Chapter 15: December 2005
Spike stripped off his shirt, revealing pale skin marked with livid scratches. He and Wesley had just had a profitable, though slightly painful, night of demon slaying, and now all he really wanted was a shower and a drink. Hopefully, he could distract himself from the goings-on upstairs.
It wasn’t that he begrudged his friends their happiness; Wesley and Nika were clearly in the joyous exploratory stage of their relationship. It was, in fact, moving along quite nicely, propelled by a solid friendship. While they knew each other well, the physical aspect was all new.
Unfortunately for him, due to enhanced vampire senses, Spike could sense all their rapidly progressing physical exchanges. At least they hadn’t gotten too noisy yet.
He sighed. If he had any idea what was going on with Buffy, he might be a little happier with their situation, but he didn’t. The morning she had left, Spike hadn’t wanted to ask if she wanted to see him again, and Buffy hadn’t offered. The fear of rejection was too great to risk the question.
Days had gone by and she hadn’t called. Spike knew she had his cell number, but he had no idea if she’d even get a hankering to talk to him. Maybe all she’d really wanted was closure, and that’s what she’d gotten. Perhaps they’d see each other occasionally and talk as old friends might, with nothing more between them.
Spike gave his cell phone, tossed carelessly on the sofa, a longing glance. He could call her. He doubted she’d mind. On the other hand, he couldn’t bear to hear the dismissive note in her voice again, the tone that told him she didn’t care. There was no reason to stick his neck out for her; he had friends, a nice place to live—he didn’t need Buffy.
That didn’t mean he didn’t still want her.
Scrubbing one hand over his face, Spike grabbed some clean clothing and headed for the shower. At least the noise of the water would help mask the sounds of the make-out session above him.
By the time he got out of the shower, having rather spitefully made certain he used all the hot water, the only thing Spike could hear were murmurs and slow heartbeats. He half-wondered if Wesley would be going home tonight, or if he’d stay. Spike plunked himself down on the sofa and turned on the TV, idly flipping channels. He’d just managed to find a suitably violent movie when his phone started ringing.
Not bothering to look at the caller I.D., Spike answered it. “Yeah.”
“Spike?”
“Buffy?” He blinked. He hadn’t really expected her to call.
There was a pause, and then, “Yeah, it’s me. How are you?”
“Good,” Spike said cautiously, muting the TV and settling into the couch. “You?”
“I’m good,” she said. “I was going to call you earlier, but I thought I’d go on patrol first.”
“‘s okay. Not like I was in bed or anythin’. Find anything good on patrol?”
She laughed. “Not really. A few new vamps, and that’s about it. It’s been slow around here lately. What about you?”
Spike briefly told her about the job he and Wesley had been out on, and when she seemed interested, gave her a blow-by-blow account of the fight. Since it had involved several rather spectacular moves on his part, he wasn’t above a little bragging. As the story wound down, he couldn’t help wondering about the reason for her call. “Was there something you needed, Slayer?” he finally asked.
“Yes and no,” Buffy said slowly. “I mean, I just wanted to talk to you.”
“Oh,” Spike said intelligently. That was new. Sort of. It was a lot more like it had been right after Buffy had come back from the dead. Only better. Maybe. Spike thought his head might explode from the bewilderment their relationship was causing him. “What did you want to talk about?”
“Nothing. I just wanted to hear your voice.” It was as close to saying she missed him as Buffy was willing to go. After all, she had only Dawn’s word to go on that he missed her.
There was a silence as Buffy wondered whether she’d stepped across some invisible boundary. Spike was still trying to decrypt the meaning behind her statement. “‘s good to hear your voice too, pet,” he said, struggling to find some neutral ground that wouldn’t betray his heart too badly. “But you said yes on the needin’ something too, yeah?”
Buffy took a deep breath. She didn’t want to use him. She’d promised herself that she wasn’t going to go down that road, not again. “The guy—the father, you know—has some papers he wants me to sign. I was wondering if you wouldn’t mind coming with me. If you’re busy, or you don’t want to, or something that’s fine. I just thought it would be nice to have some moral support.”
There wasn’t anyone else who could go with her. Even though she didn’t say it, Spike knew it was true since Dawn had said everybody else was out of town till Christmas. “Why me?” he asked warily.
“I—because it would be nice if you could be there,” Buffy finally said, well aware that it wasn’t the whole truth. “And because I’d kind of like to see you again.”
Spike took a deep, unneeded breath. What was this? What did she want from him? And could he give it to her? “Do I get to kill him?”
He could hear the smile in her voice when she replied. “No, Spike. It’s just—he’ll have his lawyer with him, and I don’t—I don’t want to be alone.”
It wasn’t precisely fear that he could hear in her voice. He wasn’t sure what it was, though. “When are you s’posed to sign these papers?”
She sighed in relief. Buffy wanted an excuse to ask him up, to see him again. “It’s Friday evening, around 6:30. I wanted to do it late enough in the day so if you could come down—you know.” This time of the year, the sun sets early.
Spike smiled a little. She didn’t want him frying, is what she was saying. But in order to get down there by the appointed hour, he would have to leave before sunset. “Be a bit hard to get up there while the sun’s still up, luv,” he reminded her. “All ‘ve got is the bike.”
“Oh. Well, you could come down before then,” she suggested. “If you want to. That is, if you don’t mind.”
Spike wasn’t sure he didn’t mind. Yet their last meeting had been more than civil; it had been down-right friendly. She wanted him there for moral support, which meant she wasn’t ashamed of being seen with him. Not with her wanker of an ex, at least. It would mean leaving tonight, so he could get there before dawn. A fact he reminded her of.
“I know,” Buffy replied, and he could hear that she was torn. “If you don’t want to, I’ll be fine. But I would like to see you again sometime.”
Spike paused, listening to the silence above him, thinking about it. Wesley didn’t have any jobs on the line for the next couple days, as far as he knew. He could go now. “And then what?”
“I don’t—”
“I come, an’ then what?” Spike asked. “Your friends are comin’ back in a few weeks. You gonna want to see me when they get into town?”
It was a fair question, and Buffy knew it. “If you’re asking me if things change when they’re here, the answer’s no, Spike.”
“Alright,” he replied, making an impulsive decision. It wasn’t like he was moving back to Sunnydale again, after all. He was going to go up, catch some shut-eye, and accompany Buffy on her errand. Then he would come back to L.A. “I’ll see you in a few hours.”
Spike grabbed his jacket and keys and came up the stairs, only to run into Wesley in the kitchen. “You not stayin’?” he asked, seeing that the other man also had his coat on.
“Probably best,” Wesley said, looking a little embarrassed. “Neither of us are quite ready for that next step. If we’re going to wait, I shouldn’t stay here.” He gave Spike a look. “You’re going out?”
“Buffy called,” Spike explained. “She wants some company when she sees that bloke’s lawyer. ‘s tomorrow evening, after sunset.”
“But you have to leave tonight,” Wesley said in understanding. He hesitated, and then asked quietly, “Do you think this is wise, Spike?”
“Dunno,” Spike replied quietly. “But she said she wanted to see me again, even if I didn’t help her out with this. Said it was up to me.” His eyes got a faraway look to them. “Won’t lie to you, mate. ‘d love it if she welcomed me with open arms an’ begged me not to leave, but ‘s not goin’ to happen.”
“You don’t know that,” Wesley said, trying to be encouraging. “Perhaps she’ll want you to stay.”
“That’s the thing,” Spike said. “I’m not goin’ to stay.”
“I thought—”
Spike shook his head. “Not goin’ there, Wesley. This is where my life is, with you an’ Nika. Whatever my feelings for Buffy might be, an’ whatever she might be feelin’ right now, it doesn’t change that.”
“And if Buffy wants to come to L.A.?” Wesley asked knowingly.
Spike raised an eyebrow. “That’ll be the day hell freezes over.”
~~~~~
Spike reached the front door of 1630 Revello in a little under two hours by virtue of having pushed his bike to its limits. Parking the motorcycle in the driveway, he pulled off his helmet and tucked it under one arm, then grabbed his saddle bags and tossed them over his shoulder.
He wasn’t a big fan of wearing a helmet, but as Wesley often reminded him, it was the law in California. And, since he wasn’t eating people anymore, Spike didn’t want to risk getting pulled over. Not being totally evil could seriously cut into your ability to flaunt the law.
The door swung open before he could knock, leaving him to face Buffy without the chance to compose himself. She was obviously ready to stay in for the evening, since she had a set of flannel pajamas on. Not saying anything, she backed off, stepping aside to let him enter. When he still hesitated, she said, “Your invitation is still good here, Spike.”
He smiled, a little shyly, and stepped across the threshold. Oddly, it felt like the first time again, in a way. Or more like when she’d re-issued her invitation, the night she’d died (the second time). Spike hadn’t overly appreciated being invited into her home when he’d teamed up with her to stop Angelus. It wasn’t until he’d thrown it all away that he had realized what had been lost.
And wasn’t that always the case? You never knew what you had until you’d lost it all.
“I hope you don’t mind, but I got my old room ready for you,” Buffy was saying. “I moved into mom’s a while back. But there are blankets over the windows, so you should be okay.”
“That’s fine, luv,” Spike replied. He knew it was late, and that she was probably ready to go to bed. “I’ll just entertain m’self for a while, if that’s alright. Not quite ready for sleep yet.”
He hadn’t even noticed that he’d used the endearment, though Buffy had. She didn’t say anything about it though. There was a part of her that wanted to stay up with him, that wanted to ask if he really didn’t mind coming. The part of her that was becoming a responsible adult knew she had work in the morning, and that it was already going to be hard enough to haul herself out of bed.
“Feel free,” Buffy invited. “There are movies and stuff, if you want to plug a video in, and there’s blood in the fridge if you’re hungry.”
Spike nodded, feeling ill at ease. He’d wanted this very thing so many times before. In fact, the vampire could say that at one point he would have given everything for the offer to stay the night. In a sense, the invitation to stay now meant more than the offer of sex would have. It meant more to him to stay in her house as her guest and her friend, than to stay there as her lover.
It didn’t change the awkwardness, however. He still had no idea what she wanted from him.
Buffy seemed to feel it too, standing poised at the bottom of the stairs, prevaricating between going up and staying with him. Feeling that she needed to do something, she finally said, “I’m glad you could come, Spike.”
A little of the tension dissipated, and he smiled at her. “My pleasure, Buffy.”
As she climbed the stairs to go to bed, she realized why that smile had seemed so out of place on his face. It was so rare to see an expression on his face that wasn’t smirking or leering or hurt.
At the door to her bedroom, she half-turned, thinking to go down. To explain again what had happened to her, to them. To apologize for dismissing all his potential. Her hand tightened on the knob. They could have been happy. She’d suspected the truth, but now she knew.
They could have been so good together.
Downstairs, Spike stood in the living room. He could hear Buffy’s footsteps, hear her pause at the door to her room. Idly, he wondered what would happen if he went up to her. Not that he would; Spike had promised himself that he wouldn’t fall into that trap again.
But he wondered—what it would be like to make love to her in her own bed, have her invite him in. He could still smell her, taste her, remember what it had been like. At least he knew what the sex was like. Making love to the Slayer, with her wanting it as much as he, had been something that happened only in his richest dreams. But he wondered—what it would be like to wake up with her by his side, to have a conversation without her running away.
He realized he had taken a longing step towards the stairs, and pulled himself back. It was over—that part of his unlife was done.
But he could have made it so good for her, if only she had let him.
~~~~~
Spike woke up late the next afternoon, just as Buffy was coming in from work. “Spike, you up?” she called up the stairs. “We’ve got to leave in an hour or so.”
“I’m awake,” he called. Standing and stretching, he opened the bedroom door to find Buffy in the hallway. “How was work?”
“Work,” she replied with a rueful smile. “It’s never all that exciting.”
“‘s too bad you can’t do what Wesley an’ I do for a livin’.” Spike grinned at her. “It’d be right up your alley.”
“That’s one way to put it,” Buffy agreed. “I’m going to get cleaned up, if you’re hungry.”
Spike nodded. “Yeah, ‘m a bit peckish.” As Buffy had promised, there was blood in the fridge for him. While he waited for his mug-full to heat up, he poked around in the cupboards, noticing with a sense of relief that they were better stocked than they had been a few years ago. There was more fresh stuff as well, indicating that Buffy might actually be cooking now.
As he stood, drinking his dinner and waiting for Buffy to come back down, Spike struggled with the sense of the fantastic. If someone had told him even a few weeks before that he would be standing in the Slayer’s kitchen, drinking blood she’d bought for him, and waiting to go out with her, he would have told them they were off their nut.
Buffy came into the kitchen after he’d finished his meal. Spike was standing by the back door, looking out into the yard and the rapidly lengthening shadows. “What are you thinking of?”
“Nothin’.” Spike turned to face her. “Just—how many times I’d been back there, ‘s all. How long it had been since the last time.” He fiddled with his lighter. “Thought I might wait a few minutes and go have a smoke.”
“You could have one on the way,” Buffy suggested. “We have to leave soon anyway.”
He nodded. “Might be better to wait then. ‘s not good to smoke ’round you right now.” Spike hesitated, then asked the question that had been bugging him. “You want to tell me what signin’ these papers is all about? Didn’t think it took a contract to have a kid.”
“You wouldn’t think so, would you?” Buffy asked. Her eyes were shadowed with regret. Getting involved with Peter had been a phenomenally stupid decision on her part. “Peter doesn’t want the baby, and I don’t want him involved. It’s a mutual and binding agreement so we both make sure we get what we want.”
“And who wants what more?” Spike asked softly, smelling a rat. “Buffy—”
She shook her head. “I’ve done the uninvolved father thing, Spike. I would rather raise a child on my own and never have them know their dad, than have them disappointed every time he breaks a promise. Besides, I fought for custody over Dawn. I don’t want to have the same problem with my own child.”
Spike nodded slowly, understanding. “Makes sense. ‘s not like the kid’s goin’ to be hurtin’ for people. Probably have more aunts and uncles than they know what to do with.”
Buffy smiled in appreciation for his attempt at comfort. “I’m sure.” She glanced over at the clock. “Come on. We should go.”
The drive to the lawyer’s office was made in silence, neither of them knowing what to say. Spike had yet to acknowledge the jealousy he felt towards this man. He knew Buffy wasn’t his girl; as she’d said herself, she would never be his girl. He still felt as though he had a sort of proprietary interest.
Buffy was his Slayer. He’d marked his territory the first time he’d seen her on the dance floor of the Bronze. His to kill; his to love. Never mind that she had refused to oblige him on both counts.
She cut the engine on her mom’s old SUV and looked over at the vampire. “No matter what happens, you can’t kill him,” Buffy said forcefully.
“I’m on a strictly non-human diet right now,” he reminded her, a trifle hurt that she thought he’d needed the warning.
“That’s not what I’m talking about,” Buffy said quietly. “I just want to sign the papers and get it over with. Okay, Spike?”
Spike tried to figure out what she wasn’t telling him. “Sure, luv. If that’s what you want.” He followed her into the building, feeling a bit like a bodyguard, and he suddenly wondered when it was that the Slayer couldn’t watch her own back.
The office was plush, and Spike could smell the money. Whoever this ponce was, he was capable of taking care of Buffy and the baby. He just didn’t want to.
Spike knew which of the two men was her ex immediately. It had to be the guy that looked a bit like Angel. He wasn’t sure whether to be angered or disgusted or even just a trifle amused by the resemblance. When the man opened his mouth to speak, Spike understood Buffy’s caution not to kill him.
“So, I see you already found a replacement, huh, Buf? Didn’t take you too long.” Spike longed to wipe the smirk off of his face, but Buffy spoke before he could react.
“Spike’s an old friend of the family, Peter,” she replied, a touch of steel in her voice. “Can we just get this over with?”
“Why don’t we all have a seat,” the lawyer suggested smoothly, introducing himself as Mr. Banks. He pulled out the contract, two copies, and handed one to Buffy. “If you just want to initial and sign where I’ve marked, we’ll be all through.”
Buffy picked up the pen, ready to get it done, but Spike laid a gentle hand on hers. “Not just yet, Buffy. You should look over it first.”
“It’s just what we agreed on,” Peter said impatiently, ready to go now that he’d failed to get a rise out of either his ex or her friend.
Spike gave him a hard look, reminding himself that eating the bugger wasn’t an option. Plus, he probably wouldn’t taste all that great anyway. “I think we’ll read it just the same.”
He skimmed quickly, picking up the various clauses without difficulty. Spike could tell when Buffy gave up, trusting him to catch anything out of the ordinary. As the man had said, it was what they agreed upon, but there were a few extra clauses that caught Spike’s eye and made his borrowed blood boil.
Giving Buffy a tight nod to let her know that he hadn’t found anything that should prevent her from signing, Spike watched as she initialed and signed. She gave a sigh of relief once she’d finished both copies, and Mr. Banks handed one to her. “It was a pleasure doing business with you, Ms. Summers.”
“Sure,” Buffy replied, a little of her usual sarcasm in her voice. “It was good to see you, Peter. Hope it doesn’t happen again any time soon.”
Peter shrugged. “I’m moving—elsewhere. If you need to contact me, you can do it through my lawyer. Have fun with the brat, Buf.”
Spike could picture himself tossing the man through the plate glass window behind him, but satisfied himself with letting out a low growl. Blue eyes met brown in a battle of wills, and it was Peter who looked away first, his face flushing. “You should be ashamed of yourself,” Spike said softly. “You’re no man.”
He followed Buffy out the door, his anger burning like a bright flame, and he couldn’t say with whom he was more upset: Peter or Buffy. “I’ll drive,” he said shortly, waiting until Buffy gave him the keys and sliding behind the wheel.
There was a moment of strained silence, and Buffy said quietly, “Thanks for not making a scene.”
“Yeah.” Spike put the key in the ignition, but didn’t start it. “What the bloody hell did you ever see in that bastard?”
Buffy’s jaw tightened. The question sounded more like an accusation, and the Slayer wasn’t feeling all that thrilled with the circumstances herself. She felt a lot like she had right after the Parker fiasco—ashamed and used. “Spike—”
“Did you know he has plans? Prob’ly to run for office, given the stench of money and the clauses,” Spike said angrily. “Part of that contract you just signed prohibits you from even acknowledging him as the father—ever. It’s not just about money, Buffy, it’s about his reputation. He’s keepin’ his clean an’ treatin’ you like garbage.”
“It doesn’t matter,” Buffy said. “It’s not like our relationship was ever built to last anyway.”
“But you let him—”
“So what?” Buffy demanded. “I’m an adult, Spike. I can sleep with anybody I want to. I wanted to sleep with Peter. I did. End of story. So he’s a bastard. He’s not the first one I’ve ever slept with.”
The silence that fell was deadly, the implications of Buffy’s words clear to both of them She didn’t hasten to correct his conclusions. “So you were just usin’ him then, is that right? Just a good roll in the hay to make you feel?”
“Well, it’s not like you were around to do the honors,” Buffy shot back, angry at his words and the truth behind them. In actuality, she’d liked Peter, just as she’d liked Parker. They’d given her a snow job, and she’d fallen for it.
Spike’s eyes blazed. “Shall I remind you why I left, Buffy?” He started the engine with a savage jerk of the keys. “I’ll take you home.”
The damage had been done again. Buffy wondered how it was that they always knew just what to say to hurt the most. Even when they were enemies, with no hint of anything softer between them, they had seen one another clearly enough to inflict damage. Buffy had known to go after Drusilla, what to say to tease and taunt. Spike had known just what truth to speak to cut to the quick.
He had spoken the truth tonight, and it had the peculiar echo of memory.
“Spike—”
“Forget it,” he snarled. “I shouldn’t have come.”
“I’m sorry.” The words hung suspended, and Buffy thought he might throw them back in her face. “It’s just—I liked him a lot. I thought he was different.”
Spike’s knuckles turned white around the steering wheel as he fought himself, fought the demon within. Just because he didn’t look at humans as a natural resource anymore didn’t mean it was always easy. He finally let out a breath. “You hungry?”
“Starving,” Buffy replied, not knowing quite where the vampire was going with that.
He didn’t say anything, however, simply put the car in reverse and left the parking lot. A few minutes later, Spike pulled into the lot of one of the better restaurants in town. “Come on.” Spike had a quick word with the hostess when they entered, and they were led back to a corner booth, well away from most of the other patrons.
“I shouldn’t have said what I did.” Spike met her eyes, the blue as dark as the night sky. “Don’t like to see you hurt. An’ I wanted to toss the arse-wipe out the window.”
Buffy smiled. “Yeah, you and me both.”
“He didn’t know you were the Slayer, did he?”
“No.” Buffy sighed. “None of them really knew. I didn’t think they could handle it.”
“How many—” Spike stopped himself. “No, don’t answer that. ‘s not important.” There was a pause. “What are you goin’ to do now?”
Buffy shook her head. “Work until I can’t, I guess. I haven’t had the job for long enough to qualify for maternity leave. I’ll either have to go back right away, or figure something else out. Giles is working on something with the Council for me.”
“The Council of Wankers?” Spike asked with a raised brow. “Sure you want them in your life?”
“No, but apparently I’m one of the first Slayers ever to get pregnant. Most of the time we die before we’re old enough to be out on our own. Giles thinks he might be able to strong-arm them into giving me a pension, or something like that.” Buffy shrugged a little. “Giles thinks that the activity around the Hellmouth might be changing, dying down a little. If so, I might not even have to stay in Sunnydale.”
“Where would you go?” Spike asked, fiddling with his silverware.
Buffy laughed a little. “I don’t know. If you’d asked me a year ago, I would have said Europe, Africa, anywhere. I’ve never gotten the chance to go to a different country. We were supposed to as a family—before I got Called. After that, it wasn’t an option.” She looked down at the table, at Spike’s hands, so strong. She remembered the feel of those hands with longing.
She remembered how safe she’d felt putting her sister’s life into those hands. How safe she’d felt putting her own life there. Even after she had known the chip didn’t work on her, Buffy had never feared that Spike would drain her dry.
She had believed in his love without even knowing she did so.
“And now,” Buffy said, continuing, “there’s not much I can do with a baby. Not for a while anyway. Did you know how expensive having a kid is?”
“I can imagine,” Spike replied. He was still angry, but not so much at Buffy. There was a reason that he hadn’t been able to kill her that night on her porch; he hadn’t been able to stand seeing her in pain. In that moment he had accepted his fate. He loved the Slayer; she was going to treat him like shit.
The real letdown had been the way she treated him like nothing but a monster, after treating him like a man before she’d died.
Spike sighed. “Didn’t come here to get all over your case, pet.”
“I know you didn’t,” Buffy said. “I should have known. It was almost like—you know. One minute he’s this really charming guy, and we’re having a great time. And then I get pregnant and he’s Mr. Hyde-ing it.”
Spike cocked his head to one side, regarding her with a gaze both so intense and so kind that she could hardly believe it. “You’ll get through this, luv. You’re one of the strongest people I’ve ever known.”
Buffy smiled through teary eyes. “You ever wonder what would have happened if you’d stayed, Spike?”
“Nothing good,” he said quietly. “Was gettin’ pretty close to the brink, myself.” Spike fixed her with a hard gaze, the tenderness swallowed up by determination. “‘m not comin’ back to Sunnydale.”
“You already told me that,” Buffy reminded him. “Can—can I ask you a favor, Spike? I know it’s not fair to ask this of you, so don’t feel like you have to agree.”
Spike watched her suspiciously. “What’s that?”
“If something happens to me, I want you to promise me you’ll look after my child.”
Spike was flabbergasted. “Uh, Buffy, you do realize you’re askin’ a vampire to play godfather, right? Why not ask Red? Or Rupert, if you get right down to it.”
Buffy shook her head. “Willow and Xander aren’t ready to take care of a baby, either of them. And Giles wouldn’t know the first thing about it. Dawn’s too young—”
“And that leaves me,” Spike said quietly. There was a part of him that wanted to be angry at her for requiring yet another promise of him, when she had offered him nothing in return. The other part of him wanted to be angry that she could think he would do anything else.
Buffy glanced away. “I know it’s not fair to ask you, Spike. I do. But you’ve got good friends who would help, and you keep your promises. I would feel better about it, knowing you would be there.”
“What about Peaches?” Spike countered. “He’s got the cheerleader, an’ he’s had a baby. For a while, anyway. You know he’d jump at the chance.”
“If you say no, he would be my next choice,” she admitted. “You’re the one I asked to take care of Dawn, though, Spike. I trust you.”
“I’m a vampire, Buffy,” Spike reminded her softly. “‘m a monster. I have no business raising a child.” He wasn’t sure why it was so important to make sure she knew that. Their relationship was never going to be more than it was right at this moment.
She shook her head. “It’s just if something happens to me,” Buffy reminded him. “And you’re my monster.”
Spike wanted to argue with her, to tell her he was no one’s but his own. He wanted to protest that he’d spent the last three years trying to be free of her, and she was tying his heart to hers with one more responsibility.
He did nothing of the sort, because it was all true. He was a monster, and he was hers. But he had also learned to be his own.
Spike looked into the eyes of the Slayer and promised her unborn child, just as he’d promised Dawn. “Till the end of the world.”