Chapter Nine
Anne and Spike’s stunned eyes looked at the little dark haired, blue eyed boy. He regarded them both curiously, waiting for the answer. Spike blinked, and looked at Anne. She half shrugged, them nodded, indicating for him to go ahead and answer. The vampire took a deep breath, and turned his eyes back to the miniature of himself.
“Why would you ask that?” Spike asked him. The look Matt gave him made him feel like he was biggest dolt on the planet.
“I have your face.” Well, they couldn’t argue with that. Then he waited a beat. “Are you my daddy?” He repeated again.
“Yeah, I am.” Spike answered, simply. He wasn’t prepared when he found his arms suddenly filled with a squirming bundle of giggling child. He sat, paralyzed for a second, them gingerly wrapped his arms around the warm, tiny body, his eyes drifting closed.
“Mommy was right. You did come back.” He exclaimed, burying his face in his father’s cool neck. “I’m not ilgityment no more,” he cried happily. Spike’s eyes shot to Anne, and she grimaced.
“A little boy at school told him that,” she explained quietly, wiping away the tears that sprang to her eyes. Spike nodded, feeling, for the first time in five years, the need to kill somebody. Matt pulled away and smiled brightly at his father, and the blonde felt his undead heart constrict.
“You going to stay, Daddy?” If possible, even more emotion swelled in Spike that nearly choked him. He had to wait to make sure he wouldn’t break down before answering.
“Yeah, poppet. I’m going to stay.” This elicited another squeal from the child, and he hugged his father once more.
“Matt,” Anne started, waiting until he turned to look at her. “Why don’t you show your father your room. I’m sure he’d like to see it.”
“Okay, come on.” Matt tugged on Spike’s hand, urging him to get up. He stood, curling his fingers around the small hand and gave Anne a sad smile. He’d missed so much, and he found himself cursing himself yet again for ever leaving her.
“You want a beer?” she asked as he moved past her.
“God, yes.” He said back, the emotion on his face causing her eyes to tear up again.
“I’ll bring it back.” He nodded, and allowed the boy to pull him back to his room.
When Anne entered the room a few minutes later, she stopped in the door to watch the scene before her. Spike had shrugged off his duster and was sitting in the middle of the Scooby throw rug, listening to Matt explain the intricacies of Lincoln Logs.
“An’ you haf to put the pieces like this.” Matt told him, very carefully constructing the log house. Anne never knew where his patience came from, cause, God knew she didn’t have it. But, watching father and son, and the very intent way Spike was listening to him, as if he was whispering the secrets of the world, Anne figured it out. He was even more like Spike, or maybe it was William, than she had realized.
Spike glanced up at her, smiling. She moved into the room, and knelt down with them.
“Whatcha building there, Michelangelo?” She asked, handing Spike his beer. Matt looked up at his mother, his lopsided grin still in place.
“A fort.” Anne looked suitably impressed.
“A fort, huh? For what?”
“To keep out cowboys.” Anne snickered. At Spike’s confused look, she laughed even harder.
“Mark’s influence. He came over here wearing a shirt that said ‘My Heroes have always Killed Cowboys’, and Matt demanded to know what it meant. So, Mark told him. The abbreviated version of course.” The blonde pushed back the jealously that surged over the other man getting to be in his child’s life. Mark seemed decent enough, and at least he wasn’t Xander.
“You guys want to come out on the patio with me, while I cook the steaks?”
“Yeah.” Matt cried, tugging on Spike yet again. The vampire grinned at the excited child and followed him. Anne trailed behind them out to the kitchen, and through the french doors to the brick patio. It was illuminated by the mosquito torches and the outside light over the kitchen door. The warm night air smelled sweet with the potted plants she had arranged around the small surrounding wall. A wrought iron table and chairs sat in the middle of the patio, and a grill sat close to the wall. A large bowl with a salad in it sat on the table, aluminum foil covering it from any bugs that went exploring.
Matt scrambled into one of the chairs, pulling the foil off to sneak a cucumber out of the bowl. He smiled brightly at Anne’s raised eyebrow, unabashedly shoving the vegetable into his mouth.
“Sit down, daddy.” Spike didn’t know if he’d ever get used to hearing that, as his undead heart turned in his chest. He blinked back his tears once again, smiling at Anne as he moved to do just that. He too reached into the bowl and plucked out a tomato. Which he promptly choked on when Matt’s next question popped out.
“Why are you cold daddy? Are you sick?” Spike coughed, looking helplessly at Anne. She just arched a brow and went into the kitchen to get the meat. Successfully leaving him on his own, he turned back to the boy, and struggled with his answer. Before he could come up with a suitable one, Matt’s confused look changed into one of enlightenment. “Are you a vampire? Mommy said vampires are cold.” He smiled, pleased with his discovery.
“Your mommy told you about vampires?” Spike was a little stunned. He never expected that. Anne walked back out then, trying to hide her smile.
“Yeah, she dinnit want me to be fraid of the dark. She tol’ me they can’t come in without being vited, first. So, don’t be fraid.”
“Well, she’s right.” Spike slid a look over at the busily grilling Anne, pulling his cigarettes out and lighting one.
“But, if you’re a vampire, and my daddy, are vampires bad?” Matt looked at his father, eyes trusting. Anne turned then, curious as to how he’d answer. Spike took a large swallow of beer, and a drag of his cigarette before answering.
“Yes, most are. There is an exception here and there.” He finally said, smiling at his child. Matt seemed to accept that, and reached into the bowl for another cucumber.
“Uh hum.” He looked up at his mother, who was standing next to the table now, tapping her foot.
“Yes, Mommy?” Matt asked, innocently, looking at his mother with wide eyes. His innocent act might have worked, if it weren’t for the cucumber he was speaking around.
“Quit poking around in the salad. Go wash your hands, dinner’s almost ready.” She ordered, not turning back to the grill until he was out of salad range. She jumped a little, when she felt Spike’s hands settle on her shoulders.
“That was wrong, kitten.” He whispered, his soft voice in her ear, and his cool breath on her neck sending pleasant chills over her skin.
“Hey, welcome to parenthood,” she told him, giggling. “I forgot to mention he has this awesome memory. We had that conversation last year, after Halloween.” She said, leaning into him a little. Whenever she was in his company, her feelings seemed less scrambled, and more centered and sure. Gone was her intense nervousness of the morning, in its place was a sort of contentment, almost like this was what was meant to be.
“I’m going to get you back for that.” He promised, his teeth grazing her earlobe. She shivered in response, and felt the accompanying dampness in her panties.
“Spike, Matt is awake.” She reminded him AND herself. “Go sit down. The steaks are done.” She ordered, hearing the pounding feet of their son heading back through the kitchen. Reluctantly, he stepped back and turned in time to pluck the four year old up and twirl him around. Matt giggled helplessly in return, liking the way his stomach dipped while he was spinning.
“Again, Daddy.” He demanded, and Spike happily complied. Anne turned, holding the platter and watched, her heart flip flopping in her chest. This was what it could have been like from the start, she thought, cursing the twist of fate that took her from L.A. If she’d only stayed. . .no, no regrets. Things were as they should be now, and that was all that mattered.
“Alright, you two. Sit.” Obediently, they did, and she walked over to join them. Once they were settled, they began to eat, Matt regaling them with tales of what went on in San Rios Learning Academy for Pre-Schoolers.
~*~*~
After dinner, they moved inside, and were now sitting in the living room. Matt sat securely between his parents, constantly touching or looking at Spike, as if he was afraid he would disappear. When Anne announced that it was his bedtime, he protested.
“Listen to your mum, bit. I’ll see you tomorrow.” Spike told him, the look in his eye brooking no argument. With a hanging head, Matt climbed off the couch, then launched into his father’s arms. Tears sprang to the vampire’s eyes once more when he heard the tiny declaration.
“I love you, daddy.”
“I love you too.” He whispered back, dropping a kiss on the dark curls on top of his head. Anne had to brush her own hand over her eyes to stem the flow.
“I’ll be right back.” She told him, when Matt climbed down and started towards his room. Spike could only nod, not trusting his voice. He pulled out a cigarette and lit it while waiting for her to come back.
Fifteen minutes later, she walked back out into the living room to find him staring intently at the pictures on the entertainment center. They were all of Matt, from birth til current. Some were with her, others were with Mark, but the majority were just him.
“Hey, he’s all settled.” She said, coming to stand next to him. He was currently looking at one that had been taken in the hospital. Anne was sitting up in the bed, looking tired but happy, with the red faced baby in her arms. Mark had been camera happy that day, having taken several shots in the space of a few minutes. She had been annoyed at the time, but now, she was happy that she had them.
She watched Spike as he lifted a finger, and traced it over the picture.
“I missed so much,” he whispered, his voice thick and rough. She laid a hand on his shoulder, and rested her cheek against his arm.
“I’m sorry.”
“Why didn’t you stay in L.A.?” He asked, his tone slightly accusatory. She sighed, and moved away from him to sit back on the couch. She knew this question was coming, and she had kicked herself a thousand times for not doing just that. But at the time, she was so young, and so scared. She didn’t really know WHAT she was doing.
“Come here,” she said, patting the cushion next to her. She waited until he was seated next to her, his arm curved around her shoulder before she began.
“Xander found me.”
Los Angeles, 1998
“I’m coming,” Buffy yelled groggily, running an agitated hand through her duel colored hair. She knew it looked like shit, but the doctor had pretty much told her no dying of the hair, no medication unless cleared through him, no smoking (duh), and no drinking (again, duh.) And truth be told, she didn’t give a crap how she looked. Nobody was around to see her anyway, so what did it matter? Making sure she had a stake ready, just in case, she opened the door. Then stood and stared at the man standing outside.
“Hi, Buffy,” Xander said, his tired, apologetic face offering her a smile. Anger burst through her shock, and she glared at him.
“What are you doing here? How did you find me?” She shot out, looking down the hallway to see who else he brought with him. Finding that he was alone, she crossed her arms over her rounded belly and waited.
“Can I come in?” He asked, instead of answering her. With a roll of her eyes, she turned away and walked over to the couch, propping her swollen feet up on the coffee table. Xander came in, and turned and closed the door.
“What do you want, Xander?” She asked wearily, when all he did was stand there. She turned to look at him, and saw him staring at her stomach. Glaring once again, she grabbed a pillow and drew it across her. He shook himself and walked over to sit in one of the chairs, his dark eyes searching her face.
“I’m sorry, Buffy. For not telling you about the spell,” he said finally. Tears sprang to her eyes, and she wiped them angrily away. She had promised herself that she was done crying when the doctor told her that the baby was healthy, and human. Amniocentesis were wonderful for that sort of thing apparently.
“Doesn’t matter now,” she said, twisting the stake in her hand. Angel was gone, Spike was gone. Her mother kicked her out. She had nobody now.
“I just,” Xander started, shoving a hand through his hair. “I just didn’t think. . .”
“That’s right. You didn’t,” she cut him off, her snapping hazel eyes meeting his.
“You’re right. I didn’t. All I could think about was what he did to Ms. Calender. And Willow.”
“That was Dru.” She reminded him, gripping the stake.
“I know, but it was under his orders. I was against the spell all along. But, that’s no excuse. I’m sorry.” He sounded so sincere, that Buffy found herself relenting. Sighing heavily, she looked at him, the pain in her eyes nearly crippling.
“I’m not going to say it’s alright, Xander. Because it’s not. What you did. . .cost two people a lot.” She said, watching the confusion pass over his face.
“Two people?”
“Dru went into Acathla with Angel.” She said, her throat tightening once more. She huddled deeper into the black t-shirt she was wearing, Spike’s smell long gone, since she’d obviously had to wash it. But, it still comforted her to wear it.
“I don’t see how that’s a bad thing,” Xander replied. Anger snapped into her again.
“No, you wouldn’t.” He recoiled back, not knowing what he’d said wrong.
“Buffy, I’m not understanding here. Dru was one crazy bitch. What did it matter if she went to hell?”
“It mattered to Spike,” she whispered. Xander’s eyes widened, still struggling with confusion.
“Again with the ‘so’?” His callous tone grated her last nerve, and she stood to throw the pillow at him. She was too afraid to touch him. He raised his arm and deflected the projectile, surprise evident in his features.
“You know what? This is obviously way beyond your limited brain capacity. Why don’t you just go home?” She snapped, stalking into the kitchen. He followed her.
“I’m sorry if I don’t understand the big deal. She was evil. Spike’s evil. What do I care about their pain? They tried to KILL us, Buffy. Many times.” He reminded her.
“I KNOW that, Xander. Hello, I was there.”
“Then what’s the big deal? You should be glad that Spike’s suffering.” Buffy closed her eyes and prayed for patience, one hand coming to rest on her stomach. Xander followed the action, his eyes staring in disbelief. Pushing the insane thought away, he took a deep breath and started again.
“Look, I don’t know what to say. Okay? It’s hard for me to feel sorry for him. His whole goal in life was to kill you, and he almost did. If it wasn’t for that organ, who knows what might have happened.” Buffy just sighed, and turned away.
“What do you want, Xander? There’s more to this than an apology.”
“I wanted to come and take you home.” She snorted at that.
“Home? I am home,” she said. It was funny how she felt just that. This apartment, full of Spike’s stuff, was her home. Sunnydale seemed a million miles away now.
“No, Buffy. This is isn’t home. This is running away. Your mother is worried.” Guilt tripped through her, but she shoved it down.
“Well, she should have thought of that before she kicked me out,” Buffy snapped, turning to face him again.
“She was scared, and confused. You can’t hold that against her.”
“The hell I can’t. She thought I killed Kendra, Xander. How’s that for motherly loyalty?”
“No she didn’t. Not really, but think about how it looked. You were found over her body.” Xander tried to soothe, but he only managed pissing her off more.
“Yeah, I know.” She reminded him. “But that’s not the point, is it? She’s my mother. How could she think that of me?” Tears spilled from her eyes, and Xander took a step forward. Her hand shot up to tell him to back off.
“Go home, Xander,” she told him again, pushing past him to go back to the living room.
“Not without you,” he said firmly. “You’re still the Slayer, and the Hellmouth is still in Sunnydale.” He resorted to using her duty against her.
“I don’t give a fuck.” She almost giggled at the look that crossed his face.
“How can you say that?” She shook her head, truly amazed at how thick he could be sometimes.
“I have more important things to worry about now” was all she offered.
“What, like that baby?” She looked up at him, her eyes slitting dangerously. “You didn’t think I couldn’t tell. Jesus, Buff, you’re skin and bones. That little puff in the tummy area could only be one thing. My question is, it’s not Angel’s, who’s is it?” His dark eyes begging her to lie to him.
“None of your business,” she snapped.
“You fucked him, didn’t you?” Xander’s shock was thick, almost as thick as the disgust that replaced it. “How could you? And now you’re pregnant? God, does a guy have to be dead to get between your legs?” His head snapped around as the flat of her hand connected.
“You’re just pissed cause I wouldn’t give you a chance,” she spat. Fury burned in her eyes, rising up to meet his.
“Yeah, I was. Until two seconds ago.” He shot back, rubbing a hand over his cheek. She raised her chin defiantly, her hands clenching into fists.
“Leave. Now.”
“Buffy, I’m sorry. Look this doesn’t have to ruin your life. Just, terminate it and come home. Nobody needs to know. I’ll never tell.” He said, imploringly. She looked at him as if he had just told her that the moon was really made out of cheese.
“You don’t understand, do you? I want this baby.”
“What? How. . .why?” He couldn’t form a coherent thought, her words shocking him to his core.
“This is my only chance at having anything resembling a normal life. I’m taking it Xander. Calling and Hellmouth be damned. I’m sorry if that shatters your perfect little image of me, but I’m being selfish for once. I sent Angel to Hell to save the world. I’m not killing my child too.” Buffy asserted.
“Even though it’s father is a monster?”
“That just makes it more of a miracle. Neither of us were supposed to ever have children. It happened for a reason, and I’m not giving it up. So, go home Xander. Forget you know me. The new Slayer will be called, maybe you can get lucky with her.” She ran a hand through her hair, and glared at him. Xander raised himself up to his full height, hurt, anger and shock twisting his face. He stalked past her, throwing out one last thing before leaving.
“This isn’t over Buffy.” Then, he was gone. She stared at the door for a full minute before bursting into a flurry of activity. She didn’t know what he had planned, nor did she want to be here when he came back. Because she knew he would be back. Probably with her mother and Giles, and Willow for good measure. Picking up the phone on her way to the bedroom, she called information to get the number for the bus station, then called and got the time of the next bus leaving. She didn’t care where it was going, as long as it got her out of here.
Grabbing a duffle bag out of the closet, she started to throw the few clothes she had bought into it. She then went into he bathroom and cleared out her stuff in there. Walking back into the bedroom, she flipped the mattress off the bed and grabbed the money that Spike had left her, all the while dialing her doctor’s number. She left a message with his answering service that she had to leave town, and would call him when she got to where she was going so he could give her a referral. Then, she threw the phone on the box spring, and took one last look around. She made a mental note to call Willy as soon as she got to wherever she decided to stop and give him a new message for Spike. It had only been three months, and she was pretty sure he would still be outrunning his grief for awhile. If he ever went back to Sunnydale, that is.
Hefting the bag onto her shoulder, she grabbed her jacket off the hook on the door and left the apartment without a backwards glance.
San Rios, Arizona, 3 months later
Mark watched as the very tiny, very pregnant woman walked into the bar. She was a pretty little thing, way too young to be in there. When she came to a stop in front of him, her hazel eyes were full of pain.
“Are you okay?” He asked, concern etched on his face. Buffy looked up at into the kind, dark eyes of the stranger.
“My name is Anne Williams. And I need some help.”