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Author's Chapter Notes:
Let me know if you like it and if I should continue it!
Prologue


"Angel, did you make sure to get orange juice?" Buffy O' Connor asked her husband as she carried the laundry basket from the cellar across the kitchen and toward the stairs. She stopped, holding the basket on one hip as she watched her husband unload the groceries.

"Yes, dear," he said, a little too snidely for her taste.

"Whatever. I just want to make sure since your daughter ran out this morning," Buffy snapped before continuing on. "Plus I'm sure your guests would enjoy it with breakfast!" she called over her shoulder as she trudged up the stairs grumbling under her breath about ungrateful husbands. Where was it written that he couldn't get the groceries once in a while? Just because she had opted to stay home and take care of Lindsey, putting her own goals to the side, did not mean that he didn't have any responsibility at all. "Because that's what I want to do—become Donna Reed. Should I have his slippers and robe out for him when he comes home? Get a pipe ready and his paper? I don't think so."

"Momma, what are you grumbling about?" Lindsey, her daughter asked her with her hands on her hips, already displaying that rebellious disposition she knew so well in her father. And well, her.

"Nothing. baby. Want to help me set up the guest room for Uncle William and his friend Fred?" she asked, sitting down with a tired sigh on the guest room bed. She tied her golden hair back hastily with the hair tie wrapped around her wrist and leaned back a little on the bed, yawning.

Lindsey's green eyes widened, "Uncle William is staying in here with a MAN?"

Buffy couldn't help but laugh at her daughter's shocked expression. For four, she was quick tocatch on to things. "No, honey. Fred is a girl. Her real name is, uh. . . I think Winifred. They call her that for short. You know like we call you Lindz."

"Daddy calls me ‘short stack'. So do you sometimes."

"Right. See? Everyone has a nickname. Do you know what they used to call Uncle William in college?"

"What?" Lindsey asked as if Buffy were about to tell her a juicy secret.

"Spike."
Lindsey wrinkled her cute button nose, very similar to her mothers – in fact, much wasn't like Buffy looks wise. Though her attitude was definitely more like her fathers.

"Why did they call him that?"

"Why indeed, nibblet," came a deep British voice punctuated with humor.

Both girls looked up to see William Bradley, or, Uncle William standing the doorway a big smile splitting his handsome face. His hair was still the same platinum blond Buffy remembered from college; however, gone was the trademark black he used to wear from head to toe. Now he wore regular blue jeans and a navy t-shirt, a short, worn leather jacket completing the new ‘relaxed William' and replacing ‘punk Spike.'

Buffy's heart jumped at the sight of him and she smiled as she watched Lindsey run to him. William kneeled down and caught her, Lindsey nearly knocking him over with the force of her hug.

Lindsey looked over at her mother. "Uncle William calls me ‘nibblet'." She hugged William tightly before looking at him inquisitively. "Is your friend Fred here?"

William nodded, beaming at the little tot. "She is. Would you like to meet her? She's talking to your Da."

Lindsey rolled her eyes. "It's DAD, Uncle William, not DA." She shook her head at him and waltzed out of the room in search of the mystery guest Fred.

Will stood, gazing at Buffy. "Hello, luv."

Buffy stood and smiled at him, "Hi Will. How was your trip?" she asked as she dug into the laundry basket and extracted the sheets for the bed.

"Fine. Don't I get a hug?" he asked lightly.

She swallowed, "Oh, sorry, of course." She crossed the room to him and wrapped her arms stiffly around his neck, patted his back and pulled away quickly. "We weren't expecting you for at least another couple hours. I was just about to set the room up." She grabbed the sheets. "See? Fresh sheets and everything."

Will sighed heavily, "Buffy, stop."

"Stop what?" her forced chipperness faltered, her smile wilting.

"The act. Why can't we get past this?"

Buffy shook her head, "I don't know what you mean."

"Buffy," he said softly, taking a step towards her. "Every time we're alone it's forced and fake. . . It never used to be like this. We're friends still, right?"

Buffy looked down and nodded, "Yes Will. We are. I'm sorry, I just—"

"Ssshhh," he placed a finger on her lips, his blue eyes sparkling brightly as he gazed upon her. "Let's just put it in the past where it belongs. It all worked out all right in the end didn't it?"

Buffy nodded, "It has, it really has."

"How ‘bout a real hug then?" he grinned.

Nodding, she wrapped her arms around him, this time with more ease than before. He held her to him, a friendly hug between old friends. He was the first to break the hug and Buffy wondered if she held on too long and she immediately berated herself for it.

"Let me make up this bed and I'll come downstairs to meet your girl," Buffy told him, busying herself once more with the making of the bed, not daring to look up at him.

"Okay, pet. Whenever you're ready," he said gently and walked out of the room, hands dug in his jacket pockets.

Shaking her head, Buffy focused on her task, pep talking herself to what was sure to be an eventful weekend.

Eventful and William "Spike" Bradley seemed to go hand in hand.



Chapter One

***********************************************************************
"Don't leave me, please," he pleaded, holding onto her tiny form possessively.

"I have to," she said, "I have no choice."

"We can get married. Fuck them, we'll just run away," he pleaded desperately, feeling his life drain from him. Without her . . . without her he had nothing.

"At sixteen? We can't do that. You don't think my parents would have you locked up?"

"We'd be bound—"

"Where? By the time we made it somewhere where it was legal, you'd be locked up and then I'd be locked up and never allowed to see you again. We have to be logical." Even if it was killing her slowly.

He pressed his forehead against hers. "I love you," he said, tears following splashing onto her face.

"I love you too," she whispered, trying to be strong. For him. "When we turn eighteen, we'll be together. We can call and write and –"

"Hey, let's go," her father barked at her.
She looked over at her father, his distaste at seeing his daughter in the arms of a boy he didn't care for, evident.

"Be right there dad," she called over to him, her voice cracking with emotion. This was it. The end. No, not the end. A hiatus-- because she would not and could not lose him.

He squeezed his eyes shut, the way he did when he wanted to block out things that were unpleasant to him. He gripped her arms tightly. "I'll miss you every second."

"It won't be forever. Just two years. Just two years and we'll be together as we're meant to be." She kissed him deeply, passionately and quickly, not wanting to linger on the pain. "See you later," she whispered and ran off to her father, climbing into the backseat. They started down the road and she waved to him madly, tears seeping down her face as she watched her love crumble in despair.

***********************************************************************

Buffy's eyes fluttered open and she stretched languorously in her nice warm bed, the sunlight dancing in the room through the muted yellow curtains. Turning to see if Angel was awake, she found his side empty. Shrugging, she sat up and glanced over at the alarm clock. Nine a.m. She hadn't slept that long since just before she had Lindsey. She frowned. And while Lindsey could sleep like a champ, she was usually up at eight the latest. Climbing out of her warm cocoon, she padded down the hall to Lindsey's room. Opening the door gently, she found Lindsey's bed unmade with Lindsey not in it.

"Lindsey?" she called out.

No answer.

"Lindsey?" she called, louder this time.

No answer.

"Buffy?"

She turned to see Will standing in his doorway, blue pajama bottoms and no shirt, his hair standing up in curly spike's. Just like his nickname.

"Is Lindsey with you?" she asked.

"No, I just woke up. Heard you out here."

Buffy started running down the hall, turned right and barreled down the stairs. Running into the kitchen, she found half eaten toast, half full glass of orange juice and Lindsey's markers all over the table and leading a path into the living room. The faint sound of the TV filtered into Buffy's panicked mind.

"Hey, Buffy, she's in ‘ere!" Spike bellowed from the living room. "Watchin' cartoons."

Buffy stalked in the living room and found Lindsey at the coffee table, coloring away on some scrap pieces of paper from the printer.

"Lindsey Anne, I called your name—" Buffy started, letting her worry channel itself into anger.

"Well, I didn't HEAR you," Lindsey barked, looking up at Buffy.

Will started to chuckle. Buffy shot him a look and he stopped.

"How long have you been up, baby?" Buffy asked, starting to calm. She knelt beside her daughter, brushing her long golden locks through her fingers, assuring herself that she was there and safe.

"I don't know. Daddy said it was early for me. He got me toast and orange juice. The toast wasn't good though. It didn't have brown sugar and cinnamon on it," she wrinkled her nose making large red circles with her crayon on her paper. "He told me to color and watch cartoons until you got up."

"Where did Daddy go? Did he say?"

"To the store. He said he had to get some stuff. I think he went with that lady."

Buffy wrinkled her forehead "What lady?"

"Fred," Lindsey said absently.

"No, that's . . . " Will said in puzzlement and then jogged out of the room and up the stairs.

"Did Daddy why he was going to the store with Fred honey?" Buffy asked.

Lindsey shrugged.

Buffy stood on shaky legs, a funny feeling pooling in the pit of her stomach. "Will?" she called out.

Will came down the stairs slowly, face pale, features blank. He stopped at the bottom of the stairs and stared at Buffy. "She's gone."





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