A/N: Chapter 11 is here! I really should have uploaded this days ago, since I finished writing it last week, but I've been really busy lately. Sorry if you had to wait. You should'nt have to wait too long for chapter 12 though. 3-5 days at the most. Hope I still have any readers left.

And of course... Rewievs are always nice. Please?

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He collapsed against the wall. His head felt numb, and afterwards he wouldn't be able to remember what, if anything was going on in his mind at that time. With an incredible amount of effort, he managed to choke out one word;

"How?"

And Buffy smiled.

***

Tom Barnaby and Ben Jones couldn't do much other than stare at the scene unfolding in front of them. It was like being caught up in a bad soap-opera, but with better acting. It had all the ingredients of a day-time TV drama; the man who'd disappeared comes back from the dead, to discover that during his absence the woman he'd left behind had given birth to a child. On top of that, she was trying to tell him that he was the father, something he clearly had a hard time believing. But the question 'how' still sounded incredibly stupid in the policemen's ears. Perhaps the guy needed a talk about the birds and the bees?

Currently, the man, William, was leaning heavily against the wall by the door, his questioning and a bit unfocused eyes never wavering from Anne's face. And she just smiled at him. A sad little smile that was barely noticeable if you didn't know where to look for it, but a smile none the less.

When no one had said anything for about half a minute, Barnaby decided enough was enough. He took Jones gently by the arm, and helped him stand up from where he'd been perched at the end of the bed. "I think the two of you need to talk," he said. When he didn't immediately get the pairs attention, he cleared his throat, and when their eyes turned from each other towards him, he repeated himself.

"I think the two of you need to talk. Jones and I will be downstairs, but if one or both of you aren't down there within the next forty minutes, I'm coming up again. I will get an explanation for all this, is that clear? Starting with why my sergeant was laying barely concious at the floor when I got here."

He got two mute nods as an answer, and decided he had to be satisfied with that. He led Jones out the door and down the stairs, arriving in the dining room just as the owner of the B'n B had finished putting together the breakfast buffet. Manoeuvring Jones to a chair, ha got them a coffee mug each, and settled down to wait. Neither of them could remember a time they'd needed a cup of coffee so desperately before in their life.

***

After they'd been left alone, neither Buffy, nor Spike said anything for a few minutes. What was there so say? 'So, you've been dead, huh? How did that work out for you', or, 'so you've got a kid, eh? And you say it's mine? Splendid!' didn't quite seem to cut it. In the end, Buffy sat down on the bed, and motioned for him to sit beside her. Slowly, he managed to move the few feet between the wall and the bed, and sat down heavily. Then he put his face in his hands, and rubbed his eyes tiredly.

It had been couple of rough day's, to say the least.

He lifted his head from his hands, and looked towards the two girls sitting beside him.

His girls.

Could it really be?

He sighed. A couple of lifetimes on this earth had taught him not to take anything of this magnitude for granted. Anything this huge, anything that could grant him happiness in the future was bound to have a bloody big clause somewhere. A great big 'but' that would ensure that whenever something was going his way for a change, he would drive onto a great big bump in the road, and more often then not get thrown of the proverbial carriage and get trampled by the horses.

He was getting pessimistic in his old age. Quite rightly so.

He sighed again, and decided it was time to say something. The silence was beginning to drive him insane.

"Do you want to start, or..." He said, breaking eye contact. "I have a lot to... Christ Buffy, have you any idea what you just did? You've thrown me for a bloody loop here. I'm not sure what to believe."

"And you think it's any easier for me?". He noticed a trace of her earlier anger in her voice, but now it was laced with sadness. Maybe a bit of bitterness too. "Before I say anything, I want to hear the entire story. Starting from when I..." Her voice softened, and she looked down at the floor. Heather tugged at a few locks of her hair, and got her to look up again. She continued; "Starting from where I left you in the hellmouth".

He could hear her fighting the tears at the edge of her voice. It made him deflate somewhat, and instead of starting an argument he knew from experience he was going to loose anyway, he told her the entire story without leaving anything out.

He told her about burning in the hellmouth, and watched as her lips trembled and a single tear ran down her cheek. He told her about appearing out of the wretched amulet in Angels office nineteen days later, and about the time he spent as nothing more than a ghost. He told her about when he finally regained his corporeal body (but left out the bit about Harmony; he was still trying his best to forget about that), and he told her that he'd had the boat ticket in his hand, intent on going to find her, but... that he'd changed his mind. He admitted to being a coward. He said that he couldn't have handled her rejection. Sure, he knew she'd be glad to see him, even welcome him, but... he didn't think she could give him what he really craved, and at the time, he didn't think he'd be able to settle for less.

When he came to the fight between him and Dana, the insane slayer, and told her about loosing his hands, he had to pause. Not because he had a problem with continuing, but because by that time Buffy was shaking and sobbing so hard that she could barely breathe, and he gathered her in his arms and let her cry against him for a couple of minutes, ever mindful of the baby that sat quietly perched on her mothers lap. When she had collected herself, he continued his story, but when he mentioned Andrew...

"That little weasel!! You mean he knew all that time you were back, and he didn't tell me? He didn't tell anyone??!" She cried out indignantly, loud enough to upset her daughter, who screwed up her face in a grimace and let out a scared whimper. Buffy quieted instantly, and gave the scared little girl a comforting hug while whispering soothing words against her soft curls. She motioned for Spike to continue.

Despite his fascination with the little girl, he managed to start talking again. He even managed to tell her about the journey he'd taken to Rome, now that he knew that she hadn't really been there at the time. It didn't hurt as much anymore. And then he finished the story, telling her about the battle in LA in a detached voice, as if he hadn't really been there. In some ways it felt like he hadn't. It was like a lifetime ago.

When he didn't have anything to say any more, he waited for her to speak. He didn't have to wait very long, but what he heard wasn't quite what he had expected she'd say.

"I'm... I'm sorry about Fred." She couldn't quite muster the strength she needed to look him in the eyes, so she watched the floor intently instead. "I didn't hear about it until after, and by then it was too late. I promise you, I would have helped her if I could, but... Giles was in charge at the time. I was sick." She really looked devastated and genuinely sad when she said that, and he couldn't help but believe her. But he had to ask, anyway;

"Sick? What happened? Did a nasty get to you?" Despite the fact that she clearly was all right now, sitting there in front of him, he felt a tremor of fear going through him. Had he almost lost her? Would he have been able to help her? Was it his fault that she'd got hurt?

"Spike..." he could hear the hesitation in her voice, as if she wasn't entirely sure she should tell him. Evidently, she reached a decision fairly quickly, because he could see her jaw setting and that familiar, stubborn look was back in her eyes.

She wasn't really sure she should tell him. He was bound to take it the wrong way. Somehow, he was sure to blame himself, even if he didn't have anything to do with it, a part from the obvious.

But she was done lying to him, she had already promised herself that. She owed him complete honesty, and if she didn't tell him now, and he found out from someone else later, it was bound to get worse. She'd tell him. Everything.

"Spike...", she continued, now with the strength in her voice he knew so well and had missed so much. "When Heather was born... Spike, I nearly died."

Ah. So it was his fault she'd gotten hurt after all.

***

Giles was just about ready to slam his fist through a wall. The frustration was almost tearing him in half! Spike had disappeared to the Powers knew where, although he had a pretty good guess as to were he would turn up eventually. Dawn had locked herself in her room, and was currently refusing to talk to him, and he didn't know why. He hadn't seen her since she came with Andrew from the airport. He had no idea what he could have done to send her into such a snit.

Oh yes. And then there was Andrew.

Andrew, who'd known for several months that Spike was back in the land of the living dead, and hadn't breathed a word about it. A serious case of hero worship and in Giles' mind totally misplaced loyalty had kept his mouth shut. He would get what was coming to him, eventually, but not right now. For the moment, he would be placed under house arrest in the council building in London, at least until this police business with Buffy had been taken care of. One problem at the time.

He had spoken to a young police woman on the phone, and after she had assured him that Buffy and Heather was all right, she had informed him that a dead body had been found in the garden of the cottage his 'niece', Anne Sinclair, currently occupied. He had not gotten any details beyond that, only that Buffy (or Anne) was not suspected of doing anything wrong at this moment in time, and that it was important that she stayed in the area as she was an important witness. If he wanted to see her, he would have to go down to Midsomer Parva.

So he quickly packed the bare necessities that would be needed for such a trip, (which meant one duffel bag of clothes and one huge leather suitcase full of books), got Dawn to pack her bags and arranged for Rona to go with them. Although Dawn was still sulking and barely said half a word to him, she was done packing in five minutes flat, and was in fact waiting in the car for him. No need to argue about her being tardy, at least.

Fifty minutes after he hung up the phone after talking to the police, the three of them were on their way. He hoped one slayer would be enough for the journey. Rona was the best they had, surely she'd be able to handle anything they might encounter? After all, there hadn't been any reports about demon activity in the Midsomer area for years and years. No need to assume there would be any now, right?

Right?

***