comes with age, I guess. Plus you're making me spend perfectly good currency on something that isn't tangible until it's shipped.”

Tara glanced at her watch. “I promised Dawnie I would bake her some chocolate chip cookies before she got home. Do you want to come with, honey?”

Willow shook her head. “I think I'm gonna do some more research.” She looked at her hopefully. “Save me some?”

Tara gave her an affectionate smile. “Of course.” She shouldered her messenger bag, checking for her keys and wallet before making her way to the market and returning to Revello Drive. When she got to the house, she was surprised to find a stroller sitting on the front porch. “Dawnie?” she called out, peering around the first floor.

Dawn flinched from her spot on the living room couch. “Oh! Hey, Tara! Y-You scared me there.”

“Whose stroller is that?” she asked.

“Nobody's,” Dawn said too quickly. “I mean, nobody that you guys would know. It's the kid that I babysit.”

Tara sensed her nervousness and smiled kindly, mollifying her. “Are you watching her here at the house?”

“I will be tomorrow,” the teenager replied, worrying her bottom lip. “Th-the dad just wanted to drop some stuff off to make sure everything is here.”

“Oh, is that why you wanted to have everyone gather at the house instead of The Magic Box?”

Dawn nodded. “You got it,” she said with a nervous laugh.

“I just saw Spike there. He was getting ingredients for a protection spell.”

“Yeah, that's actually for me,” Dawn said cautiously. “I just wanted to make sure the baby was okay staying here for the night.”

The blonde smiled. “That was nice of him.” She paused. “Dawnie, are you sure you're okay?”

Dawn nodded again. “Yeah... Yeah. And he's been super nice lately... Ever since Buffy passed away. A-And even before that. Do you think anybody's noticed?”

Tara's smile widened. “Yeah. I have. I-It's good to have him on our side.” She lifted up the grocery bag she was holding. “I thought you'd still be at Janice's so I was going to start on your cookies. You up for making 'em with me?”

Dawn grinned, a hopeful look on her face. “Can I lick the spoon?”

~~

“Mmmmm!” Margaret hummed, guzzling down her bottle.

“You eat a lot for such a tiny person,” Spike murmured, stroking the soft wisps of baby hair on her forehead. He swallowed. “I love you, Margaret.” He averted his gaze. “I hope I'm not making a mistake.”

Spike jumped when the phone rang. He got up to answer it, shouldering the phone with the baby and the bottle in his other arm. “'lo?”

“Hey, Spike,” Tara greeted him cheerfully on the other line. “I talked to Dawn. It's really nice of you that you're doing a protection spell for the girl she's babysitting. Do you need help with it?”

If Spike were still alive, he reckoned his heart would be trying to jump out of his throat. He cleared it. “Hey, Glinda.” He glanced at the small girl in his arms, knowing he could trust Tara with this. “Yeah. Yeah... That'd be great. I'm at Clem's, if you could swing by later? I'll give you the address.”

“I'm free now,” Tara said. “I-If you want.”

“Yeah,” he said softly. “Got a pen? I'll give you the house number.”

When Tara came, Spike was relieved that Margaret had fallen asleep. She was tucked away in Clem's guest room, where he'd taken to staying the past couple weeks since he'd found his daughter left on his bed the night Buffy had jumped. He didn't quite know how he was going to explain himself to Glinda if she'd been awake for the spell. It wasn't that he didn't trust the girl, but lately he had been feeling rather iffy about her girlfriend.

“Thanks for helping,” Spike said gratefully. “See you tomorrow night.”

Tara gave a shaky smile as she went for the door. “I can't say I'm not apprehensive about this meeting tomorrow, but I... I trust you. Goodnight, Spike.”

Feeling more protective than normal, Spike scooped Margaret out of her bassinet and lied down in the twin guest bed, settling his daughter on his chest. She stirred and he gently patted her back, the rhythm putting both of them to sleep.

When the sun rose up, Spike didn't know what to do with himself until the evening. He gave Margaret a bath, had tummy time with her along with Clem, and watched the Red Wings hockey game that the loose-skinned demon had DVR'd while the little one took a nap.

Close to sundown he was antsy, pacing the small apartment with Margaret in his arms. She giggled and cooed against his shoulder, liking the fun game as she bounced in her father's arms. Spike realized he was brooding and decided to join in the fun, spinning in place and watching his daughter smile and laugh.

“Your mum would love you,” Spike said softly. “Spitting image, you are. Dark brown hair like she used to have back in high school, cute button nose...” He swallowed. “Margaret, f'not for you, I don' know where I'd be. It's still hard to think about your mum, and when I sleep, I... I dream about 'er. Every night I see her jumpi...” He stopped. “I don' want you to have bad memories of your mum. Only good ones. I'll tell you everything about her, your mum, in only a positive light. 'Cause... luv, your mum, she positively was the brightest light in my... my unlife.”

Spike's back went ramrod straight when he heard a knock on the door. He opened it and found Dawn at his doorstep and grinned at her, enveloping the teenager in a big embrace with his free arm.

Dawn grinned back. “Thought you might like some moral support.”

The vampire snorted. “Me and morals in the same sentence. Wha' a joke.”

Dawn elbowed him lightly in the ribs. “Sometimes I think you might be the only one with those in this group.”

Spike smiled gently. “Ironic, that.”

The teen grabbed Margaret's diaper bag and slung it over her shoulder. “Okay. No more stalling. Let's go. And the stroller is at the house just in case we need to jet.”

“Thanks, Bit,” he said, his voice wavering.

Dawn led the way to the DeSoto, and Spike unlocked the door and put Margaret in her baby seat before joining the teenager in the front. He took his time driving the short way to Revello Drive, finding comfort in the hum and growl of his black beauty. He took in an unnecessary breath as he pulled into the drive port, blatantly ignoring the surrounding cars of the Watcher and Xander on the curb.

Dawn seemed to be clearing the way for him, easing his transition into the house as she helped unbuckle a curious-eyed Margaret from the backseat and shouldered the bag. Spike took Margaret from Dawn, both of them making their way to the front door.

The barrier had long been lifted, but Dawn wanted to make him feel as comfortable as possible. She smiled widely at him. “Come in, Spike.”

Spike entered the living room in a slow saunter, taking a deep breath and taking in everyone sitting on the couch or on the loveseat or standing, waiting for him to speak.

“Spike, I don't mean to steal your thunder but I have an important announcement after you have spoken to us--” Giles paused, seemingly unsettled as he noticed the small bundle in the vampire's arms.

“Everyone,” Spike said softly, “this is Margaret. I found 'er in my crypt the day Buffy jumped, along with this card...” He handed the pastel pink paper to Giles. He faced the Watcher head on. “When I entered my crypt that night, I swore I could smell her... Could smell the Slayer. As if she was right there with me. An' when I got downstairs to my bedroom, I found this little one waiting for me on the bed.”

Giles frowned, removing his glasses and bringing the small slip of paper closer to his face. “What are you getting at?” he asked impatiently.

“I have reason to believe that this little person... Well, she's Buffy's.” He paused. “And mine.”

Xander grew red in the face. “WHAT?!”

Margaret wailed in Spike's arms. Dawn rushed over to take her, gently rocking her in an attempt to calm her down.

Willow looked over Giles' shoulder as he continued to scrutinize the paper.

“'A gift,'” Giles read softly, “'for one who deserves.'” He robotically handed the paper over to the redheaded witch, seemingly in a trance as he stepped toward Dawn.

Margaret stopped crying to curiously observe her new onlooker.

“When Buffy jumped...” Giles whispered, in awe.

Behind him, Spike nodded though he could not see the gesture. “Yeh. She's almost five months now.”

Dawn smiled at Giles and outstretched her arms, inviting Giles to hold the baby.

“You knew...” Giles said to Dawn softly, not at all accusing. He turned to Spike. “Why didn't you tell us?”

Xander's face was nearly purple. “You believe him?!”

Giles shot the dark haired man a withering look. “Xander. Did you look at her face?” He carefully took Margaret into his arms, stepping cautiously closer to Buffy's friends, all of whom had varying degrees of shocked expressions on their faces.

Margaret woefully squirmed in the Watcher's arms, crying and reaching out for Spike.

“Shh,” Spike said softly, stepping forward to caress her tiny head. “S'alright, my love.”

“Her eyes,” Tara gasped. “She's absolutely yours. And Buffy's,” she murmured, doubt absent from her voice.

Xander swallowed. “This is wrong and disgusting. Who in the fuck gave you the opportunity to do something like this, you sick fuck? We're still grieving! And you-- Why the fuck would you--”

Anya quieted him with a look, gripping his arm in a firm hold.

“We shouldn't jump to any assumptions,” Tara said softly. “This is a child. She is a gift. I see her aura, and... She's so pure. Purest out of anyone here.” She turned to Willow, who looked lost and confused.

Giles looked at Spike and then the couch behind him. “May I...?”

Spike gave a quiet nod.

The graying Brit sat down with the daughter of his charge, resting her upright on his knee. He couldn't help but grin when she reached out for his glasses.

“Buffy had curly hair like hers,” Dawn said quietly. “One day Mom had it cut, maybe when she was three or four, and the curls just went away.” She glanced at Spike. “But your hair is naturally curly, isn't it?”

He nodded, and was quiet for a long while. “I was afraid,” Spike spoke up. He met the Watcher's eye when the man raised his head. “I was afraid she'd be met with anger and criticism and hate instead of love and adoration as a child should. Tha's why I waited so long. I don' know how she got here, or why, but... She IS a gift. A gift to us all, I think.” He couldn't help but crack a smile. “She's only four months but when it's tummy time – she used to hate it and scream – but one day I put a book in front o'her. Jus' picked one up from the dollar store. An' Clem or Dawn or I would jus' turn the pages and she'd just soak it all up and forget how uncomfortable being on her stomach is. She's got at least twenty of 'em now.” He looked into the eyes of Buffy's closest friends. “She loves to be held and spun in place. I could puke going in circles but f'it makes her laugh and smile, I'd do it forever. Righ' now she puts everything in her mouth. Not really teething yet, but I guess it's her way of feeling out for things. Books, toys, she tried chomping on the dining room table once... Everything but a bloody pacifier. Tried every one I could find and she'd jus' spit it out.”

He sighed. “I don' care if you don't believe me about who she is. But I consider her my own daughter, an' if any of you even think to put a hand or even think one bad thought about her, we're gone. M'takin' her with me, someplace safer where she can be loved and cherished, and not targeted for unwarranted hatred. I brought her here today because I am sure that you would all love her just as much as I do. She is as human as can be. F'you don' believe me, try changing one of 'er dirty nappies.” He gave a small smirk.

He glanced at Dawn. “If it's alright with you, Bit, I'd like to show her photo albums of her mum and grandmum as she gets older. I want her to know how wonderful her mother was, as a person and as a champion. I don' want to hide anything from her. At all.”

Dawn nodded enthusiastically. “Of course.”

“S'gettin' late for her,” Spike said softly to the Watcher. “Should put her to bed.”

Giles nodded and transferred her into her father's arms. Spike took her upstairs.

As he disappeared into Buffy's room, everyone's shock seemed to fade. Willow and Xander sank down into the sofa.

“What are you thinking?” Xander asked quietly.

Willow shook her head, her eyes locked on a spot on the top of the stairs. But as much as she wanted to, she wouldn't dare voice her thoughts.

If she for some reason couldn't summon a fawn for the resurrection, the child would more than do.

“He's demented!”

Willow looked across Xander's dining room table into her best friend's red face.

“First he orders some Buffybot sex slave and now he's creating magickal babies!” Xander hollered. “He's demented and depraved and...and...a pervert!”

Tara nervously looked from the dark haired man's face to that of her confused lover's. “W-Wait--”

Willow came to a conclusion. “Why else would he have needed a protection spell tonight?” she asked softly. “I think he's hiding something.” She frowned. “Oh, and poor Dawnie! To get her involved in all this!” she cried. “There must be a way to reverse a protection spell.” She glanced at Tara. “With power as strong as ours together I don't think it will be so feat-y.”

The blonde haired girl frowned at her girlfriend. “I-I think this is exactly why Spike enacted a protection spell.” She took a deep, shuddering breath and slowly blew it out. “I helped him,” she admitted, her voice small.

“What?!” Xander shrieked.

“Baby, you have to lift it!” Willow cried.

“W-Why?” Tara begged. “Willow, whether she was produced magickally or not, she's still a baby. You couldn't have missed her aura. There was nothing dangerous about her. She's just a child!” She shook. “And I saw that l-look on your f-face back at the house, Willow.” She bit her bottom lip. “I-It scared me.”

“Baby, please lift it. At least let's check if she's really Buffy's.”

Despite her timidity, Tara was resolute. “W-We could always go to a doctor for a DNA test.”

“Yeah, bringing a baby over to a doctor's office when the thing has no real registration that she actually exists!” Xander yelled. “Immunizations, social security, a piece of paper that says she was actually birthed...”

Anya had been uncharacteristically quiet until now. “What if Spike took care of all of that?” She shrugged at Xander and Willow's skeptical faces. “Instead of driving ourselves crazy I think the easiest thing to do is ask.”

“Sh-She's right,” Tara said, sitting straighter. “Spike came to us tonight in confidence. He invited everyone, including Giles. I-I don't think this is some ploy or him being m-manipulative. I think he required our trust in this.”

Willow still looked devastated. “But baby, why did you help him?”

Her girlfriend shook her head. “I helped before I knew about Margaret. Dawn told me last night that she was babysitting at the house and she wanted to make sure that the baby was safe. I put two and two together when Spike came in to the Magic Box looking for a protection spell and thought he was just helping Dawnie.” She stared at Willow. “And honey, you know I love you, but that look in your eye tonight... I just hope y-you aren't th-thinking of bringing the girl harm.” Tara pursed her lips. “Sh-She's a baby, Willow. She might have been cr-created out of s-supernatural forces, but she still has a clean slate. She's innocent.”

Willow didn't look too sure, and that scared her.

“I-It's late,” Tara said softly. “I'm going to go.”

The redhead looked alarmed. “We're going back to the house together, aren't we?”

“I'm going to stay at the dorm,” Tara said. “If you c-can't give me a straight answer about how you feel about this baby, whether it's your b-best friend Buffy's or not, I-I don't think I can be around you right now.”

Anya stood. “I'll drive you.”

Xander shot his girlfriend a withering look. “Ahn?”

“Be back later, Xander,” she said briskly, pocketing the car keys and heading for the door with Tara.

Outside in Xander's 4x4, Tara and Anya were sitting in a tense silence. They hadn't left the driveway yet. Tara was staring at her lap and Anya was fiddling with the keys.

“I-I'd always wanted children,” Anya admitted, staring at the steering wheel.

Tara looked at her, eyes wide.

“I thought that with Xander I'd have that opportunity. But with the way he's acting, condemning a tiny human baby...” She gave Tara an ironic look, chuckling dryly. “And I'm the ex-demon.”

“I-I need to protect them,” Tara whispered. “A-And I think myself.”

Anya knew exactly who she spoke of. “Magic Box?”

The blonde nodded jerkily. “Yes, please.”

Tara was exhausted after blanketing a protection spell on herself, Anya, Dawn, and Spike. They weren't sure yet where Giles stood. Tara wanted to speak with him before jumping to any conclusions, and Anya wanted to try to convince Xander that Willow was thinking irrationally.

Feeling safer after casting the protection spell, Tara had Anya drive her back onto Revello Drive. The tableau she walked into filled her with awe.

On the couch, Spike was sound asleep beside Dawn, who was resting her head on his shoulder. Giles was holding baby Margaret in his arms, feeding her a bottle.

“Mmm mm mmm mmm,” Margaret hummed happily, patting the bottle Giles was holding to her mouth.

“Hi,” Tara said, smiling.

Giles smiled back at her. “Hello.”

“Sh-She's a spitting image of Buffy, isn't she?” she murmured softly.

The Watcher nodded. “Indeed she is.”

She made a cautious step forward. “D-Did you ever have any doubt?”

His faced pulled down into a frown. “I did.”

“But...?” she whispered.

“Then I realized that we are on the Hellmouth, and a baby being created from a fallen Slayer and a master vampire isn't so far fetched,” he said, averting his gaze. “Whether she was born for prophetic reasons or not, she... She is somewhat of a miracle.” He turned his head to the pair sleeping on the couch. “Perhaps we should get Dawn into bed already.” Giles glanced at his wristwatch. “It's a half hour past eleven.”

Tara knelt in front of the teenager, gently shaking her shoulder. Dawn stirred, opening her eyes. “Want to head upstairs, Dawnie?”

The dark haired girl took a deep breath and looked up at the sleeping vampire beside her. She nodded, her eyes still glassy with sleep as she stood and made her way upstairs.

Tara put her hand on Spike's shoulder. “Spike,” she called out.

He blinked himself awake and stood up. “Wha'?”

“You staying here tonight? I don't know where you want to put Margaret.”

He nodded. “I think I'll just go home. Don' want to be stuck here when the calvary shows up, and the bloody sun.”

Giles gently putting the now-sleeping Margaret in the vampire's waiting arms.

“Did she wake?” Spike asked, rubbing his face.

The Watcher nodded. “I fixed her some formula. She drank about four ounces before falling asleep again.”

The vampire raised his eyebrows. “You're adept at this. You ever 'ad kids?”

Giles shook his head, smiling sadly. “No. Just adept at reading measurements and following directions.”

Spike grinned. “I 'ave a babysitter, then?”

The other Brit laughed. “I was... I actually had an announcement tonight. I was going to leave for England to do a bit of...”

“Brooding?” Spike deadpanned.

Giles carded his fingers through his hair. He nodded. “I think... I do believe I'll stay.”

“I'm sorry to interrupt the warm feelings,” Tara interjected, wringing her hands, “but Willow wants a DNA test.”

A muscle in Spike's jaw ticked. “Thought that'd happen.” He looked at Giles. “Was prepared to hear it from you, though.” He walked to a messenger bag sitting by the couch, taking a leaf of paper from it. “This is a copy. Tell 'er to feast 'er eyes. S'just mine. Don' quite know how she'll retrieve the Slayer's. Pretty sure Dawn's will be a close match. Ask the 'Bit. M'sure she'll be happy to oblige.”

“I believe you,” Tara said softly.

“Thank you,” Spike murmured earnestly.

“Do you doubt Spike is the father?” Anya asked, wiping down the glass counter.

“I don't know,” Giles admitted with a shrug. “The blue eyes are a physical give away, and then there are the DNA results. But the fact that he's taken care of this child for almost five months, the way she reaches out to him in times of stress... There is no doubt that he has played a fatherly role. I think at this age an infant would show discomfort and even distrust to a person who has never held him or her before. There's much evidence that Margaret finds comfort in Spike.”

Xander nearly choked on his cruller. “You're actually giving Captain Peroxide the benefit of the doubt? What would Buffy think if she knew something like this was going on, right in her territory? Don't you think she'd be disgusted?”

The Watcher shook his head. “I cannot even begin to imagine how Buffy would feel about all of this. But she's not here, and Margaret is. Whether this was Spike's doing -- which I doubt – or any other assumption we can think of, she is still just a child. Just as a child may be conceived from a tryst, a loveless marriage, or even rape, that child is just a child. I do hope that each and every one of you remind yourselves of that.” A dark look came over his features, and he looked directly at Willow, and then glanced at Xander. “Any harm done to this baby and I will take necessary measures.”

“Whoa, Giles,” the dark haired man cut in, raising his hands in the air. He was indiscreet as he exchanged worried looks with Willow. “Sounding a little possessed there, or I dunno, maybe enthralled?”

Anya slammed her bottle of bleach on the counter. “He's acting like a fucking human being, Xander! Maybe you should try it!”

A tense silence blanketed the group. Anya's hands shook as she knelt on the floor to pick up the fallen spray bottle.

“Things have been uneasy lately, ever since...” Willow shook her head. “Why don't I do a spell? Something that'll clear the air?”

Giles froze. “Willow--”

“Tara and I did a protection spell. You can't do anything to harm us,” the ex-demon deadpanned.

Willow's eyes grew wide. “Tara?”

Tara swallowed, nodding sharply. “I-It's true. You haven't been very rational lately, Willow. We can st-still figure out disagreements without magick. P-Please don't lose sense of yourself.”

Xander stood, nearly knocking over his chair. “You guys are all acting insane!”

“Didn't every one of us act the same way when Dawn was dropped into our lives---when the facade had been lifted?” Giles asked quietly. “Children, get a hold of yourselves. Go home. Stop over-thinking and we will deal with things properly and in due time.”

“I'm going to stay here and count the money,” Anya announced. “It makes me feel better. The store is closed. Everyone else can get out.”

“Ahn--” Xander begged.

She shot him a withering look. “Xander, it hurts to even look at you right now. Have you ever thought that maybe one day we would have children of our own? This is the daughter of your best friend, may she rest peacefully wherever she might be! Do you block it out of your mind everyday who you're engaged to?”

Willow's mouth dropped. “Engaged?”

Anya dropped her head in her hands. “Well, shit.”

“We were going to wait until things calmed down a little,” Xander said quietly.

“Which I found illogical, because we live on a hellmouth and things don't ever just calm down--” Anya ranted.

Xander's face twisted into a grimace. “That's not what I meant, Anya. Buffy died—”

“Almost five months ago! I get it! We're all grieving. But did you ever wonder about how every single thought that passes through your head starts and ends with her? Buffy this and Buffy that! What would Buffy think? Well you know what, she can't give her honest, valued opinion—because she's gone! I can't even compete with a ghost even when I try to make clear my morals, especially about this child! And yes, Xander, I do have morals, despite being an ex-vengeance demon. Not everything is so black and white.” She took a deep breath and huffed. “Don't even say anything. I am so angry with you. It doesn't help that I'm practically thousands of years old but this human body decides for me that it will release icky hormones that make me yell at you and make me leak out my life force and be even more sensitive to your stupid humanity!”

Xander slumped, a pained look on his face.

“Let's go, Xan,” Willow said softly as everyone began to file out of the store and go in separate directions, aside from Anya who stomped her way down into the basement. “Espresso Pump?”

A crestfallen look had settled on his features. “Whatever. Sure,” he sighed.

“Don't worry,” Willow said softly. “I'm sure when we get around to getting Buffy back, she'll be on our side on all of this. Just stinks that we're going to have to bring her back from a hell dimension and toss her into all of this mess.”

Xander sounded as if he'd given up. “You weren't really thinking of using Margaret for the ritual, were you?”

Willow gave him a guilty look. “I did. I... It wasn't right.” She pursed her lips. “I guess I'm just projecting. I'm getting all kinds of heebie jeebies about all of this. And with the way Dawn and Spike and now Giles, Anya, and even Tara are going to such lengths to protect this baby... There's something ominous about all that. I thought Giles would be the last person to even consider it.”

“What if he's doing all of this out of grief?” Xander asked. “However you look at it, we've got... Well, we've got a mini Buffy around. You saw how paternal he was being with her.”

Willow nodded. “Dawn, too. I think it's kind of unhealthy.”

Xander let loose a few tears, wiping them with the back of his hand. “What Anya said... I do do that a lot of the time, you know.”

Willow looked at him. “What?”

“Pretty much deny that for over a thousand years longer than she's been human she was a vengeance demon.” His face crumpled. “God, I feel like I'm one of those bible-thumpers. There's just . . . Something that was ingrained in me when we were introduced to Buffy's calling that right is right and wrong is wrong. Vamp bad, human good. Spell-casted beer bad, bear claws good.”

“I know what you mean,” Willow said softly. “But I still can't help thinking something is really wrong. I gotta figure out a way to have Tara lift the protection spells. It might be for our own good that we identify just where Margaret came from and whether or not she's actually a threat.”

Xander nodded. “Whatever you've got planned, consider me enlisted.” They'd arrived in front of the Espresso Pump. “I think I should go home and grovel.”

Willow's bottom lip quivered. “Me, too.”

~~

It was late in the evening when the phone rang. Willow and Tara had had a tense conversation a couple hours beforehand and were now lying as far as physically possible as they could in Joyce's old queen sized bed. Willow sat up and took the receiver from its cradle.

“Hello?” she asked softly.

“Hi,” Anya said on the other line. “I received the last Urn of Osiris in the mail.”

“Wow,” Willow breathed, feeling a little lightheaded from nerves. “Okay. Let's have a Scooby meeting tomorrow at the Magic Box. We'll have to try to keep Giles out of the store. We should have everything now.”

“What about the vino de madre?” Anya asked.

“I've taken care of it,” she said softly.

“Alright. Eight after closing?”

“Sounds good,” Willow said, hanging up the phone. She glanced at Tara, who looked back at her. She longed to reach out and touch her. “Anya got the last thing we've needed for the spell.”

Tara nodded silently, turning on her side and closing her eyes.

Willow sighed, fingering the Lethe's Bramble she'd had sitting in her palm. She'd bought it with high hopes that it would ease the tension between herself and her lover until she realized that Tara had performed a collective protection spell. It made her feel insecure, helpless, and angry--more so than she had back in high school when she hadn't totally made a reputation for herself as a powerful witch.

Willow sighed and closed her eyes. The least she could do was use her powers to benefit herself, and not at all with any accompanying bad karma. She'd put some agrimony leaves in a sachet under her pillow to promote restful sleep. She wanted to be sure that she was well rested and clear headed for tomorrow evening's meeting.

~~

“Watcher, I was gonna do a quick patrol around Restfield if you could bring Dawn and Margaret over to Revello for a few,” Spike piped up from his perch on a ladder in The Magic Box.

“Of course,” Giles said, offering a polite smile.

The vampire lifted his lips into one of his own. “Thanks. Dawn wanted to spend time with Em at the house. She'll be picking 'er up from Clem's shortly and bringin' 'er here.”

“Clem?” Giles asked curiously.

“Ah,” Spike muttered, shifting uncomfortably, “he's a loose-skinned demon named Clement. Doesn' mean no harm. Watches Margaret while I'm asleep during the day. Been there for us ever since the stork dropped 'er in.” He shrugged his duster on, giving a little wave as he headed for the door. “Thanks again, Rupes.”

Dawn arrived a little after sundown, pushing a stroller. She smiled at Giles. “Hey! Hope you don't mind if we get going now. I have tons of homework and I want to finish it all so I can play with Margarine.”

Giles raised his eyebrows. “Margarine?”

She grinned, nodding. “I like to call her that. She likes it.”

Giles smiled and removed the baby seat from the stroller and buckled Margaret into his backseat. He smiled when she reached for his glasses. Dawn got into the front seat, placing her backpack and the baby's diaper bag on the floor.

When they got to the house, Dawn rushed upstairs while Giles kept Margaret company in the living room. He'd found her small collection of board books in the diaper bag.

Margaret watched in curiosity, cooing. Giles turned his head and smiled. “Any of these your favorite?” he asked.

She reached out her tiny fingers, and Giles came to her on the couch, unstrapping her from her seat. Books in hand, he sat her on his lap, watching as she grabbed for the Fuzzy Baby Animals book.

Giles frowned as he turned the pages for her. “This is preposterous. Ducks don't have fur.”

Margaret giggled, fisting the patch of fur on the page.

They'd gone through all of the books nearly thrice when a knock sounded on the door. Giles cradled Margaret to his shoulder, a swell of affection filling him when she laid her head on his shoulder. He stood, looking through the peephole.

“Hey,” Willow said as he opened the door.

“Willow,” Giles said, surprised, “I'm surprised you're home so late.”

“I-I've actually been studying for a quiz. Things have been really distracting lately so I haven't been my usual studious self,” the redhead said, staring at the baby strangely. She paused. “She really does look like Buffy,” she murmured.

Giles nodded, smiling. “Indeed she does,” he agreed. “Except I think she may have more of an interest in books than my charge did.” He chuckled.

Willow gave a shaky smile. “I'm just getting some study materials from upstairs. I-I'll be right back.”

Giles closed the front door and retook his seat on the couch. Margaret yawned in the crook of his arm.

The redhead returned downstairs with a camel-colored messenger bag. At the foot of the stairs, she made a sudden stop.

Giles looked up, raising his eyebrows. “Forget something?”

Willow's eyes went black. “In frigore!” she commanded.

Time went to a slow crawl, except for Willow, who hurried to the Watcher on the couch. She knelt in front of him and the baby, removing a syringe and glass vial from her purse.

“This isn't magic, so hopefully this means she won't need protecting,” Willow said softly, shakily as she wrapped one of her scarves tightly around the child's wrist. She located a bulging vein close to her thumb, quickly inserting the syringe and slowly pulling blood into the plunger. She took a deep breath as she removed the needle, tying the scarf tightly around the wound to stop the bleeding before she deposited the blood into the vial.

“Sana,” she whispered, Margaret's wrist glowing gold. She tucked a twig of Lethe's Bramble under Giles' couch cushion before backing away to the door. “Eximo!” she cried, restoring time to its normal pace.

Giles shook his head, disoriented. “Willow?”

“Yes?” she whispered fearfully.

“Did you find everything you needed?”

She nodded, swallowing hard. “I did. See you later, Giles.” She left quickly, slamming the door behind her.

Giles looked down at the sleeping Margaret, frowning when he saw the scarf around her wrist.

~~

Willow arrived at the Magic Box, still trembling from her transgression.

“Hey,” Tara said gently. “D-Did you find the vino de madre in the bedroom?”

She nodded. “Yep, we're all good. I left it in the closet for safekeeping but I'd forgotten where. Just took a simple locating spell,” she said, trying to sound as perky as possible.

Xander crossed his arms, his hands noticeably shaking. “So when are we doing this?”

Willow blew out a shaky breath. “Next full moon.” She lowered her eyes. “Next Tuesday.”

--

Writer's notes: Buffy makes her first appearance next chapter. Thanks for all your patience.

Willow's fingers shook as she poured Margaret's blood into the Urn of Osiris. The black candles being held by Tara, Anya, and Xander in a makeshift circle suddenly grew dark.

“What's going on?” Xander demanded, his voice a near shriek.

“L-Light them again. Keep going,” Tara said quickly, relighting hers and passing Anya a book of matches.

“After this I'm never going to light candles ever again,” Anya growled, yelping when she burned her finger.

Despite their troubles, Willow pressed on obliviously, drawing a symbol on the cold, hard ground with the mixture she had prepared in the urn. “Osiris, keeper of the gate, master of all fate, hear us...” She dipped her finger into the urn again, this time wiping the blood on her forehead and cheeks. “Before time and after, before knowing and nothing. Accept our offering. Know our prayer!”

Everyone tensed, including Willow, as gaping wounds appeared on her arms. Xander looked ready to break the circle and come at Willow. He hurriedly put his candle down.

“Xander, no!” Tara cried.

“But she's--”

“She's being tested. Willow's strong. W-We have to let it happen. W-We can't break the circle!”

Tears streamed down the redhead's cheeks as vibrating lumps appeared, undulating under her skin. They crawled toward her open orifices, and she gritted her teeth and resisted the urge to scream. “Osiris!” she cried through gritted teeth, the muscles in her neck bulging as she fought for control, “Here lies the warrior of the people!”

They stopped, only to collectively rush toward her chest and neck. “Osiris! Let... Her... Cross over!”

Willow held her throat, gagging and choking. She bent her head and dry heaved as a large snake slithered its way up her throat and out of her mouth. Tara screamed. Xander and Anya were frozen in horror. The snake dropped to the floor and Willow took in a breath before crying, one last time, “OSIRIS! LET HER CROSS OVER!”

Suddenly, a bright light appeared above their heads, followed by a deafening rumble. Anya dropped her candle to throw herself at Willow, oblivious to the motorcycle coming down upon them.

“Oh God,” Xander gasped. “It's ruined. Fuck.”

“We gotta get Willow out of here,” Tara screamed, her voice cracking. “She's too weak!”

In a darker corner, a figure watched as the four dragged themselves from the ever mounting danger. Another motorcycle roared over their makeshift circle, shattering the urn.

“Alright, Buffy-dear,” Whistler sighed, slinging a couple of shovels over his shoulder. He started his short walk to Restfield, where their dearly departed was buried.

~~

Margaret wouldn't stop crying. It seemed something was causing her physical pain for the past two hours, and she'd been screaming so much that she was red in the face.

“I don' know wha's wrong,” Spike said helplessly. “She's never done this before.”

“Maybe the poor little bug is teething,” Clem said, sounding sympathetic. “I remember when I started to get my teeth. It was pretty tortuous.”

Spike went to the sink to wash his hands. He dried them before taking Margaret up into his arms, wiggling his little finger between her lips. She calmed, tears still slipping down her cheeks. Spike smiled as she began to gnash her gums against his finger.

“Looks like my li'l girl is gettin' ready for that peking duck,” he said with a grin.

“Mmmm mmm mmmm,” Margaret hummed around her father's finger, lifting her free hand to stroke her own ear.

“She's pretty good at this self-comforting thing, huh?” Clem remarked, raising his eyebrows.

Spike grinned excitedly. “Yeh. Been teaching her some signs, too. Dawn showed me on this website she and her mates used during some psychology project. Look-see.” He smiled down at Margaret, squeezing his fingers into a fist. “Does Emmie want milk? Milk, baby?”

Clem grinned when she closed her fist just as Spike did before getting a prepared bottle from the fridge. “She might probably like this since it's cold.”

Margaret suckled at the bottle, humming happily.

“Tryin' to teach her 'dad',” Spike murmured. “An' 'uncle'.”

Clem froze. “For the Watcher?”

Spike snorted. “No. For you, mate. You've been here ever since...” He glanced at him, then quickly averted his gaze. “Thanks, man.”

Clem smiled. “Don't mention it.”

“I gotta patrol. I won' be long,” the vampire murmured. He kissed Margaret on the head, smiling sadly when she reached for him. “I'll be back, sweet pea. Duty calls. You stay with Uncle Clement now.”

Margaret began to sniffle, attempting to sit up on the couch. Spike stared, amazed, as she managed to get up for a whole second before sliding onto her side.

“Sweetheart,” he cooed, picking her up. He turned to Clem, a wide grin on his face. “You see 'at, mate? She sat up!” He rained kisses all over her face. “F'only your mum could see you now, beautiful. She'd be so proud.” He looked out the window, then back at her daughter sadly. “I really have to go now, though, princess. I won' be but an hour.” His heart broke as he placed her in Clem's arms, watching her cry and reach for him.

Spike took a deep breath. “Be back soon,” he murmured, going out the door and not looking back.

On his walk over to the cemetery, Spike felt unsettled. The pit in his stomach grew uneasier still when he saw someone in the distance taking a shovel to a grave.

“Fuck. Wha's goin' on now?”

He growled, going at a full run when he realized where this bloke was digging. “Wha' th' fuck're you doing?” he hollered. “Stop! Stop!”

The man dropped the shovel, backing away with his hands raised in the air. “I need to get her out of there. I need to get her out of there before she suffocates.”

Spike's mind was whirling. “Wha' the fuck are you going on about?”

“Your friends,” the man spat. “They did a resurrection spell and didn't have the decency to help her out of her own grave. Now. Are you going to try to stop me or are you going to help?” he growled.

Spike couldn't believe the words that were coming out of this man's mouth. But his feet reacted while his mind was idle, and he caught a smaller shovel that the man grabbed from a nearby mausoleum and tossed to him.

“F'this is some sort of sick joke I'm goin' to tear your head from your neck,” Spike said, his voice shaking.

“Thanks for trusting me,” the other man said honestly, gasping when the shovel's head hit something solid. “Almost there.”

Then Spike heard it. Clawing from below. Without hesitation he jumped into the open grave. The man on top backed away as dirt flung from below. The vampire's mind was reeling as he stood precariously to one side of the pit and gripped the coffin's lid, throwing it open. He stared, shocked, as Buffy stared up at him, gasping, her fingernails broken from trying to break the lid open from inside. Dirt slid down the pit and rained down on her cheeks and lips.

“Buffy,” he moaned, tears escaping his eyes.

The Slayer took a shuddering breath before sobbing loudly.

When Spike chanced a look behind him to see if the man on the ground was still there, he was met with silence. His gaze returned to the Slayer as she squeaked and croaked, trying to speak.

“No. No, luv. You'll tear up your throat,” he whispered, easily plucking her from the grave. He had her cling to his back as he lifted them both out, then brought them to a water spout installed near the mausoleums. He turned the knob and the spigot groaned before spilling forth clean water. He let Buffy down and she crawled on her hands and knees to drink desperately. He watched the scene with watering eyes.

“How... Why...” Spike's chest was rising and falling, again, like when he'd found Margaret lying in the middle of his bed.

Buffy shivered, the front of her dress soaked.

He shook his head, knowing his questions would be useless to them both. “Let's get you someplace warm.”

She let him lift her again, her eyes unreadable and far away as he took them to Clem's at a full run.

Close to the apartment complex, Spike put her down on a bench before reaching into his pocket for a simple flip phone. “Jus' wait a minute there, luv,” he said, sitting beside her. He put the phone to his ear.

“Relax, Dad, she's asleep,” Clem deadpanned on the other line.

“Buffy's... Buffy's here,” Spike croaked, trying not to burst into tears.

There was a long silence. “What?” Clem asked, finally.

“Jus'... Please put Margaret in the guest room. She's not ready for that yet. They... They resurrected 'er, mate. M'comin' up in five.” Spike hung up the phone before immediately taking Buffy into his arms and bringing her in.

The bleach blond was silent as he took Buffy into Clem's place. Clem was just as quiet as he regarded the mute Slayer. The vampire busied himself with preparing hot water and clean rags, cleaning her nail-stripped fingertips and bloody knuckles. Buffy barely flinched.

“Fuck me,” Spike groaned. “I forgot to get you a clean shirt. I'll be right back, luv,” he said, rushing into the guest room. When he opened the door, light flooded into the room and into Margaret's uneasy features. Her face screwed up even more before she started hollering. “Shit! Shit. Emmie, not now...”

Clem rushed into the room, taking the baby into his arms and into his own bedroom as Spike chanced a grateful look to the loose-skinned demon and rifled through the drawers for a shirt.

When Clem turned around to get another bottle from the refrigerator, he stopped in his tracks to find the Slayer standing in the doorway, frowning at the child in his arms.

“What...” she croaked.

“Buffy?” Spike called down the short hall. He ran into Clem's room, gently taking her by the wrist. “S'too much. I'll explain later, luv. Come change into some clean clothes. Got a shirt and one of my boxers.” He led her to the small bathroom, watching the discomfort flit across her face as she regarded the tiny room. He took a shuddering breath. “Right. Let's go into the guest room. Don' mind the baby things.”

“Baby...” Buffy trailed off. She turned around, facing Clem's room. “The baby's still crying.”

Spike nodded. “I'll take care of it. Come on in an' change your clothes.” He felt like an (un)animated pinball as he rushed back into Clem's room as soon as Buffy made her way into the guest quarters. He plucked the whimpering Margaret from the demon's arms, smiling when she calmed in the presence of her father. “Gonna take care of the both of you,” he whispered.

Buffy reappeared in his shirt and boxers. Spike glanced up, swallowing hard.

“This... This is Margaret,” Spike said softly.

The Slayer's face was blank.

“We'll do full introductions later. Righ' now I'm sure you want to maybe sit down... Want some tea? Water?”

Buffy nodded quietly. “Water.” She bit her lip. “I'll... I'll get it.”

Spike glanced up only to watch her disappear into the small kitchen. He sat down with Margaret on the couch, placing his pinky into her mouth. He couldn't believe it when the Slayer sat down next to him, exuding warmth and humanity and... something that was not quite right.

Buffy sipped at her water, then put it down on the coffee table. What fingernails she did have were caked in dirt. “She? She's... She's pretty.”

Spike could only nod. “Gets it from 'er mum, she does,” he whispered. “Listen. I know you're already dealing with a lot. Bein' back and all. Not even an hour in, but. I figure things can't get worse, so... Introductions. Buffy, this is your... our daughter. S'a long story. Let me know when you're ready for it. I named her Margaret, after my--”

Buffy's answer was quiet, but shocking. She put her hand on his wrist. “I know.”

Spike gaped. “You... You know? Wha'?”

Her lip was split, and she wasn't that much paler than when he'd opened the coffin door. She parted her lips to take a sharp inhale of breath.

“M'bein' rude. Luv, drink some water. Relax. Tell me everythin' later. You went through just about everythin' tonight. M'sorry m'not as attentive as I should be. Your li'l one is a bit of a showstopper jus' like you are.”

Buffy was silent, but she continued to raise the cup of water to her lips.

Spike put Margaret down to bed before heating up Dawn's leftover Chinese for Buffy. He put it in front of her and she picked at it. He couldn't stop staring at her hands.

“Do you want wraps for these?” he asked softly, taking her small hand in his.

She shook her head. “What... Why am I here?” She flinched when the television came blaring on in Clem's room.

Spike stood, dimming the lights and closing Clem's door in attempt to make her comfortable. “I don' rightly know, pet. I was... I was patrolling when I saw someone diggin' at your grave. Don' know who he was, bu' he said that your friends had brought you back an' you were suffocatin' in your own coffin. Helped almos' mindlessly, I did. I really didn' wan' to believe it, especially with the way they'd lef...” He trailed off. She probably didn't want to be reminded just where they'd left her. If that man hadn't dug her out, she probably would've been more of a mess than she was now.

“How long?” she rasped.

Spike lowered his eyes. “One hundred forty-six. Well... One hundred forty-seven now, if t'day counts for anythin',” he whispered.

She'd grown quiet. Spike let her have her time of introvertedness, sitting on the couch with her for unspoken moral support. By the time the first rays of the sun were touching the horizon, he was nodding off. When he awoke a few hours later, he stood and looked in the guest room where Buffy was looking down into Margaret's crib.

“Five months now,” he said softly. “You... She... She turned five months a couple days ago.”

Buffy nodded. “I'm afraid to touch her.”

Spike stepped forward, into her personal space but careful not to touch her. Wanted her to know through his close presence that he was there for her but didn't mean to suffocate her. “Why?” he asked gently.

Buffy's eyes fell closed. “Every time I closed my eyes I could see her.” She reopened them. “And you. And Dawn. I thought maybe that was the way the dead dreamed. Happy images of the loved ones who'd survived them, never clarified as to whether they were real or...”

A warm feeling spread throughout his chest at her use of the word 'love'. He squashed it down immediately, knowing she was probably tired and unmindful of what was slipping from her lips.

“I only saw the three of you.” Buffy continued, her voice barely registering beyond a whisper. “Nothing about Giles or Willow or Xander.”

Spike snorted. “They're alive an' well, I assure you.”

She glanced at him, gently fingering Margaret's closed fist. The young girl opened it, closing her tiny fingers around Buffy's pointer. “And they...” She trailed off, staring at the child in front of her.

“Do they know?” Spike nodded. “Yeh. Just recently, actually. 'Bout a week ago.”

“And...”

“Warming up to the idea, I guess. Giles watches her an' Dawn for me on occasion. He said one time last week Willow had come home and given the li'l bit a scarf aroun' her wrist as a present or somethin', but didn' actually say anything 'bout it.” He shrugged. “Maybe a peace offerin'. I dunno.”

In the crib, Margaret began to stir.

“Go on,” Spike murmured, smiling at her. “Try mom on for size.”

Buffy reached out her scabbed hands. It seemed wrong to touch her, with her hands knowing such misery and death. She withdrew, holding her hands to her chest.

“Sorry,” Spike said softly. “I didn' mean t'push.”

Buffy shook her head.

Spike scratched the back of his head. “D'you want to go back home?”

The Slayer wrapped her arms around herself. “I don't even think I consider that my home anymore.”

The blond vampire raised his eyebrows.

“I...” She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, then turned to look at him. “I think I was in heaven.”

A dark look came over Spike's features. “I swear if I had this chip out I'd knock some sense into your so-called friends.”

Buffy's face was blank. “You mean you had no part in this?” There was no accusation in her words.

“No,” Spike said carefully. “If I'd've been made aware I think the only thing I'd be part of is a counterstrike to get 'em to stop the spell.” He clenched his fist, shaking as anger overtook him. “Luv... I'm sorry.”

She gave a slow nod. “Me, too.”

“Clem'll be getting up soon. M'gonna get s'more shuteye so I can patrol in the evenin'. You need me, jus' shake me awake. Leave me a note if you leave or somethin'... But, luv...”

She looked into his eyes.

“If you're feelin' bad, or wrong, or confused, or jus' need someone to talk to... Please... Please don' hesitate to wake me.”

She nodded, lowering her eyes. “Thank you,” she said, her voice soft.

~~

“I can' believe this,” Spike gasped, his eyes wide with shock and wonder.

He'd woken up only two minutes ago to find Margaret napping in her crib . . . And beside her with her back facing the open drop-side was the pale, gaunt figure of her mother, curled up around her.

Buffy awoke to gentle tugging on her hair. She opened her eyes to find herself staring straight into big blue eyes and a tiny mouth shiny with drool.

Margaret directed a fistful of Buffy's hair to her mouth.

She wrinkled her nose. “Don't think you wanna do that. Pretty sure I have dirt in there still.”

Margaret babbled her own response, putting a wet hand on Buffy's cheek.

She nodded sleepily. “Yeah, I could use another shower,” she yawned.

Spike's chuckle cut in from above her. “You comfortable in there, luv?”

Buffy jumped, her eyelids flying open. “Aside from dried up drool in my hair, a little, yeah,” she admitted, smiling shyly.

The vampire cleared his throat. “M'surprised you were, seein' as... uh...” He glanced at the crib and swallowed, noting how much smaller it was than...

“A little smaller than my coffin?” Buffy said bluntly. “Yeah. I know.”

He shifted, feeling awkward. “Did you, uh, want anythin' to munch on? Go anywhere?” His chest flooded with warmth when Margaret shuffled half on top of Buffy's chest and her first reaction was to put a gentle arm around her.

Buffy kept her eyes locked on the top of the baby's head. “Yes,” she said. “And no.”

“Dawn'll--”

Her head shot back up.

Spike gave her a sympathetic look. “Dawn usually visits everyday.”

Buffy took a deep breath and nodded. “Okay.”

“Did you-- Could I--”

She nodded again. “It'd probably be a good idea to give her a heads up... So she won't have a heart attack or anything, you know?” She paused, fingering Margaret's downy hair. “Does she know?”

“No,” Spike replied, shaking his head.

Margaret opened and closed her fist. Buffy frowned down at her, trying to figure it out.

“Milk,” Spike said. “I taught her the sign for milk.”

She looked from Margaret to Spike in awe.

He gave her a gentle smile. “Would you like to?”

Buffy nodded silently. Spike disappeared, reappearing seconds later with a small bottle.

“She likes to sit up. She'll usually finish the entire bottle,” Spike said, handing it to her.

Buffy sat up, taking Margaret with her and nestling her in her lap to lean her against her stomach. Margaret reached out for the bottle, making Buffy chortle as she directed the nipple to her open mouth. The infant hummed happily, patting her bottle.

“Does she crawl?” Buffy murmured.

He shook his head. “Not really. She'll wiggle a bit to get around but gets tired and frustrated after a while. She's getting there.” He watched the pair, happiness swelling inside of him. He stepped back, wanting to give them some privacy. “M'gonna call Dawn, okay?”

Buffy glanced up at him and nodded. “Alright. If she needs to talk to me, just hand me the phone.”

“Mmmm mmmm mmmmmm,” Margaret hummed joyfully.

Buffy's stomach grumbled. “Ah, hunger. You know I almost forgot about it?”

“Mmmmmm!” Margaret replied.

She nodded. “Yeah. Hard to believe.” She peered down at her as she suckled at the bottle. “Hard to believe you're mine also...” she said softly. “You probably kept your dad up a lot the past couple of months, huh? Guess I'll just have to make up for it. Strange to think that washing all that gross, stinky demon slime off me the past couple of years has probably prepared me for whatever disaster waits for me in that diaper...”

“Sometimes they can be worse,” Spike chuckled in the doorway.

Buffy looked up, blushing.

“The diapers, I mean.” Spike averted his gaze, looking shy. “An' you don' have to make up for anything, luv. I love that girl. Every second was bleedin' worth it. Clem's been very good at lookin' after her, too. You'll find that he is a very reliable babysitter. Your Watcher is becoming a close second.”

There was a peaceful look on the Slayer's face. “Giles? Really?”

He nodded. “Yeah.” He cleared his throat. “Breakfast is waitin' for you on the table whenever you're ready.”

“Did you reach Dawn?”

He shook his head. “Nah. S'ten in the morning. She's still in school.”

“I thought it was later,” Buffy commented, looking at the window behind her.

“Clem was nice enough to help me tint the windows,” the vampire replied. “S'just the stuff they use on cars. Pretty effective.”

She nodded. She glanced down to see Margaret suckling the last of the milk.

“She'll need a burpin'.” Spike opened up a drawer and handed her a cloth. “She might spit up some. She devours the milk so fast that sometimes her tiny tummy gets upset. S'normal, though.”

Buffy nodded, holding Margaret up with the cloth under her chin to gently pat her back. After burping, she lifted her into her arms and made her way into the small dining room that was connected to the living room. Waiting for her on the table was a bowl of oatmeal, a still steaming cup of coffee, and a peeled orange.

Spike shrugged. “Sorry. Don' have much human food here aside from formula.”

“Thanks,” Buffy murmured, sitting down.

Spike nodded.

“No. I mean... For everything. Thank you, Spike,” she said softly, her eyes trained on Margaret's head.

Spike shifted, shoving his hands in his pockets. He removed them and stepped closer to take Margaret so Buffy could eat. Margaret giggled upon seeing her father, patting his face and talking. “It was all happenstance, pet. Someone... Someone was digging up your grave and I was pissed.”

“Who was it?” Buffy asked, blowing on her coffee.

“Dunno. Didn' think to ask at the time. He was gone by the time I'd opened the lid. Had a bit of an accent. Maybe an Irishman.”

Buffy quickly finished her breakfast before turning around and holding out her arms. “Gimme.”

Spike laughed and handed over Margaret.

~~

“Goddess, I feel like a total failure,” Willow wept.

“Honey, it's not your fault,” Tara stressed. “Those biker demons were about to run us over.”

“I should've put a protection spell over our circle,” the redhead muttered, slumping against the headboard. “It's been hours. I'm sure if things had gone alright Buffy would be...” Her eyes widened. “Oh god. We have to go to the cemetery. We left her in there! Tara, we have to check!”

“Let's go. I'll get the car keys,” Tara said, already making her way downstairs.

Tara was sure that that was the fastest and most reckless she'd ever driven. They stopped just past the cemetery gates and ran for where Buffy was buried. Tears streaked down Willow's face as they found the ground disturbed. It looked as though someone had put the earth back on it.

“This doesn't make any sense,” Willow whispered.

“Maybe we can do a locating spell?” Tara asked.

“We'd need something from her, though. Maybe we could find a strand of her hair on her clothes in the closet. I'm gonna call Xander.”

Tara nodded, unlocking the car. The pair got back into the cabin, a cell phone already attached to Willow's ear.

When they got to the house, Tara went upstairs to Buffy's old room while Willow was on the phone. Her jaw dropped when she opened up the closet door. “Willow!” she called out. “There's something weird going on.”

Willow ran up the steps, following Tara's voice. Both of them stared into Buffy's closet, which was newly empty aside from her weapons chest on the floor. Tara ran downstairs to the hall closet and awoke the Buffybot.

“Hi, Tara!” the bot greeted with her plastic smile.

The blonde shifted uneasily, still uncomfortable communicating with the creepy robot. “Um, have you been in the real Buffy's closet lately? All the clothes seem to be gone...”

The Buffybot frowned. “No. I'm not programmed to change out of these clothes.” She smiled brightly. “It's Spike's job to undress me!”

Tara blushed. “Uh, thanks. Y-You can go back to sleep now. That's all I needed to ask.”

The bot smiled. “Goodnight, Tara.” She closed her eyes.

Tara turned around, jumping when she found Willow behind her. “Looks like the Buffybot has nothing to do with this.”

Willow nodded. “I just called Xan. We're gonna meet up at the Magic Box and see what else we can do. Something strange is going on and it's giving me the heebie jeebies. I just hope Buffy is doing alright if she...” She clammed up when Dawn came through the front door.

“What's all the racket?” Dawn asked. “Sounded like a stampede in here.”

“Sorry, Dawnie,” Willow said, her voice trembling. “I misplaced something and I've been going crazy looking for it.”

The teenager merely nodded. “Okay. We were let out early because of a water main break or something. I'm gonna take a shower and then visit Spike. I'll be back before sundown, though.” She went to go upstairs.

“Y-You're going to see Margaret?” Willow asked, frowning.

She turned around. “Yeah,” Dawn said slowly. “I'll watch her while Spike sleeps.”

Willow was having a silent internal freakout. She hoped nothing had happened to the baby since she'd used her blood for the ritual. “Okay. Um, we'll be at the Magic Box. Not sure how long we'll be there for.”

“Is there a sitch?” Dawn asked, looking worried.

“Nah,” Willow said with a wave of her hand. “It's easier to study over there when the bed upstairs isn't tempting me to nap.”

The teenager nodded. “Alright. See you guys later.”

Tara was frowning at Willow. “Are you really bothered by Dawn seeing Margaret?”

The redhead played with the ends of her sleeves. “I'm still... I'm still getting used to the fact that she exists. But also I was thinking that she's the closest, genetically, to Buffy, and I just had a thought that we could use a strand of her hair or something... Probably wouldn't work, though.”

Her lover nodded, still looking at her strangely. “Yeah, I don't think that'd work either.”

~~

Dawn was combing her hair when she found she'd missed a call from Spike. She called back, disappearing into Buffy's room where she'd heard Willow and Tara making so much noise. “Hey, Spike,” she greeted when she heard the other line pick up. She stared at the open closet. “Whoa.”

“Mornin', Bit.” He paused. “Is somethin' wrong?”

“No, but definitely weird.” Dawn was still trying to figure out why Buffy's closet was empty, and it looked like her resident witches were trying to figure out the same. But why were they looking in there in the first place? “All of Buffy's clothes are gone.”

There was silence on the other end.

“Spike?”

“Yeah, Bit. I'm still here. Are you coming over?”

“You're not wigged about this?” Dawn asked.

“Well...” Spike cleared his throat. “I've got... There's someone at the apartment who wants to see you.”

“Spike?” the teenager asked. “What's with the cryptic?”

“Dawn, it's Buffy,” he said, cutting straight to the chase. “They resurrected her, Bit. I don' know anything about her clothes disappearing, though.”

“WHAT?” Dawn shrieked.

“Shh!” Spike hissed. “I don' think they know it was successful. For your sister's sake, please don' tell them.”

“Oh god,” Dawn whispered, her heart leaping into her throat. “Is she okay? Is she...” She sat down on the carpet. “Did she meet Margaret?”

“She did.” Spike sounded elated.

“Really?” Dawn whispered, excitement filling her.

“Yeah,” Spike said. She could hear him smiling. “She's grown pretty fond of 'er in the past fourteen hours.”

“I'm coming over!” Dawn squealed.

“We're waiting for you,” Spike said happily.

“I'm not sure if I'm ready,” Buffy admitted, staring at the door.

“I'll talk to her,” Spike said soothingly. “I'll ask her to go gentle on you. But m'sure she'll do that anyway. Luv, she misses you. But if you didn' wan' to see anyone right now I think she'd respect your wishes.” He knelt at her feet and threaded his fingers through hers. “Don' know if it counts for anythin', but I'll be right here, okay?”

Buffy said nothing, squeezing his hand.

When a knock on the door sounded fifteen minutes later, Spike squeezed her hand before going to answer it. Dawn stood in the doorway, peering inside. She was trembling in anticipation.

“Spike?” Dawn whispered when he didn't move out of the way.

“Bit, nothin' sudden, okay? She's still a bit shaky.”

Dawn nodded, walking slowly into the apartment when he stepped aside. Buffy stood. The teenager was trying to contain herself, wanting nothing more than to launch herself into her older sister's arms. “Buffy?”

Her big sister smiled. “Come here, Dawn.”

Dawn ran to her arms, squeezing her tight. “Oh, Buffy! I... Are you... Are you alright?” She let go and stepped back, looking over her to take her all in.

Buffy gave a watery smile. “I... I almost had to crawl my way out of my own grave, Dawn.”

“I'm so sorry,” Dawn whimpered, breaking down.

“Shh,” the eldest Summers girl whispered, carding her fingers through her hair. “Spike was patrolling. He... He found me. He got me out.”

Dawn lifted her head from her sister's shoulder to shoot a grateful look at Spike. He nodded, still a safe distance away. “Does... Does anyone else know you're back?”

The Slayer shook her head. “No. Just you and Spike. And Clem.”

“Your clothes are gone. Willow and Tara were fussing over it, I think. I don't know where they could be. Even your boots. I knew you'd feel really sore about that.”

Buffy only laughed. “It's alright, Dawn. I was thinking...” She chanced a look at Spike. “I was thinking that maybe I could stay here for a bit. I just...” She glanced down at her lap. “I need some time.” She cracked a small smile. “Guess I don't have to worry about packing.”

“I totally understand,” the teenager said enthusiastically. “I bet you really want to spend time with Margarine also. She's the cutest, Buffy! She looks like you with blue eyes! And she does this really cute thing where she hums while she eats like she's really into her food, which makes me pretty excited about Spike introducing solids to her but he said not yet 'cause she'd probably go all crazy over food that actually tastes like something!”

Buffy raised her eyebrows at the moniker her sister had given the baby. “I'm glad I'll be there for that milestone,” she admitted honestly.

“Did you wig out?” Dawn asked, her voice soft. “I mean, I know it's totally weird to be alive again and then find out you have a daughter. Spike's been really good with her. She kinda just appeared out of nowhere. He was really bugging out and even did a DNA test so he'd have evidence to throw in the gang's faces 'cause you know how quickly they are to believe anything he says...”

Buffy nodded, glancing at Spike again. He lowered his eyes. “I... Kinda knew she was around. I had these dreams about her, and you, and Spike. I didn't know they were real. I thought they were... I don't know.” She shrugged. “So it lightened the blow a lot when Spike introduced us.”

Dawn looked from her sister to Spike. “You probably have a lot of stuff to talk about.”

“Bit--” Spike cut in.

“I have a lot of homework to do. I have this crazy science project and I have to be really good about my grades or else the social worker who comes gets all narrow-eyed and writes things down that she won't show anybody. She already was totally weirded out by Willow's witchcrafty things, like the dried up plants she keeps in her room and all the demonic books she borrowed from Giles...” She glanced at Buffy beseechingly. “But I'll be over a lot. I'm already over a lot. I spend time with Margaret and Clem while Spike is sleeping during the day. I'll be back tomorrow, okay? I just don't want to drive you nuts.”

Buffy was speechless as Dawn came to hug her. She hugged Spike too before practically bounding out of the apartment. “Is she gonna be okay?”

“I think it's a bit overwhelming for everybody,” Spike said softly. “The Bit's grown up a lot, Buffy. Of course she's prone to outbursts like all teenagers are, but I think she's headin' in a good direction for the most part.” He ran a hand through his hair, a frustrated look on his face. “An' luv, we don' have to do anythin' you don' want to. Genetically, I may be Margaret's father, and now that you're here I would like to make clear that I want to stay in her life, Buffy. But we don'--”

Buffy stared at him. “You think I want to take her away from you?”

It was Spike's turn to be speechless. He stammered. “Luv, that's not--”

“Spike,” Buffy whispered. “That's the last thing I want to do.”

His mouth audibly snapped closed. He closed his eyes as they burned with tears. “Thank you.”

“I don't even know if I'm fit enough to be a mother. I don't... I can't even breastfeed. She's only five months old but I don't know one thing about her.”

“Buffy. This is the las' thing you should be worr--”

“I just know that when I'm feeling scared or lost or depressed all I want to do is hold her in my arms and stare at her. It makes me feel horrible, using my daughter as a crutch, but--”

“Buffy--”

“Spike, I--”

He came forward and pulled her into his arms. “The fact that you acknowledge her as our daughter means the world to me,” he whispered in her ear. “The fact that you acknowledge she exists means everything to me. I thought... I thought you'd deny--”

She shook her head, her face buried in his shoulder. “Spike, this is too much. Please... No more talking. Just... Please hold me?” she whispered, peering up into his face shyly.

Spike held her tighter. “Sorry. M'sorry, luv. Here I was warnin' Dawn not to overwhelm you an' s'me who's doin' it.” He stared into her face, wanting so badly to kiss her. Instead, he pulled away, not wanting to cause her anymore stress and confusion than she was no doubt already feeling.

She closed her eyes, her face crumpling. “I'm tired.”

“Let's get into bed, shall we?” Spike murmured, brushing strands of hair out of her face.

Buffy nodded, letting him lead the way to the small guest bed. They collapsed on top of it in a tight fit, but Spike wrapped an arm around her before they fell asleep almost instantaneously.

~~

“How's it goin'?”

Buffy blinked, staring at Whistler. “It's you.”

He nodded. “Yeah.” He paused. “Doing alright?”

“I don't know,” Buffy admitted. “I think the shock factor is still very much present.”

He nodded again. “I took care of a couple things. I closed the circle from the ritual so nothing else will get in. That happens sometimes. But we gotta protect the little one, ya know? Even if it means from your peers. So I took all your clothes and dumped them in Spike's crypt. They probably have your DNA all over it. That Willow gal has been acting all crazy. She used Margaret's blood for the resurrection spell.”

“Wait. Slow down,” Buffy begged.

“Can't. You're leaving your REM stage soon.”

“Wait!” Buffy called out, sitting up.

“Buffy?” Spike asked, shaking himself from sleep.

“A dream,” Buffy explained, staring into space.

“Prophetic?” he asked, sitting up himself.

“I don't know,” Buffy said with a shake of her head. She stood up to find Margaret awake in her crib, staring at them through the bars. “Willow did something to her.” She lifted her into her arms, snuggling close.

Spike shook his head, trying to comprehend all that was going on. “What?”

“That's all the dream said. It didn't feel like any of my Slayer dreams. I just... I think we should tread softly around Willow.”

He nodded, still staring at her. “Tara actually did a protection spell on Em.”

Buffy put Margaret back in the crib and covered her face in her hands. “I'm sorry.”

“Wha'?” Spike asked, baffled.

“I'm being all crazy.”

“Luv, you're not--”

“And—and my boobs hurt.”

He frowned. “I'd know if your period was coming.”

She frowned back at him, wrinkling her nose. “What?”

“Your... You smell different.”

Buffy blushed. “Oh.”

He shrugged. “Sorry.”

Inside her crib, Margaret whimpered.

“We're not ignoring you,” Buffy said consolingly, picking her up and looking into her face. She frowned before holding her closer.

Margaret opened and closed her fist.

“Right,” Buffy murmured, taking her out of the room to get her a bottle.

Spike rubbed his face with his hands.

They were silent as they put her on the floor for tummy time. Even Clem was there to spend time with her.

“She likes this book most,” Clem said helpfully, handing Buffy a board book.

Spike sat the baby up to give her a better view of her company. “Mum,” he said, touching his thumb to his chin with his fingers fanned out. He pointed to Buffy. “Tha's your mum, luv.” He took her tiny hand and touched her thumb to her own chin. “Mum.”

“Ba ba ba,” Margaret babbled.

He smiled. “Yeh. She drives me a bit bonkers, too. In a good way, though.”

“What's 'dad'?” Buffy asked, glancing at him.

He put his thumb to his forehead, making a similar sign to that of 'mom.' “An' 'uncle',” he added, putting his pointer and middle finger together like a peace sign and touching his cheek.

Buffy watched him, smiling. He looked at her curiously.

“Wha'?”

She shook her head. “Nothing. You're a good dad.”

Spike smiled. Buffy decided that she really liked it when he did that.

~~

“Hey,” Willow greeted nervously into the phone.

“Hi,” Angel replied. “Everything alright?”

Willow bit her bottom lip. “Well... I don't know.” She tried to gather her thoughts. She didn't want to reveal too much. The redhead wasn't too keen on trusting Angel still, but nevertheless he was an ally. “Things have been... weird. The ground on Buffy's grave has been upturned. And her clothes disappeared from her closet. I-I don't really know what's going on.”

Angel was silent.

“A-Angel?”

“Anything else been going on aside from that? I need more information.”

“Um, there has been total chaos here. The Buffybot got i-into a fight and got hurt and her wires were exposed. I think it gave the demons an idea of how slayerless Sunnydale really is. I-It could be that they're just playing around and terrorizing us, but I put a protection spell on Buffy's house. There's no way anyone could've gotten in. I'm just at a loss.”

Angel sighed. “I'll be there in a couple hours.”

Willow felt relief flood her. “Thanks, Angel.”

~~

Spike awoke to screaming. He bounded off the couch, entering the guest room where he found Buffy writhing in bed. Margaret was hollering, probably scared out of her mind. The vampire sat next to the sleeping Slayer and put his hands on her upper arms, hissing when she tried to claw at him. “Buffy!”

Buffy screamed again, tears streaming down her cheeks.

“Buffy, wake up. S'Spike. Sweetheart, you're safe,” he murmured, gathering her into his arms.

Buffy blinked. “Wh-What time is it?” she whispered.

“Almost seven in the morning,” he replied gently. “I gotta get Margaret, luv. She's frightened.”

“I'm sorry,” Buffy whispered.

“No need,” he hushed her. He took Margaret from the crib, sitting down beside a distraught Buffy.

“I-I don't know why I keep having dreams like that,” Buffy whispered.

“Luv, if anyone woke up in their own coffin m'sure they'd react jus' the same.” He swallowed. “It was that way for me... For a while.” He stared down at Margaret who was falling asleep again. “D'you wan' me to stay here for a bit?”

Buffy nodded, bringing her legs to her chest. Spike returned Margaret to her crib before sitting down beside her. He ran his hands up and down her back, and Buffy's eyes fluttered closed as he began massaging her shoulders.

She opened her eyes and looked at him. “I sleep better when I'm with you or Margaret.”

“I don' have any objections to you sleeping in the crib.”

“I'm scared I'll have a nightmare in there and hurt her,” she whispered.

Spike ran his fingers through her hair. “Luv, this won' be forever. M'sorry s'so miserable. Lie down now. I'll stay with you if you're so worried about hurting our girl. C'mon.”

Buffy straightened and scooted over as much as she could in the small twin sized bed. She rested her head on Spike's chest, closing her eyes.

Later in the day, Clem sat down next to Buffy at the dining room table.

“Hey,” he said gently.

She smiled at him. “Hi.”

“You know, I don't mind switching beds with you two.”

“C-Clem--”

“Buffy. You sleep better. And it'd benefit Margaret. She'll sleep better, too, and she'll see her parents in the same room often. I think that's good for her. I even used to sleep on the floor when she was younger in the guest room.”

Buffy's eyes watered. “Clem...”

“Aw, now don't get all emotional on me. I eat emotion, you know, and with Margaret's normal dose of distress about being hungry or whining during tummy time, I'm getting really full and I've been gaining a little weight, you know?”

Buffy stared. “You eat my baby's emotions?”

Clem laughed nervously. “Slayer, it's not like that. When people show negative emotion like embarrassment or sadness, they emit a lot of energy. You know that tension in the room when something's awkward or uncomfortable? Well, I eat it.”

Buffy found herself laughing also. “My life's gotten so strange.”

He smiled. “So you'll take the bed?”

~~

Angel frowned, watching Spike dust a vampire squirming out of its own grave. The bleach blond whirled around, glaring at him. If looks were spikes...

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Spike barked.

“Willow called me.” Angel sniffed, coming closer. “You smell...”

“Get yer nose out o'my business,” Spike growled, throwing a punch at his grandsire.

“Why do I smell her all over you?” he hollered, catching his fist and squeezing. He broke Spike's hand easily. “Willow called me worried sick. She said all of Buffy's clothes are gone and someone had disturbed her grave. What the fuck are you up to, Spike?”

Spike howled, using his uninjured hand to box Angel in the head. “What I want to know is what the fuck you're up to. Willow called you in despair, yes, but you don' usually cater to or associate with Buffy's friends, do you?”

“She said that they needed help.”

“Yeh, maybe to lower the demon population while she focuses on fixin' one of 'er blasted mistakes!”

Angel stared at him. “What are you going on about?”

Spike stepped closer into the older vampire's personal space. “Take a good, long whiff. Wha' is it exactly that you think you smell?”

“If you've been fucking a decomposing corpse--”

The bleach blond swung at his face. “BUFFY'S ALIVE, YOU STUPID GIT! Pulled from fuckin' heaven because of Willow's meddlin' ways! Maybe she's stayin' with me because she's got nowhere else to turn! You think she'd trust 'er friends after what they've done? Because surely if she must turn to me her trust in her so-called friends has severely dwindled, don' you think?”

He spat borrowed blood on the ground. “Where is she?” Angel demanded.

“Safe,” Spike growled. “What'd she tell you?”

Angel deflated. “About the grave, and the clothes, and the bot.”

“You don' know the half of it,” Spike told him, lowering his fists. “And come to think of it, neither do I.”

“Where is she?” Angel asked. “Where's Willow?”

“Stayin' at the Slayer's.”

“And Giles?”

“Still at his flat,” Spike replied.

Angel nodded. “We go there first.” He glared at him. “And then you'll take me to see Buffy.”

Spike rolled his eyes, following after the larger vampire. “Yes, granddaddy, your wish is my command,” he sniped.

Spike flexed his injured hand, growling at the pain. “I'll have you know this is the hand I get friendly with.”

Angel rolled his eyes. “Oh, you'll live.” He knocked on Giles' door.

The Watcher opened the door and immediately started gaping. “What's going on?”

“Tha's wha' we're tryin' to figure out,” Spike said.

Giles stepped back. “Come inside.”

The bleach blond sank into the graying Brit's sofa. “Buffy's alive.”

“What?” he barked.

He nodded. “Thank yer redheaded witch. She's absolutely bonkers. An' she's got followers whose fanaticism nearly match that of Manson's.”

“You're absolutely sure?” Giles asked, aghast.

“Wish I could give you more evidence since you love the shit outta that. But the man I found diggin' Buffy's grave is gone. I was patrollin' when I found 'im. Tol' me the Slayer was suffocatin' in her own grave thanks to those children of yours.”

The Watcher removed his glasses. “Where is she?”

“Clem's.”

“She...” Giles glanced at Angel. He narrowed his eyes. “Why are you here?”

Angel squeezed the bridge of his nose. “Willow called me. Said the Hellmouth is Slayerless and getting out of control.”

Giles picked up the phone, his words clipped. “She has a lot of explaining to do.”

“I rather think they all do,” Angel growled.

“For once I agree with Peaches,” Spike piped up. “They've all gone ravin' mad.” He paused when he heard the phone on the other end start to ring. “Watcher. Willow doesn' know what she's done.”

Giles closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

“Hello?” It was Dawn on the other end.

“Dawn, please put Willow on the phone,” Giles gritted out.

Dawn didn't speak again, instead transferring the phone to the witch in question.

“H-Hello?” Willow sounded like she was about to blubber.

“What have you done?” Giles all but growled.

“Wh-Wha--”

“Buffy is alive!” the Watcher roared.

“Sh-She...” Willow sounded elated. “She is?”

“Don't you dare see this as an accomplishment, Willow. Who else was involved?” Giles snapped.

Willow had grown quiet on the other line. “I saved her,” she said darkly. “Of course I see it as an accomplishment. I went to the cemetery but her grave had already been put back. Tara and I were working on a locating spell just when you called.”

“No need,” Giles retorted. “We already know of her whereabouts.”

“Where is she?” Willow demanded.

“I think that concern is out of your hands now,” Giles said dangerously. “Did you call Angel? Because he's here standing right now in the middle of my living room.”

“I asked him for help--”

“You lied to him.”

Willow clammed up. After a long pause, she murmured, “I thought you'd be happy. Out of everyone I expected you to be the most grateful.”

“For disturbing the laws of nature? For leaving my charge in her grave? These are dark magicks that you have been dabbling in, Willow. These forces are not for you to touch. There are consequences involved in doing things like this. I am awfully disappointed.”

“Disappointed?” Willow nearly shrieked. “I'm not a child that you can just talk down to!”

“No, but you are making decisions like one. And I am at fault for this. I did not supervise you enough in your practices. Willow, I wish to meet with you. And everyone.”

“Where is Buffy?” she asked again.

“Safe,” Giles said, slamming down the phone. He turned to the two master vampires standing behind him. “Please take me to her,” he murmured, sounding defeated and ragged.

Angel glanced at Spike and opened the front door. “Lead the way.”

Spike sighed and walked past the threshold.

“I haven't enough patience to walk,” Giles called. “I'll retrieve my keys.”

The Watcher and the two master vampires climbed into the Citroen, Spike navigating as Giles drove.

~~

“F'got my keys,” Spike growled, rapping impatiently on the door.

Clem opened it seconds later, raising his eyebrows. “Hey, man, you should let me know if we're gonna have guests.”

Spike felt like his head might explode. “They weren't expected.”

The loose-skinned demon stepped back. “Ah.” He glanced at Angel. “Come in, I guess.”

The bleach blond went for the door to the guest quarters. He knocked gently before turning the knob. “Luv--” His eyes widened at the tableau in front of him. Buffy was attempting to close a button-up shirt while still giving Margaret access to her nipple. “Luv?” he whispered.

She smiled radiantly at him. “I started lactating, Spike! That's why they were hurting so much.”

“Lactating?” Angel nearly shrieked. “What the fuck is going on?”

Buffy's face fell. “Wh-Wh--”

Spike closed the door and whirled around to face Angel and the Watcher. “Calm. The fuck. Down.”

The sound of Margaret crying came from the other room. Buffy opened the door with the writhing child in her arms, her wide-eyed stare going from Giles to Angel to Giles again.

“Spike--” she said desperately.

He took Margaret from her. She immediately launched herself into Giles' arms. Her Watcher enveloped her into a warm embrace, holding her tightly.

Angel's face had fallen into a permanent frown. He stared at the child in Spike's arms. Margaret turned her head and stared back.

Spike raised his eyebrow. “This is Margaret,” he said simply, plopping the baby into Angel's lap.

“When did...” Angel's brows furrowed deeper as he lifted the child closer to his face.

Her father watched as the girl fisted some of Angel's hair, seemingly repulsed when she pulled back and found gel all over her palm. “Five months ago. When Buffy jumped. I found 'er in my crypt. She's mine.” He lowered his voice. “An' Buffy's.”

Margaret whined, not liking the sensation of the gel.

“Sorry,” Angel muttered, taking her hand and wiping it on his shirt. “But how?”

Spike shrugged. “Dunno. Bu' m'not gonna jus' leave a kid sittin' in a crypt. 'Specially one that's mine.” He sniffed. “Smelled like me f'some reason. An' Buffy. Usually children have their own scent.” He stood up to get a wipe, taking Margaret's hand and cleaning off the rest of the gel.

Margaret grabbed Angel's nose, moving in to put her mouth on it.

“Hey!” Angel cried.

Buffy laughed. When the dark haired vampire shot a glare at her, she covered her mouth to muffle her giggles.

Spike smiled up at her from the couch. “S'good to see you smilin', luv, 'specially if it's at the expense o' Peaches'.”

“Sorry,” she chortled, not sounding very apologetic at all.

“I want to meet with everyone,” Giles said from behind them.

Buffy turned around, biting her lower lip.

“I'll understand if you don't want to see them yet,” he said quietly.

“No,” Buffy said gently. “I'll come with.”

The Watcher nodded. “Would you like to reschedule for tomorrow evening? It's getting rather late.”

“That'd be great,” she murmured, taking Margaret from Angel. “Gives me a little time to prepare, you know?”

Giles looked at Angel. “Are you staying?”

The dark haired vampire shook his head. “No. I've got to get back.” He glanced at Buffy. “Can I talk to you for a second?”

A dangerous look came over Spike's features. Buffy walked over to the bleach blond and kissed his forehead.

“Yeah,” she said softly. “I'll walk you to the door.”

“Buffy--”

She shook her head. “If you're going to say something condescending I don't wanna hear it. I'm tired, Angel. I've been back for less than three days and I've already experienced about a year's drama, and dirty diapers. If you want to talk about anything you consider pressing, give me a call in maybe... Two weeks at the most.”

The ensouled vampire stared at her, his lips pressed in a tight, thin line. After several long seconds, he spoke: “Good luck, Buffy.” And then he turned around and sauntered out the door.

Giles stepped forward when Buffy stared outside far longer than it took for her ex-boyfriend to get in his car and leave. “Buffy, are you alright?”

She turned around and forced a smile. “I will be.” She closed the door. “Stay a little longer?” she asked, her voice small.

“As long as you need,” Giles said gently, wrapping an arm around his charge. He kissed the top of her head when she leaned it against his shoulder.

“I don't really feel like talking about anything serious,” she warned, sitting down on the couch and taking Margaret from Spike as she reached for her.

He nodded. “Of course.”

“Who knew I could make such a pretty baby?” she whispered, touching her fingertip to her daughter's nose.

“Hey! I apparently had a hand in that,” Spike joked.

She nodded, smiling at him shyly. “I-I think I'm ready to patrol soon.”

The two Brits looked at her, surprised.

“Buffy, are you sure?” Giles asked.

She nodded again and shrugged. “What else was I brought back for?”

“Buffy,” Giles said gently, “I think you should take as much time as you need. Everyone has been doing a superb job looking after the Hellmouth.”

“I took enough time,” she said, sitting straighter.

Spike stared at her, a look of longing naked on his features. “Buffy, please,” he whispered. “Let's talk about this, yeah?”

She shook her head. “No. That's final. Tomorrow I'm returning to my duties.” She glanced down at Margaret's serene face. “I have to keep my family safe.”

Giles frowned. “Did you have a Slayer dream?”

“It didn't feel like it,” Buffy murmured. “But it felt important enough.” She looked up at him. “I'll tell you about it tomorrow.”

When Giles left, Spike put a tentative hand on Buffy's shoulder.

“Luv...” he whispered. “Spend some more time with your baby. Try to relax. Please?”

“I will,” she replied. “But there are a couple things I need to take care of.”

“If this involves Margaret, I really don' appreciate you leavin' me out f'it,” Spike remarked, his temper rising. “You need to be aware now that your actions--”

“My actions affect everybody? Of course they do, and they always have, Spike! You think I don't know that?”

Margaret began to cry in her arms. Buffy's face fell.

“M'jus' sayin' that whatever you're thinkin' of doin' might be a little irrational, luv,” Spike said gently, his voice even. “Wha' are you gonna do? Go out there and slash some poor sods' necks and spit on their dust 'til you feel better? Use your duties as an excuse to take out your frustrations?”

Buffy's shoulders shook.

“An' while you're angry you won' be thinkin' much 'bout your own safety, will you?” Spike pressed on, a little more aggressively this time. He held out his hands, beckoning her to give him Margaret. “You can't call all the shots jus' because you're feeling hurt an' self-righteous, luv. At leas' not for long.”

“What else am I supposed to do?” the Slayer whispered, tears escaping from her eyes.

“Let me help you,” Spike begged. “An' the Watcher. Let him help you, too. I understand you're angry, luv. M'not tryin' to say it ain't right, or appropriate. What they did was wrong. Hell, I wan' to tear off some heads jus' the same.”

Buffy sank into the couch, bursting into tears. Margaret blinked in surprise when a wayward one dropped onto her cheek.

At that moment, Clem cut in, taking the young girl. Spike sat down beside Buffy and pulled her into his side, making soothing clucking noises with his tongue when she buried her face into his chest and sobbed.

Xander looked at through the glass counter helplessly. “What kinda doughnut says 'welcome back' and 'whatever misunderstandings there be, we're really, really sorry?'”

Anya sighed. “Probably chocolate frosted chocolate,” she deadpanned. “Can I have a jelly-filled one?”

He shot her a meaningful look. “Of course, sweetheart. As many as you'd like. Mi dinero es tu dinero.”

“Well, since yours is mine, I guess I'll just get one so we can properly save,” Anya said with a resolute nod.

Xander wrapped an arm around her and kissed her temple.

“Doughnut!” Anya reminded him, a small smile lifting a corner of her mouth.

“Yes, dear,” he chortled, threading his fingers through hers.

~~

“Where's Buffy?” Spike asked, his sleepiness clearing away like condensation on a hot day.

“I tried to stop her...” Clem said guiltily.

“Where. Is. She?” he growled.

“She left to patrol,” the loose-skinned demon said, trembling.

“Fuck!” the master vampire roared, ripping through the apartment for clothes.

“Why are you worried?” Clem's curiosity pushed aside his fear of Spike's anger.

“Clem, I don' know f'she came back different. Hell, I know for sure she didn'. Her body is fuckin' lactating.”

He froze. “You think she might not have her powers anymore.”

Spike didn't answer, merely throwing open the door and sauntering out into the early evening.

He found her in Sunnydale Cemetery, not far from her own grave. Her grunts filled the air as he watched her wrest a fledgling from his grave and land a punch on his face that instantly shattered his nose. The vampire howled, and Buffy rocked back on her haunches to wipe at the demon's blood that had splattered all over her face and neck.

Spike inhaled sharply, bringing his stake down and dusting the fledgling instantly. “Workin' out a li'l stress?”

Buffy's eyes shot up, sending the bleach blond a menacing glare. She jumped to her feet to slam her fist into Spike's temple only for him to parry the blow and shove her backward.

Spike readied himself for the chip to fire. “Luv--”

Buffy seemed to be waiting, too. Her chest was rising and falling as she moved forward to give him an answering shove. Spike growled in annoyance, taking her small wrists in his hands. He swung her left and winced when her tailbone met the hard ground.

Her face was shiny with perspiration and he could see her nipples leaking through the thin shirt she wore. “Hit me again,” she dared.

“Luv--”

Buffy scrambled to her feet and punched him in the nose.

“Fuck!” He growled and backhanded her.

The Slayer spat out blood where her teeth had cut open the inside of her cheek. She kicked him in the shin, but he blocked her with his own leg and swiped both from under her. “Are you...” She was trembling. “Are you feeding?”

“No,” Spike replied, sounding incredulous. “The chip's not even out, luv.”

“What?” she demanded.

“S'not out,” he enunciated slowly.

“Spike--”

“Luv,” he said gently, gripping her shoulders in an effort to make her look at him, “it's still there.”

“Oh God,” she whimpered, seeming to wilt on the spot.

“Wha'?” he asked, confusion marking his features.

“I... You can hit me. I'm not... I've come back wrong!” Buffy wailed, stepping back. She tripped over a gravestone and fell hard, hitting the back of her head on its neighbor.

“Buffy,” he said gently, lowering himself to a crouch, “Slayer, stop. You smell... You smell exactly the same. There's nothin' off about you. Your heart's beatin', blood's red an' coagulatin'. It could be a product of the spell or whatever.”

Tears spilled down her cheeks. “But Spike--”

He shook his head, reaching for her. “No, luv. C'mon. C'mon back home. Please?”

She shakily took his waiting hand, letting him help her to her feet. “You're sure,” she whispered.

“Certain as anythin',” he murmured, cupping her cheek. He couldn't resist. He tugged her flush against him, gently kissing her mouth. He tasted blood at the corner of her lip. “Same ol' Buffy,” he assured her. “But if you wan' me to make sure...” Arousal filled him at the taste of her, and he darted out his tongue, swiping it across her bottom lip.

“Spike...” Buffy whispered, her eyes following his tongue as it darted back into his mouth.

He gently hushed her, backing her into the outer wall of a mausoleum and covered her lips with his. “Buffy,” he groaned in between kisses. “Slayer,” he growled when she met him kiss for kiss. “God, fuckin' gorgeous mother of my child...”

A high pitched sigh escaped her throat when he gently nipped at her shoulder. “Spike, please,” she whined softly.

“Yeh?” he murmured, tugging her to him again and pushing open the crypt door.

“Please...” she moaned as he backed her up into the cold room, her rear hitting the lip of a sarcophagus behind them.

Spike lowered her onto the lid, his body covering hers as he kissed her again. Their hips undulated as their mouths rubbed together, Spike's arms winding their way around Buffy's small form. He lifted his head to gaze into her face, his eyes falling closed when she touched her forehead to his.

“M'sorry,” he breathed.

She shook her head. “I'm not.”

He looked at her in awe.

“We have a meeting to go to, though,” Buffy whispered, sniffling as the stuffy mausoleum air congested her nostrils.

“Buffy,” he murmured, squeezing his eyes shut. “Please. No games.”

She cupped his cheeks, stroking his face with her thumbs. When he opened his eyes, she shook her head. “No games.”

He pressed his lips to hers. She sighed into his mouth, deepening the kiss. He removed his weight from her body to turn her around, suckling at the back of her neck and pressing his erection into her ass.

Buffy gasped, her hands moving backward to locate his zipper. Spike hummed in pleasure as her fingers trailed over the bulge in his pants. He pushed hers down her bony hips as the sound of his zipper lowering filled the cold room.

“Spike, please,” she whimpered.

The vampire angled himself at her entrance, groaning as he slowly sank into her warm heat. She writhed beneath him and he stopped the movement of her hips with a bruising grip.

“Oh, god,” she cried.

Spike circled his hips tortuously, hitting her gspot on every upward stroke.

“Yeah!”

Spike felt her squeeze around him and groaned, emptying himself inside her. He slumped against her, his cheek pressed against hers. They remained like that for a long moment, Buffy's heart rate returning to normal.

“What if...”

“Hm?” Spike murmured, kissing her hair.

She shook her head and giggled, turning her head to look at him. “It's silly. Never mind.”

“Tell me,” he whispered, kissing her earlobe.

Buffy smiled at him shyly. “What if we just made another baby?”

An unreadable look came over Spike's features, and he leaned in to kiss her hard. He slipped out of her, gently turning her around to have easier access to her lips.

“Would love that, y'know,” he told her.

“Me too,” she admitted, smiling shyly.

Spike dug in his pocket, producing a packet of kleenex.

Buffy laughed. “I expected cigarettes. But you're a dad now.”

He gave her a warm smile, gently cleaning between her legs. He chucked the used kleenex somewhere in the crypt before using another on himself.

They both cleaned up and righted their clothes. When they finished, Buffy smiled shyly at him. Spike chuckled and pressed a soft kiss to her lips.

“You're adorable, you know,” he said.

“You're not half bad yourself,” Buffy teased, a blush tinting her cheeks.

“Let's get to that meetin' 'fore they send out a search party,” he said. He stole another kiss before they joined hands and made their way to The Magic Box.

–

Buffy arrived to a platter of doughnuts being shoved in her face.

“'D'oh! Doughnut?'” Xander offered, giving her a guilty look.

“Is that what they're calling them now?” Buffy asked, a little amused.

Anya gave an approving nod when the Slayer reached for chocolate glazed chocolate.

“These ones are,” Xander sighed. Buffy swore one of his eyes started bulging when Spike walked in behind her. “These doughnuts are not for you,” he claimed.

Anya gave him a disapproving look, pursing her lips.

Her fiance faltered. “A-At least not the chocolate on chocolate ones, because they're all for Buffy . . .”

Spike reached out for a Boston crème. “Mmm,” he said with a nod, brushing past him to sit at the round table in the middle of the shop.

“Which one do you think Giles would appreciate more?” the dark haired man asked.

“Whichever is spiked with scotch, probably,” Spike remarked around a mouthful of pastry.

Anya took a bite of hers. “Where's Margaret?”

“Babysitter,” Buffy replied. “You might know him. He's a loose-skinned demon named Clem.”

Xander nearly choked. Anya shot him another look.

“He's a good bloke,” Spike interjected. “He's been lettin' me live with 'im ever since I found Margaret. An' m'pretty sure she's got him wrapped aroun' her li'l fingers.”

“And thumbs, I think,” Buffy remarked, smiling.

Everyone looked up when Giles came through the door, followed by Tara and a guilt-ridden Willow.

“May we start?” Giles asked stiffly, getting down to business.

Everyone sat at the table. Spike stood to let Buffy sit, leaning on the back of her chair.

“Is Dawn coming?” Buffy asked, her voice wavering a little.

“She's at Clem's,” Tara said softly.

The Slayer nodded. “Okay.”

“D-Did you want her here, Buffy?” the blond witch asked worriedly.

She shook her head. “Well... I dunno. I'll talk to her one-on-one, I think. That might be best.”

“Where's Angel?” Willow asked.

“He went home,” Buffy replied in clipped tones. “He said that this is more our sitch, and I actually agree.” She sent Willow a cold look.

The redhead seemed to wither under her gaze. “B-Buffy...”

Giles cleared his throat. “Let's begin by going over the resurrection spell. What did it entail?”

Willow in her anxiety had grown silent, but Anya got right to the chase. “An urn of Osiris and vino de madre.”

Giles looked stricken. “Vino de madre? Where in god's name did you get that?”

“Th-the b-black market,” Willow stammered.

“How did you know it was even authentic? Did you research any repercussions that could be involved with this spell?”

“Yes,” Willow said, sitting straighter. “I was very careful about my plans.”

“Plans that you failed to share with me,” Giles hissed acerbically.

“I knew that--”

“What? That I would disapprove? That I would attempt to stop it?” he barked angrily.

“I don't understand why this is such an issue!” Willow cried, throwing her hands up. “Buffy's back from whatever hell dimension she'd been sent to! She's safe and at home with us!”

Buffy was uncharacteristically silent.

Willow turned to the Slayer, begging her with her eyes. “Buffy--”

“I wasn't in a hell dimension,” the blonde said quietly.

Anya gasped.

“A-Another dimension?” the redhead asked hopefully, already beginning to shrink in her seat.

“No,” Buffy answered curtly. “I'm . . . I'm pretty sure I was in heaven.”

A heavy silence blanketed the group. Spike gently squeezed Buffy's shoulder, and she raised her hand to put it atop his.

Willow's mouth was opening and closing like a fish, Tara's eyes were watering with tears, and Giles, Anya, and Xander looked their own brands of shell-shocked. The redhead looked at Spike almost accusingly. “You knew?”

Imperceptibly, he nodded.

“W-When?”

“When I told him,” Buffy said bluntly.

Willow's mouth snapped closed.

“I'm . . . I'm sorry,” Tara croaked.

Buffy just nodded, lowering her eyes. “I have Margaret now,” she said, her voice soft. She glanced up at Spike, who was still standing behind her. “It . . . It makes things a little easier.”

Suddenly Anya burst into tears. She threw herself at Buffy and enveloped her into a tight hug. Buffy was expecting something like this, but not from the ex-demon in question. Shocked, she slowly circled her arms around Anya's trembling shoulders.

“I-If I'd've known,” Anya whimpered, glancing guiltily to Buffy and then at Xander. “What . . . What have we done?”

“Someone dug me out,” Buffy said when the strawberry blonde pulled away.

Giles broke out of his silent spell. “What? Who?”

“Spike said he was on patrol when he saw someone digging up my grave,” she said quietly.

“Wasn' all that convinced at firs',” Spike admitted. “Thought it was some crazy tryin' to desecrate the Slayer's grave. But he said that her friends had left her in there. Maybe he'd witnessed 'em goin' through with the ritual.”

Those involved looked at one another in confusion.

“I helped, o'course, when I heard Buffy scratchin' at her coffin . . .” Spike said slowly.

“I knew him from somewhere,” the Slayer mused.

The peroxide blond looked surprised. Her Watcher sat up in interest. “You do? Who is he?”

“Powers That Be,” she said quietly. “I met him a long time ago. But I thought he'd kicked the bucket.”

“Who knows anymore,” Anya snorted, wiping wayward tears from the corner of her eyes. “That bunch pretty much manipulates whatever they want to and call it good.” She glanced at Buffy quickly. Apologetically. “They're probably the ones responsible for the existence of bunnies.”

Buffy stood. “I want to get back.” She glanced at Spike, who'd taken a step backward to accommodate for her movement. “I've been away from Margaret for too long.”

No one tried to stop them when she and Spike went for the door.

“I'm so confused,” Willow said earnestly as the door closed behind them, the bell jingling happily.

“What's to be confused about?” Anya asked, sending her an incredulous look.

“She jumped off that tower, where that portal had opened that was releasing all those monsters . . .” Willow said. She pursed her lips. “I had honestly thought that that was where she'd gotten stuck in. I don't know why it never occurred to me that she could've been sent to a better place.”

Giles glanced at her and sighed. “Despite how short the meeting, it has still been a long evening. I will retire to my flat.” His voice sounded flat and tired. “Please do save phone calls and remarks for well after noon tomorrow.”

Tara was staring at her girlfriend as she watched the older man leave. “Willow?” she asked cautiously.

The redhead turned, an unreadable expression on her face.

Her voice shook. “What are you thinking about now?”

“Something just doesn't seem right,” she said slowly.

Anya threw her hands in the air. “What crazy notion is your brain concocting up now?”

Willow shrugged. “Maybe I'm just tired. But it seems unreasonable how not upset Buffy is to be pulled from heaven. Maybe she's holding something back? She hasn't been the same . . . Buffy.”

Tara gave her girlfriend a strange look. “I-I think anyone wouldn't be acting like themselves if they've gone through the things Buffy has.”

Xander had been tightlipped up until now. “Maybe that's true, but she has been acting different. Trusting in demons more easily . . . Who is this Clem guy?”

“Dawnie has been with him a lot lately,” Willow went on, worrying her lip.

Anya rolled her eyes. “Are you guys just looking for trouble? Buffy's a grownup. Let's let her make her own decisions.”

“She's my best friend,” Willow said, resolute. “I have every right to be worried about her.”

The ex-demon sighed, locking her money away and going for the front door. “Well, I think Buffy would appreciate it if you could do it a little more quietly.”

Xander gazed at her. “Ahn, I don't understand. Lately you've been so pissed every time I mention the Buffster, and now you're vying for her?”

She shrugged, looking at him coldly. “I have more respect for her now that she's acting on her own, and not seeing everything in black and white like you always seem to. So what that she's defending a demon friend, or possibly becoming lovers with another? Has it ever occurred to you that maybe your ways of thinking are a little close-minded for someone who's lived on a hellmouth for his entire life?” She grew quiet. “Buffy's new attitude about things has made me feel more confident in myself, and who I am, and who I was, Xander. All of your attitudes used to make me feel so small, and undeserving.” She looked him in the eye. “But maybe it's you who's undeserving, Xander. I can't spend the rest of my life with someone who reflexively thinks badly of my own kind, or what used to be. It's been hard for me to look at you, let alone have a pleasant or rational conversation with you lately. I think I need to rethink our engagement.”

When Anya stormed out of the shop, Xander's face had gone completely white.

Buffy was surprised when she found Anya knocking at Clem's door. “Hi.”

“Oh.” Anya was wringing her hands nervously. “I thought you'd be inside.”

“I needed to go for a little walk.” The Slayer glanced down at the overnight bag in Anya's pale grip. “Is everything okay?”

The ex-demon's shoulders dropped. “No. Tara gave me the address you were staying at.” She looked at her shyly, which was a characteristic Buffy had rarely seen on her friend's fiancee. “I was hoping it wouldn't be a bother...”

Buffy shook her head and smiled. “No. Not at all. I mean, I think we should check with Clem.” She gave an apologetic look. “But I doubt he'd mind? Let's just check now and see,” she babbled.

“A friend of Buffy's is a friend of mine,” Clem replied later after the girls had explained Anya's situation. “The couch pulls out.”

“I'll get you some bedclothes, pet,” Spike said, going for the closet.

“Thanks,” Anya said quietly. “Really not meaning to steal your thunder, Buffy, but this entire situation is making me see Xander in a light I'm not very comfortable with. And nothing really ever . . . makes me uncomfortable. Which makes me uncomfortable. Is that hard to understand?”

Buffy gave her an amused smile. “Not at all, actually.” She handed Anya a pillow. “Margaret doesn't really sleep through the night all that much, so you might get woken up like the rest of us.”

She nodded. “That's okay. It helps that she's unbearably cute. Whoever this creator guy is, he really thought things through with babies.”

The Slayer laughed. Anya smiled at her.

“It's good to see you so happy,” the ex-demon commented.

“Thanks,” Buffy said, surprised.

Anya shrugged. “It's not everyday that you see someone enjoying life as much as you do after being resurrected in your own grave.”

The blonde girl winced. “There are some bad moments . . .”

Her friend's fiancee nodded. “That's understandable.”

The girls stood in a companionable silence as Spike pulled out the couch bed. They helped him get the fitted sheet on and tucked the pillow into its case.

Buffy turned to her friend. “Goodnight, Anya.”

She beamed. “Goodnight. I sleep like a log most of the time so please feel free to have sex with one another.”

Buffy's face was as red as a tomato as Spike laughed. He ushered her into their bedroom as Anya climbed into the guest bed.

Spike tugged on Buffy's hand as he got comfortable in bed. She followed in after him, cuddling into his side as though they'd done this for ages. Their eyes met and Spike couldn't help but smile at her, cupping her cheek. Buffy shyly averted her gaze, pressing a soft kiss into his palm.

“Love you,” Spike said gently.

Buffy didn't know how to answer, so she only threw her arms around him and buried her face in his chest. Spike liked that enough. He closed his eyes, inhaling her scent as he kissed her hair.

They were silent for a long while, and Buffy tensed when she could hear Anya crying in the living room.

“Spike, I . . .”

He nodded. “Go.”

Buffy opened the bedroom door to find Anya curled on her side. “Hey,” she said softly.

“S-Sorry,” Anya whispered. “I'm not normally so tearful.”

“It's okay. We've all gone through a lot,” she replied, sitting at the foot of the bed.

Anya sat up and scooted closer, wiping her eyes with the corner of her blanket. “It's funny, in that ironic way, funny. I used to exact vengeance on guys who acted as ignorant as Xander is acting, and all I can do now is cry these stupid tears.”

Buffy nodded. “I felt that way when The Council took my powers away on my seventeenth birthday. It was just for a short time, but I felt incredibly weak when I realized how much I rely on my Slayer strength.”

The ex-demon nodded. She glanced at her. “If Spike makes you happy, don't allow others' beliefs to bend you the other way.” She shrugged. “You've only got so much time. I mean, unless people keep resurrecting you . . .”

Buffy laughed, surprised at how easy it was for her to do so. “Well, I hope this is the last of it. It's hard knowing what I had to leave. That I was there and it was so easily taken from me.” She paused, realizing that she was talking about things healthily for the first time to someone who wasn't Spike or Giles. She studied Anya's face. “I hope Xander snaps out of it.”

The other girl shot her a grateful look. “Me, too.”

Buffy crawled back into bed, meeting Spike's gaze with a grateful look as he opened the covers for her.

“She doin' alright?” he asked.

“No,” Buffy sighed. “For someone so exposed to the supernatural on a day to day basis, Xander is really . . . he's really . . .” She struggled tiredly for the word.

“A ponce?” Spike supplied.

Buffy laughed, burying her face in his chest. Spike relished it, wrapping his arms tightly around her.

“M'a lucky man,” he murmured, instantly feeling unworthy once his words touched the air.

Buffy studied his face for a long time, then glanced behind her at Margaret sleeping in her crib. “I think we've both been pretty lucky so far,” she said quietly.

Spike released the breath he hadn't known he'd been holding. Buffy smiled as he hid his face in her shoulder, playing with the tuft of hair at the nape of his neck.

Buffy took a deep breath, swallowed. “I lo--”

Margaret cut her off with a piercing cry. Buffy playfully rolled her eyes as she stood to see to her daughter. Meanwhile, Spike was still in bed, frozen to the spot.

He watched Buffy pat Margaret back to sleep, stepping back as her breathing deepened.

“Buffy?” Spike sounded more vulnerable than she'd ever heard him.

She smiled and sat next to him, throwing her arms around his neck. “I love you,” she whispered, tightening her embrace.

Spike sat stock still, and was still silent as she withdrew to look at his face.

“Those moments that I saw you with Margaret, from wherever I was to in the flesh . . . And watching you protect my friends and my sister even when you thought I was gone. And how you've taken care of Margaret and me so far, and how you're always at my side . . . Those are just a couple things that I love about you, Spike.” She smiled shyly and brought her legs up to her chest.

She laughed as Spike launched himself at her, covering her with kisses and sweeping her up into his arms.

“This isn't a dream,” Spike murmured.

Buffy smiled and cupped his cheek.

“I love you,” he breathed.

She grinned. “I love you.”

“Cor, I don't deserve you,” he whispered, looking upon her face as if seeing it for the first time. His eyes roved over her features as if committing it all to memory.

Buffy shrugged. “Who says what we deserve, anyway? I think it's just better to make the most of things.”

Spike smiled and kissed her loudly on the mouth, enjoying her giggles. Her eyes were getting heavy and he made sure that she was comfortable, tucking the blanket underneath her chin and wrapping his arms around her. His girl had had a long couple days and he was happy that when she closed her eyes to go to sleep, it was with him that she sought solace and protection from. It made him feel like the luckiest man alive—well, undead.

“Love you,” he murmured into her hair.

“Love . . .” she trailed off, drifting into sleep.

He turned his head to check on Margaret, chuckling when he found her rolled over onto her stomach, seeming to watch them intently. She laid her cheek down on the mattress, her eyes falling closed.

“Love my girls,” Spike said aloud, hugging Buffy tighter.

~~

Clem walked out of his bedroom just as Anya was wrestling with the pull-out couch. He helped her put it back into the frame.

“Thanks,” Anya said.

“Hey, no problem. I actually like this whole having guests thing. Changes things up a bit,” Clem said with a floppy grin.

“It's really nice of you to help Spike take care of the baby,” Anya said, taking a seat on the couch after setting the cushions down.

“Margaret's really grown on me,” Clem replied, sitting down beside her, “and Spike's been a close friend of mine for a few years now. I really didn't mind.”

Anya shrugged. “Well, I know things are different now especially with Buffy being back, but I'd love to watch Margaret, too, if you ever need a break.”

“Spike would be glad to hear that. He was scared Buffy's friends would shun the little one. I think he was even prepared to leave if anyone meant to do any harm to her. He's a great dad.”

The ex-demon nodded. “I think I would have a similar game plan if I were in his place.” She sighed, running a hand through her hair. “I really don't feel like going home.”

Clem brightened. “Breakfast?”

Anya smiled. “Sure.” She followed the demon to the kitchen, helping as he pulled things out of the cabinets.

~~

Xander knocked on the door, grateful when Willow answered. “Hey,” he said.

“Hey,” Willow replied, giving him a sympathetic look. “You look like poop.”

He nodded, wiping his face with his hands. “Is Ahn here by any chance?”

She shook her head. “You want some coffee?”

He shrugged, stepping past her into the house. “Sure, whatever.”

Dawn came downstairs and grabbed some orange juice from the fridge. “I'm going to Spike's after school,” she announced.

“Are you sure that's a good idea?” Xander asked slowly.

She shrugged, giving him a withering look. “Why wouldn't it be? I've been doing it for months. Why would it be any different now?”

“Dawnie, you were doing that right under own noses. To see Margaret, right?” Willow crossed her arms to her chest, then unfolded them, never really feeling like an authoritative figure to Dawn. At the teenager's silence, she went on, “I really don't appreciate you leaving us out like that. Something could've hap--”

“Spike has been with me the entire time. He wouldn't let anything bad happen to me,” Dawn protested. “I'm happy that you guys have been looking after me, and that you bring me to school, Xander, but Spike has been helping, too. Even Tara noticed that he isn't doing evil things anymore. I think we should be giving him more credit.”

Xander snorted. “Give a soulless vampire credit? Dawnie, you should know better than this. You're the Slayer's little sister--”

She stopped him with a challenging look. “And where's my sister right now?”

He grew quiet, averting his gaze and finishing the rest of his coffee. “Well, you ready to head off to school?”

Willow watched them leave, worrying her bottom lip. She jumped when the phone rang, running to answer it. “Hello?”

“How's Buffy doing?” Angel.

The redhead sighed. “I don't know.”

“The Hellmouth?”

“She's started patrolling again, I think. Nothing major,” Willow said, her frustration mounting. “You calling about anything in particular?”

“A little confused, I think,” Angel admitted.

“Boy howdy,” she agreed. “Do you want me to ask Buffy to call you back? She... hasn't been home. But maybe next time I see her?”

“Yeah. I appreciate it.”

Willow hung up the phone, more unnerved than before. She decided to go to the Magic Box and see if she could find Anya for Xander. Only Giles was in, unpacking some boxes.

“Need some help?” Willow asked, wringing her hands.

Giles only nodded, still unable to wholly process just what Willow had been up to the past couple months.

“Has Anya been around?”

He shook his head. “She didn't come in this morning, which is unlike her. However, with everything that's happened, I wouldn't be surprised if she needed a break.”

She bit her lip as she opened another cardboard box. “Do you want me to tag these?”

“Yes, please. The prices and item numbers are listed on that paper on the counter.”

Willow got some twine and rectangular price tags from a drawer behind the counter. They worked quietly for several minutes, the atmosphere still quite tense.

“Willow,” Giles muttered, her name seeming to tumble clumsily from his lips.

The redhead wasted no time in bursting into tears.

“Willow, look at me,” Giles told her. When her teary green eyes met his, he sighed. “I am awfully... Willow, you should have told me about this.”

“I couldn't,” she sobbed.

“We were all still grieving, but I thought that we were dealing with things healthily until... well, until all this happened. I think we've all sort of spilled apart, dealing with our grief in our own ways, some more... extreme than others--”

“Giles, I... don't feel sorry,” Willow admitted, wiping the tears from her face.

“I can see that you're not,” he said coldly. “Have you stopped to think, though, about what repercussions these dark magicks could bring upon us? I am confident that you know well enough what karma is in relation to witchcraft, and whether it can help or harm. Willow, I need you to know that the use of any kind of magick has repercussions. You do know that, don't you? I've at least taught you that?” At Willow's tense silence, he went on, “Perhaps it is not too late for you to seek advice from me. I cannot lie—I, too, am happy to see Buffy alive. But at what cost? Her own happiness? Is her safety at stake? Is ours? We cannot predict what may happen because of your and the others' actions, or what already has. But I need to know now that if or when something does, you will confide in me so that we can fix this together, not because I don't believe you can do it yourself but because you shouldn't have to ever have to deal with things on your own. You are among friends, Willow. Reach out if you must.”

Willow remained silent, her eyes swollen from the tears she'd shed. She finished tagging the items in the box she'd opened before preparing to leave.

“Thanks, Giles,” she said softly before ducking out the door.

~~

“I should go get some of the clothes Whistler dumped in your crypt,” Buffy said, brushing Margaret's hair with a soft bristle brush. “Dawn and I had a lot of hair like this when we were babies. I think my hair was past my shoulders by the time I was two.”

“I'll go with you.”

“We should check with Clem if he's staying in.”

“I could,” Anya said, popping up in their doorway. “I was eavesdropping, obviously. Clem was talking about a round of kitten poker that he got invited to tonight.”

Spike and Buffy looked at one another.

“The guy could use a break,” Spike admitted. “Before you were around, luv, Em basically had two dads.”

Buffy grinned. “Yeah, let's give Clem a break. Anya, you really don't mind? We wouldn't be long. But if you're hungry or anything, we could stop at the store...wait. Do I even have money? I have to stop by the house and--”

“You don't,” Anya said bluntly. “Well, you do. Your dad has been sending sympathy checks to Dawn, and Giles has been overseeing that she put most of it in a bank account under both their names.”

The Slayer paused. “I remember my mom still making mortgage payments on the house. Shit. Does anyone open my mail?”

Anya shrugged. “I didn't really care enough to ask,” she said a little guiltily.

She looked at Spike. “We'll have to stop by the house, too.”

“Niblet'll probably be here straight after school – s'habit. We can ask 'er if someone's been handlin' the mail an' such.”

Buffy sighed. “Alright. I guess I'll wait until Dawn gets here and we'll walk her home, and I'll get the lowdown from... someone.”

When Dawn arrived, she finished her homework and played with Margaret before Clem showed Anya how to put the little one down for a nap. At sundown, Spike and Buffy walked Dawn down to Revello Drive. The older Summers girl mentioned the mortgage bill.

“I didn't even know about the mortgage bill,” Dawn remarked, feeling sorry she couldn't help her sister out more. “Buff, if you want, I can get a job after school and help you with bills...”

“Dawnie, no. That's not necessary. I mean, you could get a job if you wanted, but not to contribute to household stuff. Having big responsibilities when you're a teenager? Major suckage. I know you remember me going through it, but I don't want you to have to if you can help it.”

When they walked through the door, they saw Willow and Tara sitting in the kitchen across from one another, looking as though they were having an intense discussion. The witches looked up, Willow giving them an apprehensive smile while Tara's was more genuine.

“Hey,” Willow said timidly. “What's the what?”

“How's Emmie?” Tara asked Spike.

“Great,” he replied with a grin. “Teethin', the poor thing. Taken to nibblin' my fingers.”

Tara laughed. “You know they have bite rings for that, right?”

“I was actually wondering if you've saved up my mail,” Buffy told Willow. “I remember my mom having mortgage payments and stuff like that, and I'm sure there's the electric and garbage and water bill... Has anyone been paying those off?”

Willow and Tara glanced uncomfortably at Spike. He cleared his throat.

“Well, luv, I've been payin' the utilities.”

Her eyes widened. “What? With what?”

He shrugged. “I'm pretty old. I've got a lot of savings...” he trailed off.

“Spike!” she gasped. “As soon as I get a job you're gonna stop doing that. But... thank you.” She glanced at the redhead. “But the mortgage?”

“I saved up some letters,” Willow said. “I'm not sure what I was gonna do with them. Maybe some of them are from the mortgage company.” She went upstairs to fetch them.

Buffy paled when she saw that the pile Willow was carrying was more than two inches thick. She took it from her, ripping open the first one in the stack. A four figure number glared up at her, bold and red. She took a deep breath and slowly put the pile down. “I... Gotta get a job.”

Buffy was ripping open her seventh letter when Spike put a mug of black coffee in front of her.

“Don' know how you take your coffee,” he said sheepishly.

She looked up at him, giving him a grateful smile. “Thanks, Spike.” She sighed, then rubbed her temples. Her eyebrows had been climbing higher up her forehead all night. “Do any of these companies even know I'm dead?” She paused. “Well, was dead.”

He gave a dry chuckle. “Doesn' seem so.”

She glanced at him. “I had a funeral. Do I have a death certificate?”

He paused. “Your father took care of all o'that.”

Her voice broke. “Am I even going to be able to get a job, let alone find one?”

Spike smelled the tears before they even fell. “Luv--”

“Oh, god. I have to get Dawn to talk to Dad.”

“Sweetheart,” he cut in, cupping her face in his hands, “if you need a job, I can try to find you one. It won' be through completely legal means. There're demons – peaceful ones – who need to operate jus' as any other human does, an' they don' have the pleasure of bein' documented citizens. Before you freak out, let me try.”

She took a deep breath and closed her eyes. After a moment, she nodded. “Okay.”

He sighed and grimaced. “An' if that fails... we could always try Angel. Truth be told, he has more connections to the demon world than I do right now.” He glanced at her. “How do you feel 'bout workin' alongside the demon persuasion, though?”

Buffy took another deep breath. “Right now it doesn't look like I have a choice. If they attack me, well--I kill them. That's just how it works.” She shrugged. “Can we go home?” She reddened. “I mean--Could we... Could we go back to your place? I just... I miss Margaret and...”

He couldn't help the grin that took over his face. “Whatever your heart desires, my love.”

She bowed her head. “Thank you, Spike, for helping me... Why didn't you tell me that you were paying the utilities?” She lowered her voice. “Do you-- Do you even feel comfortable doing that?”

“Luv, as long as Dawn is living under this roof m'comfortable spending any amount of money I can on this place.”

Her face screwed up into a frown. “But I don't understand. They've... The Scoobies... Have they even been nice to you? Willow and Tara have been living here, too. I just don't want you to stretch yourself thin--”

“Tara's been spottin' me some cash every now an' again, an' she helps with groceries. Xander is completely against me havin' any o'my fingers in yer fiscal business, but he's learned to shut up when 'e needs to. 'bout a month ago there was somethin' goin' on with your pipes and the Whelp's been on it, but the pipes are expensive so s'been goin' at a snail's pace.”

Buffy's face fell. “What—what's wrong with the piping?”

“Hasn' seen a speck of maintenance since the house was built.”

She paled. Spike gripped her hands when he noticed her spike in heart rate.

“Luv! Breathe.”

“I don't know if I can do this,” Buffy admitted, her voice small.

“We're goin' to stop talking 'bout this now, a'right?” he said slowly. “Jus' goin' to fold it away and put it off to the side. We'll focus right now on findin' you a place o'employment.”

She wasn't looking at him and her heart was still beating rapidly.

“Luv?” he chanced.

His reaction to catch her was purely instinctual when she passed out and fell out of her chair. Willow and Tara rushed into the kitchen at the sound of the bar stool clattering to the tile floor.

“What happened?” Willow demanded.

“She fainted,” Spike growled, flashing his eyes at her.

“Let's get her onto the couch,” Tara said. She bit her lip as she and Willow followed Spike into the living room, watching as he lowered her onto the furniture. She glanced at Willow before meeting the vampire's eyes. “Do you think we need to leave?” she asked quietly. “Us living here will cost her a lot more than she already owes.”

“I think that's a conversation that you need to have with 'er,” Spike replied. “Jus'... not right now.”

“Sh-She hasn't even been home,” Willow stammered.

“Can you blame 'er for not bein' comfortable here with you lot?” Spike snapped.

The redhead balled her fists. “And what makes it any different with you? Maybe I brought her back from the dead into a situation she'd rather not be in, but what about you? Pressing parenthood on her!” Her voice cracked, and she stood a little straighter. “You're manipulating her! She thinks she has a family with you! You've manipulated all of us!”

“Willow!” Tara gasped.

Tears spilled from the redheaded witch's eyes. “You have another thing coming if you think you can take her away from us.”

Tara pressed her lips together, her nostrils flaring. “Willow, s-stop.”

“Don't tell me he's got his claws hooked in you, too!”

“Willow, we have to go,” Tara ground out, taking her by the arm and directing her toward the door. “Goodnight, Spike,” she said quickly before closing the door behind them.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Spike snarled, sitting at Buffy's feet and digging the heels of his palms into his eyes. He heard footsteps on the staircase and glanced up to see Dawn rubbing the sleep from her eyes.

“Spike?” she inquired.

He waved it off. “Go back to sleep, 'Bit.”

“I don't believe it,” she said resolutely. When he lifted his head to look at her, she went on, “What Willow said. You haven't manipulated any of us.” She bit her lip. “A-At least, not me.”

He sighed and looked up at her. “Thanks,” he muttered. “You got Angel's number?”

Dawn raised her eyebrows. “It's on the caller ID. Why? What's up?”

“Buffy made a good point today. Even if the Council doesn' know that she's technically dead somehow, the registry does. Don' think she'll ever be able to find a job with that pesky death certificate on file. He could help her find one without havin' to go through all that fake ID mumbo jumbo.”

Spike went for the phone and pressed 'call' after searching through the caller ID.

The other line had not even rung twice before someone picked up and uttered, “Buffy?”

Spike twisted his mouth into a grimace. “Spike.”

“Where is she?” Angel demanded.

“Sleeping. Look, mate. 'F you got any connections to businesses here in Sunnydale that're hirin', you'll let Buffy know?”

There was a long pause. “I'll call you back,” he said, understanding. He hung up before Spike did.

~~

Buffy groaned, holding her head in her hands as it pulsed painfully. A glass of water seemed to materialize under her nose and she glanced up gratefully, grasping it between both hands and taking a long sip. “What time is it?” she croaked.

“After two,” Spike replied.

She sat up. “I should really patrol,” she said, leaning over to put the glass on the coffee table.

“Did already,” he said, his eyes meeting hers.

Tears came unbidden. “Spike, you're already doing so much,” she whimpered.

“Let yourself get back on your feet,” he said softly. “Then you can go back to bein' the stubborn Slayer we all know an' love.” He smiled at her and took her hand. “We should probably check on Anya. Or did you want to stay here?”

Buffy gave an enthusiastic shake of her head. “A world of no.” She glanced around. “Is everyone asleep?”

He nodded. “Tara an' Willow had to step out for a little while this evening, but they came back and went to bed 'bout an hour ago. Dawn's been asleep for a while.”

She nodded. “I'm gonna come back here later and talk to Dawn. I really need to figure out all of this death certificate stuff.”

“I called Angel,” Spike said. At her surprised look, he scowled. “I tol' you he might be able to find you a job. He's workin' on it and he'll give you a call soon.”

She sighed. “Okay.”

“Let's check on our girl an' get you back into bed,” Spike suggested.

Buffy wordlessly nodded. She looked up at him shyly as he weaved his fingers through hers. He smiled and nudged her with his shoulder as they began their short walk to Clem's apartment building.

When they arrived, they found Anya to be fast asleep with Margaret's bassinet parked close to the pullout bed.

“She's really gettin' too big for that bassinet already,” Spike said sourly.

Buffy came up from behind him and rested her chin on his shoulder. “She's gotta grow sometime,” she teased.

“Not if I can help it,” he said, smiling back. He turned around and pressed his lips to hers. “Love you,” he breathed.

“It scares me just how much,” she admitted.

Spike took her hand and led her to their bedroom. “Let me hold you, luv?”

She smiled shyly. “Of course,” she murmured, settling down beside him. She leaned into his side, both of them sinking into the mattress.

Spike watched her close her eyes, her breaths deepening seconds later.

~~

“Thanks for watching Margaret for us,” Buffy said, enveloping Anya in a tight hug.

“Are you sure you don' want any compensation?” Spike asked.

Anya shook her head, removing the paper from a medium-sized chocolate chip muffin that Clem had brought earlier that morning. “No. You've already done enough letting me crash here for two days.” She shrugged. “Plus, I should be heading back home. Xander doesn't know the number here and he ought to be worried.” She smiled at the baby sitting in her high chair. “Margaret was very good company for someone with no vocabulary.”

Spike laughed. “That she is.” The phone began to ring in the living room. The bleach blond frowned. “Who the bloody...” He picked up the receiver. “'lo?”

“I found Buffy a job,” Angel said on the other line. “Can I speak to her?”

“Luv, it's the great poof,” Spike muttered, handing her the phone.

“Hello?” Buffy said, putting the phone to her ear.

“Hey,” Angel said. “How are you?”

“You have no idea,” she laughed, then sighed. “Please tell me something good.”

“I found you a security job at a pretty high profile apartment building.”

Buffy raised her eyebrows. “Huh. What's the catch?”

“Most of the residents are nocturnal and, uh, demonic. They've suffered some day looting very recently. Guess someone's figured out their sleeping patterns.”

Her eyebrows climbed higher. “Really? That's it?”

“And I'd like for you to have dinner with me,” Angel said quickly. “No pressure. I just want to talk.”

Buffy seemed to physically deflate. Across the room, Spike growled. “Angel...” she trailed off.

He cleared his throat on the other line. “I didn't think it was asking too much.”

She took a deep breath, anxiety filling her. “When?”

~~

A week later, Buffy was sliding into a booth at a diner close to Restfield Cemetery. Angel was across from her, his hands folded on the table.

“This doesn't seem very fair, you know,” Buffy remarked. When he opened his mouth to reply, she went on, “Why does this even matter to you?”

“Buffy, five months ago you were dead,” he deadpanned.

“I'm the Slayer. Death is pretty much established in my job description,” she replied, just as deadpan. “Why is this your business? Why do you think you're obligated to ask me how I am? What will it matter if I told you that the mortgage is eight hundred dollars a month or that for the first time ever I find myself incapable of trusting my friends but find myself completely at ease around two soulless demons? Or that Margaret wants Spike more than me when she's upset and it feels like absolute shit? Tell me. What does it matter?” She took a deep breath, raising her eyebrows and upturning her palms. “Got any sage advice? Or are you gonna get up and will yourself out of my life again because that's what you see fit?”

He looked uncomfortable. “Buffy--”

She sighed. “Thanks for the job, Angel. But I really don't have anything to say to you. Not anything that you feel you'd be able to fix, anyway.” She blew a strand of hair out of her face, glanced at the menu, and then at him. “Does this still come with dinner?”

Angel rapped his fingers on the table, looking heatedly at the empty booth in front of him.

“Looks like it didn't go so well, mate,” Spike remarked as he took a seat across from his grandsire.

The older vampire scowled. “Do you have to be a pest right this instant?”

Spike continued to stare at him as a waiter came by to take Buffy's empty dishes and refill Angel's coffee cup. “Think lactatin' is doin' somethin' to her. Makin' up for all the hormones she didn't have what with her nonexistent pregnancy.”

Angel sighed. “You're enjoying this.”

He shrugged. “I've always enjoyed a little bit of schadenfreude, especially if it's yours. But right now m'askin' you to go a little easier on her.”

The dark haired vampire made a sour face and leaned in to growl at him. “Last time I checked, you're not her keeper. Looking for some codependent fun with another pretty little birdie? I'm afraid Buffy is nothing like Dru.”

“No, I'm not her keeper! I'm her equal! And it bloody bothers you, doesn' it?” Spike grinned.

“Who're you gonna run to when this all blows up in your face?” Angel asked, lowering his voice. “When Buffy gets out of whatever rut she's in and realizes how completely worthless your company is? What do you think you can do for her that I can't?”

The bleach blond's eyes darkened. “Get 'er off without snapping her neck after one second, for starters.”

Angel laughed. “Like she can't find that anywhere.”

Spike sucked his breath through his teeth. Angel sent him a dark smile. The other vampire slammed a steel toe boot between his open legs, grinning as his grandsire's eyes crossed at the pain. Angel growled and ripped the table from where it was bolted to the floor, crashing it down onto Spike's head. Both of them stopped at the sound of a waitress screaming.

Angel gave her a guilty look. “Uh, I'll write you a check for the damages.”

The two of them strode awkwardly outside after Angel left the owner his business card. Spike wiped blood out of his eyes and Angel doubled over in pain.

“Was lovely catchin' up, but I gotta head back,” Spike said sarcastically.

Angel cleared his throat, still wincing. “I'll be sending Buffy a check.”

The younger vamp growled. “What the bloody hell are you pullin' at?”

“She needs the money,” Angel insisted. “Let me give it to her.”

“Is that how you're helpin' the helpless now? Throwin' money at 'em an' callin' it even?”

“Just shut the hell up, Spike, and let me help,” his grandsire growled.

Spike glowered, watching him limp to his car. He remained where he was until he saw for sure that Angel was heading for the interstate before making his own painful way home.

“Spike!” Buffy gasped when he walked through the door.

He swiped at the air casually. “S'nothin',” he grumbled, going for the linen closet to get a washcloth.

She took it from him with a glare, running it under hot water at the sink and dabbing at his head wound. She gasped again. “Spike, I can see your skull!” She put the towel in his hand. “Do you have a first aid kit? You're going to need some serious stitches.”

Spike sighed. “Bathroom under the sink,” he muttered, sinking into the couch.

“What happened?” she asked curiously as she returned with the med kit.

“Hopin' one of Angel's balls've fallen off by now,” Spike remarked.

She could swear it was reflex when she knocked him upside the skull. “I oughta leave you to stitch this up by yourself!”

“'E started it!” Spike howled as she passed the sewing needle through his skin. “Bloody—Could give a man some warning--”

“This is so typical of you guys,” Buffy snarled. “Maybe I should just let you guys go at it.” She paused.

Spike's eyes widened when he smelled her arousal. “You're sick.”

She blushed, silently finishing up on his wound. He sighed, tugging her on his lap after she had put all the sharp objects away.

“Thanks, luv,” he said softly, resting his chin over her shoulder.

“What were you guys fighting about?”

He maneuvered her on his lap so that she was cradled in his arms and facing him. He pressed his lips to hers, sliding his hand up the inside of her thigh as he deepened the kiss. Buffy melted into him, raising her hips as he slid her zipper down. She cupped his face, opening her eyes when he withdrew.

“This... This isn't all this is, is it?” Spike asked, panting.

She frowned, catching on. “What is it that he said to you?”

“Buffy--”

She shook her head. “No... No, Spike.” She looked up at him shyly through her lashes. “Can we please continue where we left off, though?”

He chuckled, tightening his arms around her. “Like it when you're polite, Slayer.” He continued to look into her eyes as he slid his hand down the front of her underwear, his middle finger slipping inside of her as he pressed his palm into her pelvic bone.

They both went completely limp when Margaret started to cry in the other room. Buffy laughed, and Spike couldn't help but smile at her as she removed herself from his lap to tend to their daughter.

“Hi, love bug,” Buffy said with a pout, picking up the small girl. “Mommy and Daddy were kind of in the middle of something.”

It took over an hour to feed her and put her back to sleep soundly enough to lower her back into her crib. Buffy sighed, shaking her head wearily as she felt as though she was floating into the bathroom. She felt rather than saw Spike materialize behind her, sliding his arms around her middle.

Buffy smiled and hummed when she heard Spike undoing his zipper, shimmying out of her pajama pants and letting it drop to the floor. They both let out a sigh and a chuckle as he filled her from behind. She leaned forward, her hands bracing the sink as he pressed into her.

“So wet,” Spike gasped, biting her shoulder with blunt teeth.

“Spike!” she keened, quivering. Her eyes rolled back in her head as he withdrew only to slam into her. She couldn't help but watch her reflection as her lips became arduously swollen and trembled as he continued to thrust into her and press the head of his cock against her cervix with every stroke. “Please! Please...”

“Tell me what you need,” Spike hissed in her ear.

“Stay! Stay... Like that...” she whispered urgently, clutching at his buttocks as he sheathed himself all the way inside of her. “Mmmmmnaahhh! Oh! Oh god!”

Spike pressed himself in between her legs and ground his hips, the both of them bowed over the sink, Buffy's forehead pressed against the mirror.

“Gonna...! Spike!” she squeaked.

He moaned as she squeezed tight, emptying his load just as she came with a shout. He breathed a sigh against her neck, tickling the hairs at the base of her skull. Buffy leaned her head back into his collar bone, smiling as he pressed a kiss to her throat.

“The li'l bit is gonna need her own room faster than I thought,” Spike chuckled.

“I was thinking about that,” Buffy replied, turning her head to look back at him. “What do you think of you guys coming home with me?”

Spike was speechless. He wrapped his arms tightly around her instead, burying his face in her hair.

She giggled. “Spike?”

“Yes, luv?” he murmured, kissing the top of her hair.

Buffy pouted. “My ribs are getting bruised by the sink.”

He withdrew quickly. “M'sorry, sweetheart.” He pressed a long kiss to the side of her neck. He palmed the toilet paper roll and ripped off a few sheets, kissing her cheek as he gently wiped between her legs.

Her breath hitched. She turned around to face him, sliding her arms around his neck and pressing in close. He kissed her forehead as he tossed the used toilet paper into a wastebasket to the right of them. “I start work tomorrow,” she said, tucking the top of her head under his chin. “I'll miss you,” she said softly.

Spike chuckled. “I'll miss you, too, luv.” He kissed the top of her head again. “What say we get into bed?”

She smiled. “Okay.”

Spike felt elated as they climbed into bed together with her fitting so perfectly against his side. He grinned as her soft snores met the air, and he gathered her to him in a tight embrace before falling asleep himself.

In the morning Spike awoke to the smell of coffee and the sound of only one quick, young heartbeat in the bedroom. Margaret hadn't woken again that evening and had slept through the night, and was sleeping still. He smiled down at the little girl in her crib, caressing the curls around her forehead before making his way into the kitchen.

Buffy was rubbing an eye with her fist as she poured herself another cup.

Spike put his palm over the rim of her cup, lowering her grip of it back onto the counter as he greeted her with a kiss. Buffy abandoned the mug and slid her arms around him, sighing happily when he embraced her.

“Mornin', petal,” he murmured against her lips.

“Hi,” she said dreamily.

“Leavin' soon?”

She nodded. “Yeah, in twenty minutes.” She glanced at the cupboards. “We need anything?”

“I can get 'em all tonight,” he said with a shrug.

“I could come with you,” she replied with a shrug of her own.

He caressed her forearm, dragging a fingertip up and down the expanse of skin. “When did you want to move back home?”

“Maybe after I get used to the routine at work. Did you bring Margaret there a lot? Is she familiar with the Revello house?”

He nodded. “Yeah, she's slept in the Bit's room before when I've needed to go out patrollin' when Clem was away for some reason or another.”

When Buffy left for work, Spike meandered into their bedroom to find Margaret lifting herself on her hands and knees, peering at him through the slats in her crib. He grinned at her, picking her up and peppering kisses all along her face and throat. She giggled and tried to shy away.

“Hullo, luv,” he murmured affectionately.

Margaret's tiny hands found his face, resting on either cheek. He touched his forehead to hers. She began to open and close her fist in the sign for milk, and he chuckled and whisked her away to the kitchen.

“Mmmmmm,” she sighed and suckled as he put the bottle to her mouth.

“Kinda missed it when it was jus' you an' me,” he remarked. “Don' tell mum, though.”

Dawn came to visit after noon. She cradled Margaret in her arms on the couch, cooing at her and kissing her. Spike returned from the kitchen, sitting down next to them. He smiled.

“How's she doing?” the younger Summers asked gently.

Spike nodded. “Better. She's thinkin' of movin' back home.”

The teenager beamed, glowing. “Really?!” she squealed.

“She wants us to come with her,” he said cautiously.

Dawn giggled, bringing Margaret's face up to hers. “That would be soooo great! I'd get this cuddle bug to myself way more often!” She glanced at Spike when her remark was met with silence. “Spike? Why the long face?”

“Still don' feel right havin' her so close to Red. She's been hostile.”

“Has Buffy talked about Willow and Tara staying?”

He shook his head. “No. Don' want to push it. She's already got enough on her plate, an' I don' want to rush her.”

She nodded, biting her lip. “Everything's alright?”

Spike sighed. “For now, I s'pose.”

“What is it?” she asked, cuddling her niece to her as a feeling of dread started to fill her stomach. She smiled a watery smile at Margaret, who was tangling her tiny fingers in her hair.

“Nothin' to worry about,” he said, sounding distracted. He smiled when the infant in Dawn's arms twisted around to look at his face. He kissed her on the nose.

“You're obviously worried about something,” Dawn urged, looking at him in concern. “If it's not Willow, what? What is it?”

He growled in annoyance. Margaret whimpered, and Dawn shot him a withering look before gently patting the baby in her arms. “Jus' leave it for now, alright?”

“Fine,” she huffed. “When's Buffy getting off work?”

“Round six. You'll be here?”

She nodded. “Yeah. I wanted to see her.”

“Your homework's all finished up?”

Dawn rolled her eyes. “Yes, dad.”

“Alright,” he said, wiping his face with his hands. “You'll be alright? M'gonna get some kip.”

She smiled at him. “Yeah.” She watched him disappear into the bedroom before glancing at Margaret. “What's going on with that daddy of yours, huh?”

Margaret giggled.

“Let's go read some books,” she said gleefully, sitting down with her on the floor and getting the board books under the coffee table.

That's how Buffy found them later, Dawn lying on her side on the floor with a bowl of Easy Mac while Margaret tinkered with one of her toys.

“How'd it go?” Dawn asked, licking the spoon.

“Exhaustingly boring,” Buffy groaned, going to the kitchen to wash her hands before sitting beside them. She smiled when Margaret greeted her happily, pulling her onto her lap.

“Can I ask you something?” Dawn glanced at her big sister, watching her interact with her daughter.

“Shoot,” she replied, getting her hair out of Margaret's mouth. “Mommy's hair does not taste good, love bug,” she said, wrinkling her nose.

“What's up with Spike? He seemed a little... I dunno.”

The older girl rolled her eyes. “I think he and Angel got into it. He didn't expand on it, though. Came back to the apartment with a head wound so big his skull was visible.”

Dawn winced. “Jeez. What the hell?”

Buffy shrugged. “I had dinner with Angel last night, and not entirely willing either. That probably had something to do with it. But he got me the job, and in exchange he wanted to talk.”

“Anything exciting?” Dawn asked sarcastically.

“Nah.” She suddenly looked guilty. “I think I kinda laid on the bitter before he could actually get a word in.”

Her little sister frowned. “Why?”

She sighed, running her fingers through her hair. “I dunno. He just always seems to come to my rescue, you know? And this time I might have actually needed it, and I didn't want to need it. He has a way of making me feel like a teenager again, and not even in a romantic or nostalgic way. I used to invite it, but this time it felt like he was...encroaching on my life.” She shrugged. “It's not that I'm not grateful for finding me a job.”

Dawn didn't know what to say. She was silent for a while, scraping the cheese from her bowl. “Spike said you were thinking of moving back home?” she asked, sounding hopeful.

Buffy smiled at her. “Yeah.”

“What about Tara and Willow?”

“I have to talk to them. If they want to stay there they have to help. We're totally broke, Dawnie. And Spike told me about the pipes. How much has Xander been able to get done?”

“Not much,” she replied regretfully. “Sometimes they leak in the basement. We turn the water off at night just in case. He said the whole thing needs to get redone.”

She pushed the hair away from her face. “I need to go to the mortgage company sometime this week. I have no idea how to do any of this.”

Dawn glanced at her sister, who looked on the verge of a breakdown. She covered her hand with her own. “I wish I knew what to do.”

“Me too,” Buffy said, lowering her gaze. “I wish mom was here.”

“Did you--” Dawn bit her lip. “Did you see mom?”

“Everything's beginning to fade,” her older sister admitted. “I don't know anymore. I just remember I felt happy. And... done. At peace.”

Dawn squeezed her hand. “I'm sorry.”

Buffy nodded. “Me too, a little. But I'm happy I get to see you again, Dawnie. I'm sorry I haven't...I guess since I came back I haven't really been there. I haven't gone home, or made time to see you. I feel like I've just been freaking out. But I do love you. You know that, right?”

Tears collected in the younger Summers' eyes. “Oh, Buffy...” She wrapped her arms around her and started to cry.

Buffy sniffled, wiping away a tear with the back of her hand. Margaret looked on in curiosity, putting her tiny hand in her mother's lap.

“Everythin' alright?”

The two girls looked up to find Spike appear in the bedroom doorway, concern etched into his features.

Buffy smiled through her tears. “Yeah.” She nudged Dawn. “We're good.”

“I need help.”

Willow sat up attentively from her spot at the round table in the middle of the shop. “Anything, Buffy.”

Buffy took a deep breath. “If you're going to live at the house at Revello I'm going to need your help financially.”

The redhead put on her resolve face. “I can do that. That, I can do. And I'll talk to Tara, too.”

“Great,” Buffy said with a nervous smile, “because I was thinking that I might just have to sell it if I don't make enough cash for the mortgage.”

Giles resurfaced from the basement. “What is it you're trying to do, Buffy?”

She smiled shyly. “Finances.”

“Ah,” he said, giving her a kind smile. “Why don't you come sit?”

She followed him with her eyes as he retrieved a stack of papers from behind the counter, eagerly sitting down beside him when he made his way to the table. “What are these?” she asked, curious.

“Well, since your funeral I've kept a close rapport with your father. He has been sending Dawn a check every month and I've convinced her to put it away.” He handed her a bank statement.

“Wow,” Buffy gasped, looking at the numbers. She glanced at him, then shook her head. “Giles, this is Dawn's money. I'm not taking it. If he does this for the rest of his life, this could pay her way through college. And then some. Lots of somes.”

He chuckled. “I understand. What I'm trying to tell you is that you needn't worry about Dawn.” He glanced at her and then at Willow. “Why don't we try to figure out a budget between all of you?”

“Spike's moving in, too,” Buffy said resolutely. At Willow's shocked look, she declared, “He's been paying for utilities. And he's Margaret's father.” She grew quiet, averting her gaze. “And I kind of love him?”

“Buffy--” Willow edged in.

“Wills, there are crazy things happening to my body. For one, I'm lactating. If she wasn't my baby, I don't think I'd--” She silenced herself. “I just don't understand why I need to explain myself.”

“You don't,” Giles said kindly.

“Any objections?” Buffy asked Willow authoritatively. “If you do, you can't stay at the house. Not even one. If protecting my family means I have to ward off feelings of hostility, I'll do it. I have to. I already deal with enough external evils as it is and I don't--” She shook her head and took a deep breath. “I need a clean slate, a clean record. Especially if there's a social worker coming to the house at odd hours of the day. Who is Dawn's legal guardian?”

“You,” Willow said quietly.

“What? I've been dead--”

“When the social worker comes, we turn on the Buffybot,” Willow admitted.

The Slayer looked slowly at Willow and then at Giles. “What?” she asked again.

“The bot also went on patrols,” Giles said quietly.

“And PTA meetings,” Willow said, shrinking in her seat.

“I don't have to remind you that the Buffybot is, uh, extremely Spike friendly?” Buffy said, wincing.

“She is that,” Willow agreed with a nod, “but I've reprogrammed her to do other things. It was hard, but it was mostly to uphold appearances. Somehow after you died, the demon population hadn't made the connection.”

Buffy glanced at Giles.

“It was out of pure luck that no one was told that the Slayer had passed,” the Watcher said. “It made things much easier than it should have been.”

Buffy was quiet for a moment. She took a deep breath and looked at Willow. “So. Objections?”

The witch worried her lip. “I'm sorry, Buffy. I've got many.” She stood, her hands shaking as she stepped away from the table. “I'll just...pack my things, okay?”

Buffy paled as Willow stole out of the shop. Giles sighed and clasped her hand.

“What--” Belatedly, Buffy shook her head. “What was that?”

“That was you creating boundaries,” he said softly, “and I'm very proud of you.”

She took a deep breath, tears collecting in her eyes. Giles waited while she wiped them away and then pulled her chair closer to the table.

“Do you still want to discuss your finances?” he asked, gathering his charge to him in a gentle hug.

She sniffled once, then nodded. “Yes.”

~~

Spike watched, bemused, as the Slayer dusted another vampire with nary a quip. “Luv?”

She glanced up, her guilty expression indicating that she'd forgotten he was there. Which was a feat, in and of itself. “What?”

He smiled at her affectionately, palming her cheek. “Where'd you go, pet?”

Buffy sighed, leaning into his hand. “Willow moved out.”

He raised his eyebrows.

“I told her you were moving in,” she explained quietly.

He looked shocked. He swallowed. “An' Glinda?” He swallowed again.

She shrugged. “I haven't seen her today.”

Spike tugged her into his arms, stroking her back as she buried her face in his neck. He ran his fingers through her hair when he smelled her tears, clucking his tongue.

“Spike,” she sobbed.

He pulled back to look at her face, gently kissing her mouth. “Luv,” he murmured, wiping her tears with the pads of his thumbs. “Come,” he said, his voice soft as he took her hand, “we're done.”

Buffy let him lead her back to Clem's. Dawn took one look at them when they came through the door and swallowed her sister in a hug.

“What's wrong?” she asked, her voice hushed and urgent.

She shook her head. “I'm coming home.” She sighed. “But Wills moved out.”

Dawn clenched her fists. “Why?”

“I asked her if she had any objections toward Margaret, and Spike. I told her if she had even one she couldn't stay at the house. She said she had many, and then she left to pack.” She shrugged helplessly, her bottom lip quivering.

“That's ridiculous!” Dawn nearly shrieked. “That's—She knew Spike was paying for the gas and stuff. How's this any different? God, she's such a hypocrite! I don't--” Flabbergasted, Dawn shook. She sighed, shaking her head. “If they don't stay, why don't we ask Clem if he wants to stay at the house? He's helped us so much and it just doesn't seem fair to leave him behind...” She glanced at Buffy and Spike.

Spike raised his eyebrows. “That doesn't seem like a bad idea. Em would love havin' him around.”

Buffy smiled weakly. “You have no objections from me.” She glanced at Dawn. “She asleep?”

“Yeah. I noticed she's been falling asleep around eight. Does she wake up for you anytime during the night?”

She shook her head. “Sometimes. She's slept through the night a couple of times now, but she's an early riser.”

Dawn grinned. “Oh, great. That means I'll actually get some shuteye when you guys finally move in.”

Spike rolled his eyes. “You talk like you had to wake up every two hours to feed the little monster.”

“Hey, vampire! You weren't even asleep!” Dawn remarked, poking him in the chest.

“Alright, it's your bedtime. M'gonna drive the Niblet home, luv,” Spike said, kissing Buffy on the temple.

Buffy hugged her sister tightly. “See you soon.”

When Spike arrived back at the apartment, he found Buffy sitting on the couch worrying her thumbnail. “You broodin', luv?” he teased, sitting beside her and kissing her cheek.

She sighed, glancing at him. “Just don't know what Willow's deal is.” She sighed again, happier this time, as he moved down to kiss her throat. She clambered onto his lap and pressed her mouth flush against his, then buried her face in his chest.

Spike kissed the top of her head. “It really meant a lot to me, luv.”

Buffy glanced up and smiled at him. “Need the whole family together,” she said shyly.

He grinned, kissing her sweetly. “You have no idea how wonderful that sounds to me, Buffy.”

“I have an idea,” Buffy giggled, undoing his belt buckle.

He smirked at her with hooded eyes. “What're you up to there, kitten?”

She giggled again, moving off his lap as she carefully undid his zipper. His erection popped into view and she couldn't help but caress it lovingly. She watched his eyes fall closed, smiling as she bent to kiss the head.

His lips parted in a gasp as her tongue darted out to taste him. He took her hand and licked her palm, moaning when she then wrapped it around his cock. “Fuck, Buffy,” he sighed when she took his head into her mouth. He reached down as far as he could to cup her ass, running his finger between her cheeks to trace over her slit through her jeans.

“Luv, take these off,” he said desperately, trying to push her pants down with one hand.

She withdrew from his erection with a wet pop, pouting. “But I--”

“Please,” he begged.

Buffy gave a shy smile, standing from the couch to unbutton her jeans. He trailed his hands down wherever she exposed her skin as she pushed them down her legs along with her underwear.

“Come lie down here,” he all but moaned, scooting over.

She did as he requested, biting her lip as he ushered her to rest her head on the arm of the couch. He spread her legs wide, lovingly tracing her folds with gentle fingers. She arched her back as he slipped his index finger into her pussy, staring heatedly into her eyes as he rubbed her gspot while pressing on her clit with his thumb.

“Spike!” she cried. She threw her head back when he added another finger.

He withdrew his fingers to grab her hips, pulling her down the length of the couch. She whimpered when he spit in his hand and grabbed his dick, stroking himself before nestling it between her thighs. She was still lying with her legs held loosely to her chest when he pushed his head in, stretching her entrance teasingly before moving back out.

“Unh...”

He did it again, each stroke dipping him further into her pussy before withdrawing once more. She pitched her hips upwards.

“Spike, please!”

He smirked at her. “Love the feel of you tightening around my cock again and again. Cor, it feels so good...”

He gripped her hips, both of them gasping as he slammed in to the hilt. She let out a piercing cry as he ground his hips, his cock nudging her cervix.

“So good...” she agreed, nodding helplessly, her cheeks tinged pink as she quaked around him. She flinched when he traced his finger around her nipple through the fabric of her shirt. “S-Sorry, they're really sore...”

“M'sorry, luv,” he gasped, bending down to kiss her.

“Love you,” Buffy whimpered against his mouth, kissing him back.

Spike came, grunting against her lips. He gathered her to him in a tight embrace, relishing the feel of her stomach rising and falling against his. He pressed a kiss to her forehead, grinning. “Fancy a shower?”

She smiled. “Yes, please.” She glanced between them, casting him a guilty glance. “Um, but maybe we should clean Clem's couch first.”

Spike howled in laughter. They stumbled into the bathroom after wiping up their mess, the vampire aiding Buffy in removing the rest of her clothing. She smiled at him as she pushed his jeans down, and he sat down on the toilet to comfortably kick them off. She bit her bottom lip as she straddled his lap, and Spike wasted no time in positioning his already hard cock between the apex of her thighs.

Buffy sighed as she bore down on his erection, sliding her legs around his middle. He put his hands on her hips, staying them as he thrust up into her. She shuddered and moaned in his lap, then screamed when he gently lapped at her nipple.

“Cor, squeeze that pretty cunny around me again. Please,” he begged, kissing her deeply.

She whimpered, moving against him as she clenched around his cock.

“Yeah! Fuck!” he hissed fiercely, tugging her flush against him. He gently kissed the tops of her breasts, running his hands up and down her back. “Can't get enough of you.”

“Know what you mean,” Buffy gasped. “Spike...” She put her feet on either side of him for leverage, sinking herself down and up on his cock, throwing her head back at the feel of his member rubbing her sensitized flesh. “Gonna...”

He slammed his hips up just as she bore down, the both of them seeing stars as they rode out their orgasms.

After several long moments, Spike gently lifted her, cradling her in his arms as he bent to get the water running. She gave a content sigh as she lowered her legs so they could climb into the shower without tripping over one another.

“Love you,” she whispered hoarsely. She blinked and gave him an amused look when his erection bobbed up again.

He smirked, which fell as his mouth dropped open as she began to lather it with soap, stroking him with her slippery hands. “Insatiable, are you?”

She laughed. “I could say the same for you.”

He grinned, bending to kiss her. “Yeah.”

“More?” she whimpered, sinking into him, looking up at him beseechingly.

He lifted her in his arms, his hands gripping the undersides of her thighs as he immediately sank her down on his swollen cock. “How can I say no to that?” he murmured, pressing a sweet kiss to her lips. “Fuck, you feel good.”

She nodded, biting her lip. “Good,” she agreed with a whimper, squeezing around him on every downward thrust. “More! Spike, please!” She pitched her hips feverishly against him, whining when he barely moved.

He looked at her with hooded eyes. “Wanna see you get off on my dick first,” he murmured.

She met his gaze, her teeth worrying her lip so hard she began to break skin. He moaned, sucking it into his mouth. “Bite,” she whispered. “Please.”

Spike's eyes widened. “Buffy?”

“Please, want your... Please.” She writhed against him, baring her throat to him.

“You don' know what you're askin',” he enthused. “If I--”

She nodded, pouting. “Yes! Please, Spike? I'm yours.”

He didn't need to be told twice. He turned, slamming his cock all the way to the hilt as he slowly, lovingly bit down onto her neck. She squeaked and moved fervently against him, melting against his hard body. “Mine!” he roared against her skin, making her shiver.

“Yours!” she cried. Suddenly she bit down on his throat, gasping as he slammed her into the wall, pistoning his hips with inhuman speed and strength. “Mine?” she asked shyly when he stopped abruptly, looking into his eyes.

“Yours. Fucking yours,” he groaned, coming into her depths.

Buffy flinched when the water turned cold. He chuckled breathlessly, turning her away from the spray.

She smiled goofily. “I think I could sleep for seventeen hours now.”

He laughed. “Sleep? Was jus' gettin' started, luv.”

The Slayer pouted. “In the bathroom all night? Clem'll be home soon...”

Spike kissed her soundly, chortling. “Alright, alright. To bed with you.” He turned off the water and grabbed the towel hanging off the rack, swaddling her in it.

“We didn't get much cleaning done,” she said meekly.

“Expected that,” he replied with a smirk.