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A/N-This chapter is for Passionfish. Why you ask? Well, because MONTHS ago (as in August, I believe), we made a deal that I would work on this fic and she would work on 400 Days, which I had DEARLY wanted to be updated. Well, Passionfish kept up her end of the bargain, even COMPLETING 400 Days and I never did. So PF, this is for you! Finally!
Chapter 26
 By the time Spike had made it as far as the stairs, Blake had succumbed to a fitful slumber in his arms, and Spike turned around and headed for the living room. Lowering himself gently onto the couch, he carefully rearranged his boy so that he lay sprawled comfortably across his chest as he reclined back against the oversized cushions.

Spike could hear the water running upstairs, but ignored it. Blake needed sleep. Sleep was good. Sleep allowed the body heal, this was something he knew. Sleep would put an end to the pitiful little moans from tiny tortured lungs.

Except it didn't, he soon realized. Little gasps and grunts reached his ears and dug deep into his heart, threatening to crush it into the petrified hunk of nothing it really was. Every hitched breath was noted and the mask of concern on Spike's face grew. He didn't like this, this soddin' humanity that insisted on taking over. It was painful and harsh.

Relentless.

Tortured echoes of past memories slowly bled back into his brain. He alone had been responsible for so much death and horror in the past without any regard to those loved ones that were left behind, and his self-loathing grew. True he had not killed children as a general rule, but he hadn't had a problem with bringing them home for Dru as a special treat; never once caring that a frantic parent was out there wondering what had happened to their baby, their precious child. It suddenly made him physically ill to think of their frantic worry, especially knowing what their child had typically been subjected to before finally allowed a merciful death.

He was a monster.

He didn't deserve this second chance. That thought trumpeted through his head; loud and agonizing. Yet he had it anyway. A second chance. Love. A child.

A family.

And he would do anything to protect them.

Hank stood at the bottom of the stairs, a bad feeling trying to crawl its way into his gut. The ravaged look on this man's face just didn't make sense. He couldn't think of a valid reason why a caretaker should be staring down at his grandson with such burning ferocity, and it made him not just a little nervous.

Determined to get to the bottom of it, Hank stepped into the room, not missing the dangerous look in the stranger's eyes when the blonde head snapped up at his determined approach. There was a hint of something hiding in the schooled gaze that told Hank to tread cautiously.

"Guess now isn't a good time to get him in the tub." Hank gestured to the sleeping Blake before looking down at himself. "Although I sure wouldn't say no to it."

Spike looked over and saw Buffy's dad standing there with steaks of puke running down his trousers and chunks of something unidentifiable in his hair, and his lips almost quirked up into a smile. "Yeah, guess the boy got you pretty good."

"Well, wouldn't be the first time. I think he's just taking after his mother. I remember getting vomited up on several different occasions, if memory serves," Hank commented, still not willing to relax even though the intensity had left the caretaker's face. Hank gave an self-conscious laugh while running his fingers through non-descript, light brown hair, quickly regretting that action when his hand came away sticky and wet. Grimacing, Hank wiped his hand on a clean patch of his shirt.

"So... where are Buffy and Joyce?"

"Buffy's at school, Joyce just left for work a bit ago."

There was a brief pause.

"And you are?" Hank finally asked.

"Spike."

"And again I ask- and you are?" Hank repeated a bit more firmly, getting the feeling that the other man was dodging something.

Spike's eyes bored into those of Buffy's father before looking down at his fretting son, his hand rubbing the small, heated back in gentle, soothing circles.

"The boy's got a bit of something," Spike commented in lieu of a response, finding himself oddly reluctant to reveal his true identity. Something that felt a bit like shame tried worming its way into his already fragile state of emotions, and Spike bit it back angrily. Ok, so this was Buffy's father. Didn't mean he should bloody identify with him now that they had both fathered children.

But he had hurt this man's daughter.

With a heavy sigh, he merely accepted the shame and filed it away with the rest of the emotions he should not be feeling.

Hank was growing more confused and more concerned as each second passed by. Something still told him to proceed with caution and he suddenly cursed the impulsive act that had prompted his showing up on his ex-wife's doorstep with no warning. He had meant it as a surprise, wanting to repair his fractured relationship with his daughter.

For all he knew, this man could be completely delusional. Joyce and Buffy could be tied up in the basement- or something worse- and yet here he stood, covered in puke, making conversation when he really should be demanding to know what the fuck was going on.

And he would have done just that if he thought his grandson was in any danger. But the hands that were gently soothing the boy were reassuring and almost...

Paternal.

With a quick intake of breath, Hank studied the man on the couch, his hands fisting tightly as he noticed something that had escaped him up until now.

Spike heard the slight gasp and his eyes quickly locked on Hank's.

And that was when Hank knew.

Blake had this man's eyes.

Anger rushed through him, dark and ominous, as he remembered back to the night Buffy came running into his arms, terrified and crying, yet refusing to speak of what had caused her panicked flight.

But Hank knew one thing that had happened that night.

That one thing had left her pregnant.

His daughter had never been the same after that night, and that was the reason Hank had distanced himself from her life.

Guilt.

Because of his own selfish needs, he had left her alone that night and she had paid a terrible price.

And the cause of it was sitting on his ex-wife's couch.

"What did you do," Hank bit out dangerously, two years of anger and self-recriminations bubbling up and now overflowing. He knew he was right when he saw the stab of guilt and regret shadowing the features that were so like his grandson's.

"I'm sorry," was all Spike could say, his demon raging at him for apologizing to a HUMAN. Just a few months ago, this man would have been dead the second he dared to speak to Spike in such a manner.

And now?

Now Spike knew the helplessness and worry that accompanied parenthood and felt a kinship. He KNEW. And even more, he knew he deserved the anger.

"You son of a bitch," Hank growled, stepping forward to yank Blake away from him, rage consuming him that this man had defiled his daughter and he didn't even want to think of what else had occurred. How Spike had come to be situated in his ex-wife's house, he didn't know, but he would get to the bottom of it. Of that he was determined.

But then Blake's eyes fluttered open and his face crumpled, looking worse than Hank had ever seen him. Blake gazed at his grandfather with a slightly dazed and glassy-eyed look before peering up into Spike's worried face.

"Daddy, I sick."

Hank watched as Spike's face melted into worry and felt marginally better, gaining some reassurance from that mere observation.

Spike put aside the answering rage that had built up when Buffy's father had charged him.

"What should I do?" he asked when Blake began crying.

Hank's mouth tightened into an angry line, then came to a swift decision. Blake first, kick ass later. Stepping to the couch, Hank felt Blake's cheek with the back of his hand, his mouth now twisting with worry.

"He's burning up with fever."

"I bloody know that," Spike snapped, then forced himself to calm down. "I gave him some fever medication not too long ago." He eyed the orange-tinged stains that Hank continued to sport. "Believe you're wearing most of it there."

Hank opened his mouth to retort, when suddenly the front door burst open and the sound of feet entering the house was heard.

"Spike?" Buffy called from the front entry way, looking around for her child and lover.

"In here, pet," he called back, relief overwhelming him that she was here.

His girl would know what to do.

"Is Blake ok? Giles said...," Buffy's voice trailed off when she caught sight of who was in the room with Spike, her eyes widening as she realized the implications of his presence.

"Dad? What are you doing here?"
tbc
Thank you sooo much for all the reviews I've gotten for this fic!! It makes me soooo motivated to keep working on it (and finish it, by gum)

Thank you txjmfan, anne, gypsy jin, spuffy404, vicki, lucy, aurora, ariel dawn, kimber, cordykitten, bernadette, beth, buffyrat, blondiebear, sarah g, Reciprocity, spikes_niblet, tam, buffyandspikeforever, elanor, amanda and steph for taking the time to let me know what you think!!





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