Cast Me Not Away by Enigmaticblue

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Chapters 15-20

Chapter 16: March 2004

"So, we going or what?" Spike asked impatiently from his spot by the kitchen door. "Thought you said this was important."

The expression on Wesley's face was unruffled. After nearly a year of Spike's company, he knew the vampire fairly well. Spike would needle a rock to try and get a reaction, he could be as impatient as the day was long, and he was loyal to a fault. The best way to deal with Spike, he'd discovered, was simply not to rise to the bait. Ever. Staying cool, while treating the vampire with respect, gave Wesley a competent partner and an incredibly steadfast advocate.

It was a refreshing change from people he would not name.

"It is important," Wesley replied. "However, we have a meeting with an informant first, and we don't need to leave for a few minutes yet."

Spike frowned, obviously ready to be up and away. "This informant require my fists?"

"Hardly." Wesley took a sip of the tea Nika had thoughtfully brewed for him. She'd left shortly after he had arrived, but she had prepared the kettle and left out a plate of scones. If he wasn't careful, Wesley knew that he'd put on more than the few pounds she swore were necessary. Feeding people seemed to be a compulsion with her. "I'm sure you'll work out all the aggression you need on our target tonight. A Harin nest is hardly something to take lightly."

"Preachin' to the choir here," Spike reminded him. While he might not have the encyclopaedic knowledge that the ex-Watcher did, the vampire did have an impressive grasp of demon habits and lore. Wesley never was quite sure what Spike did or didn't know; it was often a surprise. "You gonna be okay to go in, though? Harin's won't take a bite out of me, but they'd look at you as a right tasty meal."

Wesley shrugged. "I'll simply have to make sure they don't get the chance to take a bite then, won't I?"

Spike raised an eyebrow. "S'pose so." He gave the man a piercing look. "You doin' okay, mate?"

Wesley looked uncomfortable before he managed to regain his poker face. He'd perfected it over the last couple of years, priding himself on not revealing anything to the outside world. Unfortunately, it seemed at times as though Spike had x-ray vision. "I'm fine," he replied stiffly.

"Yeah, fine," Spike echoed. His eyes were kind. "Wesley, 've been—where you were, yeah? 's not where you are anymore. You got a problem, be happy to take care of it for you."

Wesley only wished the vampire could. Nightmares, however, weren't something that could be fought with fists and fangs. This time of the year, near the anniversary of his terrible mistake and subsequent banishment, the nightmares seemed to plague him anew. It wasn't something he wanted to explain, but he knew he had to say something. "I haven't been sleeping well," he admitted. "There's not much to do about that, however."

Spike nodded, entirely serious for a change, lines appearing on his youthful face that weren't always so easily seen. Moments like this he looked almost more ageless than he usually did—both old and young at once. "Been there," Spike said. "You might want to think 'bout talkin' to Nika. She's got some stuff—"

"I'll be fine," Wesley interrupted, abruptly dismissing the idea.

Spike snorted. "Yeah, right. Look Wesley, if you're thinkin' the nightmares are penance, you've already paid your dues. 'sides, Nika gets a good look at you, she'll have me sittin' on your chest so she can pour somethin' down your throat. Trust me."

Wesley smiled, knowing very well that the woman's maternal instinct was finely honed. Spike was right. If she got the chance to take a good look at him, she would know something was wrong, and she would want to do something about it. In a way, Wesley didn't have a problem with the idea of accepting Nika's help if she offered—or ordered, which was more likely. It was the asking that presented the dilemma. He didn't want to ask.

"When she notices, I promise to take my medicine like a good boy," he replied wryly. "Until then, however, we have work to do."

Spike pushed himself up from the table. "'bout time."

~~~~~

As Wesley explained the nature of the demons as well as the plan for their destruction, Spike bit back the desire to shut him up. He knew by now that Wesley lectured as a retreat from nerves or emotions. If he was feeling anxious about the upcoming fight, or if he was having a hard time in general, he'd start sounding like a textbook.

Spike understood nervous habits. After all, it wasn't like the nicotine did anything for him. Smoking had become a habit over the years, something that eased the tension of the moment, that gave him something to do with his hands. The taste and smell of the smoke—particularly strong to a vampire—soothed him. For Wesley, it was rote knowledge and lecturing as though from a pulpit. It was best just to let him ramble on, let him ease his mind with words and information.

Harins were dangerous, but they weren't all that agile or hard to kill, from what Spike understood. They did like making snacks out of humans, being rather fond of kidneys, but if you had a pointy weapon and knew how to use it, they weren't a potent threat. Of course, they'd upset a kindergarten class when they tried to make a snack out of the teacher. Apparently, budget cuts had caused the classroom to be moved to the basement, and the voices had disturbed the Harins enough so that they'd gone to investigate. It should have been their hibernating season, but with ample temptation, they were willing to break tradition to eat. It had been a rather astute school administrator who had hired them.

Spike let Wesley's words wash over him, nodding or interjecting a few comments in the right places. He assured the ex-Watcher that he would be careful, that he wouldn't risk his physical safety more than he had to, and that he'd use his ax to go for their heads. "We know that there are at least four, Spike," Wesley stated, winding up the lecture. "Going after the head is the only way to ensure a quick kill."

"Think I don't know that?" Spike asked, with some amusement. "Wesley, we already talked about all that. Matter of fact, we both know I could walk in there and take care of all of them myself." They didn't actually know anything of the sort, and Spike was hoping the human wouldn't call his bluff. "What's got you so worked up, mate? Haven't heard that kind of lecture since I was in school, an' that was long before your time."

Wesley looked away, unwilling to share his emotional turmoil, unwilling to acknowledge that even though it had been two years, his friends' rejection still hurt. "I simply wanted to ensure your compliance."

Spike didn't like words like compliance. Submission, obedience, and subservience also struck wrong chords. He'd spent too much time belonging undead-heart, body, and mind to someone else. He hadn't traded one master for another. "I don't comply," he said, his tone hard. "Might agree, because it's a good plan, but I'm not your employee, Wesley. I do this as a favor to you, remember? I could make just as much money playin' poker a few nights out of the week."

There was more to the vampire's words than Wesley's poor use of semantics. He winced, nodding. "Of course, Spike. I'm sorry."

Spike shrugged, his anger receding as quickly as it had come. "'s okay, mate." He sighed. "You do know you start goin' off like that when you're feelin' a bit bad about somethin', right? 's like a tell in a game of poker."

Wesley wasn't sure if he had known or not, but he thought Spike might be right. "Now's not the time for that. We should go."

They left their bikes where they were in the parking lot of the school and went inside. The human had the directions to the basement memorized, and Spike followed his lead, his yellow eyes glowing in the dark—the better to see you with, my dear. It always amazed him that Wesley could walk so calmly with a demon at his back.

Spike wondered, not for the first time, if the man's sense of self-preservation hadn't been damaged.

The boiler room was exactly where Wesley's contact had said it would be, but when they entered, all Spike could do was let out a string of curses. It seemed their informant hadn't been accurate on the numbers. It was going to be an ugly fight.

They fought back to back because there was no other way to keep track of one another in the melee. There was also no other way to make sure one of the demons didn't take a chunk out them while they were trying to ax another. The Harins might not be quick, but they were big, and there were over fifteen. The numbers threatened to overwhelm them, and it seemed that those who had woken early had gone to get all their clan for a hearty meal.

Spike might have wished for a flame-thrower, if he'd had the time to think about it. As it was, the vampire was too busy killing Harins and making sure they didn't start munching on Wesley. Not to forget the fact that their information was a little off. The demons might not prefer vampire, but they weren't above taking a bite out of one.

He roared in full-out vamp mode as one of the smaller ones sunk its teeth into his leg. With a swing that would have put Tiger Woods to shame, the ax severed its head. The demons were fewer now, and Spike unexpectedly sensed that there were more humans in the room with him. In fact, he was feeling downright crowded with heartbeats.

As the last Harin squealed its death-cry, the vampire barely had time to deflect the stake aimed in his direction. "Hey!" Spike protested. "What the bloody hell was that for?"

"Gunn! Don't!" Wesley was suddenly standing between him and the tall black man with a stake. Spike could see a mixture of disgust and anger on the stranger's face that was reminiscent of the Slayer at her most Slayer-like. "He's a friend."

"You hookin' up with random vamps now, Wes?" the man called Gunn demanded. "I'd have thought better of you."

Spike could see Wesley stiffen, as though he'd been struck. From where he stood he could see two women, both looking worried—as though they wanted to intervene but couldn't. If they were who he thought they were, Spike knew Angel couldn't be far behind.

He wasn't.

"Wes?" Angel sounded incredulous as he came back in through the door, having chased the last straggler down. "What are you doing here?"

Wesley's voice sounded foreign to Spike's ears. It was cold, diamond-edged. "I might ask you the same, Angel. We were hired to clear out this nest by a school administrator."

Angel blinked at the "we," and then his eyes widened as he caught a glimpse of Spike. While Spike wasn't above giving his grandsire as hard a time as possible, he was not in a winning position. The ladies might not try for a kill, but Angel and Gunn had no qualms. Spike wanted out of this suddenly-small room where he had a chance to fight and/or run, and didn't feel so much like a trapped rat.

"Move out of the way, Wes," Angel demanded.

Wesley didn't budge. "You'll have to kill me first. Spike is under my protection, Angel."

Spike suddenly felt as though he couldn't quite breathe, even though air was unnecessary. In the past, he had been rescued, he had been relied upon, promises had been demanded of him—but no one in all his unlife had ever offered their life for his before. No one had ever put him under their protection and said, in essence, "You may have him over my dead body."

Maybe it was a bluff on Wesley's part; the human knew that Angel wouldn't kill him in cold blood, not after they had witnessed Wesley and Spike fighting the good fight. (Albeit for a nice, fat paycheck.) Even if it was though, Angel had tried to kill Wesley before, and the ex-Watcher had to know that the older vampire could be just as dangerous with a soul as without. For a brief moment, Spike really thought Angel might kill them both—go right through Wesley to reach into his chest and yank out his unbeating heart.

Spike realized that he loved Wesley in that moment. Not the poofy kind of love, but the kind of love you have for a brother in arms. The kind that would lead you to lay down your life for him. Words from his distant childhood echoed in his mind: "No greater love has a man than this—that he lay down his life for his friends."

Spike was a creature of extremes—love and hate, joy and despair. His love and loyalty was of the all-out, no-holds-barred variety, but no one had ever responded to him in kind, not even Drusilla. (Except Dawn. But Dawn was unique in his mind.) To be on the receiving end broke something inside him, made him softer—in a good way. The man might not know it, but with his words, Wesley had bound Spike to himself in a way he hadn't been before.

The moment passed, and some of the tension left Angel's posture. Wesley seemed frozen by the sight of his old friends, now that the danger was over. "What are you doing in L.A., Spike? I thought you were supposed to be in Sunnydale with Buffy."

"Shows how much you talk to her then, doesn't it?" Spike sneered. Relief and wonder were coursing through him in equal parts, and he was feeling mad-dog protective of Wesley. The ex-Watcher wasn't moving, his face cold and distant. "Left Sunnydale ages ago, Peaches. Decided to try my luck in the demon-hunting business here." Spike said nothing about the chip or about Buffy. There was time to spill that news when he was feeling a little more ready for a fight with his grand-sire. "What are you doin' here? 'cause we're not sharin' the plunder."

Angel looked uncomfortable, as though he couldn't decide whether to just leave or do the friendly thing and answer the question. Now that the crisis was over, he had no desire to be near his old friend or Spike. "Cordy had a vision of a nest of Harins under a school. We thought we should take care of it."

Spike caught the guilty look on the Cheerleader's face out of the corner of his eye, and he knew. Oh, she'd seen the Harins alright, but it was Wesley she'd come to save. Wesley and Spike, anyway, and she hadn't told Angel. Spike wondered if the older vampire would have come, had he known whom he was rescuing. Spike didn't think she was so certain, and that was why she'd kept the details of her vision private.

"We should be on our way," Spike said, laying a gentle hand on Wesley's arm, trying to pull him out of the trance he was in. He could smell the waves of fear and guilt rolling off his friend, and Spike tugged a little harder. "We've done our job."

Wesley moved as in a trance, and Spike kept a tight grip on his ax. He might not be actively hunting humans right now, but if any of them or his ponce of a grand-sire tried to stop them, he wouldn't even think about it. Spike met Cordelia's eyes as they passed, and they exchanged an understanding. Cordy had wanted to protect Wesley out of love for him; Spike would continue to protect him for the same reason.

They passed out of the boiler room under a gauntlet of eyes, and Spike managed to get Wesley up to the motorcycles without trouble. The other man had retreated deep within himself, his face deeply lined. "She knew."

Spike swallowed. He heard the despair in Wesley's voice and understood. Wesley knew that Cordelia had known, and that Angel hadn't. He could see why it might upset Wesley that there would be doubt as to whether Angel would come riding in to the rescue if he'd known the whole story. "Yeah." He paused. "I need a drink. I know a place."

~~~~~

Wesley downed his second shot with a determined air that Spike found impressive. It was obvious that the man had experience at this sort of thing, even though Spike had only seen him drink beer in the past, and then only a couple at a time. What was more impressive was that Wesley didn't seem to have any more trouble downing the shot of bourbon than he would water.

Spike took another sip of his beer and watched. Someone had to be sober enough to get them home in one piece.

When Wesley didn't look any closer to spilling his guts than he had before, Spike nodded to the cocktail waitress to bring him another shot. She brought the bottle a few minutes later, and Spike handed her a couple bills with a big enough tip to leave her smiling. He poured another shot, and sat back in the corner booth, the cheap vinyl crackling under him.

It wasn't the best of places—he much preferred Caritas for a good time. But Caritas involved seeing the Host, who knew Wesley and his past all too well. Right now, Spike knew the best kind of bar was somewhere they could drink in secluded anonymity.

Spike had every intention of getting Wesley drunk enough to spill his guts and lance that festering wound. He didn't care what anyone else thought—Peaches was not worth this kind of angst.

"Want to tell me about it?" he asked after the man slammed his third shot.

"No."

Spike poured another couple fingers and waited. "Might help."

"No." This time the vampire stayed silent. He could sense Wesley's resolve weakening. It had been the same way that summer Buffy was gone. Dawn would be upset over some little thing—not the big things, the big things he could always tell about—and he would get her to talk this way. Just little phrases and a lot of waiting, except he plied the girl with ice cream instead of bourbon.

Spike could be the most patient man in the world when it suited him.

"You know about Connor?"

The question was a surprise, but Spike hid it expertly. "Sure. It was the talk of the town when I got here a couple years ago or so."

Wesley nodded. "Then you know he was Angel and Darla's child?"

Spike shrugged. "That's why it was all over town. That why Angel tried to kill you? Somethin' about the kid?"

"I thought Angel was going to kill him," Wesley said. He had no idea why he was telling the vampire this. Even Nika hadn't gotten the whole story out of him, just enough to draw her own conclusions. At the same time, Spike's eyes were so—tender, if that was an adjective you could use for a cold-blooded killer. He knew exactly what Spike was—he just didn't care quite as much as he should. The vampire restrained himself for unfathomable reasons. That was enough.

Haltingly, he explained. "There was a prophecy that said the father would kill the son. I was sure—I tried interpreting it every way I could, tried getting around it somehow. Angel was acting strangely around Connor. There was no one else I could tell—"

"So you took the kid for his own good," Spike supplied when it looked as though Wesley couldn't go on. "Nothin' wrong with that, mate. You were tryin' to do the right thing."

"The methods I used weren't entirely pure, however," Wesley replied with a bitter smile. "And the loophole had already been found, just not by me. Wolfram and Hart had been spiking Angel's blood with Connor's. Properly translated, the prophecy read, 'the father will devour the son.'"

Spike frowned. "For a vamp, 's the same thing, mate. You couldn't have known."

"That's not what Angel believed."

"So you took the kid? Then what?"

"Then I was tricked, my throat was slit, and Angel's worst enemy took the baby to a hell dimension where he was raised to hate his father." Wesley's tone was dry, revealing none of the emotion that Spike could smell on him.

Spike blinked. "That would be a blow. So let me guess? Angel tries to kill you while you're down an' out, the kid somehow comes back, an' now they're playin' happy families while you're still on the outside."

Wesley looked up from his drink to stare across the table at his friend. "How did you know?"

"I lived in Sunnydale for a few years," Spike said, shrugging. "That's commonplace to what we had. Did you know Buffy's sis is a magical Key, and all memories you have of her are manufactured by a bunch of bloody monks?"

Wesley frowned. "No, I mean, I hadn't realized." He shook his head. "It doesn't matter. What matters is that I betrayed Angel, managed to deliver his son into the hands of the man who hated him the most."

"Yeah, you're scum," Spike agreed cheerfully. At Wesley's shocked look, he laughed. "Bugger me, Wesley, you got to remember who you're talkin' to here. 'm a Master Vampire. 've killed hundreds, thousands. 've done a lot worse than that to any number of different people, an' Angelus was worse yet. You had the best of motives. We didn't."

Wesley shook his head, ready to refute Spike's words, but Spike interrupted, continuing on. "Bloody hell, man! Screw 'em. Screw all of 'em. Angel's a right bastard at the best of times. I know. I'm related to the wanker."

"Spike, you don't understand," Wesley said. "They were—"

"Your family?" Spike asked softly. When the man looked up to meet his eyes, Spike continued. "You think I don't know what it means to lose somethin' like that, yeah? Don't know what I'm talkin' about? Summer after the Slayer died, I stuck around to take care of her kid sis because I made a promise. And I liked Dawn. But that's a different story. I fought demons all summer with a bunch of people who didn't much like me, nor I them. But by the end of those months, I thought we were a team at least, some kind of demon-fightin' unit.

"I babysat Dawn when no one else would. I watched their backs and made sure they didn't get killed. I did all of that, an' then I watched them turn their backs on me when Buffy came back. Suddenly I wasn't good enough anymore. I thought that summer meant somethin', meant they knew I'd changed anyway. They treated me like garbage, an' then the Slayer used me worse than any of them."

Spike took a deep breath, realizing that he'd revealed more than he cared to. "I understand. 've gone from bein' at least a little on the inside, to bein' used whenever it suited their fancy. I might be an evil, undead thing, but that doesn't mean I didn't know what they were doin'."

Wesley swallowed hard. He'd never considered that Spike might actually know how he felt because the vampire had been there in a way. Not that their situations were the same, but he knew. They both knew.

"Thing with bein' black sheep, mate," Spike said with a smile. "You've got to find other black sheep to run with. White ones always want to kick you out."

Wesley gave a bitter little chuckle. "I thought that's what we all were."

"Naw," Spike replied. "Or perhaps they are. But they're white hats who haven't realized they're gray yet, mate. They're afraid of us, because they haven't realized they're just like us yet, yeah? 'f they don't throw stones, they've got to realize they're livin' in a glass house too, an' it could all come crashin' down on 'em."

Wesley smiled wryly, the alcohol and the companionship making him feel much more mellow than he had in a while now. "And Nika? What is she in our world, Spike?"

"Nika?" Spike smiled. "Nika's a saint with true compassion for us sorry bastards. She's the one who's justified to throw stones and doesn't because she sees the heart of a man. Or a vampire. She's bloody salvation."

Wesley hadn't thought about it quite that way before, but he wasn't sure he could disagree. Not that he harbored any illusions that Nika was perfect, but she seemed the sort to always do the right thing because her heart was so tender. She had a sort of innocence that drew one in. Finding her and Spike that night had been salvation of a sort for him. "Quite poetic."

Spike looked discomfited. "Don't think so. Just plain truth. I don't do poetry. Don't even read it."

"Which is why Danika gave you a collection of Romantic poetry for Christmas," Wesley replied knowingly.

The vampire looked up and grinned abruptly, looking boyish. "Yeah. That's right. Use it for a coaster." Spike grew serious. "You know that you're one of the reasons I'm not eating two-legged Happy Meals, right? That's got to count for something."

Wesley tried to imagine life without Spike, without Nika. Tried and couldn't at this point. Even if Angel offered him absolution, Wesley wondered if he would take it if it meant leaving Spike and Nika behind. Spike might have the right attitude at this point. Screw them, indeed. "I think it might count for a lot," he replied, trying to stand and finding himself unsteady on his feet.

Spike was there in a moment to offer a supporting arm. "Let's pour you into a cab, Wesley. Think you might be able to sleep tonight."

~~~~~

Spike let himself in and found Nika reading on the couch. "Hey there."

"Hey, luv. What are you still doing up?" he asked, coming to sit down next to her.

She shrugged. "I was having trouble sleeping so I thought I might read for a while. Did you have any success tonight?"

He raised an eyebrow. "Well, we killed the demons, but not before Angel and his crew showed up. Turns out one of his sidekicks had a vision with Wesley an' me in it, an' they told him about the demons an' not us. In short, Angel didn't know who he was rescuin'."

"Did you need rescuing?" Nika asked, concerned. "Were either of you hurt?"

"M' leg got chewed on a little, but 's not bad. Wesley was more shaken up by Angel than the demons." He watched as Nika got a fond smile on her face. He had a sneaking suspicion that she was developing a crush on the ex-Watcher. All he had to say was it was about time. They were perfect for one another, if only they could see it.

"Sounds like Wesley," Nika commented. "Was he okay?"

"Got him drunk after so we could talk about it," Spike replied. "He'll be alright."

Nika rolled her eyes. "I'll never understand why it takes so much liquor to loosen your tongues."

"We're British and reserved," Spike said cheekily. "Takes a lot of anythin' to loosen our tongues."

She shook her head, ostensibly exasperated with him, but there was a smile hovering on the corners of her mouth. "We should invite Wesley over more."

"He's already here all the time," Spike pointed out.

Nika shrugged. "He's here because he needs to be, not because he thinks we want him to be. It's a completely different thing."

Spike thought about that and finally nodded. Want and need were two entirely different things. "Invite away."

Nika looked thoughtful. "It'll give me an excuse to feed him," she mused. "He's entirely too thin." She gave Spike a measuring look. "Of course, so were you when you started living here."

"Regular sleep and some TLC will do a lot for a bloke," Spike agreed. He reached out and tenderly brushed a piece of hair back from her face. "Gives us both an excuse to look after you too."

"It's much appreciated," Nika said with a smile. She leaned up against him, allowing him to pluck the book of poetry from her fingers. They shared similar tastes, and Spike allowed himself to revel in the familiar words as he spoke them aloud, from memory, listening to the sound of Nika's slow breathing.

He was home.

Chapter 17: December 2005

The festivities had begun to gain steam in Nika’s house. Over the past three years, from the first gloomy Christmas, to the most recent, the holidays had become a rather special time. With no visions to interrupt them, Wesley and Spike could more or less control the kinds of jobs they took. This year, Dawn and Connor were spending as much time at Nika’s house as they were at the Hyperion, which meant things were a little more crowded than usual.

Unlike that first Christmas with just Spike and Nika, both missing loved ones fiercely, there was a large tree in the living room, being decorated with lights and tinsel. Dawn was giggling at Connor, as she’d strewn his hair with the silvery filaments, and he was pretending to be annoyed as he tried to pull it out. Wesley and Spike were trying to maintain a manly distance, although the ex-Watcher frequently stole kisses from their hostess, managing to maneuver her under the mistletoe as often as possible.

Moments like these, Spike recognized the utter hominess of Nika’s little place. Each person who was present belonged there in some indefinable sense, whether they’d been present for months or years. It was Nika’s gift, to make people feel welcomed and valued.

He only wished he didn’t feel like such a fifth wheel.

The doorbell rang just then, and Spike pushed himself up off the couch. “I’ll get it,” he said. No one else responded, too caught up in their respective partners. He sighed. “Right. The soulless vampire might as well not be here,” he mumbled.

When he opened the door, Buffy was standing there, looking nervous. “Hey, Spike.”

“H’lo,” he replied. Spike had talked to Buffy a few times on the phone in the past few weeks, but they had largely backed off. Their argument had scared both of them to a certain extent; neither one wanted to go back to what their relationship had been in the past.

Oddly enough, it had been that night that had touched off the fires of longing in both of them, just as it had been that night that sealed their lips even more completely.

The vampire realized they had been standing there for several beats, and he hastily stepped back from the doorway. “Sorry. Come in,” he invited.

Buffy stepped inside, grateful that while Spike looked surprised to see her, he wasn’t displeased. “Is Dawn here? I stopped by the dorm, but her roommate said she might—”

“Buffy!” Dawn came skidding out of the living room to give her sister a hug. “It’s about time! Come see the tree!” Breathless with delight, Dawn started dragging Buffy into the living room, with Spike ambling behind them.

Whatever their positions had been before the doorbell rang, Wesley and Nika were now sitting decorously on the couch, their entwined hands the only sign of public displays of affection. Connor was sprawled on the floor, having removed the tinsel from his hair and gotten it back on the tree. Dawn, who was almost hyper with the thoughts of the holidays and three weeks off school, made the re-introductions at a furious pace, and pointed out exactly what she had done to help.

“It’s great, Dawn,” Buffy said sincerely. She hadn’t seen her younger sister this excited about Christmas since before their mother had died. Buffy couldn’t help but catch a little of that spirit herself. She turned to look at Spike, and caught him looking at something above her head.

Mistletoe.

She glanced over at Dawn, who was looking very pleased with herself, and the two adults on the couch were looking amused. No help there. Buffy looked back at Spike and waited.

He moved slowly, the limp hardly noticeable tonight. Buffy couldn’t help but notice both the longing and the wariness in his face. Communicating only with their eyes, Spike leaned down and kissed her.

It wasn’t an earth-shattering kiss. In fact, if it had been anybody but Spike, Buffy would have written it off altogether. Except that it was Spike, and the last kiss they had shared had been anything but sweet and soft, and this was all of that. Besides, it was Spike.

The kiss lasted a mere breath, and Spike pulled back to look at Buffy expectantly. He half expected disgust, resignation, annoyance, but found nothing of the sort. Instead, the Slayer looked almost—euphoric. As though they’d had the kiss to end all kisses, and he knew that wasn’t true. Personally, his favorite was the one right after Sweet had left. Not only a great kiss, but he had believed at the time that it had changed things between them. Her kissing him was supposed to mean that she had feelings for him.

She’d disabused him of that notion pretty rapidly.

Now, when Buffy looked up at him, he might as well have been the only person in the room, and she reached up and brushed a stray curl off his forehead. The moment might have stretched out into eternity, until Dawn cleared her throat. “That was disappointing,” she commented acerbically. “You couldn’t have done a more thorough job, Spike? That was a wimpy kiss.”

“Dawn!” Buffy admonished, shooting a quelling look at her sister.

Spike was right behind her, in both meanings of the phrase. “Bit, you’re treadin’ on thin ice.” He frowned at her menacingly. Somehow Dawn had gotten it into her head that all he and Buffy needed was a push in the right direction, and they’d end up living happily ever after. Spike knew better.

“Let’s go out,” Nika said, realizing rapidly that her house wasn’t built to hold six people, especially when there was attempted match-making going on.

Wesley and Spike’s eyes met. “Shall we go to Caritas?” Wesley asked mildly.

Spike raised an eyebrow. They hadn’t gotten a chance to talk about what had happened with Angel, but it seemed as though Wesley was in no great hurry to get back in the fold. The other man had exorcised the fear of meeting Angel though, since he didn’t seem intimidated by the thought of running into the vampire. “Yeah, why not?”

Dawn grinned. “Great! It’s good Buffy’s here, because now everybody has a partner.”

Spike and Buffy looked at each other uncomfortably. “We’re just friends, Dawnie,” Buffy reminded her sister, and herself. She thought she’d played that card convincingly. She didn’t see the others’ knowing looks when Spike put his hand on her back as they walked out the front door, especially when she didn’t bother trying to remove it.

~~~~~

Caritas was as busy as it normally was on a Thursday night. Most of those present probably didn’t have a clue that Christmas was coming up, since it tended to be a human holiday. Both Buffy and Spike were feeling slightly out of place, since Dawn and Connor had their arms wrapped around one another, and Wesley and Nika were holding hands. Buffy didn’t think she’d mind making contact with the vampire—not after that kiss, certainly—but he had both hands shoved in his pockets, and his shoulders were slightly hunched. The line between his brows told her he was thinking pretty hard about something, and she had to wonder if it was her or something else entirely.

Buffy wasn’t quite as self-involved as she’d been to believe he would be thinking of her all the time.

There had been a time when “self-involved” would have defined her, however, and she knew that it wasn’t that long ago, either. Besides having rather badly neglected Dawn, she had completely disregarded Spike’s feelings. She had come back from the dead and had used his unswerving loyalty to make herself feel better. The song he’d sung under Sweet’s influence had reminded her that he had feelings as well, and that had pissed her off. He’d called himself her willing slave, and that was what she wanted. She didn’t want to be reminded that he loved her, that being so close to her and knowing what she was doing would hurt him.

Maybe, in the end, she’d wanted someone else to hurt as badly as she did, and her friends were off limits. Maybe she’d just been too absorbed in her own pain to care about anyone else’s. Maybe the fact that he was supposed to be an evil vampire had made it okay to use him.

In the end, she’d chased him away, and now his world no longer revolved around her. Instead, he, Wesley and Nika had found their own orbits around each other, a complicated dance where no one was the center. The amazing thing was that their world seemed to expand easily to include the others who came into contact with their group.

Buffy wondered if it was big enough to include her as well. She wondered if she and Spike could rebuild the shattered remains of their relationship into something they could both live with.

Lorne swept up to them as soon as he caught sight of the group looking for a table. “Nika, my little lark, tell me you’re singing tonight.”

Nika smiled at him apologetically. “Sorry, Lorne.”

He put a friendly hand on her arm and drew her slightly to the side. “Please, you have to help me out here. You don’t know what I’ve had to put up with. People have been singing the worst of the 90’s and murdering Barbara Streisand for the past two weeks. If I don’t hear something resembling music soon, I’m going to go nuts.”

Nika looked at the green-skinned Host and smiled. “You know I don’t sing karaoke.”

“I have a guitar in back all tuned up with your name on it.” Lorne was close to begging at this point.

“The same arrangement?”

Lorne looked over the group and looked skeptical. “You have a few more in your party than usual, sweetheart.”

“Only three of us can drink alcohol,” Nika pointed out reasonably. “And Spike sings one song.”

“Wait just a bleedin’ minute,” Spike protested, pushing himself up to where Nika and Lorne were standing. “’m not singin’.”

Nika and Lorne ignored him. “If you can get Sweetcheeks to sing, you’re on,” Lorne replied. “But I want at least one from you.”

“You’ll get two,” she replied equably. “I’m in the mood tonight.”

Lorne gave her a piercing look, and then a beatific smile broke out over his green face. “Good for you, sweetie. You deserve a little happiness. Soon as you’re ready, you just let me know and I’ll clear the stage.”

Lorne swept off, and Spike turned Nika to face him. “’m not singin’.”

“We have an arrangement,” Nika coaxed. “We sing, we drink free tonight.”

“I have the dosh to pay for our drinks,” Spike said stubbornly. “An’ I don’t sing karaoke.”

Nika shrugged. “You won’t be singing karaoke. I play, you sing.”

Wesley threw himself into the fray. “Angel sang.”

“’m not Peaches,” Spike replied rather stiffly.

“Badly,” Wesley added, seeming not to notice Spike’s response.

Dawn took her turn. “Oh, come on, Spike. It’s not like you don’t have a good voice.”

Spike looked at the faces surrounding him, shrugging in defeat. Truth be told, he knew he’d probably have to sing at some point, but he’d wanted to put it off as long as possible. “I don’t have a bloody destiny or a soul,” he finally grumbled. “An’ I don’t soddin’ care if ‘m on the right path or not, so Mr. Green Jeans can just keep his bloody readin’ to himself. Plus, it wouldn’t hurt if someone could mention how good I sound to Peaches.”

Dawn grinned. “I think I could arrange to let something drop the next time I see Angel.”

Spike heaved a long-suffering sigh. “Fine. So what are we singin’, Nika-luv?”

As Spike and Nika headed off towards Lorne and the stage, the others went to get a table. Buffy found herself in the unusual position of being alone with Wesley, since Connor and Dawn had moved off towards a smaller table nearby for some alone-time. “So, uh, how have you been?” she asked awkwardly.

“Quite well, actually,” he replied, a touch of surprise in his voice, as though he couldn’t quite believe it himself. “And yourself?”

“Good,” Buffy said, feeling a bit surprised herself. “I’ve been good.”

There was a pause that wasn’t altogether comfortable. “I hear from Spike that you two make quite a team,” Buffy offered. “Sounds like we’ve both come a long way.”

“Indeed,” Wesley replied, his lips twisting up into a pained smile. “I hope you can forgive me for being an insufferable twit.”

Buffy grinned at him. “If you can forgive me for being impatient and pretty rude at times.”

“I think I could manage that.”

~~~~~

“So what are we doin’?” Spike asked, resigned to singing in front of a crowd and hoping that Nika would be able to play something he knew that wasn’t so much shite.

“‘When A Man Loves a Woman?’” Nika suggested slyly. At Spike’s horrified look, she modified her response. “Just kidding, cariad. What about ‘Behind Blue Eyes?’”

Spike gave her a disgruntled look. “Very funny.”

She shrugged. “I know it, and I figured you did too. I know you listen to the Who.”

He grunted and finally shrugged. “Fine. Let’s get this over with.”

Lorne had already brought out the guitar, and Nika ran her fingers over the strings, checking to make sure it was tuned. “This is a nice instrument,” she commented.

Spike raised an eyebrow. “When did you learn how to play, luv? Didn’t know you could.”

“Girl’s got to have some secrets,” Nika replied. “You ready?”

“Yeah.” Spike followed her up on stage, feeling oddly nervous. He didn’t like baring his soul for anyone—metaphorically speaking, anyway. Spike didn’t mind singing in the car with the radio cranked up when he had the DeSoto. He didn’t mind singing in the shower, or to his CD’s when he plugged something hard and heavy in. Sweet’s spell and Lorne’s unique talent, however, ensured that he would be literally singing his heart out. Look how well that had ended the last time.

At least he’d be singing an old classic this time, rather than the truth—and he could tell the Host to get stuffed if he tried pulling any of that destiny crap on him. “I’ll follow your lead,” she said softly, striking the beginning chords. Spike took a deep breath and reminded himself that he could get drunk for free after this if he cared to. That had to be worth something.

Across the room, from his place on stage, he caught Buffy’s eye, and started to sing.

~~~~~

Spike’s voice floated across the room, the flavor of it dark and smoky, and Buffy smiled as she recognized the tune. It was perfectly appropriate, really.

“No one knows what it’s like

to be the bad man,

to be the sad man,

behind blue eyes.

No one knows what it’s like,

to be hated,

to be fated,

to telling only lies.

But my dreams they aren’t as empty,

as my conscience seems to be.

I spend hours only lonely.

My love is vengeance, that’s never free.”

“He does have a good voice,” Wesley commented. “Had you heard him before?”

Buffy nodded. The sight of Spike on stage, beginning to lose himself in the music, his rough voice—sent a bolt of desire straight below the belt. It was getting ridiculous, how much she wanted him. What made it more ridiculous were the “don’t touch” vibes that were zinging back and forth between the two of them. Spike had made it pretty obvious that he wasn’t ready for anything but friendship.

Buffy forced herself to look away and answer Wesley’s question. “There was this demon that Xander summoned. It cast a spell, made you sing all your deepest thoughts and feelings. Kinda creepy.”

Wesley shuddered, not liking the idea of being forced to sing, much less forced to sing of his feelings. Right now it might not be so bad, but it wasn’t that long ago and he would have been singing a dirge. “That doesn’t sound—pleasant.”

“It wasn’t,” Buffy replied briefly, and then added thoughtfully. “Spike saved my life.”

“He has a habit of doing that,” Wesley agreed.

Buffy caught her bottom lip between her teeth. “Can I ask you a question?”

Wesley looked at her with some surprise, the second verse of the song floating in the background. The crowd was mostly quiet at this point, listening to Spike’s singing and the melancholy chords of Nika’s guitar. “Of course, though I won’t promise to answer.”

“How come you and Spike are such good friends? Last I knew, you were pretty suspicious of Angel,” she said. “And—Spike doesn’t have a soul, or the chip anymore.”

Wesley gave her a knowing look. “You’re wondering why I can accept him when your friends find it so difficult.” He considered the question. “Part of it is that I had worked with Angel for a while and had at least accepted that certain vampires could change.” Wesley shrugged. “Perhaps it also has something to do with the fact that when I first met him, Spike was living with Nika and was obviously doing nothing that could be considered evil. Your friends had a different first impression, I believe.”

Buffy nodded wryly. “Yeah, something like that. But he changed. He stayed with Dawn the summer I was—away.” She looked into Wesley’s blue eyes, not having a clue why she was confessing her thoughts to him rather than one of her friends. Maybe it was because he still wore the mantle of Watcher in her mind, and now he had the experience and the weary look to go along with it. “I’m just wondering why you can accept the changes he’s made and my friends can’t.”

“And what you’re going to do when they return and demand your loyalty to them over Spike?” Wesley asked quietly. Despite his disastrous sojourn in Sunnydale, he had a decent handle on the group dynamics of Buffy and her Scoobies. It was true that those on the outside had a clearer picture of such things than those in the know.

Wesley finally shook his head. “Only you know the answer to that question, Buffy. I will tell you this, however. Spike has made changes that should have been impossible, but they are real. He might be a vampire, but he has a better grasp on the meaning of loyalty and love than most humans I know. I have been honored to be his friend.” He turned his piercing gaze to her. “I believe you have a chance to make things right between the two of you, or to break the connection completely. I hope for his sake that you choose the first.”

Buffy swallowed. “It’s not just Spike I’m afraid of hurting, Wesley,” she admitted. “It’s me.”

“The Slayer is asked to sacrifice everything for her calling,” Wesley replied. “But there comes a time, as I have learned, when your own salvation becomes most important. If you fall into the darkness, how can you save anyone else?” He smiled gently. “And it’s not just yourself you must think about, as I understand it. You must do what’s best for your child, as well.”

Buffy blushed slightly. “I asked Spike to look after my baby if something happens to me. You and Nika being there was at least part of my decision.”

Wesley got a pleased expression on his face that held no little pain. “You know about—”

“Connor?” Buffy asked. “I got the full story. Willow tried to end the world though, and we forgave her. I tried to kill my friends. Xander’s pulled more than a couple of stupid stunts. Let’s not even mention Angel.” She smiled at him. “I’ve heard a lot more from Dawn about what a stand-up guy you are, and that’s good enough for me.”

The song ended in the background, and Spike jumped off the stage to the applause of those around him. He strode over to their table, a swagger in his step. “Not bad, eh, mate?” he asked Wesley. “When are you goin’ to get up there?”

“The day after never,” Wesley replied firmly. “I’ve sung, and I don’t intend to do so again. Besides, Lorne wanted to hear someone who could actually carry a tune. I don’t qualify.”

Spike shrugged, in rare good humor after his performance and the applause. “Suit yourself. What ‘bout you, Slayer?”

Buffy shook her head. “Nope. No way. I’d have to be way too drunk to get up there, and that can’t happen for another six months or so. In fact, let me just say now that it’s not ever gonna happen.”

Nika was up on stage re-tuning the guitar. One of the waiters adjusted the microphone so it was at her level where she sat on the stool. “A little tavern song for you,” she said, a sly grin on her face. At the first chords, Spike and Wesley’s eyes widened, and Lorne’s jaw dropped. He’d come over to sit next to Wesley, and he blurted out, “She’s going to sing that song? Nika’s never done that before.”

“Done what?” Buffy asked, perplexed. “What’s she singing?”

“A bawdy song,” Spike explained as she started singing. It only took one verse for Buffy to realize exactly what had the guys so shocked. The Slayer started looking around for Dawn, because she wasn’t sure her little sister should be listening.

Not that the lyrics were terribly explicit, but the song was full of all sorts of sexual innuendo. By the second stanza, Wesley was a deep shade of red, though he had a rather pleased grin on his face. In case anyone had any doubt as to who Nika was singing about, she looked up and sent a saucy wink in his direction. Spike’s grin just kept growing, and even Lorne was laughing in places.

The song was about a young woman extolling her lover’s virtues, much as a man might. But what she appreciated had very little to do about the color of his eyes or hair. And it was enthusiastic indeed, which explained both Wesley’s blush and his pleased grin.

By the end of the song, Nika had the whole place cracking up, and there were a number of folks, demon and human, calling for an encore when she finished. She smiled enigmatically, not bothering to let anyone know that she’d already promised Lorne one more. “I suppose I can do another, as long as I’m not hogging the stage.” There were whistles and cries that she could go on hogging the stage all night if she liked.

Next to Wesley, Lorne smiled. “I haven’t seen her this happy in years. I’ve got to hand it to you, Wes, you’ve been better than chocolate for that girl.”

Wesley’s tone was tender as he replied, “No better than she’s been for me.”

Lorne patted him on the shoulder. “I don’t think you get it, Cupcake. Even when she was in here with her husband, those last couple months were no picnic for either one of them. Nika wanted a baby, and Danny couldn’t give one to her, so she got down and he started staying away. It’s probably one of the reasons he was killed.”

“Did you—” Wesley began.

Lorne shook his head. “They had stopped singing long before I could let them know they were on the wrong path, my friend. What I can tell you is that you both deserve a happy ending. Keep up what you’re doing, and you might just be one of the few who gets one.”

Up on the stage, Nika was feeling out her fingerings for the next song. “One more then,” she agreed. “This one is for the two people who taught me what it meant to live again. And for the man who made me want to sing.”

The audience grew quiet as the faintly melancholy chords started up. The words and melody were reminiscent of a folksong, and Buffy could feel Spike go still beside her as Nika’s clear voice rang out. She didn’t blame him for being entranced; she felt the magic too.

“I thought I’d go up Poughkeepsie,

Look out o’er the Hudson,

And I’d throw my body down on the river.

And I’d know no more sorrow,

I’d fly like the sparrow,

And I’d ride on the backs of the angels tonight.

I’d take to the sky with all of my might.

No more drowning in my sorrow,

No more drowning in my fright,

I’d just ride on the backs of the angels tonight.

“There are those who know sorrow

And those who must borrow

And those whose lot in life is sweet.

Well I’m drunk on self-pity,

Scorned all that’s been given me,

I would drink from a bottle labeled sure defeat.

I’d ride on the backs of the angels tonight.

I’d take to the sky with all of my might.

No more drowning in my sorrow,

No more drowning in my fright,

I’d just ride on the backs of the angels tonight.

“Then the skies, they fell open,

And my eyes were opened

To a world of hope falling at my feet.

Now I’ve no more or less than anyone else has

What I have is a gift of life I can’t repeat.

So I go up Poughkeepsie,

Look out o’er the Hudson

And I cast my worries to the sky.

Now I still know sorrow,

But I can fly like the sparrow

‘Cause I ride on the backs of angels tonight.

I ride on the backs of the angels tonight.

I take to the sky with all their might.

No more drowning in my sorrow,

No more drowning in my fright,

I’ll just ride on the backs of the angels each night.”

Buffy was trying to hold back tears at the end of the song. How many times had she wanted to end it all? She’d resented coming back from the dead, but she’d been offered another chance. Maybe it was an opportunity she hadn’t wanted, but it was one she’d learned to accept. Now she had another opportunity with Spike—he was part of her “world of hope,” and she was suddenly ready to fight the whole damn world to keep it.

Her hand sought his under the table, and when she grasped it, Spike looked over at her in surprise. With a feeling of awe, he read the emotions in her eyes, and he reached over to wipe a stray tear off her cheek. “No more drowning, Buffy?”

“No,” she whispered. “Not anymore. Not with you there.”

Spike suddenly smiled brightly. “Never thought I’d be glad to be called an angel.”

Buffy laughed and leaned into his shoulder. “I never thought I’d call you one.”

~~~~~

Dawn and Connor headed back to the Hyperion from Caritas, but Buffy gave Spike a lift home. Nika and Wesley had gone off together soon after she’d finished her last song, saying something about taking a ride. The Slayer didn’t blame the other woman; riding on the back of a motorcycle with a guy like Wesley Wyndam-Pryce would have appealed to her too if she hadn’t had her eye on a certain vampire.

She pulled up in front of the house, and they both sat quietly for a few minutes, neither willing for the evening to come to an end. “How long are you goin’ to be in town for, luv?” Spike finally asked. He needed to break the silence before he gave into the little voice in his head that was telling him to shag Buffy silly in the back seat. Been there, done that—he wasn’t going down that road again. Despite the Slayer’s warmth towards him, he was still afraid that she would end up changing her mind.

“Just a couple of days,” Buffy said, a note of regret in her voice. “Xander should be getting back into town on Sunday, and Giles and Willow will be back the day after.”

“That’s good,” he said, trying not to choke too hard on the words. Buffy’s friends would be around a lot more after this, which he couldn’t help but think meant nothing good for him. With their constant presence in her life, Buffy wouldn’t be quite so pleased to have him around. She wouldn’t need him for anything any more.

She sighed. Buffy wished that her friends being back was good, but she’d gotten used to their absence, used to being able to make her decisions without worrying about what they would think. “Yeah.” She glanced over at Spike and saw in the light from the streetlamp that he didn’t look happy. “I wish I could stay in L.A. for Christmas,” she confessed.

Spike looked surprised, then pleased. “Wish you could too, pet. Nika puts out quite a spread, an’ her grandmother’s comin’ into town. From what I’ve heard, she’s a decent sort.”

“Why don’t you come to Sunnydale for New Year’s?” Buffy asked impulsively.

Spike shook his head. “Not so sure that’s such a good idea. Your friends—”

“Will deal,” Buffy said firmly. “You’re my friend too, Spike, if for no other reason than your coming up to sign those papers with me.”

“Lots more reasons than that,” he murmured. He shook his head. “Dunno, Buffy. You shouldn’t have to be fightin’ with your friends over the holidays. Maybe you could get away, come back down to L.A. for a few days.”

“And I will,” she replied. “But I’d like you to come up.”

Spike faced her, noting the determination in her gaze. “What are you tryin’ to prove?”

“That whatever happens between us, it’s going to be different this time.” Buffy set her chin, and Spike recognized her “don’t say no to me” face. “I don’t know what you want, Spike. Heck, I don’t even know what I want. But I do know I don’t want to lose track of you again.”

He smiled slightly. “So I’d be a welcome guest, then?”

“You’ll always be welcome in my house.”

It was the truth in her eyes that decided him.” Right then. You just let me know when and where, Slayer, and I’ll be there.”

It was more than an agreement. It was a promise.

Chapter 18: December 2005

"Are you sure I shouldn't wait for you outside?" Wesley asked. "I could pull the car around. It would make it easier to load the luggage."

Nika smiled wryly. "Then what manly man would we have to carry the luggage?" she asked. "Wesley, nain is going to love you."

Wesley wasn't nearly so certain. "Danika, I've never met her before, and she's your only family."

Nika shook her head, threading her hand through his elbow and looking up at him. "Cariad, she's going to love you because you make me happy. And you and Spike are also my family."

At the pain that swept across his face, Nika gave his arm a little shake. "No. None of that. I love you. Nothing will ever change that. It's Christmas. Be happy."

A reluctant smile crept across his face. "It's a bit hard to be gloomy around you."

"So?" Nika grinned at him, mischief in her eyes. "I'm happy. With you. It's a win-win scenario for both of us."

Wesley looked hesitant, and then asked, "Do you want me to stay at my apartment this Christmas Eve? I wasn't sure where—"

"Nain is taking Spike's bedroom, Spike is sleeping on the fold-out bed, and you will be sleeping with me," she replied firmly.

Wesley's eyes widened. They hadn't quite consummated their relationship yet, though they'd come as close as two people could and retain most of their clothing. While they hadn't discussed it, Wesley hadn't any desire to rush things. In fact, he was rather enjoying the suspense. It was like waiting until Christmas morning to unwrap your presents. "Nika, your grandmother—"

Nika's grin was nothing short of smug. "Trust me,nain isn't the old prune you might think. Besides, us sleeping together means we're working on making babies, and that will make her happy." She caught the slightly paranoid look on Wesley's face and sighed. "Not that we're trying right now, Wesley."

He shook his head. Now wasn't the time to discuss their future. The flight would be arriving any minute now. Of course, he wasn't sure when they'd be alone again. "Danika—"

When he stopped, she leaned into him. "Tell me, Wesley. You know what I want; I've made it clear enough. But you haven't told me anything about what you want yet."

"I want to make you happy," he replied honestly. Wesley reached out to touch her cheek. "We haven't talked, though, and I'm not sure I can give you what you want."

"Why?" she asked. The airport was bustling all around them, the sights and sounds of the holiday rush present everywhere. It might have well just been the two of them in their own little world, even though they were both unaware of the picture they made. The tall, thin man with his worn face, the willowy woman looking up—more than one traveler passed them with a curious gaze, wondering what it was that had lined their faces so. "Wesley, if this is about your father, or your fear of becoming a father, we can talk about it. If you don't want—"

"No, I do," he insisted quickly. "But—now isn't the time to talk about this." Wesley smiled softly. "I'd like to have you to myself for a while, though."

Nika returned his smile. "That's good, because I want you to myself as well." She pulled his head down for a kiss.

Nika rather liked Wesley's kisses. He knew how to make them last. In fact, just recently they had spent almost an entire evening simply making out—something she didn't think either one of them had done since they were teenagers. She could still remember those days when she and Danny did nothing but kiss for fear of her nain's wrath, and the tentative explorations that accompanied those hours.

Her hands and Wesley's were more experienced than in those early days, their touches more lingering. It was as though they both understood that there would only be one first time between the two of them, and they wanted to make it last. They were building a slow foundation. Nika had no doubt that when the passion finally overcame them, it would be spectacular.

She was definitely looking forward to it.

"Danika!" The voice startled her out of Wesley's embrace, and she looked through the crowded airport to see her nain striding determinedly forward. For a small woman, she had an unmistakable presence that sent people scurrying out of her way. When she spoke, it was in Welsh, and Nika found herself suddenly homesick.

The older woman pulled her into a warm embrace, speaking quickly the whole time. "You look good—splendid." She glanced past Nika's shoulder at Wesley, who was standing there awkwardly. "I would think he might have something to do with that. He's a fine one. If I were twenty years younger, I'd be giving you a run for your money, my girl."

Nika laughed, remembering how much fun her grandmother could be. Pulling back, she said in English, "Nain, this is Wesley Wyndam-Pryce. Wesley, this is Enid Rhys."

"It's a pleasure to meet you," Wesley said in flawless Welsh, holding out his hand. Enid bypassed the hand and pulled him in for a hug. Nika could see the astonishment on his face.

Enid drew back to get a better look at him, and she nodded in satisfaction. He was tall, and whipcord thin, but with a quiet strength that was obvious in his eyes and the set of his mouth. When her granddaughter had first mentioned him, she had suspected something between them, and had wondered who it was that had brought the hint of joy back into Nika's letters. "So it's an Englishman who can speak Welsh, is it?" she asked, a twinkle in her eye. "That's a rare one."

Wesley wasn't sure how to reply to that, but Nika rescued him. "Nain, don't tease the man. He's nervous enough about meeting you as it is."

Enid smiled. "Forgive me. I won't tease. But where is this Spike you've told me so much about?"

"We weren't sure we could get a parking space in the covered garage," Nika explained. "He should be home when we get there."

Enid nodded. "Da. I'm looking forward to meeting this vampire." She took the arm that Wesley gallantly held out and gave him an approving look. "I'm sure it shall prove an interesting trip."

~~~~~

Wesley wasn't quite sure what to make of Enid. He liked her, of course. After only a short time in her company it became obvious why Danika had turned out the way she had, though he couldn't have said which one reminded him more of the other.

It wasn't so much who she was, as what she represented. If the truth were to be told, Wesley was never quite sure what to make of authority figures, especially of parents or grandparents. While he thought of his mother with fondness, she had always been something of a phantom on the edges of his world—ineffectual, and not attached to anything real in his life. He only remembered one grandmother, and that was from his distant childhood, before he'd been old enough for his father to take an interest in him.

Fred's parents were nice; he remembered that much. They were like the parents one saw on those sitcoms, the kind he'd always wished for and never had. Enid, despite her rather unconventional worldview, struck him as the kind of grandmother anyone might want. She started fussing as soon as she walked through the front door of the house, informing Nika that she was planning on cooking dinner, and not taking no for an answer. "I haven't been able to cook for company in ages," she said. "And that lad of yours could use some feeding."

"I've tried," Nika responded good-naturedly. "He just won't keep on any weight."

Wesley wondered if he should be insulted, but decided to let it go. It wasn't as if they meant it as a slight, and Nika was right. She'd been trying to get him to gain a few pounds for months, and he still hadn't put on any weight. He supposed you could accredit the hazards of demon-fighting; he burned off more calories than he consumed most days.

"Nika's grandmum get here alright?" Spike asked, coming out of the bathroom. Wesley could smell the fumes of cleaning fluid, and smiled. He didn't think he'd ever quite get used to seeing Spike so completely domesticated, even up to offering his room and giving it a good cleaning. He saw Spike's fingers twitch, and he knew the vampire was craving a cigarette. With a smile, Wesley realized the vampire was as nervous as he'd been about meeting the older woman.

"She arrived on time." Wesley stowed the luggage in the bedroom. "You coming upstairs?"

Spike hesitated, running his hand through already disheveled hair. "'m never this nervous," he muttered.

"It's Nika's grandmother," Wesley said, as though that explained everything. "You might as well get it over with, you know. It's not like you can avoid her for the duration of her stay."

Spike shrugged his agreement and preceded Wesley up the stairs. From behind, the ex-Watcher took a moment to notice that Spike was dressed in trousers and a button-down shirt, something a little more formal than his usual clothing. He bit back a comment as he remembered his own struggle trying to figure out what to wear.

Wesley could both hear and feel the moment's stillness as Spike entered the kitchen. He shut the door gently behind him and then watched the byplay between Enid and Spike. The older woman was regarding him with a steady gaze that would have felled a weaker creature than the vampire. "I hear you saved Nika's life."

Spike shrugged, shuffling his feet a bit shyly. It was odd, but the vampire seemed so human in that moment. He was—quite suddenly—a diffident young man meeting a close friend's relative. And not at all sure of his welcome. "Not as such," he said when it seemed a response was required. "No more'n she's done for me."

The vampire seemed to dredge up his manners from somewhere, and he held out his hand for her to shake. Enid looked at him for a moment, and then smiled, pulling the vampire into a hug much as she'd done to Wesley. "You think Danika hasn't told me the whole story, William?" she asked. "It wasn't quite the wake-up call I would have wanted for her, but it did the trick."

After that, the tension completely dissolved. In fact, after an excellent dinner, Spike went out to the living room with Enid. They were sharing a bottle of good scotch with a great deal of camaraderie, and Wesley peeked out there to see how they were getting on. Spike was entertaining the older woman with some cock-and-bull story of rollicking adventure, and had obviously turned the charm on full blast.

Wesley shook his head, half in admiration, half in exasperation. Spike and the ladies. "What are you thinking of?" Nika asked, coming up behind him and wrapping her arms around his waist.

"Just watching Spike and his way with the ladies," Wesley replied, feeling her shake against him as she chuckled.

"He'd better watch out. Nain's got a bit of a reputation with the men herself. When I was 16, there were at least three gentlemen out to catch her heart," Nika said.

"And did any of them manage?" Wesley asked.

"No, but I learned a bit about flirtation from her." He could feel her hesitate, the hitch in her breath, before she asked her question. "Wesley, you're not upset with me, are you?"

He turned in her embrace to face her. "No, sweetheart. What gave you that idea?"

"I just—" When she paused again, Wesley took her hand and drew her back into the kitchen, well away from the others. "I've just assumed that you wanted the same things I did, cariad. I don't want to be selfish, or force you to do something you don't want."

There was a spark of uncertainty in her eyes, something he'd never expected of her. Nika seemed to carry such a strength, such a dignity, that he had forgotten she had fears and weaknesses just as any other woman had. "I told you, darling. I want you to be happy."

"If you don't want children—" she began. When Wesley looked as though he were about to interrupt, she continued. "I know it's too early to even be talking about this, Wesley. I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry," he commanded gently, tracing the line of her jaw with his hand. He had known this woman for two years now, almost three, and he knew there was nothing temporary about their relationship. "You are not the kind of woman a man engages lightly, Danika. I did know what I was getting into."

"But—"

"I want you to be happy," he said softly. "And I know how much you desire children. I'm not sure why you think I would make any kind of father, but I'm willing to try for your sake."

Nika shook her head. "I want you to try for yours, cariad annwyl." She sighed. "If I'm not the kind of woman a man engages lightly, then what kind of woman am I?"

"The kind he turns his whole world upside down for, and is grateful for the honor." Wesley's eyes—tonight a darker blue than usual—told her he spoke the truth. She felt tears sting her eyes. She didn't want him to change; Nika happened to like Wesley just the way he was. But still...

"I think that's the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me," she replied, laying her head down on his chest. "And I think you will make a wonderful father. I just—can we talk about when, sometime? It's—you know..."

"You waited until you felt as though you'd never have the opportunity," Wesley said quietly. He understood people better than he let on at times. He knew that her husband's insistence on waiting to have a child had hurt her somehow, especially after his death, when she thought the chance lost to her. To ask her to wait too long again would be unfair, especially as both of them were no longer quite so young. "A year? Can you give me a year?"

She pulled away to look in his face. "You mean it? You'd want—"

"We could get married in a year," he suggested recklessly. After all, in for a penny, in for a pound. "Then we could start trying." Wesley realized he'd just proposed marriage, and it wasn't nearly as romantic as he would have liked. And it was fast. Too fast? He searched her face for the answer.

The wheels were turning in Nika's head, and she spoke as though she'd read his mind. "We could get married next Christmas time. We'd have been together for a year, so it wouldn't be that fast. Though," she added, "we've known each other for quite a while, so it's not like we're strangers."

"No," Wesley agreed. "Not strangers. Do we tell anyone?"

"Tell anyone what?" Spike asked from the doorway, Enid close behind him. The two of them had identical expressions of intense curiosity, and Wesley despaired of keeping their plans a secret, even if he'd wanted to.

He and Nika exchanged looks. "We were talking about getting married next winter," Nika finally said matter-of-factly.

"It was a bit spur of the moment," Wesley admitted.

Enid gave a satisfied little nod. "Yes, well, the truth will come out at those times." She grabbed Wesley's arm and pulled him out into the living room. "This calls for more Scotch," she stated. "And you're going to tell me all about yourself."

Spike looked at Nika with a little smirk on his lips. "Weddin' bells? Already?"

"It's not like we don't know what we're doing," she said, feeling slightly irritated with that look on his face, and it was rare that she got angry with Spike.

"'course you know what you're doin'." He moved closer and pulled her into a hug. Whatever sexual tension there had been in their relationship had long dissolved under the weight of a relationship almost fraternal in nature. "Happy for you, Nika-luv. I am."

"Now if you and Buffy could just pull your shit together, everyone would be happy," she teased, feeling him tense then relax in a resigned chuckle.

"Prob'ly not gonna happen, pet," he replied. "Buffy an' I, we've got years of history between us, an' most of it isn't good. Don't reckon we'll ever get it sorted."

Nika looked up at him. "That wasn't the girl I saw here a few days ago, Spike. Speaking as a woman, she wasn't looking at you as an old friend."

Spike shook his head. "Nothin' good lies down that road."

"That's what I might have said about Wesley and me," Nika reminded him. "We take scary chances sometimes, Spike. Sometimes the risks are so bad we think the fear might crush us. But what if the pay-off is worth it?"

Longing flashed across Spike's face, but in the next instant he looked resolute again. "That's as it might be, but 'm not leavin' L.A.," he insisted. "My family is here."

"Then I hope for both your sakes that Buffy realizes her family is here too," Nika said softly. Spike shook his head and dropped a kiss on her forehead before following her out into the living room. He wasn't sure he could afford that kind of hope. It seemed he'd gone bankrupt a long time ago.

~~~~~

Buffy couldn't help but feel slightly nervous while waiting for Giles and Willow's flight to come in. It wasn't so much seeing them again for the first time since discovering her pregnancy. It had everything to do with the fact that Xander had gotten back into town the previous day, and Buffy had wanted to wait on everyone's arrival to reveal Spike's re-entry into her life. If she was going to be forced to defend her actions, she only wanted to do it once.

Maybe it wouldn't be that bad. There was always the possibility that her friends would say, "Buffy, we trust you to make the right choices. You should do what makes you happy."

Yeah, right.

She might be able to believe it if it weren't for her friends' reactions to her pregnancy. The questions, the implications, the silences...it all added up to the idea that they weren't at all surprised that Buffy had once again screwed up her life by her choice of boyfriends.

Buffy laughed. And if she'd kept Spike around, she wouldn't have had to worry about getting pregnant in the first place.

With that thought, she put one hand protectively over her abdomen. She might not have wanted to have a child, but she wanted this child. It was hers. And if one more person suggested she'd be better off without the baby, Buffy wouldn't be responsible for the consequences.

Catching sight of her Watcher and the witch through the holiday crowds, Buffy stood on tiptoe and waved. Dawn had offered to come with her, and Buffy probably could have used her sister's height, but this was going to be a private meeting, with just the Scooby core. Joy.

Xander came to stand next to her. He'd gone off to use the facilities, and came back just in time to catch sight of the travelers. "Willow!" he called, rushing over and catching her up in a bear hug. "Willow! You're back!"

"Looks like," she agreed with a goofy grin. Buffy thought the red-head looked more stable, more centered than she had before. There was an air of maturity around her, and Buffy wondered what her friend had been through to bring that about. From personal experience, she figured it was probably painful.

"Buffy, you look well," Giles said, pulling her into a hug of his own. Buffy returned the hug gratefully, trying to quell the feeling of being a prodigal daughter, the one who gets knocked up by a major loser and then dumped.

She managed a smile. "Thanks. I'm good." She turned to hug Willow as Xander and Giles shook hands.

"We'll talk later," Willow whispered in her ear before pulling away. Buffy wondered how much Willow knew, how much she was aware of.

"So, are you guys hungry?" Buffy asked cheerfully. "Because I thought we might go out for lunch, if that's okay."

~~~~~

It was just like old times for a while. They talked about what was going on in their lives, about shared memories and old friends, new acquaintances and events. Buffy was well aware that she wasn't contributing nearly as much as she usually did to the conversation.

"So, Buffy," Giles began, turning to look at her. "What's been going on?"

Buffy took a deep breath. She'd promised. She'd promised Spike that things wouldn't change between them just because the gang was back in town. She'd told Dawn the same thing. They'd had a great sister-talk about all kinds of things: sex, love, and the difference between the two, the nature of vampires and why Spike was different, Connor and his better qualities. What came out of their conversation was a renewed understanding of each other and a strengthened determination not to let their bond fray again.

What had also come out of that time together was the truth of what had happened in Buffy and Spike's relationship—if you could call it that—and as much of the truth as Buffy herself knew about her present feelings for the vampire. Dawn had also confessed that she'd hated her sister for a long while after Spike had left. "He was my friend," Dawn said simply. "Him leaving was at least part of the reason I made that wish—you know, the birthday party that wouldn't end."

In the end, Dawn had pledged her unequivocal support and reminded Buffy of her own strength. "You're the Slayer, Buffy. They might not have liked it, but everybody dealt with you and Angel. They dealt with Riley and him being in the Initiative. In my mind, at least, Spike's got a better grip on morality now than either of them ever did."

Really, it didn't matter about Riley or Angel. Or anyone else, when you got right down to it. This was about—and between—her and Spike. Buffy had sworn to herself that this time she was going to ride out their relationship to the bitter end, instead of chasing Spike away out of fear.

Of course, she was hoping the end would be anything but bitter.

"Not much," she replied, deliberately keeping things light for as long as possible. "Just the usual. Work, fight demons, sleep, more work."

"And how is that going for you?" Xander asked, trying to make a joke out of the matter. "Now that you're eating for two."

Several eyebrows went up around the table at Xander's rather tasteless comment. "I'm fine. I mean, there's a little bit of morning sickness, but other than that it's good. I signed the papers the other day, so Peter is well and truly out of the picture."

"It's probably for the best, Buffy," Willow said. "He was a jerk, and this way you'll be able to make your own decisions and choices about the baby without having to worry about getting his input. I mean, it could be better, if you want to look at it that way. You know, looking at the brighter side of things."

Buffy smiled, thankful for Willow's encouragement, but she was wondering just how supportive Willow was going to be when she revealed who was coming for New Year's. "Thanks, Will. I think it was the right thing to do."

Giles put his anger at Buffy's ex-boyfriend aside, and turned to look at Buffy with concern. "I think I have some good news that might help out your future situation, Buffy."

"That's good," Buffy replied, courage faltering. She knew if she didn't get this out soon, there would be no big reveal. Or, there would, but it would be a couple weeks away at New Year's. She had a feeling that it wouldn't go over well. "There's actually something else."

"Something else?" Xander asked, jokingly. "Wait, don't tell me. Peter was actually a demon, and now you're having quadruplets"

Buffy smiled tightly, almost wishing that were it. Then, she could blame everything on Peter. "It's about Spike. I found out he's in L.A."

"He got the chip out, didn't he?" Xander asked, horror written all over his expressive face. "Did Angel let you know? Is he going to come after you now?"

No one knew the truth. Buffy hadn't seen the need to fill them in on the details after Spike had left town, and as time passed, there wasn't much point. Spike was gone, and everybody except for Dawn either was happy or relieved or indifferent. Giles knew they'd slept together, since she'd had the "spill all the beans" talk with him when he'd come to help stop Willow from ending the world. Other than that, no one else had a clue.

"Are you guys dating?" Willow asked calmly, as though the thought didn't bother her a bit.

Buffy's eyes widened. "Huh? No! I mean, no, we're not. Though he did come down to help me with Peter, and I had dinner with him. He's happy in L.A." Hoping it would placate Giles, she added, "Spike is working with Wesley now. They're, like, demon-fighting partners or something like that."

"Spike and Wesley?" Giles asked, sounding incredulous. "I thought Wesley was working with Angel."

Buffy was surprised that communications had broken down so completely between L.A. and London. "He was working with Angel," Buffy said. "They had a falling out, and now he's working with Spike. Spike and Wesley are actually getting paid to do the same kinds of things I do for free."

"But Spike doesn't have the chip out?" Xander asked. "He's got a soul now, or something, right?"

"Why would he have a soul, Xander?" Buffy replied, puzzled.

Xander looked at her as though she'd just said something really stupid. "Because he's fighting demons."

"Spike is fighting demons because he likes to," Buffy replied. "Working with Wesley is the excuse he uses. And the chip is gone."

There was a long silence. "Forgive me, Buffy," Giles said stiffly, not sounding sorry at all, "but how do you know that Spike isn't hunting again? You haven't seen him for quite some time. He might be lulling you into a false sense of complacency—"

"Before he kills me?" Buffy asked with a raised eyebrow. Up to this point, no one had raised any objections that she hadn't expected. "First of all, Spike got the chip out three years ago, right after he left, and he's been corresponding with Dawn the entire time. Second, Spike wasn't looking for me, I asked Dawn how to find him. Third, he's living in the basement of a house with a human as his landlord."

They seemed to be fairly cogent points, as Giles sat back in his chair looking thoughtful. Willow's expression didn't change, and Buffy was terribly curious as to what her friend was thinking. Xander, as always, didn't keep her in the dark. "You aren't going to tell us he's moving back to Sunnydale, are you?" he demanded. "He's not going to take up where he left off with that sick obsession, is he?"

"Spike isn't moving back to Sunnydale," Buffy replied, hanging on to the shreds of her patience. "Like I said, he's happy in L.A. I did invite him up for New Year's, though."

Xander looked as though he might have protested, but instead let out a yelp which was probably someone's foot connecting with his shin under the table. "Well, I think it will be good to see Spike again," Willow said, sounding determinedly cheerful. "Kind of like old times."

Xander muttered something unintelligible, and Giles added his own thoughts. "I wouldn't mind having a talk with Spike," Giles said. "If what you've said is true, it would be quite a remarkable transformation—that Spike could go back to feeding on humans but would choose not to."

Buffy breathed a sigh of relief. If Giles was into his research mode, then he wasn't going to give her too hard of a time about Spike. At least, not right now while Spike posed no threat to her, and she wasn't showing a romantic interest. Xander was going to prove difficult, but that wasn't anything new. He'd always resented her boyfriends, human or vampire, even if he'd come to accept and like Riley after a while.

"Then you guys aren't going to make a big fuss when he's here?" Buffy asked. "Because he promised Dawn he'd give Connor a ride up."

"No fuss, Buffy," Willow promised. "Like I said, it'll be just like old times."

~~~~~

Giles had opted to stay in a hotel for the duration of his visit, and Xander went back to his apartment for the night. So Willow, Dawn and Buffy pulled out the ice cream, put on their pajamas, and settled down to catch up on the gossip.

"So, Buffy," Willow started out. "What's going on between you and Spike?"

"Why would anything be going on?" Buffy asked defensively. "There's nothing going on."

Willow and Dawn exchanged glances. "You asked him to come with you to sign those papers," the witch pointed out. "That has to mean something."

"It doesn't have to mean anything," Buffy said, then sighed. "Okay, so it means something. But, honestly, I don't know what it means. I have no clue where we're going with things, except that Spike's told me about three times now that he isn't coming back to Sunnydale. I'm not sure where that leaves us, other than just friends."

"Do you still have a thing for him?" Willow asked knowingly, smiling when Buffy stared at her in disbelief.

"How—"

Willow shook her head. "Buffy, after Spike left, you threw yourself into that relationship with Richard, then there was Steve, and after that it was Peter. It was like you were trying to prove something. I know I wasn't Miss Supportive-Friend, but I noticed that at least."

Slowly, Buffy explained exactly what had happened to lead up to Spike's departure. She hadn't even told Giles about that night in the alley, though Dawn knew because she'd seen Spike afterward. Buffy had told her Watcher that they'd had a fight and Spike left; she hadn't said anything about beating him to a bloody pulp. "That's the thing, Willow," Buffy said slowly. "Spike has been great, sweet even, but he hasn't said anything about forgiving me, even though I've apologized."

Dawn hesitated, and then said slowly, "I really think he still has feelings for you, Buffy."

"What good does that do either one of us?" Buffy demanded, sounding dangerously close to tears. "So what if we have feelings for each other? We live two different places, I'm about to be a mother, and Spike has a successful business with Wesley of all people."

A flicker of sadness crossed Willow's face, and she said quietly, "Love isn't something to just let go of, Buffy. Even if it seems impossible, you have to fight for it." Willow reached over and grabbed her hand. "Forget about Xander, and forget about everyone else. If Spike is the guy that's going to make you happy, then you need to do whatever it takes."

"When did you get so smart?" Buffy asked, taking another bite of Chunky Monkey.

Willow shrugged. "I've learned a lot from the coven this past couple months. There were some rituals—tests, really—that I had to go through to confirm my place. The point is to make you more yourself, sort of affirm your power with your personality."

"Wow," Dawn murmured. "That sounds—painful."

"It was," Willow agreed. "In fact, you could say that it sucked, but it was important that I do it. The coven thinks I'm ready to start my own group here, to watch over the Hellmouth. So I'm going to be Sunnydale High computer sciences teacher by day, and witch by night. In any case, I got a little different view on things. Spike's choices and his actions mean more than what he is, Buffy. I get that now."

"Thanks, Will." She reached over and gave her friend a hug. "And I'm glad you're going to be around more. It'll be nice to have you close again. Was that part of what Giles wanted to talk to me about? You helping to watch over the Hellmouth?" They hadn't gotten the chance to sit down and talk details. Her Watcher had been jet-lagged, and Buffy was willing to wait.

"Part of it," Willow affirmed. "I'll let him tell you the rest." She turned to Dawn. "So, Dawnie, tell me about Connor. Is he really Angel's son?"

Part IV: Realizations

"Changes come/Turn my world around/I have my father's hand/I have my mother's tongue/I look for redemption in everyone/I wanna wear your ring/I have a song to sing/It ain't over babe/In fact it's just begun/Changes come/Turn my world around/Changes come/Bring the whole thing down/I wanna have our baby/Somedays I think that maybe/ This ol' world's too f---ed up for any first born son/There is all this untouched beauty/The light, the dark both running through me/Is there still redemption for anyone?..." ~Over the Rhine, "Changes Come"

Chapter 19: December/January 2005

Wesley sat out on Nika's front steps, cup of coffee in hand, waiting for the sun to rise. He had been awake for hours now, holding Nika and waiting until it felt late enough to get out of bed.

It had been a mistake of course—calling his parents on Christmas Eve. He'd thought to get the obligatory semi-annual call out of the way. If it was over and done with, he wouldn't have to feel guilty about not having done it sooner. Wesley had no desire to dampen the holiday cheer with the inevitable gloom speaking with his father invariably left.

Conversations with his father always left a bad taste in his mouth, however, and last night was no exception. He'd returned to Nika's house, after having retrieved an overnight bag and completing his familial duties. Wesley thought he'd hidden his melancholy from the others well, and perhaps he had. Spike and Enid hadn't seemed to notice that he was out of sorts, although it was always hard to tell what Spike noticed, as he didn't always comment on it. He smiled, and managed to make small talk, but otherwise stayed to himself, nursing fresh wounds.

Eventually the vampire and the older woman retreated to the basement, leaving him alone with Nika. "What happened?"

There was no preamble, and so she'd managed to startle the truth out of him. "I spoke with my father this evening."

Nika sighed. "Oh, Wesley." She pulled him to his feet. "Come on. I think we should go to bed."

He allowed her to lead him into her bedroom, feeling a sudden burst of rage at his father for managing to bollocks up this night that should have been perfect. Yes, he had made the decision to call, but would it kill the man to acknowledge that his son wasn't a complete screw-up?

Nika seemed to be reading his thoughts. "I am going to put a hex on that man," she said fiercely. "Every time you talk to him it's like this."

"Like what?" he asked dully.

She hissed in frustration. "Like this. You get so—depressed, I guess."

Wesley shook his head, wanting to deny her words, but they were true to a certain extent. His father did have the unique capacity to reduce him to a shaky adolescent at the best of times. "I'll be fine."

Nika didn't seem to hear him. Instead, she pushed him down on the bed, unlacing his shoes for him. "Nika, you don't—"

"Let me make love to you tonight, Wesley," she said, interrupting him. "Let me show you what you are."

So he'd let her. With gentle hands Nika had undressed him, removing his sweater and the t-shirt he wore under it, staring in frank admiration at his chest. The hunger in her eyes had stirred him enough so that he'd begun to respond, to return the favor.

They had undressed one another, feeling no hurry. There was no urgency in their movements. Then again, their relationship had never been based on a burning passion, though that was a part of it. Instead, it was based upon a solid friendship and a love that ran so deep there was no bottom. They loved in a way that only the broken can.

She spoke to him as they made love, her hands never at rest. Sometimes in Welsh, sometimes in English, she told him how wonderful he was, how beautiful, how important. Nika promised him that they would have a life together, that it would be everything such things were meant to be.

Nika managed to salve his wounded psyche and make him feel like a giant among men—not a small feat.

Which was why this morning, Christmas morning, he was out on her front stoop wondering what on earth he'd ever done to deserve her.

Wesley wasn't fool enough to think of pushing her away for her own good, of course. He was also too selfish to willingly give up one of the few wholly good and pure things he'd ever had. Yet he couldn't help but wonder why on earth a woman such as Nika would want a man whose belt was notched with failures.

"Bore da, Wesley," Enid said from behind him. He turned to see her shutting the front door silently, holding a cup of coffee in her hand.

"Bore da, Enid," he replied evenly, carefully, not wanting to allow any of his thoughts to color his words. His father would tell him he was being hopelessly melodramatic, and Wesley thought his father might just be right in this instance.

Enid's sharp eyes, much like Nika's, seemed to look right down into his soul. "While this is a beautiful morning, one might wonder why an active young man such as yourself is not unwrapping his Christmas presents this morning."

The double meaning in her words was obvious, and Wesley wasn't quite sure how to respond. He certainly didn't expect double entendre from a grandmother. "She's sleeping."

"Ah, I see," she replied, a twinkle in her eyes. "And you do not know quite yet how she prefers waking up: in her lover's arms, or in a cold bed."

Irritation flashed across Wesley's face at her needling before he could stop it. "I've been awake for a while."

Enid nodded, in what seemed to be satisfaction, whether because he hadn't risen to her bait or for some other reason, he couldn't tell. She sat down carefully on the step and patted the space beside her. "Sit."

Though her tone was gentle, Wesley knew she wasn't going to take no for an answer, and so he sat obediently. "You never met Danny did you?"

Wesley had known this was coming. By unspoken agreement, Nika rarely talked about her dead husband, after that first time they'd spoken of him. Others hadn't had so many qualms, however. He had met a few of their friends over the course of knowing Nika, and they had all told him how wonderful Danny had been, what a beautiful couple they had made. The implication being that he was nowhere near as wonderful, nor should he hope to compete. Lorne had been the first to reveal that not all had been perfect between them, but he couldn't hope for the same from Enid. He didn't dare hope for the same.

"No, I never did. I believe he was killed about a year before we met."

Enid nodded. "You would not have liked him."

A pair of startled blue eyes swung around to stare at her sharply. "What—"

She smiled, pleased to have shocked the man out of his state of icy isolation. Nika had told her Wesley had the nasty habit of folding in on himself, and she'd seen it for herself the previous night. When she'd asked Spike about it later, after they'd both gone downstairs, he'd looked thoughtful and concerned. "Dunno what's up," he had admitted. "If I had to guess, it was the annual call to the old pater, though. Wesley's sense of duty won't let him write the old bastard off, even though he should."

Well, Nika had told her about Wesley's past, enough to let her know that he'd been smacked around by life more than a bit. In her mind, it was all to the good. "Did you think I was going to sing a eulogy to him? Tell you that you couldn't hope to measure up, but that I hope Danika will be happy with you anyway?"

The expression on his face was enough of a reply. She made a sound of disgust in the back of her throat. "Bah. Don't be an idiot, cariad. Danny was a nice enough sort, but not at all good enough for my granddaughter."

"I don't—I don't understand," Wesley said cautiously. "Her friends..."

"Do you see her friends here?" Enid asked. "No. I see you, and I see Spike. You are her friends, and you are as unlike Daniel as night and day, thank heaven."

Wesley started to shake his head as though to argue, and Enid continued, hoping to put a certain ghost to rest for once and all. "My Danika was a girl when they met, and a solemn child. No wonder, with all the heartache she'd known. Daniel was bold and handsome, always singing and dancing."

Enid pretended not to see Wesley's wince. Wesley was coming to the rapid conclusion that Enid had been right; he wouldn't have liked the man. It sounded as though Danny was the sort of person that Wesley had always wanted to be as a young man, and the sort that had always shunned him.

"So. He saw her, and he wanted her, and Nika wanted him right back," Enid stated.

"They weren't in love?" Wesley asked, interested in spite of himself. This was Nika they were talking about, and he hungered for knowledge about her. He couldn't know enough. He wanted to understand her as well as she seemed to understand him.

Enid snorted. "Oh, they were in love. Daniel loved her, in his own way. But life was a game to him. He'd never experienced any sorrow, or heartache, and he never took anything seriously. At the time, perhaps Nika needed that. He, at least, taught her how to play. Later, when they discovered he could not father children, he did not understand how much pain that brought her."

Wesley shook his head. "Surely they could have adopted, or chosen another option," he said. "There are other ways to have children. I hardly think Nika would have minded."

"No, she would not have minded."

Her tone told Wesley everything he needed to know. "He didn't want children."

"No," Enid confirmed. "He would have given them to her, had he been able to father them, but he was unwilling to go any further to help her. Daniel was too busy being a policeman and fighting demons to see that Danika was slowly crumbling. He did not know how to help her bear her burden."

"So he ran away," Wesley said softly, remembering what Lorne had told him so recently.

Enid nodded. "Daniel ran, and he got himself killed." She gave Wesley a serious look. "I do not tell you this because I wish you to think ill of his memory, but because I believe that even as Nika needed Daniel so many years ago, now she needs you. She needs a man who understands sorrow and hurt and grief, one who will help her bear those burdens, and whose burdens she can in turn bear. Do you understand?"

"You're saying—" Wesley faltered. He thought she was saying that he and Nika were meant to be together, that he was right for her. He could hardly think it to himself, let alone say the words aloud.

"That I believe you to be a good man, and a gentle one." She smiled gently. "You are not a warrior, Wesley, but a soldier. A man who fights because he must, and yet longs to be able to go home at the end of the day." Standing, Enid set her mug down on the stairs and took Wesley's head between both hands. "You will live long, and you will know joy, cariad annwyl." Bending down, she kissed his forehead in benediction.

Wesley swallowed hard as she held him, held him the way he could never remember his mother doing, nor anyone else. "And Wesley?" she murmured.

"Yes?"

"Call me nain."

~~~~~

Spike was woken by the shrill ring of his cell phone. With a curse, he reached over to pick it up. He could never quite remember to turn it off before he went to bed. Not that the thing rang constantly, but it always seemed to go off when he was trying to get some sleep. He supposed it had something to do with Murphy's Law.

"H'lo."

"Merry Christmas, Spike."

He blinked the last of the sleep out of his eyes and sat up straighter. "Buffy?"

"Yeah." Some of the cheerfulness in her voice was now replaced with caution. "Is this a bad time?"

"No, luv. Just a bit surprised to hear from you is all." He paused and considered. "That, an' I was asleep."

"I'm sorry I woke you up," she replied.

"I'm not," he said, before he could bite back the words. Of course, it was true. He wasn't sorry to hear from Buffy at any time of the day or night. On the other hand, he wasn't sure how much of his heart he really wanted to reveal to her.

But he could hear the smile in her voice when she replied, "I'm glad I'm not bugging you. I just wanted to say 'Merry Christmas' and make sure you're still coming down next week."

"Yeah, luv. Talked to Connor the other day, an' he's catching a lift from me. Couldn't disappoint the Niblet." There was a hesitation, and then he said, "Or you."

There was a silence on the other end, and Spike could almost picture the Slayer at her most indecisive—biting her lip, eyes focused on the middle distance. "I wish you could be here."

Spike had no idea how to respond to that, other than to say, "Christmas is a time for family, Slayer."

"And you're not family?" she asked. "I know that's the way Dawn thinks of you. And I do too."

Spike was now officially confused—if he hadn't been before. It wasn't as though Buffy was sending him mixed signals. No, her signals had all been quite clear, and seemed to consistently read "I want you with me." That was part of the problem. Buffy wasn't known for sending clear signals.

In the past, the Slayer had said "yes" one minute, and "no" the next. She would come looking for him one hour, and leave him bleeding in an alley just a short time later. Part of their dance was all about her not giving him a clear indication of where he stood, making him guess, making him sweat. (Except that vampires don't sweat.) Spike wanted to ask what the bleedin' hell had changed, because the rules were different, and he wasn't even sure what the game was supposed to be.

"'ve got my own family here, pet," he said, in gentle rebuke.

He heard her sigh. "I know, Spike. I just—I wish we had the same families, you know?"

"I know, luv." Spike leaned back in his bed and thought about what he would have given to be a part of her family at one point. Now, he had his own, and had no desire to give that up. Even for Buffy. Especially for Buffy. "I'll be up next week. Tell the Bit happy Christmas from me, yeah?"

"Sure," Buffy replied, sounding sad. "I'll see you soon, Spike."

"Yeah. Soon, Slayer." He hung up the phone and then scrubbed one hand over his face, wondering if he was doing the right thing. He still wanted her—wanted her even more than he thought possible in moments like this, when everything seemed possible. He couldn't leave Wesley though. He couldn't. No matter how much he might still love Buffy, Spike knew that his first loyalty was to his family in L.A. It had to be, for his own sanity.

But he wanted her so bad.

~~~~~

This particular year, Christmas at the Summers' residence was more subdued. It probably had to do with the fact that Dawn was old enough to appreciate sleeping in, rather than waking the entire house in her haste to unwrap presents. It was a leisurely morning, with everyone finally showing up around noon.

Buffy had cooked (she'd recently seemed to get the hang of it), and everyone ate until they were too full to move. Presents were opened, conversation was made, egg nog was consumed. It was really a lovely day.

But Buffy still felt Spike's absence.

It was ridiculous to miss him so badly when he'd never really spent a Christmas with them. Even the Christmas after the gang brought her back from the grave, she had made it clear that he wasn't welcome. Remembering that now, Buffy felt a flush of shame. She'd wasted so much time.

Sitting out here on the back porch, where she and Spike had shared so many silences, so many conversations, she remembered why it was that she missed him. She recognized the dull ache that had been with her for three years. She had explained it away as fatigue, being sorry she was alive, the most recent breakup with the most recent boyfriend.

She now realized she'd missed him this whole time.

"There you are, Buffy," Giles said, coming outside, a glass of brandy in his hand. "I wanted to speak with you."

Buffy looked up at him, smiling. "'Bout what?"

"About what I worked out with the Council," he replied, sitting down beside her. "I think we might have managed to arrange something out that will be beneficial to all involved."

Buffy looked skeptical. "And that would be..."

"As I mentioned, I have noticed that the activity around the Hellmouth has been greatly reduced these last few years. It is my belief that it is becoming dormant, and that the demonic activity will eventually shift to somewhere other than Sunnydale." Giles gave her a compassionate look. "There is no reason for you to stay here anymore, should you not want to."

Buffy blinked. "You're saying I could leave Sunnydale." She took a deep breath. "But the Council doesn't have anything to do with that."

"No," Giles agreed. "What the Council does have is the ability to declare you retired." At the look on Buffy's face, Giles explained. "Faith has been showing continued improvement over the last few years. It's my understanding that she will be up for parole shortly. The Council will make sure that it's approved. Faith will be the Slayer, as she was meant to be. And you will receive a pension from the Council. Of course, should you choose to continue to pursue your Slayer activities, no one will mind, but it will no longer be required of you."

Buffy felt as though she couldn't breathe. This was everything she had ever wanted, and she couldn't believe it. "Giles, are you sure? Is Faith ready?" Buffy shook her head. "Who's going to be her Watcher?"

Giles held up a hand to stem the flow of questions. "I doubt that you are aware that the Council has gone through quite a turnover in the last year. Several of the older—hmm, shall we say stuffier?—members have recently passed away or stepped down, leaving more forward thinking individuals. A number of whom are, quite frankly, good friends of mine."

He sighed. "As for Faith, Angel assures us that she has changed, and I've spoken to her myself. I feel that she could take over as the Slayer and do an adequate job. The job of Watcher for Faith is still open, though they have asked me to help select a candidate, hopefully someone like her first Watcher, with whom she got on quite well."

Buffy looked over at him. "Giles, is this the right thing? I mean, it's not like I want to retire completely. I just want—"

"Options?" he asked gently. "There is nothing wrong with that, Buffy. While I will never be sorry that Willow brought you back, I will say that it was asking too much of you."

Buffy nodded slowly. "Yeah. It was."

They sat in silence for a while longer before Giles asked, "What will you do?"

The Slayer sighed. "I'll have to talk to Dawn, but I think I want to sell the house, or maybe rent it out. Now that I have the choice, I think I want to move back to L.A. Dawn likes it there, and we both have friends there."

"I assume you are talking about Spike," Giles said carefully.

Buffy shot him a look. "Yes. I'm talking about Spike. You should know that I asked him to look after the baby if anything happens to me." Giles looked shocked, but Buffy ignored him. "He keeps his promises, Giles. No matter what, you have to give him credit for that."

The Watcher was about to argue, but shut his mouth. Buffy was right, of course. Spike did keep his promises. "I hope you will both be able to work something out to your mutual satisfaction," Giles said. "And I hope you'll be happy, Buffy. The pension the Council is offering isn't much, but it's enough to help you out at least."

Buffy smiled. "I've been taking care of myself for a long time, Giles. It'll work out."

"Indeed," he replied.

And they both remained seated, immersed in their own thoughts.

~~~~~

Spike pulled up in front of Buffy's house right on time. He and Connor had left L.A. right after sunset with, amazingly enough, Angel's permission. The other vampire had actually been rather cordial on the phone, not even threatening to stake him once.

Spike had nearly asked Connor if his father had gotten body-snatched.

Waiting until the boy had dismounted, he swung his leg over the bike, watching as Connor copied his movements when he tucked the helmet under his arm. "What time do you want to leave?"

Connor considered for a moment. "Whenever," he finally said. "But I promised Dad I'd be back before the sun rose." He grinned suddenly. "He's just trying to put off the inevitable."

Spike raised an eyebrow and headed up the walk. "Inevitable?"

Connor shrugged. "Sure. He thinks if he starts giving me more freedom and gets off my case, I won't move out."

"You two doing alright, then?" Spike asked. "I might not always like him, but I don't want to cause any trouble 'tween you two."

Connor gave Spike one of his quick, rare grins. "We're fine. Dad knows he has to let go sometime, and he won't always like my friends. Cordy's really good about getting him to loosen up."

Spike nodded, glad that he and Wesley's relationship with the boy wasn't causing trouble between he and his father. "From what I've heard, I 'magine she would be."

He had to admit that he liked the lad. The boy was a deft one with weapons of any kind, and was good in a fight. More than that, he made Dawn happy, and for that reason alone Spike would have liked him.

If Connor broke her heart, it would be a completely different story.

Spike rang the doorbell and then stepped back, letting Connor stay in the lead. He wasn't sure who would be answering the door, nor what their reaction to him might be. Spike wasn't a coward, but he understood the benefits of having a buffer. Buffy was the one who answered the door, however, and she greeted her sister's boyfriend with a hug and a quick peck on the cheek. "Hey, Connor. Come on in. Dawn's waiting anxiously for your arrival."

Connor blushed at the attention, gave her a shy smile, and ducked inside to find Dawn. Buffy's eyes stayed on Spike. "Hey. I'm glad you could make it."

"Yeah, me too," Spike replied, stepping inside.

They stood like that for a while, neither knowing what to say, and yet neither wanting to break eye contact. It seemed enough just to look, the sight of the other like a draught of water after a long trek through the desert. "Spike!"

Dawn broke through their stasis with her cheerful greeting. "You made it!"

"Sure I did, Bit," he said, managing a warm smile for the girl. "Promised, didn't I?"

She grinned. "Then get in here. No point standing around in the hall waiting. There's food in the living room. Buffy even figured out how to make a blooming onion for you."

Spike's head snapped around to stare at her, a note of wonder kindling in his eyes. Buffy looked uncharacteristically shy in response. "Well, I tried. No one's been allowed to touch it yet, so I don't know how good it's going to be."

"I'm sure it'll be perfect, luv," Spike said, and the feeling in his eyes sent shivers up and down Buffy's spine.

The evening went reasonably well. Buffy had sat Xander down and had a very serious talk with him, which meant he was actually being cordial to Spike. Of course, cordial for Xander meant that he mumbled "hello" and proceeded to ignore the vampire.

No one else seemed to be having an adverse reaction to Spike's presence. Willow and Giles both greeted him genially, before returning to their conversation. Dawn was happy to have him, as was Buffy, but the Slayer noticed that Spike was soon looking uncomfortable, as though he couldn't wait to escape.

She laid a gentle hand on his arm. "You want to go out to the back porch?" Buffy offered. "You look like you're dying for a cigarette."

"Figuratively speaking," he admitted. He followed her through the kitchen, watching in amusement as she grabbed the plate with the blooming onion to take out back with them.

Outside, Spike breathed a sigh of relief and lit up. While no one had gone out of their way to make him feel uncomfortable, he still felt as though he didn't quite belong. There were times with Wesley and Nika that he forgot he was a vampire—or at least he forgot it was supposed to make a difference. The memories were too close here. These were the people who had consistently treated him like shit, even when he wasn't doing anything to deserve it.

Spike felt like he didn't belong here. Which meant he didn't belong with Buffy.

Hiding his melancholy mood behind cigarette smoke and appreciative bites of Buffy's blooming onion, he sat with the Slayer in silence.

"Can I ask you for a favor?"

Spike glanced over at her, taking his time before answering. She was always wanting a favor. "What would that be, pet?"

Buffy glanced over at him and then away again, out into the yard. "Would you ask Nika if she'd like to be midwife to a Slayer? I've been looking into things, and I think I really want to use a midwife. You know, do the whole thing the natural way."

"I've heard that can be a mite painful," Spike said dryly. "Might turn you off havin' any more kiddies."

"I'm not going to have any more children, Spike," Buffy replied quietly.

Spike looked concerned. "Here now, this isn't about thinkin' you won't live long enough, is it?"

"I don't have a death wish, if that's what you're asking," she replied. "But a normal guy can't handle the Slayer, Spike. And non-normal guys are both rare and typically unable to have kids. Therefore, probably not having more."

Spike wasn't sure what to say to that. Her reasoning seemed both logical and innocuous, not due to any kind of death-wish, or contemplation of her own mortality. It was the meaning of "non-normal guys" that made him wonder. Was she trying to tell him something, or was he reading into her statement a meaning that wasn't there?

"Well, long as you're plannin' on bein' around a good long while, s'pose I can ask Nika to midwife for you," Spike conceded. "But, luv, you know she's in L.A. That's goin' to make things inconvenient for one of you."

"I'm not planning on being here for the birth, Spike," Buffy said evenly.

Spike raised an eyebrow. "You want to have the baby in L.A.?"

"No, I want to move to L.A."

Hell had just frozen over. "You—L.A.—" Spike took a moment to find his tongue. "You're movin'?"

"Giles gave me the thumbs-up," she explained. "Hellmouth activity is way down, Faith's going to get out on parole soon, and I'm being given the okay to retire. I even get a pension."

Spike blinked. "An' you've decided to come to L.A.?"

"Dawn likes it there," Buffy said. "And I have friends there."

He nodded. "Yeah, you do at that. So you're gonna be close."

"Very close, I hope." The silence stretched out between them as Spike tried to figure out what exactly Buffy was saying. Was she moving to be closer to Dawn, because it was really what she wanted, or did it have something to with him? Could it possibly have something to do with him?

"That'll be good," he admitted.

Her hand found his in the darkness. "I want to get to know you again," she said softly. "I missed you."

Because it was dark, and because he didn't have to see her face, see the derision or the anger, Spike replied with the truth. "My feelings haven't changed, Buffy. Thought they might someday, but I was foolin' myself. It can't be like it was though."

"No, it can't," she agreed. "Can we just be friends for a while? I mean, the kind of friends where everybody knows about it, and we just hang out, like it was for a while. I—You remember when I would have those nightmares?"

"I remember," he replied gently.

Buffy turned and faced him for the first time. "I felt safe with you. You were the only one who could make the nightmares go away. It wasn't just me using you, Spike. It meant something."

"No, Slayer," he corrected her. "It meant everything."

She didn't reply in words. Instead, she kissed him, her lips wet with her own tears. It was a gentle kiss, tentative, and hopeful. And when it was over, they sat close, shoulders touching, like old friends or lovers.

Chapter 20: January 2006

"Do you have everything you need?" Buffy asked her sister, sounding a little anxious.

Dawn raised an eyebrow. "Uh, Buffy, we're only going to be gone like one night. Maybe two. It's not that big of a deal."

"Who said it was?" Buffy asked, sounding defensive. "I didn't say it was a big deal."

Dawn snorted. "Please. You've been jumpy all day. What's your deal? Just because we're going to meet Nika's nain—" she stopped. "It's because of Spike, isn't it? You're nervous about seeing him again."

"Of course not," Buffy scoffed. "I mean, I just saw him a few days ago."

Dawn gave her sister a knowing look. "Except that you told him we were moving to L.A., which is sort of like saying the 'l'-word."

"Me moving to L.A. has nothing to do with Spike," Buffy said firmly. "I might have strong feelings, but I'm not in love with Spike."

"Which is why you're acting like a teenager with her first crush," Dawn said wisely. "Sure, Buffy. Look, just do me a favor, okay? If you really do fall in love with the guy, just go with it. Nobody cares if you're with him. Nobody who really matters, anyway." She reached over and gave her sister a hug. "He still loves you, you know?"

"I know," Buffy said quietly. "I know. Amazingly enough, I don't think that's the point."

"Then what is the point?"

"Do I love him enough?" Buffy sighed. "Because I know I love him enough to not want to hurt him again."

~~~~~

Spike tugged the sweater on over his head. It was one that Nika had given him for Christmas, which she assured him was very flattering. Buffy was going to be arriving any minute, and he wanted to be sure he looked—

"Bugger this," he muttered, although he left the sweater on. Just because the Slayer was moving to L.A. didn't mean anything. So what if she was going to be closer? So what if it appeared as though she might actually want a relationship with him? It didn't mean anything.

He'd gotten his hopes up before, and it had just landed him in more trouble than he wanted.

"Spike? Are you ready?" Nika came down the stairs cautiously. "Is anything wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong," he replied, his tone a little sharp. Spike sighed, softening his expression slightly. "Sorry, luv. 's just—"

"Things can change, Spike," Nika said with a smile. "Sometimes for the better."

He looked away. "Not when you're me," he muttered.

"Hey, you met me, didn't you?" she teased. "Not to mention Wesley. Who's to say you won't live happily ever after?"

"Past experience," Spike said drily.

Nika frowned. "Spike—"

He shook his head, forestalling her words. "Don't mind me, luv. Just feelin' a bit out of sorts tonight."

Nika put a gentle hand on his cheek. "You have the right, cariad. Come upstairs now?"

"Right behind you," Spike assured her. He heard Buffy's voice before they reached the main level, and could tell that Wesley was making introductions.

"It's really nice to meet you," Buffy was saying as they came out to the living room. Spike could see Enid giving her the once-over, and he had the suspicion that Nika had told her of his feelings for the Slayer.

Actually, Spike knew Nika had been filling her grandmother in on him. Every time they started giggling and speaking exclusively in Welsh, he knew they were talking about him. He'd actually been keeping fairly close to Wesley the past couple weeks, since the other man spoke the language, and they didn't act quite as giddy when the ex-Watcher was around.

Enid smiled and warmly returned her greeting. "It is nice to meet you as well, Buffy." She turned and looked at Dawn. "And you must be Dawn. I have heard many good things about you."

Dawn blushed and smiled. "It's nice to know I'm appreciated," she joked.

"We should eat," Enid announced. "The food will be cold soon."

The others headed off for the small dining room, leaving Spike and Buffy face to face. Neither one of them knew how to greet each other. A few years ago, it wouldn't have mattered—the Slayer would have either popped him in the nose or jumped his bones or not even acknowledged his presence. Everything was different these days, and the feeling of being off balance left both of them on edge and insecure.

Buffy wanted to kiss him, or embrace him, but she wasn't sure it was allowed. She had no idea what constituted "good touching" anymore. She had no idea what he wanted from her. Finally, after several seconds of silence, she decided it was time to grab the bull by the horns.

Spike was a bit surprised when Buffy kissed him gently on the cheek in greeting, but he couldn't help but feel pleased. Feeling very daring, he tucked her hair behind her ear. "Glad you and the Bit could make it, luv."

Buffy simply smiled and tucked her hand into his arm, letting him lead the way into