Author's Notes:

I know I'm inviting strong reactions by taking the story in this direction. I just want to say, you're getting the story in bits and pieces, flashing back and forth through time. Whatever you think you know, it might be wrong...

Or it may be poor writing on my part. That's also a possibility.

If you're reading this without having read the previous story, one other important thing I didn't mention - Buffy ended up with enhanced Slayer powers. When she refers to her super-Slayer package, that's what she's talking about.

"Buffy…"

"Yeah?" she answered without looking at him.

Spike took the book out of her hands and squatted in front of her. Forced her to see him. "I love you. You know this." Huffing, she reached for her book, and he whipped it across the room in frustration. "Things aren't right, though! With us. And it's gone on for too sodding long."

Looking away, she said, "I know I've been all moody-Buffy, but come on, Spike. I think I've had good reason."

He moved so he was in her line of sight again. "Listen to me carefully, luv. You have had good reason. But we're dying here. As in you and me. Us. Dying. I'll never stop loving you, but for fuck's sakes it's been years now and I want my bloody wife back."

Her face began to contort in anger and he held his hand out to her. "You wanna just take the ring from me and beat me now, get it over with?"

Buffy recoiled. "Oh, God, Spike, no! How could you say that to me?"

He shrugged. "Because that's the exact look you gave me last time we were here." He was willing to provoke her anger, even to a beating if that's what it took. Anything to get her to confront their issues.

She clenched her fists in an obvious attempt to keep them under control, twin spots of color burning high on her cheeks. Spike didn't move away, didn't back down.

"Why do you always want to make me do the talky?"

"You used to talk to me, years ago. Tell me I was your strength. All you do now is push me away. You keep pushing, I just might believe you one of these days."

She only stared at him. Stared and stared, and he had no idea what she was thinking. How had it come to this? All the bleeding things they'd been through, and this was what was going to drive them apart. The fight went out of him and he stood, turning his face so she couldn't see his tears as he headed to the door.

"It's my fault," Buffy blurted out. Spike stopped in his tracks. His wife admitting culpability was rare enough, but what she said next shocked him even more. "That the babies keep dying. It's because I'm a Slayer."

He spun around, reaching for her hand. "Not so. Some of the others have popped out a sprog or two in the last few years."

Smiling bitterly, she said, "Yeah, but they don't have my super-Slayer package, along with my super-Slayer immune system. You know how I never get sick? Well, turns out pregnancy's a bit like an infection. My body rejects the babies. That's why things went okay with Willow. So… if you want kids, you'll be better off with somebody else anyhow."

"Christ, Buffy. I don't know if I've ever told you this, pet, but you're dumb as rocks. Think you've taken one too many blows to the head."

Her mouth worked in outrage, and then she said with icy calm, "This is not me being a martyr here. That last time, Andrew took blood almost every day, did all kinds of tests. He confirmed what I thought. I knew the pregnancy wasn't going to viable, but I still hoped… Didn't matter, though. I can't bear your children. It's me, I kill them. You're better off… elsewhere."

Spike's lips thinned in exasperation. "No, Buffy, you're daft if you think having my own kids matters that much to me. Matters more than you. Yeah, I wouldn't mind a couple of ankle-biters with my dashing good looks, but after nigh on a century and a half, it's a dream that doesn't need to be fulfilled, not if it loses me the one thing I need most. And what I need most is you, luv, in case you're too bloody dumb to figure it out."

She didn't have an answer to that, and he pulled her stiff form into his arms, holding her until she relaxed a fraction. "I get that this is destroying you. But let me be destroyed with you. And let me heal with you. And then let's figure out how we're going handle our future together."

A sob escaped her. "All I seem to do is cry these days," she said as yet another shirt fell victim to her tears. He didn't care though, would use up his whole bleeding wardrobe if only she moved past the tears and onto more. Buffy eventually took a deep breath and he held his, waiting to see if he would get his wish.

"Well of course you're going to be the mature one," she snuffled into his chest. "You're the one who's on the downward slide to two hundred. Give me a couple more centuries and I'll stun you with my wisdom and insight."

He closed his eyes in relief and smiled into her hair.

They lay on their bellies, the hot sun shining down on their bare backs, the sound of the surf lulling them into a trance-like state.

"Spike?" she said drowsily. "I think I might be ready."

"For what, luv?"

"To settle down a bit. Nothing, you know, suburban-y and soccer mom-ish. But maybe have a real home, start that business we've been talking about. Knock the hero gig from full-time down to nightly patrols and the occasional apocalypse."

His simple, "Yeah?" didn't give anything away, so she rolled to look at him. "When you're ready, of course. But – and I never thought I'd say this – I think I'm tired of seeing the world. And hey, Hawai'i here," she gestured vaguely around them. "We finally made it. Best to quit on a high note."

His brilliant smile told her all she needed to know. Tugging him until his body covered hers, pressing her down into the hot sand, she said, "You're still such a mystery to me sometimes."

"How's that?" With the sun behind him, Spike's rumpled hair shone like a halo, leaving his face in shadow, though his eyes sparkled brighter than the clear blue sky overhead.

Buffy smiled up at him. "William the Bloody wants to get domestic. It's kinda disturbing."

"Pffft," he scoffed. "Any bloke in his right mind would give up the high life if you were the prize."

"Sap," she said, nibbling on his ear until he hardened against her thigh, then shoving him off and pelting towards the ocean. "Can't catch me!" she squealed, shivering in delight when she heard his answering growl right behind her.

"Today's the day," Buffy announced, plunking down beside him on the couch.

He cocked an eyebrow. "For?"

"That talk about our future and how kids play into it. The one I've been avoiding."

He flicked the telly off, listening attentively.

Buffy took a deep breath. "Before we get into the rest of it… I want to have a memorial service. For our children."

Spike's initial reaction was surprise. To him, they'd been mere ideas of children, and it was the idea to mourn, not the child. But as he considered her request, he realized it made sense. Even with his enhanced senses, he hadn't been anywhere near as connected to their lost children as his wife had been. They'd been a part of her, living beings that had affected her - body, heart and soul.

So yeah, maybe a memorial service was a good idea. Would help her to move on. "Just you'n me, luv, or…?

"Just us. And maybe Mom."

"Of course, sweetheart. You tell me what you need and we'll do it."

Buffy nodded. "Thank you." She fiddled with a loose button on her shirt before continuing. "Okay, on a scale of 'I'd rather be forced to listen to N'Sync for the rest of my life' to 'only my wife hand-feeding me blooming onions while we shag 24/7 to the Ramones could possibly make me happier', where do you fit having kids?"

"I'd say right around whatever makes my wife happiest."

She rolled her eyes, though she smiled as she did so. "Good answer. But the wrong one. I'm asking, for you, is having children important? Do you even want to?"

Spike took some time to consider his answer. "I've always imagined you being a mother someday. Know you want that. And seeing you happy would make me happy. For me… my fondest wish, before I was turned, was to have a passel of children. 'Course, in those days fathers weren't much involved, but… yeah, I'd like to. Raise a couple hellions with my beautiful wife. Though if it doesn't happen, I'll still be perfectly happy. S'not even close to a deal breaker."

Shifting around until her back was to his chest and she was cradled between his legs, she said, "I can so totally imagine you as a father. And here's what scares me. I think the vampire will be a better parent than me."

"Nonsense," he protested into her hair, and she grew tense against him. "Let it out," he told her. "We talk. We share. No matter how bad. No more holding back, luv. Remember?"

Buffy's voice was low and raw when she spoke. "I'm a killer, Spike. That's what I'm made for, what this body is made for. What I'm good at. So much so that my body kills any babies I try to make." He held her tighter and waited for her to finish. "I deal in death, not life. Maybe all those miscarriages were a sign that I shouldn't have children."

"And yet you think the real killer will make a good father? Daft woman. It's not a sodding sign. It's just a downside to all those lovely perks you have. A big downside, no doubt, but… have to confess I like the slower aging process you've been graced with." Swallowing, he added, "It's nice to know you'll be around a good, long while."

"Nice to know I won't look like I married a younger man for a good, long while you mean. Someday everybody will think I'm the cradle-robber and not you."

He pinched her side. "No trying to get off-topic. And you? Do you still feel the same way about adopting that you did before?"

"You didn't even ask me if I wanted children at all."

"Fair enough. Do you?"

"Yes."

Spike snorted. "Bloody exercise in pointlessness, that. And knowing our only choice is adoption, are you open to it now?"

"There's surrogacy," Buffy said. "Willow and Tara have offered… More than once, actually."

They were meeting while Buffy was out of town visiting Joyce, trying to sort their way out of the sticky situation they'd found themselves in.

"Spike," Tara said, her long-lost stammer threatening to reappear. "I want to be clear; it's n-not that we don't want you as the f-father. Because out of anybody we know, you're our ideal choice. But… I don't know what this will do to Buffy. I d-don't understand why she's so determined for us to choose you. She's…"

'Lost her marbles' was the unspoken consensus.

With a nod from Willow, Tara continued. "We have an alternate idea… What if we were surrogates for you guys instead?"

Spike cocked his head, considering. It wasn't a thought that had occurred to him. "Have you discussed it with her?"

"No," Willow answered. "She's been so… on edge. She's at a breaking point, and we don't know what to… We were hoping maybe you could bring it up."

"I don't know what to do either," Spike admitted. "This," he motioned to the witches and himself, "seems like a bad idea, no matter how my wife insists. Don't get me wrong, knowing you consider me prime breeding stock gets me ever so puffed up and manly feeling, ladies," he smirked half-heartedly, "but I don't see how it's going to work out for the lot of us."

He scrubbed the face he was sure looked as haggard as he felt. "I'll try to talk Buffy out of offering my stud services up again. And I think it best if you're the ones to share the surrogacy idea with her. Can't guarantee I'll have any better luck… she's not big on conversing right now. Not unless it's what she wants to say."

"I'm so sorry, Spike" Willow said. "When we decided to tell you guys we were planning on using a sperm donor, this isn't what we wanted. Now I wish we'd never even told Buffy what we were thinking about. Maybe then she wouldn't have gotten this idea in her head."

"What else could you have done?" Spike asked. "She had to find out sooner or later. Better from the get-go than waiting 'til you were too swollen to ignore the topic. Don't see what other choice there was. You moving far away and never letting on your family was growing?"

Tara said, "We didn't… we didn't have to have another baby. Or, it didn't have to be a boy."

Spike rolled his eyes. "Yeah, that would've been grand. 'Specially 'bout the time you start resenting us for keeping you from your own life. I realize my wife seems to have gone sack of hammers, and can't say as I blame her, but I know Buffy. She would hate herself even more if she ever found out our troubles had kept you from fulfilling your dreams. She already worries the Niblet isn't having more kids because we can't."

"At the very least, I never should have admitted we'd thought about you when she asked," Willow insisted. "I should have lied and said the idea disgusted me."

Tara frowned. "And then we would have had an angry Buffy demanding to know why Spike wasn't good enough for us. I don't think there was a right way to do this, sweetie. Not without somebody getting hurt."

Standing to leave, Spike exhaled slowly. "Think you're spot on, Glinda. There's no good way out of this. And s'not anybody's fault, just sodding crap circumstances. We'll all have to muddle through as best we can."