[Reviews - 110]
-
Table of Contents [Report This]
Microsoft Word Chapter or Story | ePub eBook Chapter or Story | Printer Chapter or Story

Has been viewed 2560 times

- Text Size +




CHAPTER 7 --


“Tell me about when me and Connor were born.”

Spike looked down at his daughter who was burrowed into the couch next to him. One thing they had discovered that they had in common, in their short time together, was a love of old black and white movies. The Philadelphia Story flickered across the screen in front of them. She was so much like her mother otherwise -- bright and happy and romantic. And adverse to anything cultural unless it was pop, he thought with a smile.

And temperamental. After Dawn’s tantrum earlier in the office, she had calmed down and was back to her normal self. Much like when her mother was right pissed about something, once she was assured that there was a chance she might get her way, she was more than fine. Spike wasn’t sure what it was -- the fact that they had promised her she could leave England only when she wanted to or that Buffy and Spike were sitting very close on the same side of her bed. But whatever had made Dawn forget about her earlier woes was fine with him.

That was another thing Spike had discovered -- he couldn’t stand Dawn’s tears anymore than he could Buffy’s all those years ago.

“She never told you about that?” He asked, arching an eyebrow.

“No,” she shook her head. “She claims she doesn’t remember.”

Spike smiled, “Well, that may very well be, Bit. They did have her on some pretty strong pain meds.” She giggled, looking at him expectantly. “But let’s see if I can recall, yeah?”

He sighed, not needing to concentrate hard. He remembered the day vividly.

Because it was the best day of his life.

“They wanted to do a C-Section,” he began, “because your mum was so young. They gave her the option, but she refused because she wanted to be able to hold you right after you came out. Stubborn chit didn’t want to be held down or incapacitated by the drugs.”

Dawn’s shining eyes urged him to continue.

“I’d never been so worried in my whole life.” He shook his head in remembrance. “She was in so much pain, screaming, practically broke my hand, she did. Your grandma was there with us. Your grandpa, Willow, and Xander were out in the hallway pacing the floor. I was terrified. But the minute you came out of your mum all pink and yellin’ your little lungs out, that was it. I never thought I could love anyone more than your mum, but there you were. Your brother came a little bit after you.”

Dawn looked down at her hands, “It must have been hard for her, being the only mother in her high school,” she stated quietly, trying to imagine being a mom at her age.

Spike nodded, “Well, I can tell ya, we were the only married sixteen year olds in school.”

Dawn yawned, stretching her long body across the sofa. Spike looked at the clock, one-thirty in the morning flashed across the digital screen.

“I think it’s time for bed, Nibblet. It’s been a long day, to say the least. You need anything, my room’s at the end of the hall on the right. Your mum’s at the opposite end of the hall on the right, next to your room.”

Dawn nodded, leaning towards her father for a goodnight hug.

“You know, we used to do this every night,” he commented.

Dawn beamed, “Yeah?”

Spike nodded, “Your mum would take Connor because he liked to be rocked to sleep. You didn’t though, so I’d take you downstairs and we’d sit in the dark, just the two of us.”

Spike placed a kiss on his daughter’s cheek, “I love you.”

“Love you too, Dad,” Dawn smiled at him before disappearing up the stairs.

Spike waited twenty minutes before he heard Dawn pad down the hall to her room and close the door, leaving the house in silence. Connor had gone to bed an hour before and he hadn’t seen Buffy in hours.

Deciding it was safe enough that he would be able to be alone for a while, he headed upstairs himself, exhausted, but utterly certain his brain was too busy to let him fall asleep anytime soon.

At the top of the staircase, he halted.

Buffy had her back to him, leaning against the doorframe of Connor’s room. Over her shoulder he could see their boy was dead asleep, sprawled out in the black sheets of his bed.

She felt Spike walk up behind her.

“He’s so much like you were at that age,” she spoke, taking in The Sex Pistols posters covering the walls. She picked up a dark t-shirt littering the floor in front of her, The Clash was emblazed across the front. She smoothed out the creases in the shirt, absentmindedly folding it and placing it neatly on the nearby dresser.

“How so?” He chuckled, “Full of angst? A punk?”

“Perfect,” she answered, turning to face him. “He’s perfect.”

She turned back to study her son. Before she could stop herself, her legs were carrying her over to his bed.

Brushing the long hair out of his eyes, she placed a kiss on his forehead and whispered that she loved him before pulling the covers further up his body.

She moved to leave the room, but Spike had his arm gripped across the doorway, blocking her path, still stuck on her earlier comment about him at fifteen. Swallowing, she lifted her face to him. His eyes bore into her, searching her face for answers she didn’t have. Their bodies subconsciously leaned into one another, their warm breaths mingling together.

Buffy was the first to noticing their lack of distance, braking the trance, looking away and ducking under his arm to flee down the hallway.

Taking one last glance over his son, Spike shut the door behind him.

TBC





You must login (register) to review.