Woah, that was the longest break ever.  Sorry.  I had some actual work to do.  Don't worry, it doesn't happen often...

Chapter Three

            When Buffy had finally given Spike an ultimatum: get rid of the car or get rid of me and the kids, he'd reluctantly sold the DeSoto.  Buffy had a boring Mom-van that Spike couldn't get in without hiding under his leather jacket - which didn't make for very safe driving - so he'd gone out looking for his own car.

            Buffy didn't quite approve of his choice, but after he'd seduced her a couple of times in the back, she was starting to come around.  "It's not very practical," she'd say, and he'd take his shirt off.  "And it's waay too fast," and he'd take her shirt off.  "And one of these days someone's going to steal it," and he'd slide his tongue into her bra.  "And you can't fit a car seat into the-" he'd slip his fingers inside her knickers, "-back of it, the seats are too... God, Spike..."

            After a while, Buffy stopped complaining about the car, and once or twice Spike had even found her curled up on the back seat in her underwear, waiting for him.

            The memory made him smile as he purred to a halt outside Alice's kindergarten.  He'd picked the car that best matched his self-image; always had.  Back in the day it had been the DeSoto: rough around the edges but you knew you were going to have fun, even if there was a strong possibility of death involved.  And now he had his Aston Martin: expensive, sleek, powerful and so explosively sexual that grown women had been known to pass out at the sight of it.

            He got out, ran a hand through his hair, and smirked at the gawping mothers in their SUVs.

            Inside, there was only Alice and a couple of other kids waiting with the teacher.  Spike ignored the soccer-mom trying to attract his attention and strode over to his little girl, who squealed with delight when he swung her up in the air.

            "Daddy!  You woke up."

            He laughed.  "Yeah, sweetheart, I did."

            "Where's Mommy?"

            "Gone to pick Will up.  Hey, you want me to call her and we'll meet them in town for ice cream?"

            Alice nodded enthusiastically, and Spike put her down and got out his phone.  But he was halted by the teacher, who waved for his attention.

            "You're Alice's father?"

            He nodded proudly.  "Sure am."

            "She talks about you a lot.  Seems to think you're some sort of Indiana Jones hero."  The teacher, a young African American man, smiled at him.  Spike smiled back.

            "I'm an art dealer," he said.  "I travel a lot."

            "Yes, and I'm slightly worried about that.  Children Alice's age need a lot of stability - they need their parents to be the same from one day to the next."

            "I am the same," Spike said, slightly annoyed.

            "Yes, but you're frequently absent.  The other children have fathers and stepfathers who they see every day-"

            "The hell they do.  Half of them never see their fathers at all."

            "Yes, but that's a state that never varies.  The other thing that concerns me is, well..." the teacher sighed.  "Alice has made pictures of you," he said, and took a few out of a folder on his desk.  Spike looked through at them, grinning.

            "Hey.  Kid's got talent," he beamed at Alice, who giggled shyly and hid behind his legs.

            "At first I thought she was being over-imaginative," the teacher said.  "But now I see she has a remarkable eye for detail..."

            His gaze travelled over Spike's leather duster, platinum hair and biker boots; the silver chain at his neck and the rings on his fingers.

            "She draws many pictures of you killing people," the teacher went on, when Spike didn't seem to be fazed by his visual examination.

            "Oh, hey, come on, Alice, I don't kill people," he said, frowning at his daughter, who pouted in return.

            "Mommy said you killed Glory."

            "Glory killed herself.  I just... helped her a bit.  And it was her fault, she was trying to kill me and your brother."

            "And that bad man in England..."

            "Angel?  He was wanted by about thirty worldwide governments, sweetheart, I was doing people a favour."

            The teacher was frowning at this.  "The other parents have expressed discomfort at their children being in a class with a murderer," he said.

            Spike rolled his eyes.  "I'm not a sodding murderer," he said.  "I don't kill people for fun."  Well, not any more, he added to himself.  "If I was a cop, would there be a problem?  No.  If I was in the army, would there be a problem?  Just 'cos I've occasionally had cause to use lethal blows in the course of self-defence doesn't mean I make a habit of killing innocent people.  'Sides," he added, picking Alice up again, "I'd never, ever hurt a child.  Not now I've got my own, and not before that, either.  I bloody saved a kid's life the other day, you know.  If you're going to go around accusing an innocent bloke of evil things, then I'm not sure I want you in charge of my little girl," he finished, and walked out, carrying Alice with him.

            He put her in the car, fastened her into her car seat, and roared off.  That was another good thing about the Aston: it made such a satisfyingly angry sound.

            "Daddy?" Alice said, before he got around to putting the Sex Pistols on (something he'd made Alice swear to tell her mother he never did).  "Why were you shouting at Mr. Wood?"

            "Because he was pissing me off."

            "I like him."

            "I know you do, love," Spike said, softening.  "And your mum does too, so he can't be that bad.  Not that she's the best judge of character," he added under his breath, thinking of her last boyfriend, twat-of-the-century Riley Finn.  "I was just angry, that's all."

            "Why?"

            "Because he was trying to say I'm not a good dad to you."

            "Why?"

            "Because I dress differently and I do different things."

            "Mommy's different too.  She says all the other mommies are brain-dead Martha Stewarts."

            Spike cracked a grin.  "Well, she's right."

            "What's a brain-dead Martha Stewart?"

            At that he laughed.  "Someone the opposite of your mum."

            He set his mobile into the car phone cradle - so maybe he occasionally didn't bother, but when he had one of his children in the car, safety was extremely important - and dialled Buffy's number.  "Where are you?"

            "Just come out of school.  Why?"

            "I promised Alice some ice cream.  Wanna meet up at the Espresso Pump?"

            He parked the Aston at the kerb, ignoring the signs that told him not to, and took Alice inside.  She picked out a triple chocolate fudge sundae he knew she'd eat about three spoonfuls of, so he got some coffee for himself and a second spoon for Alice's sundae.

            Buffy turned up five minutes later, Will in tow, and got herself some coffee.  Then she looked at her husband's face, and ordered him a large hot chocolate with whipped cream.  And marshmallows.

            "Okay, what's up?"

            He stirred the cream into the chocolate.  "Am I an absentee father?"

            Buffy considered this.  "Yes.  Why do you ask?"

            "I'm not, am I?" Spike said, looking hurt.

            "Well, you're hardly here.  You turn up occasionally, lavish gifts on the children and extravagant sex on me, and then you go away again to risk your life for some stupid piece of art.  Does that answer your question?"

            She saw his lip go pouty.  He was sulking.

            "Spike," she said, more gently.  "Listen.  I'm not mad at you.  I mean, I wish things could be different, but I know you.  You're not the sitting at home type."

            "Time was, neither were you."

            Buffy glanced at Will and Alice, who were playing violently on the floor.  "Yes, well, I had to change."

            He looked mournful.  "So you did," he said, and wouldn't say any more on the subject.

            Thankfully right then Anya walked in, wandered up to the counter and ordered one cup of takeaway coffee, and one cup of hot chocolate with lemon juice and cappuccino foam.

            Buffy grinned and waved her over.  "Cravings again?"

            "I don't know what it is.  I just can't eat normal things any more."

            "Could be something to do with that baby you're having," Spike observed, and Anya made a face.

            "I'm bored with being pregnant now.  How do you make it stop?"

            "Generally you wait another three months and then give birth," Buffy said.

            "Can't I make it stop now?"  Anya collected her drinks and glanced at the children on the floor.  "What are you doing?"

            "We're playing Eowyn and the Witch King," Will informed her.  "I'm the Witch King."

            "I'm Eowyn," Alice said proudly, and charged at her brother, shoving him to the floor.

            "Excellent," Anya said, beaming at them.  "Play on.  Buffy, Spike, can I borrow them?"

            "What?"

            "Can I borrow them.  Your children," Anya explained patiently, as if this was normal.  "Xander wants to practice parenthood again."

            Spike hid his smile in his hot chocolate.  Buffy said, "Sure, but Will's going to a friend's tonight."

            "He is?" Spike said.  "Who?"

            "Tony.  They play soccer together."

            Spike opened his mouth to say that he had never heard of any kid called Tony, and since when had Will played soccer?  But then he realised that to do so would just compound his problems.

            "I'll take Alice then.  I'll send Xander over to pick her up about seven?"  Anya said, and Buffy nodded.

            "Sure.  Looks like we get a night to ourselves," Buffy winked at Spike.

            "Okay," Anya said on her way out, and added brightly, "but please don't start having sex until after Xander's gone.  He's still traumatised from last time he saw you boinking."

            Buffy froze.  Spike winced.

            "He what?" Buffy managed.

            "When he brought the chair back this afternoon.  He opened the door and Spike was giving you oral sex on the stairs," Anya said, as if reporting the contents of the six o'clock news.  "He walked into the shop completely dazed.  And quite turned on.  Actually he got me to-"

            "I'll pay you to stop there," Spike said.

            "How much?" Anya looked interested.

            "One free evening of my daughter's company.  We'll see you later," he said firmly, and Anya, wrinkling her nose, left with her drinks.  "Buffy, love?"

            "What's oral sex?" Alice wanted to know.

            "It's a kind of sweetie," Spike told her.  "Very good to eat."

            "Can I have some?"

            "No!" both her parents yelled.  "It's only for grown-ups," Spike added hurriedly, before turning to his wife and asking, "You okay, pet?"

            "Did you know he was there?"

            "I, er," Spike debated telling her he'd been fully aware of Xander opening the door, although he'd still had his back turned.  "I didn't see him, no," he said carefully.

            Buffy was crimson, hiding her head in her hands.  "Oh God.  I can't believe he saw us.  I mean - oh God!"

            "It's not as if he thought you were a virgin, love," Spike said drily.

            "I know, but - I did not need him to see me - to see us - oh, God!"

            "Is this going to go on?" Spike asked.  "Should I get another drink?"

            "You cheered up," Buffy said.  "Aren't you in the least embarrassed?"

            "That another bloke saw me getting you off?  Not really.  Badge of pride and all that.  Come on, love.  It's not that bad."

            "It totally is," Buffy groaned, and it took about twenty minutes for him to persuade her to show her face again.

            The children, blissfully ignorant of their mother's embarrassment, whined boredly to go home so they set off in convoy - Spike and Alice arriving ten minutes ahead of Buffy and Will, whose SUV got ignored at every turning - and Spike stood back and watched Buffy go through her after school routines.  First the kid's bags were emptied - this had become a daily habit after she found a three-week-old apple in Will's rucksack - and lunchboxes were rinsed out.  Then the kids changed out of their school clothes, and Buffy packed an overnight bag for each of them, fetching sleeping bags and spare pillows from the attic, making sure that favourite cuddly toys were safely packed, and that Alice's favourite mug - the only one she'd currently drink out of - had been added to her luggage.

            Then she made the kids' dinner while they watched TV, and Spike cornered her by the microwave and said, "How do you do all this?"

            "What do you mean, how?"

            "I mean, this is your day off, right?  You've spent all of it looking after the kids."

            "It's not my sole day off," Buffy said.  "I usually go in when Alice is at kindergarten.  I just figured it might be nice to spend some time with you."

            He sighed, and let her go to the stove.  "That's just it though, isn't it?  Spending time with me?  I'm never here."

            "You're here enough."

            "Don't sound too happy about it."

            Buffy glanced at him, and saw the set of his jaw.  She turned off the heat under the oil she was heating for an omelette and came over to him, slipping her arms about his waist.

            "I'm not happy about it," she said.  "I wish you were here more.  I wish you never left my sight.  But... if we spent every hour of every day together, we'd kill each other.  Life is about unfulfilled dreams - if you get what you want, you'll only want more.  I figure not having you here all the time is price enough for having you at all."

            Spike felt his arms slide around her shoulders without his permission.  "So if I was here more...?"

            "I'd be happy," Buffy said.  "I love you, remember?"  She kissed his neck.  "Why?  Are you planning on leaving less?"

            "Yeah.  Figure it's time I stopped missing out on things."

            "Well, good," Buffy said, "'cos that whole unfulfilled wish thing was just a smokescreen.  I don't know what I'd do if you were here any less."

            He drew her in for a kiss and she melted into it, only breaking away when Will sighed behind her and said, "Mom, I'm hungry!"

            She made the kid's tea and curled up with Spike on the sofa to watch the end of whichever Star Trek her offspring were currently obsessed with.  Then she got Will into his coat and shoes and drove him over to his friend's house, coming back just in time to see Xander's car pull up in the driveway.

            I can do this, she told herself, parking beside his Explorer.  I can look him in the eye and pretend nothing happened.

            "What did you make Anya do?" Spike asked Xander as Buffy walked in, and she made an about-turn and ran outside to mess around with her daughter's car seat.  When she came in they were talking about football, and she managed to give Xander a hasty smile before rushing up the stairs - oh God, the stairs! - to get Alice's bag.

            "Uh, here you go," she handed him the bag and pillow and stood hugging the sleeping bag, trying not to look at him.  "Oh!  Guess who I saw yesterday?"

            "Uh who?"  Xander wasn't looking at her either.  Spike as leaning against the banister, looking very amused.

            "Riley!"

            Spike's expression of amusement vanished.  "Captain Cardboard?  You never said."

            "I sort of had other things on my mind," Buffy said, and there was a bit of a silence.

            "So what's he doing back in Sunny D?" Xander asked.

            "Oh, friend of his is getting married - Graham?  To someone at Sunn7ydale U, I should ask Dawn if she knows her..."

            "Or him," Spike muttered.  "Just sayin'."

            "Yeah.  Well.  You ask her," Xander said, and took the sleeping bag, and smiled at Alice.  "Let's go!" he said, and did, all without looking at Buffy.  On his way out he asked, "What happened to your table?"

            They all looked at the pile of broken wood.

            "Termites," Spike said.  "You'd better be going, mate."

            Buffy gave Alice a hug and a kiss, and Spike did the same, then they watched Xander fasten her into his car and drive away, and Buffy shut the door with her eyes closed.

            "I can't believe he saw us."

            Spike backed her against the door.  "Come on.  You used to love doing it in public places."

            "But I don't love my friends seeing me getting..." Buffy couldn't quite bring herself to say it.

            "Getting licked out?  Getting turned on?  Getting your brains fucked out by the man you love?"

            Apparently Spike could.

            "It's just icky," Buffy said.  "It makes me feel all... itchy."

            "Itchy?"

            "Yeah," Buffy said, and looked up into his eyes, which were less cerulean than dark midnight right now.  He was awfully close.

            They were all alone.

            She reached out and turned the key in the door.

            "Itchy," she said, "and kinda hot."  She blinked up at him.  "Do I look hot to you?"

            Spike took a deep breath.  "Always."

            Buffy bit her lip and tried not to grin.  "You better feel me to make sure."

            He laughed.  "That's the worst line I've ever-"

            Buffy rolled her eyes as his hand slid over her hip.  "Works, doesn't it?"

            He kissed her, pinning her back against the door, and Buffy let herself slide against him.

            "We did the table," she said.

            "We did the stairs..."

            "You know," Buffy said, "if you expect me to get any closer to you, you're going to have to take a shower.  'Cos you never did this afternoon."

            Spike grinned.  "Shower it is then," he said, and took her by the hand, pulling her upstairs.  They had their own bathroom now, mercifully free from Nemo toys in the sink and rubber ducks in the bath and suspicious puddles on the floor.  Buffy got out her secret stash of candles and lit them around the bathroom, safe from splashing water behind the shower screen.  Spike came up behind her as she bent over to clear the side of the bath of shampoo bottles, and he felt his erection press against her backside as she straightened up.

            "Mr. Dashwood," she said, "would you be naked?"

            He took her hand and trailed it over his bare hip in reply.

            "No fair," Buffy pouted, "I wanted to undress you."

            She turned in his arms and stepped back a little to look at him.  Breathtaking.  Sometimes she could hardly believe she was married to such a beautiful man.

            In the flickering candlelight he looked like a god - an ancient warrior, scarred from battle, all the more worthy for it.  Buffy slid her palms over his chest, down his hard stomach, to his prominent hipbones and surprisingly soft thighs.  She pressed her body against his.

            "Undress me?"

            His eyes got a little darker and he kissed her, slipping his hands under her shirt and fondling her breasts before unfastening the buttons and letting the garment drop to the floor.  Her skirt came next, and then she stood in just her bra, while Spike caught his breath.

            "Have you been knickerless all afternoon?"

            Buffy bit her lip.

            "At the Espresso Pump and everything?"

            "Well," she traced a finger over his collarbone, "there sort of wasn't any time to put them on..."

            She looked up at him with big green eyes, and Spike growled and tipped her back against the edge of the bath, falling between her knees and licking her, hard.

            "You mean I could have been doing this at any opportunity-?"

            Buffy held onto his shoulders as he licked at her, digging her heel into his back.  Dear God, she could let him do that forever.  But...

            "Weren't we supposed to be having a shower?" she asked, reaching for the showerhead and switching it on, aiming the water at him, and he came up sputtering.

            "What was that for?"

            "Bad Spike," she admonished.  "At least have the manners to take my bra off before you feed your face."

            He complied, under threat of more water, and then picked her up and stood her in the bath, hanging the showerhead back in its place above them.

            Standing naked under the water, he ran his hands over her body.  A little rounder than before, a little softer, and there were some small lines on her stomach that hadn't been there before Will was born.  But she was still his Buffy: more like she was before they met than he was.  He held her to him, her beautiful strong, soft body, and kissed her.  There was mindblowing sex, and then there was the amazing kiss she gave him.  He could kiss her for hours and hours, and if he got the chance often did.

            He dropped his head and kissed her breast, taking one dark pink nipple into his mouth and sucking on it gently.  She moaned slightly and stroked his hair as his hands roamed down her back, cupping her firm little buttocks and kneading gently.

            "Spike," Buffy moaned.  "I want you."

            "Want you too," he said raggedly against her skin.

            "I want you... in my mouth.  Hard, in my mouth."

            He stopped, and looked up at her.  Her eyes were glazed, her hair plastered to her head, and her lips were lush and ripe.

            "What did you say?"

            Buffy put her hands on his shoulders and pushed him down to sit on the edge of the bath.  This time it was her turn to kneel between his legs and take him in her mouth.  Water poured down on them as she licked and sucked, stroked her hands up his inner thighs and cupped his balls gently in one hand.

            "Oh Christ, Buffy..."

            "Mmm," she said, and her voice vibrated through him.

            "You want me... hard in your... Where did that... come from?  Jesus, you really know how... to take a guy to... full speed... in a few seconds..."

            His voice broke on the last word as she very gently used her teeth on him, and he found himself digging his fingers into her wet hair, moving his hips, thrusting into her mouth.  Her hot, tight, wet mouth-

            "Fuck," Spike gasped, and came.

            Buffy swallowed and looked up at him.  "Told you I wanted you," she said.

            "Jesus," he repeated, leaning back against the cold, damp wall.  His body was shaking.  "Have I told you lately that I love you?"

            Buffy grinned.  "You can tell me again.  Or better yet, you can show me..."

            She looked up at him teasingly, and he groaned.

            "Give me a minute."

            Buffy pouted and picked up the soap from the side of the bath.  She stood up under the water and started rubbing the little bar all over herself - arms, torso, legs, breasts, inner thighs, breasts, backside...

            Spike watched her, this golden goddess under cascading water, rubbing lavender soap over her luscious body, and felt himself getting harder.

            When she dropped the soap and turned around to pick it up, he was there behind her, pinning her against the wall so quickly she gasped.  The tiles were cold against her hard nipples, but Spike's body was hot against her back.  Hot and hard, and getting distinctly harder...

            His mouth descended on her neck, and his hand crept up to cup one of her breasts, rolling the nipple between his fingers.  His other hand slid down between her stomach and the wall and slipped between her legs.  He found her hot and wet for him, and she moaned softly as he started stroking her.

            She moved her hands down and back, over his hips, squeezing his rock-hard buttocks, pulling him against her.  She felt his erection pulse against her backside, hard against her softness, and when it slipped between her buttocks she thought he was going to enter her that way, and she braced herself.

            But he slid in where he should, and Buffy let out the breath she'd been holding.  They'd tried anal sex once or twice and she hadn't disliked it, but it hadn't got her as worked up as proper, regular sex did.

            Not that there was anything regular about sex with Spike.

            He thrust into her, filling her completely, hitting angles he couldn't reach in other positions.  With one hand still firmly fondling her clitoris, he pounded her into the wall so hard her hipbones jarred, but Buffy didn't mind.  In fact, she was rapidly becoming mindless.  He felt so good slamming into her: it was as if this was the first time in weeks, not in hours.  And they had the whole night together.  She was determined to get as much sex as she could.  A minute spent without him inside her in some way, was a minute wasted.

            She felt the tension building, and came a few seconds before he did, flooding hot semen into her.  They'd long since given up on condoms: sex with Spike was so unpredictable that a condom was largely useless.  Buffy was on the pill, and had been for years.

            Not that it had stopped her getting pregnant.  Twice.

            She figured that Spike's sperm was like the rest of him: tremendously strong and not likely to take 'no' for an answer.

            She slumped against the wall, his arm around her, holding her upright.  The water had turned cold at some point but neither of them had noticed.  Spike reached out and turned it off, and in the sudden silence, Buffy became aware that she was panting.

            "So," she said, "what's next?"

            He laughed at that, and slipped out of her, stepping out of the bath and reaching out a hand to steady her when she followed him.

            "Next," he said, and cocked his head, listening.  The phone was ringing out.  "We listen to that message."

            He wandered downstairs naked but Buffy, mindful of the last time she'd appeared in such a state, wrapped her bathrobe around herself before she followed him.  He was in the kitchen, listening to the tail end of a message.  Distracted by his nakedness, Buffy pressed him up against the counter and started kissing his neck.

            "Anything important?"

            He pressed Play again, and Xander's voice filled the room, making her jump.

            "Why is he always-"

            "Shh," Spike said, pushing her away from him.

            "...to come and pick Alice up.  We're at the hospital."  Buffy's eyes flew open wide.  "It's Anya.  Something happened with the baby and... it's not good..."