Chapter 17
 
 
Buffy trudged home in a foul mood.
 
Her mom still hadn’t gone back to work full time so she’d taken a half day and picked Annie up at lunchtime. This had given Buffy no excuse to take a play break in the training room and Anya had kept her constantly occupied during the afternoon, serving customers and hauling boxes up and down the basement steps.
 
Then there was Spike.
 
Or to be accurate, there wasn’t Spike. All afternoon, Buffy had half expected him to appear through the tunnels. Then, as soon as the sun had gone down, she had fully expected him to arrive in a flourish of black leather to escort her home. Every time the shop bell had rung to announce a new customer, her breath had caught in her throat and she’d looked up, only to feel increasingly let down when it proved to be yet another person who wasn’t Spike.
 
At last, six o’clock had come around and she’d been freed. Surely Spike would be outside with the car, ready to save her aching feet and whisk her home; the same way that in L.A, he’d always waited for her to emerge from that crummy diner. She’d searched up and down the street and even in the alley, but no. No big black car. No Spike.
 
Hence the foul mood.
 
“Stupid vampire,” she muttered under her breath. “He’s forgotten that mom invited him to dinner. What’s he doing that’s so gosh-darned important that he’s gonna stand mom up? He knows how important it is to keep her happy.”
 
A few minutes later, her insecurity took over from her irritation. “I know what he’s done! He’s found the treasure and decided he doesn’t want to share it!”
 
By the time she arrived home, she’d convinced herself that: “He’s had second thoughts and decided he’s not interested in me now he’s found out about Annie. Why didn’t I figure that out? He’s a guy, and guys don’t want to be tied down by sudden, out of the blue fatherhood! He’s got the gem and is on his way out of town, back to his evil ways.”
 
She couldn’t allow herself to believe the tiny voice in her head that protested, ‘But Spike wouldn’t do that. He loves me. And besides, he’s sworn to protect Annie with his life and he needs to stick around to do that.’
 
She hesitated on the front porch, key in hand. “Idiot vampire. What am I gonna tell mom?” High girlish laughter rang out from inside the house. “And oh god! Annie! She was so excited to discover she had a daddy and now he’s gone and bailed on her.” Tears started trickling down Buffy’s cheeks. She closed her eyes and leant her forehead against the cool, solid wood of the door. “She’ll be devastated. It’s all my fault. I should never have told anyone he was her father. They say you can’t miss what you’ve never had.”
 
She couldn’t put it off any longer. She dashed away the moisture on her face with her sleeve, took a deep breath, put on an ‘I’m fine’ smile, and opened the door.
 
She dumped her backpack on the floor, hung up her coat and paused to admire a vase of flowers on the hall table. It was a huge bunch of daffodils with a couple of different types of foliage. “Ooh pretty!”
 
“Mommy! Mommy! Mommy!” Annie cried, appearing at Buffy’s side. She grabbed Buffy’s hand and dragged her into the living room. “Look! Look!” Once through the double doors, Annie released Buffy’s hand and threw herself prone on the floor amid a scatter of colourful pieces of paper.
 
Buffy smiled at her daughter’s enthusiasm, exchanged a nod with Dawn who was sitting to one side, then froze in shock.
 
“’lo love.”
 
“Spike?” Her eyes welled up again. This time with tears of relief and joy. He hadn’t given up on her. He’d stayed and was here, playing on the floor with his daughter like any other father.
 
He lay on his side, propped up on one elbow, red crayon in hand, clearly as engrossed in the childish activity as Annie. He wore his customary black jeans, but instead of the plain black t-shirt and open red over-shirt that she’d always thought was his only outfit, he wore a deep violet button down shirt that looked remarkably like silk, tucked in and buttoned up, but open at the neck.
 
What’s more, his hair wasn’t slicked back in his preferred helmet style, but was tousled into loose curls, the smear of bright pink at his temple showing that it had been mussed by chubby toddler fingers. It made him look oddly boyish, but utterly scrumptious.
 
Annie dropped her green crayon and held out her hand to Spike. “Lellow,” she demanded.
 
He placed a yellow crayon in her hand and she rewarded him with a blinding smile before adding a patch of yellow swirls in one corner of her drawing.
 
“What do you say?” prompted Dawn, looking up from her own artistic effort.
 
Annie rolled her eyes in a very familiar way but said, “Fankoo, Daddy.”
 
“You gonna join us, Buffy?” Spike asked, riffling the papers. “I think there’s still some blank paper here somewhere.”
 
“You’re here!” was all that Buffy could think of to say.
 
“Well, yeah. Invited to dinner, if you remember.”
 
“Oh, I know! It’s just…” She waved her hand helplessly. How could she tell him she’d doubted him? Well, that was simple; she couldn’t. “Oh, nothing…”
 
She was saved by Joyce calling from the kitchen, “Ten minutes, everyone! Time to get washed up for dinner!”
 
Buffy held out her hand to Annie. “Come on, Jellybean. Hand wash time.”
 
“Meant to ask,” Spike said as he eased a reluctant Annie to her feet. “How come Jellybean?”
 
“Um, when I finally admitted to myself I might be pregnant, I did one of those home tests, you know? Well, actually I kinda did six. Then after I’d finished freaking out, I went to the doctor. She gave me a little booklet explaining all the stages of development and I worked out the baby was about the size of a jellybean. It kinda stuck.”
 
Buffy supervised Annie’s hand-washing, responding automatically to her excited girly chatter, then handed her daughter over to Dawn. She then quickly packed her overnight bag and brought to the front of the closet the outfit she’d chosen to change into after dinner. She had been thinking about it all day so it only took two minutes to arrange the black leather pants, the satiny crimson shirt and the lacy red underwear so that she’d be able to do a quick change once Annie was asleep.
 
On the way downstairs, she grinned, acknowledging that she’d deliberately chosen Spike’s favourite colours.
 
And he always did like her in leather.
 
Twenty minutes later she was splitting her time between helping Annie and eating her own meal.  Annie had done well feeding herself with most of her dinner, but was having trouble with her mashed potato.
 
Paused with her hand raised with a loaded fork, Buffy stared in bewilderment at Spike and her mom. All through the meal, Spike had been ignoring her in favour of devoting all his attention to her mother. They were dominating the dinner conversation with a discussion of the goings on at the gallery. Spike seemed to know more about her mother’s business than Buffy did herself. It was disconcerting, to say the least.
 
“But what they didn't get was; that it was a copy of the bill of lading. They thought that it was another order form. So now I've got two shipments of Greek amphorae on my hands!”
 
Dawn chuckled politely, but Spike laughed as though it was the best joke in the world. “That's funny, Joyce. And really, how many do you need, amphorae?”
 
Joyce’s disturbing giggles subsided and she said, “That reminds me, I’ve been meaning to ask Xander to drop in and see if he can devise a display stand for them.”
 
Spike nodded knowledgeably. “Yeah, the decorated ones from the Iron Age and later are easy enough, but those Bronze Age ones with the pointy bases must be tricky.”
 
An urgent tug at her sleeve brought Buffy’s attention back to Annie. “Mommy! Tater?”
 
Buffy looked around to see wide, pleading blue eyes and a mouth gaping like a nestling bird anticipating a juicy worm. “Sorry, baby.” She filled the waiting mouth with potato then prepared the last forkful and laid it down, ready for Annie to help herself.
 
“I don’t suppose Buffy told you about the incident with the Nigerian tribal masks and the zombie attack? Not one of my wisest primitive artefact purchases, I’ll admit. It was just after Buffy came home from L.A…”
 
Buffy rolled her eyes and got up to clear the plates and bring in the banana cream pie for dessert. She didn’t need to hear about the creepy zombie cat and the welcome home party from hell. She’d lived it.
 
Dawn caught up with her in the kitchen with the empty serving dishes as she scraped plates and stacked them in the dishwasher. “Is it weird?”
 
“Huh?”
 
“Having a boyfriend who gets along so well with mom. Is it weird?”
 
“Kinda…”
 
“Did you see the pretty flowers he brought her?”
 
“Spike brought those?”
 
“Yeah. Mom went all misty-eyed and gushy about the Victorian language of flowers. Who knew a vampire would know all that stuff?”
 
Buffy whispered, very conscious of Spike’s vampire hearing. “Don’t tell anyone, but it’s just the kind of thing that William... before he was vamped, you know? Just the kind of thing that he would know all about.”
 
She grabbed the pie and Annie’s special plate with her sliced banana and a token dollop of whipped cream, and bracing herself for further embarrassment, led the way back into the dining room.
 
 
~*~*~*~
 
 
Spike had been very jovial and chatty over dinner and had taken his leave of her mom with sincere thanks for the meal, but he’d been very quiet and thoughtful in the car on the way to the Bronze. “Is it like that every night?”
 
“Is what like what every night?”
 
Spike parked around the corner from the club, turned the engine off and sat back in his seat, gesturing helplessly. “The kiddy kerfuffle. Dinner; quiet time with story; bath; milk; bed; another story then lots of pleading and procrastinating and resisting going to sleep for as long as possible.”
 
Buffy chuckled as they got out of the car. “Yeah, pretty much. Except that sometimes there’s tantrums too. She was on her best behaviour tonight ‘cos you were there. It’s only since I had Annie that I’ve realised how demanding and time-consuming children are. I’ve been so lucky to have mom and Dawn and the gang to help. I don’t know how other single moms do it.”
 
“Humph.”
 
“What?”
 
“Hmmm? Oh, nothing. Just thinking.”
 
“Big thoughts, huh?”
 
Spike slipped his hand into hers and led her towards the club entrance. “Come on, love. Let’s get your celebration with your mates over with then I’ll have you all to myself at last.” He tucked his tongue behind his teeth, waggled his eyebrows and looked her up and down with an evil glint in his eye.
 
Buffy pulled his head down for a kiss. “I know. I’ve missed you too. We won’t stay long, promise. A drink with the guys and a couple of dances and we’re out of here.”
 
The Bronze was packed, as always on a Friday night. There was no live band but the DJ was playing upbeat dance music, so the floor was heaving with bouncy sweaty teenagers and young adults.
 
Buffy stretched up to peer around in search of her friends and quickly found Xander and Willow on the couch under the stairs. Xander spotted her at the same moment and raised a hand in welcome, gesturing excitedly at the vacant places beside them.
 
At the sight of Willow grinning and beckoning to her, Buffy felt a surge of the same cold rage she’d felt when she’d first learned of Willow’s high-handed manipulation of her life. How dare Willow behave as though she’d done nothing wrong? Did she honestly expect Buffy to go and sit beside her and talk to her as though nothing had happened?
 
She deliberately turned her back on the pair and caught a brief glimpse through the dancers of Tara and Anya at a small table on the other side of the club.
 
She gave Spike a nudge towards the bar. “Get us some drinks, honey. I’ll be over there.” She pointed out the two girls who were huddled together in intense conversation.
 
Buffy skirted the dancers, snagging two unoccupied chairs on the way. She slid the chairs into place at the girls’ table, sat on one and kept a firm grip on the other. “Hey guys. Why the glum faces? I thought we were here to celebrate the deadness of Glory?”
 
Tara flushed and looked down at her hands, clenched in her lap, but Anya said, “We were trying to decide what the perfect wish would be to punish Willow for her abuse of you and Tara. Oh, and Spike as well, of course, but wronged women were always my speciality.”
 
“We… we weren’t really going to make a wish,” Tara hastened to add. “It’s just that… I’d had a fight with Willow and I was going to stay at a friends’ for a few days for some thinking time. She made me forget about that and then when we went to bed…”
 
“And there’s a name for people who trick people into having sex with them,” Anya broke in. “She did the same thing with you and Riley.”
 
“But Riley and I… we weren’t… we didn’t…”
 
“You know when that frat house got all sexy? If you hadn’t been influenced by Willow’s spell, would you have been able to resist fornicating with Riley?”
 
“Oh. I don’t know. I never thought of it like that…”
 
“So that’s why we’re being creative with the theoretical vengeance.” Anya said with a grim nod. “Also, I’m pissed at Xander for sitting with Willow even when I said I didn’t want to, so I’m taking suggestions for how I’ll make him pay for that.”
 
“It’s very cathartic,” Tara said with a sly grin. “I never suspected I could be so vicious.”
 
“Ladies,” Spike said as he arrived with three brightly coloured drinks complete with swizzle sticks, fruity garnish, curly straws and umbrellas. “Buffy didn’t specify, but I figured that averting an apocalypse, even by accident, calls for something fun and festive. We have a Blue lagoon—that’s kinda orangey; a Purple rain—that’s peachy, and a Sex on the beach—that’s all tropical fruit. Choose your pick.”
 
He sprawled beside Buffy, put one arm around her shoulders, dropped a quick kiss on her lips and withdrew a bottle of beer from an inside pocket of his duster. He took a drink and then gestured with the bottle. “And I’m telling you now; don’t expect me to get such girly drinks on a regular basis. The barman gave me a very funny look.”
 
Buffy giggled and said, “You do know we’re not twenty-one yet, don’t you? We’re not supposed to have alcohol.”
 
“Speak for yourself,” Anya said, eagerly reaching for the Sex on the beach. “Thanks, Spike. I haven’t had one of these for years.” She took a long sip. “Oh, yum.”
 
They chatted for a while and then when the music changed, Buffy leapt up. “Oh, I love this song! Dance with me Spike!” She took hold of his sleeve and pulled him to his feet.
 
“Well, if you’re going to dance,” said Anya, getting up and straightening her skirt. “Come on Tara. Since Xander’s being stupid, you’ll have to dance with me. But not in a lesbian way.”
 
Tara chuckled and stood, taking Anya’s outstretched hand. “Not in a lesbian way. You gotta deal.”
 
The group was easing onto the edge of the dance floor when Xander came up to them. “Buffy! Why didn’t you come and sit with us? I thought we were going to celebrate Glory’s doom. You upset Willow so much, she started crying. And now she’s gone home!”
 
“And of course, we mustn’t upset your precious Willow,” Anya said scathingly, brushing past him with Tara in tow. “Even when she totally deserves it.”
 
“We are celebrating, Xander,” Buffy said. “But there’s no way I was ready to be all friendy with Willow yet. Not after everything she’s done.”
 
“But it’s Willow!”
 
“Look, you might be ready to forgive what she’s done to us, Xander, but I’m not. She’s just gonna have to deal until I am.” She spun into Spike’s arms. “And for now, I’m gonna dance with my guy and then…” She looked up into Spike’s smiling face, got lost in his adoring blue eyes and forgot what she was going to say.
 
“And then they’re going to go and have sex to get reacquainted. Lots of sex,” Anya said, twirling Tara and swaying her hips to the beat. “Hours of sweaty sex with superpowers…” She heaved a wistful sigh. “I remember what that was like. I miss it.”
 
 
A/N:
 
Spike’s bouquet for Joyce:
Daffodils – Respect; Ivy - Fidelity & friendship; Fern – sincerity.
 
You might recognise a couple of lines borrowed from: S5 Ep14 ‘Crush’,Written by David Fury