Disclaimer: I don’t own Nikki, Buffy, Spike or Robin, it’s sad, but true.

Author’s note: Some dialogue from ‘Fool for Love’ used. Thanks to the fabulous and extraordinary Bloodytearsoflife for betaing! *hugs* Thanks to Cewcew, Chanel 5, vladt, idk, Tasha and Copy for the great reviews!
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Chapter 24: A Special Little Boy

Buffy watched the little boy and the Watcher cross the pavement and enter into a building at the end of the street. The imposing brown brick townhouse didn’t look like the place a child would live in. Through the windows she could see the shelves of books that lined the walls.

Questions flooded her mind. Was the Watcher really this little boy’s father? Guardian perhaps? Where was his mother? Who was his mother? Was his mother a Slayer? Was she still alive?

Buffy leaned against a mailbox pretending to inspect her nails as a woman in a long leather coat walked along the sidewalk on the other side of the street. Instantly Buffy had answers to her questions. The over riding sense of ‘Slayer’ filled the street, making her stand on alert and urging her to run or hide.

She had never heard of a Slayer having a child before. It wasn’t something she’d wish on any child, not knowing if their mother was going to die when night time came. It made the need to get a wish out of this little boy even more desirous. Buffy watched the Slayer walk into the townhouse and slam the door. Buffy glared at the house before teleporting home.
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Robin Wood couldn’t have been more than 4 years old. Buffy had established his routine in the next few days. Preschool in the mornings, afternoons with his mother as she trained with her Watcher, evenings with the Watcher, and then taken back to his home, a one bedroom apartment in the Bronx for the night. It was nearly impossible to get the child alone at all. Buffy respected that. At least the Slayer was trying her best, given her job. Even so, little Robin deserved a wish.

Their tiny apartment, full of stakes instead of toys, made Buffy’s heart break. She’d teleported in, hoping to catch some sort of glimpse into just what kind of wish Robin would make. She wanted to find a common ground that would make the little boy comfortable. There weren’t many pictures on the walls. The ones that were displayed were old, of the Slayer with her family and friends, on the day of Robin’s birth. Buffy had to wonder just what had happened that her family would abandon her and her little boy, regardless of being a Slayer...unless the Council refused to let her contact her family. Robin should have been left with his grandparents.

Of course there was a good possibility that her entire family was dead too; that often happened to the family of a Slayer. She supposed it was remarkable that Robin was even alive.

Buffy poked around the apartment gleaning what information she could about her ‘client’ until she was startled by a loud crash against the other side of the door. Buffy put down the picture frame she was holding and prepared to teleport away when she heard something that made her roll her eyes.

“Slayer! Come out here!” roared a growly male voice of the demon variety.

The hulking M’Fashnik demon crashed through the door and stepped up to Buffy, peering down upon her small frame, followed through the door by a couple of Fyarl demons.

“You aren’t the Slayer!” growled the M’Fashnik.

“Really? I hadn’t noticed with the teleporting and the vengeance...” noted the former Slayer with intense sarcasm.

“This is the Slayer’s place though...”

“Ya, it is,” admitted Buffy. “And now you are going to ruin my plans!” she pouted.

“Who the hell are you anyway?” the M’Fashnik demon asked, starting to pick through the belongings around the apartment, the two Fyarls punching holes in the walls.

“Erixel,” Buffy introduced herself, holding out her hand, as if she expected it to be kissed like in the days of her youth.

The M’Fashnik stood up straighter with a look of fear evident in his eyes. He grasped her hand gently and brought it to his lips, planting a small kiss on her knuckles.

“I apologise for my interruption,” mumbled the demon backing away. “I had no idea you had designs on this Slayer...”

“Touch either the Slayer or her son before I get his wish, and you’ll regret it,” she stated factually, allowing her demon visage to come forward for a moment.

The M’Fashnik nodded vigorously as Buffy teleported away with one thought on her mind.

Who had hired the M’Fashnik to take on the Slayer?
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Spike paced in his basement lair, minions hanging on the edges of the room, worried that their Master was going to lash out at them. New York was going to be the site of his second slayer kill. He could feel it in his bones. And yet before him were incompetent minions that couldn’t do the simplest task in the world, like break into the Slayer’s apartment and ruin that feeling of security she had.

“What do you mean there’s another demon interfering with the Slayer? If I knew better mate, I would have thought you’d gone soft.”

The M’Fashnik before him growled at the implication.

“Well just who was this all powerful demon that put you in your place then?” Spike asked, a cocky grin spreading over his face.

The M’Fashnik gulped. “Erixel.”

Spike’s face dropped its cocky grin and he stood for a fraction of a second wide eyed and shocked. He recovered though, a hard glare taking shape on his face.

“Hey, I have children. I don’t want her getting to them, I’m sure my eldest would love to make daddy soup after I told her that she couldn’t go see Star Wars with her boyfriend alone.”

Spike was mad. He kicked out at a nearby table reducing the item of furniture to kindling in seconds.

“She said that if anyone touched the Slayer or the boy, she was going to make them regret it. I believe her. I have this friend...”

Spike backhanded the M’Fashnik shutting him up. “Get out of my sight!” growled the vampire.

The M’Fashnik, Fyarls and Vampires all scurried out of the room, hoping to get out of Spike’s vicinity.

“Elizabeth Cecily Underwood!” Spike called out into the darkness of his lair, livid. “Get your snotty vengeance demon ass down here!”

There was a puff of smoke and Buffy appeared.

“Well that’s hardly the usual chant I respond to, you know, William,” she chastised, stepping out of the smoke. “Since when are you in New York?”

“Since when are you in New York?” he countered.

“Since 1953 actually,” she admitted.

“That would be why you didn’t come to Noël’s funeral,” he growled.

“No, I was in Arashamahar for that, one of D’Hoffryn’s ‘Be the Best Vengeance Demon you can Be‘ conferences. I was glad that you were there for her though,” said Buffy sadly. “Makes up for missing Christopher’s.”

Spike lost some of his rage. “I...Dru...”

Buffy clenched her fist, an action not lost on Spike. “I don’t want to hear about her,” demanded Buffy. “What do you want? I have things to do.”

“The Slayer is mine, Buffy. I’ve been tracking her for ages,” started Spike walking towards his former lover.

“And you can have her, after I get a wish out of her child. I’m not interested in the Slayer. It’s not worth the aggravation trying to get a wish out of someone like that.”

Spike nodded, his eyes sweeping over her appearance, little changed from the last time he saw her, with the exception of the purple hair. Her outfit though...He curled his tongue behind his teeth in a very obvious leer.

“Dress up for me, pet?” he asked, his cock already becoming hard in his ripped jeans.

Buffy looked down at her outfit and then back at Spike’s and smiled. Spike would actually probably appreciate the praise of the Doc Martins too. Her fishnet stockings and pleated plaid skirt had captured his gaze though. And here she would have thought it’d be the Sex Pistols’ concert T shirt.

“Hardly,” she finally growled. “Like the hair though,” she continued, waving her hand towards his bleached and spiked locks.

“Hate yours.”

Buffy pouted for a second. “You don’t like the purple?” she asked, fingering a lock of her hair.

Spike couldn’t resist the pull of her lip. He stepped closer towards her and reached out his hand to touch her dyed locks.

“You’ll always be my golden goddess,” he murmured.

“Except when your dark princess calls you to her side,” she muttered, roughly pulling away from him. “Is that all you wanted?” she asked, a cold look in her eye. “I have things to do.”

She stared him down, daring him silently to keep her here. In a puff of smoke she was gone.
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She should have known he wouldn’t leave well enough alone. Buffy peered out from under her black umbrella into the pouring rain, watching with thoughtful eyes as Spike fought the Slayer she had told him to leave alone. The little boy, Robin, watched on, hidden behind a park bench. Her heart went out to the little boy. He shouldn’t have to see his mother be killed right in front of him.

Not that Buffy wanted Spike dust either. Stepping across the street and into the park in which the slayer and vampire fought, Buffy caught the eye of the little boy in the rain coat and smiled. He smiled back

“Well, all right. Got the moves, don't you? I'm gonna ride you hard before I put you away, luv,” came Spike’s voice through the rain.

You won’t be riding anyone Spike, grumbled Buffy internally.

“You sure about that? You actually look a little wet and limp to me. And I ain't your ‘luv‘.“ Buffy stifled a chuckle at the Slayer’s quip before letting her attention drift to the little boy behind the park bench.

She wanted nothing more than sit down on that bench and watch the two adversaries fight each other to the death, but she had a job to do.

The look in Robin’s eyes was tragic. He wanted the fight to stop, for his mother to take him home and tuck him into bed. Nothing more.

The fight raged on until Spike had the Slayer and was about to sink in his fangs. Buffy panicked. Fangs in another Slayer’s neck and right in front of her. It was like China all over again. Buffy looked around to see just where Dru was this time.

Robin kicked over a garbage can and the fight took a new turn, much to Buffy’s delight. Until the Slayer drew a stake and threw it at his chest. “No!” she screamed, stepping out from behind the tree she had been hiding behind and into the rain, forgetting about her umbrella.

Spike caught the stake with ease only inches from his chest. The Vampire and the Vengeance Demon locked eyes for a second, his gaze returning to the deadly woman in front of him. “ I spent a long time trying to track you down. Don't want the dance to end so soon, do you, Nikki? The music's just starting, isn't it?” Spike tossed the stake at her feet and turned to walk away, leaving the Slayer and the snack sized morsel behind the bench, but also Buffy to the rain. A delicious grin came over his face and he turned back, swinging around a lamppost as he did, staring the Slayer down. “By the way...love the coat.”

Buffy rolled her eyes teleporting away before the Slayer could notice her presence.
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Two hours later, Buffy teleported into the spare bedroom of the Watcher’s house, where Robin was tossing and turning but not actually sleeping.

Tucking her purple hair behind her ear, she crouched down beside the bed.

“Hey,” she started softly.

He didn’t respond, looking confused.

“Don’t worry, I’m not here to hurt you, not like that vampire in park. I’ve been watching you. I’ve decided that you’ve been a good little boy. You know what happens sometimes to good little boys and girls?” asked Buffy.

Robin shook his head against his pillow, sheets pulled up to his chin.

“They sometimes get one wish to come true. Do you have a wish you’d like me to grant?”

“Are you like a Genie?” he asked.

“Sorta,” giggled Buffy. “I grant wishes, just like a genie, but only one, not three, so you have to think really hard about what you want, ‘k?”

Robin nodded his head.

“I know what I want,” he finally said, softly.

Buffy nodded.

“I wish the mission was over,” he said softly.

Buffy stood up and shifted her face into demonic guise. “Wish granted,” stated Buffy simply, before disappearing in a puff of smoke leaving Robin with a smile on his face.

Across town, in a subway car, Nikki Wood’s neck was snapped.
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Buffy appeared in the rain blocks away from the watcher’s house. The drops of rain mingled with the tears that had trailed down her face. In all her years as a vengeance demon, she had never before taken the life of another slayer. Startled out her contemplation of wrongs, past and present, by the splash of a car driving through a puddle, Buffy put up her umbrella and walked, just walked, through the darkened streets of New York.

When he spied her, finally coming out of the subway station, she was wet through and crying, the umbrella she kept over her head moving along with her sobs. Spike adjusted the collar of his new coat and made his way over to her, his Doc Martin’s splashing in the puddles.

Standing in front of her, ducking so that the umbrella wouldn’t poke him in the eye, he caught her chin with two fingers and raised her gaze to his.

“Hey cutie,” he greeted, smiling.

“Vengeance sucks,” she whimpered, raising her arms to settle on his shoulders before sobbing into the leather coat he was wearing.

Carefully he picked her up letting her rest her head on his shoulder, her little fingers holding onto his trophy. Without a word she opened a portal, her sobs becoming more controlled. Stepping through the portal, Spike laid her down up on her bed, cupping her cheek with his hand as he stepped away and began to remove her boots.

Buffy realised what he was doing and sat up, perplexed. “Why are you being all nice?” she questioned.

“You shouldn’t cry love. It’s your job, it’s not who you are,” he started.

“It’s all I have,” she moaned, stretching her foot out as he removed her fun boots.

“That’s not true luv,” he tried to soothe her.

“It feels true,” she sniffled, makeup running down her face.

He started unlacing her other boot.

“And again I ask, what’s up with the being non snarky Spike? Aren’t you supposed to be all grr and wanna shag a lot, you did just kill Slayer number two... Where’s your ho bag of a sire?” she inquired, reaching for a handkerchief and wiping her eyes.

“New Orleans,” he answered with a glare. “I came up here when I heard about the slayer bird. She’ll call when she wants me.”

“As ever,” noted Buffy with a roll of her eyes. “Probably the moment you sink your teeth into me. And don’t you look at me like that, you know as well as I do what happens when we occupy the same space for any length of time. You get all growly and possessive and I get all ‘Fuck me, I’m yours’.”

Spike tossed her boot side and laughed. “You are quite the stroke to a vamp’s ego, pet.”

Buffy lay back on her bed and closed her eyes for a moment, enjoying the feather light touches Spike was ghosting along her legs. She exhaled accepting that, yes, she would be ending up stroking a lot more than his ego tonight. She raised herself up onto her elbows and stared into his blue eyes.

“Did you bite her?” she asked plainly.

Spike was a tad bit caught off guard by her question, a puzzled expression on his face.

“The Slayer? Did you bite her? Did you fuck her?” Buffy continued bitterly.

“Jealousy doesn’t become you, pet,” he said, standing up from the edge of her bed and kicking off his boots.

“Answer the question Spike,” demanded the former Slayer, not noticing his actions at all.

“We fought, I won. The end.”

Buffy‘s eyes scrutinized him. “And you are telling me that given the opportunity to sample the best blood a vampire can drink, the blood of a Slayer and you turned it down?” she asked, her eyes staring into his meanly.

“This one was an equal,” he conceded. “Worthy opponent and all that rot.”

He crawled up on the bed beside her, his arms wrapping around her tenderly. With a sigh, Buffy laid her head on his shoulder.

“She made me jealous,” the former slayer admitted, snuggling up against him, the leather of the coat soft against her cheek.

“I know, I could smell it,” he said, sticking his face into her hair and inhaling deeply.

“I shouldn’t be jealous though. We were over before we even began. Christopher’s gone. Noël’s gone, there’s nothing keeping us connected anymore.”

“Except the marks on your neck, Buffy.”

Buffy snorted.

He turned to face her, his face serious. “You’re mine, Buffy. My mark on your neck. No other vamp will sink their fangs into you.”

“As if I’d let any other vamp bite me. I’m not just some feed you know.”

“Right, powerful demon girl you are,” he conceded.

“You better believe it, Vampire.”

“Still mine,” he argued with a raised eyebrow.

“You never made it official. Never claimed me. You aren’t mine. You belong to Drusilla. Even if she hasn’t made it official on her end. You don’t belong to me. You aren’t in love with me.”

She stared into his blue eyes a moment, waiting for him to say something, anything. She wanted him to admit it, or deny it or even just look away from her uncomfortable gaze. Instead he shifted into demonic guise, fangs bared and bit into her neck.

Instantly wet and ready for him to slip his cock into her folds, Buffy wrapped her legs around him awkwardly wanting as much contact with him as possible. It was as if he had pulled out a secret weapon to make her cease being angry with him. That thing he did with his fangs was priceless. His hands disengaged from her arms and slid down between them, unzipping his jeans and letting his hard cock out to play. Settling himself between her thighs he reached under her skirt and painfully ripped away her silk panties, before sliding his length deep within her pussy.

Buffy gasped as he filled her, his fangs still in her neck, moving within her. She clenched her inner muscles around him, countering his thrusts. With a snarl, Spike tore his fangs out of her neck, and pressed his lips against hers. His thrusts were violent, harsh, bruising, against her pelvis, a stark contrast to his earlier gentle actions. Slamming against her roughly and still in game face, Spike growled out his satisfaction as she took his brutal use. With a glare she shifted into her own demonic face and countered his punishing thrusts with her own, both demons seeking to outdo each other.

She wanted to be mad at him, she wanted him to beg forgiveness, to pledge his undying and immortal love. It was an unrealistic ideal though. Even as he pounded into her wet core, his length sliding in and out and hitting that bundle of nerves that in a few short minutes would cause her to scream out his name, she knew that he’d go back. He always went back, to her.

Buffy dug her fingernails into his skin, drawing blood, as she screamed out his name. A harsh thrust and he was roaring out her name as well, collapsing against her skin, her wet channel milking his cock as it softened inside her. They lay there motionless for a few moments, Buffy debating whether or not to kick him out of her bed now instead of waiting for him to feel Dru call to him.

Slowly he drew away and began to right his clothing.

“And he’s off,” she noted, laying back upon her pillows.

“I’ve got to go,” he tried to explain.

“Right...Dru...” Buffy stood up and smiled sadly. She knew this was how it was going to end, just like all the other times.

“Well it was nice while it lasted. See you in 30 years or so?” she asked, half seriously. She opened a portal and guided her vampire to it sadly.

Thirty years was a long time between shags.
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tbc...