[a/n]—in this chapter, you find out who Wes’ fiancée is. just to let you know before hand, I wanted to make Willow and Wes get together and then I realized that I had already paired her off with Oz. So, i tried to make it so that he was paired with alyson hannigan, but then i didn't like that. so i changed it AGAIN!
Also, thanks to Beth for the idea.
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Buffy looked up from her papers as Harmony knocked on the door. “Boss? Wes is on line 2 for you.”
Buffy nodded, and picked up the phone. “Buffy’s House Of Pancakes, how would you like your flapjack flipped?”
“Oh, for the love of…do you HAVE to answer the phone like that?”
“As a matter of fact, yes. I do.”
She heard him sigh on the other line and laughed, leaning back in her chair. “So,” she said, pushing her feet lightly against the desk so that she could spin slightly. “to what do I owe this WONDERFUL phone call, dear step-brother?”
“Well, Buffy, Alyson…what are you doing? Give that back! Don’t you--”
There was a rustling on the other end, and after a few minutes Buffy grew worried. “Uh, Wes? What are you doing?”
The rustling stopped, and she heard the familiar voice go, “Hey, Buff!”
“Alyson! How are you?”
Alyson and Wes had met through Buffy about one year ago. She had just finished interviewing the red haired movie star about one of her movies, when Wesley had showed up to take Buffy to lunch. Noticing the almost immediate sparks between the two, Buffy had asked Alyson to join them. Buffy had watched, amused, as the two talked animatedly to each other for almost two hours, until Buffy had had to remind Wes that she needed to get to work.
Her step-brother, completely flustered at the interruption, had asked Alyson for her number, which he received with an eager smile. The two had grown serious extremely fast, never leaving the other’s side. After their seven month anniversary, Wes had proposed to her and she had accepted. When Wesley had called Buffy, she hadn’t been able to conceal her excitement when she heard that he was marrying Alyson Daniels on the twenty-first of November.
“I’m good,” came the response from the other end. “How’s my favorite little almost-step-nephew?”
Buffy laughed, turning her chair so that she faced the window in her office that out looked the town. “One: I don’t think that could sound anymore confusing. Two: He’s good. A little temperamental since I make him sit in the stroller when all he wants to do is walk around.”
“Has he picked up on that wonderful accent that his step-uncle has? Or his step-grandpa?”
“Ugh, thank god, no! I have too many British people in my life. There’s my step-dad, Roger, and Wes, and Fred, and then Giles and then…then…Him.”
There was a silence on the other line and then, “You still never told him, have you?”
Buffy laughed through her closed mouth. “Well, I couldn’t really call up a movie star and go “Hey, guess what? You’re the father of my child!” Now could I?”
“Well, you could…um, maybe…uh…no, I guess you couldn’t.”
---
Spike groaned as he stepped out of the car, the light burning his tender irises through his Oakley sunglasses. “God, someone turn off the bloody sun.”
He placed his hand over his eyes, palm down, blocking the sun as he looked up at the grey building. “Well, if that isn’t the happiest block of concrete in the world.” He sighed, then walked into the building.
He looked around the surprisingly large lobby and whistled. “Bloody hell.”
“William?”
Spike turned, ready to give hell to whoever had called him by his real name, when he saw who it was. “Uncle Rupes?”
“William, dear boy, how are you?”
Spike took a step back as Giles tried to hug him. “’ll be a lot better when I’m out of the land of the overly cheery relatives.” He winced, bringing his palm up to his eye. “And the land of the intensely painful hangovers.”
Giles turned, and began walking with his nephew towards Buffy’s office. “Yes, well, good luck with that.” He came to a stop in front of Harmony’s desk, and said to her, “Spike Giles, 11:00 am appointment?”
Harmony sifted through her papers and said, “Um…oh, here it is! Go on in.”
Giles turned to say something to his nephew, and found he wasn’t there. “William?” He looked down the hall at Spike who was standing in a dark corner. “William, get the bloody hell over here. You’ve got an interview right now with-”
“B. Summers, yeah, I know,” was the grumbled response as Spike staggered towards him. The two Brits headed towards the office once more, and Spike said, “How long am I going to have to talk to this bloke, because I really don’t want-”
His words were cut short when Giles opened the door, and the sweetest voice drifted out to him.
---
“Oh crap,” Buffy said, glancing down at her watch. “Listen, Aly, I gotta go. My eleven’s almost here. Can you put Wes on the line for me?”
“Sure.” There was the familiar rustling for a few minutes, and then Wesley’s voice came over the line. “Yes, Buffy?”
“Listen, Wes,” Buffy said, sitting up straight as the door to her office opened. “I need you to pick William up from daycare today.”
“Why?”
“Because, I’ve got an interview with Matthew Lillard at 1, and I can’t be done in time with my other things in time to pick him up. Please, Wes?”
She heard a sigh on the other line, a sure sign that she had won the argument. “Fine. You KNOW I’m only doing this because you’re my step-sister, right?”
“Yeah,” she teased, wrinkling her nose although he couldn’t see it. “But you love me, don’t you Wes?”
There was a small laugh on the other line, and then, “Yes, you bloody bint. I love you.”
“That’s all I wanted to hear. Love you, too, Wes.”
She spun around in her chair and tried to place the phone back in the holding when she realized that all of her spinning had caused it to get tangled around her chair. “Dammit!”
She picked up the phone and spun around in the chair, trying to untangle it. “Now if I just…to the left…No! To the right and…damn. Maybe if I…”
She stopped talking to herself when she heard a throat being cleared and looked up at her doorway sheepishly. “Uh…hey, Giles!” Her smiled faded as soon as she noticed the man standing next to her boss. “And…um…hi.”
---
As had happened three days before, Spike walked in on what could only be described as the worst part of the conversation for him to hear.
“Listen, Wes. I need you to pick William up from daycare today.”
“…”
“Because, I’ve got an interview with Matthew Lillard at 1, and I can’t be done in time with my other things in time to pick him up. Please, Wes?”
“…”
“Yeah. But you love me, don’t you Wes?”
“…”
“That’s all I wanted to hear. Love you, too, Wes.”
She turned around, and the breath caught in Spike’s throat.
It was her…
She struggled with the phone line that she had managed to tangle around her chair until his uncle cleared his throat. She looked up shyly at them, and went, “Uh…hey, Giles!” Her smiled seemed to falter as soon as she registered his presence. “And…um…hi.”
Speechless, Spike merely raised his hand and gave a small wave. THIS was B. Summers? Who, according to Angel, was “the meanest, rudest, bluntest, hardest critic in the whole goddamned USA”? No.
NO.
He refused to believe that.
Unfortunately for him…he had to.
Because as much as he wanted to avoid this harsh truth, it was a bit hard, considering the even harsher reality that seemed to be repetitively smacking him in the face this month.
Because this woman, this bright eyed, apparently ruthless reporter, was the girl of his dreams.
And if all of these crappy reality checks kept up…
…he was pretty sure that soon, she would be the thing of his nightmares, too.
---
He was staring.
She wondered if he knew that he was staring at her.
Normally, she would be blushing and flustered when a huge celebrity such as himself, blatantly stared at her.
But that would be NORMALLY. Her life was anything but normal. Just ask the big guy in the sky who apparently decided that messing with her life would make for an amusing past time.
“Mr. Giles,” she said, internally wincing at how tight her throat was. “I mean, Spike…please. Sit.”
He did so, not taking his eyes off of her face.
“So, uh,” she said, turning her eyes down towards her desk. “I’m just going to ask you a few questions about your new movie, Schizophrenia. What was it like working with Dana Halliwell and Christina Lyons?”
He seemed to snap out of his stupor, and shook his head, “Right, well, Dana and I had worked on a movie together before, so we got along fine. She’s always been a breath of fresh air. And Christina? God, she’s adorable.”
Buffy’s head snapped up from her tape recording. “So…you LIKE children?”
“Like ‘em?” he said, laughing. “I love ‘em. Nothin better than a little kid thinking you’re the best thing in the world.” He paused, frowning. “That wasn’t supposed to make me sound like an ego-maniac. I meant that…it’s nice. Being the most important thing in someone’s life.” He smiled, looking past her head and out the window. “Makes me feel all manly.”
She smiled slightly, and opened her mouth to ask another question when her office door was opened, revealing Harmony. “Buffy?” she asked, looking slightly panicked.
Buffy immediately set her recorder down on her desk and said, “Harmony? What’s wrong?”
“Tara MacLay just called, from William’s school?”
“Oh, god.”
“William’s been throwing up. They took him to the nurse so he could lie down, and she took his temperature. It’s 102.7. He’s really sick, Buffy.”
Buffy paled, and stood up from her desk, gathering all of her stuff. “This is NOT my morning! First, my car runs out of gas and now…” She trailed off, glancing up at Spike. “I’m really, really sorry. My son…”
He nodded, and said, “Listen, do you need a ride there?”
She lifted her wide eyes to him, and said, “Really? I mean, I would love it, but are you sure that-”
“It won’t be a problem.”
---
20 minutes later…
Buffy rushed inside the nurses office, trying desperately to get to William as quickly as possible, Spike hot on her heels. The nurse, a pretty blonde named Darla Aurelius, looked up and said, “Oh, good, you’re here. Right this way, Ms. Summers.” She led Buffy over to one of the small beds, where a small form was huddled. “He stopped vomiting about ten minutes ago, but he’s been coughing and sniffling up a storm, not to mention his high temperature.”
Buffy sat down on the bed, rubbing the spot where her son’s back was. “Thanks, Darla.”
“No problem.” With one last glance to Buffy and then to Spike, she left to take care of the other children.
“Hey,” Buffy whispered. “Will, baby. It’s mommy.”
A small, honey blond head peeked out from under the blanket and a small, congested voice said, “Mommy?”
“Yeah, sweetie.” She leaned forward, kissing his head, forgetting that Spike was still there. “How are you feeling?”
A small wheezing cough was her answer.
“Oh, baby…” she whispered, gathering him into her arms. “Shh…it’s ok.” She pushed the blanket down his small form and picked him up, and he immediately curled into her body. “C’mon, sweets. Lets go home.”
---
On the car ride to Buffy’s house, Spike glanced over at the sight next to him.
Buffy was staring out her window, her chin resting on William’s soft hair. The boy’s eyes were closed, face flushed and his breathing ragged.
Spike winced; he had been sick with the same thing about a month ago, and it seemed to be spreading around. An uncomfortable combination of what seemed to be strep and a migraine, it was definitely one of the least pleasant experiences of his life.
He broke out of his reverie when Buffy said softly, “We live here.”
The car came to a stop, and she gathered her bag up in her arms and opened the car door. Before closing it, she looked up and locked eyes with him. “Thanks…for helping us.”
She closed the door, and made her way up the walk to her door, adjusting William on her hip.
And as she closed the door, he whispered, all alone in the confines of his car, “You’re welcome.”
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