Disclaimer: I will not claim to own anything of this story. Joss Whedon created the characters, Billie Letts wrote "Where the Heart Is", which this is based on.

Rating: This will be rated R! Sorry kiddies, but I like using inappropriate language.

Author's Notes: Promised I would post for Christmas, didn't I? Well, because the last chapter was so short, this one is uber-long. Hope you all enjoy, and have a happy holidays. If you don't celebrate Christmas, I hope you have a good time not finding anything Christmas-related on TV. I would like to spend the day watching my favorite Christmas move, "Die Hard", but I have to do the family thing. Everyone be safe, and make sure you don't eat any beef with the Mad Cow thing. That would suck. Also, I have to leave right after I post this chapter, so I will thank all of you kind people who responded to the last chapter next post. You guys are all awesome, and I'll catch you soon!

PS: The book, "Twenty-One Balloons" is so fucking awesome. Even if you are old and only like to read things pornographic in nature, this is a great children's book. Yah! ____________________________________________________________________________

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Chapter Thirteen- A Good Man

"Did you organize the filings?"

"Yeah, Rupes, everything is organized, and it still is, each time you ask me," sighed Spike, switching the phone receiver to his other ear, rolling his eyes while his uncle huffed and puffed on the other end.

"Are the floors vacuumed?"

"What do you think?" He leaned forward onto the front counter, cradling the receiver with his shoulder, while his other hand began to trace patterns in the dust that had settled on the counter.

He could almost hear Giles remove his glasses and begin polish them with the hem of his jacket.

"I really wish you wouldn't take that tone with me, William. I've done nothing to make you angry."

"And yet," sighed the younger man, "You kinda forget that I've been doing the Sunday chores for fifteen years, so I probably have a good idea of what I need to do."

"So sorry." Giles' voice took on a harsher tone. "I've forgotten how responsible you are, and that I should treat you like an adult, even when you act like a toddler-"

His rant stopped suddenly, and over the phone, Spike could hear Giles muttering something while Anya tried to calm him down.

"William." It was Anya. "I'm just going to end that conversation before you two decide not to speak to each other, meaning I will have to play mediator."

"Sorry, Awn." And he was.

"Cool." Again, there was a pause. "Well, I just pulled onto the Convention Center exit. Do you want to yell at Rupert once more before I hang up?"

Spike was glad the two couldn't see his grin. "Nope. Tell the old man I hope he learns a lot about small business success."

"Believe me, he will. Love you, Spikey."

"Love you too, Awn."

Hanging up the phone, Spike took a few cleansing breaths.

It was almost eleven, meaning Spike had the entire Sunday afternoon to himself. Because the library was always closed on Sunday, and because this particular day Anya decided to drag Giles to a "Shaping the Future: Managing a Successful Small Business" convention, he was free to do what he pleased.

Casually stuffing his hands in his pockets, he slowly went to the reading room. While he had been cleaning earlier that day, he had found a copy of one of his favorite childhood books, "Twenty-One Balloons". He found himself trying to remember how long it was since he read through it, and finally decided it was long enough. The copy sat on the ottoman for the chair nearest the window, and he planned to spend all day in that chair, reading it.

Soon, he found himself at his favorite part, the history of the Krakatoa islanders, and was about to turn the page, when a knock at the front door interrupted him.

"We're closed today! Come back tomorrow!" He called out, turning his attention back to the pages.

There was another knock, this one stronger.

"I said we're closed! Go away!"

When the person knocked again, Spike slammed the book shut, and stomped angrily to the front door.

"Can't you hear, mate-" he began as he unlocked the set of doors, but shutting up when he saw Buffy standing in front of the doors, cradling her daughter in her arms.

"Sorry," she apologized as she brushed passed him quickly, trying to juggle holding Aurora and her car seat, and carrying a baby bag.

Following her, Spike was mentally kicking himself as he watched her unload at the closest table in the main library.

"Whew!" She sighed, flopping down in a chair when Aurora was securely snuggled into her car seat. "I thought I'd be happy to get rid of the baby weight. Turns out, once you actually have a child, you only end up adding fifty pounds of shit you drag along with her."

She once again then sighed, and turned to stare at Spike, who was awkwardly standing in the main hallway, watching her. There was complete silence as the two looked at each other, trying to find something to say.

"How are you doing?" he finally managed to ask, coming into the room and sitting next to her.

Shrugging, she began to play with the strap of Aurora's baby bag.

"Better. Could be doing a lot worse, if it wasn't for . . ."

Their eyes connected when she trailed off.

Buffy struggled to find the words. "I kinda came here to say thanks."

"Don't need to," he insisted.

"No." She grabbed his right hand, cupping it in her two. "She and I could have died if you hadn't come."

He shrugged and pulled his hand away, as if to dismiss it, but Buffy could see the blush tinting his cheeks.

"So you knew, about me . . ." Buffy trailed off.

"Yeah." He began to study the wood grain of the table.

"How long?"

Sighing, he stared up at the ceiling. "Since the day we had lunch at the Magic Box. Followed you home that night to make sure you got in alright."

"You didn't let me know you knew."

"You never mentioned it, so I knew that it had to be a secret. You talked about that Angel-prick once, but you didn't give any sign of where you thought he was. Put two and two together."

Buffy slumped down into the chair. "So, I was always worried about being found out, but you already knew? And, you were playing the part of my friendly stalker?"

"Stalker? Fuck, you just said two minutes ago if it wasn't for me-"

Both shut up at the same time, knowing this wasn't the time to argue.

Suddenly, Buffy sat up, and took Aurora out of her car seat. "Hold her," she demanded.

"What?"

"Hold her!"

He was about to protest again, but Buffy had already put the baby into his arms.

Buffy took a step back, and hid a smile as she watched his expression change from shock to acceptance to contentment. He removed a hand from underneath the child, and began to stroke the soft hair on top of her head, and the baby fuzz on her cheek. This was the second time the young woman had seen him so open and tender, and it was just as amazing. It almost took her breath away.

"How'd you know what to do?" she asked when she had found her voice again.

"Was in a life survival book I read a few years ago."

Buffy tried to suppress a laugh, but it broke loose, and soon Spike joined her with his own amused chuckle while studying Aurora's tiny hand.

"Heard you and the little bit are living with Joyce," he commented after she had stopped laughing.

"Just for a while, until I can work things out," she admitted.

"She doesn't mind you two living with her. Actually, she's probably going to force you to stay." Sighing, he leaned back, holding the child closer to his chest. "Sorry I didn't come visit you in the hospital. I had to go to Los Angeles for a few days."

"Giles told me. Everything ok?" she asked.

"Yeah, just family business. I . . ."

Spike noticed that Buffy had taken her attention from him to over his shoulder, where she was watching something move down the grand staircase. He turned to see what she was looking at.

Buffy's eyes widened as she watched a young woman slowly step down the stairs. She had seen her the first day she came to the library, only her back had been to her.

The woman wore a long, Victorian-styled nightgown of pure white, the short sleeves puffed slightly. In contrast to her gown was her silky raven hair, flowing down past her shoulders. Her skin was pale, almost translucent, and it made her blue eyes even more intense.

Slowly, she gazed across the room, her eyes coming to rest on Buffy and Aurora.

"Spike," she asked weakly, as if forming the words zapped all of her energy, "Who are these people?"

Buffy heard a low sigh come from the blond as he handed Aurora back to her mother, stood up and moved to the stairs, holding out his hand to help the woman down the rest of the way.

"No worry ducks, they're good people," he whispered into her ear. A small smile peaked from her lips as she let her eyes shut, and nuzzled her head in Spike's shoulder.

"Dru," he said to the woman, "This is my good friend, Buffy Summers, and her daughter Aurora."

Turning back to Buffy, his attitude became instantly formal.

"Buffy, this is Drusilla Giles, my little sister."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Kitchens were not something Buffy was comfortable around.

For most of her childhood, she had been cared for by people who never had a second to teach her cooking skills, secret recipes, or even how to turn on the oven.

The Giles' kitchen made her that uneasy, even if she thought it was cutely remodeled by Anya in her mock retro way, with a check-tiled floor, stainless steel appliances, and the matching metal table and chair set cushioned in red leather.

Maybe it wasn't the kitchen that put her on edge. It quite probably could have been the situation.

Spike was at the stove; his back turned to her, heating up the bright red teakettle. He hadn't said much since he suggested that they move into the kitchen, and had gone about, very Giles-esque, preparing tea.

Drusilla's uneasiness matched her own. The two young women would occasionally lock eyes, until one would turn away to study something less interesting. She was also spending a good amount of time staring at Aurora, who was contently snuggled into her car seat next to her mother's feet.

Noticing this, Buffy decided to break the ice.

"Do you," she began, pausing when Drusilla's eyes met hers, "I mean, would you like to hold her?"

Hesitantly, Drusilla shook her head, matching her brother's earlier hesitation at the question. "I'm afraid I'll smash her into little pieces."

Lightly chuckling, Buffy bent down to unbuckle the infant.

"She's a sturdy little thing. I'm more afraid of her barfing on her dress."

It was Drusilla's turn to chuckle, but it was more to relieve the nerves as she awkwardly held out her arms. She gingerly held the weight of the girl when Buffy gave Aurora to her.

But Buffy saw an immediate change come over her as she gradually became more comfortable, pulling the baby closer to her.

"How could anything be so tiny and beautiful?" asked Drusilla, her voice light and airy as she cradled Aurora. She looked back up at Buffy, who could see the stars dancing in her eyes.

"I guess we have a lot to talk about," Buffy mused, giving her patented half-smile.

Nodding, Drusilla tapped Aurora lightly on her button nose. "That we do."

"Hey," interrupted Spike as he approached the table, balancing a fancy tea tray loaded with munchie things and all the accessories needed for a good tea in one hand, the tea kettle clutched in the other. "I'm the one who has to do the explaining." He sat down, plopping the kettle onto a conveniently placed potholder, and his own personal mug filled with coffee. "Alright, Princess?" he asked Drusilla.

"It is perfectly fine," Drusilla answered.

Sighing, he began to serve the tea.

"I was about 11, and Dru 6, when our parents were killed in a car accident," he began.

"I'm so sorry," Buffy whispered, watching Aurora cuddle with Drusilla, trying to contemplate such a thing happening to a child.

"Not your fault, luv," the brunette insisted. "I barely even remember them."

"So," Spike continued, "We came to live with Uncle Rupes by way of our parent's will. Caused a big uproar on our mother's side of the family."

"Why?"

He shrugged. "Rupes is Father's only sibling, and he was a bachelor living across the ocean. Mum's family wanted us to stay with them, and there was this huge argument . . ." He paused. "But, 'M getting ahead of myself.

"The first year was awful. I was the worst fucking child in the world, probably made Rupert consider homicide a hundred times. But, he was so focused on keeping me in line, that he didn't see the trouble going on with Dru."

"What was happening?" Buffy asked.

"I only remember bits and pieces of it," Drusilla answered. "There were people, little people only I could see. I called them my pixies, and I would talk to them, and play games and have tea parties with them."

"Sounds like normal kid stuff," Buffy observed.

Drusilla shook her head. "It's not normal when imaginary people tell you to do bad things."

"We all thought everything was fine and dandy with her, until she set fire to the girl's bathroom at the grade school," Spike sighed.

"They took me to go see doctors, lots of hands and needles to fish inside my mind and find the pixies," Drusilla explained. "Two years later, they said I was cured."

"Doctors called it post-traumatic shock, caused by Father and Mum's death, and us having to move so quickly. She went back to school, and we eventually forgot about it."

Casting her eyes down to stare blankly at the floor, tears began to well in Drusilla's eyes. "I didn't tell anyone that they came back. No one knew until . . ."

"Ducks," Spike interrupted, "How about I finish, and you go back upstairs to take a nap."

Nodding, Dru handed Aurora back to her mother, thanked Buffy, and walked quickly out of the kitchen.

Spike sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Sorry about that," he apologized, "But she doesn't like to talk about that day."

"You don't have to tell me," Buffy responded, but he shook his head.

"Nope, I've already started, so I havta finish."

After taking a long sip of coffee, Spike cleared his throat. "She had an accident the summer I graduated from high school. I was supposed to go back home for school, a big deal for the family. One afternoon, I went to the beach with my friends, and Rupes went to help Anya at the store, so Dru was going to spend the day alone. I come home, make dinner, call her down to eat, and she doesn't answer, so I go upstairs to find her."

The same tears that had taken root in Drusilla's eyes were beginning to sprout in her brother's.

"She had cut her wrists open, and was half-dead on the floor when I found her."

Buffy stared at him in shock.

"For the past seven years, we've all been trying to figure out what she has. Some doctors call it schizophrenia; others say its dementia. They'd pump her full of the drug of the month, and most of them put her in a sort of vegetative state. The variety she's taking now make her tired, but she's fine in all other aspects. I've been traveling up and down this stupid state, trying to find a doc who can make her feel better."

"So, is that why you couldn't come visit me in the hospital?" asked the blonde.

"Yeah," he admitted, "That's also why I snapped at you the first day. The one we had visited told me that Dru should be put in an institution."

"And you said no, didn't you."

"I won't let anyone else hurt her."

There was silence for a moment.

"Is that why you didn't go to college?"

Breaking the somber mood, Spike laughed. "You got me all pegged out, pet. I can't trust old Rupert to take care of her. He's too busy shagging Anya 'round the clock. Also . . ." he stopped laughing, and began to absently fiddle with his coffee mug. "I don't know. I guess that I'm all she has. Sure, we have other family and friends to help out, but I'm her brother. It's in my job description to protect her. And if that means waiting a long time to finish school, then I can wait."

There was a hitch to his voice as he stopped, and in one quick move he drained the contents of his coffee mug.

"Spike?" Buffy inquired when he set his mug down, gripping the curved handle.

"Yeah, luv?"

She reached her arm out, and placed her hand on top of his. There wasn't any sarcasm in her tone when she spoke again, because she meant what she said.

"You're a good man."