Chapter Ten: The art of giving
She eventually got him to take her home by inventing something William needed, something only she knew the location of, and hobbled to the elevator on her crutches while Spike pushed William, once more wrapped up warm in his stroller. The main elevator took them right down to the underground car park and Buffy swallowed her fear as she moved slowly across the dimly-lit concrete box. Spike wouldn't do anything to her here, and besides, she could always beat the shit out of him with her crutches.
She laughed when she saw his car.
"What," he grumbled, "it's a design classic."
"It's a hunk of junk."
"Well, yeah, maybe. Look, just get in."
She took her time checking that William was properly fastened in, and pushed her seat all the way back to accommodate her ankle cast.
"Look, there are times when I'm fully mobile," she said.
"I remember," Spike gave her a sideways glance, and Buffy was glad it was dark so he couldn't see her blush.
It took about thirty seconds to get to her house - or so it felt, with Spike's insane driving.
"You do know there's a baby in the back of this car?"
"Yes, love."
"So maybe you might want to slow down?"
"Why?"
He had one hand on the wheel and the other arm resting on the window frame.
"You're hardly driving safely!"
"Sure I am."
"No, you're-" Buffy squeezed her eyes shut as he cornered at about forty miles an hour. "Are you trying to get us all killed?"
Spike glanced in the rear view mirror. William was grinning happily.
"He's enjoying it."
"Yes, well, maybe he inherited his father's lack of brain cells."
She stomped up the steps, completely ignoring Spike's offer of help, and it took her about twenty minutes to get to the top. Several times she thought she'd fall, but Spike was right there behind her, and she felt a weird sense of relief knowing he'd catch her.
At the top, she hesitated. Best not to let Spike know she'd invented this mysterious item.
"I, er, need to be alone for this," she said. "It's sort of a private thing."
He backed off. "Right. No problem."
Thank God all men were terrified of the inner workings of the female body.
"And you know what," Buffy added, "I think I'm gonna take a bath while I'm up here." More time alone to get her head in order. "Will can go down for a nap," she pointed to his room.
Spike went in: it still had most of Joyce's things here, only the bed was missing. In its place was a wooden cot that he somehow knew Xander had made. It was the sort of thing he'd do. Toys were scattered around and there was a big pile of baby clothes sitting on the rocker in the corner.
"Just lay him down - yeah, that's it," Buffy said.
"Does he want a blanket?"
"No. He always kicks it off. He'll be warm enough as it is - if he has any complaints he usually lets me know."
"Do you have a monitor for him?"
Buffy closed her eyes momentarily. "No," she said, her face closed. "I just listen. I'm going to take a bath," she repeated.
Spike didn't move.
"You don't have to stay here," she prompted.
"Right." He looked at his watch. "Maybe I'll watch a bit of TV. Give me a yell if you need anything."
Yes, Buffy thought, for you to go. But she nodded and stumped out of the room, got a towel from the airing cupboard, and shut herself in the bathroom. She heard Spike go down the stairs and let out a sigh of relief.
How the hell was she supposed to deal with him just turning up like that? What gave him the right to determine when they met? Why was it always him coming to her and not the other way around?
Did she want to go to him?
Damn it, Buffy, she cursed herself as she eased off the skirt Dawn had sent her - thank God she'd had the sense not to send trousers which would never have gone over the cast - you just don't know what you want, do you? You get all prissy about Spike betraying you and taking advantage of you - well, you could have stopped him last night. You were hardly an unwilling victim, were you?
She leaned over to check the water temperature. A long, hot bath was a luxury she hardly ever allowed herself - a quick shower was all she ever had time for, and the water was never hot enough.
Her position was precarious, sitting on the edge of the bath wrapped in a towel, balancing on one foot while the other stayed immobile in the air, and when Spike banged on the door she lost her balance and wavered perilously close to the water.
"Shit," Buffy gasped, and shoved at the side of the bath, pushing herself away and ricocheting back onto the floor with a series of painful thuds.
"Buffy?" The door burst open - now why hadn't she locked it? - and Spike rushed in, holding a garbage bag of all things. He saw her on the floor and was at her side in an instant. "What happened? Did you fall? I heard-"
"I lost my balance," she grumbled, sitting up and pulling her towel about her a little more modestly, wishing it was a little bigger. And slightly smarter - today of all days she'd picked the oldest towel in the cupboard, faded and frayed-
"Are you all right, love?" He was kneeling by her, face full of concern, hands on her arms. "You're supposed to be taking it easy-"
"I'm not made of bloody glass," Buffy snapped. "I've given birth to a baby, I can survive a broken ankle."
Spike gave her a bit of a smile.
He was awfully close.
And very warm.
Hot, even.
His lips touched hers and he kissed her with such sweetness Buffy found herself sighing. Lord, but the man could kiss. His hands ran up to her shoulders and she slid her arms around his neck, sitting there on the floor wearing only a towel, kissing him.
Kissing him.
Bollocks.
"Spike, no," she pulled gently away. "It's not - we can't-" she sighed. "There's too much to figure out," she said.
"Did we have to figure it out last night?"
"Maybe we should have?"
He tilted up her chin. "Tell me you didn't want it."
"I told you, I was lonely and horny-"
"So if I'd been just any guy, you'd have shagged me?"
Buffy closed her eyes. "Don't do this."
"Do what? Talk? Kiss? Try to figure out what the hell is going on in that pretty little head of yours? 'Cos, Summers, I have no sodding idea."
He stood up and walked out, and Buffy heard the front door slam a few seconds later.
She put her head in her hands and took a few deep breaths. She didn't need to cry. She'd been through far worse than this. Crying was not needed at such a pathetically pointless time in her life.
She lifted her head. So he'd walked out? So what?
So, now she needed to figure out how to stand up by herself.
Rats.
Spike leaned against his car and lit a cigarette. It was all her fault, damn her. How could she be so contradictory? So hot and cold? All right, so maybe it had been one of the things he'd liked about her but...
But...
God, had it always been so annoying?
Any other girl and he could have walked away. But this was his wife, and that was his son.
His son.
He'd thought about it so much since Buffy had left. How old the kid would be now. A boy or a girl? His blue eyes or her green. What kind of school would it go to? Would it ride Chocolat when it was older? What would he get it for its first Christmas?
Well, Christmas had been and gone, marked by a spectacular lack of caring on his part. He dimly recalled a bottle of scotch from one of his sisters and some bourbon from the other. Neither had lasted long. He hadn't heard from his dad or Glory. Just as well. Probably he'd have flown at them and ended up in jail again.
He got in the car and drove around the corner - it wouldn't do for Buffy to see him there like some lovesick puppy.
Not that he was a lovesick puppy.
He lit up another cigarette and sighed. It was just ridiculous. There was Buffy, hardly able to cope, and here he was with nothing to do and a willingness to help. But she'd never accept his help.
He thought for a bit, then put the car in gear and drove to the high school.
Most of the girls looked at Spike as they left the school to get in their cars or on their buses, to go to parents or friends. He leaned against the main gate, hair gleaming in the afternoon sun, smoke curling around him in an enticing cloud.
"Hey, you can't smoke here," someone said, and he turned his head, slowly, to see a small timid man with History Teacher written all over him.
"Make me stop," Spike said, and the teacher ran away.
"Can you scare him into letting me off homework, too?" asked a voice on his other side, and he looked down to see Dawn with her eyebrows raised.
"I'll shoot his rocks off if it'll make you happy, love," he said.
She looked like she was considering it. "Yeah, but then we'd just get a sub," she said eventually, and Spike grinned. "What are you doing here?"
"Need your help, bit."
She frowned. "What kind of help?"
"I'll explain on the way."
"The way where?"
"You'll see."
Dawn went to tell her friend Janice she wouldn't need a lift home, and followed Spike to his car, her street cred rising visibly as everyone clocked her with this fabulous-looking man.
He drove her to the gallery, which was closed for the day, and asked, "You got a key?"
She shook her head. "Buffy does..."
"Not gonna ask Buffy." He got out of the car, and when she didn't follow, looked back and said, "you wanta just watch, or what?"
"Watch what?" Dawn asked nervously. "Does this place have an alarm?" he asked, looking up at the faded sign above the door.
"Yes-"
"Know the code?"
"I think so."
"Good." He got something out of his pocket and had the door open in seconds. "Go put the code in."
Terrified, Dawn, did as she was told, and relaxed when the alarm flashed green to tell her it was disabled.
"Did you just pick that lock?"
"Yep." Spike was looking around. "What's the return on this place?"
"Uh-"
"How much money does it make?"
"Maybe a couple hundred a week."
"A couple of hundred dollars? That's eight hundred a month - for two of you plus a baby? Bills, food, childcare, clothes, everything?"
Dawn nodded. Spike whistled.
"No wonder she hasn't had her roots done."
She giggled. "Thank God I stuck with my natural colour."
"Suits you," Spike said vaguely, and wandered around the gallery. It was a good space, a high ceiling with a galleried section running around the top. Mostly it was scuplture and larger pieces downstairs, with fine art upstairs, reached by a spiral staircase. He stopped in front of a large canvas splattered with shades of bile green and orange. It was titled Entropy.
"You know," he said, apparently to himself although Dawn knew he was talking to her, "when I was a kid I went on a school trip to the Tate Modern. And I was completely gobsmacked."
"Was that when you got into art?" Dawn asked, remembering Buffy telling her that Spike had quite an eye, and was not averse to stealing national treasures for personal gain.
"No. In fact, that's what put me off for a good ten years. The place was full of crap like this," he pointed to Entropy. "Meaningless shit. Will could do this. It's sodding pathetic. But thick-as-shit rich people buy it, because they think it's worth something."
"Isn't it?"
"Not worth the canvas it's painted on, niblet."
"I think the artist is one of the regulars."
"Yeah, well," he gave her a deprecating smile, "much as I love Buffy, she's dumb as a rock when it comes to art. She's been taken for a ride."
"You love Buffy?" Dawn asked.
"Of course I do. Didn't you know that?"
She shrugged nervously. "She always said - I mean, since Will was born - that you only wanted her to get your heir."
Spike narrowed his eyes. "And there I was forgetting how much I hate her, too. Listen, love, I must be insane. I want to help your sister. She is still my wife - legally, at least. And Will is my son. And yeah, so I want him. I don't give a fuck about the title - sodding Glory can delude herself about being the first woman in Britain to inherit an earldom if she really wants, but I'll give it up any day."
Dawn regarded him with quite astonishingly clear blue eyes, rather like Will's. "What about Glory? Buffy said-"
"Yes? What did Buffy say?"
"That you and she were..."
"Whatever it was, it wasn't true. Glory made it up. She was trying to drive Buffy away and I guess it worked."
"Why didn't you go after her?"
"I did. I sodding did. As soon as I heard about your - as soon as I heard," he caught the look on her face and softened his voice, "I came. And she told me Will was dead. She said she never wanted to see me again. Wanted me to go. And I - look, fuck this. It's done now. It's over. It's time to make things better."
Dawn's face was wary. "You hurt my sister or my nephew and I'll personally see to it that you can never have any more children. Ever."
Spike held up his hands. "When did you get so scary?"
"Right about the time my mom died and my sister brought home a sick baby."
Spike looked impressed. "Will you help me?"
"What do you need?"
Spike smiled.
Buffy woke up when Dawn closed the door and called, "Buffy?"
"Yeah?"
"It's very quiet in here."
She heard her sister come up the stairs and into her room. "I was taking a nap."
Dawn's eyes gleamed. "Spike wore you out?"
Buffy blushed hard. "Dawn! I'm catching up on my sleep, thank you very much."
"How did Spike and Will get on?"
Buffy frowned lightly. "I think they liked each other," she said. "Well, Will liked him. Spike... I'm not sure. He was quiet. Not as cocky." She looked up at her sister. "You're late."
"I, er, I went out shopping with Janice. Thought you were still with Spike."
"No. He brought us home."
"Will too?"
"You think I'd leave him?"
Dawn shrugged and smiled. "Of course not. But..."
"What?" Buffy asked patiently.
"Well, he is Will's father... And I think you were a little bit harsh to him... He said you told him Will was-"
"I did."
"Why?"
Buffy looked up at her sister's sweet face, so worldly in some ways and so innocent in others, and tried to think of a way to put it. "He hurt me," she said. "I wanted to take away the one thing that would hold him to me. Dawn," she went on, when she saw her sister's face turn, "listen. You don't know what it was like. I mean - I know you had to go through everything with Mom on your own and I'm so sorry I wasn't here. And I started to hate Spike for keeping me away. And then I saw him with Glory, and then I - God, if you only knew..."
"Knew what?" Dawn asked, her face stony.
"I thought I was going to die. And after that labour I was sure Will was going to be dead. And when I woke up and he wasn't there, I... I thought he was. And just then, I felt free, like I could come back here and start over. No Spike. Forget about it all. And it just seemed so much easier to tell Spike that was what happened."
"Did you really think he wouldn't find out? From Giles, or Willow or someone?"
Buffy sighed. "I don't know. I was terrified he would, but after I saw his face I knew he wanted nothing to do with me."
"Well, he does," Dawn stood up. "And I don't think he's going to give Will up without a fight either."
She got up and walked out, and Buffy flopped back on her pillows.
"My ankle's fine by the way," she yelled.
Dawn didn't reply.
Great, Buffy thought. Again with the having two children. I wouldn't mind so much if she didn't occasionally lull me into thinking she was an adult. It's not fair: I treat her like an adult, I get snapped at. I treat her like a kid, I get snapped at.
She heaved herself out of bad and grabbed her crutches, straightened her pyjamas and hopped through to Will's room. He was lying there awake, perfectly happy gazing at the mobile Xander had hung above his crib. He hardly seemed to notice Buffy, but he heard her start to sing and waved his arms at her.
"You are my sunshine, my only sunshine, you make me happy when skies are grey..."
Dawn came to the door and listened. She just about remembered Mom singing that to her and Buffy when they were small.
"You'll never know, dear, how much I love you..."
Buffy stopped and reached out to touch Will's face. She didn't say the last line, but Dawn felt it hanging heavy in the air.
Please don't take my sunshine away.
A.N: So let's say I have no life. Here's another update… just to keep you tickled. I didn't get too soppy there, did I? Keep the reviews coming and I will update more swiftly… see, you give a little, you get a little. Hugs and puppies all round J