11. The night before our follow up appointment
“What’s with Spike tonight?” Emily asked me as she tucked her stake in her waistband and pulled back her hair into a low ponytail. The breeze that whistled around the rows of tombs kept blowing her long strands across her eyes as we patrolled together. Cooler breezes in an otherwise humid, sticky day were one of the pluses of New Orleans cemeteries. “He’s never grumpy on patrol.”
Spike had been sulking all day, and while this didn’t even compare because Spike was never broody, he was reminding me too much of Angel. My nerves were already frayed because I was anxious about tomorrow’s phone appointment with Dr. Surrey, which was two weeks after our trip to Denver, and Spike was acting like a two-year-old. “I have no idea. That’s why I asked to tag along tonight. I couldn’t stand being in the house with him and his mood.” Now, he’d charged ahead of us, taking the scenic route to the vamp nest.
“Your house is really small,” the young Slayer said. “Nowhere to get away.”
“Not in a shotgun house,” I agreed. Normally, I loved how cozy my home with Spike was. “And slaying always gives us a way to burn off steam.”
Emily gave me side eye. “I’ll just hang back and let y’all have first dibs. Does that sound okay?” Her Cajun accent always made me smile. There was something so laid back and friendly about her voice. I’d seen her use it as a weapon during patrol, too – the same way I used to use puns and quip-age.
“That’d be very appreciated.” I needed it, too.
“And if say, we get there and there aren’t as many vamps as our little tip suggested, I’ll just scoot. I need to make some groceries anyway before tomorrow morning. Gotta get stuff for my mom’s birthday. She’s making forty-two this year.” Emily twirled her stake, a little jaunt in her step. She was twenty at most and still had an intact supportive family, which was amazing given the strain having a Slayer in the family caused.
“Your mom had you when she was young,” I observed. Her mom had her when she was twenty-one, twenty-two? That’s how old I was in Sunnydale. That seemed like eons ago.
“Yeah. She was way young, but a lot of girls were having babies right out of college, and my dad’s older. He’s fifty.” Her dad certainly didn’t look his age, and he was always jovial and welcoming. He owned a seafood restaurant on Tchoupitoulas with the best baked oysters. Better than Acme in the Quarter with just the right amount of cheese and spices. “And it was a good thing my mom had me early. She had a lot of miscarriages after me.” A momentary sadness passed over her face. “I always wanted a sibling.”
A wave of love for my sister washed over me. I missed Dawn and made a mental note to call her after the follow up with the doctor tomorrow. “Siblings can also be a pain in the butt. Always in need of rescue. You know, when said sibling decides to follow you to the cemetery to hide behind a tree because she wants to see a real vampire. When you just need to slay and get to bed because you have a test the next day. . .” I grinned and wove my own stake between my fingers.
Emily laughed. “I take it this is from personal experience.”
“Yep. But I wouldn’t trade her for anything.”
“Well, when I have kids, I’ll have at least two.” She tapped the tip of the stake against her lower lip thoughtfully.
Her words hit me sort of sideways. We lived in a world in which other Slayers could think about having families. Sometimes, it still didn’t seem real.
My eyes misted up before I could stop them or realize what feelings were behind the tears. Crap. Luckily, Emily didn’t notice because Spike came barreling around a large tomb, the damned prickly look still in his eyes. “What’re you two doing? Hurry it up!”
“What? Why?” Emily asked, springing forward with me not far behind.
“You’re the one who left us,” I murmured under my breath, knowing full well he could hear me but Emily couldn’t.
Spike came up short and was about to retort, but a vampire sprang through the air at him, tackling him to the ground. “Bloody hell!” The vampire had been a burly man in life and wore a black suit and likely his best Sunday hat. Spike twisted around underneath the other vampire and tried to shove him off. “This is why,” Spike hissed through gritted teeth as he strained to move his attacker.
I raced past Emily, grabbed the vamp by the shoulder and flung him away from Spike and back into. . . the waiting arms of his posse of at least twelve other growling vampires, their bumpies prominent and eyes glowing yellow. “Great. Thirteen vamps in a graveyard in New Orleans. Are we lucky or what?” I declared as Emily helped Spike back to his feet.
“Well, you were looking for a fight,” Emily joked. “You got one.”
“We got one,” Spike said appearing at my elbow and shifting into his own vampire face. I resisted the urge to growl at him in frustration.
The vampires descended upon us as a group, and soon, Emily, Spike, and I were consumed by flying fists, fangs, and preternatural energy swirling around us. I slid into the fight with ease and was grateful for the feeling of strength pouring through my muscles. The vampires received the brunt of my anger at Spike’s sulking and the whole situation, and I could tell from the extra energy behind his blows that Spike was doing the same around me. Dust flew through the air as vampires began to lose their hearts, and somehow as we got closer to the end of the skirmish, I felt my heart begin to break a little, too.
As Emily kicked and flipped and toyed with her remaining vampire, I slayed the last of mine and whirled, flinging my stake at the large vampire who’d hung back and was targeting Spike again. The wood landed home in the vampire’s back right where his heart was located, and I felt very satisfied when the large body crumbled into dust.
Spike caught my still moving stake in one hand and glared at me. “Watch it.”
I returned the glower from where I was leaning with my hands on my thighs, trying to catch my breath. Fury reanimated my limbs, and I stalked toward him, stopping a few feet away, my fists in balls. I ignored the throbbing in my shoulder where I’d been slammed against the concrete. “What the hell, Spike?”
“What?” he slung out in irritation. “You could have staked me!”
“No, I wouldn’t have, and you know it.” I trusted him to take care of himself in a fight. “I repeat. What the hell?!”
“What are you going on about?” Spike strode away from me and helped a fallen Emily to her feet.
Emily dusted off her hands and retrieved her stake, watching us uncertainly. I didn’t care at this point. I couldn’t take it anymore.
“You know what the hell I’m ‘going on about’!” I shouted.
“Not in front of the lady,” he reprimanded me with an air of indifference.
Tears filled my eyes again. “Emily, we’re going to need. . .”
Emily’s eyes were full of sympathy, and she edged toward the entrance to the cemetery. “I’m just going to go run that errand I was telling you about,” she said walking backward a little.
I nodded, the damned ball of emotion lodged in my throat. A tear fell over my cheek.
The other Slayer turned and left me and Spike alone among the tombs. The high walls were making me feel trapped, but they also meant that neither of us could rabbit away.
“Fuck you, Spike,” I said quietly when I could manage.
“Well, love you, too, pet.” He started to follow the path Emily took.
Tears poured hot over my cheeks and down my neck. Stupid tears. I was angry with myself for crying. “Wait,” I called as he was almost out of view.
He sighed, still with that edge in his voice. “What is it?”
“I shouldn’t have said what I did. I just. . . I just don’t understand what’s going on with you today.” Give me something to go on. Please. Trying not to sound too desperate, I hardened my voice just slightly. “You’ve been weir. . . not yourself all day.”
“You want to know what’s going on?” An unidentifiable emotion besides anger infiltrated his tone.
I kept my response simple. “Yes.”
Spike was quiet for a moment as if he had expected more fighting words. He stared at the Blanchard tomb as if he were really studying the ornate design on the columns. “Tomorrow, we’re going to talk with that doctor of yours, and he’s going to recommend using someone else’s sperm or some such rot.” He still wasn’t looking at me, but it was something.
“And what about that bothers you?” I asked, not softening because I was afraid he’d buck up against me again.
He briefly glanced at me then, and the light from the full moon gave me a glimpse of the fear in his eyes. “You know, I spent a lot of years. . . decades with Angelus, Darla, and Dru.” I didn’t respond and waited for him to continue. “They were my family, you know?”
“I know,” I said, infusing my words with new gentleness. I wanted to cross the gulf between us but not yet.
His head in profile, he closed his eyes and pushed one hand into his jeans pocket. “I’ve been doing a lot of thinking about them since we decided to start a family.”
“Oh.”
He turned his face farther away. “And I’m terrified, pet.”
The lump in my throat migrated to my heart where I ached for him. “Of what?”
He was silent for several seconds, and I could tell he was trying to sort out how to say the next words. “A lot of things. But mostly that using someone else’s DNA, no matter how well we pick it from whatever database they have, will get us into something we aren’t expecting. And what we have. . . you and me? It’s the best family I’ve ever had. I don’t want to mess that up. Not again.”
“First of all, if we’re going with the analogy that Darla and Angelus were your adoptive parents, we’re already ahead of the game for a lot of reasons,” I gently joked. He laughed a little then. I approached him and tugged his stubborn hand out of his pocket, threading my fingers with his. “For one, we’re not psychopaths, and whatever baby we have. . . if we even have one. . . will be human.”
“Know lots of humans that are pretty twisted. Whether it be through nature, nurture, or a mix,” he countered, but he was still holding my hand, which was a good sign.
“Valid point.” I thought for a moment. “But honestly, how many psychopaths do you know that go to the sperm bank to donate sperm for use at a fertility clinic? And we both had good moms, so if we’re looking at nurture, we know what to do.”
“That’s true.” Spike’s eyes searched for mine. “You’re nervous, too, right, love?”
“So nervous.” I didn’t need to enumerate why. He knew my fears. “I honestly don’t know how I feel about using a sperm donor either. All I know is that I love you. And you’re right. You are my family no matter what. If we haven’t completely messed it up already given what we’ve done to each other, we’ll be just fine.” We’d been good together for so long that I rarely thought about the times we weren’t, but sometimes, the reminder of how far we’d come provided a nice and necessary contrast. It made me appreciate what we had now even more.
He stroked my cheek and kissed the remaining tears away. “I’m sorry, and I love you, too. Walk with me?”
“Uh huh.” I returned his affection with a kiss of my own but by bringing my lips to his. His touch was comforting. Things weren’t completely resolved but at least he was semi-back to himself.
Hand in hand, we took a long stroll through the cemetery, relishing the cool air and bright light from the moon above. As we did, an idea formed in my mind, and I made a mental note to text Giles later.
* * *
12. The night Crystal gave me advice
I sighed, dropped my phone on the coffee shop counter, and set my chin heavily in my palms.
“What’s wrong, chica?” Crystal asked as she wiped down the espresso machine.
The Wednesday evening traffic in the coffee shop had trickled down, and her husband had picked up Leah an hour ago. The little girl had been a wonderful distraction, talking about how she played with her friend Alex at the park and how she got to ride a real horse – not a pony, which was an important distinction in her mind – with her aunt last weekend.
Now, I was faced with the message on my phone and figuring out what to do about it.
“Remember how I told you Spike and I went to that clinic in Denver?” I tilted my head to glance back at her, studiously avoiding the text I’d just received from Giles.
“Uh huh. Last I heard, you had a phone call with the doc and got your test results back, and they recommended IVF.” Crystal proceeded to wipe down the space around the machine. She’d just come back from maternity leave and knew only a little about the fertility evaluation from my texts with her in discussing shop hours and scheduling and planning visits with Leah. “Didn’t you say your numbers were all good?”
“Yeah. Fairly good overall. That’s what they told me and it sounds right from what I’ve read,” I said glumly. I had my numbers and all the acronyms memorized: AMH 1.8, AFC 15, estradiol 34, FSH 11.8, and LH 7.0. The FSH was slightly high, but the doctor said he wasn’t too worried about it. I couldn’t keep straight what they all meant and kept having to look them up when I researched online. “And Spike’s were all bad.” Crystal didn’t know Spike’s sperm were basically nil because he was a vampire.
“Right.” She began rinsing the metal cups we used for steaming milk with soap and water. “But you have a plan now? Why the gloom?”
I poked at a tiny trail of sugar on the counter, sweeping the grains into a tiny pile of sweetness. “Spike’s been distant since the phone call with the doctor. And that was a few weeks ago.” He hadn’t been irritable and bad-mood-ish, but he had been quieter. . . uncharacteristically distant despite our blow-up-and-make-up in the cemetery. A couple of nights he’d even stayed at work later than normal. I’d woken up the next morning to him coming in, smelling more strongly of cigarette smoke than usual. I wasn’t sure what to say, so I’d cried in the shower after he passed out in exhaustion on our bed without even touching me.
“Well, can they do anything for his sperm?” Crystal edged past me and into the seating area, starting to straighten the disorderly stack of newspapers on one table.
I watched her even out the edges and wished that this whole process was as simple as lining up sections of the newspaper. “No. Nothing they can do. They suggested donor sperm. He hasn’t talked with me about it since. I know he’s scared; he said as much.”
“Scared of what?” Crystal lifted an eyebrow at me as she tossed the papers into the recycling bin against the wall.
“That we’d end up in over our heads with some random guy’s sperm.” Realizing I should be helping my co-worker, I bent over and found a couple of dry washcloths. Running them under the stream of water in the sink, I squeezed out the excess and passed one to Crystal.
“Thanks.” Crystal began wiping down the tables and chairs. “Don’t they let you pick the sperm donor?”
I ran the damp cloth over the wood in front of me, avoiding the little pile of sugar. “Yeah but still. It’s almost like adopting sperm. And Spike. . . he was adopted at a later age, and while his biological mom was wonderful before she died, his adoptive parents weren’t so great to him. His whole adoptive family was pretty dysfunctional.” Understatement of the century.
Crystal was silent for several seconds as she scrubbed a particularly stubborn stain off one of the tables. Then, she says, “I wonder if it’s not just the adoption piece that bothers him.”
“What do you mean?”
“Hmm. Is it the financial cost?”
“No. I have good health insurance from my other job. It covers the clinic’s services and the lab, which are apparently two different entities.” Giles paid for excellent health insurance for me and even for Spike who now has forged papers that make him a seemingly legit American citizen. “Money isn’t a factor.” For once in my life.
Finished with my first task, I tossed my dirty bit of cotton into the sink and scooped up the glass cleaner and a roll of paper towels to tackled the fingerprint-smudged pastry case, joining Crystal in the main area.
“Does he want a family with you?” Crystal tossed her washcloth at the sink and missed.
I squirted the blue liquid over the clear surface, watching the freed drops trail rapidly over the sloping curve with the pull of gravity. “I think so.” Spike would do anything for me. I knew this. He knew this. Would he resent me for it? I bit my lip. I didn’t want this to come between us. I’m suddenly struck by a powerful urge to abandon my post at the coffee shop and run to the Spotted Cat to hug him tight and make sure he was still mine.
Crystal’s voice drew me back to reality. “Then, I wonder if. . . and don’t take this the wrong way because I don’t know Spike very well.”
“I won’t.” My arm automatically moved, the paper towel and fluid combination squeaking over the glass.
“I wonder if it bothers him that his sperm wouldn’t be used to make your child. . . that he’d always be separate somehow. That you’d have a different connection than he would. . . a deeper one.” She stooped with a small grunt of pain and snagged the wayward cloth, slapping it in the sink next to mine. She rounded back my direction and tore off a paper towel to help me.
“You okay?”
“Yeah. Scar from the C-section still stings sometimes.”
She and I made short, noisy work of erasing the fingerprints.
When we finished, she asked, “So? What do you think of what I just said?”
My mind went back to the text I was trying not to think about. Was Crystal right? “I actually have thought about that.” I was afraid to say the next part out loud. Then again, I’d felt so alone with it. I felt so alone a lot lately. I closed my eyes.
Crystal’s arms went around my shoulders, and she gave me a tight hug. This elicited the tears I’d been holding onto, afraid that Spike might hear if I cried too much.
She drew back and rubbed my upper arm. “It’s okay, hun. Let it all out. Dealing with infertility is a really lonely place to be, especially for the woman.” She tore off a paper towel and handed it to me. “Not exactly a tissue, but it’s the best I can do.”
I laughed a little through the tears and then blotted my eyes, mindful of my mascara. “How do you know so much about this?”
Crystal shrugged. “My sister’s been through it. Tried for so many years. Her husband wasn’t exactly open to any fertility treatments or adoption. It was really hard on her when I got pregnant so easily. And twice. I know how much it hurt her. She didn’t talk about it with me until I made her. I wanted her to come to me, you know? We’ve always been close, but the child bearing thing came between us. I hated it.”
I sniffed. “What happened?”
Crystal gathered up the cleaning supplies. “She and her husband got a divorce. She’s remarried now; they’re working on adopting.”
“Wow. That’s good. Good for her. And you.” It was a good situation for Crystal’s sister. Right? My chest ached. I definitely didn’t want to lose Spike over this whole mess. I couldn’t. He was so far in my heart that I couldn’t imagine life without him. In that moment, I honestly didn’t know if my heart would recover if he broke it. . . if I broke us with this persistence about having a child. I swallowed. I had to run by this next bit of insanity by someone. Why not Crystal? “Can I ask you something?”
The younger woman smiled. “Anything.”
“Spike has living biological relatives out there even though he was adopted. He’s never met them. I-I found someone here in the States.” Technically, Giles found said male relative. “And he’s young. . . our age.” Well, he’s my age, and more importantly, he’s alive – not a vampire.
Crystal’s eyes were filled with confusion. “What are you asking, Buffy?”
I squinted my eyes and made a face, feeling a bit like Xander probably did when he confessed to something he knew was wrong but was hoping the other person wouldn’t think he was crazy. “I was considering asking him to be a sperm donor.” At my co-worker’s wide-eyed reaction, I quickly added, “With Spike’s permission, of course.”
Crystal studied me for a long moment, and I waited for her judgment and condemnation. Instead, she put one hand on her hip and said, “Girl, that is almost the craziest thing I’ve ever heard, and we live in the Crescent City so that’s saying something. But you know what? People do a lot of crazy stuff out there, and if it gets you what you want, go for it. My only bit of advice is that if you love that man of yours and want to keep him around, let him in the loop and not just on what you found.” I looked at her questioningly, and she added, “Tell him how you feel, too. All of it. Even if it’s scary.”
I nodded. “Right.” She was right. “And thank you. Mind if I. . .?” I gestured at the door. I had to talk with Spike and now before I lost my nerve. . . and before I lost him.
She smiled. “You’re welcome. Go ahead. Slow night anyway.”
* * *
13. The night I confessed to your father. . . and he confessed to me
I paced up and down the sidewalk adjacent to the Spotted Cat’s open front windows for half an hour at least, trying to work my nerve up to go inside and ask Spike to take a break, so I could share everything I’d just told Crystal. In stark contrast to CC’s Coffee House, the bar was just ramping up. Members of the local band were tuning up their instruments and calibrating their speakers and equipment, and groups and couples of every age and walk of life were meandering their way inside.
Just when I was about to throw in the towel, I felt the familiar tingle I always felt in Spike’s presence. The tickle always started at the back of my neck and swept over my arms and mid-section to land in a place that usually brought me such pleasure. Tonight, I hugged my arms to my chest and held my breath, stopping in my tracks.
“Pet? What are you doing here?” His voice was soft and gentle, the tone tinged with an intimacy that had recently been missing. The desire to throw myself into his arms made my breath catch in my throat.
I didn’t turn around. I couldn’t. Not yet. “I came to see you.”
“I thought you were working, and you know the manager doesn’t like me to take a break this early in my shift.” The edge still wasn’t there. Thank goodness, or I’d have been off and running.
“I got off early,” I said almost inaudibly, fingers digging into my arms.
He drew me back against him then. “What’s wrong?” When I stayed rigid, he stroked my tight hands and repeated, “Hey there, love. What’s wrong?”
I burst into tears at his tenderness. His kindness was almost unbearable, and I almost didn’t want to tell him anything if he’d just go back to treating me this way for good.
He moved me around to face him, and I was forced to look into his clear blue eyes, which were bright with concern. He briefly searched my eyes and then broke away. A small sob escaped my lips. “Hold on.” He stroked my cheek with his thumb, brushing the tears away. “I’m going to tell the boss that I need the night. Family emergency.” Then, he re-entered his place of work.
The way he said “family” made me cry harder as he walked away, but I was also suddenly acutely aware that people were staring. I swiped at my eyes and turned away from the more obvious gawkers, holding my breath to prevent the emotions from making my whole body shake.
Spike was back more quickly than I expected, and he scooped my hand into his, lacing his fingers tightly with mine. “C’mon. Car’s only a block away.”
He started leading me away, and I felt an unusual fear dart through my stomach. What if he went back to being distant as soon as we got out of public view? What if he got angry with me for interrupting his work? God. So much for the resolve that Crystal engendered in me. I felt like I was twenty-one again when the scariest thing of all for me was sharing my feelings and being truly intimate with someone I cared about. It was honestly scarier than any monster that went bump in the night.
As soon as we rounded the corner and were away from all the onlookers, Spike stopped and pulled me close to him so that my face was buried in his chest. I swear, I thought my heart might explode.
He stroked my hair. “I’m such a berk.” Then, he whispered, “Buffy. Do you still love me?” The quiet fear in his question cracked my heart open for a different reason all together.
I wrapped both arms around his mid-section and held him so tightly that he grunted a little. I almost asked him if he was crazy, but I couldn’t do that, so I settled on reassuring him. “Of course, I love you. I’m not going to suddenly stop loving you. Once you’re in my heart, you’re in.”
Now, he was crying. He wasn’t sobbing like I had been earlier, but I felt his tear on my scalp when he laid his cheek on the top of my head. “Thank god. I love you, too. And I know I’ve been distant these past weeks, and I know that’s hurt you. Part of me wanted to hurt you. I’ve been right pissed that I’m in this position. But after thinking about it, my anger’s not at you, and I’m not really angry. . . . I-I needed to get my head straight.”
In that moment, I realized that Spike had likely been feeling as lonely as me. “I suppose you owed me one or five. . . or twenty.” I would never forget how much I’d hurt him before.
“No, pet, you didn’t deserve it.” He stepped out of our embrace and took my hand again. “Talk more in the car?”
Facing our car, I bent our arms up and kissed the back of his hand. “Yes.” My determination was rising again.
Once we were seated inside (him in the driver’s seat and me in the passenger’s), both of us facing forward, Spike spoke. “I want to start. If that’s okay, love?”
Hands folded in my lap, I noticed that the ashtray was full of cigarette butts. He must have been emptying it before I got in the car and smoking with the windows rolled down because the car didn’t reek of smoke. “Of course.” The twisted bit of pain was tight in my chest again.
“Haven’t exactly been together with you of late. I mean, I know we said we would be. In it. Together.” He sighed. “This whole thing is not what I expected. Not at all. And it’s a lot.”
He meant the doctors, the possible treatments. “You think it’s what I expected?” The question popped out before I could stop myself. I bit my cheek before I could burst out with more. I blinked away the sheen of tears and stared hard at the growing condensation of humidity on the windshield, trying to hold onto the reality of the physical as my emotional buoy.
Spike reacted, “No! I don’t think you did, and that’s just it, pet, we should have thought it out better ahead of time. So it wouldn’t come down to this.”
What was he trying to say? “What? Down to what, Spike?” My words came out snippier than I intended.
His answer was firm. “To us not talking. To us being at odds with each other. This is a familiar path we’re treading, pet, and I don’t. . . I can’t go down it again with you.”
Fuck this. The tears welled and spilled over before I could stop them. The loneliness and raw hurt swelled in my chest. “Oh, you can’t go down it? Well, good for you because you don’t have to.”
I reached for the door handle, intent on leaving him to his non-path-walking self, but his hand jumped across the center console to grip my forearm, and just as I tried to shake him off, he let go. “Buffy, love. Wait.” His voice broke on the last word, and I settled back down in the seat.
I was silent, refusing to look at him, in that moment feeling like I could never tell him how I felt again even though I knew it was irrational.
He drew a deep breath and said, “That’s not how I meant it.” I was too anxious to ask what he meant, but he answered my unspoken question anyway. “I don’t want to go anywhere without you.”
“Me either,” I whispered, focusing on the roundness of the radio dials.
“And I don’t know how I feel about this IVF thing. It’s risky and the odds are low that it would even work. And if it doesn’t work the first time, where’s the line? Do we try again? What will happen to you. . . to us if it doesn’t work?” There was that question again – the one he’d asked on the plane, and we’d never answered.
“I don’t know,” I said. “I don’t know how I’ll feel if it doesn’t work. We can’t afford more than once anyway, and,” I realized that despite my motion to leave the car, I wasn’t going anywhere, that I was on the path with Spike no matter what. I reaffirmed what I’d said after our fight in the cemetery, “I’m committed to you. I love you.” I still hadn’t heard the answer to my next question. He said he didn’t know, but I suspected that he did know and needed the opening to answer. “How do you feel about IVF?”
His immediate response told me that I was right. “I don’t like the idea of it, pet. You’ve all but said you want to go for it, but I don’t like the idea of you pumping yourself full of drugs and hormones to produce a bunch of eggs. You’re not a bloody chicken.” He’d done his research. “And as much as I’ve been smoking lately, I want to protect you. And there’s some evidence that those drugs can be linked to cancer. I’d like to keep you around as long as possible.”
He was worried about my health the way I worried about losing him to a stray spark or a ray of sunshine. “Same goes for you, you know.” My hand found the top of his, and he flipped his palm up to meet mine.
“I know.” Running his thumb over my smaller one, he continued in a much lower tone, “And the donor sperm. I’ve put a lot of thought into that aspect of it all, and what bothers me. . . it’s more than what I said about Angelus, Darla, and Dru.”
“What is it?”
“It’s selfish, I bloody well know it is, but I want the baby to be connected to me, too.” Crystal was right! “And that spell we tried. I got it in my head, pet, that it might work. That we might have a child of our own related to you and me. I-I never thought that I’d have that. I thought that dream died the night I became a vampire.” I saw him turn his head to gaze out the window and felt him grasp my hand tighter.
As I freed my hand from his, he winced. Before he could think I was leaving again, I climbed into his lap, Slayer atop vampire, and laid my head on his shoulder. “I’m so sorry.” Wedging my arms between his ribcage and the smooth leather of the car seat, I held him. “I’m so sorry you’ve been alone with all these feelings.”
He stroked my back, and my body relaxed into his. “You’ve been alone, too, eh, love? I never meant to make you feel alone.” He was damned good at reading me.
I trembled at his validation of my experience. “Yeah. I’ve been feeling pretty lonely, too.”
“Well, I’m here. And Buffy?”
Now, I just wanted to fall asleep in his arms, in the front seat of our car. If only, he’d tilt the seat back. “Mmm?”
“I have living relatives,” he stated, leaning his head back on the headrest.
Well, that woke me up! “You do?” Playing dumb was not a good Buffy move. I’ve never been remotely good at bluffing.
“And it sounds like you know it, too.” There was good humor in his words.
I shrugged. “I asked Giles.”
“Rupert?” Spike sounded surprised.
“Watcher’s Council had a lot of records that weren’t blown up, and it’s easy enough to track people nowadays. I think some scholar or other was interested in your family. Maybe because you’re pretty unique for a vampire.”
“It’s because I’m with you.” Spike drew the same conclusion I had though I didn’t think it was as simple as he made it sound. “In any case, I kept track of my family over the past decades. Ever since Angelus split off from us.”
“Why?”
“Wasn’t sure he wouldn’t go after my family the way he did his own. My immediate family died, but my mum and dad had several siblings, and I had many cousins. Haven’t contacted them before now, but I’ve kept tabs on them for a long time. Not sure exactly why. They’re my blood. . . my kin, I guess.” Spike’s hand roved over my hip. “I have a distant cousin, related to my mum’s favorite brother. He lives in Norfolk, Virginia. Teaches English at a university there. He’s about the age I was when I was sired.”
I pushed up on his chest. It was my turn to search his eyes. “Why are you telling me this?”
The corner of his mouth lifted. “Figured it wouldn’t hurt to ask him for a sample. I mean, if you’re okay with that.”
Somehow, we’d ended up on the same page, and though I wasn’t sure how we got there, I was relieved that we’d talked things out and that I had my Spike back. I responded to his revelation by kissing him thoroughly.
* * *
14. The night we flew into Norfolk
“I’m not driving the hamster mobile.” Spike set his jaw and crossed his arms, letting the roller bag he was dragging fall back into an upright position in the middle of the rental car lot.
I was too tired to argue. Our plane had arrived late to Norfolk after flights were delayed for several hours at the Baltimore airport due to lightning and heavy storm coverage. We had limited time to get to the hotel before sunrise now. Though if the dark clouds stayed in place, we wouldn’t have to worry about the sun.
Hanging out in the airport tested my nerves but really got to Spike who was already anxious about the trip to begin with. We were meeting his cousin the next evening, and he’d been more irritable as we got closer and the meeting became more of a reality. I thought the old lady who ran over his foot with her extremely heavy suitcase and then proceeded to yell at him while he was trying to sleep in an uncomfortable airport chair was the last straw. Apparently, I was wrong.
“I’ll drive the hamster mobile,” I offered, tugging my long hair into a bun. “The green color’s not so bad. It matches my eyes. And it was the only one with the darkest window tint that they had left. Plus, I think the Kia Soul is kinda cute.”
Spike snorted. “You would. And your eyes are a much nicer color than that.” He gestured at the car condescendingly.
“Says the guy who drives a Honda Civic. And thank you.” I tilted my head and batted my eyes at him.
“Hey, our Civic is well-constructed. Durable.” Never thought I’d hear Spike utter those words.
“And what we could afford.” I yawned, my jaw stretching wide. “So tired. Can we get going?”
He nodded at my hand. “You have the keys, love.”
“Oh, yeah.” I stared at the fob. Which button unlocked the car? I very rarely drove at home.
Spike peered over my shoulder as I studied the symbols and pressed the button to unlock the car. The doors and trunk unlatched, and Spike swung up the trunk door before piling my bag and then his inside.
“How did you know. . . ?”
“Figured they must be connected.” He slammed the trunk closed.
“Oh. That was majorly unclear.”
Spike smirked and rolled his eyes at me. At least, my lack of car knowledge entertained him.
As soon as we got inside the car and shut the doors, I fastened my seatbelt and then lifted both eyebrows at Spike. “Don’t want to lose you to a car accident. And if we have a kid, might as well get used to it.”
Sighing, he kissed my shoulder. “Fine.” He clicked the strap into place across his lap.
Then, the bottom fell out of the sky. Rain pummeled the windows and top of the car, sounding like someone was hurtling a whole dump truck full of marbles on top of us.
“Guess we have good timing,” I noted as I bent to one side and tried to figure out where to insert the key in the dark. Finding my target, I started the car. Then, I put the car in drive. Each step was exhausting, and I was sagging a bit. The hotel bed was calling my name.
“Um, love.”
“Yeah?” I blinked wearily at Spike.
“You need lights and windshield wipers.”
“I knew that,” I said trying to sound chipper. Fumbling around the levers and buttons, I managed to turn on the windshield wipers, which began rapidly swiping rain from the glass in front of us. Then, I turned some levers until bright lights swept out, barely making a dent in the darkness, but hey, it was something. I grinned triumphantly at Spike.
“Nice, pet,” he said with sarcasm.
“You know it is,” I returned.
Focusing on the path before us, I followed the row of barely visible car bumpers, straining to see where to go and avoid hitting anything. It would suck to wreck into one of the vehicles. Who knew what the rental company would charge me for wrecking a SUV or fancy sports car? When we got to the end of the path, I leaned forward and strained to see to the left and right.
I made a face. “Which way?”
“It’s not very well marked.” Spike emulated me in trying to sort out our dilemma.
I slumped back in the seat to help him see around me. “No arrows, no signs, no nothing.”
“Try left. There’re red and green lights that direction. Might be an exit.”
“Score one for enhanced vampire vision. Thanks!” I leaned over for a kiss, which he gladly gave me.
As we drove in the direction Spike indicated, I glanced in the rearview mirror. I was so focused on going forward that I forgot to check behind me. It was probably okay for the rental car lot – not so much for the highway. “Hey. I can’t see behind me. The back windshield is too straight.”
“It has its own wiper,” Spike explained, now sounding impatient. He was probably wishing he was driving at this point.
“Oh.” I stared down at the levers and buttons again. Well, crap.
“Buffy, love! Stop before you look down!” Spike growled.
Oops. I slammed the brakes on. Then, Spike reached over and fiddled with the gadgets around the steering wheel. The tiny wiper in the back sprang to life, and viola, the rain was cleared away. When he slid back into his seat and made a big show of putting his seatbelt on again, I drove on without a word, now feeling more exasperated and tired.
Spike was right. The exit to the rental car lot rose up before us, the red and green lights – blurry from the precipitation – signaling open and closed exit lanes. Well, technically, there was one green light and one open exit lane. Although there were booths by each of the exits, a hunched form hovered by one of the green lit lanes, his body covered in a very ineffective-looking poncho, a clipboard in his hand.
I suddenly remembered something – something very important.
“You’re going to kill me,” I prefaced as I slowed down before rolling up to the poor drenched guy.
Spike responded to this by modifying his level of grumpiness. “What now, pet?”
“I put the paperwork for the car in the front pocket of my suitcase with my cell for safekeeping,” I said with an apology in my voice.
Spike rolled his eyes again. “Of course, you did.”
The seatbelt flew back into its resting place, Spike climbed over the middle console into the backseat. He made small noises of frustration as he reached over into the back and fumbled around with the suitcases. Mine was under his. I heard a zipper and paper being pulled out of something. Then, Spike turned and dumped the paper and my phone in my lap before clambering back into the front seat.
“Thanks,” I said sheepishly.
Spike gave me an eyebrow lift and didn’t put his seatbelt back on. I didn’t say anything and drove up to poncho man, only I didn’t do very well and was too far away from him. The poor drenched guy remained rooted in place. Setting my phone in the cup holder, I unlatched my safety belt, held onto the paper and rolled down the window. Goose bumps flew over my skin as cold rain immediately poured through the new opening. I held out the paper to him, but the man didn’t move. Instead, he held out his hand from far away. Annoyed at Spike and at poncho guy, I emitted a frustrated sigh and leaned out the window, stretching toward him.
Without warning, poncho guy darted forward and grabbed my arm, dragging me roughly out of the rental car and into the rain. Adrenaline flowed through me as panic set in, and then, I knew.
Poncho guy was a vampire, I was now drenched and freezing, and I didn’t have a stake. Damn it.
To confirm my suspicion, poncho vampire growled, and his eyes glowed yellow as he backhanded me. I fell against the car with a grunt, and I heard him mutter, “Slayer,” as he continued to hit me. I braced my body on the metal behind me and tried to bring my legs up to kick him off, but he had me pinned to the slippery surface and hard.
“Hey!” Spike shouted as he leapt over the front of the car and launched himself at poncho vampire, tackling him off me.
They tumbled to the concrete as I bounced to my feet, and then, in the bright car headlights, I saw the rest of the vampires appear, one out of each of the exit booths. Oh boy. I was awake now.
I heard Spike punching the vampire behind me and glanced quickly around for anything to use as a weapon or stake. Through driving rain, I spied a pile of broken wood near the metal fence surrounding the lot. Not very smart of the vamps. I dove for the potential weapons, and the vampires followed.
Fingers fumbling through the wood, I adopted a sharp-looking piece as my new Mr. Pointy and snagged a second equally nice-looking scrap to toss to Spike, I pivoted and launched myself at my fanged pursuers. Spike was holding his own with two vampires, and I shouted his name. He turned briefly the moment he had space and time and caught the wood I threw at him before staking one of the vampires.
With both of us now armed, we made short work of our foes until finally only poncho vamp was left. He’d hung back after the initial scuffle with me and Spike, and now he was a fair distance away. He stared at us, and as I flung my makeshift stake at his heart, he dropped into a swift roll, effectively dodging the wood. Then, he was off and running into the night. I considered going after him and almost darted away.
“Buffy, no, love,” Spike said, coughing a little, his voice barely rising over the sound of the rain.
I glanced back and then recognized the sharp pain in my leg. Glancing down, I saw dark liquid slowly covering the front of my jeans. “Oh.” At least the blood wasn’t gushing.
Spike caught me in his arms as my leg gave out, and he helped me to the passenger seat. With gentle fingers, he examined the wound in the low interior light, ignoring that rain was continuing to come down hard around him. “Didn’t get a main artery. But better not chance it.” Opening the door to the backseat, he rummaged in the back again and found our first aid kit.
As he tended to my wound, my heart rate slowed down. I already felt better with his ministrations and watched him tend to my injury with efficiency. When he finished, he caught me studying him and smiled before kissing me long and deep.
Suddenly, I felt anxious with him standing vulnerable in the rain. Who knew what other vampires might be out there about to descend on us. “Let’s go. Get in.”
He caught my tension and didn’t question my words. After making sure I was safely inside with the door shut, he strode up to the exit gate, and with effort, forced the metal arm up. Then, he joined me, slamming the driver’s side door. We were temporarily shielded from nature’s downpour. I locked the doors. Not that that would help us if we were overrun by an army of vampires. Without another word, he put on his seatbelt and began driving. As he drove, I pulled up the directions to the hotel on my phone and slid my hand into the open palm that he’d lightly extended over my bandaged thigh.
15. The night we met your father’s cousin for Indian food
Spike and I were wedged into one side of the high-backed booths at Rajput Indian Cuisine, the place his cousin chose as a meeting place after his night class at Old Dominion University. It made sense; I’d pick a public place to meet people I’d never met, too. The location and time were also convenient for Spike.
Placing a steady hand on Spike’s thigh, which was bouncing up and down from his anxiety about coming face-to-face with his long-lost family member and also the insane amount of wood that the restaurant’s interior decorator used in the chairs, tables, and even the walls. As soon as we’d entered, he’d whispered that the place was a “sodding death trap for vampires.” I was nervous, too, but like in the doctor’s office in Denver, Spike’s anxiety kept me calm.
I picked up the menu off the table. “I have no idea what to order.” Willow, Xander, and I used to watch old Bollywood movies together, but Sunnydale didn’t have Indian food, and I didn’t eat it when I was younger either. All I knew was that the spices when we entered tickled my nose in an unfamiliar way, and I was curious to know if my love of the movies would equally translate to a love of the culture’s cuisine.
Spike seemed to pick up on my light-heartedness. “That’s okay, love. I’ll help you order; you’re going to love it.”
“You like Indian food? How am I just now figuring this out?” I was destined to always be learning new things about my vampire. He had so many more years of being on planet Earth than me.
He shrugged. “Dru and I took a short trip to India. Fell in love with the food.”
We no longer freaked out about mention of our exes, which was no small feat in and of itself.
I touched the cold condensation on my water glass. “What about it?”
“They’re known for their spices.”
I knew Spike too well. He was known to sometimes put half a bottle of Tabasco in his gumbo. “Spices as in spicy spices?”
He grinned, and mindful of my still sore thigh, he slid one hand over my hips, pulling me close. With his free hand, he ran a finger down the menu. “So for you, I’d suggest the tikka masala with chicken.”
I snuggled closer. “Mild, right?”
“Right. I’m going with curry with lamb.”
“Hot for you!” I pointed at the menu’s highest heat level.
“Bloody hell, no, pet!” His words were intense but his volume low, his breath over my ear so that I shivered. “When they mean hot, they mean hotter than even vampires can take. I’m going with medium.”
I laughed. “Finally found something too spicy, huh?”
The restaurant door opened then, and Spike and I lost complete interest in the food. Although we were among only a handful of late evening customers, Spike slid out of the booth. I couldn’t see anything and simply held my breath. As soon as his cousin rounded the edge of the tall booth, I was glad I had air to breathe out because I would have gasped.
Despite the distance of time and space and the mixing in of other genes, Spike’s cousin looked more like a brother than a cousin at first glance.
“You must be William,” the cousin said, shaking Spike’s hand.
“Yeah, mate. Nice to meet you finally.”
I hastened to my feet as the cousin turned to me. He and Spike were even the same height. I held out my own hand. “Hi. I’m Buffy.”
The cousin’s blue eyes were bright with life and a trace of humor as he grasped my hand in both of his warm ones. “I’m Shane. Nice to meet you.” He even had a British accent, only his sounded more like Giles’s.
Once we were all seated, Shane offered a brief smile at our waiter who brought him a menu and glass of water. As he perused the food options, I studied him. He had sandy blonde hair that leaned toward light brown, and he kept it short, shorter than Spike did. Shane’s skin was slightly tanned from being in the sun, and though he had a little more weight on him, he had the same sharp cheekbones. The only thing he lacked was a scar over his eyebrow, a heart that didn’t beat, and a craving for blood.
Shane caught me watching him and smiled almost shyly. “What are you ordering?”
“Sp- William suggested the tikka marsala with chicken.”
“Ah. A beginner,” Shane said with a note of teasing. Was he flirting with me a little bit? Whatever it was felt familiar and a little flattering. I noticed that he wasn’t wearing a wedding ring.
Spike shifted next to me, and I suddenly felt guilty for noticing anything remotely attractive about Shane. “That she is. How is the curry here?” There was a slight bravado in his voice that probably only I picked up on, and my heart tugged a little. I hated him feeling a moment of hurt because of me. I knew that was because of our past, a lingering little nuance of us. I reached over and gently squeezed his leg just above the knee.
Shane grinned at Spike. “A man after my own appetites. It’s the best I’ve had, and I’ve had a lot.”
Spike pushed his leg up under my hand, and the low-key bluster evaporated in his next words. “All right then.”
After the waiter took our food and drink orders, Shane regarded Spike. “So, I guess it’s kind of obvious that we’re related, but I’ve never heard of you until recently. I can’t believe you found me and my daughter on ancestry.com. I set up my account on a lark when my mum asked me to show her how. She wanted to document our history, especially since we immigrated here. She didn’t want me to lose track of our relatives. How did you say you were related to Great Aunt Martha?”
“I’m her son’s son.”
“Ah. Remind me what you do again?”
Spike immediately froze and hesitated. Oh, crap. He sucked at lying. This particular trait was one of the reasons I loved him, but oh, boy, he didn’t have a poker face even though we rehearsed our story ahead of time and more than once. “Oh, um, I. . .” he glanced at me, “she and I live in New Orleans.” Well, that was the truth at least.
I decided that Shane didn’t need to know that Spike worked at a bar, and I worked in a coffee shop. “We’re in the restaurant business. You know New Orleans – it’s known for its food industry.” Oh, Buffy, that was bad, too. I reminded myself to tell Spike we should never go to Vegas, and if we did, we had no business near a poker table. No wonder that shark came after him in Sunnydale.
“What kind of restaurant?” Watching us closely, Shane sat back in the booth, losing the relaxed stance that came with leaning toward us.
Well, at least, he wasn’t dumb. If we were going to ask for a sperm sample, a professor was of the good in terms of genetic links to intelligence. Let’s just hope the potential kid didn’t get my ability to form sentences like next one. “What kind of professor?” I knew the answer, but I was trying – and trying poorly – to deflect. Spike elbowed me in a way too obvious manner.
“English,” Shane said slowly, eyes narrowing. “What’s with you two? I mean, meeting you was already a little weird, but – ”
The front door of the restaurant banged open, wood cracking sharply on wood. The hostess screamed, and my ears detected the familiar sound of a vampire growl.
Spike and I exchanged an oh-shit look as an unfamiliar voice called, “Where’s the Slayer?”
I snagged my phone out of my purse and scrambled out of the booth as Spike stood near his cousin to protect him.
Over ten vampires had entered the restaurant and were fanning out around the virtually empty space. There was some relief in the lack of innocent people to protect. All the present human patrons and workers were frozen in place. I ignored the lead vampire and started texting.
Acting nonchalant, I read my text as I typed it. “Hey, Xan. Thought you should know that Norfolk has a vampire problem. I know there’s not an assigned Slayer here, but you might want to send the ones from Baltimore and DC to clean house.” Xander oversaw organization of the Slayers on the East Coast; I wasn’t sure where he was now, but he should really know about this.
“What?!” the lead vampire snarled and licked his lips, his tongue lingering on his descended fang. Totally Vampire 101. He was so going down.
I raised my hand as one of the humans made a small whimper of fear in response to the advancing vampires. “Hold on. Xander’s writing me back.” The three dots blinked on the screen.
I continued reading the texts aloud, “What are you doing in Norfolk, Buff?”
I typed back, “Visiting family and then headed back to NOLA. Send Slayers ASAP.”
Xander sent a quick text in return, “On it.”
I tossed my phone to Spike who smirked at me. “All right. I’m the Slayer. What do you want?” I crossed my arms and lifted both eyebrows at the lead vamp who had a mop of messy curls that cascaded to the top of his shoulders like the member of a bad ‘80s band.
“To kill you,” mop-head hissed before he sprang at me.
As he moved, I moved, lunging to grab a nearby chair by the leg and creating a makeshift stake from the wood. Passing the chair to Spike so he could make his own weapon, I launched myself at the vampire leader. The other vampires moved as one, and Spike and I soon found ourselves lost in the skirmish. At least, it wasn’t raining this time, and the veritable “death trap” was handy for weapons.
Mop-head was powerful but was too attached to his minions because he kept flinching when one was dusted. I used the tell to my advantage and quickly dispatched him. He was genuinely shocked by the fact that he had a piece of wood in his chest. Spike and I made short work of the rest of the vampires and whirled to see Shane cornered by the door to the kitchen where he’d led the humans.
A blonde-haired female vampire shoved Shane against the wall, growled, and ducked her head at his neck. Wide-eyed, Shane’s arm shifted, and the female burst into dust that followed the pull of gravity to the floor. Bringing his hand to his unharmed neck, Shane dropped the stake Spike had likely given him. The wood clattered to the floor in the renewed silence.
Shane was staring at Spike, who was in game face, “W-what are you?” His eyes flicked to me and then back to Spike where they remained fixed. “What’s a Slayer? And what do you want with me? I believe I deserve the truth, cousin.”