“Spike, will you just shut up about it?”

“Yeah, well your mum’s gonna rip a fresh one out of me if she hears about this. Maybe you don’t care for your appendages, but I do.” The vampire stopped and turned around, watching the blonde follow him at about 20 paces‘ distance. His next statement belied any anger he’d shown her. “You wanna stop for a minute? You’re lagging behind, Slayer. If you’re tired just say so.”

How dare he! “I’m not lagging behind! You’re just walking too fast--God knows you could have missed a dozen vamps just because you’re trying to rush this patrol. Now slow down.” Buffy would never admit it, but the vampire’s fast pace was beginning to wear her down. She had no idea why--they’d only been patrolling for an hour. Her patrols usually lasted at least twice as long, and they never wore her out to the point where she was. “Anyway, if Mom has anything to say about this we both know that you didn’t have a choice. Either I tagged along with you, or I patrolled on my own--you remember my ultimatum.”

Spike had stopped, waiting for her to catch up to him. Buffy was too busy ranting to notice this courtesy on the vampire’s behalf. Resting on a tombstone across from where he stood, she sighed. Damn it felt good to get off her feet. “There was no way I was staying home, alone, tonight. Do you know how boring TV is on Tuesday nights? There’s absolutely nothing on! And with Mom at the gallery ‘till who knows what hour I would have gone stir crazy. So just think about it this way, Spike. You’re actually doing me a favour.”

The bleached vamp was about to reply that she’d be safer bored at home than running through cemeteries in her condition when two vamps sauntered up to them. Neither Spike nor Buffy had sensed them, as they had been so wrapped up in their arguing.

The bigger one, who was probably the leader--the bigger ones always were--spoke up first. “Well, well. If it isn’t the Slayer and her little...” he turned to see who she was talking to and nearly fell flat on his rear. “...Spike?” He looked from Slayer to master vampire to Slayer again, mouth agape.

Buffy hopped off her marble resting spot, deftly twirling a stake through her fingers. Although she was tired, the Slayer part of her felt a boost of energy go through her in the presence of potential prey. “Gee, I guess you aren’t as dumb as you look.” She paused, frowning. “Then again, I don’t see you running the other way, so I think I have to take that back.”

Leader-vamp took a step towards Spike, not caring to be too close to the Slayer just then. He turned to the blonde vampire, trying to read his expression. Impossible, of course, as Spike stood stock still, arms crossed over his chest and wearing his best poker face. Perplexed--something was really not right--the vamp broke the silence. “Uh, Spike? Why aren’t you killing her?”

Rolling his eyes, the bleached blonde finally spoke. “What does it look like we’re doing, you dolt? We’re having ourselves a picnic. Basket o’goodies is in the car, and we’re just looking for a nice comfy spot where we can lay the blanket.”

Buffy’s hand flew up to her mouth to stifle the laugh that almost escaped. Maybe hanging around Spike could actually be funny. Frowning at the perplexed vamp, she jumped in the game. “Yeah, and you and your friend weren’t invited. You’re ruining our picnic, you... ruiners.”

The second vamp, who until now had done a good job of blending in with the shrubs, took a step back in an attempt to leave the two blondes to their get-together. Who knew why a Slayer and master vampire were having a picnic at night in a cemetery, but it couldn’t mean anything but trouble in his mind. His retreat was impeded by his buddy’s firm grip on his shirt, and he inwardly cursed the day he’d joined up with the loudmouth troublemaker.

“Come back here, you idiot. They’re shitting us.” He narrowed his eyes at Spike, growling. “Seems Spike here’s changed sides, or something. Doesn’t matter, though.” He puffed his chest out, looking like some rain-swollen scarecrow. “Killing a master vampire’s gonna bolster our reps.” Looking at the more timid vamp, he nodded towards Buffy. “You take the Slayer, I’ll handle Spike.”

Mumbling to himself, you take the Slayer, I’ll handle Spike, the smaller vampire turned to face the Slayer. Struggling to keep his legs from taking him far, far away from Memorial Cemetery, he eyed his opponent, unsure of where to strike first.

Sensing his indecision, Buffy decided for him. A swift kick to his midsection sent him stumbling over the nearest gravestone. She turned quickly to Spike, seeing that he and leader-vamp were already going at it full tilt. For once, she was happy to fight the lamer vampire. She wasn’t too sure if she could’ve taken a stronger vampire, in her condition.

Ok, maybe this patrolling gig wasn’t so bad. Yeah, he was fighting his kind. Killing, actually. But it was more fun than he’d had in ages--literally--what with taking care of Dru, the whole Angelus reborn deal, and those army guys. Good thing he’d gotten away before they’d been able to do anything to him. God knows what nefarious plans they’d had for him...

A quick jab to his jaw brought the bleached vamp back from his musings. Fight now, ponder later, mate. He shook his head and punched the other vampire back, breaking his nose. Enraged, leader-vamp flew at him with a volley of punches and kicks, all of which were blocked by the master vampire. It may have been a long time since he’d fought like this, but a bloke doesn’t forget that easily.

Figuring he’d led the vamp on long enough, Spike pulled a stake from his coat sleeve and pushed it through the demon’s heart, watching its corporeal form turn to dust. Even if he’d done this many times in the past weeks, the sight of another vamp’s dust settling to the earth still disturbed him. He couldn’t help but think of his own remains and where they would end up settling...

Turning around, he realized that he’d forgotten about the Slayer. A pregnant Slayer, who should be sitting at home, feet up on the coffee table, watching some inane TV show with a laugh track. He frowned when he couldn’t see her--had something happened to her? That smaller vamp should have been a breeze for her, but what if it had been the better fighter of the two... “Slayer? Buffy?”

A small voice came from behind a larger tombstone. “Ugh. Remind me to stay home next time...” Buffy pulled herself up, with some trouble. “Geez, I’ve only been off patrol for, like, a month or so and I feel like I’m 98 years old.” Finally on her two legs, she tried to take a step forward but ended up lurching forward before being caught by the blonde vampire.

“’S cause your body’s concentratin’ more on taking care of the bit, pet. You shouldn’t be fighting--it can’t be good for the baby.” He held her in place until she was able to stand on her own. He extended his arm and smiled at her. “Let’s call it a night and take you home, shall we?”

Buffy smiled at him, accepting his arm--she pushed aside the idea that it was just plain wrong to allow Spike to help her. He was offering, after all, and she was really not in a position to refuse. “That’s the best idea I’ve heard in a while.” Wincing, she held her side. “I think I’m up for a nice, hot bath and a warm cup of cocoa.”

***

Spike settled onto the couch, ready to watch The World’s Worst Drivers--shows like that were always worth a chuckle. He’d just finished helping Buffy up the stairs so she could have that relaxing bath she’d prattled on and on about on their way home.

His keen hearing picked up a thump, followed by some muffled cries.

Taking the stairs two by two, he stopped at the bathroom door. He gave a two-knuckled rap on the door. “Slayer? Is everything ok?” When a minute had gone by with no response, he was ready to break the door down. What if she’d fallen, or fainted? He tried the handle--best not to cause damage if there’s an easier way to go about it--and saw that the door was locked. “Buffy, if you don’t answer me, I’m gonna break this door down and come in!” He was past being worried by now and was planning on following through with his threat.

Since when had he come to care so much for the Slayer anyway? Was it because she was with child, which reminded him that no matter what happens, no matter what horrible things take place, life goes on? Or was it because she’d actually treated him well in the past few weeks, not only thanking him for patrolling for her, but actually being civil, even friendly, to him, taking their truce seriously? Heck, maybe it was all of the above...

The clicking of the lock startled him from his thoughts. He didn’t hesitate to open the door and peer inside. The first thing that hit him was the faint smell of blood. Vamp must’ve gotten her worse than she let on. When he looked at her as she sat on the edge of the bathtub, face pale, arms wrapped around herself, body shaking, he knew it was more than that. Crouching in front of her, he placed a hand on her knee and looked her in the eyes. Pushing a stray lock of hair out of her face, he spoke quietly. “Pet--what’s wrong?” The sight of the Slayer, of all people, so shaken up by something freaked him out.

Sniffling, she brought her eyes level to his. She knew she should call one of the Scoobies, or her mom at the gallery, but for some reason she decided to put her trust in Spike. “I’m... I’m bleeding.” Her voice was faint and shaky.

Spike let out a little breath, part laugh part relief that she wasn’t in shock. “Yeah, I can smell it. Do you want me to look at it for you? Bandage it up?” Why was the Slayer being so squeamish all of a sudden? He himself had given her more serious battle wounds than she seemed to have received tonight.

The young woman shook her head. “Can’t bandage it up. It’s the baby. It must’ve happened when I fell, in the cemetery.” Her gaze never broke from his when she told him, hoping that she wouldn’t have to go into too much detail. Come on, Spike--figure it out...

Spike closed his eyes, hands clenching into fists. Damn! He knew he shouldn’t have let her come patrolling. Yeah, like you had any choice--Slayer does what Slayer wants, mate, and there’s nothing you can do about it. Now wasn’t the time, however, for self-recrimination. Now was the time for making intelligent decisions. Taking the young woman into his arms, he stood up. He was mildly surprised that, instead of fighting him, she curled up against his chest. “Hold tight, luv. We’ll take you to the hospital. To the doctors--they’ll help you and the bit.” I hope...