Disclaimer: Since my name is not Joss Whedon, neither 'Buffy: The Vampire Slayer', 'Angel', or any of the amazing characters associated with either show belong to me. I also don't own the story line - that is taken from gidgetgirl's 'Mr Spike Challenge' (details below). The kids at the day care centre belong to me.

~*The Mr. Spike Challenge*~
Set in Angel season five. When the head of the Wolfram and Hart daycare service for employee children (both human and non-human) dies, Angel decides to kill two birds with one stone by putting Spike in charge of the daycare.

Requirements:
One of the kids must be a slayer. One of the kids must do magic At least two kids must be entirely mortal. One child should remind Spike of someone he saw a hundred years ago.

Author's Note: To Darklight and Star Princess Meesa – close, but no cigar. And Darklight, your idea for a present for Harmony was just so sweet! You're right. It would be a lovely gesture on Morgan's part.

Words in / / = Thoughts

Words in ***  *** = Flashbacks.

Chapter 9.

"You're not supposed to be reading me!" Angel objected, mentally kicking himself for agreeing to sing in front of the empathic demon without having made that point perfectly clear beforehand.

"Not deliberate, cupcake," Lorne's serious tone belied the casual words. "But the images were coming off you in waves. So," He prompted. "Who's Connor?"

"Nobody."

Lorne raised a sceptical eyebrow. "Well, 'nobody' is the reason you can't be near any of the little munchkins without getting angry. So? What's the dealio?"

"I don't want to talk about it!"

"Shouldn't keep things bottled up, strudel." Lorne said kindly. "Whoever this Connor was, he was pretty important to you. I can feel the grief and anger coming off you in waves. Maybe it would help if you were to talk about it."

"It wouldn't." Angel's voice was pained. "I don't want to be having this conversation now or ever. We have more important things to deal with. Remember, massacre?"

Lorne, knowing that his friend was not going to consent to talk about the mysterious Connor at any stage in the near future, sighed in resignation before turning his attention back to the far less pleasant topic of little Delia's vision.

He shuddered. "I'm going to need a mental shower to wash that image out of my head! It's big, Angel." His voice was sober. "And it'll be here soon. We're going to need help. We won't be able to take care of this one by ourselves." Angel nodded comprehension. Lorne smiled slightly. "I'm going to talk to some contacts, see if I can find anything out."

"Thanks."

"And about Connor," Angel shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "If you need to talk, I'll be here."

"I appreciate that." Angel's gratitude was sincere.

"I'd better see what I can find out." Lorne gave a theatrical sigh. "No rest for the well-dressed."

"Lorne?" The green demon stopped on his way out of the office. "About the little girl, about Delia, is she . . . I mean did I . . .?"

Lorne smiled. "Yes, you knew her. In a way, you're responsible for her being here." He left, leaving a thoroughly puzzled vampire behind him.

* * *

The daycare centre, later that night.

"Mr Spike?" Delia had been uncharacteristically quiet since her vision.

"Yes, luv?"

"You're not going to let the bad things come here, are you?"

He gave her a reassuring smile, tucking her into her bed. "Don't you worry about a thing, pet. Those monsters and boogie men will have to get past me if they want to get in here and I won't let that happen. Anyway," he grinned at her. "If anything does come in here, we'll just get Captain Forehead to sing – his voice could scare anyone away!"

Delia giggled. "When the others come, they'll stop it. The stars told me so." She told him, with the unwavering confidence only the very young possess. "And you'll be a champion." She sat up, putting her arms around his neck and hugging him tightly. "Goodnight, Mr Spike." She kissed his cheek before lying back down.

"You too, luv." Spike remembered to plug in the nightlight before switching off the main light.  "Sweet dreams."

"Night night." Delia was already starting to drowse off.

Spike stood up and slipped out of the room, meeting Harmony in the doorway.

"Not good with kids, huh?" Harmony shook her head disbelievingly. "You are such a softy!"

Spike couldn't come up with any argument in his own defence.

"You can head home now if you like, Harm." He offered. "I'll stay here with the rugrat."

Harmony needed no second prompting. Bidding Spike a hurried goodbye she tore out of the room, unhappily conscious of the fact that she would have to be back again within twelve hours.

/Oh well, / She thought philosophically. /It could be worse. At least I don't have to cater to Mr 'Where's My Blood' anymore. /

* * *

Three hours later.

Spike had just dozed off when he was awoken by a piercing shriek of pure terror.

Delia, her face as white as a sheet and her silver eyes impossibly wide, raced into the room, making a beeline for Spike.

"What's the matter, pet?" The little girl clung to his leg.

"Monster!" Delia's voice quavered. "Under my bed. The kitty can't make him go away!"

"Monster, eh?" Spike was careful not to laugh. He didn't want to hurt her feelings. "I'll show him." He rummaged in the supply closet for a few moments before lighting on the item of his choice. He hefted the baseball bat over his shoulder. "Stay here, luv, I'm going in!"

He charged into the room, allowing his vampiric face to overtake his features. He paused to peek under Delia's bed, just to be sure (you never knew in this place) that the monster really was just a figment of her imagination.

"Alright, monster!" He bellowed to the empty room. "You're not welcome here! Sodd off!"

Determined to put on a good show, he battered the nearest mattress mercilessly, making appropriate sound effects for a pained monster.

Outside in the playroom, Delia listened happily as Spike fought against her imagined aggressor. She rewarded him with a hug when he came out, untidy after his exertions and looking as though he really had fought the battle of his life.

"He's gone now, luv." Spike crouched down in front of the little girl. "I don't think he'll dare show his face here again. You can go to sleep now."

Delia's face was solemn as she place her small hand on Spike's chest, over his unbeating heart.

"Champion's heart." Her voice was soft, unnervingly adult. "Your power is here."

*** "Your wealth lies in here."

His sire's hand, over his heart, more than a hundred years ago.

The same expression in her eyes.

Seeing something other than the weak man before her. ***

"I'm not your champion." Spike's voice was hoarse.

Delia smiled tranquilly. "You will be." She yawned and the adult aura faded away as if it had never been. "I'm sleepy, Mr Spike."

Spike scooped her up in his arms, carrying her back into the dormitory and tucking her into her bed. "Sleep then." His voice was gentle, almost paternal. "I'll be right here."

* * *

Eleven o'clock, the next morning. Daycare centre.

"Again! Again!" Livia clapped happily.

Spike shook his head in resignation. The two year old Slayer had become addicted to the game.

Harmony was playing a game of catch with the other children, who were happily pelting each other with beanbags, on the other side of the room. He grinned to himself. Despite her protests to the contrary, his ex was actually enjoying herself.

"Again!" Livia demanded, pouting a little. "Please, Mr Spike?"

He sighed, balancing the toddler on his lap and bouncing her up and down as he chanted and she squealed in delight.

"Horsey, horsey, don't you stop/ Just let your feet go clippity clop/ Your tail go wagging up and down/ Giddy-up we're homeward bound!"

As always, he finished the rhyme by tossing the little girl in the air and catching her neatly.

"Wow!"

Spike looked up at the sound of the new voice and wished that he could hide.

Xander, who had spoken, looked at Willow, Buffy and Dawn, who were standing next to him. "I guess the world really is coming to an end!"

TBC.

Author's Note: Originally, I was only going to have Buffy visit – admit it, you all thought that I had forgotten – but I found the suggestion of little-lost-one too appealing to resist.