Buffy opened her eyes, it took her a few seconds to realize she was still in Spike's bed. She gave a heavy sigh, glancing up at the bedside table, noticing a book whose cover had been completely wrapped in duct tape.

What the hell is that all about?

She pulled herself up into a sitting position, curling her legs under herself and picked up the book, opening it to the title page.

'So You're Going to Be a Dad, Now What?'

She turned a few pages, noticing his neat scrawl. He had been making notes in the margins. A smile tugged at the corner of her lips as she flipped through the book. He had highlighted whole paragraphs and the margins were saturated with his writing. She couldn't help but imagine Giles' appalled look if he saw the state of it. She had seen used textbooks in better shape than this.

The book was divided up by week of pregnancy and he had filled in the margins on each week. As she read them she realized he hadn't just been making notes. Some of what he wrote almost read like mini journal entries, mostly about conversations they had had about the babies. However a few lines detailed some of his concerns about fatherhood, musings about their relationship, and thoughts on getting his soul.

The writing stopped abruptly at 16, her current week. The last note caught her eye:

I just hope Buffy doesn't go calling the git the minute she finds out what I'm doing. Don't want or need that wanker's help. Don't see me being the sort to sit around brooding all damn day. I got something Peaches didn't. I got a reason to want this. Hell, I got four, counting the Bit. I just hope Buffy understands why I've got to do this. This isn't just for her.

It suddenly hit her that he was essentially chronicling her pregnancy from his perspective.

Her heart had been on a roller coaster ride as she read and her eyes had started to sting again. Buffy shook her head, "Spike, you dope. I still wish you had talked to me," she muttered as she set down the journal with a sigh.

Buffy rubbed her arms as she looked around his room. This wasn't getting her anywhere. He had been her biggest source of support since they faced Glory. Just because Spike was fast asleep didn't mean she couldn't still be there for him. Yes she was still angry no one had told her about it, especially Spike but at least she was starting to understand a little better now that she had had time to think.

There's no way I'm letting Spike leave the house until I know he's alright… Huhh, Spike not leaving my house, looks like he got his wish, after all. Too bad he's kinda stuck in the basement.

Buffy took a deep breath and pulled herself out of bed, fixed the bed and pulled out a brown paper grocery bag. From a spot he kept them by his book shelf. She put the parenting book in the bottom, looked over his beat up little bookshelf and threw in a couple paperbacks. She grabbed a few changes of clothes, stuffing them in on top of the books. She could always come back for more if she needed to but this should do for now.

As she neared her house she wasn't sure how she was going to face Willow after everything she had said. She had been so angry that the things that had been rolling inside her head for months, just burst forth. Willow was only trying to help. She knew it but it still didn't help much. Being kept in the dark still stung and the idea that it was meant to be a surprise "gift" just irritated her.

Spike's voice came back to her, "I want to get something for you and the Double-mints…"

"Spike, you idiot…" she muttered aloud as she shifted the bag in her arms.

The house was dark and quiet when she made her way in through the kitchen door. She really had no desire to talk to anyone yet. The only thing she wanted to do was check on Spike. She wasn't surprised to find him sleeping soundly when she went downstairs.

That spell of Will's must be a doozy…

She set the bag down next to the cot and watched him. Her anger was slowly starting to ebb. Lifting the blanket, she lowered herself to spoon in next to him, wrapping his arm, chain and all, around her. He flexed his arm in his sleep, pulling her into his chest. She exhaled deeply as she began to let her body relax into him.

Buffy awoke to the sound of chains jangling and shifted herself around to face Spike. He had shoved himself against the wall at the top of the cot with his knees pulled up tight against his chest as though he were afraid to let any part of him touch her. He had a vacant look on his face and he was rocking very slightly.

Buffy scrunched up her forehead in concern, "Spike?"

He ducked his head, burrowing his face into his knees. Buffy reached a hand toward him, "Spike? Are you alright?"

He flinched and shook his head without looking up at her.

"Spike, look at me, please."

"Can't. Sunshine burns—"

"You're in my basement, you're safe here. With me." She stroked the side of his face. He leaned into her touch momentarily before turning his face from her.

"Can't—"

"Can't what?"

"All here, all talking… all screaming…"

"No one is screaming," she said very gently, "what can't you do, Spike?"

He shook his head again, turning away, "Shouldn't be here. I- I should go. I should—"

"I hate to break it to you but until you start making more sense, you're not going anywhere. What you are going to do is talk to me, eat something and talk to me some more. Like you should have done in the first place."

He muttered something she couldn't understand.

"Ehh?"

"I'm sorry," he whispered.

"For not telling me?"

"For existing— for—" he swallowed hard, "for everything— all of them— all screaming… crying— all the blood…"

Buffy wasn't sure what to say, a dozen platitudes crossed through her mind and nothing seemed to fit the situation. She took a deep breath and turned to look at him seriously. "I wish you would have talked to me."

"Couldn't— couldn't risk— bad man— Spike is a bad man…"

"I've seen you change. I've watched you trying to do the right thing, even when you have no clue what that is. Just these last few months you have worked so hard to be the man we need. I'm not giving up on you. We have come way too far, so don't go all looney on us now."

He looked up at her, "Buffy?"

"Yeah, Spike?"

"I—" he shook his head and buried his head in his knees again.

Buffy stood up from the cot, stretching. She frowned and bit her lip, "Can I ask you a question?"

A nod.

"Do you still love me?"

His head rose very slowly, blue eyes shining, "What?"

"Do you still love me?" She repeated.

Spike blinked at her, nodding his head numbly, "With everything I am— what little that is."

"And do you still want to be a father to our babies?"

Another slow nod, "Of course I do."

"Then don't give up on us."

"Buffy—" he rasped.

"Your family needs you; now more than ever. I need you."

Spike swallowed hard, dropping his gaze again.

Buffy kneeled on the cot in front of him, pulling his head towards her. "I need you, Spike. I need you to keep fighting. Do you hear me?"

Tears welled in his eyes and he choked down a breath, "I hear you, Slayer."

"Good." She held him against her like that for a long time and didn't pull back from him until a deep ache had settled into her knees. Buffy stroked his hair; it was slightly oily and had bits of dirt dried into it. She shook her head as she slowly pulled away to stand, "I brought some stuff from your crypt for you. Do you feel like eating?"

"No," he mumbled quietly.

She gripped his shoulder, "I need to go check on a few things and have a chat with Willow. Why don't you lay back down and get some rest. I'll be back later. Maybe we can get you into the shower, it might help a little. Your hair is kinda icky."

He managed a microscopic smile at that and a pinprick of hope started to shine through with it.

"Do I really need these?" He asked, gesturing to the shackles.

Buffy bit her lip, "Depends on if you're going to try to throw yourself into the sunlight again. I'm thinking that's a big 'not yet'. I really need to know you're going to be alright first."

"You really care that much?"

The words had been soft but they hit her like a spear to the heart. "With everything I am," she echoed his words back to him.

Spike swallowed, "I don't deserve you. You're too good for me…"

"Don't you think I should have a say in that?"

Willow was sitting hunched in on herself at the kitchen island huddled around a cup of tea, when Buffy came up the basement stairs. Willow gave a sniff, cutting off a sob and wiped her eyes as she noticed Buffy watching her.

The last tendrils of anger, Buffy was still holding onto faded even more at the sight of her. Buffy sat down on the stool next to her not saying anything.

"How is he?" Willow choked.

"Kinda rough but at least he was able to talk to me a little."

"That's good…" she sniffed.

Buffy sighed heavily, turning towards her friend, "I'm sorry I yelled, I was being kind of a bitch."

Willow shook her head, "No, that's just it… you have a point. I did do all that… Tara got the part-time job at the library and what did I do?"

"Kept my sister in her own home and got the Buffy-Bot up and running so it could fill in for me, for starters. I mean the house was pretty much spotless when I got back," Buffy tried to sound gracious.

"Yeah well a lot of that was Spike and Tara too."

Buffy took a deep breath, "Will, you brought me back and that's— great. I'm glad to be back for Dawn and a chance at a life I never thought I'd get. But honestly, it's been really hard. Really, really, hard. For a long time there the only one I could even think about talking to was Spike. He is the one who kept me from going out and finding that one fight I wouldn't walk away from."

Willow gaped at her, "Buffy— I- I didn't know—"

"No, you didn't. That was part of the problem, you guys— mostly you and Xan just wanted me to pop out of my grave like a Buffy-in-the-box and be my happy self. I wasn't in a great headspace the night I died, Will. Spike being with me helped, but we were both—"

"Ohh yeah, you really don't need to explain the whole conception thing."

Buffy nodded, "Well, yeah… obviously," she gave a weak smirk and patted her belly. "I just mean that I wouldn't be in the infinitely better state of mind I'm in now if it wasn't for Spike. So I don't care what it takes. If you really want to help me, then help me get Spike through this. I can't really call off work and I don't have any idea what Spike told the Bronze-"

Willow set down her tea cup, "Don't worry, he bought himself a couple of weeks."

Buffy glared at Willow, "Again, I'm not expecting instant results here."

Willow cleared her throat, "Right, so nice and easy."

"Exactly."

"Does this mean we're still friends?" Willow asked shyly.

Buffy turned to look Willow squarely in the eye, "I know you meant well. I think I'm mostly angry at myself. I drove him to it—"

Willow sighed as she took a sip of tea, "I tried telling him it wasn't a guarantee you would love him but he was really adamant."

Buffy frowned, "That's just it, Will, I think I already do… I think I really do love him—I've just been scared about letting myself actually take the plunge. I- I tried telling him but he—" her voice cracked, "I just really need him to be alright."

Spike had been staying in the basement for the better part of a week and still hadn't eaten anything. He was at least starting to make more sense and had almost completely stopped talking about the sun. There had been the incident with the nail though.

Buffy had come home from work to find Spike had managed to pull a nail out from under one of the boxes near his cot and was scratching his chest just over his heart with it, saying that it burned. Buffy had insisted on staying with him in the basement that night and after a very long discussion that had been the end of any further self harm.

Buffy was in the kitchen, it was almost dinner time, and she had just pulled a roasted chicken out of the oven, when fresh screams erupted from the basement. She flicked off the oven and threw the oven mitt over her shoulder as she ran for the stairs. Spike had been having a steady stream of hot and cold running nightmares since his ensoulment but it still made her blood run cold every time he woke up screaming.

When she got to the bottom of the stairs, Spike was sitting up on the cot with his back pressed against the cool concrete wall, panting. She inched her way toward him cautiously, "Hey, what's all the racket down here?" She had been trying for levity but her tone didn't match the words. It came out much softer and she sat down on the edge of the cot with him.

Spike turned haunted eyes on her, "Sorry—" his voice was horse from his screams and a lack of blood.

"I was only kidding. Which one was it this time?"

He shook his head, "My worst memory, now in a new and improved nightmare flavor." He jerked his head back to look up at the ceiling.

She shifted her position in an attempt to get comfortable. "Ahh huh, okay… so what was it?"

"My mum—" he shivered.

Buffy frowned, "I thought you liked your mom, you wanted to use 'Ann' for her..."

He scratched the back of his neck, "My mum was an angel of a woman— but what I did— what she became…" he lowered his head, covering his face in his hands.

Something twisted violently in her stomach and she struggled to keep her voice even, "Spike, Honey, you can tell me."

He pulled his head up slowly, a look of utter defeat colored his features and he swallowed hard, "Mum was sick, consumption… eh tuberculosis, she—" he paused, taking several ragged unnecessary breaths, "I didn't understand about the demon— I thought it was a gift… I—"

Buffy stifled a gasp, "You turned her?"

Spike nodded weakly, "I was naive, I thought she could just come along with me and Dru and we'd be a family— didn't know anything about Angelus or Darla— I… god I was an idiot…"

Buffy could feel the muscles in her back tighten, "What happened?"

Spike cleared his throat, "She ah— the demon that is— she said some right nasty things, tried to force herself on me—"

Buffy shifted in her seat, moving a little closer to him, she wanted to respond but couldn't, it was just too awful.

Spike had started rubbing at the spot on his chest he had scored with the nail and his voice came out strained, "I— I was a good son… she was a lovely mum and— and that thing— that— that wasn't my mum…" he looked up at Buffy like he just realized something profound. He rocked a little, shaking his head, "No, it— it was the demon that said those things. It was— I killed her twice— what kind of a son kills his mother, twice?"

"It wasn't your mother, not any more."

"I loved my mum… Thought I was saving her— thought I was—"

Buffy's heart broke as she watched him curl in on himself again. This wasn't going to be an easy road for any of them. But maybe it didn't have to be completely awful. She wrapped an arm around him, drawing him into her. Giving him a safe place to work through the emotions clawing around inside of him.

Dawn's voice called from above, "Buffy? Is dinner ready?"

Buffy sighed and patted his shoulder and took a deep breath, "There's fresh blood from the butcher in the fridge if you're hungry," she said very softly, "and I made chicken if you feel like having something solid."

He gave an awkward little nod from where his head rested against her shoulder, "Can smell the chicken."

"Do you want some? You can come upstairs if you're feeling up to it."

"No thanks, pet."

Buffy smiled a little at the endearment, "How about I warm up some blood for you? You still haven't eaten anything, you're really starting to worry me."

"It's not pig, is it?"

"Getting picky now?"

He pulled himself up to sit, scrubbing his face and grimaced a little, "Not sure if I can handle pig right now, too close to human."

"I'll take a look, I think Xander went a little overboard and got a variety— not sure if he's going to be able to go into that butcher shop again."

"Anything but pig." Buffy started to get up when he gripped her wrist gently, "Thank you."

She shook her head, a faint smile on her lips, "You're welcome, dummy."

Spike took the mug of cow's blood Buffy handed him. He took a tentative sip and pulled a mildly disgusted face.

"Should be warm enough," Buffy said as she settled next to him on the cot, with a cup of yogurt, pressing her back against the concrete wall.

Spike shook his head. "No, Luv, it's not that. Just for a second it reminded me of this time Angelus and I got stranded in Spain. There was this cattle car and—" he cleared his throat, "on second thought, think I'll skip that trip down memory lane..." He eyed the blood in his cup as though it had just insulted him. Then quickly gulped it down, swallowing bitterly to force it down. He looked like a kid being force fed overcooked broccoli. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, shoving the cup back toward Buffy. "Happy?" He choked out and nearly gagged.

Buffy frowned at him but nodded, "For now." She set her yogurt down on a box and reached for his hand. Spike made an odd little twitch but didn't actually pull away. He relaxed as she took his hand into her smaller ones, turning it over and examining his fingers. "You're really dirty."

"Tell me something I don't know," he groused.

Buffy smiled, "Aww, see? There's my guy, I knew he was still in there somewhere."

His chest constricted, "Your guy?"

"Don't be such a dope. Of course you're my guy. Got you chained up in my basement and everything." She smiled.

He rolled his eyes, "Where the hell were these last week? How long you planning on keeping me chained up anyway?"

She released his hand and pulled her yogurt back over, taking a lick off the spoon. "Dunno, how long do you plan on trying to hurt yourself?"

Spike frowned as he watched her, "I— humm… Stars and stones, woman! Must you do that?" He balled his fist and turned his gaze straight ahead, focusing on the washing machine instead of Buffy.

"What? Eat yogurt? It's my dessert." She bit back a grin.

"You know damn well what that does to me."

Buffy placed the spoon in her mouth, pulling it out slowly, teasing him. This was the biggest and best sign she'd seen so far, promising her he would eventually be alright.

"I ever tell you I died a virgin?" He asked lightly.

Buffy smirked, "Yeah? Me too… the first time. Definitely not the second time…"

He snorted a laugh, "This some sort of a test?"

"Maybe a little."

"And how am I doing?"

She shrugged, "I think there's a lot you have to work through, and some stuff WE have to work through. But you can still joke around with me and that's a really good sign," she tilted her head slightly, looking at him, "overall I think we're going to get through this. Together."