"Still Bound" chapter 4
by Bonnie
Ben/Glory has been eliminated. Undernourished, Buffy fainted and Spike brought her home. This chapter - secrets begin to come out.
Spike, arms burdened with Buffy, kicked the Watcher's front door with heavy thuds. There was a flutter of curtains at the window as someone checked out the unexpected visitor and then the door was thrown open by a wide-eyed Willow.
"What happened? Is she all right?"
"Oh, my god! Buffy?" Dawn came running from the kitchen, dropping her dishcloth. Tara followed behind.
"Lay her over here," Giles commanded, gesturing Spike to the couch where he was already headed. "Where is she injured?"
"Not a scratch on her that I can see," Spike grunted as he gently placed Buffy on the sofa. Miss Light-as-a-Feather had gotten pretty heavy the last couple of blocks, and his injured leg was buckling beneath him.
Giles pushed past the vampire to check over his charge. He felt her limbs for breaks and examined her head for wounds. As Spike had said, there was nothing.
"Maybe something internal," he murmured, resting his hand on Buffy's abdomen. "Or a spell of some kind."
"Maybe," Spike said doubtfully.
Buffy's eyelids began to flutter and she moaned slightly.
"Buffy?" Dawn, who was on her knees beside the couch, pushed her sister's shoulder. "Hey! Wake up!"
"Smelling salts. Have you got smelling salts?" Willow asked, distractedly. Giles fixed her with an incredulous stare.
"Wha-at?" Buffy blinked around at them all. She struggled to sit up, Spike's leather coat sliding off her shoulders.
"Sshh, just rest," Tara soothed, combing her hair back from her forehead.
"Oh, now she's ready to get up, after I haul her halfway across town," Spike complained from where he had collapsed on the floor.
Anya came bustling over with a cup of hot cocoa. "So, where's Xander?" she demanded, as she thrust the cup toward Buffy.
"Anya, not now!" Willow snapped, shooing her away. "Are you okay, Buffy? What happened?"
"I don't know.." Buffy's voice trailed off. "I tripped over something. I'm not sure." She reached toward Anya. "Actually, I could use that, please."
Anya gave Willow a satisfied smirk as she handed over the steaming cup. "Be careful. It's quite hot. I made it myself," she added proudly.
"Yeah, opened the packet and poured it in and everything," Willow muttered, rolling her eyes.
"Of course, it was intended for me, but you can have it," Anya said graciously.
There was another pounding at the front door and everyone jumped. Giles rose from Buffy's side to answer it.
"Holy Moses, it's getting cold out there!" Xander entered, stomping his feet and blowing on his hands. "Feels like fall instead of spring." He took note of the group clustered around the couch where Buffy lay. "What's going on? Are you all right? Did Glory.?"
"No." Buffy waved a hand. "No Glory. No nothing. I'm fine. I guess I just tripped and . hit my head or something."
"No you didn't," Spike said, hauling himself to his feet with the aid of an armchair and then collapsing into it. "No head wound. I think you bloody fainted is what."
"I did not!" Buffy objected furiously.
"You are very pale," Giles noted. "When did you last eat?"
"Hah! Told you not to go without a hot meal didn't I?" Dawn was triumphant. "Do I have to be the mom of us now?"
Tara had already left her post, leaning over the back of the couch, to serve up a plateful of spaghetti and garlic bread for Buffy and another for Xander. Buffy received hers gratefully and began wolfing it down. She looked up at her friends, spaghetti noodles trailing down her chin.
They were still staring at her. She gave them a pointed look, and everyone resumed more natural positions seating themselves here and there around the room.
"So, did you find anything out about the knights, Xander?" she asked between bites, taking the focus off her alleged fainting spell.
Xander gulped down his mouthful of spaghetti, almost choking. "Well I, uh, actually never quite made it to the woods. It was so cold, and I didn't see any of the knights to follow so it seemed kind of pointless and.."
"Stopped in at the bar did you?" Anya asked, arms folded and toe tapping. "With those friends from work."
"I didn't think anyone would mind," Xander said, and then asked Buffy, "Were you out looking for me?"
"No. She was looking for Spike," Dawn explained. "He went off with some half-cocked scheme to beat Glory and she went racing after him like the cavalry."
Now everyone's eyes were on Spike.
"You have something to share?" Buffy demanded. "What did you think you'd accomplish in your condition?" She gestured at his purplish bruised face and arms that almost matched his black T-shirt.
Spike sighed and began the Glory equals Ben explanation again, praying that the cloaking spell had died with the hell-god. When he finished, everyone was staring at him open-mouthed.
"So you're saying Glory is Ben and Ben is Glory," Xander slowly reasoned.
"That's what I've been saying the last two days to your valiant leader here." Spike nodded at Buffy. "And to anyone else who would listen. But none of you could retain it for longer than it takes a hooker to drop her drawers."
"Of course!" Giles said thoughtfully. "I should have known the.."
"Don't even start with the 'I would've figured it out eventually' bollocks," Spike interrupted. "You were just as clueless as the rest. It took me to fix things."
"What did you do?" Willow asked. "Find someone to break the cloaking spell? I could've done that if you'd asked, even if I couldn't see the secret the spell was covering."
"Nope. Better than that," Spike said smugly. "I took care of Ben entirely."
"What does that mean?" Willow looked annoyed.
Spike cocked his head and looked at her meaningfully. "I took care of him."
"What did you do?" Buffy practically whispered, lowering her fork to the plate.
"Hired someone to take him out, and there's the end to your troubles!" Spike announced.
" 'Take him out'? You mean kill him?" Xander was looking appraisingly at the vampire.
"You had Ben murdered!" Willow gasped.
"Well, yeah. It was the only way to get rid of your hell-god neat and easy."
"How do you know?" Buffy's even tone was starting to rise. "How do you know it was the only way? For all we know, Ben was an innocent human, a bystander who couldn't help his connection to that ... creature. Maybe I could have talked to him, reasoned with him, worked with him to find a way to control or diminish Glory. You didn't even consult me!"
"I tried, now didn't I? You weak-minded humans couldn't even wrap your minds around the fact that Ben was Glory so how could I possibly get your opinion on the matter?" Spike paused and then resumed indignantly. "And that's what's really chafing you isn't it? That I didn't ask your permission first! You fancy yourself quite the little Napoleon, don't you?"
"What?"
"You can't stand that someone might have a good idea and carry it out without doing it on your command!" his voice rose. "Well bugger that! I'm not your bloody minion."
Buffy, suddenly on the defensive, fumbled for a reply. "I ... You ... You're missing the point. It's wrong to kill people," she tried to explain. Tara nodded agreement. Anya shrugged and cast Spike a sympathetic glance.
"Well, actually," Giles' quiet voice interrupted. "In this instance at least, perhaps what Spike did was justifiable." He settled his glasses on his nose and looked at the Slayer. "Buffy, the whole world weighs quite heavily against the value of one life."
Spike managed not to speak, but looked as smug as the Cheshire cat, folding his arms and settling back into his armchair.
Buffy turned on her Watcher. "I can't believe this. You're taking his side?"
"Not precisely. I do think further investigation might have been in order, but you must admit his method was extremely effective."
"Hear. Hear," Anya supported. "Go team us. We're alive. Glory's dead. What more do you want Buffy?"
"If you can't see it, there's no point in me trying to explain it," Buffy exploded. "It's wrong to take a human life, pure and simple."
"Glory would've taken Dawn eventually. I told you what the scabby little bugger said; the Key was made to open a portal to hell. The bitch would've used Dawn's blood, these things always take blood, and you couldn't have done anything to stop it!" Spike's voice was hard. Dawn looked aghast as the full import of her purpose was revealed to her. "It was the only way," he finished firmly.
Buffy shook her head. "I can't believe that. I won't. Murder is never the way."
"You know," Spike leaned forward in his chair, scowling. "It wouldn't hurt you to show a little bloody gratitude for a change instead of busting my balls. I saved you a lot of pain and trouble and the need to dirty your own delicate little hands with it. If you can't thank me, at least let it go!"
Willow interrupted, "But Spike, the point is that you didn't consult with any of us. Maybe eliminating Ben was the practical way to go, but it couldn't have been the only way. With time and some research maybe I could've found a spell.."
"Oh please, Sabrina! I think a hell-god is a just a tad out of your league," he sneered.
Willow's face grew stormy. "You might be surprised," she snapped.
Spike opened his mouth, ready with a comeback, and Xander raised his hands and stepped between them. "I hate to play devil's advocate," he said, casting a withering glance at Spike, "I mean I really despise it, but I have to admit killing Ben was effective. Not what a moral, sane person would do, of course," he said, catching Buffy's glare, "But Sunnydale's safe again . for a while at least. There may be a little mopping up of the minions to do and we still don't know where those knights fit into all this, but overall, I gotta say I'm going to sleep better tonight knowing Glory's gone."
Buffy looked at Giles, who was intent on polishing his glasses; at Willow, folding her arms and shaking her head; at sympathetic Tara, impatient Anya, conflicted Xander, irritated Spike . and Dawn. There her gaze stopped. Dawn regarded her solemnly with unreadable eyes.
Buffy gave her sister a little smile.
The clock ticked in the silence.
Anya cleared her throat.
"All right." Buffy's disapproval was evident from her stiff posture and even stiffer tone. "I still think it was wrong." She fixed Spike with an intense stare. "And you can call me Napoleon but I don't want any more decisions made without consulting me first! Anyway, it's done now." She toyed with the spaghetti noodles on her plate then set it on the coffee table. She looked up at Dawn again, "Well ... I guess we can all go home."
Buffy rose unsteadily from the couch. Retrieving Spike's coat, which was crumpled beneath her, she tossed it at him. He caught it, jaw tightening in disappointment at the reception his news had received.
Following Buffy's cue, the rest of the Scoobies dropped the issue and began gathering their possessions, tacitly ignoring the vampire in their midst. Giles carried Buffy's plate to the kitchen. Spike watched them all for a moment, then leaned back in the chair and closed his eyes with a sigh. He looked bedraggled and exhausted; his hair tufted from the wind, the bruises standing out in high relief against his white skin.
As the others tidied the kitchen and living room, Dawn approached Spike hesitantly. Her eyes were huge as she reached out and lightly touched his arm. His eyes flickered open and, when he saw who it was, he smiled. When she continued to stand there mute, he tilted his head and raised an eyebrow.
"Thank you," Dawn said quietly, frowning a little in her earnestness. She gave his arm a pat. "I'm glad you did it."
He nodded. "It was a pleasure to see him die, Niblet," he admitted just as quietly. She returned his nod and moved away to gather her schoolbooks.
Tara and Willow left after insisting the Buffy make a doctor's appointment if she had any more dizzy spells.
"Come on, Buff, Dawnster, your carriage awaits," Xander said jauntily as he ushered Anya and Dawn out to his car.
"Just a minute Xander. I'll be right there." Buffy turned and looked back at Spike from the open door. She walked over toward him, arms crossed over her chest, and stood there a moment watching his non-responsive face.
"Spike, I don't approve of what you did to Ben, but I do owe you thanks for bringing me here tonight. I don't know exactly what happened, but I was pretty much vampire-bait out there. So ... thanks," she said brusquely.
He shrugged and replied without opening his eyes, "Don't mention it."
Buffy shifted around a little and the silence dragged. Finally she burst out in a rush, "Why do you do it? Why do you keep trying to help me? What's your angle?"
His eyes opened halfway and he fixed her with a heavy-lidded stare. "You really wanna know, Slayer?" he asked pointedly.
She paused and answered softly, "No. Maybe not," then turned and left quickly.
Spike settled back in his chair once more, eyes closed, an almost-smile playing at the corners of his mouth.
Giles strode out of the kitchen with the bottle of Scotch and two glasses. He poured and handed one to Spike then sat on the couch across from him and watched the vampire knock it back.
Pouring his own drink, he swirled the amber liquid around the glass thoughtfully.
"You remember what I said last year?" he asked. "About obsession?"
Spike made a non-committal, "Mmph," and held out his glass for another shot.
Giles withheld the bottle and pierced him with a level stare, "Listen well, Spike, and learn - There is no place for you in Buffy's life."
Spike snorted and shook his head then set the empty glass on the coffee table. He rose, shrugged his coat on and limped toward the door without a backward glance.
"Spike!"
"What?" With a resigned sigh, he cast a look over his shoulder.
Spike neatly caught the half-empty bottle, looked at the label, and dipped his head in acknowledgement of the gesture before slipping silently out the door.
***********
Spike fully intended to go straight home. His body ached like a root canal without Novacain and he could barely concentrate on walking. Maybe that's why his feet carried him almost five blocks out of his way to pass by Buffy's house on his way to the crypt.
He leaned against the tree in the front yard, rapidly emptying the Watcher's bottle of Scotch as he watched the illuminated stage of the Summers' living room. Buffy and Dawn were seated on the couch in front of the window where he could clearly see their profiles as they talked. Dawn was speaking intensely, tears coursing down her cheeks. Buffy smiled and replied, brushing back Dawn's long brown hair and leaning forward to press a kiss to her forehead.
They made a pretty picture, and Spike ached to be there with them in the warmth and light. Buffy stood and drew the drapes. He sighed and walked on, stumbling slightly on an uneven patch in the sidewalk. He cursed as he caught his balance, threw the empty bottle in someone's lawn and continued on toward home, ready to crawl down in his cellar and not move for three days.
He didn't notice that across the street from the Summers' house, the driver of a black van started the engine and cruised slowly away.
********
Late the following afternoon Buffy walked out of the free clinic with another positive test result and a Facts You Should Know About You and Your Baby pamphlet. After a day of job hunting and being turned down by every business in Sunnydale except the Doublemeat Palace, which not only took her application but gave her an interview on the spot, she had stopped into the clinic on a whim and prayed that the home test she had taken would prove to be a mistake. It wasn't.
Buffy didn't know how much of her stomach rolling like a sailor on shore leave was due to nerves and how much due to hormones run amok. In one brief stab of honesty and clarity, she realized she was grateful to Spike for solving the Glory problem. It left her free to concentrate on the huge decision she was going to have to make very soon.
The stack of unpaid bills on her dresser - medical, funerary and household - were telling her to use logic and terminate the pregnancy. Her heart was already decorating her mom's office as a nursery and picking out baby clothes. She simultaneously wished she could share the news with Riley and was grateful that he was out of reach so she needn't consult him.
Buffy sighed and looked down at the cover of the pamphlet, which showed a smiling young mother cradling a newborn. Tears began to well in her eyes, and she blinked them away furiously. Oh no. Not going there again. Today she was strong Buffy, decision-making Buffy, in-control Buffy, not weepy- eyed, crybaby Buffy. With a last sniffle she tucked the brochure into her purse along with the sample of pre-natal vitamins the nurse had given her and set off for home at a brisk pace, planning what cupboard leavings she could put together for Dawn's dinner.
**********
Spike was on a redecorating expedition. When he woke that evening and took a good look around the crypt, he realized it wasn't exactly Buffy-friendly. It wasn't enough to be as good-looking as he was, his crypt must also have the appropriate furnishings and décor to make Buffy feel comfortable and at home if she came by. Of course there was no indication that she would ever be visiting him for any reason other than buying information, but a fellow had to have hope - had to make a plan and stick with it to keep himself moving through life.
He was on a mission to dismantle a sumptuous bed he'd found while shopping in the U-Lock-It storage bays and reassemble it in the crypt basement piece by piece. This would take several trips and a lot more strength than he currently possessed, but he was determined to have it done by the end of the night.
He walked through Restfield Cemetery singing softly about love and loss and redemption as told by the Clash, when far across the open ground he saw a familiar blond head shining in the moonlight. Buffy was whirling, kicking and stabbing with her stake. A shower of dust particles soon glittered in the ambient light, surrounding her like a halo.
"My angel of death," he murmured to himself. He approached her stealthily, slipping from shadow to shadow until he stood behind a monument only a few yards away. "Spike," she said without even turning. "You're going to get a hole in the heart one of these times trying to stalk me like that. Why can't you just walk up and say hello like a normal person?"
"Thought you were still pissed at me," he answered, falling in step beside her. "Thought you might try and rearrange my nose again."
"I am still pissed at you. What you did was wrong. But did you miss the part where I said thanks for helping me?"
"Didn't think you meant it."
"I did, but if you're fishing for more gratitude, that's as much as you get."
They walked in silence for a few minutes, listening to the night noises and scanning for enemies. Spike shot a few sidelong looks at Buffy, gauging her health. She looked a little less peaked than she had yesterday and maybe just a mite less worried, but there was still something off about her. Had been ever since he'd returned to Sunnydale. He couldn't quite place it. Something about her body, her movements, her very being was different.
He moved closer to her side and unobtrusively inhaled her scent, listened to her breathing, listened to her heartbeat. Her heartbeat . That was it! Somewhere under Buffy's strong, steady pulse was another rhythm, lighter and quicker but undeniable. Spike froze in his tracks.
Buffy walked on another yard before she noticed his absence. She turned and looked at him. "What?"
"You're pregnant," he blurted, raising his hand and pointing like the accusing boyfriend in a bad soap opera.
Buffy stared at him, wide-eyed. "What?"
"With child. Knocked up. Watermelon in the cupboard. Punching out a puppy. In a delicate condition."
"How do you . How could you know that?" She was too shocked to bother to deny it.
"Can hear its heart beating away in there," he answered, staring perplexedly at her still-flat abdomen. "How long?"
"Almost three months." Her arms went into their typical defensive cross.
"When did you find out?"
"Two nights ago. Today for sure."
"You gonna track down Finn and tell him?"
"He's in a Central American jungle somewhere. I don't know."
"Planning on keeping it?"
"I don't know!" Buffy's voice was taking on an edge and Spike stopped grilling her. She turned and began walking again and he followed behind.
"Your friends know yet?" he asked after a little bit. "The Watcher?"
She spun around, eyes flashing. "You ask me one more question and I'm going to punch you in the nose!"
"You should talk to them. You'll feel better," he pressed on, ignoring her flaring nostrils and tensing muscles. "At least, maybe that quiet girl, Willow's bird. She seems a soft shoulder to cry on."
"I'll tell them when I'm ready. I just found out myself and I don't know what the hell I'm doing." Spike realized her angry eyes were also glistening with tears and her chin was quivering. "I can't even keep my mom's African violet alive, how can I be trusted with a baby?"
"You want to keep it," Spike said slowly and appraisingly. "I can tell. You're mucking about telling yourself you have options but inside you've already decided."
"I h-have not. I can't have a baby. It's all I can do to keep me and Dawn afloat, to keep a roof over our heads. And then there's my slaying. It's impossible." She was snuffling back tears in earnest now. Spike took a step closer and reached out a tentative hand to pat her back.
"There've been Slayers with children before," he started to explain, then bit his tongue remembering how that particular Slayer had died. "You should do what you want."
His reassurance only produced a loud burst of sobs, and Buffy covered her face with her hands. "Stop it! Stop b-being n-nice!" she wailed.
Without further encouragement, Spike moved from back-patting to holding. He slipped his arms around the Slayer and pressed her against his chest. She was heaving and sobbing but not pushing him away or hitting him, so he took it as a good sign and started stroking her back, murmuring soothing little "there nows".
"Shhh, love," he whispered into her hair, mentally adding a thousand other endearments (my heart, my sweet, my goddess). "Shh." He tightened his hold and found that she had relaxed into him, moving her hands from her face to the front of his shirt, which she was clutching in each fist. He nuzzled the top of her head and continued smoothing his hands up and down her back. She felt so warm and soft, if a bit soggy, he wished she'd have a crying fit every day.
Buffy stood in his embrace for almost five precious minutes before she regained her composure and pushed away. She scrubbed furiously at her eyes and wiped her runny nose on the hem of her shirt. "This is ridiculous," she muttered. "I'm a faucet!"
"Never mind, pet. It's the hormones. You've got to expect you'll be a bit wonky for awhile." He gently took her elbow and started escorting her home. She shook off his hand but continued to walk by his side, shuffling disconsolately through the grass.
They walked in silence again until they reached her street and stopped in front of her house. Buffy looked up at the windows, lights blazing in each one. "Great, Dawn, run up the electric bill," she complained. "Dawn is a curse sent to pay me back for every time I opened my window while the air conditioning was on or left the fridge door wide open after I got out a snack." She smiled ruefully and met Spike's eyes for the first time since she'd allowed him to comfort her.
He smiled back, but kept his hands to himself.
Before she started up the walk to the house, he said, "Just do what your heart tells you, pet." Then he added with a mischievous grin, "But remember the little blighter will probably be a potato-nosed jackass like his dad or worse yet, you might unleash another Summers woman on the world."
Buffy started to laugh in spite of herself, choked it back and punched Spike in the arm - hard. He dodged away, rubbing his shoulder and mock scowling. He watched her up the walk and into the house before heading off to his previously scheduled errand.
His mind was busy weighing pros and cons as he walked toward the factory. On the plus side, Buffy was more emotionally fragile than he'd ever seen her and needed someone to help her through her crisis and he was poised to step in and do just that. On the downside . There was no downside! Finn's little sprog was just the key he'd needed to unlock Buffy. Spike would show her how dependable and protective and whatever-the-bloody-hell- else she needed he could be. He would provide her with everything and in return, eventually, he would get everything he had hoped for.
Inroads! Oh yeah.
He stopped grinning and walking as a sudden thought dashed holy water in the face of his plan. What if the soldier came back? What if Buffy located him and called him home to do his manly duty?
Spike shrugged and continued on his way. Best not to put the cart on the eggs in the basket. One worry at a time. After all, mail could be intercepted. As could people who showed up where they weren't wanted.
To be continued..
Ben/Glory has been eliminated. Undernourished, Buffy fainted and Spike brought her home. This chapter - secrets begin to come out.
Spike, arms burdened with Buffy, kicked the Watcher's front door with heavy thuds. There was a flutter of curtains at the window as someone checked out the unexpected visitor and then the door was thrown open by a wide-eyed Willow.
"What happened? Is she all right?"
"Oh, my god! Buffy?" Dawn came running from the kitchen, dropping her dishcloth. Tara followed behind.
"Lay her over here," Giles commanded, gesturing Spike to the couch where he was already headed. "Where is she injured?"
"Not a scratch on her that I can see," Spike grunted as he gently placed Buffy on the sofa. Miss Light-as-a-Feather had gotten pretty heavy the last couple of blocks, and his injured leg was buckling beneath him.
Giles pushed past the vampire to check over his charge. He felt her limbs for breaks and examined her head for wounds. As Spike had said, there was nothing.
"Maybe something internal," he murmured, resting his hand on Buffy's abdomen. "Or a spell of some kind."
"Maybe," Spike said doubtfully.
Buffy's eyelids began to flutter and she moaned slightly.
"Buffy?" Dawn, who was on her knees beside the couch, pushed her sister's shoulder. "Hey! Wake up!"
"Smelling salts. Have you got smelling salts?" Willow asked, distractedly. Giles fixed her with an incredulous stare.
"Wha-at?" Buffy blinked around at them all. She struggled to sit up, Spike's leather coat sliding off her shoulders.
"Sshh, just rest," Tara soothed, combing her hair back from her forehead.
"Oh, now she's ready to get up, after I haul her halfway across town," Spike complained from where he had collapsed on the floor.
Anya came bustling over with a cup of hot cocoa. "So, where's Xander?" she demanded, as she thrust the cup toward Buffy.
"Anya, not now!" Willow snapped, shooing her away. "Are you okay, Buffy? What happened?"
"I don't know.." Buffy's voice trailed off. "I tripped over something. I'm not sure." She reached toward Anya. "Actually, I could use that, please."
Anya gave Willow a satisfied smirk as she handed over the steaming cup. "Be careful. It's quite hot. I made it myself," she added proudly.
"Yeah, opened the packet and poured it in and everything," Willow muttered, rolling her eyes.
"Of course, it was intended for me, but you can have it," Anya said graciously.
There was another pounding at the front door and everyone jumped. Giles rose from Buffy's side to answer it.
"Holy Moses, it's getting cold out there!" Xander entered, stomping his feet and blowing on his hands. "Feels like fall instead of spring." He took note of the group clustered around the couch where Buffy lay. "What's going on? Are you all right? Did Glory.?"
"No." Buffy waved a hand. "No Glory. No nothing. I'm fine. I guess I just tripped and . hit my head or something."
"No you didn't," Spike said, hauling himself to his feet with the aid of an armchair and then collapsing into it. "No head wound. I think you bloody fainted is what."
"I did not!" Buffy objected furiously.
"You are very pale," Giles noted. "When did you last eat?"
"Hah! Told you not to go without a hot meal didn't I?" Dawn was triumphant. "Do I have to be the mom of us now?"
Tara had already left her post, leaning over the back of the couch, to serve up a plateful of spaghetti and garlic bread for Buffy and another for Xander. Buffy received hers gratefully and began wolfing it down. She looked up at her friends, spaghetti noodles trailing down her chin.
They were still staring at her. She gave them a pointed look, and everyone resumed more natural positions seating themselves here and there around the room.
"So, did you find anything out about the knights, Xander?" she asked between bites, taking the focus off her alleged fainting spell.
Xander gulped down his mouthful of spaghetti, almost choking. "Well I, uh, actually never quite made it to the woods. It was so cold, and I didn't see any of the knights to follow so it seemed kind of pointless and.."
"Stopped in at the bar did you?" Anya asked, arms folded and toe tapping. "With those friends from work."
"I didn't think anyone would mind," Xander said, and then asked Buffy, "Were you out looking for me?"
"No. She was looking for Spike," Dawn explained. "He went off with some half-cocked scheme to beat Glory and she went racing after him like the cavalry."
Now everyone's eyes were on Spike.
"You have something to share?" Buffy demanded. "What did you think you'd accomplish in your condition?" She gestured at his purplish bruised face and arms that almost matched his black T-shirt.
Spike sighed and began the Glory equals Ben explanation again, praying that the cloaking spell had died with the hell-god. When he finished, everyone was staring at him open-mouthed.
"So you're saying Glory is Ben and Ben is Glory," Xander slowly reasoned.
"That's what I've been saying the last two days to your valiant leader here." Spike nodded at Buffy. "And to anyone else who would listen. But none of you could retain it for longer than it takes a hooker to drop her drawers."
"Of course!" Giles said thoughtfully. "I should have known the.."
"Don't even start with the 'I would've figured it out eventually' bollocks," Spike interrupted. "You were just as clueless as the rest. It took me to fix things."
"What did you do?" Willow asked. "Find someone to break the cloaking spell? I could've done that if you'd asked, even if I couldn't see the secret the spell was covering."
"Nope. Better than that," Spike said smugly. "I took care of Ben entirely."
"What does that mean?" Willow looked annoyed.
Spike cocked his head and looked at her meaningfully. "I took care of him."
"What did you do?" Buffy practically whispered, lowering her fork to the plate.
"Hired someone to take him out, and there's the end to your troubles!" Spike announced.
" 'Take him out'? You mean kill him?" Xander was looking appraisingly at the vampire.
"You had Ben murdered!" Willow gasped.
"Well, yeah. It was the only way to get rid of your hell-god neat and easy."
"How do you know?" Buffy's even tone was starting to rise. "How do you know it was the only way? For all we know, Ben was an innocent human, a bystander who couldn't help his connection to that ... creature. Maybe I could have talked to him, reasoned with him, worked with him to find a way to control or diminish Glory. You didn't even consult me!"
"I tried, now didn't I? You weak-minded humans couldn't even wrap your minds around the fact that Ben was Glory so how could I possibly get your opinion on the matter?" Spike paused and then resumed indignantly. "And that's what's really chafing you isn't it? That I didn't ask your permission first! You fancy yourself quite the little Napoleon, don't you?"
"What?"
"You can't stand that someone might have a good idea and carry it out without doing it on your command!" his voice rose. "Well bugger that! I'm not your bloody minion."
Buffy, suddenly on the defensive, fumbled for a reply. "I ... You ... You're missing the point. It's wrong to kill people," she tried to explain. Tara nodded agreement. Anya shrugged and cast Spike a sympathetic glance.
"Well, actually," Giles' quiet voice interrupted. "In this instance at least, perhaps what Spike did was justifiable." He settled his glasses on his nose and looked at the Slayer. "Buffy, the whole world weighs quite heavily against the value of one life."
Spike managed not to speak, but looked as smug as the Cheshire cat, folding his arms and settling back into his armchair.
Buffy turned on her Watcher. "I can't believe this. You're taking his side?"
"Not precisely. I do think further investigation might have been in order, but you must admit his method was extremely effective."
"Hear. Hear," Anya supported. "Go team us. We're alive. Glory's dead. What more do you want Buffy?"
"If you can't see it, there's no point in me trying to explain it," Buffy exploded. "It's wrong to take a human life, pure and simple."
"Glory would've taken Dawn eventually. I told you what the scabby little bugger said; the Key was made to open a portal to hell. The bitch would've used Dawn's blood, these things always take blood, and you couldn't have done anything to stop it!" Spike's voice was hard. Dawn looked aghast as the full import of her purpose was revealed to her. "It was the only way," he finished firmly.
Buffy shook her head. "I can't believe that. I won't. Murder is never the way."
"You know," Spike leaned forward in his chair, scowling. "It wouldn't hurt you to show a little bloody gratitude for a change instead of busting my balls. I saved you a lot of pain and trouble and the need to dirty your own delicate little hands with it. If you can't thank me, at least let it go!"
Willow interrupted, "But Spike, the point is that you didn't consult with any of us. Maybe eliminating Ben was the practical way to go, but it couldn't have been the only way. With time and some research maybe I could've found a spell.."
"Oh please, Sabrina! I think a hell-god is a just a tad out of your league," he sneered.
Willow's face grew stormy. "You might be surprised," she snapped.
Spike opened his mouth, ready with a comeback, and Xander raised his hands and stepped between them. "I hate to play devil's advocate," he said, casting a withering glance at Spike, "I mean I really despise it, but I have to admit killing Ben was effective. Not what a moral, sane person would do, of course," he said, catching Buffy's glare, "But Sunnydale's safe again . for a while at least. There may be a little mopping up of the minions to do and we still don't know where those knights fit into all this, but overall, I gotta say I'm going to sleep better tonight knowing Glory's gone."
Buffy looked at Giles, who was intent on polishing his glasses; at Willow, folding her arms and shaking her head; at sympathetic Tara, impatient Anya, conflicted Xander, irritated Spike . and Dawn. There her gaze stopped. Dawn regarded her solemnly with unreadable eyes.
Buffy gave her sister a little smile.
The clock ticked in the silence.
Anya cleared her throat.
"All right." Buffy's disapproval was evident from her stiff posture and even stiffer tone. "I still think it was wrong." She fixed Spike with an intense stare. "And you can call me Napoleon but I don't want any more decisions made without consulting me first! Anyway, it's done now." She toyed with the spaghetti noodles on her plate then set it on the coffee table. She looked up at Dawn again, "Well ... I guess we can all go home."
Buffy rose unsteadily from the couch. Retrieving Spike's coat, which was crumpled beneath her, she tossed it at him. He caught it, jaw tightening in disappointment at the reception his news had received.
Following Buffy's cue, the rest of the Scoobies dropped the issue and began gathering their possessions, tacitly ignoring the vampire in their midst. Giles carried Buffy's plate to the kitchen. Spike watched them all for a moment, then leaned back in the chair and closed his eyes with a sigh. He looked bedraggled and exhausted; his hair tufted from the wind, the bruises standing out in high relief against his white skin.
As the others tidied the kitchen and living room, Dawn approached Spike hesitantly. Her eyes were huge as she reached out and lightly touched his arm. His eyes flickered open and, when he saw who it was, he smiled. When she continued to stand there mute, he tilted his head and raised an eyebrow.
"Thank you," Dawn said quietly, frowning a little in her earnestness. She gave his arm a pat. "I'm glad you did it."
He nodded. "It was a pleasure to see him die, Niblet," he admitted just as quietly. She returned his nod and moved away to gather her schoolbooks.
Tara and Willow left after insisting the Buffy make a doctor's appointment if she had any more dizzy spells.
"Come on, Buff, Dawnster, your carriage awaits," Xander said jauntily as he ushered Anya and Dawn out to his car.
"Just a minute Xander. I'll be right there." Buffy turned and looked back at Spike from the open door. She walked over toward him, arms crossed over her chest, and stood there a moment watching his non-responsive face.
"Spike, I don't approve of what you did to Ben, but I do owe you thanks for bringing me here tonight. I don't know exactly what happened, but I was pretty much vampire-bait out there. So ... thanks," she said brusquely.
He shrugged and replied without opening his eyes, "Don't mention it."
Buffy shifted around a little and the silence dragged. Finally she burst out in a rush, "Why do you do it? Why do you keep trying to help me? What's your angle?"
His eyes opened halfway and he fixed her with a heavy-lidded stare. "You really wanna know, Slayer?" he asked pointedly.
She paused and answered softly, "No. Maybe not," then turned and left quickly.
Spike settled back in his chair once more, eyes closed, an almost-smile playing at the corners of his mouth.
Giles strode out of the kitchen with the bottle of Scotch and two glasses. He poured and handed one to Spike then sat on the couch across from him and watched the vampire knock it back.
Pouring his own drink, he swirled the amber liquid around the glass thoughtfully.
"You remember what I said last year?" he asked. "About obsession?"
Spike made a non-committal, "Mmph," and held out his glass for another shot.
Giles withheld the bottle and pierced him with a level stare, "Listen well, Spike, and learn - There is no place for you in Buffy's life."
Spike snorted and shook his head then set the empty glass on the coffee table. He rose, shrugged his coat on and limped toward the door without a backward glance.
"Spike!"
"What?" With a resigned sigh, he cast a look over his shoulder.
Spike neatly caught the half-empty bottle, looked at the label, and dipped his head in acknowledgement of the gesture before slipping silently out the door.
***********
Spike fully intended to go straight home. His body ached like a root canal without Novacain and he could barely concentrate on walking. Maybe that's why his feet carried him almost five blocks out of his way to pass by Buffy's house on his way to the crypt.
He leaned against the tree in the front yard, rapidly emptying the Watcher's bottle of Scotch as he watched the illuminated stage of the Summers' living room. Buffy and Dawn were seated on the couch in front of the window where he could clearly see their profiles as they talked. Dawn was speaking intensely, tears coursing down her cheeks. Buffy smiled and replied, brushing back Dawn's long brown hair and leaning forward to press a kiss to her forehead.
They made a pretty picture, and Spike ached to be there with them in the warmth and light. Buffy stood and drew the drapes. He sighed and walked on, stumbling slightly on an uneven patch in the sidewalk. He cursed as he caught his balance, threw the empty bottle in someone's lawn and continued on toward home, ready to crawl down in his cellar and not move for three days.
He didn't notice that across the street from the Summers' house, the driver of a black van started the engine and cruised slowly away.
********
Late the following afternoon Buffy walked out of the free clinic with another positive test result and a Facts You Should Know About You and Your Baby pamphlet. After a day of job hunting and being turned down by every business in Sunnydale except the Doublemeat Palace, which not only took her application but gave her an interview on the spot, she had stopped into the clinic on a whim and prayed that the home test she had taken would prove to be a mistake. It wasn't.
Buffy didn't know how much of her stomach rolling like a sailor on shore leave was due to nerves and how much due to hormones run amok. In one brief stab of honesty and clarity, she realized she was grateful to Spike for solving the Glory problem. It left her free to concentrate on the huge decision she was going to have to make very soon.
The stack of unpaid bills on her dresser - medical, funerary and household - were telling her to use logic and terminate the pregnancy. Her heart was already decorating her mom's office as a nursery and picking out baby clothes. She simultaneously wished she could share the news with Riley and was grateful that he was out of reach so she needn't consult him.
Buffy sighed and looked down at the cover of the pamphlet, which showed a smiling young mother cradling a newborn. Tears began to well in her eyes, and she blinked them away furiously. Oh no. Not going there again. Today she was strong Buffy, decision-making Buffy, in-control Buffy, not weepy- eyed, crybaby Buffy. With a last sniffle she tucked the brochure into her purse along with the sample of pre-natal vitamins the nurse had given her and set off for home at a brisk pace, planning what cupboard leavings she could put together for Dawn's dinner.
**********
Spike was on a redecorating expedition. When he woke that evening and took a good look around the crypt, he realized it wasn't exactly Buffy-friendly. It wasn't enough to be as good-looking as he was, his crypt must also have the appropriate furnishings and décor to make Buffy feel comfortable and at home if she came by. Of course there was no indication that she would ever be visiting him for any reason other than buying information, but a fellow had to have hope - had to make a plan and stick with it to keep himself moving through life.
He was on a mission to dismantle a sumptuous bed he'd found while shopping in the U-Lock-It storage bays and reassemble it in the crypt basement piece by piece. This would take several trips and a lot more strength than he currently possessed, but he was determined to have it done by the end of the night.
He walked through Restfield Cemetery singing softly about love and loss and redemption as told by the Clash, when far across the open ground he saw a familiar blond head shining in the moonlight. Buffy was whirling, kicking and stabbing with her stake. A shower of dust particles soon glittered in the ambient light, surrounding her like a halo.
"My angel of death," he murmured to himself. He approached her stealthily, slipping from shadow to shadow until he stood behind a monument only a few yards away. "Spike," she said without even turning. "You're going to get a hole in the heart one of these times trying to stalk me like that. Why can't you just walk up and say hello like a normal person?"
"Thought you were still pissed at me," he answered, falling in step beside her. "Thought you might try and rearrange my nose again."
"I am still pissed at you. What you did was wrong. But did you miss the part where I said thanks for helping me?"
"Didn't think you meant it."
"I did, but if you're fishing for more gratitude, that's as much as you get."
They walked in silence for a few minutes, listening to the night noises and scanning for enemies. Spike shot a few sidelong looks at Buffy, gauging her health. She looked a little less peaked than she had yesterday and maybe just a mite less worried, but there was still something off about her. Had been ever since he'd returned to Sunnydale. He couldn't quite place it. Something about her body, her movements, her very being was different.
He moved closer to her side and unobtrusively inhaled her scent, listened to her breathing, listened to her heartbeat. Her heartbeat . That was it! Somewhere under Buffy's strong, steady pulse was another rhythm, lighter and quicker but undeniable. Spike froze in his tracks.
Buffy walked on another yard before she noticed his absence. She turned and looked at him. "What?"
"You're pregnant," he blurted, raising his hand and pointing like the accusing boyfriend in a bad soap opera.
Buffy stared at him, wide-eyed. "What?"
"With child. Knocked up. Watermelon in the cupboard. Punching out a puppy. In a delicate condition."
"How do you . How could you know that?" She was too shocked to bother to deny it.
"Can hear its heart beating away in there," he answered, staring perplexedly at her still-flat abdomen. "How long?"
"Almost three months." Her arms went into their typical defensive cross.
"When did you find out?"
"Two nights ago. Today for sure."
"You gonna track down Finn and tell him?"
"He's in a Central American jungle somewhere. I don't know."
"Planning on keeping it?"
"I don't know!" Buffy's voice was taking on an edge and Spike stopped grilling her. She turned and began walking again and he followed behind.
"Your friends know yet?" he asked after a little bit. "The Watcher?"
She spun around, eyes flashing. "You ask me one more question and I'm going to punch you in the nose!"
"You should talk to them. You'll feel better," he pressed on, ignoring her flaring nostrils and tensing muscles. "At least, maybe that quiet girl, Willow's bird. She seems a soft shoulder to cry on."
"I'll tell them when I'm ready. I just found out myself and I don't know what the hell I'm doing." Spike realized her angry eyes were also glistening with tears and her chin was quivering. "I can't even keep my mom's African violet alive, how can I be trusted with a baby?"
"You want to keep it," Spike said slowly and appraisingly. "I can tell. You're mucking about telling yourself you have options but inside you've already decided."
"I h-have not. I can't have a baby. It's all I can do to keep me and Dawn afloat, to keep a roof over our heads. And then there's my slaying. It's impossible." She was snuffling back tears in earnest now. Spike took a step closer and reached out a tentative hand to pat her back.
"There've been Slayers with children before," he started to explain, then bit his tongue remembering how that particular Slayer had died. "You should do what you want."
His reassurance only produced a loud burst of sobs, and Buffy covered her face with her hands. "Stop it! Stop b-being n-nice!" she wailed.
Without further encouragement, Spike moved from back-patting to holding. He slipped his arms around the Slayer and pressed her against his chest. She was heaving and sobbing but not pushing him away or hitting him, so he took it as a good sign and started stroking her back, murmuring soothing little "there nows".
"Shhh, love," he whispered into her hair, mentally adding a thousand other endearments (my heart, my sweet, my goddess). "Shh." He tightened his hold and found that she had relaxed into him, moving her hands from her face to the front of his shirt, which she was clutching in each fist. He nuzzled the top of her head and continued smoothing his hands up and down her back. She felt so warm and soft, if a bit soggy, he wished she'd have a crying fit every day.
Buffy stood in his embrace for almost five precious minutes before she regained her composure and pushed away. She scrubbed furiously at her eyes and wiped her runny nose on the hem of her shirt. "This is ridiculous," she muttered. "I'm a faucet!"
"Never mind, pet. It's the hormones. You've got to expect you'll be a bit wonky for awhile." He gently took her elbow and started escorting her home. She shook off his hand but continued to walk by his side, shuffling disconsolately through the grass.
They walked in silence again until they reached her street and stopped in front of her house. Buffy looked up at the windows, lights blazing in each one. "Great, Dawn, run up the electric bill," she complained. "Dawn is a curse sent to pay me back for every time I opened my window while the air conditioning was on or left the fridge door wide open after I got out a snack." She smiled ruefully and met Spike's eyes for the first time since she'd allowed him to comfort her.
He smiled back, but kept his hands to himself.
Before she started up the walk to the house, he said, "Just do what your heart tells you, pet." Then he added with a mischievous grin, "But remember the little blighter will probably be a potato-nosed jackass like his dad or worse yet, you might unleash another Summers woman on the world."
Buffy started to laugh in spite of herself, choked it back and punched Spike in the arm - hard. He dodged away, rubbing his shoulder and mock scowling. He watched her up the walk and into the house before heading off to his previously scheduled errand.
His mind was busy weighing pros and cons as he walked toward the factory. On the plus side, Buffy was more emotionally fragile than he'd ever seen her and needed someone to help her through her crisis and he was poised to step in and do just that. On the downside . There was no downside! Finn's little sprog was just the key he'd needed to unlock Buffy. Spike would show her how dependable and protective and whatever-the-bloody-hell- else she needed he could be. He would provide her with everything and in return, eventually, he would get everything he had hoped for.
Inroads! Oh yeah.
He stopped grinning and walking as a sudden thought dashed holy water in the face of his plan. What if the soldier came back? What if Buffy located him and called him home to do his manly duty?
Spike shrugged and continued on his way. Best not to put the cart on the eggs in the basket. One worry at a time. After all, mail could be intercepted. As could people who showed up where they weren't wanted.
To be continued..