A/N: Last time I updated a fic I got one review. This is not the first time this has happened to me, nor will it stop me writing. I write as an outlet for various stresses. However, I am no longer having the same stresses as I used to so I am feeling less inclined to write. Why do I still write? Because of my readers. How do I know people are reading? They review. I will put it in simple language. If I am not shown an interest in a fic, then my updates go from taking days and weeks to taking months and years. This is being written at the end of a long, hectic day and I am not happy. Since I have the e-mails of the people I know are reading, posting on is purely for those of you who read and don't review at all. I doubt I'd notice if you stopped reading since you don't do anything now. Keep this in mind, because it sure as hell isn't easy managing to write a chapter of a quality that I think is worth posting online when I get no feedback or acknowledgement from most of you.

Disclaimer: I have to give a warning here. This chapter contains mentions of character death and some not quite nice things. It's also got some hopefully nice things, too. Oh, and apologies to Casey here, but I'm not going to post the R/NC17 version of this story here - that's going to have to wait until I get a site I can actually update. So sorry to all of you who were hoping to see my version of hardcore sex, 'cos it's not going to be seen on changes

Oz permitted himself a small smile at the dumbfounded expression on Buffy's face. It felt good to see her even if they hadn't been all that close years ago. She looked almost the same as Oz remembered, which made sense considering she'd been dead for six years. In the werewolf's experience dead people either tended to preserve perfectly or rot, and the rotting ones didn't usually get back up and walk around.

"Uncle Poof!" a high voice squealed as a blond blur ran into Angel, tiny little arms wrapping around the big man's neck as he grimaced, probably at the moniker.

"Hey, Rosie," he murmured, hugging her tight.

Oz took the time to look at Spike's kid. She was pretty. Short blonde hair, big blue eyes, cupid's bow mouth, delicate nose. The kid was probably going to end up gorgeous. Oz could see Spike in her, but he could see her mother more. Well, granted Oz had never met her personally and had only seen the pictures Angel drew of her but the vampire was a pretty good artist, and the pictures looked like the little girl so they must be at least somewhat accurate.

"Who are you?" the little imp demanded, hands on hips, glaring right at the werewolf.

"I'm Oz," he said.

The little girl tilted her nose in the air just a fraction. "I'm Caitlin Roselyn Barclay," she said in an imperious tone.

Oz stared. From the amused expressions on the faces behind her, he figured that this was a regular thing. "I'm very pleased to meet you," he said soberly.

Suddenly the child burst into a fit of giggles. "I like you," she said, "You're funny."

"So, Oz," Faith began a shade awkwardly. "Since when did you hook up with Angel?"

"Oh, about a fortnight ago I ran into him in L.A.," he answered, watching distractedly as Angel spoke to the girl. It was almost sad the way he would never have kids of his own.

Oz blinked when a dark figure with a blanket over his head sprinted in the front door, smoke drifting up from the blanket. "Poof," an English accent drawled, "when did you get here?" Spike stood, casually dusting his slightly singed closed until he noticed the werewolf. "Oz?"

"Spike," Oz nodded.

"I thought you weren't going to show up for a few days," the vampire said.

Oz shrugged with one shoulder. "Ran into Angel."

Spike blinked, then turned and hugged his daughter before looking at Angel. "Sorry to hear about the cheerleader, mate," Spike offered.

"Thanks," Angel said heavily. The pair shared a quiet moment.

"How's the Watcher taking it?"

"As well as could be expected. Fred's staying with him to make sure he doesn't do anything stupid."

Spike offered a weak grin. "How are you and Fred doing these days?" he asked, changing the subject as tactfully as possible. "Found a way around that perfect happiness clause yet?"

Angel looked at the floor and studiously headed towards Faith and Katie in the other side of the house. Spike, smelling a weakness, followed gleefully. Oz stood in the near empty hall and looked at Buffy.

"You want a drink?" she asked faintly, gesturing towards the kitchen. Oz seated himself on a stool and looked, puzzled, at Buffy who stood in the middle of the room doing nothing. "Didn't they tell you? I'm a ghost or something."

"Oh." Oz blinked. "That kind of weight loss is a bit extreme."

Buffy gave him a vaguely confused smile as he got himself a glass of water. "So, umm, isAngelgaynow?" she asked hurriedly.

Oz stared at Buffy for a second, deciphering the garbled words. "I don't think so," he said slowly.

"It's just that Spike sort of implied he was going out with a guy called Fred and then he said something about the perfect happiness clause so I was just wondering…"

"Fred is a girl," Oz said, finally understanding the nature of Buffy's worries. "Short for Winifred, I think."

Buffy seemed to exhale. "Oh." A look of comprehension flashed. "Oh."

Oz nodded in commiseration. It was never easy to know the person you loved had moved on. It still hurt a little when he thought about the time he found out about Willow and Tara, and it was even worse when he thought about- well, it was just easier not to think about.

"Do you know who died?" Buffy's question intruded on Oz's musings.

"It was Cordelia. She died about four months ago."

"Oh," Buffy muttered, clearly in shock. "How… how?"

"There was a car accident. A big one. Wesley's still torn up," Oz said quietly.

"Wesley?"

"He and Cordelia were engaged."

Buffy sat down on the stool. Oz stayed with her while she thought. Just in case she needed someone to listen.

XXX

Buffy was freaking out. Everything was completely different now. Maybe she was in some weird, Bizzaro version of the world. Nothing made sense. Cordy engaged to Wesley. Cordy dying. Angel running a huge detective firm in L.A. employing over fifty people and demons. Angel in love with someone not Buffy. Someone named Fred who may or may not be a girl. Oz being back. Angel, Spike and Xander all getting along. Then of course there were all the other things that don't make sense.

Two of them -- because Xander being a dad was so not computing yet -- were currently interviewing Oz. Well, interviewing in the same sense that the Inquisition could be called an interview.

"What are you?" Seth demanded of the quiet man loudly, waving a pointed finger under his nose.

"What do you mean?" Oz asked slowly.

"Everybody is something," Katie explained heavily.

"Spike is a vampire, Angel is a wanker, Faith is a Slayer, my dad is a fixer," Seth rattled off backhandedly. "So what are you?"

"I'm a werewolf," Oz said, possibly amused. It was kinda hard to tell with Oz. His sarcastic face looked exactly the same as his This-Surprise-Party-Is-Lame-I-Know-But-Willow-Thought-It-Would-Be-Fun face. Oz's face pretty much stayed the same.

"What do you do?"

Oz gave this some thought. "I play guitar."

"Where were you on the night of the fifth?" Seth asked dramatically.

"Why did you ask him that?" Katie demanded in a stage whisper.

"It's what you're s'posed to ask them, duh," Seth replied scathingly.

"Why?"

Seth was at a loss. "Because… I said so!"

"That's not an answer," scoffed Katie.

"Is too!"

"Is not!"

"Is too, is too, is too, is too!"

"IS NOT!" Katie bellowed, shoving the boy to the ground.

Seth jumped to his feet and attempted to rip a handful of pale blonde hair from the girl's head before Xander and Spike materialised to spirit away the rowdy children, smiling briefly and apologetically at Oz and Buffy. A roar of laughter accompanied the return of the fathers and children in the living room and Buffy felt her disconnection with the world like a sharp pain. She wasn't part of this world, not really. She was just a ghost, something insubstantial.

"I'm going to go to the bathroom," Oz informed Buffy. "I'll be back in a bit."

Buffy sat in the empty kitchen and sulked. Just because she… made some mistakes before she, well, died, she wasn't part of the group and it hurt. It hurt that she wasn't the most important person in their lives any more. Hell, she probably wasn't even in the top three any more, and she knew it was childish and petty but being a ghost was hard. It was as if she simply didn't matter to anything anymore.

What bothered her most of the time was that she had no impact on the world anymore. At all. She couldn't hit things, she just went through them. She never felt hot, or cold, or warm, or any temperature at all. It was just… not. It was like being completely numb over your whole body, only worse because it didn't go away, it wouldn't go away, it would only get worse as time went on. She could see, and she could hear, but she couldn't smell, or taste or touch. It was like she didn't even exist.

"Buffy?" Spike's voice rumbled into the quiet. The ghostly Slayer gave a little start.

"Spike," she said, when she was sure her voice would be steady. One bonus for being all ghosty is that now he couldn't hear her heart beating. She missed her heart beating.

"You don't have to hide out in the bloody kitchen, you know," he said with a smirk.

Buffy felt indignation rise up. "Oh, I'm sorry. Am I a part of your little group now? Did you get bored talking about everything else and now you think I might be interesting? Does everyone want to hear my side of our sick little encounters now?"

Spike was silent for a long time. Which was of the bad, because about three seconds after she said it, Buffy started to feel really guilty about what she'd said. "I never told them anything, Slayer," Spike said in a sombre tone. "They don't know and they never have to. It's behind us. I don't love you any more, and we both know you never loved me. Just… just leave it."

The vampire turned on his heel and stalked out, leaving Buffy feel even worse. It wasn't fair. She wasn't supposed to feel bad about hurting Spike. That was what he was for, what he was good at.

Buffy slammed him against the wall of the crypt and pressed her mouth to his, seeking, crushing, possessing. Her warm hands trailed all over his hard body, pinching, prodding. Harder and faster. Faster and harder. She just needed to feel.

Oh, she felt all right. She felt the hot, heady pleasure he brought, followed immediately by the sickening waves of revulsion and shame. Spike wasn't human. He didn't even have a soul. He was an empty, evil thing and he was the only thing in the entire world that could make her feel anything that wasn't tired.

Glory remained unbeatable. Dawn still needed to be looked after. Willow and Xander and Giles and rest expected her to fight, keep the Hellmouth closed. Bills needed to be payed. And Buffy didn't care. At all. About any of it. It was all empty and meaningless. The only thing that helped her cope was the cold comfort of an undead thing, and even though the thought made her sick she kept coming back, time and again, night after night.

She gasped into his ear as his cool hand slid under her skirt, reaching and searching and

"Buffy?" Oz asked the room.

The ghostly Slayer's eyes blinked open. That was a vivid daydream. She could almost still feel his cool, strong fingers all over her and for a brief moment she thought she felt warm. It was all gone now, of course, and she felt even worse for wanting to remember those times just so she could feel the ghost of feeling.

Oz must have noticed the expression on her face because after a moment he turned and went to the main room with everyone else. Buffy lowered her head into her hands, knowing she was disgraceful. Still, she needed to feel. Closing her eyes, she remembered.

XXXXX

A/N: Okay. That was shorter than usual. Bear with me, I am going somewhere with this fic. A lot further than I usually plan, by the look of it. Hopefully it will all be explained. I need to address a few minor issues. One, this is not a kidfic. I will try and include them in as many funny situations as possible, of course, but the primary focus of this story is Buffy. Two, Buffy is not Caitlin's mother. A lot of you have intimated that this is what you think and, while it is an intriguing idea, I could not make this the case and still keep my good conscience. I believe that the first clue to the identity of the mother was in this chapter. Don't worry, I'll be telling you all within three chapters anyway, and I hope you will agree with me that it is the best and most unique way of doing what I've done. Finally, on the matter of reviews. I am not as angry now as I was when I wrote my first A/N but I will leave it as the points are still valid. I get very little out of this exchange if none of you REVIEW.

Also note, this chapter was longer before I removed a large portion of the material that could be seen as pornographic. Sorry people, but the rating is being dropped down a notch. Feel free to suggest a site where I could post it's entirety.