Title: The Unexpected (pt 7 of NA)

Author: Nimue

Rating: PG-13

Disclaimer: All characters belong to Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, etc.. Just borrowing.

Summary: Spike awakes from the dream of his challenges and falls into conflict with the Scoobies.

The Unexpected

Spike's eyes flickered open. He stared around at the comfortable familiarity of his crypt and sighed. It had all been worth it. But he could not shake the idea that somehow Buffy knew about the trip. Somehow she knew that Spike was no longer a serial killer in prison.

He stood up, stretching like a cat. It was dark outside. He had slept the entire day. Maybe being free of torment had its benefits. Slowly, Spike dressed, clearing the cobwebs from his sleepy head, and started out to Buffy's. He promised he would come round.

All the lights were on at the Revello Drive house. No wonder she was always short on the utility bill. Spike walked to the back door, knocking softly. No answer. He tested the knob and found it unlocked, letting himself into the kitchen.

There were muted voices coming from the family room. Several of them, rhythmically speaking, intense silences punctuating the chatter. Spike moved through the sitting room and into the doorway. They were all sitting there. The lot of them, circling the coffee table. Buffy was sitting on the couch, hands in her lap, her head hanging down.

"Buffy?" he asked from the doorway. She looked up and so many emotions crossed her eyes at once. She seemed surprised, a little relieved, and then startled.

"YOU!" he heard in a booming voice, and Xander was out of his chair, coming at Spike like a steam engine with legs.

"Xander, stop!" Buffy called after him, but it was too late. Xander sucker punched Spike in the nose, immediately cocking his arm back for another blow.

Buffy moved to get up but Willow pressed her back. "Pick your battles," Willow whispered into Buffy's ear. "They need to sort this out."

"I can't believe you would even show your ugly face, " Xander ranted, furious, raging, raining blows on Spike like a hailstorm. Spike deflected most, but did not throw any of his own.

"Xander, Stop!" Dawn screeched, running towards the pair, but Tara grabbed her, not wanting Dawn to even go near the fray.

"I take it you've told them, love," Spike asked, ducking his head from one of Xanders slow right hooks. Buffy shrugged from her space on the couch, nodding slightly.

"You bastard," Xander screamed, "You really are a dirty, evil, vampire. You raped her didn't you?"

Spike's face went completely blank, staring at the boy, shocked and horrified at his statement. Before Xander could even open his mouth, Spike hauled his right arm back and let it fly, striking Xander square in the shoulder and knocking him clear to the other side of the room. The boy's body hit the wall and slid down to the floor with a thump.

Everything was silent. "I would never," Spike snarled, "Even in my worst years, do that. I think you should know by now that I love the girl," he finished. The blank stares were all on him. He turned on the heel of his boot and walked out of the room.

"Spike!" Buffy called after him, jumping from the couch, running over the coffee table and all of the still bodies on the living room floor. The back door was ajar and she slid through, out to the porch. He was sitting there, like so many nights before. Softly, she sat down next to him. The silence was deafening.

"Did you tell them that, Buffy?" Spike asked, swallowing hard. "Did you tell them that I..." He couldn't finish the sentence. He could not even fathom the words.

"No," she answered confidently. "I didn't say anything like that."

"What did you say?" he asked, finally bringing himself to look at her.

"I did not think they needed to know *how* it happened," Buffy answered blushing a little, a slight grin on her face. He could not help but smile back at her. "So, I just told them that I was... and that the baby was yours. Xander ran with it, I guess."

"Should've ripped the whelp's head off for that," Spike replied, anger creeping back into his voice.

"How's your head?" Buffy asked, touching his forehead softly.

"Fine, why? Got a bloody mark? Boy doesn't hit that hard."

"But you do," Buffy replied. A puzzled look broke across her face. Then her eyes widened. He saw her processing everything, thinking it through. She had not known.

"It's gone, Pet," he said, putting his hand on hers, resting against his temple. "I am what I am."

The words rang in Buffy's ears. She knew she had heard them. She had said them before. She shook her head as if she had a chill.

"You alright, Slayer?" Spike asked, concern taking over his face.

"How? When?" she answered, still dazed.

"It's a long story, " he replied, looking at his knees, "which I would be happy to tell you. I just don't think now is the time."

Buffy stared at him, blinking her beautiful, doe eyes, looking as if she were in another world.

His voice brought her back. "Slayer?"

"When?" she asked again.

"To be honest, Pet, I'm not sure. Time went all wonky there for a while. For both of us, it seems. But it was pretty close to the time Soldier Boy came back to town. Just after, if I remember it right."

Again, Buffy's face was blank, her hand still resting under his. Still as a statue.

"Buffy?" he asked, squeezing her fingers, "You OK? You need to go to doctor?"

"No," she answered, coming back to him again. "You will tell me how?"

"Yes," he answered, "But the mess inside needs to be cleaned up first."

She nodded in reply, but he knew Buffy was not done with him yet.

"Spike?" she asked tentatively. "Have you...fed...since then?"

He stared at her quietly, those blue eyes melting her, looking into her mind. Since the night he returned, in the alley, the thought had not really crossed his mind. "No," he answered, "I've no taste for it anymore. Think I've gotten attached to those flower-shaped onion things."

With that, she smiled. The same smile she had given him when she stepped through the fire that night in Africa. "You coming in?" she asked, standing up, crossing the porch.

"If you would like," he answered.

She thought for a moment, holding the door open. "Yes, I would like," she answered. He followed her into the house.

to be contd.