Ok.... I've been talked into it. Here we go. MINE! 3.

Buffy sniffled once, and pouted, grabbing Mr. Gordo to her little body. Her little crown drooped over one eyebrow, and tears pooled in her lovely green eyes.

"I wanna go." Screwing up her mouth and snuffling monstrously again, she glared at her mother.

"Buffy, sweethear- Princess." Joyce attempted to placate. "You're sick. You can't go out till you're all better."

Buffy's little hand swiped across her equally little nose. "No I'm not. I wanna go to th' park." Another sniffle. "Now."

Joyce sighed. But for Buffy's temperature, she probably would have given in and taken her to the park by now. Frowning at her baby girl, she placed her hand on Buffy's forehead. Thank God. The fever had gone down considerably since the night before.Her eyes weren't as glassy either.

"Mommy, I feel tons better. And I prom'se. I prom'se to play nice. An', an' not push." Another steadfast look from Mr. Gordo. "He says I should go."

"Mr. Gordo thinks you should go, hmmm?"

Buffy nodded emphatically, shaking her stuffed pig up and down for emphasis. "What would Will'um do without me? What if someone says s'mthin' mean 'bout his funny talk?"

"Accent." Joyce was trying to softly hammer the word into Buffy's head. While the Elliot's weren't offended by her daughters terminology for the way they spoke, other people might be.

Buffy crunched up her nose, tilted her head. The crown slipped a few more centimeters over her forehead. "Ass-kent."

"Yes. And if someone makes fun of his accent, William can handle it on his own."

Buffy's bottom lip trembled, and large tears welled in her eyes. "I WANNA SEE WILL'UM!!!" Her voice cracked a bit, and Joyce was afraid she'd make herself hoarse.

Will'um scouted the area carefully. The mouthy brunette who said "Poophead" was pushing someone off a swing. There! There was a blonde in Buffy's sandbox.

Trooping over, he pushed his sandy brown hair out of his face, and the smile fell as he saw that it wasn't her.

The last week, they had become friends. Granted, friends who beated up eachother occasionally, but... still friends. An' Buffy was his princess. He made sure she was ok. An' he pushed her on the swings. And she even played trucks with him. But Buffy wasn't here today.

Will'um gnawed on his bottom lip. Where was she? Walking straight past his astonished Mum, he parked his little jean-clad bum at the park entrance.

Lydia was beside him in an instant. "Just what exactly do you think you're doing, William Elliot? It's not safe to do things like that!" Looking at him sternly, her face demanded an explanation.

"I'm waitin' for Buffy. She's not here. An' she's *always* here. An' she said we'd play tucks today, an'... an'... She's not here!"

Lydia sighed, and picked up her son, cuddling him for a moment. Soon enough he wasn't going to want hugs at all. She walked quickly to Buffy's sandbox, which had been vacated. Plopping him down, she placed his trucks at his feet.

"Why don't you play trucks by yourself for a little bit, and we'll see if Buffy shows up. Maybe she's just a little late today."

He pouted. "All right."

Moving back to her bench, Lydia kept a close eye on her son, noticing how tall he was getting already. He was so adorable. Absolutely doting on his Buffy.

Buffy pouted. "No."

"Buffy, take the medicine."

Clenching her teeth, eyes closed tightly, she shook her head defiantly. "MM-pphhh."

Joyce sighed, sat defeatedly on her daughter's bed. "Wanna make a deal?"

Buffy squinted one eye open.

Knowing she had her daughter's attention, she moved in. "You take the medicine... And we can go to the park. If. If."

Buffy nodded.

"If you sit quietly, and don't rustle around. You need to rest."

Buffy stood on her bed, jumped up and down, her crown falling from her head. "Park!! Yay!!"

"Buffy!" Joyce sounded sharply. Buffy dropped back to the bed. Opened her mouth obediently.

Giving her the teaspoon of medicine, she grinned at Buffy's scrunched up 'gross' face, and picked her up. Swinging her in a slow half circle, she set her on her feet in front of her wardrobe. "What do you think you want to wear?"

"Blue. And flowers."

Nodding, she pulled out her daughter a pair of blue jeans, and a pink shirt with little flowers. Slipping her into it, Joyce brushed out her hair, parted it carefully, and pulled it into pigtails at either side of her head.

Hand-in-hand mother and daughter made their way to the park, Mr. Gordo tucked under Buffy's arm like a security blanket.

Feeling a shadow fall over him, Will'um looked up.

A pale faced Buffy smiled at him, holding her mother's hand. "Hi, Will'um."

Will'um grinned. "'Ello, Buffy!" He extended a new red car. "Wanna play trucks?"

Buffy looked at her mom entreatingly.

Nodding, Joyce set her daughter softly in the sand. "Not too much fussing. And don't get rowdy." She looked at William. "Buffy isn't feeling well, William. We have to do our best to make sure she isn't playing too hard, all right?"

He looked at Buffy. Nodded seriously. "She'll be all right. I'll take care of her."

Slowly moving his truck through the sand, Will'um glanced up at her through his eyelashes. Her nose was all pink, but the rest of her was kinda white.

"Buffy?"

She puttered her own car through a sand-made valley. "*sniff* Huh?"

"Are you ok?"

She nodded at him, little blond pigtails bouncing. "My mommy thinks I'm sick. But Mr. Gordo told her I wasn't." She patted the pig, who was sitting beside her, giving her seemingly adoring looks.

Will'um nodded seriously. "I see."

They had been playing for a little while when Buffy yawned. Swiping at her nose again, she said sleepily, "I'm gonna take a nap."

Will'um watched her lay down, cuddling to Mr. Gordo. As she drifted off, giving her little body the rest it needed, Will'um slid off his summer coat, and laid it over her.

Gathering his things, he moved a few steps closer to Buffy, sitting down by her head, he played trucks ever so quietly, watching her sleep.

As she dreamed, one pigtail drooping over one closed eye, a small frown took over face. There was something bad in her dream, and he was going to get her. One hand drifted off Mr. Gordo, to clutch gently at Will'um's pantleg.

Seeing the frown marring her face, Will'um put his trucks down, and patted Buffy's head softly, almost petting her.

In her mind, the bad thing slowly faded away, leaving Buffy to play with the ponies in her palace.

And with his sandy brown hair shining in the California sunshine, Will'um resumed his quiet game of trucks. He would take care of her.

End. Part Three.

Any more Buffy/ Spike baby ideas? Huh? Gimme gimme. :) Anyway, PLEASE Review. I love it. Um... Own nothing. WHAT THE HECK IS JOSS DOING!?!? *pats Spike* Poor hunni. He needs blood and marshmallows.

Always.

Tequila Sunrise