Author's Notes:

As always, the comments and reviews really help me to hone the story. One last chapter after this. I was struggling with the final few paragraphs of the story, and I think (hope) they're good now!

"What do you think about surrogacy?" Buffy prodded when he remained lost in thought.

Spike wished he'd been firmer with his wife, wished he'd refused to give in to Buffy's daft idea that he father Willow's child, but she'd been so fragile. He'd finally consented, hoping it would ease her pain somehow. Stupidest bloody idea he'd ever had, and that was saying something.

No wonder Buffy had stopped telling him he was her strength and instead pushed him away. He'd used to take pride in knowing her better than he knew himself, in giving her what she needed before she even knew she needed it, but it no longer was true.

He'd failed her.

Maybe it was because he was still too much a demon to understand what she'd been going through, or maybe it was just because he was a man. Either way, her grief had been a road he hadn't known how to follow her down, and he'd almost lost her because of his inadequacy.

Nothing he could do about it now, other than work harder at being the man she needed him to be. In spite of his failures, his wife was finally here with him, trying to make things right. He'd best get on with answering her.

"I've told you before luv, I don't much care whether I pass on my dead genes or not. If another woman is birthing our baby, does it matter to you if that baby has our genes?"

"Yes. No? I don't know. Maybe?"

Pressing a kiss onto the top of her head, he said, "Well, that's more progress than we've made in the last five years. We can think on surrogacy if you want. No need to figure it all out tonight." When Buffy squeezed his hand in reply, he whispered into her hair, "Thank you."

She twisted to look up at his face. "For?"

"For coming back to me."

With a grimace she said, "Don't be too proud of me. It was purely selfish. I was getting lonely out there in Stupidsville, population: me."

"Never been there myself," Spike said, "though I have been known to hang out in Giant Wankerville."

Buffy laughed, and it was the sweetest sound he'd heard in a long time.

Despite her assurances to the contrary, it was very awkward around Willow and Tara these days, though she did her best to hide it. It had been her idea after all, an idea she had single-mindedly pushed the witches and her husband to accept, despite their repeated refusals.

But she'd had to know, hadn't she? Whether the miscarriages were his fault or hers? And now she had her answer.

Buffy sucked up the pain as best she could.

It wasn't only Willow and Tara's family that was painful. Being around any of her friends, even her sister, was becoming more difficult as their children grew and thrived while she had none.

But being around the witches' family was especially hard, no matter that she was the one to blame for how difficult it was. Every time she looked at their infant son Buffy thought, "He should be mine."

He wasn't. The little boy that would grow up to have sharp cheekbones and curly hair wasn't hers, would never be hers, and it broke her heart.

Tara and Willow offered to be surrogates, but Buffy didn't want that. She wanted to bear a child of her own.

She wanted to not fail as a woman and a mother.

It was the reason why she went to Andrew, asking him to try again. Buffy already knew it was likely pointless, but she couldn't help herself. Andrew, seeing her desperation, or possibly her cocked fists, caved. With an aching need to bear her own child of William's, she took the immunosuppressants Andrew recommended, praying that it would keep her body from rejecting the new life they had created. Only she and the man that had once been a prisoner in her house knew how high the risks were; she didn't share them with anybody else, least of all her husband.

This pregnancy lasted longer than the others, going well into the second trimester and continuing on to the point where she began to have hope. Buffy had actually been picking up the phone to call her mother and share the secret, thinking that it would take Joyce's mind off the cancer that had returned, when the cramping began.

At eighteen weeks, Buffy knew there was little hope of saving their baby. She'd been counting down the days until there was a chance, but she hadn't reached that point yet. Even had she reached the cutoff, her traitorous body was already undergoing what it considered a 'healing' process at an accelerated rate.

She hurled the phone against the wall where it shattered, sobbing out her sorrow and despair. Buffy couldn't stop howling, not even when her husband rushed to her side, pulling her into his embrace and holding her close as he tried desperately to comfort her.

"Breathe, luv," he implored, but she couldn't. All she could do was think about how she'd killed his baby, how the only thing she excelled at was killing.

Spike answered the door, his stomach plummeting as he saw the dark-haired woman standing there. "Cecily?" he said, his grip on the doorknob reducing it to a misshapen lump of metal.

"Halfrek," she reminded him with an airy laugh. "Hello William, long time no see."

Not since Xander and Anya's wedding, in fact. Twelve… thirteen years? More? It was hard to keep track when you'd lived so long.

"Come to collect that favor, then?" Spike asked. A note of worry crept into his voice. "Does it have to be now? Buffy and I-"

She cut him off. "A debt owed is a debt owed, William, no matter your personal life. Surely you're still demon enough to know this. Or if you'd prefer, I could undo your wish…?"

Bitch.

"No, no."

He couldn't help but growl in frustration. Buffy had scheduled tonight to talk with him, to work through how she felt about the idea of some other woman bearing the child she couldn't. How could Spike ask her to put that off?

Didn't matter. Their problems meant nothing to the demon, and refusing her would only make matters worse. He gritted his teeth. "Please, come in."

She smiled demurely, and for a moment Spike flashed back to his human life. The one where he'd worshipped this woman. Without even realizing it, his accent became more genteel, his manners more Victorian. "May I offer you some refreshments?"

"Tea would be lovely."

Spike busied himself in the kitchen, glad that Buffy was at the studio this evening. He was terrified to find out just what Halfrek would want from him, terrified that it would destroy the fragile relationship he and his wife were in the process of rebuilding. While their deal had stipulated that the vengeance demon wouldn't force him into anything that he found morally objectionable, it didn't mean there wouldn't be other negative consequences.

Magic always has consequences.

Always.

When the tea had been served, Halfrek unearthed a folder from her bag and set it on the coffee table. Spike eyed the folder but didn't reach for it, waiting to see what she would say.

"I have a pair of twins that you are going to raise," she informed him without preamble.

"Hold on – huh?" he sputtered. "Twins? Human or…? And why?"

She gave him a knowing smile. "I'm actually doing you and Buffy another favor, if what Anyanka tells me is true. But take these children and we'll call it even." Spike opened his mouth to demand answers and she waved him off. "Patience, William! It is a trait you simply must develop as a father."

With a glare he shut his mouth and waited, drumming his fingers against his thigh instead.

"I had a gig last week," she said. "Quite a delicious one, I must say. The young man was terribly inventive. Very hurt, he'd been." She examined her nails as she continued talking. "At the end of it all, the boy's newborn half-brother and half-sister were left with no family to care for them. Rather tragic, really. However, I have a heart. I wouldn't simply leave a pair of infants to die in a ruined town. Goes against my thing for helping children, you understand."

Spike cocked an eyebrow. "How very noble of you."

"Isn't it?" She lowered her voice, as if imparting a dirty secret. "So I began to look into the babies' background, to try to find some distant family to bring them to. Not my normal way of doing things, but…"

"Feeling guilty, were you?"

Her tinkling laugh rang out. "Guilty? My, what a sense of humor you have. No, no, I simply didn't wish to leave them to an orphanage." She shuddered at the thought. "At any rate, my search led me to… you."

"WHY is this so important to you, Buffy?" Willow was crying openly now. "How can this possibly make anything better?"

How indeed? Buffy wasn't sure, but she was still convinced it was the right thing to do. She'd thought it through, had her arguments all laid out and ready to use.

"If Spike and I already had kids, you would have asked us – Spike – to be the donor, right?" Willow hesitated, then nodded. "It's no different, not really. The only reason anybody is saying no is because you're all afraid it'll be too much for me to handle. I really wish everybody would stop treating me like I'm so damn fragile."

She turned to Spike, trying not to notice the others' winces, winces which only proved her accusation. "Honey. Does the idea of Willow and Tara raising your son bother you?" She held up a hand to stop his automatic response. "Take me out of it," she insisted. "Forget about our problems. Would you do this for them?"

He searched her eyes before he spoke. "Gladly," he answered gravely. "They make wonderful mums. A child couldn't be in a better family. And I've told you before, pet, the DNA doesn't matter to me. He'd be a nephew in my eyes, not a son."

Buffy held her hands out to her friends, imploring them to see her reasoning. "If you don't do this, you're just going to make me feel worse. You're making me feel all selfish, like I'm stopping you from having the family you want. What do you think it does to me, knowing that I'm the reason you don't have a son?"

"But there are other…" Tara began, and Buffy cut her off.

"What are the 'other' options? Any which way you look at it, whatever you choose is going to remind me of what I've lost. If you don't have a kid, I'll know it's because I haven't been able to. If you don't have a boy, I'll know it's because of me. If you choose a stranger as a donor, I'll know you're settling for something you'd rather not – again because of me. Don't… don't do that to me, Tara. Willow.

"Spike's right, you deserve this baby. And I want this. It would make me happy to see you guys happy, and it's going to kill me if you keep saying no. I'm not saying it will be easy for me… But just because I can't…" She swallowed and steeled herself to remain calm. "Just because I can't doesn't mean you shouldn't. It's something you want that I can help you with, just like you'd help me out."

She mostly believed it, too. Buffy really did want to do this for her friends, despite the less altruistic motives she wasn't sharing with the others.

"And then… and then after you've had your baby, we can talk about surrogacy, okay? I mean, you're taking the risk, so you should get the first payoff." That sounded reasonable, right?

It must have, because by the end of the night, she'd finally convinced them.