He was worn out and not in the mood for her. All he wanted to do was shuffle off to his study, have a drink, and think about his son.
“Are you listening to me?” Cecily demanded watching him pour a whiskey at the bar in the dining room.
“Barely,” Spike answered.
“Why do you say such things to me?” Cecily whined.
“Because you’re annoying?”
“It wouldn’t kill you to be nicer to me.”
“It might, but while we’re casting stones here, how about you take some of your own advice and be nicer to me?” Spike drawled, taking a lot sip from his whiskey.
“Well,” Cecily said, grinning like madwoman and clapping her hands together like an excited school girl, “I’m about to be very nice to you.”
“You’re giving me a divorce?”
“You wish,” she said, disgustedly.
“You’re right, I do.”
“Ever think that the more I know you want one, the more I won’t give you one?”
“You don’t even love me, Cecily!”
“Love,” she balked, “What’s that? No such thing. I like you well enough, William.”
“Like me… so we’re bound for eternity as best mates, then? Do you realize that even best mates like us fuck each other once in a while?”
“That’s my good news, William. I’ve decided to put aside my concerns of growing fat and have a baby with you. I’ve spoken with my doctor and he gave me some tips. I’ve been off my birth control for over a month now--”
“Like that was needed anyway. We haven’t even had sex in …years,” Spike muttered.
Cecily continued on, “--I’m currently fertile and my temperature is just right to try and conceive.”
Spike nearly spit his whiskey out. “What??”
“I want us to have a baby now.”
His eyes narrowed, “Out with it, why do you want a child so bad now?”
Cecily pouted. “Can’t I just want to have a baby with you?”
“No, you can’t.” And I already have one.
“Why not?”
“’Cause you don’t just do something on a whim. What is it you’ll be getting if you have a baby with me?”
“My hand in the family business to make sure our child would be well provided for.”
“So, actually, more money for you.”
“Daddy said I didn’t have to show up for meetings or anything of that sort--”
“Of course not, why would you actually work?”
“But he said I would have my name on things as a silent partner. And our baby would then be set up with a trust fund.”
“Ah, which I’m sure you’d then find a loophole to dip into that. Greedy bitch.”
“It’s not just more money for me, William, its more money for you too. I wish you’d look at this reasonably.” She shook her head, rolling her eyes at him as if he were the dumbest man alive.
“There is nothing reasonable about you and I having a child, Cecily. For one thing, I can barely stand to touch you so getting it up for you would be virtually impossible. For another thing, now that I know you want a child – no way am I touching you!”
“You’re a disgusting man, you know that?” she screamed at him.
“Why don’t you ask one of your lovers to knock you up?”
“I don’t have any lovers, you arrogant jerk! You’re the one with all the lovers.”
Spike said nothing, waiting for her to continue.
“And I’d suggest you get rid of them, William, before I tell Daddy and you lose everything.”
“I already don’t have anything, Cecily, so losing everything wouldn’t make much of a difference would it?”
“I made you into somebody, William, you’d do well to remember that,” she spat.
“I hate you!” he screamed at her.
“And you can continue to hate me, silly William. I’m never going to let you go. Think about the baby idea. Daddy would love it, you’d make him so proud, and all that nothing you claim to have could turn into something.”
She bounced away as if their exchange hadn’t happened and a revelation of sorts hit Spike: “I’d rather have nothing than something from you and your family.”
Buffy was convinced that not only was sleep something she was never going to have again, but that her son was the most beautiful boy in the world.
“Does that feel weird?” Doyle asked, watching her breast feed with great interest.
Of course, Buffy was covered up as well she could, though she was of the mindset now that since everyone in the damn hospital had seen all her bits and pieces, there really wasn’t a thing as modesty anymore. At least not for her. And, after talking with Faith about her experience in delivery, Faith held the same feeling. However, it could be held accountable that Faith was never much one for modesty to begin with.
“No, not really. I mean, I think I’m used to it now. Just feels like little gums on my boob.”
Doyle laughed from his place on her recliner. “Interesting way to describe it.”
“So I was thinking this morning—“
“And that was at what time?” Doyle asked, smiling mischievously.
“Um…three I think. I was thinking while I fed him at three that I need to set up his college fund.”
“Already?”
“No time like the present. My boy is going places, I tell you.”
“Well, currently, he’s not even rolling over, so let’s not push too hard.”
“I’m not. My parents set up one for me when I was born. It helped a great deal, let me tell you. And when he gets older and gets an allowance, I can teach him the art of saving and convince him to put at least ten percent in his bank account.”
Doyle laughed again. “That’ll go over real well with a ten-year-old that wants to buy a Game Boy.”
“You’ll see,” Buffy chirped.
“Or, you will.”
Buffy gave him a mock glare and then went back to watching her son suckle his milk from her breast. Softly, she ran her fingers through his mop of brown curls.
“Buffy.”
“Yes?”
“Look at me, lass.”
Buffy looked up, feeling nervous suddenly by the look of unmasked adoration on Doyle’s face.
“You’re beautiful nursing him, taking care of him. You glow.”
“I do?” she laughed nervously. “I’ve had no sleep in a week!”
“Doesn’t matter. You’re beautiful.”
“Thank you,” she said softly, and looked back at Brandon.
Silence fell and Buffy studied Brandon, marking for the hundredth time that day how he had his father’s nose and, she was sure when he was older, would have his father’s cheekbones as well.
A tear trickled down her cheek and hastily she wiped at it before Doyle could notice. Yet, he did. He always did.
“Lass, what is it?” he asked, concerned and came over to sit next to her on her couch, placing a warm, comforting hand on her back.
“You don’t want to know.”
“I do, tell me.”
“I was just thinking that he…Brandon has his father’s features.”
“He has yours too.”
“Not as much as Spike’s.”
“Lass--”
“I know, I know,” she said wiping at her eyes with the receiving blanket she had on her lap, “I have to get over it, I know. But it’s just that it was one thing when I was pregnant, and now that he’s here…I see his father and it’s like I’m reminded that much more and…I’m going to get over it. I’m just hormonal right now.”
“You’re allowed, sweets.”
“I know, I just hate it.” Lifting Brandon and covering herself up, Buffy began to lightly pat her son’s back.
“Buffy—” Doyle started, but the doorbell cut him off.
“Who the hell is that?” Buffy muttered and stood, patting her son’s back still. He usually gave her at least two good burps and so far, she’d gotten none.
“Do you want me to get that?” Doyle asked.
“Nah, I got it.” Padding to the door, she opened it, expecting it to be Willow or Faith.
It wasn’t either.
“Spike,” she said, stunned.
“Hi, Buffy,” he said, nervously, his eyes darting to Brandon.
She held her son closer. “What do you want?” she asked.
“I wanted to see him,” Spike said, pointing to his boy.
“Why?”
“Buffy, I’m not here to take him from you. I wouldn’t do that, luv. I just want to see my son.”
She turned slightly so that Spike could get a better view of his face. “See?”
Spike stepped inside, his face lighting up brilliantly, making him look like a little boy at Christmas. “He’s so beautiful.”
As if he were waiting for that, Brandon let out a big burp.
“And gassy,” Spike joked and for the first time in a long time, Buffy and Spike shared a laugh.