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Author's Chapter Notes:
A/N: This story is rated PG-13, but I will have R and NC-17 chapters. I’ll note which ones they are. You have been warned.

A/N: Even though this story is based on Kevin Hill and the movie Big Daddy, I’ve never seen the show and I’ve only watched the movie once, so I’m thinking this is going to be extremely loosely based. I got the idea from reading a description of the plot of the UPN show Kevin Hill, thought I’ve never seen the show. Therefore any similarities are extremely coincidental.
CHAPTER 1 --

Spike jumped out of the shower, towel wrapped haphazardly around his waist and loose blonde curls dripping as dove for the phone as it rang for the fourth time.

“Hello,” he answered.

“William Giles? This is Marianne Stewart, from Child Services.”

“Yeah?” he answered perplexed. Trying to wrap his head around why in the world Child Services would be calling him, he mentally catalogued the women he’d slept with over the years and any chance one of his many couplings could have resulted in pregnancy. He couldn’t come up with a single time he hadn’t taken the utmost precaution.

“You are the brother of Liam O’Connor am I correct?” the woman asked.

“Stepbrother,” Spike answered instantly. “My father married his mother, but yeah, we’re related,” he finished, separating himself from the other boy who was unwillingly joined within the same family when Rupert Giles married Jenny Calendar fifteen years ago. By making this distinction, Spike therefore deflected any blame that could be thrown at him for his stepbrother’s actions.

“It appears Mr. O’Connor had left the immediate area indefinitely,” commented the woman on the phone.

“Where to?” Spike’s brow furrowed, not really concerned with Angel’s whereabouts, but taken back that he hadn’t heard about it through his father. Though the move didn’t exactly surprise him. Work came first to his older stepbrother and an abrupt move for the sake of some legal case he was overseeing would hardly shock anyone.

But what this had to do with Child Services was beyond him. If Angel and his on again and off again girlfriend were having disputes over their kid, why were they calling him? Why should they drag him into their ongoing drama?

“I’m afraid no one knows Mr. O’Connor’s whereabouts.” The woman paused. “But we do have the issue of the child involved, a Lisa O’Connor.” She hesitated before the name, pronouncing it clinically, like she was checking the name on a paper in front of her, lest she confuse it with the hundreds of other children she dealt with on a daily basis.

“My niece,” Spike answered, getting the feeling like this was a one-sided conversation and he was the uninformed, being blindly led by the woman’s questions.

“You would not by any chance know where the birth mother is?”

“Darla?” Spike shook his head, “No. In the past two years I’ve only seen Angel a handful of times. I’ve seen the mother and the kid less than that.”

“Angel?” the woman questioned.

“A nickname,” he answered. “But what does this have to do with me?” He ran his fingers through his drenched hair, checking the clock on his apartment’s living room. He was going to be late for his date with that brunette he met in a bar last week.

“Well, Mr. Giles, as the parents of the child were not married and Mr. O’Connor had full custody this changes some things. The mother could not be contacted and you are named next of kin for Liam O’Connor. The child is now in your custody.”

“What?” he sputtered. His mind went to the baby that he’d seen last year at his father and stepmother’s house in England. He had a hard time picturing her face it was so long ago. All he remembered is that the kid puked on him, not leaving him with a favorable impression of his brother’s brat. He was still trying to wrap his mind around his Angel considering him worthy enough to take care of his kid should something happen by naming him next of kin.

Now apparently something had happened.

“Wait, isn’t Lisa with him?” Spike asked, wanting clarification. Granted, from what Spike had heard from his father, Angel may not win any parent of the year awards, but certainly if he up and moved he would have taken his three year old daughter with him.

“No. Lisa was left at our facility late last night.” The woman continued to talk, but Spike heard none of it. This couldn’t be real. Those next of kin things are never taken seriously are they? You only use ’em when you die and you don’t want your money squandered away by an alcoholic uncle. The lady’s voice broke into his thoughts, “You have some decisions to make Mr. Giles. Shall we keep her here with us or . . .”

“No!” he shouted into the phone, shaking his head. “No,” he repeated more calmly, “I’ll . . . I’ll be right there.”

Two hours later, after getting lost a multitude of times, calling 411 for phone numbers for directions, finding the Child Services building, and filling out mountains upon mountains of paperwork, Spike felt lucky he had remembered to put pants on. Now he stood face to . . . knee with his niece.

Ms. Stewart was more than eager to see them off, practically throwing them out of her office as her next appointment came rushing in.

The little girl looked up at him expectantly, clutching her doll to her chest. She hadn’t said a word through the entire ordeal. Her dark brown hair loosely about her, almost reaching her waist. The sides were pulled back in a miniature clip with a butterfly on it, which matched her purple jumper with a corresponding insect. She clutched a Raggedy Ann doll to her chest.

Spike tilted his head to his niece standing three feet from the ground:

“Well, kid, now what?”

TBC





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