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Disclaimer: not mine. Don’t sue!

[a/n]—don’t kill me! I’m so sorry that it’s been over a week since I last updated. It’s just, I was sick and spent my time making up the work that I missed.

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He sat on her bed for ten minutes, crying through splayed fingers.

She had left him there, unable to offer any form of comfort, no “It’s alright,” no sympathy or empathy.

The look on her face had been of discomfort, obviously unused to having emotional men break down in her bedroom. Especially if those men were famous AND the father of her child.

Her son.

THEIR son.

He had a son.

A son, whose eyes were so much like his, who was three years old.

He had missed three years of a child’s life. Worse, his child.

A soft knock on the doorframe made him look up. Buffy stood in the hallway, a peacefully dozing William balanced on her hip. “Hey,” she said. “After I put him to bed, do you want to talk some more?”

He nodded, his bloodshot eyes fixated on his child the entire time. “Yeah.”

She nodded, then padded down the carpeted hall. Spike sat on her bed for a few seconds before rising shakily to his feet and following her. He leaned on hip against the doorjamb, his left hand gripping the wood frame in a white-knuckled grip.

Buffy kissed William on the top of his head before laying him down in his race car bed. As soon as his head hit the pillow, he turned over in his sleep, legs drawn towards his chest slightly, hands resting by his face, his small, open mouth breathing small bursts of air onto the pillow. Buffy smoothed his hair back, then laid the back of her hand to his forehead. Sighing, she lifted her right knee from where it had been resting on the carpet, but stayed in a crouch as she leaned over and kissed him on the forehead.

---

Buffy handed Spike a mug of hot chocolate as he sat at her table, slowly flicking through one of William’s baby books.

As she held her steaming mug in front of her, she said, “So here’s a question: you recognized me in the restaurant, but when you saw a picture of me from four years ago, why didn’t you know who I was?”

He shut the thick book and pulled his drink towards him. “Well,” he began. “I knew you from somewhere, I just couldn’t remember where exactly. Four years ago, I went on as many one-night-only deals; so many women that you got lost in them. So, I just remembered your face, not where I knew you from.”

She didn’t say anything, and he went on the defensive. “I HAVE changed, though. I mean, I’m 27, for God’s sake!”

She shook her head. “No, I know you’ve changed. It’s the fact that you admitted to me being a one night stand that hurts. I mean, I knew it all along, but it just…hurts more.”

He opened his mouth to say something when the door opened and someone called out, “Buffy, I got your phone call. I brought Alyson; we came to see William.”

Spike glanced at Buffy, whose face was lit up. She pushed the chair out and away from the table and made her way into the hall. Spike stood up as well, following her path just in time to see her hug the man he now knew as her step-brother.

“Wes,” she said, voice muffled. “Thanks for coming.” He hugged her back, resting his chin on her head, eyes closed. Then, he opened them and they came to rest on-

“Buffy, who’s that?” Wes asked about the bowed head of Spike.

Spike raised his head and Aly gasped. “Spike?”

He smiled slightly and gave a small wave. “Hey, Alyson.”

Wes let go of Buffy and stepped closer to Aly. “How do you know each other?”

“We were in a movie together once,” Alyson said, glancing up at her fiancé. Noticing his darkening look, she said, “Wes, he’s just a friend.”

“Right,” Wes said, his eyes now lingering on his step-sister. “Buffy, a word?” he inclined his head towards the kitchen. Taking her by the elbow at her wary nod, he pulled her into the kitchen.

“Buffy,” he whispered harshly. “What are you thinking?! Bringing the father of your child into this house!”

“I didn’t call him over!” she hissed. “He just…showed up at my door with an envelope! He’s also the one who helped me get to William because my car broke down. Just…” She sighed. “ Don’t make a scene, ok?”

He pinched the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes tightly. “I’ll try,” he conceded.

She leaned up and kissed him on the cheek, then hugged him briefly. “Thank you,” she whispered. “Thank you…”

---

Spike looked up as Buffy walked back in with her step-brother. He felt a small smile pull at his lips as he took in her change of wardrobe for the first time.

Her hair lay piled on the top of her head, strands falling free every once in a while. All make-up had been scrubbed free, leaving her face natural looking. On her legs were some loose dorm pants with ‘SDU’ written on the left leg. But it was her shirt that made him smile.

A plain white cotton tee, it read in print ‘WORLD’S BEST MOM’. Under that lay a slightly smudged red hand print and a giant, scribbled ‘W’, obviously both put there by William.

“I like your shirt,” he said softly.

Buffy held out the hem of the garment and smiled. “He made it for me about a month ago.”

“’S nice,” he said.

“Yeah…thanks.

---

Two hours later, Spike sat in the large butterfly wing chair in William’s room, legs spread out, elbow propped up on the armrest, hand pressed against his chin. As the small child shifted in his bed once again, Spike drew up his legs and rested his forearms on his knees.

“It’s nice, isn’t it?”

He jumped at the sound of Buffy’s voice and looked up to see her leaning against the door, arms behind her back. “What’s nice?”

“Watching him sleep.” She shrugged. “He looks so…”

“Tiny.”

“He’s three, Spike. He IS tiny.”

He didn’t respond, and she walked further into the room. “Earlier today…you commented on my shirt.” He looked up at her, and noticed that she was fidgeting with the thing behind her back. “You know, the ‘WORLD’S BEST MOM’ one? Well, it’s just that…when he made the mom one…he made this one too.”

She held out the shirt to him, and he took it in his large hands. He ran his fingers over the handprint, and whispered, “‘World’s Best Dad’.”

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