Disclaimer: The pixies tell me that I don’t own the BTVS and ATS characters. However I had a nice little shouting match with them about who owned Reagan and Christopher.

This chapter is dedicated to Copykween who was lamenting the lack of a certain unconventional pairing in Buffy fanfiction. Thanks to the awesome Bloodytearsoflife for her continuing wonderfulness and for betaing this chapter.

Thanks to wulfie, spet, Fairy's Midwife, Tasha and Marzbar for the fab reviews.
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Chapter 17: In the Closet

Buffy swallowed and turned her eyes back to his, a steely resolve setting in. “No,” she answered firmly. “I won’t tell you where Christopher is Spike. Please don’t ask me to risk our son’s life again.”

Spike rose from his seat on a cello case and took her hands.

Buffy shook her head as he looked at her. “I can’t risk it Spike. He’s just a baby. What if the Immortal wants to use him as a sacrifice? I can’t do it Spike,” she whimpered, bowing her head as the tears came.

Spike gathered her up into his arms, holding her tight against his chest as she drenched his shirt with her tears. His cool hands feathered over her back with soothing touches, calming her sobs.

It wasn’t fair that he knew exactly how to calm her, how to reach her. Her nails dug just a little further into his shirt, the droplets of blood from his shirt staining her pink dress.

With a sigh, Spike crooked his index finger under her chin and tugged her chin up, so that her green eyes met his. The sadness within them was astounding, breaking his undead heart more than he thought possible.

Her breath hitched as she struggled to regain her composure, blinking back tears. Slowly his lips enveloped hers in a passionate yet tender kiss.

She broke away, after a moment.

“Don’t tempt me with what I can’t have Spike,” she whispered, ordering him, on the verge of begging him to stop.

“Not tempting, Buffy. Thankful that my son has such a brave mother,” he whispered into her ear, his lips brushing against her skin.

Throwing caution to the wind, Buffy leapt into his arms, crushing her lips against his, her tongue begging entrance to his mouth. He had teased her long enough.

“I’ve missed you!” she moaned into his mouth.

His hand wove into her hair, pulling her against his body, the air between the two demons kept at a minimum.

The world and the room, and the demons feasting in the next one, fled from their thoughts as they re-explored each other’s bodies, through corsets and trousers.

Spike pulled her to the floor amidst cello cases and stacks of sheet music. Buffy reached for her pendant for a moment, checking to see if it was indeed in place before letting her hands wander once more across the planes of his chest. She ripped at his blood covered shirt, desperate to expose as much skin as possible.

Spike pushed up her skirts and settled her on top of his straining cock, only to feel her warm dampness seeping through the fabric of his trousers.

She wasn’t wearing any knickers! his inner voice rejoiced.

In a swift movement, he had flipped them over, pressing her into the floor, pushing her legs back and seeking purchase on her warm pussy.

She gasped as his tongue made contact.

The sounds she made drove him wild; she was vocal, and he loved every moment. She was his and his alone, unlike Drusilla, whom he shared with Angelus and occasionally Darla. Buffy was the mother of his child too, something that he had never expected to have since his turning.

“Spike!” she moaned, as she writhed against his face.

Pressed as she was against the floor and hidden behind instrument cases, Buffy failed to notice the initial entrance of intruders on their tryst.

She did notice, however, when she heard a very familiar voice moan in ecstasy.

Both Buffy and Spike stopped what they were enjoying to look over at the pair that had intruded.

“Oh! Right there! You are a big vampire aren’t you?” came Anyanka’s voice.

Buffy’s jaw dropped as she recognised her friend and the demon that was with her.

“Angelus?” whispered Spike in recognition of his grandsire, lodged between Anyanka’s thighs, pressing the vengeance demon up against the wall.

Anyanka’s moans resumed with fervour. Buffy turned back to her lover’s blue eyes and reached out to undo his trousers. His cock fell at attention poised for entrance. With a snarl, Spike pinned back Buffy’s hands and thrust into her hot core.

The closet filled with the two couples writhing and moaning, as screams from the main hall echoed on into the night.
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The sun had risen by the time Buffy felt the feeling return to her legs. She stood leaving her vampire sprawled on the ground.

“I will never get tired of vampire stamina,” resounded Anyanka’s voice from the other end of the closet.

“You and Angelus huh?” asked Buffy as her friend shook out her skirts, trying to free them from wrinkles.

“Why not?” answered Anyanka looking down at the sleeping vampire. “He’s much larger than Dracula, and he’s pretty too, in a large man kind of way. I am partial to men with large upper arms.”

Anyanka opened a portal and beckoned Erixel through. With a tender look at Spike sleeping soundly on the floor, Buffy stepped through, praying that he didn’t come after her and Christopher.
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Buffy teleported into the house she was born, her body coiled with worry. The room was quiet, and the evidence that a child lived there was minimal. Annette was a good housekeeper, that much was certain.

“Mummy!” came a shrieking voice, followed by the sound of rapid footsteps.

From around the corner of the room, her little boy ran towards her, his blonde curls bouncing as he did, his arms lifting to indicate that he wanted to be picked up.

Dropping to her knees, Buffy opened her arms and enveloped her son in a hug. He had grown so much since she last saw him and was looking more and more like his father every time she visited.

“How’s my little Christopher?” she asked the three year old seriously.

“Very well mummy,” said the little boy, his blue eyes piercing into her own.

She had tried to visit when she could, when she felt it was safe to do so. But with her vengeance job taking across the globe and her paranoia about others finding out about Christopher, she erred on the side of caution more often than not.

Annette entered the room, now seventeen and grown up. Buffy wondered very much if Annette regretted having to care for William when she could be attending balls and parties, turning the heads of countless boys.

“Madame!” greeted Annette with a smile.

Buffy picked up her son, and rose to her feet. “Hello Annette,” said Buffy as she gave her maid a hug. “Has this little demon been a good little boy?” she questioned as she tickled Christopher on the tummy.

“Oh yes, Madame, he is an angel.”

“She isn’t covering for you Mr. Fairchilde?” Buffy asked her son.

Christopher shook his head.

“Annette! I will be here for a week. You are on vacation!” declared Buffy.

“Oh! Madame!” giggled Annette eagerly. “You are too good to me!” She gave Buffy a quick hug of thanks before departing from the room.

“Mummy, can we go to Arashamahar?” asked Christopher, barely getting the big word out of his mouth.

Buffy looked seriously at her son for a moment. “Perhaps when you are older Christopher. There are Demons that would wish to eat little boys like you.”

“Mummy teases!” exclaimed Christopher.

Buffy pressed a kiss to her son’s head. If only I did tease, she thought.

“Madame, Madame Reagan sent you a letter,” Annette factually informed her, as she brought in tea for her mistress and milk for Christopher.

Annette set out the cups.

“The Vicar would like to discuss with you the upbringing of your son...He is a tedious old man who is busy with everyone’s business...” ranted Annette.

Buffy plopped her son down into a chair next to the tea table, chuckling as Annette went off on the Vicar who just wouldn’t leave their little family alone.

The cover story that Reagan had provided her and Christopher had been detailed, but didn’t make them impervious to gossip.

Buffy was supposed to be Mrs. Blood, an invalid widow with a young son, Christopher, living off the deceased Mr. Blood’s fortune.

In reality, they were living off of Buffy’s original fortune in Buffy’s family home. The home that held so many horrible memories for her. This was the house in which her family was killed.

The fact that the Vicar wanted to see Mrs. Blood in person was a problem. Buffy sipped her tea in contemplation of the problem. Her solution...there must be someone wishing vengeance on the vicar of their little village.

Annette handed Buffy Reagan’s letter to Mrs. Blood. Buffy set down her tea cup and opened the letter eagerly, stopping only to wipe a crumb off of Christopher’s cheek before reading.

Dearest Mrs. Blood,
It has been an age since last we corresponded and even longer since you last visited. I write to announce the birth of our second child, Amelia Elizabeth Wyndham-Price. Mr. Price, our dear Wesley and I are ecstatic on the new arrival. Can we anticipate the visit of our dearest friend to make this joyful period in our lives complete?
Your friend,
Reagan Wyndham-Price.

Buffy contemplated it for a moment before smiling down at her son. “We cannot go to Arashamahar Christopher, but perhaps you would enjoy a visit to your Aunty Reagan’s?”

Christopher clapped his hands happily.
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Buffy left Annette behind, determined that the girl should have a proper vacation without having to worry about Christopher.

They travelled by train, a short ride into London and arrived on Reagan’s doorstep as if they were just normal visitors.

The housekeeper ushered them inside, directing the carriage driver to deposit their trunk in a spare bedroom.

“Buffy!” called Reagan as Buffy and Christopher were directed into the parlour of Reagan’s house.

Reagan had aged. She was showing her twenty-nine years, still beautiful, but clearly a mother of two.

Buffy hugged her friend.

“Is this Christopher? My goodness you have grown into a big boy!” gushed Reagan, picking the three year old up. “Would you like to see your cousins?” Reagan asked the child.

Christopher nodded, his curls falling into his eyes.

Reagan led the pair up the stairs to the nursery, whispering for Christopher to be quiet as they entered.

With awe, Christopher beheld the two younger children sleeping in their cribs. With a smile he turned to his mother.

“Mummy? Can I have a baby too?”

Buffy nearly melted at her son’s comment.

“Maybe some day Christopher, when Mummy and your Papa see each other again.”

Christopher pouted a moment before being distracted by Reagan and a new toy. Christopher had never met his father. In the three years since she had told William of Christopher’s existence, he had never sought her out, he had never expressed interest in finding his child, just like she had asked.

She didn’t know if he had not pressed her further because he respected her wishes or because he had no interest in seeing his son. It had been a few years now and she hadn’t run into the Immortal’s henchmen in a long while.

“Reagan?” Buffy started before getting cut off by her friend.

“He’s in Austria with the rest of them. Still with Drusilla,” said Reagan before Buffy could finish her sentence.

“Oh.”

“He’s not the ideal father for Christopher to grow up emulating you know,” Reagan whispered so that Christopher wouldn’t hear.

“Your father wasn’t the purest of souls either Reagan. Oubliette? Ring a bell?”

Reagan looked contritely at her. “Sorry, you are right. I worry...William is a vampire Buffy! What kind of message does that send to your son?”

“I had hoped that it would send the message that his father loves him,” she replied with a sigh. “I just couldn’t bear it if William didn’t care at all about his son.”
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tbc...