5 Months Later

The Churchill Hospital

Room 314

The OBG-YN Doctor Lorne moved the ultrasound probe slowly over Buffy's stomach. His eyes were on the monitor to Buffy's left.

Nervously, despite having done this for the fifth time, Buffy kept her gaze away from the monitor on her hands, still in disbelief that there was really a baby growing in her body.

The unborn baby's fluttering heartbeat filled the room.

"Has the little peanut—well," Dr Lorne smiled looking at Buffy, "technically it's the size of a pear," he laughed. "Has the little pear been kicking?"

Buffy nodded, "Yeah, a lot lately. I think the little 'pear' is striving to be the next, Mia Hamm."

"Or David Beckham," Lorne tossed her a wink then turned his eyes back to the monitor. "The position is normal. A strong heartbeat."

"And a solid grip," Buffy felt like running to the bathroom for the umpteenth time. "I pretty sure little 'Mia Beckham' thinks my bladder is a squeeze toy."

Dr Lorne chuckled, "That's very normal. Now," he sat up a bit straighter with anticipating excitement, "would you like to know the sex?"

Buffy swallowed not ready to know the sex of the unborn child she and Angelus had created. "Uh," she began to stutter nervously, "n-no… Not yet."

Dr Lorne nodded with understanding, creating his own assumptions in his head. "You want to wait for your husband. Oh, I can print it out and put it in an envelope… Oh! Or you can throw one of the adorable gender reveal parties." He wiped the gel from Buffy's stomach as she pulled the hem of her shirt down.

Sitting up on the bed, Buffy shook her head uncomfortable by the conversation. "Uh, I don't think so. Spike and I are—Well, we'd prefer a surprise."

"The best kind of prize is a sur-prise," Dr Lorne wagged his brows with a laugh.

Eyeing her doctor strangely, Buffy raised her brows high up her forehead. Dr Lorne was an amusing character in his own right. They bonded being both from California now living in London. She enjoyed his peculiar sense of humour. It was a nice break from the tense tension with her husband and the weighing sadness she felt constantly for her other husband.

"Rotten your blondie-bear couldn't join us," he took off the rubber gloves and tossed them into the waste bin labelled: Hazardous Materials.

Buffy felt odd talking to a semi-stranger about her marital woes. Instead, Buffy smiled politely and explained, "He's at band practice now. He has a really important show tonight. Record label guys are gonna be there."

Dr Lorne smiled brightly, "Oh! How exciting! I used to be in a cappella group back when I was in Stanford. We were called, St. Elmo's Choir." He smiled, "I was the Emilio Estevez of the group," he gestured to himself, appearing proud.

Unable to stop, Buffy found herself smiling at her amusing doctor. It felt good to smile and even release a genuine laugh.

It was still hard being back in the twenty-first century and at times, Buffy felt waves of depression but it somehow had gotten easier. When the baby kicked, Buffy felt a jolt of happiness. A piece of Angelus was still with her.

Night

The Host

Sitting at a table near the back but in perfect view of the stage, Buffy watched her husband's band.

To the right, sitting in a booth two men in expensive suits sat with their cocktail drinks. Their expressions were unreadable, Buffy figured those were the record label executives Spike talked about.

Her eyes followed each person that passed her, some headed to the bar, the dance floor, and others walked to a dark corner for privacy.

Pushing a long blonde strand behind her ear, Buffy felt a heavy gaze on her. She lifted her eyes to find Spike on stage locking eyes with her.

For months he had kept his patience with her, giving her the space she desired. He never asked too much from her, except to not push him away anymore. Buffy knew that she needed to come back into her life completely. She needed to get over Angelus. He was dead and he wasn't coming back. She was in the twenty-first century with a baby on the way. You have to live. She told herself repeatedly.

"She's an angel

But she can't see it

But she's flying above me every day

Every day of my life,"

Buffy listened to his smooth voice and graced him with a twitching smile. She knew this song well, he wrote it for her long ago after a night of passionately making love.

"Bright diamond eyes with daggers beneath them

She carries the chains of a million decisions

That weren't even hers to being with anyway

But she carries them all

All the people around her

Never even notice that she's very, very tired,"

The smile tugging at her lips slowly fell listening to the lyrics as if for the first time. It seems even then, Spike could almost predict the future. The only reason why she's back here was because of a decision that was made for her and she struggled to let go. Buffy was tired—very, very tired.

Living in the darkness of depression and grief was exhausting. Spike offered her life that could be happy if she only let him in. He loves her. He wants to be with her.

It's time to move on and make things right with Spike. She decided.

Pushing her hair back, Buffy felt a kick of the baby. Her hand went over her round belly and smiled lovingly.

It's time, little 'Mia Beckham'. She silently told the baby growing in her body. I have to make things work with your fa—Spike. Buffy swallowed.

On the stage, Spike's eyes were on Buffy across the club. He sang into the microphone, having the band play this song, especially for her.

For months he sat in the backseat while she slowly brought herself from her slump. She was getting better, he thought. They were talking more but it was still very polite. As if something was holding them back from being how they were.

Every time he tried to be intimate with her, Buffy would find some excuse to push him away and create distance.

They began to turn the office room in the baby's room. It was becoming increasingly obvious that they needed a bigger place, but at the moment, they were a bit strapped for cash. Spike eminently refused Giles' offer to lend them money.

As he sang to his wife, Spike noticed a transcendent dark-haired beauty sitting at the table behind Buffy.

Drusilla.

He felt a pang in his heart not expecting to see her. He felt like a lout to almost forgetting how sensual and beautiful his 'black beauty' was.

A frown settled over his mouth as he watched Drusilla's eyes shift from him to the back of Buffy's head. He felt a bit panicked, unsure what his 'wild card' would do.

No! No! No! No! Spike looked back at Oz, wanting him to rush through the guitar solo and finish the song, so he could intervene as Drusilla stood from the chair and walked over to Buffy.

Spike's eyes widen as Drusilla stood from the chair.

Buffy sat at the table totally unaware.

As soon as the song was finished, Spike jumped off the stage and raced towards Buffy and Drusilla.

The crowds stepped in his way.

"Bloody hell, move!" Spike pushed between dancing couples annoyed by everyone's inherent way of stepping into his path.

"Buffy," Spike said her name with a bit too much emphasis. He grabbed her hand and pulled her up to her feet, just as Drusilla approached.

Thinking quickly, "Dance with me," Spike wrapped an arm around Buffy's back and stepped her away from Drusilla and entangled them into the crowd on the dance floor.

Buffy eyed him strangely, finding his behaviour a bit more eccentric than usual, "Are you okay?"

Spike held his hand at her lower back, pulling her close, "Of course, why wouldn't I be? Did you see those gits faces?"

"I did," she nodded. "They were very... expressionless."

"I take that as a good sign," Spike smirked.

Thankful for a slower song, Buffy smiled at him softly and stepped closer into his body. She placed a hand on his shoulder and the other on his back. Spike fell into the depths of her green eyes, forgetting about Drusilla.

"This is nice," Buffy said, breaking the silent tension between them.

Spike touched her cheek tenderly.

"Spike, I just want you to know—" his finger hushed her, touching her lips.

"I don't want to talk now. I just want to dance with you."

Buffy laid her head over his chest, enjoying the quiet dance but she couldn't shake the need inside of her to tell him what was on her mind, "Spike," she lifted her head and watched as he began to much to hush her once more. She shook her head, "No, please, let me just say this…"

Spike relented and waited for her to tell him what was on her mind.

"I'm sorry." She let out a breath. "I know I haven't been the easiest since… well, everything. And you've been so patient and supportive…" Buffy pushed back her love for Angelus, placing him deep into the back of her mind, just like how she had done with Spike. Her hands were flat on his chest. Buffy lifted her eyes to Spike's face and said, "It's only you that I want. That I'll always want. I love you."

Spike threaded his fingers into her hair and gradually leaned in close.

Their noses touched.

"And you're the only one I'll ever want." He whispered, linger close over her lips. "For the rest of my life, I'll be in love with you."

He smiled gently as she closed the minuscule space between their mouths.

Buffy didn't expect to easily fall into his soft kiss as she did. It felt good to kiss someone again that was in love with her. His kisses were familiar and gentle. She knew that he held back the passion inside of him, thinking that it would scare her off.

The hand cupping his cheek slid up over his ear and into his platinum blonde hair. She pressed herself close into his front and became increasingly aware of the growing pregnant belly between them.

Breaking the kiss, Buffy and Spike pressed their foreheads together and looked down at the belly between them. Their eyes met and a large smile flashed across their faces.

Apartment

Master Bedroom

Clothing was thrown haphazardly across the bedroom floor.

Moans of pleasure filled the bedroom.

Laying underneath his wife, Spike held his hands over her hips, watching her as she moved rhythmically over him. Her eyes were shut, her breaths were heavy, her head thrown back taking pleasure in his body.

Spike moaned close to his climax, but he desperately held his control, wanting her to reach the peak of her pleasure first.

Dropping his eyes down to her round belly, Spike rubbed a hand over her smooth skin.

Shifting to sit up, Spike pressed his lips against her belly then wrapped a muscular arm around her waist.

With his other hand, Spike cupped the back of her neck and kissed her lips. "Open your eyes." He whispered. "Look at me, Buffy."

Buffy pressed her forehead to his. She did not stop rolling her hips wanting to reach that peak of ecstasy.

She opened her eyes and her breath hitched in her throat to see the man she longed for staring right back at her.

Angel, Buffy hooked an arm around Spike's neck, holding him close.

Spike frowned. Even in the dark, Spike could see her green eyes moisten and shine with happiness and an abundance of love.

Her hand held his face and then slid into his hair.

Brushing her fallen tear away, Spike pinched his brows together. There was a look in her eyes that he's never seen before. It was passionate and yet, heartbreaking, but he wasn't sure why.

"Buffy…"

The deep Irish brogue voice of her deceased husband rattled into her ears. Buffy's heart pounded in her chest. A jolt of relief and happiness shot through her entire body to have him back in her arms again.

My Angel, Buffy rolled her hips harder.

Spike felt the air in his lung be sucked out from his body as the realisation set. His heart snapped in half because his wife wasn't emotionally here with him anymore. The words of love she had previously whispered into his ear were only just words. When she looked at him, Buffy wasn't seeing him, but her dead lover. Buffy was no longer his.

A minute later, Buffy cried out in pleasure as she came.

Her breath was ridged and heavy. Slowly, she came back down and closed her eyes still picturing Angelus in her mind. She imagined him taking her into his arms and holding her tightly for the rest of the night, keeping her warm and safe.

Buffy opened her eyes again and it felt as if her heart stopped in shock. It wasn't Angelus she was with but Spike. Internally, she felt as if her heart was being shredded again, remembering that Angelus was dead and in the past and she was back in the future with someone else.

She tried to cover the look of surprise and disappointment from her expression, but it was too late, Spike had already read her mind as they made love.

Sound asleep, Spike watched her. His counted the breaths she took and studied the lines of her face. He wanted to touch her plump bottom lip that was somewhat swollen from their kisses. But Spike refrained.

He refrained all of his impulses he would've acted upon only a few years before.

Tonight changed things, he decided. Unfortunately, the change was not in his favour. He wanted her back. He wanted her to be his and only his. She didn't need to whisper the other man's name to know that was who she thought about as they made love. Or who she thinks about most hours the day.

Spike watched the corners of her mouth twitch slightly upwards. Gutted, he wondered if she dreamt about him. Having the baby—their baby with this other man, living the perfect 'happily ever after'.

Buffy rolled away from him, onto her other side.

Spike stared at her naked back for a moment and swallowed needing a cigarette.

Sitting up in the bed, Spike swung his legs over the side of the bed and got up. He searched for his jeans and a T-shirt. He threw on a red button-down shirt and left it open.

Walking over to the master bedroom door, Spike looked back at his sleeping wife for a moment. He couldn't help but think how gorgeous she was; his 'blonde goddess'. But it was ever clear that she didn't love him. Not anymore.

Twisting the bedroom door open, Spike quietly closed it and carefully walked down the hallway to the front door, careful not to wake his sleeping wife.

Across town in the middle of the night, Spike waited for one of the apartment occupants to leave. He stepped in, blocking the door from closing with his arm.

He shook off the pain of the door slamming into his forearm and ran up the stairs to the familiar apartment he spent most nights for the last six and a half months.

Raising a hand, Spike gently knocked on the wooden door.

A minute passed until the apartment occupant opened the door.

Leaning against the door, wearing only a silk blood-red nightgown and dark hair over her shoulders and down her back, Drusilla pursed her red lipstick lips together in a forming smile. She cocked a highbrow, not at all surprised to see him standing at her doorstep.

Unable to contain his desperate need to have her again and the frustration and sadness he felt for losing his Buffy, Spike cupped a hand around the back of Drusilla's head and crushed his mouth to hers in a searing and passionate kiss.

He stepped them back into the apartment, with the heel of his boot, Spike kicked the apartment door closed.

1753

Dingle Harbour

Tavern

"People come 'ere for all sorts of reasons. My reasons? It started wi' a lass."

Angelus sat at the Tavern bar, playing with the bottle of whisky sitting in front of him. He chuckled drunkenly.

He looked up at the barman and slapped his hand over the wooden counter, turning the barman's attention.

"She was a really-really handsome lass. Nay, she-she was a very-very beautiful lass," he slurred. "She-she had—I mean—her hair was… Ye know?—Ye kind of remind me of her. Because-because—ye know—the hair. I mean—the hair," Angelus looked at the long-bearded barman.

The barman dried his hands with a towel staring at Angelus unamused.

Hearing a group of rowdy men behind him, Angelus looked over his shoulder to the group. His dark eyes followed the attractive bar wenches pass him heading over to the group. Their breasts hung overtop their corsets. The skirts around their waists were partially tied up. The women's hair was messy and fell over their shoulders in a tangled heap.

One of the men stepped up to the bar and leaned on the wooden top. "T'eir pints are on me," his dark slick back long hair was tied in a ponytail. The shirt and cravat he wore used to be white at one time, not it was stained turning it into an almost grey colour.

Angelus flashed a board smile at the man beside him. He drunkenly held his chin in his hand and slurred, "Girls are nice." He laughed.

The man tossed Angelus a look of disgust and annoyance.

"Good payday?" the barman slid the change to the man beside Angelus.

"Aye, we're havin' a bit of a brouhaha."

The barman smiled, "Sláinte (Health)."

The man walked back to the group laughing and overly cheerful for their positive business day at the peninsula port.

Walking out with the women heading towards the back alleyway to have their money's worth, Angelus straightened up in the chair. No longer laughing or acting a fool, Angelus followed the men out.

Alleyway

The night hair was crisp and it smelt like saltwater.

The group of men that partied in the Tavern hide in the darkness as the women they purchased 'serviced' them.

A tall man that went by the name, Charles had a clean handsome face. He looked to be the ringleader of the group.

He stood against the brick building. His head rested back, eyes were closed, and mouth agape. He smiled as the woman on her knees in front of him worked his cock.

Drunk Angelus stumbled into the alley and caught himself as he knocked into one of the men having animalistic sex with one of the whores. "Oye! Watch where ye're goin'!" The man shouted at Angelus.

Angelus frowned at the man then turned his eyes to the woman, and looked back at the man, "'Scuse me." He faced the group that were too busy with their paid women, "Has anybody seen my horse? It's big and it's black and it's this tall," he held a hand over his head.

"Piss off!" If the men shouted over his shoulder and resumed pounding his cock into the woman bent over, bracing herself by her hands against the brick wall.

The assumed ringleader opened his eyes and took notice to the drunk dark-haired man walking up to each of his men, bothering them.

Silently, he patted the woman's head and tucked himself back into his breeches.

Charles walked over towards Angelus and grasped his arm, whirling the drunk man around to face him.

Unsteadily, Angelus stood straight, staring at the man.

"Ye seem not to realise when ye're not welcome, lad," Charles tossed Angelus a patronising smirk.

Angelus leaned back, "Uhh, did somethin' die in yer mouth?"

The frown on Charles' face deepened. He narrowed his gaze recognising the drunk man from earlier in the day. They had made a deal of whisky with him and his crew. But what the drunk man didn't know, Charles had cheated him from the deal. He had a buyer up the coast that was going to pay more for the shipment.

"Oh," Charles sat back wearing a slick grin, "I remember ye. I sold ye whiskey barrels today."

Angelus narrowed his gaze over the man, "Hm, was I 'ere?"

Charles looked back at his men and chuckled, "Aye, ye were t'ere."

Slowly, Angelus nodded thinking for a moment when he suddenly snapped his fingers, "Oh, I know ye… Ye were the bastards t'at sold me short."

"I don't know what ye're talkin' about, lad." He laughed and looked back at the men, who were also laughing.

When Charles turned back to Angelus, he was suddenly swept into Angelus' fists. A hand grabbed the front of his shirt and tugged him forward as Angelus' knee drove into the man's face.

Angelus dropped Charles to the ground and stood over him. He stood tall, adjusting the front of his black leather farmers trench coat collar. He reached into his pocket for a handkerchief and wiped the blood from his hands, "Aye, I remember ye well, Mr Charles Lucas." Angelus said as sober as day. "Ye cheated me. And now, I'm goin' to make ye pay. At t'is moment as we speak, my men are on yer ship takin' t'a stock we had agreed upon, plus a bonus for our wayward troubles."

Bleeding from his nose, Charles looked up to his men, silently ordering them to run back to the ship.

Angelus chuckled, "Aye, go back. But I warn ye, ye'll be greeted wi' brut violence. If ye're man enough, I dare ye to go and seek a fight t'at will only end in yer blood spilt on t'a floors of yer handsome ship."

Charles men raced back to the ship just as Angelus' men emerged from the shadows, ambushing the men. The fight did not last long as most were knocked out or severely wounded.

Looking back down at the man at his feet, Angelus grabbed the front of the man's shirt and pulled him back up to his feet and smashed his back into the brick wall. "Did ye really t'ink I'd wouldn't notice a light load, lad?" He waited a moment for a reply then punched Charles in the eye. "Did ye take me for a fool?" Angelus punched Charles again in the face growing angrier.

Doyle walked over to the fight, carefully approaching his old friend. Ever since Buffy left him, things haven't been right with Angelus. He lashed more than ever. He closed himself off and stayed recluse. Angelus preferred sitting by alone, drinking whiskey's by the bottles until he couldn't stand anymore. There was an unbearable amount of anger and hatred in his heart. He was unable to control his wildly different emotions.

Wesley watched from the background as Doyle bravely approached a raging Angelus beating up the man that had shorted him to a bloody pulp.

"Ní bheidh aon mheas agat orm arís (You will not disrespect me again)!" Angelus roared, channelling his hurt and anger into the man that wronged him. "Ní bheidh tú bréag dom arís (You will not lie to me again)!"

"Angelus," Doyle said his friends name firmly.

In mid-air, Angelus' fist was held back ready to pound into the bleeding man's face once more. Charles's face was battered and swollen. He leaned his head forward on Angelus' chest, weakened by the severe beating.

"lig dó imeacht (Let him go)," Doyle said.

Angelus removed his hand, dropping the beaten man to the ground with a thud. His dark brows hung over his seemingly deadened eyes. He spat at the man on the ground, curled in a ball crying in pain.

Turning away from Charles, Angelus shot daggers in Doyle and Wesley's direction.

"Clean up t'is mess," he ordered and began to walk away.

Doyle tossed Wesley a knowing gaze, they needed to do something before Angelus kills someone. His anger was becoming increasingly out of control and aberrant.

Pushing between Doyle and Wesley, Lindsey raced to catch up with Angelus.

The two men still standing in the background watched as Angelus held out his hand forcing Lindsey to pause mid-step. the words Angelus spoke were unheard.

Lindsey stood still watching Angelus continue to walk on alone.

Song Used: "Angel" by Ghost Of The Robot 2003