Epilogue

            Buffy stretched right up and put her arms around Riley.  "You take care," she said.

            "I will.  And you too.  I mean that.  You gotta look after yourself."

            She smiled.  "Believe me, Mom and Dawn are making sure I do.  Say hi to Sam for me."

            "I will."  Riley bent down and kissed her cheek.  "Bye, Buffy."

            "Bye."  She closed the door and leaned against it, her eyes closed for a second.  Riley, married.  It was insane.

            "It's nice you two are talking again," Dawn said, coming down the stairs.

            "Well, you know.  He's a good guy, he's just not my good guy," Buffy said, heaving herself upright and going through into the kitchen.  "We had a long talk about London.  He said he was a sorry about a million times - you know, I actually got sick of the sound of it."

            Dawn smiled.  "I might have to get that in writing.  You know - Spike said he was sorry..."

            Buffy's smile faded.  "Yeah.  Well, not to my face he didn't."

            "Look, if you call him or, you know, get Giles to call him or something... I know he'd love to see you, and you really should-"

            "No," Buffy said sternly.  "No.  I still haven't forgiven him for... For the things he... Look, I just want to forget about him, okay?"

            "Like that's ever going to happen," Dawn muttered.

            "What was that?"

            "Um, I said I'd better go.  I'm meeting RJ at the Bronze.  You don't wanna come with...?"

            Buffy made a face.  "I really don't think that's appropriate, do you?"

            Dawn laughed.  "Well, maybe not.  Okay.  I'll see you tomorrow.  Tell Mom I took my sneakers to drive in, okay?"

            Buffy grinned.  "Sure I will.  Have fun."

            Dawn skipped out of the door and Buffy watched her go, adding to herself, "'Cos I know I won't."

            Spike sat in his sister's kitchen and drummed his fingers on the table.  It was scrubbed oak, very farmhouse, and there was a gingham runner down the centre.  The walls were a rustic yellow and the cupboards all had artful cracks in them.  Harmony had wanted a rustic, farmhouse look, but she had absolutely zilch taste.  The place made him feel ill.

            "Come on, Spikey," she said, coming back into the kitchen and untying her frilly apron.  "Don't just sit there moping.  Go and find her.  Ravello Drive isn't that far away."

            "I am not moping," Spike said.

            "Look, Spike," his other sister came in and dumped some dishes in the sink, "much as it pains me to say, Harm's right.  You've been a misery-guts for bloody weeks now.  Go and find her.  You can even take my car."

            He looked up for a brief second.  "You don't have a bloody car.  They impounded it when you lost your licence."

            "Yes, well, if I had one you could borrow it," Darla said, unruffled.  "I'm sure Harm'll lend you the Beemer, right, Harm?"

            Harmony didn't look happy about the idea, but she nodded.  "If it'll stop him looking so miserable," she said.  She chanced a glance at her sister, who nodded.  "I went into her Mum's gallery yesterday," she said casually.

            "Harm, you hate modern art.  If it doesn't have a unicorn in it, you hate it.  Remember?"

            "Well, I still went in.  And I got chatting to Joyce and she said Buffy's ever so down these days.  Really misses someone but she's too proud to call him... But she really should have called him..."

            "And I happen to know that her sister will be out tonight," Darla chipped in.  "I met this guy who has a brother in high school and he said his brother is going out with this girl called Dawn Summers.  They're meeting up tonight."

            "And there's a late showing at the gallery," Harmony added.  "Buffy will be all alone..."

            "She's probably got a date," Spike said, fingers drumming faster.  "Girl like her won't be single for long."

            "Only if she wants to date," Harmony pleaded.  "Go on, Spikey-"

            "Stop bloody calling me that!"

            "All right, then, William," Darla snapped.  "Just go and see her before I start testing out my new pepper spray on you."

            "You can take my car," Harmony wheedled.

            "Why are you two so desperate for me to see her?  Is that the only reason you invited me out here?"

            "No," Darla said airily, "I wanted you to beat up this guy who won't stop pestering me.  But since you're here..."

            "Fine," Spike shoved his chair back and stood up.  "I'll bloody go."

            He snatched up Harmony's keys and stalked out.  Behind his back, the two sisters high-fived each other.

            Spike got in the car and reversed far too fast out of the drive.  He drove one block east and another south and then he stopped.  This was stupid.  He couldn't just turn up unannounced.  He didn't need to see her.  He needed to move on.

            It was just because she smelled so good.  He'd smelled her perfume on a woman on the Tube the other day and nearly got arrested for following her.  Why did he miss Buffy so much?  Why was she so special?  Why couldn't he get her out of his head?

            Why was he suddenly outside her house?  He didn't even remember driving here.  But he'd been by so often, every day since he came to Sunnydale.  It wasn't that he was stalking her, it was just...

            Okay, he was stalking her.

            He peered through the dining room window and saw her sitting behind the table, book in hand, papers spread out all over the tablecloth.  That was right - she was doing some sort of course.  Harmony had heard it from Joyce.  Some art history thing.

            She was wearing glasses - a new addition, and very adorable - and her hair was falling out of its clasp.  She was so incredibly beautiful.

            Spike was out of the car and halfway up the path before he realised what he was doing.  He paused, swore to himself, and stomped up to the door.  If she didn't answer after ten seconds he was leaving.

            ...four, three, two...

            He turned away.

            And then the door opened.

            "Can I-" Buffy began, and then stopped.  There was a long pause, so pregnant its waters were nearly breaking.

            "Spike?"

            "You got me," Spike said, unable to turn and look at her.  "Thought you were out," he added.

            "I was studying.  Home study - like correspondence, you know..."

            "Right."  His eyes were fixed on the wing mirror of Harmony's car.  There was a longer pause.

            "Are you gonna turn round?" Buffy asked eventually.

            Spike took a deep breath and spun on his heel to face her.

            His head went light.

            He fainted.

            He came to on an unfamiliar couch, bright lights in his eyes. Something damp on his forehead.

            "God, Spike, are you all right?  What happened?"

            "Something you must never tell anyone about," Spike said.  "Ever."  He blinked and turned his head.  Buffy was kneeling by the sofa, a damp cloth in her hand and a worried expression on her face.

            "What happened to your face?" she asked

            "What happened to your stomach?"

            Buffy's arm went around her waist - or where her waist used to be, before Spike's baby filled it out.

            "Oh," she said.  "Yeah.  I was sort of going to tell you about that..."

            Spike stared at her.

            "Well, okay, so I wasn't."

            "You're pregnant?"

            She nodded.

            "Is it - is it-"

            "It's yours," Buffy said.

            "Jesus."  Spike let his head fall back on the sofa arm.  "Bloody hell."

            "You're not going to faint again, are you?"

            "I didn't faint.  I - I blacked out.  In shock.  Bloody hell.  She didn't tell me that."

            "Who didn't tell me what?"

            "Harmony."

            "Harm - wait a minute.  Does she like unicorns?"

            Spike nodded painfully.

            "Mom said some rich English girl had been asking about me.  God.  That's your sister Harmony?"

            "Yep."

            "But - Mom said she was titled.  Like, Lady Harmony."

            "Yep."

            "But..."

            Spike gave her a weary smile.  "If your full name was Lord William Henry Dashwood, Viscount of Spellingdon, would you tell everyone?"

            Buffy's mouth dropped open.  She swayed on her knees.

            "You're a lord?"

            "Yeah.  Well - no, but my dad is.  It's a courtesy title... When he dies I'll be the Earl of Stanchester."

            Buffy clutched at his hand.  "The-"

            He peered at her.  "You all right, love?"

            "Yeah, I'm - I just-"

            Spike grabbed her shoulders as she swayed, and awkwardly swung her onto the sofa in his place.

            "Shouldn't have shocked you," he said.  "Not in your, er, your..."

            "My condition?"  Buffy smiled.  "Believe me, I've had enough shocks since I found out.  Actually, finding out was the biggest shock..."

            "Why didn't you tell me?"

            Buffy sighed.  "Well, I... Okay, to begin with I thought you were evil."

            "A common mistake.  As I recall, love, I saved your life."

            "As I recall, love," Buffy shot back, "you said you'd been using me and I made you feel sick.  And then the person I thought was your ally shot me."

            Spike's fingers tightened around her wrist.  "He was never my ally," he said.  "Ever.  After what he did to you, and your sister and your friends... If I hadn't already killed the fucker, I'd do it again."

            Buffy stroked his hair.  "Giles explained it all to me," she said.  "He said he'd talked to you.  He didn't tell me..." She trailed off, and her hand slid gently down the side of his face.  There was a burn mark there, a livid pink puckered scar, and Spike winced slightly at her touch.

            "Does it hurt?"

            "Only when I laugh."

            Buffy smiled.  "He said your gunshot would was healing okay..."

            "What about yours?"

            "Bulletproof vest.  You didn't think I'd go in there without protection, did you?"

            "Speaking of which..."

            Buffy blushed.  "I was on the Pill," she said.  "I really was.  I didn't lie to you about that.  I don't know... I guess it must have been a timezone thing or maybe because I took it late or something.  I never thought..."

            Spike reached out and placed a hand on her swollen stomach.  "Neither did I.  Wish you'd told me, Buffy."

            "What was I supposed to do?  Call you up and say, hey, you know you said sleeping with me made you sick?  Well guess what?  It got me pregnant.  Congratulations."

            "It never made me sick," Spike said.

            "Did me."

            He stared at her.

            "The morning after the vodka?  Wasn't hangover.  Morning sickness.  I have been throwing up for bloody months."

            Spike gave her a smile.  "I've been thinking about you for months."

            "I missed you," Buffy said quietly, and Spike's heart turned over.  He lifted her chin and kissed her, and Buffy kissed him back with months and months of longing and desire, totally unable to separate her mouth from his.  He tasted so good and she'd missed him so much.

            Eventually he released her, gasping, "Reckon that baby's gonna need some oxygen, love."

            Buffy put her arms around him and held him close.  "I didn't think I'd ever see you again," she whispered.  "Figured I'd be a single mother forever.  Live with my Mom and be a bitter old spinster with a delinquent kid."

            "Hey, the next Viscount Spellingdon is not allowed to be a delinquent."

            "What if it's a girl?"

            "Oh, then she can be a tearaway.  Worked out okay for my sisters."

            Buffy smiled.  "I met Harmony once.  I didn't think she was that bad."

            "Obviously didn't spend too much time with her.  Oh, no, wait, Buffy, the kid can only inherit the title if I acknowledge it."

            A cold shiver ran through Buffy.  "If you what?"

            "If I marry his mother."  Spike's eyes glittered and he gave her a cocky grin.  "Fancy marrying me?"

            Buffy stared.

            "Buffy?"

            "Ask me again," she whispered.

            Spike grinned, got off the sofa and propped himself on one knee.  He took her hand in his, and his smile faded.  His face was earnest, desperate, scarred and beautiful.  Buffy reached out and touched his hair.

            "Buffy Summers.  I bloody love you.  I'm sorry I didn't tell you before, but I really bloody do."

            "I love you too," Buffy said, and was horrified to find she was crying.  "I only realised it after you were gone, but I really do."

            "Will you marry me?"

            She paused.  "You're not just asking me because I'm pregnant?"

            "No!  Although that is a rather large factor.  I'm asking you because I love you and I want to be with you.  Can't you tell?  I bloody adore you, Summers.  I'm drowning in you.  And I'm also getting cramp, so can you answer before I fall over?"

            Buffy sniffed and attempted a grin, and wiped away a tear with the back of her hand.

            "Ask me again," she croaked.

            "Will you marry me?"

            Buffy looked at him for a long moment, this man who had ricocheted so insanely into her life, turned her upside down and all around, messed up her head and her body, who gave her the best sex she'd ever had, who'd risked his life to save her sister, who looked at her with so much love.

            "Yes," she said.  "I will."

            Spike broke into a massive grin and swept her into his arms.  He was still kissing her when the front door opened and Dawn walked in.  Her hand flew to her mouth.

            "Hey, Buffy, I saw Xander and Anya, they said - Oh my God!"

            Buffy tore herself away from Spike and stared guiltily up at her little sister.

            "Hey, Dawnie," she wiped her mouth as subtly as she could, "how was the Bronze?"

            "Uh, okay.  Hey, Spike," she gave a fingerwave.  "I guess you two made up," she added with a big grin.

            "Yep," Spike said, standing up and hauling Buffy to her feet.  He looked her over speculatively, then swooped and picked her up in his arms.

            "Hey!  Spike!  Put me down.  Come on, put me down, I weigh a ton."

            "No, you don't.  Which way's your room?"

            "It's upstairs, but you can't carry me-"

            "Tough.  I'm gonna.  Niblet," he nodded at Dawn as she stepped out of the way, grinning so wide Buffy thought to top of her head might fall off.

            "Have fun," she called up the stairs as Spike carried Buffy up.

            "Oh, I intend to," he grinned.

            He made love to her, carefully and gently, awestruck by her new body, delighting in everything, and afterwards held her close and kissed her sweetly.

            "So then, Lady Buffy," he said.  "What have you been up to?  Did I miss much?"

            Buffy considered it.  "I could write it down for you," she offered, "on maybe a postage stamp.  In really big letters."

            Spike grinned and kissed her hair.

            "Hey," he said, "if it's a girl maybe we could call it after Willow or Tara."

                "I'd like that," Buffy smiled, and then her eyes started to shine.  "And if it's a boy, we could call it Riley."  She watched his face change.  "Come on, I was joking.  Spike, I was joking.  Hey, Spike... Spike?  Oh, Spike!"

Well, it's been a rollercoaster ride for me too… but the Spuffy goodness had to come to an end some time.  Sniff.  I miss them now.  Oh well, guess I'll have to write another one!

Hope you enjoyed it and thanks very, very much for all the fantastic feedback.  It's been really encouraging. J

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