Not Invincible
by
Princess McPhee
Disclaimer: Not mine. Joss Whedon and David Greenwalt aren't me. Not even the right gender. So, therefore, I don't own.
Author's Note: Ideas from just about every Angel or Spike fic on the planet. So, if an idea very closely resembles yours, please don't take offense.
Chapter Note: Okay! This is it, folks. The final chapter. Sorry it took so long, but... yeah, I don't really have an excuse, it just did. But it's over, now. There is, however, a sequel in the works, so review and let me know if you'd like to see it. Thanks to all the fans I've gathered working on this piece.
Summary: Spike goes to Angel, after Buffy beats up on him the latest time. ('Dead Things') AU from there.
Rating: R
Chapter Eight
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The days seem to get shorter as Spike settles in, and I go to a place of contentment unusual for me. I've been here before, with Buffy, but it seems like so long ago... it's odd to have it back.
Cordelia worries that I don't think enough about my soul, but really, it's on my mind every minute of the day. So far, Spike and I have limited our sexual encounters to cheering each other up when we're upset-- but it's getting harder with every passing day. He's actually been good about not being deliberately provocative, but he's Spike. He oozes sex with every breath that he doesn't actually need to take.
Connor gets bigger every day, and I think Spike is falling in love with him. More often that not, when they're together, Spike is talking baby-talk and Connor is cooing and laughing his little baby laugh. Wesley even commented that they look good together. Spike did say that he liked Dawn. I think maybe he genuinely likes children.
A few weeks after our last talk about him staying, he disappeared again. I worried all night long, but didn't go out after him. I needed to show him my trust, and he was a big vampire, as Cordelia put it. Sure enough, he was back five minutes before sunrise, covered in demon blood and high on the fight. I cleaned him up and put him to bed, and from then on, he's been leaving periodically to fight demons on random nights.
He needs the release-- Spike always did need violence in his life. Now that he can't attack humans, it's carried over to what he can attack. He refuses adamantly to come with me and the rest of AI on our patrols, though. I'm not sure if he's more afraid Gunn will put a stake through his heart when he's not looking, or I'll get the 'wrong impression' that he's a white hat. I tend to think it's the latter. Spike likes to kill demons, but he does it for the kill. He doesn't do it because it's the right thing to do, and he doesn't want me to ever forget that.
Rarely do we go out on the same nights, but it's been known to happen. Not during regular patrol, because then somebody has to stay home with Connor, but sometimes if Spike disappears and I have a similar need to destroy something, I'll leave Connor with one of my partners and disappear in the opposite direction. I haven't run into Spike yet, but I suppose it was bound to happen, sooner or later.
"Well, hello, mate." He saunters out of the alley where he was crouching, ready to pounce on whoever went by next, and kisses me quickly. "What are you doing out here?"
I shrug. "Blowing off steam. Didn't know I'd run into you."
He smirks. "Yeah, I figured, by the surprised look in your eye when you caught my scent."
Well, that's good. At least Spike doesn't think I was following him because I don't trust him, or something.
"Wasn't counting on running into you," I tell him honestly.
He continues to smirk. "Yeah. Said that already, Peaches." He takes off down the sidewalk, his movements the stalk of a predator, confident in its superiority. I follow him.
"Is it okay if I join you for tonight?" I ask, unsure of my welcome on his little informal patrols.
He nods, and looks at me. "Always welcome, Angel. Just not the rest of your little crew."
Curious, my brow furrows. "Why?" I ask.
"Can't keep up. Get in the way. Don't want a stake shoved through my back." I also hear what he doesn't say-- if you're alone then you're just another guy, blowing off steam. If you're with your crew, you're a white hat on a mission.
He continues. "Learned a long time ago not to go patrolling with humans. Always ends badly."
I feel compelled to defend the rest of the AI group, but there's no fire in my voice as I respond. "They can take care of themselves."
He shrugs. "Sure. They probably can. But they're not fighters, Angel. They can protect themselves, maybe get in an occasional lucky shot. Maybe your boy Gunn has more than that. It's different, though. We're predators. We have the sight, the hearing, the gut instinct..."
I nod, understanding more than I wish I did. "I know."
A cruel smile carves its way across Spike's face, and he drops into an unconscious battle stance. "Like... right now." Something big, blue and ugly drops from the roof of the building in front of us onto the sidewalk and bares its claws, and Spike grins and dashes towards it, body moving in a spinning kick before he even reaches the creature.
I merely watch him for a moment, stunned by the precision with which Spike fights. He's very light on his feet, and his size makes him faster than me. The movements he executes are almost too quick to follow, and he has the blue thing on its back in less than a minute. Pulling his sword from the sheath on his back, he grins and slams it home, then looks up at me, breathing hard.
"What, didn't want to get your froofy silk shirt gunky, Peaches?" He asks.
I smile and shake my head, knowing not to take his insults too seriously by now. "Just watching you work."
He leers. "Like what you saw?"
I nod slowly. "A little more than is good for either one of us."
The smirk drops from his face as he contemplates another night of him and his right hand. I'm disappointed, too, but it's not as bad as being alone. That's the one thing we permit ourselves-- watching each other jerk off, and it's better than nothing.
He shrugs. "Comes with dating a cursed guy, I guess. You'd think I'd have better taste."
I shrug back. "You'd think so."
He looks at me with genuine love and affection in his eyes, and I cross the distance between us in three broad steps. "I love you, William." He doesn't respond except to raise his head and receive my kiss, and we stand there for a few long moments after our lips have separated, just looking into each others' eyes.
A quick movement in the corner of my vision keys me back into hunting mode instantly, and I tense. Spike feels it and pulls away, turning slowly to assess the situation. As soon as he sees what we're facing, the sword he dropped earlier is in his hand, and his casual on guard pose is elevated to a tense, hyper-alert state of readiness.
The creature looks the same as the one I just watched Spike slay, and I stand ready to fight it, if it's come to avenge its mate. I've fought many, many demons that weren't happy about me killing their significant others, and the most savage demon is truly one who has just lost something dear to it.
At first, though, the blue thing seems peaceful. Moaning in a low, anguished tone, it walks up to its departed companion and drops to its knees. Bowing its head, it touches the slashed body of the first demon, making low noises of pain in the back of its throat. I almost feel sorry for it, but then I remember that the first demon jumped out at Spike-- there wasn't anything self-defense-like about it.
Suddenly, the thing straightens, and turns to face us, the low moans become growls. I back up, pulling Spike with me. He doesn't fight, for once in his unlife, and we retreat until we are clear of the alley. No use in fighting boxed-in, when there's this whole nice street to battle a blue demon in full public view on. Luckily, there are few people out at this hour, and I don't see any in the immediate area.
Apparently the thing can smell the blood of its mate on Spike, or maybe it just took an instant dislike to him, I don't know, but it lunges first at my childe. Spike is small and sometimes lacks the brawn necessary for really large jobs-- but he's quick and he can fight like nothing else. He doesn't even have to move very quickly to duck under the slashing claws coming at us.
I let the claws pass me by, too, and grab the wrist of the demon thing as it rears back to strike again. Reaching back over my head, I unsheathe the sword quickly and make a jab at the center of the creature. I hit my target-- but it doesn't seem to do anything but make the thing mad. As it moves to hit me with the other set of claws, I have to let go of the one I was holding onto so that I can duck the new swing.
Suddenly, it rears up and yells. Spike, idiot childe that he is, has jumped on the back of the thing and is wrestling it like that crocodile hunter on the television show I will never admit I've watched. He's grinning madly and has one arms around the thing's throat, while he gears up to make a strike at its relatively unprotected belly, exposed by the beast's arms being busy trying to knock my childe off its neck.
The thing lurches forward towards me, and I drop back into a battle stance as Spike swings the sword wildly and misses more than he hits. The glancing blows he deals are no accidents-- he's playing with his prey. But right now, I have more to worry about than the fact that my childe is taking out his more sadistic tendencies on the demons he eventually kills.
Grabbing for me, it just barely misses, and I duck under huge meaty arms, beating a hasty retreat. "Spike!" It's a warning to him that it's time to get serious, and the message seems to get through, because he lets go of the huge blue neck he's been holding tenaciously onto all this time, and swings his sword in front of him.
He grins at me, and I scowl. "Spike," I growl, but he just grins.
"Later, Peaches. Right now, there's a huge-ass ugly blue wanker that's just asking to be skewered." With that, he makes a headlong dash for the thing's back, sword firmly in front of him.
I sigh, and for an instant, my guard drops. Moving faster than I thought it could, the thing grabs at me. Searing pain erupts across my chest and stomach, and I double over for a second. Seeing that it's weakened me, the blue beast moves to him me again.
Spike brings his sword down on the thing's arm, and it cleanly severs. I stand up once more, nodding to him to indicate that I'm alright, and he nods back. The thing is clutching the stump of its arm in agony, but it clearly isn't done for, yet, and it comes at us once again.
I see Spike start to circle behind it, and as it can't seem to decide where to look, I bend my knees and start to move my sword towards it. Taking me as the more immediate danger, it focuses its total attention on me, letting Spike make the critical fatal move.
Unfortunately, the thing is also stronger than it has let on so far, and it swipes the sword out of my hand in one blow from the remaining arms. Then it comes at me, claws extended, and plunges the sharp things into my stomach instead of just raking them across like last time.
Spike makes the killing blow at the back of the thing's head then, and it drops dead. Unfortunately, its claws are still in me, and as it falls over backwards, yanking them from my wounded flesh, I groan in agony and collapse. Spike is by my side in an instant.
"Angel? Angel, are you okay?"
My vision is blurry from the pain, but it's coming slowly back. It hurts like hell, but I'll be okay, since I seem to still have my head and heart. I try to nod, but break it off abortively, wincing.
Spike sees my effort to communicate, and relaxes minutely. "Alright. Don't try to talk right now, I think you probably punctured a lung. Just lie still until you feel you can, okay?"
Vampire blood is thick, and coagulates faster. That, in turn, means that we clot much faster, and then scab much faster than humans. As long as the blow dealt to my lung isn't huge, it will close over within a couple of minutes.
Spike sits with me as I try to master the pain. It's not that I couldn't move if I had to-- I've relocated despite worse pain than this, but Spike's not about to let me, and with him here to protect me, there's no reason to. Not until the pain subsides a bit, at least.
After a few minutes, I take a short breath, testing it out. There's a sharp pain in my stomach when my lungs fill with air and displace the scabbing wounds, but I wince and continue through it. "I'm okay, Spike."
He nods. "Yeah. Lie still, okay?" He fishes a cell phone out of his pocket and flips it on. Dialing somebody, he waits.
"Yeah. Cordy, it's me." Pause. "Angel's hurt." Another pause, and this time I can hear something loud from the speaker of the phone. "Naw, he'll be okay. Can you send somebody with a car to get us, though?"
Apparently Cordy can send the vehicle, because Spike says good-bye and hangs up a moment later, after relaying our address and confirming to her once more, that yes, I will live.
We only sit there for a few moments before Gunn and Wes pull up with my convertible. Spike heaves me to my feet as soon as he sees them coming around the corner, and we walk slowly to the curb, arriving just as they get there. Gunn steps out of the passenger seat and Spike settles me painfully in, then he and Gunn climb into the rear.
"Hey, you okay man?" Gunn asks, and I nod slightly.
"I'll be fine. You've seen how fast I heal."
When we arrive at the hotel, Cordy and Fred are waiting, the latter with my son in her hands. "Angel?" Cordy asks.
Spike, exasperated, rolls his eyes. "Yes, he'll be fine. No, he's not fine at the moment. Go get the first-aid kit, will you?"
Not even taking the time to snark back at Spike like she usually would, Cordelia disappears into the bathroom where we keep the first-aid kit. When she comes back, she and Spike clean the wounds as best as they're able to and bandage them. Spike's frowning as he sits back on his heels, though, and I question.
"What's wrong?"
Spike shakes his head. "Those wounds will take a while to heal. They're deep, Angel."
I groan. "I know. I can feel them."
"I want you lying down, flat on your back, for a day." His tone is somewhere in-between ordering and asking, and he has concern in his eyes. I roll mine.
"Spike, I get hurt a lot. I'll know when I can be up again."
Cordy chimes in, there. "No you don't! You're always going out again and re-opening things!" Her tone softens. "Listen to him, Angel. For your son. You can't be going out and fighting at half-strength, you might not come back."
I sigh, and nod. "Okay. Okay. One day, flat on my back. For Connor." I look at my childe. "And Spike."
He grins. "And three days home."
I sigh again. "Fine."
"And no going out alone for a week."
"Don't push it."
He laughs. "Yeah, alright. I'll be happy with what I've managed to get." He offers a hand and I pull myself up on his strong arm, draping mine over his shoulder.
The walk up the stairs is painful and slow, and at least a couple of the wounds reopen, but I've insisted that if I'm going to be lying down for a whole day, it be on a bed, not a couch, and where I can keep and eye on Connor at night.
Spike sighs in frustration as we sit down on the edge of the bed and he sees the red stripes crossing the bandages. "Sit. Stay." He orders, and disappears, probably to get the first-aid kit.
When he comes back, he re-does the bandages and lays me down on the bed, offering, amazingly out of character as it is for him, to get me anything I need. I shake my head. "I'm fine, Spike. I get wounded all the time, it'll heal."
He nods, and I see something in his eyes that I can't quite identify. "I know."
"Come sleep with me?"
"I don't want to hurt you."
"Spike, you sleep like the dead. No pun intended. But honestly, you never move in your sleep."
He nods. "Yeah. Okay. I'll get Connor put to bed, and then I'll come lay down, okay?"
I nod, and he disappears out the door again.
When did my childe turn into this responsible vampire that I'm sure he would have hated just a few weeks ago?
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I sleep all of the first night and into the morning, thanks to Fred taking Connor downstairs when he wakes up at six-thirty. Spike, true to form, is draped all over me when I awake around eleven. I only told a teeny fib last night because I wanted him to sleep in the bed with me... it's not horribly wrong, is it? And what the hell do I care if it's wrong for?
I lie silently in the bed for quite a while before Spike stirs. He opens his eyes groggily and takes in his position, then rolls off me. "Sorry, mate."
"It's fine."
He narrows his eyes as he wakes up a little. "Hey, didn't you tell me that I don't move in my sleep?"
I shrug. "I told a little white lie to get you to stay. Is that so bad?" From the eyes that narrow even further and the lines that criss-cross his brow, you'd think so.
I sigh. "You didn't hurt me, I promise." I pull down the covers and show him the bandages, still white, on my stomach and chest. "I wanted you here."
He nods slowly, accepting at last. "Yeah, okay." The tension leaves his body and he snuggles up to my side, albeit much more carefully than usual. "How are you?"
"Fine. I'll be good as new in a couple days, and they're already entirely scabbed over."
There's a knock on the door then, and I sit up a little, ignoring Spike's protests. "Come in!"
Cordy opens the door and almost immediately averts her gaze. "Put a shirt on, Angel!"
I laugh. "It didn't bother you last night," I point out.
"You were all bleeding and in need of help last night!" She says indignantly. "It's different now that you're not getting blood all over everything and moaning in pain."
I take the shirt Spike hands me and pull it over my head painfully. "Alright. I'm covered, Cordy."
She turns back and continues as if we'd never had our little disagreement about what constituted 'covered,' and points a finger at us. "Your son won't shut up," She tells me.
"Cordy!"
"What? It's true."
I roll my eyes. "Well, we're awake. You want to bring him up here so we can see if he just wants to visit with Spike or me?"
She frowns, and settles into a thinking pose. "Are you sure you want your son to see you in bed with another vampire?"
"Cordy!"
"What?"
"He's five months old. It won't scar him because he'll have no idea that what he's looking at is anything other than totally typical, and he won't even remember it by the time he turns two."
She hmmphs. "Well, if you want to be all logical, Mr. Vulcan..."
Spike laughs, and I frown. "Cordy, I have no idea who you're talking about." She opens her mouth to explain, and I continue right over the top of her. "And I don't really want to know. Can I see my son?"
Stomping a little, she disappears to get Connor.
Spike grins at me. "You did sound a little like Mr. Spock, oh Soulful one."
"Spike. I don't watch television, remember? You've been yelling at me about it since you got here. I have no idea who Mr. Spock is."
Spike shrugs. "Well, you know he was on television. That's a start."
I raise an eyebrow, not believing Spike is going to leave it at that, but so far, he does. Cordy appears in the doorway with Connor, crying weakly. He sounds like he's tired himself out.
When she sets him in my arms, he opens his eyes to see who it is and then goes right back to crying. I rock him and shush him and talk to him, but it's to no avail. Spike leans over and takes him and tries everything I did, then gets up and starts to pace with him, something that usually works, but he still cries.
Exasperated, Spike returns to the bed to sit next to me, and looks down at his 'brother.' "You're just not going to be quiet, are you?" He asks, and Connor screws up his face and wails louder.
I sigh. "Put him down on the bed. Maybe he's just tired."
Spike scrunches his face in a look remarkably similar to my son's. "Are you sure he'll be okay on the bed? The blankets could smother him."
I nod. "He'll be fine. We're both here to keep an eye on him."
Reluctantly, Spike lays him down on the sheet in between us and pulls the covers away from him to make sure he doesn't suffocate. I lean back on the pillows and turn slowly onto my better side-- I don't really have a good side at the moment, but one can actually be lain on at the moment, while the other can't-- and pull his tiny body to my chest.
Spike lies down on Connor's other side and we both close our eyes, hoping, I think, that he will just decide to fall asleep and shut up.
Amazingly, he does just that. I open my eyes, surprised at the sudden quiet, and find myself looking into Spike's shockingly blue ones. Both of us turn our eyes to the infant, who is now lying contentedly on his back, eyes half-closed in a doze. I am pressed up against him gently on one side, and Spike has rested a delicate hand on his stomach.
After a moment, his eyelids fall all the way shut, and we both watch as his breathing evens out into sleep. Spike looks back up at me and grins. "Will you look at that?" He says. "Lil' Nip just wanted his daddies."
He realizes what he said a moment later.
"I mean, his daddy. And his big brother, who is going to be referred to as an uncle as soon as he gets old enough to talk." He's uncomfortable, and talking too fast.
I wait in the silence for a moment, my mind racing. Do I want to encourage Spike to think of my son as his, too? I know I want him to stay, but he's always had a rather mercurial personality-- there's no guarantee how long he can stand Los Angeles, regardless of how much he loves us. Will Connor grow attached to him, only to lose him when he decides there isn't enough for him here? And most importantly-- can I share that position in my son's life?
A sudden clarity descends on me. I realize that whether I encourage it or not, Spike will consider Connor a son. It's clear that he already does. And though he has a restless nature, when my childe makes attachments, he makes them fully. He stayed with Drusilla for a hundred and twenty years-- if he truly loves Connor, he will never betray him.
And if I don't let Spike call Connor his son, will it really make any difference to the boy when he gets older? If I let Spike become a fixture in Connor's life, will it really hurt him less if he doesn't have the title 'daddy' if he decides to walk out? I don't think so.
But can I share that position in Connor's life? Can I give up being the only parent Connor has, the most important person in his life? The only one who has a biological claim to this child?
I take a deep, unnecessary breath and look over at my older childe, who is avoiding my eyes. "Spike?"
He looks up, trying to mask the confusion and hurt behind his eyes with a facade, but I see right through it. "Yes?"
"It would be an honor if you want to consider Connor your son."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
There's silence for a few long moments, then Spike nods slowly. "Okay."
That's all I need to hear, and I smile. "Okay."
Spike looks over at me, at the bandages covering my body, and frowns a little. "You need feeding. And sleep."
"I just woke up, Spike."
"You're injured. Sleep is healing." He doesn't look ready to relent anytime soon, and suddenly, I am kind of tired.
I yawn a little, and he grins. "Let me get some blood for you, and then you can take a nap, okay?"
I nod. "Thanks."
He disappears, and I content myself with just watching Connor sleep while he's gone. The miracle that is my son never fades in my eyes-- he's just such an amazing accomplishment that sometimes I can't take my eyes off of him. I wonder if it will still feel like this years from now.
Somehow, I think it will.
Spike returns with the blood, warm from the microwave, and I scoot up the bed until I'm sitting enough to drink it. I have to be careful not to break contact with Connor, though, because I think he would start screaming. He's already sleeping less deeply since Spike took his hand off him.
Once I've downed all the blood, which, as usual, tastes horrible, but will sustain me and help me recover, if nothing else, I put it down on the bedside table. Curling up around Connor again, I look up at Spike. "What are you going to do while we sleep?" I ask.
He smiles. "I'll find something." He settles himself in a chair next to the bed, and I know what he's going to do. Sometimes I can't keep myself from just sitting and watching the people I love, either.
I return the smile warmly. "Okay." I close my eyes, and I can feel his gaze on me and my son. From anyone else, it would feel at the very least, strange, and probably severely distracting, but from Spike, it just feels comforting.
He's watching over us, I realize, and that's what makes it feel so comfortable. He's watching over us and making sure that nothing happens to us while we sleep. He's sitting there to ward off the demons of our nightmares and the demons of our reality. He's playing protector.
Connor snorts in his sleep, and I smile as I feel my consciousness drift off.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Two hours later, I awaken again, moving slowly back towards wakefulness, and then glance over at the clock. One-thirty. I yawn and raise my head, looking for Spike and Connor, but they are nowhere to be found. Reluctantly, I lay back down, remembering my promise to Spike, and pick up the book he's so thoughtfully placed on the table to keep me company.
It's barely been twenty minutes by the time I'm fidgeting too hard to stay still. Groaning a little as the movements pull on some of the not-quite-healed wounds, I stand and pull a pair of pants on. I'm still wearing the shirt from earlier, and once I'm covered up, I heard downstairs.
Spike catches me halfway across the lobby. "Angel! You're not supposed to be up." He frowns at my disobedience, but seems to know it's a moot point.
I shrug. "Bed got boring. I promise I won't do any heavy lifting or exercising, okay?"
Reluctantly, he nods. "Sit down, and let me take a look at those, though?"
I sit down on the couch, and he fetches the first-aid kit. Honestly, I don't know why we bother keeping a little box full of bandages and peroxide when we go through a refrigerator-sized box at least every month, but that's Cordy's domain. And believe me when I say you do not want to cross Queen C.
Taking the bandages carefully off my stomach, he probes gently at the wounds. I wince, but sit still, having a fair amount of experience in being poked like this. "The prognosis, Doctor William?" I ask.
He smiles. "The scratches are healed, just new skin to see. The puncture wounds are closing, but they'll take a while longer before they're actually there." He picks up the hydrogen peroxide and wets a swab, then makes a cursory sweep over the healing wounds. It stings a little around the edges of a couple of the punctures, but for the most part I can't feel it, which is a good sign, since it means the skin is closed, whether by new skin or scabbing.
Spike looks up. "Can you feel that?"
I shake my head. "Barely."
He nods. "Good. But I don't want you thinking you can do anything yet, okay? These wounds could still break open, and then you'd be right back where you started."
I roll my eyes a little. "I promised."
Spike grins. "I know. But you promised to stay in bed, too, and look at all the good that did." He isn't really upset, but he is serious about me sticking to his instructions, this time.
"William, I promised!"
Cordy walks into the room, then, carrying Connor and shaking her head. "God, I think he's more overprotective than me," she comments.
"There's no 'think' involved," I tell her, grinning. "You'd be letting me fight already, and he won't even let me lift anything."
Cordy rolls her eyes and snorts. "That's just because he can take care of himself. He'd have you up and fighting if his unlife depended on it, too."
Spike smirks. "Why, Cordelia, have you become a vampire since I last saw you?" He sniffs the air and shakes his head. "Nope. Vampires smell less."
She gives him her patented glare of death, and puts the hand she's not using to hold Connor on her hip. "Well, they certainly smell less pleasant. And you know what I meant, Captain Peroxide."
My lover shakes his head, mock-sadly. "Cordy, Cordy, Cordy. It's becoming obvious who you dated in high school, even if I didn't already know."
"What?"
Spike grins. "The Whelp already called me that. Sorry to take away your originality."
Cordy's glare gets even hotter, if that's possible, and she stalks out of the room. Though all of this, I've been trying to maintain a poker face, but now I let the corner of my lips turn up at my peroxided-childe's antics.
"William, try not to bother Cordy, huh?" We both know he'll just ignore me, but I have to say something. It's the effort that counts.
Spike smirks, and then pouts. "But it's just so much fun!"
I grin. "I know. But Cordy'll kill me if she finds out I said that," I warn.
The playful mood vanishes from Spike as quickly as it came. His eyes flash to my wounds as I mention killing, and the sparkle is just gone from his bright blue eyes. Sitting down next to me, he looks at the floor like he's going to say something, and he's not sure how I'll take it.
"Will?" I prompt gently.
"I'm scared," he blurts out.
"Scared of what?" It's not exactly the first thing I expected to hear out of his mouth, but I think I can understand why he would be.
"This." He gestures wildly around us. "The commitment I made to you and the Little Nip."
I smile gently. "You made that commitment in love, Will. Do you want to leave?"
He shakes his head. "No. But you know me." He smiles ruefully. "I'm scared that someday I might want to."
"And not be able to?"
He nods.
"William, you made a commitment to me and Connor in love. If there comes a time when you want to leave, maybe it means you should go. You're not bound to us by anything except your own love."
He smiles, and leans on me, resting his head on my shoulder. I wince involuntarily and then try to cover it, but he notices and jerks back. "You okay?"
I nod. "I just pulled on a scab a little. I'm fine."
He smirks. "Things around here really have changed, haven't they," he muses.
"What do you mean?"
"This." He motions at me. "I came here and you took care of me. Now I'm taking care of you."
I smile, and kiss his forehead. "This is what functional relationships are about, Will. Taking care of each other."
He smirks. "Or so you hear."
I grin. "Or so I hear."
[Previous Chapter]
Back to A Little Part of the Buffiverse
Back to A Little Part of the Buffiverse Fanfic