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“Oh no. I’m not doing that again!” Buffy took three large steps backward and gave Spike and the bottle of mixed-up formula her semi-evil eye. She eyed her fresh and still orange shirt and whimpered, not eager for a fourth shower for the day. “You do it. She loves you.”

Spike arched a brow, secretly chuffed that the Slayer of all people could admit to him that the Big Bad was the object of a tiny girl’s affections. Bloody hell he was going soft. But he grinned anyway.

“Right then. I’ll be the manly man of the house and give the baby her bottle, and you can be the woman and go and construct the cot.”

Buffy shot him a dirty look. ‘Evil’ she mouthed at him slowly, Spike becoming quickly mesmerised by the movement of her glistening lips. But before he could put Lia down and pounce on that lip that pouted out beyond reasonable measures, she’d spun on her heel, eyeing the boxes and the room around her.

“Um, where should I set it up do you think?”

Spike eyed her, mystified at where their mortal enemy number one bickering status had gone, wondered why he didn’t feel the urge to grab her and crack her neck for bringing him to such a humiliating level. The squirming baby caused him to finally tear his eyes from the blond who had been the bane of his existence for the past two years of his very long unlife. He felt like he had been trying to kill the bint since he first lost his living breath. That’s how much she frustrated him. It only took the whine of her voice, though, to replace the harsh images of death and glorious bloodshed and remind him that he’d had her blood, and no chip firing seemed to indicate that he wanted something from her other than to eat away the rest of her life.

And she wanted to know where to construct the cot…crib…bloody cot for Satan’s sake.

“Er, knowing mites like I do,” he started when interrupted by her disbelieving cough and he shot her a menacing glare, “would be best to have her close to where we’re sleepin’.”

Her coughing turned into ugly choking sounds and he turned away, grinning into the curve of his arm as he directed the bottle’s nipple to the starving baby’s eager lips.

“We?” she squeaked, almost like she had no clue how he could have ever put her and himself in a room together.

“Rupert’s room makes the most sense. Nice big comfy bed, lotsa room and no baby stuff clutterin’ up the space down here. Gimme a mo an’ I’ll help you with the boxes.”

“NO,” she shouted at him nervously, already pulling the box toward the stairs and up to Giles’s loft bedroom. “I-I’ve got it, I think.” She shrugged her hair forward to cover the flame in her cheeks and heaved the heavy box up the stairs.

The vamp of experience took little time to burp the baby properly, letting her rest over his shoulder on the top of a rug that had been with a couple included in the nappy bag. He screwed his face up in irritation. He supposed they’d call it a diaper bag or something else as equally confusing and odd. Oh well, it protected his duster and that was the main thing. Baby sick was an absolute bitch to leather. A quick change of her pants and she was all quiet and comfy, batting her sleepy lashes at him as he took himself a good look.

She was a light brown, not really like that chit that claimed Giles was the doting dad. But the curly black hair was enchanting, the sparkling ocean blue eyes hypnotic as she made baby noises and sucked Spike in even farther.

“You’re a right little peach, aren’t you, bit?” He couldn’t keep back the smile, couldn’t prevent the small little beat on the edge of his heart that sang praises for this little pile of girl that made him want to be her dad. ‘Cept it was Giles, and that brought a frown to his face.

There was nothing of the tweedy wanker in Lia. In fact… He sniffed at her face, burying his nose in her small fleshy neck and dragged in her scent through his nostrils, smelling nothing of the watcher in the babe; feeling nothing that inspired him to want to spill her blood. What he did smell made his head spin.

“Bloody hell!” he exclaimed, smiling widely as he rocked her gently, humming softly as her eyes drifted that last length to fully closed and she was back asleep. He placed her once again in the carrier, grinning like a fool. He wasn’t bothered so much as bewildered, but he was losing his heart as slowly and surely as he had closed it down in this last year since Dru dumped him.

He took the stairs two at a time till he was standing right in front of a red and flustered Buffy, grinning and excited and hopeful. He grabbed her crouching form, tossed her into the air and caught her again, spinning in a euphoric circle before collapsing in a tangle of legs and arms on the bed.

“Garaqua demon, luv.” His fierce happiness had his arms around her like steel bands, holding her hard against his body as he rolled them back and forth. He’d never felt so happy in all his unlife and bloody hell was he glad he’d guilted the bleeding git to hightail it after the dishonest bint.

“And I say loudly, huh?” Buffy squirmed against him, not entirely disliking the effects it had on his body as she found herself shifting to accommodate her different slopes and bumps to fit better against him.

She shuddered when he fell between her legs, his elated face buried against her exposed skin even as his hands were pushing up the hem.

God, it all felt so good. He wanted to taste her so bad, share his mood and celebrate the power of the vamp nose for solving mysteries. It wasn’t until he’d removed her top and had his tongue teasing her nipple while his fingers twisted the other that he saw the pitfalls of telling the secret too soon.

Maybe not the best to tell her she was babysitting for someone other than her Watcher. She’d run, leave the little one to his evil decisions, and the thought of that happening now hurt. Made his balls ache almost as much as that little awakened section of his heart.

He pulled back from her, releasing the nipple with a slurping plop and raised his eyes to meet the Slayer’s. No way was he giving this up yet. No way did he want her to start looking at him like he was nothing but an evil soulless monster all over again. Something had changed today, something that brought them to spread out on the surface of Rupert’s bed. Something that put that little spark of uncertainty, shyness and fear in her gaze but also showed the heat of her curiosity.

It seemed more than reasonable that if he was changing, then so might she be. And so, holding her eyes and melting in the fire of the jade, he claimed her lips in a gentle kiss. Only a slight hesitation and she curled her hand into the back of his head, her fingers sorting curls by kink and length. He sighed into her mouth and felt that section of his heart begin to expand, sucking in more feeling as it applied to the responsive woman in his arms.

The kiss was long and wet, gentle caressing tongues as they explored the newness of what they felt with each other. He consumed her taste, felt lightheaded with her heat and wanted nothing better than to slide along with her naked while the night was quiet.

But it had all changed in the blink of an eye; whatever carnal delight he’d stolen from her earlier in the day, he wasn’t going to receive this time. She had him caught—through her maddeningly delicious fingers loving his hair, her sweet sublime mouth that loved his lips with a passion that had him hard and waiting, with her body, pressed gently and engagingly against all the bits that hurt.

Yeah, changed, but so much better. So much juicier as he felt hypnotised by the roar of her blood, wanting nothing but to taste her passion on his tongue as she spilled past his fangs. To feel the alteration within her, too, as she gave a little of her heart back to him.

He was turning back into that poofy-haired poem-loving ponce and for once it didn’t seem to hurt half as bad as it always had around Dru. She’d seen him walk in other worlds alright, but that didn't mean she accepted them. Poetry with Buffy seemed right, beautiful words building a picture of them as a family.

“Buffy,” he whispered into her collarbone, his tongue licking the sensitive flesh as she shuddered in his arms. His vision had hazed, passion taking him to the brink of love’s bitch once again. Love for the little girl downstairs, and maybe not love for the Slayer he loved to hate, but definitely something. Something potent and strong.

When he felt a shy hand slowly creep up underneath the front of his tee, he held in his breath, wanting to whimper like a little girl. He wanted this more than he’d ever thought possible. Their encounters this morning were based on his carnal lust without doubt, but this had more than a dash of sensitivity that altered his approach.

“Spike? Th-this is wr—“

He pounced on her lips in a fury, not caring if what he was doing was wrong, never caring if he was doing the thing that was moral or just. He was evil for fuck’s sake. Why did tasting her skin make him want to change who he was? He’d forgotten the chip, forgotten that whether there was this right now he was still fundamentally altered from who he had always been. For now there was the girl. The one that lay writing against him even as she said this feeling was wrong, that the rightness of what they were doing to each other shouldn’t bloody well be.

Well, as far as Spike was concerned, she could take her self-righteous claptrap and shove it where the bleeding Powers could never find it.

He ate away her protests as his tongue licked down her body, finding the waistband of her pants and loosening it until it slid down her legs. She offered no more argument, her body completely surrendering to his mastery and he felt the relief reverberate right throughout his body.

His nose nudging against her cleft before his tongue dived in to part her was the last of her denial; a strangled moan caught in her throat as she let her legs part a little wider for him. His tongue swept up the inner lips, gliding over the smooth flesh even as the roughness of her pussy hair scratched the edges of his lips. He pushed the fleshy appendage into her depths, twisting it inside her as he struggled to take all she had, struggled to imprint himself on the most sensitive flesh deep within her.

His teeth grazed her clit first, followed by a worshipful tongue as she bucked against him in the most ladylike display of passion he had ever seen. It brought a smirk to his lips that did nothing but tease them both, and he used all his oral talents to show her how irreplaceable he was to her now.

He wanted her and Spike would use everything he had to keep her.

Even if that meant misleading her about the origins of Lia.

Her thighs squeezed around his ears hard and he could feel the slow build of a pulse that was the precursor to her losing control completely. Her pussy jutted out sharply into his mouth, her clit rubbing against the ridges of his teeth. She screamed, her voice echoing in his ears as well as the walls as he drank her down, supped at her till he felt lazy and relaxed.

Like he had eaten a perfect dinner.

He abandoned the sensitive flesh to press kisses of gratitude against her inner thigh, his fingers stroking the hair that covered the best kept secret in all the world as far as he was concerned.

They were both satisfied and fell asleep—Buffy naked and legs spread, an evil but chipped vampire cushioned against the pillowy softness of her thigh. Feeling too good to move. Feeling the drag to slumber too strong. Feeling the awareness too confusing.

Sleep offered the most comfort and for now, guiltless escape.


A/N...it would appear that I am on a roll, neglecting all my other fics. Anyway, many thanks to: Slaymesoftly, Allison, bloodshedbaby, Mari, Bridget, BuffyandSpikeForever, Francesca, Crystal Pegasus, Demonica Mills, Buffy Rat, cari, pj, Cordykitten, shippy, Kimber, Anne, Brunettepet, Niamh, Isabel, and Seraiza. I hope you all like this one!





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