Chapter Twenty-Nine – Not My Brother

Spike breathed hard through the scarf as he looked over his progress. He'd cleared the front walk and was about halfway done clearing the driveway of the nearly two-foot drift of snow covering most of it. He stamped his feet, knocking the snow off his boots, then leaned the shovel handle against his chest and flexed his cold fingers before he snugged the hood tighter on his head and gripped the shovel. He bent to the task again and had moved several shovelfuls of snow when a voice said, "Hey," from the street.

He tossed a shovelful of snow and turned to face a man standing on the sidewalk holding a dog's leash. He drove the blade of the shovel into the drift and rested his forearms on the handle with a panted, "Hello, sir," then glanced up at the snow-laden sky and said, "Lovely day for shiftin' a few metric tons of snow, innit?" He waved at the part of the driveway he'd cleared. "If it keeps comin' down like this, I'll need to start again once I've finished."

The man laughed, "Yeah, you could be out here shoveling 24/7 and you'd never be done. You should get a snowblower."

Spike pulled his scarf down and smiled, "I'll mention it to the homeowner, if I've not frozen solid 'fore he returns."

"I'm Dave, and I don't think I've seen you before." He looked around at the quiet cul-de-sac. "Where's your truck? Or are you just walking around asking to shovel people's driveways?"

"No, sir." He pointed at the apartment over the garage. "I took up residence two days ago."

"You moved in with Nurse Summers? You her brother or something?"

"No, sir, I'm not her brother. May I ask how you know her?"

"I'm her neighbor," he pointed at the house on the corner that had a police cruiser parked in the driveway, then said, "I've also talked to her several times at the emergency room, and she's never mentioned you. Where'd you move from?"

Spike swallowed hard then said quietly, "I was released from prison on Monday, sir. Xan, uh… Mr. Harris, came down to collect me and brought me here."

Dave's eyes narrowed, "You on parole?"

"No, sir."

"What's your name?"

The front door opened and Willow hurried down the sidewalk, pulling her coat on as Spike said, "William Pratt, sir."

"Are you related to the Harrises?"

"No, sir."

"What were you in for?"

Willow stepped up beside Spike and asked, "Is there a problem, Sergeant?"

Dave shook his head. "No, no problem. Just chatting with Mr. Pratt."

"Okay, well, I think he's been out here long enough." She turned to Spike. "Come in and warm up a little and I'll make you some cocoa."

Spike shook his head and waved at the half of the driveway still buried in snow. "I'm all right, ma'am. I'd like to get this done 'fore Xan returns and then I need to get back up to the flat to tend to Buffy."

Dave asked, "Tend to her? What do you mean by that?"

Spike looked over at him. "She's ill, sir, so I'm carin' for her. Preparin' meals and makin' sure she rests and like that."

"What's your relationship to her?"

Willow snapped, "I don't see how that's any of your business, Sergeant. Who I have living on my property and their relationship to each other or to me isn't your concern."

Dave held up a placating hand then motioned to Spike. "You're aware of his status?"

"His status? You mean that he was in prison? Yes, I'm completely aware of his 'status,' and since he's not doing anything even a little bit suspicious, I'd like you to leave him alone so he can finish shoveling the damn driveway before he freezes to death."

Dave raised a placating hand again and took a step backwards, "Okay, Mrs. Harris. Say hello to your husband for me."

"I will." They stood and watched him walk down the middle of the street toward his house, and when he'd disappeared inside, Willow muttered, "Who walks their dog in this kind of weather? Did you see the poor thing? Shivering like that?"

"He was just concerned 'bout the unfamiliar person near his home, ma'am."

Willow turned to look at him. "No, he's just nosy and has to be up in everyone's business all the time. He was over here 'walking his dog' less than an hour after we backed up the U-Haul, and he's 'walked his dog' over here anytime any of us is outside for more than five minutes. He'll probably run your name the next time he goes to work to find out everything he can about you, too."

"Will me stayin' with Buffy be a problem? I don't want to get her in any kind of trouble, and he seemed to be very interested in my relationship to her, so do I need to go?" He looked around at the snowy neighborhood. "Not sure where I'd go, but if me bein' here will cause problems for her, then…"

Willow laid a hand on his arm. "You being here isn't going to cause anybody any problems. You and Buffy are both adults and are free to live together if you want to. Like I said, he's just nosy, so when, not if, when, he 'walks his dog' over here again, don't feel obligated to give him any personal information or answer any of his questions unless he shows up in an official capacity."

"Do you think that's somethin' that's likely to happen?"

Willow smiled, "Only if you're planning to return to a life of crime. Is that something that's likely to happen?"

Spike vehemently shook his head. "No, ma'am. Not that it means much, but you have my word."

Willow shivered a bit and pulled her coat tighter around herself. "I need to get back inside before Tara completely destroys the living room. You sure you don't want some cocoa? You've got to be about half frozen."

Spike shook his head again, "I'm all right, ma'am." He tugged his scarf back up and pulled the shovel out of the drift. "I appreciate the offer, but I'd like to finish this."

"Okay. Come in when you're done. I have a casserole in the oven for you two so you don't have to cook."

Spike blinked at her then nodded. "All right, ma'am. Thank you."

Willow smiled at him then turned and walked back into the house. Spike watched her then took a grip on the shovel and resumed scooping snow. As he shoveled, he glanced at Dave's house, smirking under the scarf when he noticed the curtain in one of the upstairs windows twitching open several times.

He'd just finished clearing the walk for the second time when Xander pulled into the driveway. Xander rolled down the window and leaned over the center console, "Hey, Spike, what are you doing out here?"

Spike pulled down the scarf as he held up the shovel and said with a grin, "What's it look like I'm doin'?"

Xander laughed, "Okay, I get what you're doing, but why are you doing it?"

Spike nodded over his shoulder at the house, "Your wife asked me to."

Xander looked around at the tall mounds of snow lining the sidewalk and both sides of the driveway. "You shoveled the whole thing?"

Spike walked over to the truck and leaned a forearm on the door. "I did. Twice." He glanced up at the sky. "Would've had to do it a third time, but it finally stopped snowin'."

Xander chuckled as he punched the button for the garage door, "I usually just clear my side and Buffy's side and pile the snow in the middle."

Spike groaned, "That's information I could've used, mate. My back and arms are bloody killin' me and I think my fingers have frozen solid."

Xander smirked as he let his foot off the brake, "Maybe Buffy'll give you another massage."

Spike backed away from the truck as Xander pulled it into the garage then he followed it in and leaned the shovel up against the wall. Xander got out and walked toward the stairs as the garage door closed and Spike said, "Doubtful, bein' that she's ill. She's got the flu."

"Yeah, Willow told me." Xander turned and looked him over. "Buffy let you shovel snow while you're sick? That's not very nursey of her."

Spike chuckled, "I'm not sick, at least not yet. I'm knackered and sore and so hungry I could eat your truck, but other than that, I'm fine." He nodded at the door. "Willow said she's made a casserole for Buffy and that I was to collect it when I'd finished."

Xander nodded. "Okay, come on in then." He started up the stairs then stopped and bent down, picking up the Fedex envelope. He read it then turned to hand it to Spike. "This is yours. Faith sent it."

Spike took the envelope. "Yeah, Willow left it there for me. I expect it's somethin' to do with the trials." He tucked the envelope under his arm as he stepped up on the bottom stair and asked, "You sure she's all right with me comin' in?"

"Why wouldn't she be?"

Spike shrugged, "Just want to make sure my presence in her home is wanted. I could just wait here if she'd rather I not come in."

Xander opened the door and leaned in then shouted, "Wils, can Spike come in?"

Willow appeared in the doorway to the laundry room and nodded. "Of course, he can." She pointed to the coat rack on the wall. "Just hang your coat up there and your boots go there," she pointed to a line of boots and shoes on a rug running along the wall.

Xander stepped through the door, sliding out of his coat as he walked over to the coat rack. He hung up his coat then sat down on a small bench to unlace his boots. When he had them off, he stood and turned to Willow, pulling her into a kiss. "Something smells good. Is that our dinner or Buffy and Spike's dinner?"

Willow laughed, "Both. I made two casseroles."

Spike stepped tentatively into the house then said, "Thank you for allowin' me into your home, ma'am, but uh, I should probably get back to Buffy."

"She's asleep, or at least she was when I went to check on her because she wasn't answering my texts, so you can come in and have some cocoa."

Xander nipped at the end of Willow's nose then said, "He's beat, Wils, so let's let him go home. He can come in and visit another time."

"Okay. I'll go grab the casserole."

Spike took the casserole dish carefully in his gloved hands and said, "Smells wonderful, ma'am, and thank you for preparin' it. I'll clean the dish and return it to you in a day or two."

"You don't need to bring it back. It's Buffy's."

Spike smiled and dipped his head, "All right. Thank you again, ma'am." He looked over at Xander. "See you later, mate. Enjoy your snow-free drive."

Xander laughed, "I will, at least for a couple of days until it snows again. Thanks for doing that. My back thanks you, too."

Spike smirked, "How much are snowblowers? Think that's an item I'd like to procure right after I get a mobile, since it's lookin' to be somethin' that'd get quite a bit of use 'round here."

"I've been thinking about getting one. I'll go halves on one, if you want, and we can take turns using it."

"Sounds good, and both our backs will likely be giddy at the prospect." He lifted the casserole dish and smiled at Willow. "I'd better get this upstairs 'fore it goes cold. Thanks again, ma'am."

XXXX

Spike put the casserole dish and the Fedex envelope on the table by the door then stepped back out onto the landing and took his gloves off before bending down to unlace his boots. His back twinged when he did and he muttered, "That bench Xan has seems like a good idea." He groaned quietly when he stood up then toed his boots off and set them against the wall of the landing. He slid out of his coat and hung it on a hook above them then hung his hat, scarf, and his clipped together gloves on the other hooks.

Buffy was curled up, hugging a pillow to her chest as she slept, and something set in space was playing on the TV as he quietly closed the door. He carefully picked up the casserole dish by the edges and carried it into the kitchen then set it on the stove and pulled a plate out of the cupboard. He scooped a generous helping of casserole onto the plate, his cold, clumsy fingers making the procedure more difficult than usual, then poured a tall glass of milk and carried both items into the living room, setting them on the table next to the couch. He returned to the kitchen to fetch silverware then set it on the plate before bending over the back of the couch with another quiet groan. He brushed his fingers lightly against Buffy's shoulder and said, "Buffy? Luv? Willow's prepared dinner for you."

Buffy rolled onto her back and opened her eyes then yawned widely and smiled. "She made me food?"

Spike chuckled, "Yeah. It's just there, on the table." Buffy sat up, blinking sleepily, and Spike placed the pillows into a wedge for her to lean against. "You go ahead and eat. I'm gonna go change out of this kit." He straightened up, biting back the groan of pain, and started for the bedroom.

When he came out a few minutes later, nearly half of Buffy's casserole was gone and she was drinking the milk. She put the glass down and nodded to her plate. "This is good." She looked up at him. "You're gonna eat some, right? You didn't eat much of your lunch."

He nodded. "Yeah, I'll go get some now. Just wanted to get you fed first."

"How'd the shoveling go?"

"Fine. Got the drive and the walk cleared and met one of the neighbors."

"Which one?"

"Dave."

Buffy snorted a laugh, "Out walking his dog?"

"Yeah."

"Did he ask you a bunch of questions?"

"He did, yeah. Told 'im my name and that I'd just gotten out of prison and was stayin' in the flat. Willow popped out just as he asked what I was in prison for and essentially told him to mind his own business."

"Yeah, he's annoying. Every time I've talked to him at work, I feel like I'm being interrogated, so I stick to short answers and don't elaborate or anything."

Spike chuckled, "He asked if I was your brother."

Buffy laughed, "You are most definitely not my brother. We're not the Lannisters."

Spike sat down in the chair with his plate and a glass half full of milk and quirked an eyebrow at her. "Lannisters?"

"They're from a show called Game of Thrones. We'll watch it one of these days and you'll understand."

"All right." He took a bite of casserole then said, "Willow said Dave's probably gonna run my name to get information 'bout me."

"Yeah, he probably will. Why are you sitting over there?"

"Back's a bit sore and I thought it'd be easier on it to sit here."

"How sore?"

"Don't think I pulled anythin'. It's just from overuse, I expect."

Buffy nodded to his plate. "Eat and then we'll go take a hot shower to help loosen your muscles, and when we're done, I'll give you a massage."

"You don't need to, luv. You're not feelin' well and you should rest."

"I slept practically the whole time you were outside shoveling, so I'm rested enough to work out some of the kinks in your back. I actually don't feel that bad. My head still hurts, but I'm not as sore as I was, and my throat doesn't hardly hurt at all." She smirked, "Maybe it was the chicken noodle soup. My mom swears by it."

Spike chuckled, "Maybe it was, or could possibly be the Tylenol and sleep."

He took another bite of casserole and Buffy nodded to his plate, "That's all you dished for yourself? That's like half of what you gave me."

When he'd swallowed, he said, "Wanted to make sure you'd had your fill."

Buffy set her plate on the table and climbed off the bed then took Spike's plate from his hand and carried it into the kitchen. She scooped two large spoonfuls of casserole onto his plate then carried it back out to him and set it on his leg. "You burned a lot of calories today, so you need to replace them. Eat."

He smiled over at her as she climbed back into the bed and said, "Yes, ma'am."

Buffy waved at the table by the door. "What did Faith send you?"

Spike looked over at the Fedex envelope. "Oh, I don't know. I've not opened it yet."

"You probably should. Must be important since she sent it overnight."

Spike set his plate on the table and stood up with a quiet groan. As he walked over to the table by the door, Buffy said, "Yeah, you're getting a massage, and if I had a drug locker in here, you'd be getting a muscle relaxer and pain meds, too. You're moving like a ninety-year-old ex-bull rider or something."

Spike picked up the envelope and returned to the chair, sitting down with another groan. "Yeah, I've stopped movin' so things are tightenin' up and becomin' a bit more painful." He tore open the envelope and peered into it then upended it into his lap. Three smaller envelopes spilled out and he picked up the one on top and lifted the flap. He extracted a thick sheet of paper and unfolded it then said, "Bloody hell."

Buffy asked, "What is it?"

"My birth certificate." He held it out to her. "It says I was born in California."

Buffy took it and looked it over then asked, "You didn't know that?"

He shook his head. "No. I'd always assumed I was born in London, and Mum never said anything to the contrary. She never spoke about my father or my birth, at least not that I remember, aside from tellin' me he lived in California the one time I asked her 'bout him."

"So you're actually a Colonial and not English?"

"Mum was English, so I'm English, and I'd have to be a British citizen, I would think, or I couldn't have been registered for school, although the California birth certificate does explain why I was shipped to the States when Mum died 'stead of goin' to live with relatives. I had a few aunts and uncles and several cousins there, if I remember correctly."

Buffy motioned to the other envelopes in Spike's lap. "Open those." Spike picked up the second envelope and opened the flap, extracting a few sheets of folded paper. "What's that one?"

"Proof of my British citizenship. I'm a citizen of both countries, it would seem."

"You didn't know any of this?"

"No. Things like this generally aren't discussed with children and I was barely eleven when Mum died. She'd have likely explained it when I came of age and needed access to my documents."

"Yeah, I guess I can understand that. I didn't see my birth certificate until I got my driver's license." She barked a laugh, "I was finally able to prove to Faith that I was born and not hatched from a giant egg they found in the back yard like she'd been telling me my whole life." She pointed to the last envelope in his lap. "What's in the last one?"

Spike opened the flap and plucked out a small rectangle of plastic. "A California identification card, and…" he pulled out a blue paper rectangle and held it up. "Not sure what this is."

"It's your social security card. That number proves to the US Government that you exist so they can tax you."

Spike chuckled, "All right." He held up the ID card. "That's the photo that was taken of me when I arrived at the second prison, but I haven't been in California since I was transferred out of the first prison."

"What's the address on the ID?"

Spike peered at it and scowled, "My father's house."

"Probably because that's your last legal address, but now that you have all this stuff, we can go get you a Wyoming ID if you want. I'll look to see what else you need, like proof of residence or whatever, and we'll get it."

Spike nodded absently then asked, "How'd your sis get all these things?"

"No idea." Buffy picked up her phone and said, "But I'll text her and ask." She looked over at Spike then nodded to his plate. "Eat."

Spike gathered his documents and the envelopes and stuffed everything back into the Fedex envelope then picked up his plate as Buffy tapped on her phone. She snorted a laugh and looked over at Spike, "Willow texted me that you keep calling her ma'am."

Spike ducked his head shyly and muttered, "Yeah. Just doesn't feel right to use her given name. Don't really know her and that seems a bit too… familiar." He looked over at Buffy, "She's not cross with me 'bout it, is she? I'll try to stop callin' her that if it bothers her."

"She's not mad about it. She said she thinks it's sweet that you're so polite..." Buffy held up her phone and read from the screen, "even though I can feel myself getting older and older every time he says it and I'll be yelling at the neighbor kids to get off my lawn anytime now."

Spike chuckled, "I'll try to limit my use of the word, so I don't age her prematurely."