“Damn it, Joyce! Get a handle on it or he’ll know something’s off the minute he walks in through that door.” Joyce Summers wiped the spilled milk off the counter, trying to get a hold on herself. Tonight was the night that she was going to bring up the subject of substitute patrolling to Spike, and it was wracking her nerves.

She had no idea how to broach the subject. Would she slip it in between talking about the new artwork she received at the gallery and what was going on in Passions? Maybe she’d just blurt it out after he’d tell her about his latest win at poker. She could see it now. “Good for you--you haven’t won that many Persians in weeks, Spike. Oh, by the way Buffy’s pregnant and we need you to patrol for her--so what do you say?” Ugh. Every scenario she rolled through her mind sounded as banal as the last one. Maybe she shouldn’t have volunteered for this, anyway...

“Deep thoughts, Joyce?”

The eldest Summers woman jumped up, spilling the milk once again. She couldn’t, however, stop the smirk from coming to her lips. “You know, Spike--I’ve asked you not to do that. My heart can’t take being scared over and over again.”

Closing the door behind him, the blonde vamp smiled back. “Actually, I knocked a few times but you didn’t answer. I figured maybe you were downstairs or something.” Catching the slight tremble of her hands, his eyebrow went up. “Something wrong? You seem to be on pins and needles tonight.”

Joyce chuckled nervously. “Can’t hide anything from you, can I?” Maybe the best course of action would be to just go ahead and ask.

Putting the pan of cocoa on the burner, she turned to see that Spike had already set their mugs and spoons on the table and had taken a seat. If anyone would have ever told her, even a year ago, that a vampire would be so at home in the Summers household that he‘d know where to find dishes and flatware, she would have had them committed. “Actually, there is something I’ve been asked to bring up.”

Spike’s eyes narrowed. “’Been asked’, huh? This wouldn’t have anything to do with the Slayer and her Watcher, would it?” Great, now they had one of his only real friends in on their shenanigans.

Taking a seat across from him, Joyce’s face was serious. “Well, yes and no. It does have something to do with Buffy, but speaking to you was my idea.” Her finger danced around the mug’s rim as she tried to sort her thoughts. “I need to ask you a favour, Spike. I don’t want to pressure you--you can say no, but I just need to ask because you’re the only person who can really help.”

Ok, now his curiosity was really piqued. “Ok, Joyce. I’ll listen.”

“Buffy’s pregnant.” There--that much was out of the bag. Joyce waited until Spike stopped choking before continuing. “Yeah, I know. That was pretty much my reaction too.” She smiled, adding: “Except there may have been a bit more yelling involved.”

On a list of a hundred possible things the vampire expected Joyce to say, ‘Buffy’s pregnant’ would probably have ranked, oh, one thousandth. It was a good thing that the cocoa wasn’t ready yet, because he was sure he would have sprayed it all over the table, and all over the woman sitting across from him. “So what about Finn? What does Captain Cardboard have to say about all this? It is his, I assume...”

Joyce had expected laughter, sarcasm, maybe even glee at her daughter’s predicament. But she never thought she’d hear the most rational first question--the one neither she nor Rupert had thought to ask. “Riley’s in South America. He and Buffy didn’t exactly see eye to eye on the subject.” She didn’t want to go into any more detail, as the specifics of the couple’s argument weren’t any of his business.

“Bloody hell! A bloke doesn’t just get a girl pregnant and then bail out! Slayer or not, that’s downright caddish. Hope she broke the blighter’s nose, at least.” So, the righteous Whitebread wasn’t so righteous after all. It should have made Spike happier than anything to find out that the Slayer and Finn’s lovey-dovey relationship was over, but truth be told it didn’t. Maybe it was because of his own failed relationship, or maybe it was because of the baby, but he actually felt empathy towards her. Good God, he needed to go out and kill things more often--he was beginning to be a right ponce.

“No, she didn’t break anything. Although she did threaten him very imaginatively.” Joyce got up take the cocoa off the stove and to pour it into the two mugs. Her hands were no longer shaking, and she felt rather comfortable speaking to the vampire. He’d taken the news with about the same range of emotions than everyone else: shock, concern, anger... Hopefully support would be the next. Placing the vampire’s mug in front of him, she sat back down. “The reason I’m telling you this--the favour that we need...”

“I’ll do it.”

Joyce’s mug stopped halfway to her lips. “But... how...”

Spike might not have been the smartest vamp out there, but he wasn’t daft, either. “’S obvious, innit? There’s no way that you or ol’ Rupes will let the Slayer go out and fight--not in her condition, anyway. So you need someone to cover her patrols. I’m the only one who’s as strong as she is, so it only makes sense that you ask me.” He took a small sip of the steaming chocolatey concoction before continuing. “I’ll take over the Slayer’s patrols until after the bit’s born. I’ve been needing something to do, anyway. Poker’s nice and all, but I’m gonna get all soft if I don’t get in some regular exercise.”

Joyce had to fight the urge to get up and give the vampire a hug. “Thank you, Spike. You don’t know how much this means to me--to all of us.”

“S’all right. Just keep in mind, though--the only reason I’m accepting this is because you asked me. You’re the only one of the whole lot of’em who’s ever treated me right--with respect. ‘Cept maybe Red, but she‘s still kind of nervous around me...”

“Well, that’ll happen to nice, quiet girls when someone kidnaps them and threatens them with broken bottles.” She sent the vamp her best ‘disapproving mother’ look.

The vampire had the sense to look abashed. “Yeah, well... Not the smartest thing I’ve ever done, was it? And Red’s the nicest one of the bunch.” He took another sip and then frowned. “What does the Slayer think of all this? Of me patrolling for her? Betcha she‘s got her knickers in a knot over it.”

Joyce shook her head and sank further into her chair. “That’s putting it mildly, I’d say. I think Rupert and I got a couple of ‘over my dead body’s and even more ‘he’s evil, Mom, he’ll kill us all’s. It might have been funny, if the circumstances were different.”

Spike shook his head in disbelief. He’d been on the straight and narrow ever since he’d returned to Sunnydale. He hadn’t hatched any devious plans--hadn’t taken part in any, either, he hadn’t bothered anyone, aside from the Slayer of course, and--not that he’d ever tell anyone--he’d been drinking bagged blood for the past few months. He was sure it was some of Dru’s hocus-pocus. He found excuses not to kill every potential victim he’d come across. A middle-aged man--must have kids to provide for; a young girl--she’s just starting her life; an old couple--well, that’s just not fair, now is it? If he didn’t know any better, he’d swear he was developing a conscience, as hard to digest as the idea was to him. “Figures she’d say that. Wonder what she’d be saying if I was actually causing a ruckus instead of mindin’ my own business?”

“That doesn’t really matter, does it? Rupert’s already put his foot down and told Buffy that she has no say in it. She’s not happy with it, but I think she’s resigned to sulking.” After a long, uncomfortable silence, Joyce decided that that was enough serious talk for the evening. Their cocoa evenings were meant as a nice distraction to a blah life.

“So, how’d your poker go last night?”