[A/N: Sometimes you just have to take a step back, away from some things and then whatever it is sort of falls into place and everything works. That sort of happened here. Sort of. The plot points of this story are all done, its just a matter of getting it all on paper, or screen or wherever. I’m working on it. This chapter is a time compressing one, meaning that its going to be little snippets of moments in the next coming weeks, until it slows down again. Title is from Bonnie Franklin in the New York Times (An unhurried sense of time is in itself a form of wealth) and the quotes are as attributed. And the disclaimers are in full force and effect.]
Previously: Giles has come home with loads of information; Angel’s presence is being felt and everyone’s trying to find a way to get the chip removed.
Book Two, chapter 21. An unhurried sense of time.
Time is an illusion. Lunchtime doubly so.
Douglas Adams
We've erased a lot of the distinctions between night and day,
between weekday and weekend.
Our notions of time and space are collapsing.
Susan Orlean, Saturday Night in America
On Saturday, when Giles had been home for a couple of days, Spike showed up alone at the Magic Box, with a couple of books in hand and something obviously on his mind. It was fairly early for him to be up and around, which indicated something of importance. He’d come in through the tunnels, using the fairly busy underground routes in and around Sunnydale. The girls were meeting him here later, after they did some shopping. Buffy knew he was going to tell Giles about Dawn, and they’d told Dawn together what Spike was planning.
Giles was, for once, alone in the shop, Anya giving him the flimsy excuse of needing some girl time to herself and requesting the day off. He’d obliged, noting that something was bothering the girl, but secure that when she felt up to it, she’d no doubt tell them all what was on her mind.
“Rupert.” Spike rarely used given names in proper forms and when he did, the person always knew there was something important about to be said. “Niblet got into your flat when you were gone. Took some of the books Oxford brought.” He placed the set of four on the table, laying the smallest on the top. “She read them. Searchin’ out how she got here.”
The older man walked around the counter toward the books. “What did she find?”
Expelling air in a deep sigh, Spike sat down with his arms across the back of chair, unsure how to just say this. “She found out who she is.”
“What? Spike what do you mean she found out who she is?” Giles was confused. “Just tell me.”
After their talk the other day, when Dawn had slipped and told them, Spike had asked her for the journal so that he and Buffy could go over it. She’d given it to them and they’d read the thing together, picking up things that Dawn had missed, instances that she wouldn’t have known about.
Spike gestured toward the smallest journal. “Need to read that one Rupert. Should answer all your questions.”
Not wanting to wait, Rupert asked him again. “What’s in it?”
“Jus’ read the bloody thing. Answers are all in there.” Done with his questions, Spike got up and went back downstairs to start filling mail orders.
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Two and a half hours later, Giles closed the journal and wiped his eyes, answers to nearly all his questions regarding the Key filling his head. The journal also supplied a few other answers, unfortunately those answers were for questions Giles had never bothered to pose before. He’d known, after they destroyed the Sunnydale branch of The Initiative, that human and demon experimentation had been an ongoing practice in the labs. He’d known and hadn’t once thought that samples might have been taken from either Spike or Buffy. Hadn’t even thought to look for them in the aftermath.
Giles was now faced with the truth that it wouldn’t have mattered even if he had thought to go back; however, he was also realizing that somewhere, someone had the samples that hadn’t been destroyed. Sometime in the future, some bizarre hybrid like Adam could be reconstructed from those samples. He stared off, not really seeing his surroundings, instead letting his mind drift back nearly two years. Defeating Adam and the Initiative had taken the combined strengths of all of them, and at the end, even Spike had been of some assistance. There was no telling what they might face in the future, what madman could possibly dream up with the samples. It almost didn’t bear contemplating.
His supposition about the monks had been correct, which in hindsight was of little comfort. They had been capable of manipulating energy with far greater skill than he’d ever seen or encountered and it appeared they were not originally part of this dimension. But the vessel they used to house the Key was something else entirely. The vessel was purely human – as much as the child of any vampire and slayer could be – and although she had been manufactured – she was most definitely the child of Buffy and Spike.
Which explained so much. The irony of the situation was that all summer, Spike had stayed to protect Buffy’s sister, never once imagining that Dawn was something more. That Spike harbored feelings for Dawn and they were reciprocated was never a question, at least in his mind. Now the information in the journal was doubly important, but Giles doubted any of them but him were aware of that fact. If the child of a slayer and a vampire was strong enough to house an eternal elemental energy, there’s no telling what else that child or other children were capable of, what other strengths they would exhibit.
The coming months with Connor were going to be enlightening ones.
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It was domestic and very coupley of them; something that Buffy had never done with any of her other boyfriends, but everyone else was out doing their own thing and well, they needed to do some shopping. The house was dangerously low on groceries. But at least they had money to do the shopping with, because Giles had come through in a big way.
Unbeknownst to her, Giles had gone to the Council asking them for some financial support for their only active slayer. Citing the need for her to maintain her own household, since she had a dependent sister, Giles had pretty much effectively blackmailed the Council into providing housing expenses and incidentals. The Council had, in typical fashion, asked for concessions from Giles on her behalf and he’d resisted, refusing to budge on his position of requesting the necessary funds. But the Council had conceded the need for separate households, and understanding that the sister in question was not just another teenager; so they’d made arrangements for the payment, in full, of the mortgage that was still outstanding. All other household expenses, including the electricity and water bills, would be paid monthly out of an account Giles would manage. Anything else that was needed would have to be supplied by the Slayer herself.
So here they were, in the supermarket, her and Spike with the baby, shopping. Picking out foods. Buying diapers. Getting formula. Doing stuff she never ever thought she’d be doing, with probably the last person she’d ever thought to be doing all those things. But it was fun. Spike had a weird way of making everything easy. He was tossing boxes of pasta in the cart, while Buffy held the baby, dragging the cart behind him, grumbling all the while good-naturedly about how this was ruining his image.
Connor was resting against her shoulder and Buffy tried to reach for a jar of sauce that was over her head and she nearly brought down the whole display on top of the two of them. A little old lady who was in the aisle with them gasped, drawing Spike’s attention and he was there, holding the jars up, before any of them could fall. He got them back up on the shelf, then shifted his attention to her. He was all set to yell, but the look on her face stopped him short, so instead he gathered her into his arms, holding them both close.
“All right, sunshine?” He kissed her forehead, his hand cupping Connor’s as he let her lean into his chest.
“Yeah. I think so.” But she was shaking and he could feel it, so he knew she wasn’t really okay.
“How’s m’sprog?” Spike lifted the baby up onto his shoulder, wrapping his arm around Buffy. She was overreacting and they both knew it, but he wasn’t going to mention it. And they both knew it was because of the baby.
Neither of them was paying attention to anything around them until the old lady whose gasp had alerted Spike patted Buffy on the back. “Its okay dear. First baby’s take a bit of getting used to. You’ll learn.”
Buffy lifted her head to gaze into the kind face and sniffled. “I’m not used to this.”
“Its okay dear. You and your husband will find your way.” She smiled at the two of them, patting Buffy again, then laid her hand on Connor’s back. “It’s a boy, yes? I’m sure he’ll grow up big and strong, just like his daddy, here. Congratulations and good luck.”
With that, the little old lady walked away, but not before winking at Spike.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Cordelia was sitting on a lounge chair, listening to the waves break gently on the Mexican shore when the buzzing of her cell phone interrupted. Grumbling half-heartedly, she flipped open the phone without looking at the incoming number.
“Hello Cordy. How’s my favorite girl?”
His voice sent shivers down her spine and she didn’t speak, almost didn’t breathe.
“C’mon, Cordy, don’t forget to breathe.” The false sincerity in his tone was her undoing and she gasped in a few quick puffs of air.
Listening to her strangled gasps, Angel chuckled. “You know what’s great about cell phones? You never really know where the other person is calling you from.”
Despite the fact she knew he couldn’t be that close, since the nearest shelter was five hundred feet behind her, Cordelia whirled around, looking for him.
“Know what else is great about cell phones?” He paused, waiting for his question to sink in. “You can track them.” He laughed then, the sound going right through her.
The connection ended and Cordelia was left staring wild-eyed all around her, goosebumps erupting all over her skin.
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Tara had gone on a date, with someone that Oz had introduced her to, and that was slightly weird, at least to Buffy. Spike was out playing poker and she was kind of at loose ends, although Connor was a handful. He was on the floor, playing with the toys everyone kept buying him whenever they went out, while she folded laundry. I am domestic Buffy. Go me. She smiled a little, wondering when she’d become a mom and how it didn’t give her such a weird feeling.
Connor was a sweet baby, as long as he wasn’t howling to be fed, and he was generally quiet. When the clothes were all folded Buffy watched Connor for a minute, as his plump little fist waved around the rattle. Aren’t babies his age supposed to just lay there and do nothing? According to the book Wesley had gotten – What to Expect the First Year – Connor wasn’t supposed to be moving or doing anything other than sleeping and eating. Instead he wriggled around and held things, grabbed at all sorts of stuff they waved in his face; he recognized them all too. He knew whenever Spike was in the room, sometimes crying until the vampire caved and picked him up, reacting whenever he heard Spike’s voice. Thinking for a moment, Buffy decided to try something. Very softly she called out his name, watching him as he stilled. She did it again and it was very clear that he heard her. The third time, he was struggling to move in her direction.
Buffy got up, walked a bit toward the front door and called him again. His arms and legs went crazy, flailing as he sensed she’d moved further away from him. She could see his face screw up into a bit of a scowl, which was adorable on his tiny features. Buffy moved closer and called his name. If a baby could snap his head up and look directly at someone, Connor did. Buffy called his name a third time and his little legs pumped up in the air like he was trying to run to her. Buffy laughed and Connor did it again. Dropping down to her knees, scooting over to him, she leaned down and nuzzled him.
“How’s my big boy?” Play nibbling on him, she blew raspberries onto his cheek and when Connor grabbed at her, Buffy cooed at him, “there’s my baby.”
“No. He’s not yours. Projecting much?” Dawn’s voice came at her from the kitchen and Buffy looked up into the angry eyes of her sister. No. She’s not my sister. That’s my daughter.
“Hey Dawnie. How was the movie?” Not realizing that Dawn was brewing for a fight, Buffy went right back to the baby without waiting for her answer.
“He’s not yours you know. Not really.” Finally Buffy heard the words Dawn was saying and she picked up her head to look at her.
“Dawn? I know that. I’m just playing with him.” Dawn made a face and Buffy waited for the outburst.
“But he’s not yours.” Oh, okay, that’s what’s bothering her.
Leaving the baby where he was, Buffy got to her feet, walking closer to Dawn. “I know who his parents are Dawnie. But its not fair to him to treat him like he’s unwanted. He didn’t ask for any of this.”
Dawn looked away, a set look on her features, “he’s still not your baby.”
“No. He’s not.” Buffy reached for her, pulling Dawn’s chin so that the teen had to look at her. “I don’t pretend that he’s mine either.”
Dawn’s eyebrow raised and her hip thrust out and oh boy does she look like her father right now, and Buffy could see Spike in her so clearly and she was just watching her not really hearing the words her sis. . daughter was speaking. “You sure about that?”
“Am I sure about what?” Buffy was confused.
“God are you even listening to me? Do you even know I’m here?” Dawn’s voice rose in volume, climbing toward ear-splitting levels.
“I know you’re here. Dawnie, why would I pretend that he’s mine?” Refusing to let her pull away, Buffy wrapped her hand around Dawn’s wrist. Dawn tried pulling away, but Buffy held on.
“Why wouldn’t you? Its Angel’s baby. . . isn’t that what you’ve always wanted?” There was real sarcasm in her tone and Buffy though perhaps Dawn’s reaction was partially for herself and partially for Spike. Does she think that I’m doing this because Connor is Angel’s? Knowing that she’d already had this discussion with Spike and he knew how she felt, but that no one else did, Buffy quickly realized that everyone might be thinking the same thing.
“No. I don’t want his baby. Honestly? I don’t want anything to do with him.” Buffy looked into Dawn’s eyes, trying to make her understand. “I’m so over Angel.”
Big tears sprung into Dawn’s eyes and Buffy pulled her close. “What’s really wrong?”
“Nothing.” Her jaw clenched and she pulled away from Buffy.
“Dawnie. Something’s bugging you. So dish.” Buffy grabbed Dawn’s hand and pulled her over to where Connor was on the floor. She sat down, then looked up at the teen and said, “c’mon, sweetie, sit down here with me.”
“Its just, you know, I see you with him and it seems like all you want is to take care of him and you know, what about Spike? And what’s with the baby? I mean I thought you didn’t want . . . you never said you wanted babies and now all of a sudden Angel’s baby is here and now you’re all oohh baby and aww and how come. . . its just not fair.”
Buffy hid her smile, because Dawn hadn’t breathed through any of that halting explanation, which didn’t even make much sense at all. The last words struck a chord, though, so Buffy focused on them. “What’s not fair?”
Finally breaking down, Dawn choked out, “because he gets to be a baby and I . . . I don’t . . All my memories about that are false. None of them are real and it . . would have been . . . “
Oh. That’s what’s this was all about. “It would have been different if at least part of them were real?” Buffy wasn’t sure what Dawn was getting at, or really trying to say other than she wished she’d been given memories of growing up with her real parents.
Dawn wiped her eyes, not looking at Buffy. “Yeah. If you know, the monks had planted memories of you and me and Spike as, you know, what we really are.”
“Would’ve been way complicated, don’t you think?” Buffy thought about it for a moment, then blurted out, “but couldn’t you just picture the look on Giles’ face? He’d have headed right for the books.”
Dawn let out a watery giggle. “What would’ve been even funnier would have been Xander’s reaction.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Patrolling with the Buffybot was enough to drive him round the bend. Spike was not looking forward to being out there, trailing after the robotic image of his love, but they had all decided that one of them should be home at all times with the baby. Connor was thriving, had grown like a weed in the last two weeks, and was constantly wriggling around; doing things a normal infant didn’t do until much later. Things at the house had settled down also, Wesley had moved out to join Giles at his flat, since sleeping on the couch was decidedly uncomfortable and Buffy and Spike were contemplating a move into Joyce’s old room.
It was nearly time to get out there and patrol, and since it was his night to go, he was restless and pacing around like a panther without enough room to roam. Spike was also missing Buffy, since sleeping with an insatiable infant wasn’t his idea of fun. Probably as a side effect of his growth spurts, Connor was still eating every couple of hours, which left their sex life suffering. Not that Spike minded, well, he did, but the spawn came first, much as he hated admitting it. He didn’t care much as long as the sprog didn’t yowl at the top of his lungs, in the ear splitting howl he seemed to have perfected, whenever his belly wasn’t full.
There were moments too, when Buffy couldn’t soothe the boy and only Spike’s touch would settle him down. His theory was that the infant was used to the lack of a heartbeat and it in some way comforted him to be held by Spike. So there were long nights when he and the sprog were up and everyone else was asleep. Spike realized how funny it was when he was up late, the television on and he found himself with the infant in his arms and he was talking out loud to the baby. It had been the most surreal moment of his unlfe; William the Bloody, the Slayer of Slayers, watching late night infomercials with a two week old infant in his arms, one he had no intentions ever of harming. It was enough to cause him a serious case of, as Dawn or Buffy would put it, the wiggins.
Everyone was gathered in the Magic Box; Giles, Wesley and Anya arguing over some obscure point of demonology, Buffy was holding Connor and making faces and noises at him, Oz was hanging out by the front door, waiting for Tara to come back from classes and Dawn was also due to arrive in any minute. But he was restless. There was a itch along his spine that no amount of scratching would alleviate. He couldn’t shake the feeling; it was like a hum just beneath his skin, a nagging sense of some impending disaster.
He snorted mentally, ticking off the number of things that could explode in their faces. The Huntsman and the hounds had effectively stopped hunting the innocent or nearly innocent; Willow had drifted in and out of their lives, meeting here and there, accidently running into Tara, who still put her off about having a real discussion and then there was Angelus. That at the moment was his biggest worry. Angelus had been too quiet in the last couple of weeks, leaving subtle reminders of his presence.
The scariest moment had been when he’d tailed Tara home just a couple of nights ago. But that was nothing, really, in the scheme of things. Spike knew Angelus better than any one else, and he knew this was all part of the game, lulling them all into a sense of security and then he would strike. And strike hard.
He stopped pacing, turning on his heel to watch Buffy, his head cocked to the side. She was not classically beautiful, not like some other women he’d known, there was too much character in her face for that, but there was a beauty all the same. A smile traced across his face, as he stood just watching her, he completely was unaware his actions had garnered his own audience. Anya nudged Giles, who was standing behind her, pointing her chin in their direction.
Spike was standing on the upper level of the store, his eyes trained on Buffy and the baby, an expression on his face that Giles had never seen before. The soft lighting of the area at the table complimented Buffy but it was also clear that it wouldn’t matter what light she was bathed in, because it was obvious that in Spike’s eyes Buffy was everything. Anya sighed softly and Giles glanced down at her, catching the sadly wistful look in her eyes.
Anya had been unusually and uncharacteristically quiet since the arrival of Wesley and Connor. There were times he wanted to question her about why, and he’d heard from Wesley about the incident when Xander had frightened her, but he was fairly certain the reason behind her introspection. Even before his successful trip to England, Giles had begun to notice a rift between the former demon and her boyfriend, however he’d chosen to stay out of their situation. But the sadness in her eyes as she watched Spike eyeing Buffy called to him.
Giles laid a hand on her shoulder, squeezing gently, silently lending her some support. Spike moved, breaking the spell they were all under, leaning down to say something that only Buffy could hear and Giles made a snap decision. Buffy’s face lit up, her eyes glowing as Spike’s hand reached out to ghost along her cheek and she leaned into his touch. Watching the two of them, Giles knew he had to do what the crazy notion in his head was telling him to do.
Once more Spike leaned down, whispering something into Buffy’s ear that caused her to blush hotly and swat his arm. The leer on Spike’s face left no illusions about what he’d said or what was on his mind but somehow that didn’t really bother Giles.
“Buffy? Why don’t you go with Spike tonight,” and glancing down at the woman standing next to him, Giles continued, “Anya and I will stay with the baby.”
With a quick glance up at Spike, Buffy asked, “you sure? You don’t mind?”
“No. I don’t, but, well, I didn’t exactly. . . “ he hemmed and hawed so much that Anya finally came to his rescue, announcing, “I don’t mind. I’ve nothing else to do.”
“There. Its settled. You and Spike go patrol and we’ll sit with the baby.”
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Wesley was heading to Los Angeles – in the quest for a demon-friendly surgeon – they’d run up against a brick wall. Dr. Thomas wasn’t a neurologist, was in fact an orthopedist who’s first choice in medicine had been obstetrics and the only other surgeon in Sunnydale was another obstetrician. Two others they’d contacted had refused, so Wesley had volunteered to try and get his contact at Wolfram & Hart to give up more information. The good news was they now had x-rays of Spike’s head, so that Wesley could use those to show them what the situation was.
Giles had privately told Wesley that it appeared they were going to have to contact the Initiative, which everyone had agreed was a last resort.
He was leaving as Dawn and Casey trooped in the door; his meeting with Lilah Morgan scheduled for nine. Dawn watched him go, a question in her eyes, but because Casey was present she never voiced it.
Anya’s greeting was subdued and Dawn knew there was something bothering the ex-demon but she was in the dark about that too. She was beginning to think that no one trusted her at all, when Buffy said, “Dawnie? Giles and Anya are gonna stay home and babysit tonight.”
“I don’t need one.” She very nearly stamped her foot, stopping when she realized how very childish that would be.
“Not for you – for Connor.” Buffy rolled her eyes.
“Oh.” Shrugging her shoulders, Dawn said, “okay then.” She thought for a moment, realizing Buffy was supposed to be home that night and Spike was supposed to patrol with the Buffybot. “Where are you going?”
“Out with Spike.”
They’d told Casey that Connor was Spike’s nephew, and that his mother had been badly injured in an accident and wasn’t going to recover. Since Spike was her only family, he got custody because the baby’s father was a jerk and in jail. The story wasn’t far off the mark and explained why Buffy and Spike had the baby.
“You kids have fun.” Dawn giggled when she realized Spike was tugging her sister toward the door, his impatience evident. “Gee Spike, you’re not gonna wait until full dark?”
His “no” was said as the door was closing behind them.
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So far, patrol had been a huge bust, pretty much the way it had been since Angelus had come back into town. It was so dead in fact, that Spike was beginning to question why they were even bothering anymore, because even the humans seemed to have noticed. There were more people on the streets than he remembered seeing in a long time, and Spike looked over at Buffy, who was walking to his right, a somewhat distracted air about her.
“How come everyone’s out and about?” He was bored and if something didn’t show up soon, the itching along his spine was going to drive him round the bend.
“Thanksgiving is next weekend.” Buffy scrunched up her face, thinking about the holiday. ‘First one without Mom.” She sighed. “I guess I’m gonna have to figure out how to not ruin a turkey and learn how to make a decent pie.”
“Seem to remember that last one wasn’t so bad.” He swung around to watch her, walking backwards.
“Please, that turkey was overcooked and the only thing that came out perfectly were the mashed potatoes. Everything else was bad.” She made a face at him, more than willing to admit she wasn’t up for cooking an entire Thanksgiving meal.
“Ah. . . sunshine, you were also fighin’ a whole tribe of mystical Chumash that day.”
He paused searching his memory. “Yours truly was tied up and unable to help, Red was going on about exploitin’ the natives an’ the whelp ended up all sickly. It’s a wonder anythin’ turned out well.”
She stared at him, looking for any sign of sarcasm. When she found none, Buffy nodded. “There was a lot going on. I don’t remember though, why it was so important that everything turn out perfectly. It was only us, the only new one was you.”
Spike stopped walking. His eyes were on her and Buffy couldn’t fight the blush that bloomed across her cheeks. Dark blue eyes bore into hers and she didn’t want to blurt something out that would further embarrass her.
“So the only thing different was me.” He reached out to touch her chin. Deciding to leave that one alone, he thought about the time he’d spent with Giles. Knowing she’d never share her real feelings unless he was up front about it first, Spike whispered gruffly, “never did thank Red for that spell.”
“Thank her?” Buffy looked up at that, her eyes fixed on him. “Why’d do you wanna do that?”
“She gave me somethin’ I’d wanted.” He paused, watching as what he was saying registered. “Didn’t wanna admit it then but yeah, I wanted you.”
The truth was there, easily broadcast by his eyes on her. “Spike? Promise you won’t laugh?”
“Won’t laugh.” He kissed her forehead, waiting for her to speak.
“I thought you were the best kisser in the world.”
His smirk was back and he swaggered, then swooped back to tug her along. “Would’ve shagged you senseless if it had gone on longer. Then Cardboard wouldn’t have been around.”
Thoroughly surprising him, Buffy said, “I was trying to be normal. Riley was normal.”
Spike snorted out something too low for Buffy to make out, turning an innocent look on her. “Nahuh, Spike tell me.”
“All right. Should’ve . . . just. . . dunno. Soldier boy got off on the pain. Liked bein’ miserable.” He ducked his head, not looking at her, aware that this was a potentially dangerous subject for them to be discussing, but as usual, his mouth was moving before he realized it. “Didn’t like not bein’ the strong one. Tried to make you feel like you weren’t good enough.”
Buffy was quiet for so long that he thought she was building up for a good fight, but when he stole a glance at her, she was staring down at the ground, watching where they were walking. In a very small voice, she said, ‘I guess I missed that. I thought I needed normal. Everyone said that. . . . normal was what I was supposed to want.”
He made some sort of grumbling noise, but she was speaking again, “only one person ever saw me. Only one person that ever really got me.”
“Oh?” Half expecting her to say Willow or Angel, Spike was surprised when she flicked his arm. “What’s that for?”
“Yep. Only one.” She looked up at him, the soft moonlight playing across her features, her eyes dark and twinkling. “Imagine that a vampire understanding a slayer.”
Spike didn’t say anything, just watched her from under his lashes, waiting for her to speak. “Angel never really understood me. Did lots of things that . . . He made decisions on what he thought was right. But only . . .it was you. You were the only one who got me.”
Buffy stepped closer and his arms automatically curled around her. Reaching up, she curled her arms around his neck and Spike grinned. “I know you Slayer. That’s why.”
She whispered back at him breathlessly. “Yeah. I guess you do.”
He was about to lean down to kiss her when a voice came out of the shadows. “Really, that’s just. . . So sweet.”
They broke apart, going into an anticipatory stance, their figures almost back to back, waiting for Angel to show himself. He didn’t disappoint, emerging from behind a crypt, deceptively at ease. “Nice night, moon’s shining down ever so softly, and two lovers are out for a stroll. Makes a pretty picture.”
Unconsciously they shifted, moving so that their dominant hands were on the outside, standing almost side by side.
“You two are soo adorable together. Just cuter than anything. But I have to ask, who’s home with the baby? Did you just leave the two kiddies alone? Or is Willow’s girl there? Hhmmm?” Angel leaned back on his heels, his hands in his pockets.
Neither one of them spoke, for once Spike holding his tongue. But there must have been some change in his expression, because Angel started speaking again. “You know Spike, this won’t last. She’s human and, well, fickle. Can’t decide what she wants, can’t keep a man. You’ll get tired of her and leave.”
Without warning, about ten or so of Angel’s minions jumped down from the tops of nearby crypts and they were surrounded. Angel drifted off, knowing they would make short work of them, uncaring of the losses.
They were fighting, punching and staking right and left, and suddenly Buffy realized she’d gotten separated from Spike. Dusting the last of the minions she’d been fighting, Buffy searched around looking for him. Moving back toward where she last remembered seeing him, she didn’t start to panic until he wasn’t there, and there were only piles of dust scattered around. Moving faster, she half ran toward his old crypt, her eyes sweeping over the grounds of Restfield. Spying a dark spot and seeing something move in the shadows, Buffy set off in that direction, only to skid to a halt when she recognized what she was looking at. It was Spike leaning over someone, talking and gesturing wildly.
Buffy walked closer, then caught a glimpse of who Spike was talking to.
It was Drusilla.
Okay, I'm sure you all know the drill by now. My insecurity needs to know what you think about this. . . because without your input, I think its just a whole lot of crap. So, let me know, okay?
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Author's Chapter Notes:
I hope this one makes up for the shortness of the last one. Thanks to all of the wonderful 38 people who reviewed last time *kiss kiss* and please, the rest of you, drop a line and let me know what you think