[A/N: Two chapters of happiness is all you gentle readers are getting. That last one and this one. After that, the angst and bad stuff starts happening all over again. And its going to come like most troubles do, not in singles, but in battalions (oooohhh can you tell me who said that?). Anyway, here it is, my Christmas in the summer chapter. . . . All is calm, all is bright. There was a virgin sitting with a baby under a Christmas tree in the last chapter, did anyone notice? Title is from that Irish band (from the album War, released in 1983) and the quotes are as attributed. The disclaimers someone insists I use (blame it on legal, I always do, although that just means its my own damn fault) really do prove that I don’t own any part of the Whedonverse.]

Previously: Cordelia is still comatose; Gunn and Fred are coming to Sunnydale. Angelus is expecting company also, but none has arrived yet. Buffy has just given Spike his Christmas present. This picks up later on during Christmas morning. . . .

Book Two. Chapter 34. Two hearts beat as one.


this is going to take a long time and I wonder what's mine
can't take no more
wonder if you'll understand it's just the touch of your hand
behind a closed door

all I needed was the love you gave
all I needed for another day
and all I ever knew
only you
Vince Clark, Yaz (Yazoo), 1982

She is coming, my own, my sweet;
Were it ever so airy a tread,
My heart would hear and beat,
Were it earth in an earthy bed,
My dust would hear her and beat,
Had I lain for a century dead,
Would start and tremble under her feet,
And blossom in purple and red.
Alfred Tennyson, She is coming, my own, my sweet



The first one awake that morning, was, as is fitting on Christmas, the littlest inhabitant of Revello Drive. The fact that he couldn’t do anything other than howl his displeasure about being alone and wet and hungry didn’t stop him from showing it. Spike had heard the first rumblings of the infant’s wakefulness and the baby belly growls that signaled vampire-like hunger pains and rolled onto his back, trying to wake up. He grinned for no apparent reason up at the ceiling, a soft purr emanating from his chest. Connor started to howl and Spike was up at his cribside before the boy had a full throat on him. Grinning down at the infant, he tickled him, then before the howls could reach dog-calling decibels, he picked him up.

Connor was soaked from stem to stern, his diaper hanging off him, weighing down the sleeper. Grimacing a little bit, Spike gingerly held him against his side, then lifted the soaked sheets from the bed also. Figuring rightly that it would be easier to just strip the boy down and get him clean from the skin out, Spike brought him into the bathroom. Filling the tub as he stripped off the sodden clothing, he dipped the boy into the water. Connor gurgled happily, his legs moving at a rapid pace. He was splashing, covering Spike in bubbles and all Spike could do was laugh right back at him.

This time next year, it would be his own sprog gurgling happily up at him. Spike still couldn’t completely wrap his head around that. Even knowing it had been a possibility ever since Rupert had found out about the potentials, Spike hadn’t, couldn’t bring himself to hope for it. Not even after he’d smelled and sensed the changes that were going on in her body. Part of him was too afraid to hope and another, bigger part of him wanted her to be the one to tell him – making it real, for both of them. And now it was more than possible.

Buffy’s pregnant.

Reality hit him square between the eyes as he looked down at the infant in the tub. This was his life. Infants. Bills. Medical expenses. College tuition.

Spike shook his head, pushing thoughts of a distant future out of his mind. Can’t think about that jus’ yet. Niblet’s not ready for college. . . not yet. Gonna have to worry ‘bout that soon enough. He couldn’t believe . . . well, mate, that’s wha’ happens when you take up with humans. Get human worries.

Not that he’d trade one second of this for going back to where he was less than a year ago. Scrounging for blood. . . . Extorting money from the scoobies and terrorizing fledglings to get him cash. Living in a hole in the ground. Shacking up with Harmony.

That had to have been nearly the very bottom for him. She was a vapid brainless twit who’s only worth lay between her thighs and while she assuaged an itch sometimes, he could only stand her when she wasn’t opening her mouth to speak, which was far too frequently for him. Thank god he’d seen the last of her. He shook off the memories of her, focusing instead on what he had now.

Everything.

Acceptance from some of the scoobies, including the Watcher, and now, Oxford. That had been a surprise too, that Percy would lighten up enough to consider him a friend. Christ, he’d craved that when he was William, from someone other than his mother, especially once the rest of the family were gone.

Approval, also from the scoobies, except for Xander, but Spike didn’t expect anything from the whelp ever, so that wasn’t an issue.

Respect. Something William had yearned for, as much as acceptance.

Love. Oh yeah, love’s bitch. First, last and always. He could admit it. Everything he’d ever done had been done to either prove his love to some woman or gain the love of some woman. And always before now he’d crashed and burned. His ill-fated infatuation for Cecily had doomed him to fall prey to Drusilla’s exotic wiles; his need to protect Dru had brought him to the very depths of his existence, alone, adrift without any means to feed himself other than relying on charity. And yet, from those depths he’d discovered his greatest joy.

It had taken a while to get there but the journey had been worth every step.

Because now he had everything.

Because of Buffy. Silly name for a girl. But she was his world. His everything. And now everything really, truly did encompass everything.

A muffled noise from the bedroom behind him pricked his attention and just as Spike was about to pull Connor out of the tub, Buffy opened the bathroom door behind him. Connor splashed happily, getting more soap on his bare chest and Spike play growled at the boy, which just made him clap his watery hands together. “Morning you two.”

“Mornin’ sunshine.” When she draped herself over his back, leaning her head against his shoulder, so that she could watch him with the baby, Spike stole a look at her. “All right then, sweetheart?”

“Yeah, I’m okay. Just missed you and heard you guys in here.” She kissed his shoulder, enjoying the feel of his muscles moving under her cheek.

“Could go back to bed. Its early yet.” He leaned over, twisting so that he could brush a kiss across her brow. “G’on.”

“Actually, I was gonna go down and make prune-boy a bottle so that we could all go back to bed together.” She snaked her arms around his waist, her fingers brushing over his toned abs. “How’s that sound?”

He thought about it for a long minute, just reveling in the feeling of being warmed from the water and her touch. Neither one wanted to move and Connor seemed more than content to play in the water. “Tell you what. How ‘bout I go get the bottle and you and sprog meet me back in the bed in ten minutes.”

“Mmmm. . Buffy like that one.” She quipped, letting her hands wander over his pectorals, and teasingly brush over his nipples.

“Thought we weren’t supposed to do tha’ in front of spawn here.” Spike growled deeply as she did it again.

Her shrug moved her breasts and nipples against the muscles of his back and Spike forced away the growing arousal he felt at her touch. “Not doing anything but touching.”

Lifting the baby from the water in a strong yet gentle grip, Spike dumped him on the towel he’d laid on the floor. Turning around he eyed her sleepy form. “So, when I do this,” he said as he pulled one strap of her nightgown down, exposing her nipple to his heated gaze and lightly licked the very tip, “you won’t mind, coz all ‘m doin’ is touching, yeah?”

She inhaled sharply, not anticipating the electric bolts that arced through her at his touch. Goosebumps rose across her flesh when he did it a second time, not a sound escaping him, and no other part of him touching her, just his tongue on her nipple.

Buffy reached for him, but Spike stayed just beyond her touch, his tongue flicking gently over the nipple. “Its only a touch, yeah? No harm in tha’.”

His voice was husky, his breath almost warm as he blew air over her nipple. Buffy wanted to drag him closer, but Spike was trying to prove a point, so he moved back away from her.

Her nipples were both hard points, tantalizing him with their ripeness. “An’ this is jus’ a touch.” His left hand cupped the swelling weight of her exposed breast, his thumb brushing over her distended nipple, barely touching it. Buffy fought the shiver his touch invoked, trembling under his gentle assault.

A whimper sounded in the air around them, and it took her long seconds to realize such a needy noise had come from her.

His eyes were intent on hers, watching her pupils dilate with arousal as he leaned down to lick her nipple once more. “Jus’ a tiny touch.” His tongue drew a wet circle round her areola, avoiding the nipple itself.

Spike withdrew from her, then using one finger, he moved the other strap down, leaving both breasts bared to his heated gaze. The scent of her arousal was over-powering in the small room and he stopped breathing so that he could maintain control over himself. Buffy one-handedly gripped the side of the bathtub hard enough to turn her knuckles white as he lowered his mouth to the previously neglected breast.

“Only a touch.” He breathed over her, raising more gooseflesh, as his tongue streaked across her skin.

“Oh god.” She breathed out in a bare whisper. “Oh god.”

Eyeing her breasts, Spike slowly ran a single finger over first one nipple then the other, watching her as the effect of his touch raced through her. He moved no closer, breathed not a word, just merely touched her. She was frozen in place by her arousal, unable to move, anticipation stringing her out over a deep precipice.

He withdrew his touch from her, dropping his hand down to his side. Her breathing was erratic and he could hear the thundering pace of her heart and, taking a huge gamble, inhaled deeply. His head swam with the overwhelming scent of her arousal. He could taste it, feel it rolling across his tongue and sliding down his throat, that’s how potent it was. Drawing in a second breath, no long caring of the infant that was quietly settled on the floor behind him, Spike moved again. Using one finger again, he traced the lines of the pulsing blue veins on her leg, not stopping at the flimsy lace barrier.

Buffy had nearly begged him to keep touching her when he’d stopped, but each time she tried opening her mouth, her voice eluded her. Just when she was ready to scream, his finger slid along her leg, starting just below her knee, snaking up and over the rounded bend, and up along the smooth length of her thigh. She watched fascinated as his finger delved under the folds of her delicate nightgown. She drew in a breath, unable to let it go for fear of the shrill noise that was sure to erupt from her throat.

His finger brushed over the junction of her hip, sliding down over the fleshy globe of her ass, and there too, he could feel the gooseflesh come to life. Grinning to himself, Spike let his digit roam over her, mapping the contours of her skin, reveling in the feel of her. Her leg moved as he reached a sensitive spot between the globes, and he stroked it again, letting her feel the weight of her own arousal. A wicked gleam entered his eyes and if she had seen it Buffy would have been very worried. But she missed it and Spike just allowed his thoughts to wander along that path for a few more moments. Eventually, kitten, we’ll get here. . . . but he kept his silence, letting his touch do what no amount of cajoling or pleading ever would.

Her almost involuntary movements opened her up and he nudged her by just adding a tiny bit of pressure against her leg and Buffy followed his silent request by bending her knee up. She took advantage of his direction, angling her body to face him and the lace nightgown bunched around her waist like a decorative belt. She was completely naked now, save for that scrap of material around her middle, exposed and open to his gaze. It no longer mattered where they were or even who they were. . . All that mattered was his touch upon her.

His oh-so-evil finger traced a line from between her bottom up over the curls covering her sex, sliding effortlessly through the folds of her soaking pussy, settling over her stiffened clit. He pressed it once, then abandoned it, letting his finger course over the delicate skin surrounding her engorged sex. She garbled out something completely unintelligent and Spike’s expression turned into a lethal leer.

She couldn’t bear it any longer, she needed to touch him back, affect him the way he was affecting her. Buffy dropped her hand down to where his barely touched her and following his example, used one finger to touch him. Her smaller warmer touch traced the fine bones and muscles of his finger and hand as it flexed and moved against the warmest part of her, then trailed up to caress the strong sinewy muscles of his arm. She followed the path of silent blue veins, her touch leaving heat behind, heat enough to warm him from the inside and Spike forced his attention back to his own task.

Her hand ghosted up his arm as his finger slipped inside her, then slid out. Her breathing hitched on a breathless gasp and Spike repeated the action and she retaliated by brushing her fingertip over his own hard nipple, simultaneously flicking it as he flicked her clit.

The only sound in the room was the whisper of their touches, the soft exhalations of their breathing and for him, the thunderous sound of her pounding heart. His name escaped from her in a whisper, no louder than a breath, but he heard her. He started to speak and found he couldn’t, his own arousal as paralyzing as hers. She switched hands, allowing the other to fall back along the line of her leg, and her hand dropped down to his half opened jeans. He got up on his knees, allowing her the same freedom to explore and Buffy wasted no time in flicking open the rest of his buttons.

Her finger traced over the head of his cock, watching it jump and strain against her finger, mesmerized as moisture gathered at the tip. Using the moisture, Buffy slowly slid her finger over the swollen head of his erection. Spike groaned low in his chest and Buffy could see the vibrations of it in his throat and her body thrummed in response. She wanted him . . . He regained her attention as he slid his finger deep inside and his thumb brushed over her clit. Buffy retaliated by using her forefinger and thumb to circle around the tip and she moved her fingers up and down, just encompassing the head of his cock. Spike rose up on his knees, letting the jeans slip down his hips, silently encouraging Buffy to let her fingers grasp his full length. But she wasn’t done teasing him, because she ran her finger down the underside, dragging it over the small globes of his balls. Spike looked down at her, his eyes glittering and feeling his attention on her face, Buffy lifted her eyes to watch him.

She was swept away by the desire in his eyes, by the love swirling in the ocean blue depths. Her fingers cupped his balls and she gasped as he slipped a second finger into her warm depths. “Oh god Spike. . . need you.”

Her words broke the spell and he finally found his voice. “Fuck, kitten, need you now. . . “ His free hand circled round her hip, pulling her close, as he struggled to control his unnecessary breathing.

“Buffy. . . . . “

She didn’t resist. She couldn’t. Not when he said her name with such raw need.

Her mouth settled on his as her name slipped from his mouth, tongue sliding between his opened lips. Buffy broke the kiss, breathing his name out over his face as his hand cupped her breast and she leaned her forehead against his. “Spike. . . please. . . . “

He pulled her closer, molding her breasts against the hard planes of his chest. “Buffy. . . now. . . “ Spike collapsed back on his haunches, her legs draped over his thighs. “Lemme in. . . .god, woman, lemme in. Now.”

Wrapping her arms around his neck, Buffy undulated against his cock, grinding over him. Gripping her hips tightly, Spike lifted her up, positioning her over the tip of his erection. Growling as she slid down on him, Spike threw his head back, jaw clenched, muscles standing out starkly. “Fuck. . . sunshine.”

Her pussy was hot living silk, wet and warm. . . no, not warm. . . “Christ Buffy . . . so bleedin’ hot. . . “ She was burning, scorching wet around him, drowning him in liquid fire, being inside her now was like being encased in hot. . . “Augh. . . . Buffy . . . . “

It wasn’t enough, letting her set the pace. He needed. . . . groaning, Spike stumbled to his feet, Buffy still impaled, writhing on his cock, strangling him in her need.

Bracing one hand on the wall, Spike held her to him, urging her to move faster. Buffy was gasping, a softly breathed squeal erupting from her every time he moved.

His foot brushed against the baby and Spike stepped away, then dropped again to his knees, laying Buffy down on the floor. Thrusting hard into her, Spike reached for her clit and as he pinched it between his fingers, Buffy’s whole body arched, then convulsed around him. Her orgasm triggered his and as he surged into her, she climaxed again, breathlessly crying out his name.

Lifting her against him, he cradled his mate close, feeling her heart pulse all around him.

Collapsing on the floor, Spike stared at her dazed features, then chuckled when she couldn’t move.

Buffy laid her head on his chest, her legs splayed on either side of his hips, his cock still nestled within the warmth of her and she smiled. Spike nudged her once and she lifted her head to look at him. His hand slid up under her hair, cupping her head and instead of speaking, he pulled her closer for a deep kiss.

She flexed around his cock, which had him grinning and ready again, but she stilled when a soft baby sigh interrupted. Slowly she lifted off his chest, tightening around him and her gaze left his to focus on the infant on the floor beside them.

Freezing a little, Buffy relaxed when she caught a glimpse of the baby. He was flat on his back, sprawled out on the towel with part of it pulled over him, his thumb firmly in his mouth. Connor was sound asleep.

A soft giggle escaped from her and Buffy turned her eyes to Spike. “Guess he really doesn’t care.”

He started to speak and she said in mock anger, “if you like this, you won’t say anything, buster. Not I told you so or anything else. Not a word.”

Instead of saying anything about Connor or their current positions, Spike just rolled them over, his arms circling her head and he leaned down to whisper into her ear, “see kitten, tha’s all it takes. Just a touch. . . jus’ your touch. “

He smiled then, once more whispering, “happy Christmas wife.”


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


Dinner was done, the decimated remains of a mostly rare roast beef, turkey, potatoes, lots of vegetables and various other dishes still piled on the table, while the denizens of Revello Drive groaned in gluttonous happiness. Giles leaned heavily on his elbow, a tumbler of MacAllan’s in front of him, while he looked around the table at everyone.

It was, he thought, a brief shining moment of respite amidst the chaos that was life on the Hellmouth. And while not a pure undiluted happiness, it was so much the sweeter because it was not. He grinned, watching Dawn preen over the bracelet she’d gotten from Casey, showing it off for perhaps the hundredth time, when he saw a look pass between the two Summers girls. His attention pricked more when the unspoken communication appeared to be turning more urgent and Giles caught a glimpse of a wary look on Dawn’s face, which cleared up when Buffy shook her head.

Wesley said something to Oz, drawing Giles’ attention away from the girls and he waited patiently while Oz wrote his response on the portable dry erase board they’d dragged out of storage for him to use. They’d all surprised him this morning, eliciting a highly emotional response from the normally reticent man. Everyone had finished opening their gifts and finally, when all the noise had quieted down for a second, Tara had nodded once to Spike, who reached behind the couch and removed the box he’d placed there for safekeeping. The box was nearly as big as the werewolf and Oz had raised a single eyebrow in question. He finally gave into everyone’s entreaties to just open the gift. He’d shrugged in a typical gesture, his attention on the box. As he’d opened it to reveal a new bass guitar and a used amplifier, Oz had tears in his eyes. Unable to speak he’d just hugged the blond witch tightly, moving onto all the other girls one by one.

All in all, this had been a very good Christmas. Despite the loss and despair surrounding most of the past year, there was some glimmer of hope that the future might not be awash with death and destruction. Yes, Joyce was gone, and very sorely missed. Yes, Buffy had been gone, but she’d been returned to them. Giles considered his slayer, the daughter of his heart. Buffy was sitting further down the table, on the other side of Wesley, while Spike lounged at the head of the table, his eyes never leaving her. He smiled at something she said, then watched her pick at a piece of roast beef on her plate. Spike raised a brow, silently urging her to eat it and Giles watched as Buffy’s face blanched a bit.

No. . . this soon? Without thinking, Giles spoke, effectively silencing the conversation around the table. “Good to see you are over whatever bug you picked up. Feeling any better now?”

She blushed, which pretty much answered his unspoken question and took a moment to compose her answer. Without daring to look at either Dawn or Spike, Buffy tried to respond to Giles. “Yeah. Feeling all better now. No more belly aches for Buffy.”

Catching the gazes of everyone around the table, Buffy smiled wanly. She studiously avoided looking at Spike, who leaned back at Giles’ question. His eyes never left the watcher, almost daring the other Englishman to press the issue.

Dawn had frozen the instant Giles started to speak, her eyes seeking out the expression on Spike’s face. Catching the look out of the corner of his eyes, Spike gently kicked her under the table. Dawn relaxed, waiting to see what would happen when Buffy tried answering. Rolling her eyes at the lameness of her response, Dawn couldn’t stop the snort of disbelief from escaping her lips.

Anya, who had been starting to clear away dishes, bluntly stated, “are you kidding? You hardly ate much of anything. Just mashed potatoes and a couple of rolls. . . . “ her voice trailed off as she realized everyone was staring at her. “What? I’m just stating a fact. Buffy didn’t eat much at all.”

“Thanks Anya.” Buffy shrugged. “So its still a little wonky. Its nothing that won’t go away.” In a couple of weeks. . . . I hope. She got to her feet, grabbing her plate and Spike’s in an effort to avoid everyone’s stares. Trying to sound very chipper, she asked, “who’s ready for dessert?”

But her effort fell flat when her quick movement made her stomach heave and caused her face to loose all color. No one spoke until Dawn said, “I’ll finish clearing. You sit. Dessert can wait.”

Taking the plates from Buffy, Dawn pushed her way past Anya and into the kitchen. Buffy sat down abruptly, unable to look at anyone, even Spike. Tara leaned forward, facing Buffy across the table. “Are you okay?”

The slayer shook her head. “Gimme a minute.”

Spike looked at her, communicating with her silently and she started to shake her head no, but finally after a few long moments in which everyone tried not to pay attention to them, Buffy visibly caved. She nodded her head and Spike said, “Nib, come back in here.”

Dawn came back into the dining room, a towel in her hand and in a stance very reminiscent of her father, she leaned against the wall. Spike cleared his throat, gaining everyone’s attention. “Right then,” he paused, all at once at a loss, he started to speak then stopped. “Thing is . . . “ and Buffy touched his hand and shook her head.

“The reason I’ve been all under the weather Buffy is because” and she paused long enough for Dawn to lose her mind and when it looked like Anya’s head was going to explode with curiosity and excessive tension, Buffy finally said, almost in a whisper, “I’m pregnant.”

There was no sound until Oz banged his hand on the table. Once he had everyone’s eyes on him, he wrote on the dry-erase board, holding it up for everyone to see. He’d written one word, “cool” and the sight of it broke the silence covering the room.

Dawn pushed away from the wall, grousing good-naturedly, ‘so wanted to let the cat out.”

Tara got up from her chair and made it to Buffy before anyone else. Hugging her, she asked, “this is a good thing, right?”

Buffy nodded tearfully, thankful that Tara didn’t judge her or her choice of mate, or any part of her life. The two blonds hugged again and Buffy sniffled once, wiping her eyes. Anya smothered her next, wrapping both arms around her shoulders, her voice very cheerful as she whispered loudly, “you do know that sex is supposed to be better when you’re pregnant. Every part of you is more sensitive, at least that’s what I’ve heard. Are your nipples sore yet?”

The blush staining Buffy’s face bloomed into a cherry red and she covered her face with her hands. Tara stared at Anya, unable to come up with something to cover the former demon’s pronouncements and the giggle that gurgled up nearly strangled the dark blond and she covered her mouth, but couldn’t stop the laughter. Glancing over at Oz, who had both eyebrows up, Tara finally lost it, collapsing against Buffy’s shoulder in helpless giggles.

The slayer glanced over at her vampire, who merely raised his eyebrow in question and the memory of their early morning activities surfaced, causing her blush to deepen. There was no safe answer for Buffy to give Anya so instead she just said nothing.

Giles sat still in his chair, completely at a loss. He’d known this was a real possibility, once he’d found the information in the Council archives, but hadn’t expected it quite this soon. Sharing a glance with Wesley, Rupert struggled to get his feelings in some sort of order. Part of him wanted to berate Buffy for the insanity of getting pregnant now, given that Angelus and Drusilla were wreaking havoc and Willow’s motives and actions were also questionable. . . but that was just a small part. His tight-lipped smile directed at Wesley gave away none of his thoughts, and he was grateful at the moment that the girls were reacting so volubly, because he had no idea how to frame what he was thinking.

He wasn’t even sure what he was thinking. His slayer, one of the longest lived in recorded history and twice returned from death, was pregnant. This was monumental. Of no less importance was the father of said baby, the Slayer of Slayers, William the Bloody. He’d long since come to terms with Spike’s transformation and his differences from other vampires and his subsequent actions to protect those he loved. Spike might be a monster, but he was their monster. Lock, stock and bloody barrel. Giles contemplated the pair at the opposite end of the table. Buffy was haltingly trying to explain to the other females how she was feeling and what changes her body was going through, while Spike listened with half an ear, his eyes on her hands as she tried to explain.

Wesley got up from the table, taking over the cleanup duties that the girls abandoned in light of the big announcement. As he passed Spike, Wesley slapped him on the back and cracked semi-sarcastically at him, “congratulations old man, didn’t know you were up to the challenge.”

Spike leered, chuckling deeply. “‘M up to any challenge, Oxford.”

Oz leaned over, thumping the table again to get Spike’s attention, his hand extended to offer congratulations. The werewolf tried grinning, unfortunately the wires holding his jaw shut prevented it, but the sincerity in his eyes wasn't hard to miss.

Leaving the girls to their chatter, Spike followed Wesley’s example and continued clearing away the dinner dishes. Giles stared at the girls for a few moments longer, then got to his feet to follow the rest of the males into the kitchen. Spike was loading the dishwasher while Wesley searched around for containers for the leftovers. Placing his drink on the counter Giles wracked his brain for something to say, when Spike beat him to it. “Go ahead, Rupes, its not like ‘m . . . . “ his voice trailed off and he looked at the older man. “I know ‘m not what you wanted for her, so jus’ go ahead and say what’s on your mind.”

“Actually, Spike, I wasn’t thinking that at all.” Staring down at the blunt tips of his fingers, Giles struggled for words to explain to his almost son-in-law. “I’ve not had the opportunity to have children of my own. Buffy is as close to me as my own flesh and blood would be. She’s made her choice of mate, and honestly, I can’t say that I fault her. And I’m not unhappy for you. I was merely thinking of the implications of this news. We are in dire straits – what with Angel and Drusilla roaming about Sunnydale and an obviously out of control Willow. I’m concerned for your safety. For Buffy’s safety. And your child’s. We need everyone at top form.” He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose between two fingers, his gaze settling on the blond vampire. “The claim strengthens you both, but this news, while not unwelcomed, presents us with another set of minor difficulties.”

Spike nodded his head in understanding. “You aren’t sayin’ anything that hasn’t already gone through m’head. But its not me you have to say anythin’ to, Watcher. You need to speak to Buffy.” He paused for a moment, looking at Giles, then said, “an’ you should do it soon.”