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Author's Chapter Notes:
Thanks to Tanit for the beta.
She was late.

There was a routine to his days now. Most of that routine involved sleeping and being poked and prodded. He was in a regular room now, but the doctor kept saying he needed to hang around here for a while so they could keep an eye on his condition.

He had a condition. It annoyed him.

The skull fracture had come with some consequences. Specifically, it was the brain injury that had accompanied the fracture, but something about calling himself brain damaged just didn't sit right. They weren't sure yet how much of his missing knowledge came from the injury and how much was what they were calling "traumatic amnesia." In other words, even the blasted doctors didn't know how much he would be getting back.

It could be worse. As far as he could tell, there wasn't much of anything important gone. Sure, he'd lost some time, but from the amount of pain he'd been in when he first woke up he didn't think he particularly wanted those memories back, anyway. The department was pissed as hell about it, though. Couldn't testify about stuff he didn't remember, could he? Liam, the bloody bastard, had even gotten loud about it in the hallway. He was shooting his mouth off about how convenient the whole memory loss thing was when Beth had come yesterday.

But his girl had been just as loud and given the wanker a piece of her mind. Almost made him laugh.

The Beth parts he wanted back. They'd had a couple of weeks together he couldn't remember, and he could tell by the way she looked at him sometimes that they must have been pretty good days.

"You don't remember making me call in sick right before you left?"

"You never call in sick."

Beth grimaced. "Well, I didn't used to. Been missing quite a bit lately," she said, looking at him as if she were waiting for something specific.

Yeah, he wanted those memories back. And the bits and pieces that seemed to be missing for everyday kinds of things. They'd had some woman come and sit with him for hours trying to come up with a rehabilitation schedule. Which is why he knew he couldn't remember how to tie a shoe, and he had trouble doing two things at once.

He hated it. And he most certainly didn't want to lay here thinking about what other things he might discover he couldn't do anymore. But nothing big so far. Nothing really important, really. He had some trouble remembering a few words. He would be talking, and know there was a way to say what he wanted, but the word wouldn't come. And now, again, he was laying here worrying over things that didn't really matter. He could have died. He should be grateful.

But she was late. And it bothered him. Beth was never late, he would come back from his torture session with the physical therapist working on his knee, and she would be waiting in his room with a cold bottled water and a smile. It had been that way the whole week he'd been here, and the doctor was supposed to come this afternoon to talk about him going home. And Beth was late.

He would be irritated, if he wasn't so afraid that something was wrong.

Ten minutes later, he was getting angry. He didn't want to. His mind kept telling him that he was being unreasonable, but the anger just kept growing.

By the time she came through the door, face flushed and breathing hard, he'd had more than enough of waiting.

"Where the hell have you been?"

She stopped in her tracks, blinking at him. "Well, good afternoon to you, too."

"You were supposed to be here an hour ago."

"Did I miss the doctor?" Her eyebrows drew together and she scrunched her nose in a way that he was most certainly not finding adorable right now.

"No. He's late, too. Serve the lot of you right if I wasn't here when you deigned to show up."

She planted her hands on her hips and glared at him. "Yes. Absolutely. You should do that. Just ignore everything the doctor says and end up back in the ICU. It's not like anyone cares if you kill yourself."

"Well, apparently not enough to take a bit of time out of their busy little schedules and talk to me!" He was breathing heavy now, struggling to stand.

"I swear, if you take one step away from that bed, William Rupert, I'll knock you flat on your ass!" Beth yelled, crossing the room to put her hands on his shoulders.

"I'm bloody well not laying about another soddin' minute! And don't call me Rupert! Rupert's some git goes around knockin' girls up and takin' off."

"Actually, I came as soon as I heard." It was remarkable, how the soft tones cut through the yelling and brought utter and complete silence to the room. "The fact that I heard nearly thirty five years too late, however, no doubt qualifies me as a git."

Spike froze. The man's voice had come from the doorway, and Beth blocked his view, but the upper class accent and the hesitant, almost fearful tone of the voice told him all he needed to know. He turned wide eyes toward his girl and said, "Please tell me I'm not supposed to remember him showing up." His voice came out strangled. Something seemed to have lodged itself midway between his chest and his throat and started to squeeze.

Beth shook her head. "Just don't try to stand up. Lean back in the bed, and I'll take him outside and give you a minute, okay?"

He nodded, running his hands through his hair. He felt himself start to blush and shook his head. Terrific. Just his luck. Throw a tantrum worthy of a two year old, Will, that makes a wonderful first impression. "Yeah. Just a minute. I need..." He ran his hands through his hair again and closed his eyes. "Just need a bit. I look okay?" What did that matter? He didn't care. Hadn't cared in years. Never even bothered to find the man, had he?

And Beth was blinking back tears. Again. "Perfect. All alive and everything." Something else to feel guilty about, the way he kept making her cry. He was well aware that he'd scared her death, and she didn't need him being an ass on top of it.

"Okay."

"You are William Giles, yes?" The man was talking again. He wasn't hearing that yet. Or looking that way. Just for a minute.

"Dr. Giles, let's go out in the hall and give Will a minute, okay?" Beth turned, smiling toward the doorway.

"Yes. Of course." Spike caught a quick glimpse of tweed out of the corner of his eye, then the door closed behind and he could breath again.

His father was here. His actual father.

How the bloody hell had his father found him in a small town in California when there was no reason for him to even suspect he had a son at all?

Did it matter?

And Beth had gone from angry to helpful in the blink of an eye, taking care of him. Running interference to give him a bit to compose himself.

He was going to marry that girl. Eventually. Just as soon as he managed to convince her he wanted to. He intended to tie her to him and keep her forever.

Especially if she kept that person in the hall with her away from him for at least ten minutes.





Oh, crap.

Beth was smiling politely, leading the Englishman beside her toward the end of the hall where they could talk without Will hearing, and swallowing convulsively around the sudden nausea that she'd thought was finally over. And while she did all of these things, her mind was racing.

It was supposed to be the day. She'd stopped by her house to change clothes on her way to the hospital. Yes, it made her a bit late, but her uniform was getting really tight in the bust line and the belt was starting to be uncomfortable. So she'd gone home to change, and had been rehearsing the talk she was going to have with Will after they finished with the doctor. She couldn't wait another day to tell him, this was it, no more excuses.

Then Will yelled at her, and now his father had shown up. This was not good.

"What, you couldn't call first or something?" Her companion took off his glasses and pulled a handkerchief from his coat pocket to clean them. He carried a handkerchief in his coat pocket. And he had Will's eyes. Or Will had his. Whatever.

"I do apologize for the abrupt nature of my arrival, Miss - ?"

"Summers. Elizabeth Summers. Will's girlfriend. He's been through a lot lately, and frankly this probably isn't the best time for never-met fathers to drop by and say 'Hi! How have you been for thirty three years? Wanna chat?'" She was glaring at him, which was really not fair. And she knew it. But she'd had plans for today, dammit!

"Yes, well." He cleared his throat, and the glasses cleaning sped up a bit. If he wasn't careful, he was going to pop the lens out of the the frame. "Perhaps this isn't the best time. However, delaying contact was the more unacceptable alternative. Certainly you can understand my hesitance to allow him to learn that I knew of his existence and location and did not come immediately."

"Okay. That's fair." And could you be more pompous, she thought. "So you just wait here for few minutes, I'm going to go in and talk to Will, and I'll let you know when you can come in. If you can come in. This is his business."

"Of course. I have no desire to force my presence on him." Dr. Giles straightened, replacing his glasses and squaring his shoulders. "Also, I must thank you for the letter you sent."

A chill ran down the back of her neck. "Letter? Not me. Nope. No letters from me."

"Certainly I wasn't Doctor Giles when Anne knew me. And yet you addressed me as such. Therefore, you either located me yourself or at the very least were involved in the process. And it was made clear in the letter than William was not aware of the communication."

Crap. Expletive. And any other profanity that would only come to her when the shock and fear wore off. "You're mistaken."

"I see. Well, had you been the person who contacted me, I would be in your debt. Regardless of what decision William makes regarding further contact.

Just how many ways was today going to screw up before the sun went down, anyway?

Will was going to kill her.

And he would be right.

Well, damn.





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