destructo-girl.com

"Humanitis "

Author: Saber
Email: daschus@adsnet.com

Buffy crept quietly into her bedroom after changing into her pajamas a little after two that morning and looked down at the sleeping man in her bed, this time curled up on his other side. She wondered when he went to the store because all he was wearing was a pair of sweat shorts and was looking decidedly yummy in them. Her lips slowly went up in a devilish smile and she lay down next to him, propping her head on her fist. She reached out with her other hand and began rubbing his shoulder. "Spike," she called quietly. He stirred a little, but did not respond. "Spike."

Spike's eyes barely opened and he saw Buffy next to him on the bed. "Back already, pet," he mumbled sleepily, his dream world running over to the real world again. He reached out his own hand instinctively and slid it under her nightshirt, then began to lightly rub her abdomen. "What did the doctor say?"

*Mmm, that feels good,* she thought as his warm fingers brushed over her skin. "About what?" she asked, debating on whether to stop him or not.

"What do you think, luv?" Spike said. Before Buffy knew it, he had slid his hand down the front of her shorts and was stroking her most sensitive area. She let out a small gasp and found herself arching into his hand. "It's not going to hurt the baby, is it?"

"Ba-," she gasped as his finger penetrated her. "-by?" She knew she had to stop him, was being exceedingly unfaithful to a man that she couldn't touch or couldn't touch her. She moaned, from pleasure, that thought and her predicament. All she wanted to do was see what else was in Spike's dreams, not feel them.

"I want you so badly," he whispered in a dream-filled voice. He opened his eyes a little and saw Buffy biting her lip, her eyes tightly closed. He pushed her down flat with his arm and scooted closer to her, nuzzling her neck. His fingers did not stop their lazy assault on her core.

Buffy felt his erection press up against her hip and she let out a little squeak. Between his lips on her neck, his shaft pressed against her and his fingers playing with her she knew she was in deep, deep trouble. Then she started to feel the tightening of her muscles between her legs and knew she was about to orgasm. "Oh god, Spike," she breathed as she went over the edge, her hips arching and writhing against his hand. Her muscles in her entire body melted with the orgasm and she could do nothing but lay limp as a noodle, her breathing heavy and her heart racing.

She felt his hand leave her and she actually made a slight whimper at the loss of contact, until she felt him pushing her to her side so her back was up against his chest. Her eyes widened when her shorts were slowly being pushed down and she tried to tell her body to move, but it wouldn't listen.

"Is it ok, luv?" he said in a low, sleep filled voice by her ear. She felt his much more of his erection as it was pressed against her backside, skin touching skin. His hand slid down her hip to her folds again, parting them while shifting his hips.

When she felt the tip of his shaft at her opening, her body jerked back in excitement, effectively impaling herself on him. Buffy moaned low in her throat at the same time he did and his fingers played with her clit once more as he began to move in and out of her at a very slow pace. Her eyes were squeezed shut, her breaths coming in short pants as he filled her near virginal passage with each thrust of his hips. It felt so unbelievably good, but was so inconceivably wrong.

"Oh, Buffy," Spike breathed in her ear, his own dream world firmly enmeshed with the real one. He pushed his chest closer to her silk covered back, his mouth moving over the side of her neck behind her ear with little kisses and licks. "I adore you."

She was gone. Completely gone. His unconscious words sent shivers down her spine and she flew over the precipice again, her muscles jerking and clamping around him. She heard him let out a soft swear, then thrust up against her backside, fully sheathing himself in her as he came. He moved his hand so his arm was wrapped around her and he held her close.

Buffy felt like she was floating, like her limbs had decided to detach from her body and drift away. Her mind was running a million miles per hour, but not settling on one thing long enough for her to comprehend what she was thinking. All she could do was lay there entwined intimately with Spike.

Buffy's eyes were wide as his breathing became even, what just occurred finally sinking into her brain. "Oh god," she said quietly, extracting herself from him and getting out of the bed. She pulled her shorts up and made her way to the bathroom to clean up.

Turning on the light, her reflection caught her eye. Her face was flushed and her chest was rising and falling with each semi-quick breath. She put her hands to her cheeks and groaned. "I cannot believe that just happened." She looked at herself in the eyes. "I cannot believe that just happened and I enjoyed it. A lot."

She shook her head and sighed. She quickly went to the bathroom, then cleaned herself up from the aftermath of the lovemaking. And she knew on Spike's side it was definitely making love. Her head suddenly shot up and she looked at herself in the mirror as some of his sleep induced words penetrated her mind. "Baby?"

Buffy returned to the bedroom, took one look at Spike and freaked. She rushed over to the closet, blindly grabbing a shoe and shoving her foot into it. As she reached for another, she noted that the elastic of the shorts had at least ridden back up over him, then she made a strangled noise about the fact that she was looking in that area and yanked a coat off a hanger. She was halfway out the window when she remembered why she had gone to wake Spike up in the first place.

Avoiding looking at that one particular area, she grabbed his shoulder and began shaking him. "Spike, wake up," she said somewhat loudly.

"Stop your bloody shaking," Spike responding, coming awake. "I'm up." He turned his head and looked up at her. "What?"

"Bathroom. Go. You," she managed to get out before his oh-so-blue eyes affected her. She turned and practically threw herself out the window.

Spike frowned confusion at Buffy's actions as he sat up, his sleep filled brain still not functioning completely. He had been in the middle of one of his favorite dream-lines, where Buffy was pregnant with his child even though that was an impossibility. And as usual, it had become erotic. His frown deepened as he looked down at his lap and realized something was up, or more specifically not up. He patted the bed around him, searching but not finding the wet spot and wondered what was going on. He always woke up with a hard on or cum stained sheets when he dreamt like that.

*Maybe it's one of those human guy things,* he thought as got up and headed for the bathroom. When he returned, he looked at the open window, puzzled. Then he shrugged, settled himself on the floor and went back to sleep.

Angel's head shot up from the book he was reading when Buffy burst through the library doors. "Buffy?" he said, rising to his feet at her appearance. She had two different shoes on and her long, pink coat was buttoned lopsided, her legs bare as if she dressed in a hurry. "What's wrong?"

Buffy launched herself at him, wrapping her legs around his waist and grabbing the back of his head. She attacked his mouth with her own, forcing her tongue between his lips to taste him. She felt him stiffen under her and not just his cock, but still she continued.

Angel pried her arms from around his neck and managed to stop the kiss, boldly putting her back on her own two feet. He took several steps back from her, panting from the arousing assault. "Buffy, you know we can't do that," he said, forcing his hormones under control.

She stared at him wide eyed at the feelings, or rather lack of them, running through her body. She had felt nothing but a faint ‘this is nice' reaction to the powerful kiss. "Oh god," she gasped, covering her mouth with her hand, the realization that Spike's fingertips dancing along her abdomen in a non-sexual way had evoked more feelings than the kiss. "I...I..."

Angel watched as she turned and bolted out the door, confusion written plainly on his face. He looked over at Oz-wolf who was staring up at him curiously. "What the hell was that about?"

"Willow," Buffy called through the closed French doors of her best friend's bedroom as she rapped on the glass. "Willow."

A very sleepy Willow opened the door to see a panicked looking Buffy standing there. "Buffy, what's wrong?" she asked, stepping back to allow her friend to enter.

"I had sex with Spike and I liked it and then I went and kissed Angel and didn't feel anything," Buffy told her quickly, tears in her eyes.

Buffy nodded, sinking down at the end of the bed. "I didn't mean to, it's not like I initiated it or anything. But, Willow, it felt so good and then I kissed Angel and didn't feel anything!"

"Buffy, take a deep breath and start from the beginning," the red head instructed, sitting next to her on the bed.

"Ok," Buffy replied, doing as told. "Remember how I told you yesterday Spike talked in his sleep?"

"Right. Well, when I got home, I thought I'd see what else he was dreaming about," she said. "I got on the bed next to him and did the same thing as I did last night and he started talking to me again."

"He asked me if the doctor said it was ok, then started rubbing my belly," Buffy answered. "Then he put his hand down my shorts and started...you know."

Buffy nodded. "Then he asked if it was safe because of the baby and then he told me he wanted me and I came."

"And while he was... he told me he adored me, and we both came and then he said he loved me and fell back to sleep," Buffy finished. "Oh god, Willow. What am I going to do? It felt so wonderful, like I was dancing on a cloud. He was so tender and gentle, it's obvious he's totally in love with me."

"And there was nothing," Buffy said morosely. "I love Angel so much and I felt nothing!"

"Then you do nothing," Willow told her. "You could be mistaking good sex for feelings. Once he's gone, wait a few days, then try kissing Angel again."

Spike kicked the door closed behind him, then wandered into the kitchen with the two paper bags he held in his arms. Setting them down on the table, he shed his duster then looked curiously around the room. "Well, mate, looks like you get to learn your way around a kitchen," he said to himself as he started to open cabinets.

He hadn't realized humans kept the amount of food he found in the cabinets and fridge. He went back over to the bags on the table and pulled out the two notes he'd found that morning in the Summers' kitchen, along with the grocery bags of tupperware containers.

The first note was a brief one from Joyce, telling him to call if he had any questions whatsoever. The second note was longer and he smoothed it out on the table along with the small box that had been with it.

Spike~ Had to skip out early, so I didn't wake you. Couple things - to get through the night, don't drink anything for at least an hour before bed and use the bathroom just before going to sleep; don't invite anyone into your house; and be careful if you go out at night. There are all sorts of evil nasties out there and you probably know a few by name. Good luck, Buffy PS In the box is a little something for protection.

Spike opened the box for the second time that day and took out the small, plain, gold cross necklace. He unhooked the clasp and put it on, tucking it under his shirt. He was still amazed when it didn't burn him and even more so that the Slayer was concerned for his safety.

Standing, he picked the note up and put it and the phone numbers on the refrigerator using the magnets the family who had owned the house had used. Taking a step back, he surveyed the letter magnets that had been put together one drunken night months ago and hadn't been changed. He reached out and straightened the ‘f' and the ‘v' in the words ‘I love Buffy,' then returned to unpacking the food that Joyce had sent with him from the bags.

"I wonder how Spike is," Buffy said as she did pushups on the front lawn of the school. She was still undergoing Wesley's physical fitness testing with Faith and finally admitted to herself that she did want to do better than the other Slayer.

"Did you know that you've asked that question everyday for the past two weeks?" Willow said, flipping through her history textbook. "That would suggest that you're having serious thoughts about a certain blond vampire-no-more."

Buffy looked up at the red head. "Well maybe I've been thinking about him. But just a little. I'm just worried about how he's doing."

"And if he's still dreaming about you," she added. Buffy scowled at her. "Why don't you call him?"

"No!" Buffy said forcefully, rolling onto her back to do some sit-ups. Willow arched her brow. "We're mortal enemies, I can't just call and ask what's what?"

"I think you passed that mortal enemy stage when you had sex with him, Buffy," Willow pointed out. "Especially ‘cuz you liked it."

"And it gave you that ooey gooey tingly feeling in your toes," she went on without pause. "That slowly goes up your legs and makes you all goofy, like Angel use to make you feel."

"Thank you for pointing that out, Will," Buffy said sarcastically, sitting up. "I so wanted to be reminded that my smoochies with Angel are less..."

"What ever happened to the time when the boys we thought about were basketball or football players, not creatures of the night or former ones?"

"Um, he loves you so much he can't live another day without you?" Willow said. Buffy gave her a look. "Or maybe he wants to know how to make borscht."

Spike stared at the microwave as the object inside started to spark. He yanked open the door and grabbed the Spaghettio's can, burning his fingers. "Ow!" he shouted as he dropped the hot metal, orange sauce and round noodles splattering everywhere.

He swung around to grab the paper towels and ended up smashing his elbow on the corner of the refrigerator handle. Unbelievable pain shot up and down his arm, bringing tears to his eyes. "Bloody fucking hell," he ground out between clenched teeth, holding his elbow.

The past two weeks had not gone well for Spike. He hurt himself more times than he could count, from stubbing his toe to paper cuts to static electric shocks, each sending pain which he had never felt before running through him. He'd taken more aspirin than recommended on the bottle and was lucky he didn't overdose. He also had to change the bed nine out of fourteen days, much to his anger. He really hated being human.

The pain started to recede and he took a deep, calming breath. Stepping over the mess, he picked up the phone and dialed the number he was exceedingly familiar with.

"Hello, Joyce," Spike said into the phone, rubbing his elbow. "How goes the world of art?"

"Hello, Spike," Joyce replied over the line, a smile in her voice as she said the second half to how they started all their conversations. "A little surreal with a bunch of still life thrown in." Spike had called her at work practically every day for a variety of reasons, usually to do with food. He had made her promise not to tell Buffy that he called, telling her that he felt like enough of an idiot without needing her daughter to know that fact. "What's on the menu for today?"

"Hell," he swore softly, slumping back against the wall. "I forgot again. Maybe I should hire a bloody cook."

"Not to worry, I whipped up a large dinner last night and I planned on sending you a care package," Joyce told him. "Complete with microwaving instructions."

He chuckled and was about to say something else when he heard knocking on the front door. "Excuse me a moment, Joyce, there's someone at the door." He put down the phone on the kitchen table, glancing at the clock to see that it was well past sunset. Putting on his ‘I'm still a big bad vampire' face, he opened the door. He recognized the minions that had gone to Brazil for him. "Hello, mates."

"Well, spit it out," Spike said, leaning against the open door, careful not to step past the invisible barrier. The vampires shifted nervously on their feet, looking at one another. Finally, one of them spoke.

"Drusilla is dead," the vampire told him quickly, holding a sealed envelope out towards the blond. "We found this at her lair. It's addressed to you."

Spike reached his hand out and took the letter from the vampire, his expression unchanging. "Are you sure?"

Spike nodded and stepped back, clutching the envelope in his hand, his eyes tracing the dark letters on it. "Thanks," he said quietly before closing the door on them.

Suddenly, his heart felt like someone reached into his chest and was crushing it. His throat tightened and a large lump formed in it. He slowly walked back into the kitchen and picked up the phone. "I'm back," he said, swallowing heavily.

"Dru-," he got out before his throat closed up. His entire chest now felt as though someone were sitting on it as his eyes began to fill with water.

Spike sucked air in through his mouth, making a high pitched squeak as his lower lip began to tremble uncontrollable. The muscles in his stomach started to quiver and he squeezed his eyes shut, his head lowering. He held the phone tightly in one hand, the letter in the other as the tears started to flow.

"Spike, dear, what's wrong?" Joyce asked concerned as she heard what sounded like him crying. "Did something happen to Drusilla?"

With the sound of her name, the dam broke. Spike started to cry deep, wracking sobs preventing him from breathing. His Princess, his Black Queen, his Ripe Wicked Plum was gone. His entire body was tense and trembling as grief overtook him.

"No," he repeated a little more firmly. He looked up at the ceiling as he calmed.

"I-I'll call you later," he said, then hung up the phone. On automation, he walked to the bedroom and sat on the edge of the bed. After a few moments, he wiped his eyes with the back of his hand, then shakily opened the envelope.

To My Spike~ The bad man made me see inside you and tell him what was the very worst thing he could do to you. I was able to tell him a fib. I told him that you could never survive as a mortal again. I hope you are not unhappy with me. I know he will make you human and you will hate it, but he will not kill the Slayer you love. Now I have to go so I can hide this before he comes back. The stars tell me that I did good. I love you, my Spike. Take care of her like you took care of me. If you see Daddy, tell him I was a good girl. And tell Miss Edith I will miss her. Am I still your Princess?

"Yeah, baby, you are," Spike whispered as he finished the letter. He curled up on the bed, clutching the paper to his chest as the tears began to fall again.

Spike didn't move until he absolutely had to, only to quickly use the restroom then return to the bed to stare up at the ceiling. His tears had stopped hours ago to be replaced by a numbness that encompassed his entire body. The phone had rang several times, but he let the machine pick it up. Each time, it was Joyce's worried voice that came over the speaker from its place on the desk.

He did not know how long he stayed like that, but eventually the tears came again. Afterwards, he managed to get up and splash cold water on his face before he picked up the phone. Looking at the digital clock display, he dialed the Summers' home number.

"Tell the Slayer it wasn't Dru," he told Joyce. "Tell her...tell her it was someone else."

"I will," he replied, then hung up the phone. Standing, he slid on his duster, picked up the letter and silently made his way out of his house.

He walked for hours, avoiding potentially dangerous areas before entering the bar he frequented. He took a seat at the counter and was poured a drink without having to ask. He slammed it back, the alcohol burning a fiery trail as he pulled the letter out of his pocket. He rubbed his fingers over the letters and felt the tears again. Squeezing his eyes shut, he forced them back, then proceeded to drink himself into oblivion.

The past few weeks had passed by in a blur for Spike. He's gotten sympathy cards from Willow, Oz, Buffy and Joyce and spoke with both Oz and Joyce numerous times, but mostly he sat and stared at nothing or cried. That morning, however, he had woken up freezing and nothing he did seemed to warm him up. His entire body shook and he had trouble focusing on anything.

He finally had to get up to use the bathroom and regretted it instantly. His knees collapsed from under him, sending him falling to the floor. Then, his stomach flip flopped and he threw up for the first time in centuries, making a mess of himself and the floor. He managed to crawl to the bathroom before he did it again, barely getting his head above the toilet. He was very glad at that moment that he never put the seat down.

Somehow, Spike had been able to stand long enough to brush his teeth and relieve himself. He had gotten back into bed wishing he would die. He wasn't able to stop trembling and the tears came and went for no reason. Each breath he took was shaky, his mouth was bone dry and he couldn't breathe through his nose. With a trembling hand, he grabbed the portable phone from the night stand and dialed.

He took another deep breath and felt his stomach turn over. "Help," he said in a teary voice. "Please?" Tears started to fall down his cheeks as he swallowed what little saliva he had in his mouth.

"I'll be there as soon as I can," Buffy said, hanging up the phone. Spike hit the disconnect button on the portable and let it fall onto the bed next to him as he curled up into a fetal position, wrapping his arms around his waist.

"Spike?" Buffy called as she, Willow and Oz entered the house after finding it unlocked. The Slayerettes had been at her house when she received Spike's call, and Oz offered to drive her down immediately. They made record time getting to LA and, using the address she'd dug out of her mom's address book, they found the house in a semi-nice area of the city.

"Nice house," Willow commented as they entered the great room. She could see a kitchen just beyond the large room, a set of stairs dividing the two with a powder room underneath them.

"Stay here," Buffy instructed, moving to the stairs. She quickly, but quietly, made her way up them and found herself in a sitting room with three doors jutting off of it, one leading to a bathroom, the second leading to a child's bedroom and the final one leading to the master suite. "Spike?"

Spike heard his name being called and he tried to focus. His body was covered with sweat, but he couldn't seem to get warm. In fact, he couldn't even move anymore. His breathing was shaky and exclusively through his mouth.

Buffy saw him curled up under the covers in the semi-dark and she cautiously crept over to the bed, wary of any attack just in case. "I'm going to turn on the light," she said, reaching over to the lamp on the night stand. She waited for an answer, and upon not receiving one, turned it on. When she saw Spike's paler than normal face, she let out a small gasp, then gently reached forward to brush his sweat soaked hair back off his forehead. "Spike, I'm here."

His forehead was burning to the touch and his skin felt slightly clammy. She crouched next to the bed so she was eye level with him, her fingers gently stroking his hair. She could see a glazed look in his eyes as they barely opened to peer at her. "Hi," she said softly. "I think someone is sick."

"Make it stop," Spike said with a shaky voice. The tears started to well in his eyes again, blurring the petite blond Slayer even more.

"Hey now, don't cry," Buffy said to him. "I'm going to find a thermometer so we can take your temperature, ok? I'll be right back." She stood and picked up the phone from the bed, turning it on and dialing as she walked. She barely avoided stepping in the mess on the carpet as she headed for the bathroom.

"Mom, he's not hurt, he's sick," Buffy said into the phone as she began searching the medicine cabinet.

"So far I've seen evidence of major yakking, he's burning up and he's all sweaty," she replied. Finding her prize, she made her way back to the bed. "Hold on, mom." Buffy put the phone down and opened the electronic thermometer. "Spike, you need to put this under your tongue, ok?"

Spike barely had the energy to do as asked, so Buffy held the instrument as she picked the phone back up. "Do you still have Dr. Clark's number?"

"Don't know," she replied, waiting for the beep. "But I better get it just in case. He's open on Saturdays if I'm remembering right."

"Yeah, hold on," Buffy said, holding the phone with her shoulder to grab the paper sitting on the night stand and the pencil that was holding her hair up. "Go ahead."

"798-4339," Joyce recited as Buffy wrote awkwardly on the paper. The thermometer beeped at her and she removed it from his mouth, holding it up so she could read the numbers.

"Call the doctor," Joyce instructed. "I'll come down as soon as I can find someone to hold down the fort here at the gallery."

"No, you don't need to. I have Oz and Willow's help. I'll call if I have questions."

"Mom, you're having that special showing this weekend. No, you stay, I can deal," Buffy told her.

Buffy disconnected, then immediately dialed the doctor's office. After receiving instructions on what to do and scheduling an emergency appointment, she hung up and looked at the former vampire. Setting the phone, paper and pen down, she reached out and gently touched his cheek. "Spike, we need to get you into a bath, ok? Then we're going to the doctor's. You're going to be better soon, I promise."

Spike licked his dry lips. "Ok," he replied in a whisper. He felt the telltale sign that he was going to heave and he started to pant. "Up, up."

Buffy immediately stood, knowing what was about to happen and helped him from the bed, practically carrying him to the bathroom. She held his forehead as he threw up in the toilet, rubbing his sweat soaked T-shirt covered back with her other hand. "Any more?" she asked quietly as he lay his cheek against the cold rim.

She stood and got a cup of water for him, then took the towel from off the shower rod and spread it out on the floor behind him. After taking the empty cup from his limp hand, she wiped his mouth with some toilet paper, then helped him to lay down on the floor. "You just stay here, ok?"

He nodded slightly, curling up again as she lay a second towel over him. Buffy wiped off the toilet, then flushed before heading out of the bathroom and back downstairs. "Guys, Spike's just a tad bit on the sick side," she told Willow and Oz, who were sitting on the couch.

"Plenty," Buffy told her. "We need to get him into a cool bath, change his sheets, clean up the floor in the bedroom and take him to the doctor's office in an hour."

Buffy smiled at her friends. "Thanks a lot, you two. Not many people would jump at the chance to take care of a sick former enemy."

Oz and Willow exchanged looks, silently communicating as couples do. "What are friends for?" Willow said.

"Besides, I like the guy," Oz added before heading off to find cleaning supplies.

Buffy frowned at Willow. "What was the looks for?" she asked as they went up the stairs.

"Oz has been talking to Spike on the phone a lot, especially since Drusilla died," Willow told her. "They're friends, in a ‘I don't see you, but you're still cool' kinda way."

"Oh," Buffy replied, finding sheets in the linen closet in the main bathroom. "Why didn't you tell me this before?"

"It never came up," Willow shrugged as she followed Buffy into the bedroom. She glanced at the floor and wrinkled her nose. "Fun."

Buffy giggled quietly. Willow started to change the sheets as Buffy dug around the dressers to find some comfy clothes for Spike to wear to the doctor's, Oz coming into the room in the middle to start working on the floor. Willow then took the dirty ones to the laundry room as the Slayer went back into the extra-large master bathroom.

She looked down at Spike lying on the floor and felt a wave of tenderness wash over her. She turned on the tap water in the tub, then returned to the bedroom to retrieve the lamp from the other night stand. Bringing it to the bathroom, she set it down in the back corner on the sink and plugged it. Turning it on, she was glad to note that it softly illuminated the room without being overly harsh, allowing her to see better than from just the light coming from the bedroom.

"Buffy, Willow and I will be downstairs if you need us," Oz said into the bathroom as he finished with the floor.

Buffy nodded and closed the bathroom door as the guitarist walked away. Turning off the tap, she knelt on the floor next to the non-moving Spike. "Spike, you need to sit up," she said softly, putting a hand on his shoulder.

Spike blinked groggily, his mind fuzzy as slowly pushed himself to a sitting position with Buffy's help. He looked over at her with bleary eyes. "I don't feel good," he told her.

Buffy's lips quirked into a smile. "I know," she said, grasping the edges of his T-shirt. "Arms up." His arms barely raised as she pulled the shirt over his head, tossing it into the corner. She put the towel that was covering him back on the shower bar, then shut the toilet seat lid and helped him to sit on it. "Spike, I'm going to get you into the bathtub, but first we need to get off these shorts, ok?"

He nodded a little, breathing slowly through his mouth as he grasped her shoulders and lifted his hips slightly. Buffy pulled the shorts off of him, trying hard not to look and stood. She put his arm around her shoulder and helped him to his feet, then into the tub. He leaned back, his eyes closed and sighed as the water warmed and cooled him at the same time.

Buffy grinned at the small, happy smile on Spike's face and grabbed a washcloth and soap. She saw that he was wearing the small, gold cross she'd given him and her smile grew. "Ready to feel better?"

Spike turned his head in her direction, looking at her under heavy lids. "You are so wonderful," he whispered. "So bloody wonderful."

"What else would I be?" Buffy teased quietly, gently washing him. She was careful not to jar him in any way, having been this sick before. She watched as his eyes drifted shut again. After a few more minutes, she called his name. "Spike, time to get out."

"Ok," he replied, pushing himself to his feet with her help. Buffy got him out of the tub and dried him off with the towel as he leaned against the sink. Then, she helped him dress before putting her arm around his waist and escorting him from the bathroom to the bed, tucking him under the clean, cool sheets. He sighed and snuggled down against the pillow, then smiled up at the Slayer who was sitting on the edge of the bed. "I feel better."

"Rest," Buffy told him, leaning down to kiss his forehead. "We'll be leaving for the doctor's in about twenty minutes, ok?"

"Love you," he mumbled in response, already drifting off before she even straightened.

Buffy grabbed the paper off the night stand with the doctor's phone number on it, then silently left the bedroom. Going downstairs, she found Oz and Willow in the kitchen doing the dishes. "We have about twenty minutes, guys," she told them as she sat at the table. She saw the letter magnets on the refrigerator and smiled.

Willow noticed what her best friend was looking at and smiled as well. "Someone has it real bad for you, Buffy."

"Since August of last year," Oz answered offhandedly. Buffy arched her brow at him and he shrugged. "We're friends."

"What about you?" Willow asked her pointedly. "Have you decided to explore the ooshy side of Spike?"

"That didn't stop him from falling in love with you," Willow said, drying another dish.

"But you can't have Angel," Willow stated. "Not in the all important having way. Plus, you said it yourself, you don't get that tingly feeling with him anymore. Maybe your love for him changed."

Buffy sighed. "You sound just like him," she said. "We had this whole I still love you, but it's ok to move on to someone else talk. However, I don't think he had Spike in mind."

"Well, we're graduating soon," Willow said. "Then you'll be down here for the summer with your dad. Which means..."

"Which means I can get to know Spike, yada, yada, yada," Buffy finished. She shook her head and stood. "I'm going to hit the ladies, then we should probably get going." The couple nodded and she went around the stairs to the powder room beneath them.

Closing the door behind her, she leaned back against it and closed her eyes. "Come on, Buffy. Second time's the charm, right?" she asked herself as she pulled a foil wrapped item from the inner pocket of her coat. A few minutes later, the Slayer swore for the second time since she woke up that morning as stared at the little blue line. She wasn't sure before, but she there was no mistake now.

"That's it, we're almost there," Buffy said as she led Spike into the doctor's office. The weak and pale former vampire leaned heavily on her as they walked, Willow assisting by getting the doors as Oz went to park the van.

After settling Spike into a chair, the two girls went to the nurses station to check in and fill out any paperwork. The medical questionnaire was a hoot to them, seeing as how he had only been human for six weeks. They basically put none to every question and named him Spike Williams. No insurance information was necessary since they were paying with the cash Buffy had found in his wallet.

The nurse called Spike's name, and Buffy half-carried him to a room, stripping off his duster and helping him up on the examining table. Groaning, he put his arm over his eyes as he laid back on the white paper, the other over his stomach after the nurse took his temperature and blood pressure. Buffy sat in the provided chair, coat across her lap and flipped through a very old magazine.

"Hello, Buffy," Dr. Clark greeted as he came into the room with a chart. "It's been awhile since I last saw you."

"Hi, Dr. Clark," Buffy returned the greeting. "What can I say, I've been healthy as a horse."

Dr. Clark smiled at her, then looked down at the chart. "It looks like your friend Spike is rather sick."

"That he most definitely is," she replied, standing and walking to Spike's side. "Spike, the doctor is here," she said quietly, touching his arm.

"Tell him to kill me," Spike said weakly, causing the two in the room to chuckle.

"You don't have to sit up, Spike," Dr. Clark said as he put the stethoscope in his ears. Buffy moved back to her chair as the examination began. After several minutes, the doctor started making notes in the chart. "He's going to need some blood work done and I'm going to prescribe Penicillin for now."

"That's the pink stuff," Dr. Clark replied with a smile. "One tablespoon three times a day until empty or otherwise notified." He ripped off the prescription from the pad, handing it to her with the lab sheets. "Take him around the corner to the lab for these tests. Your friend should feel better once the medicine takes effect. Until then, plenty of bed rest and liquids. And see if he can eat something, like crackers, toast, Jell-o or even soup."

"Thanks," Buffy said. The doctor nodded and left. Standing, the Slayer went over to Spike again. "Spike, time to move again."

Buffy chuckled. "Yes. You have to get some blood tests done, then we can get you home and to bed again."

"I like B positive," he muttered as he slowly sat up. With Buffy's help, they made there way to the lab. Luckily, there was no waiting and she was able to sit him right in the drawing table. He frowned at the technician who pushed up his sleeve and tied a rubber hose around his arm. "What are you doing?"

Spike watched wide eyed as the technician wiped his inner elbow with alcohol, then hold up a needle. When he stuck it in the peroxide blond's vein, Spike flinched. "Ouch! That bloody hurts, you wanker."

"Sorry, sir," the technician said, changing the test tube on the end of the needle. "Doctor's orders."

Spike turned to Buffy, who shook her head in affirmation. "I hate being human," he hissed at her, his stomach becoming queasy.

"I know," she said, putting her hand on his other arm. "You're almost done. Then we'll go home."

Spike managed not to heave and was now tucked back into bed, glass of ginger ale with a straw next to him on the night stand. The couple went out to get his prescription and a few other things while Buffy made him some toast and jelly. "Here," she said, sitting on the edge of the bed with a paper plate. She tucked a napkin in the collar of his shirt, then spread it over his chest. "See if you can get this down."

"Thanks," Spike replied, picking up a piece of toast and biting into it. The grape jelly on the bread tasted delicious and went down easily. He chewed slowly while looking at her thoughtfully. "Why are you being so good to me?"

Buffy gave him a small smile and a shrug. "You asked for help, I'm helping," she replied.

"It's hard to be mortal enemies when one half of the two mortal enemies is in love with the other half," she said, giving him a pointed look.

Spike started to blush, bringing color to his excessively pale cheeks. "Yeah, right. Who told you that?"

"Your refrigerator," Buffy replied with a grin. He looked down at the toast on the plate in his lap. "You also talk in your sleep."

Spike looked everywhere but at her, his embarrassment overriding his feeling of sickness. He had never wanted her to find out, even made Oz promise not to say anything to Willow. She loved Angel, not him, and he didn't want to have her knowing because that would make it worse having her choose his sire over him. "Um, you weren't suppose to know about that."

"No, the-the...bloody hell," he said, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. His stomach churned at the action. He swallowed heavily, feeling nauseous. He bit his lower lip, trying to force the feeling away. It didn't work.

His hand flew up to his mouth and he gave her a wide-eyed look, his face becoming deathly white. Shoving the covers and plate off his lap, he shot to his feet as Buffy moved out of the way, sprinting to the bathroom. She was right behind him as he lost what little he had in his stomach, holding his forehead and rubbing his back as she did earlier that day.

Breathing heavily over the toilet water, Spike felt the tears start again. Being sick was worse than feeling the bloodlust after nights of not feeding when he was still a vampire. For a moment, he cursed Drusilla for doing this to him, then grief washed over him about her death and what she had done for him, and he started to cry for real.

"Hey, it's ok," Buffy said, still rubbing his back. "Oz and Willow will be back with the medicine soon."

His sobs only grew, making him dry heave. He sucked in huge gulps of air, hiccuping and making a slight squeaking sound through his closed throat. He then felt himself being pulled against Buffy, who was kneeling at his side. She wrapped one arm around his shoulders, the other held his head to her chest as she murmured comforting words.

Spike didn't know how long they stayed like that before the tears ran out, leaving him feeling like he had no energy in his entire body. Willow and Oz must have returned because Buffy was talking to someone above his head.

"Thanks," Buffy said. "If you could call Giles, that would be great." Willow nodded before leaving the bathroom. She looked down at the top of Spike's blond head. "Are you ok?" she asked quietly.

Spike pulled away from her, wiping his face with the back of his sleeve. "This is bloody embarrassing."

"Do, too," she replied. "Only thing is, I get to kill things while I'm sick. You only have to get better." She stood and picked up the washcloth she used earlier, wetting it with cool water. Putting the toilet lid down, she helped him onto it then began gently wiping his face with the cloth. "Feel good?"

Spike nodded. She finished up, then gave him his toothbrush, helping him stand by the sink. When he finished, she gave him a modicum of privacy as he went to the bathroom, then assisted him back to bed. She picked up the pink bottle of medicine on the night stand, measuring out a tablespoon in the cup provided and handing it to him. "The pink stuff tastes good," she commented as he quaffed it.

Standing, she pulled the covers up to his chin, then leaned down and kissed him on the forehead. "Get some sleep," Buffy said softly, her eyes tender. "If you need me, just ring the bell on the night stand. I'll be up in a little while to check on you."

She picked up the Penicillin and small cup, then switched off the lamp, leaving the only illumination coming from the lamp she put in the bathroom earlier. She was almost out the door when he spoke. "Slayer?"

"Get better, Spike. It's no fun to tease you when you're sick," she replied. She gave him a small smile, then left the room.

After putting the Penicillin in the fridge, Buffy joined the couple on the couch in front of the television. Oz leaned forward and picked a plastic bag off the floor and handed it to her. "What's this?"

"We figured we were staying overnight," Willow explained. "So we picked up some clothes and stuff for you and me while we were out. Oz had a change of clothes in the van."

"Spike told me once the couch in the upstairs sitting room folds out," Oz said. "And there's a trundle bed in the small bedroom."

"We know," Willow replied. "But we want to. Plus, we get to play in this cool house."

Buffy looked around the large room, taking in the large entertainment center, shelves upon shelves of books, movies and CDs lining the surrounding walls. Two overstuffed couches, end tables, a coffee table and a rocking chair sat in front of the entertainment center. Plants, freestanding lamps and artwork decorated the great room. The several windows in the room were boarded over from the inside and a baby grand piano was sitting in front of black spray painted French doors. In one corner, she saw a toy chest with a wooden rocking horse near it. "I don't want to know how he got this house," she commented, thinking about the children's room she saw upstairs.

"He bought it for a hundred bucks," Oz said. Buffy looked at him as if he had grown two heads. "He met a guy in a bar whose wife and kid died in a car accident. The guy wanted to escape, but couldn't because of all the bills and the house, so Spike bought it from him and agreed to pay off all of his debts. I guess the two of them passed out here and when Spike got up the next night, the dude was gone only taking his clothes and photos."

"You're kidding," Buffy said. Oz shook his head no. "How in the world does he pay for it then, the bills and the mortgage and electricity and whatever else?"

"He's a hacker," Willow answered with a grin and an excited bounce. "He's way better than me, too."

"No," Oz replied. "What he did was ingenious, actually. He picked several overly large companies that make electronic business transactions daily, then routed one cent from random deposits to his own accounts set up all over the world."

"Multiply that one cent by the number of deposits made per day, then by the number of companies," Willow explained. "He's making close to $100,000 a day! I can't wait to go downstairs and check out his computer."

Buffy's mouth dropped open. "Wow." A loud knock sounded on the door, making her jump. Oz rose to his feet and ambled to it.

"Pizza's here," Willow told her, standing as well to go to the kitchen to get napkins and drinks.

Oz returned with the pizza and set it on the coffee table, then joined Willow on the second couch. "Dig in," he instructed, opening the box.

After a few minutes of eating, Buffy looked thoughtfully at her friends. "You guys seem to know an awful lot about Spike."

"He called to ask a question and we got to talking," Oz answered Buffy. "He's cool."

"I promised Oz I wouldn't," Willow told her. "Spike's kind of a private person."

"You know that he loves you," Oz replied. "And his refrigerator seems to, as well."

Willow tittered and Buffy rolled her eyes. "Why would it be a big secret if you already knew because Willow knew that I knew that he loved me and boy that was a mouthful," Buffy said to Oz.

"I'm going to help Spike get better, then get to know him better," Buffy replied, taking a bite.

Willow and Oz had disappeared into the basement to play with Spike's computer and the Slayer prowled around the house a few hours later. Buffy had gone to check up on the sick former vampire to find him sleeping peacefully, then cleaned up the remnants of dinner. Now she was standing in the smaller bedroom that had been set up for a child.

Her eyes lit on the toys in the room, the teddy bear wallpaper, the little table and chairs. The man who owned the house must have had a little girl because of the princess costume she'd found in the closet, the rest of the clothes being boxed up and on the floor in the large walk-in.

Buffy sat on the edge of the bed, her heart sad from the loss the man must have felt. Then, she lifted up her tank top and looked down at her belly. Growing in her womb was a child who would one day have a room like this. She put her hand over her lower abdomen, thinking about the tiny life inside of her. Her baby. Spike's baby.

Smiling softly, she stood and walked to the master bedroom. Spike lay on his stomach, the covers having been kicked down to his waist, the T-shirt he was wearing bunched under him. Buffy went over to the bed and sat, gently smoothing his sleep-tussled hair back from his forehead. She studied his peaceful features and thought back to the times she'd interacted with him the year before.

From the moment she had seen him in the school, she had known she'd met her match. He was as strong as her, if not more so, witty, sarcastic and full of life. She giggled quietly as she remembered how he told her he messed up her doilies. Then she recalled the look of panic and fear in his eyes when she held a stake to Drusilla's heart. The love he had for the vampiress had been true and real, making her doubt that vampires did not have souls.

Then came the day he asked for her help. To save the world and his princess. Granted, his motives were not sterling, but the fact he had come to his mortal enemy spake of his conviction to stopping Angel and his love of Drusilla. Buffy remembered feeling the tension walking back to her house with him, as if something was under her skin, itching to get out. At the time, she thought it was because what she really wanted to do was kill him. Now, she was not so sure.

Buffy had to admit that she did think of Spike every once in awhile after she had run away, then returned to Sunnydale. She wondered if he and Drusilla were the happy couple once more, if he did indeed leave the country as promised, if he knew of the sacrifice she made to save this world and his love.

Then he appeared drunk and heartbroken back in Sunnydale. He was pathetic and annoying and utterly infuriating. However, he spoke the truth about her and Angel, that they would love each other until they died, but could never be just friends. And he was right, she would always love Angel, she could just no longer be in love with him. Just like Spike would always love Drusilla, even though he now loved her.

Her mind lit upon something Oz told her earlier and she frowned. "August? But that would be before he came back hurting over Drusilla," she said to herself. Then she thought about what Willow had said about the Chaos Demon and the vampiress, and pieced together that perhaps Drusilla had turned to someone else because Spike had done so, whether he knew it or not.

Spike muttered something unintelligible in his sleep, shaking her from her memories. Buffy lightly traced his scar with her finger. "I guess you're dreams weren't that far off," she whispered. He stirred slightly and she stood, quickly leaving the room. She sat down on the couch in the sitting room, curling her feet under her and looking at the boarded up window.

*What am I going to do?* Buffy thought, one hand rubbing her lower abdomen gently. *Who ever heard of a pregnant Slayer? And what do I tell Spike? Or Angel? I don't think ‘hi honey, I got knocked up by the vampire turned human you loathe. Yes, I know you have to have sex to get pregnant.' I can see that going over well.*

She sighed, laying her head down on her arm. *Maybe I just won't say anything until I absolutely have to. My luck, I'll lose the child anyway from my slaying duties.* With that depressing thought, the Slayer drifted off to sleep.

Buffy woke when she heard Willow and Oz come up the stairs. "Hey, guys," she greeted groggily. "What time is it?"

"Ten," Willow answered. "We came up to get the beds ready." She frowned, not completely awake yet. "Beds? Sleeping? You know, that thing you do when you're tired?"

"Sleeping, got it," Buffy replied, swinging to her feet, then stopping. "Um, where are we doing this sleeping thing?"

"Will and I will take the kids's room, you can have the couch out here," Oz said. "It folds out. Still."

"Oh, right, you told me that already," Buffy said. "I'm gonna...go...and, uh, get Spike's medicine."

As she went down the stairs, Willow and Oz looked at each other. "What's up with Buffy?"

"I don't know," Willow replied. "Maybe she's been having serious thoughts. Sometimes that happens."

Buffy stared into the refrigerator, her mind a million miles away. She had been dreaming so vividly and it was distressing. It could have been a portent or just a nightmare. She was hoping it was the latter.

The images of the dream played out in her mind. Some man she'd never seen before going after Spike. Her shoving Spike out of the way, taking the knife that was intended for him. The pain and fear that she felt as she had curled into a ball, her arms wrapped around her swollen middle. Her telling Spike that she loved him, then everything going dark.

She was shaken out of her thoughts by the sudden hum of the refrigerator as the motor went on. Taking a deep breath, she grabbed the Penicillin then went back upstairs. "Spike," she said quietly, sitting on the edge of the bed while switching on the lamp. "Time to take your medicine."

Opening the bottle, she poured the pink liquid into the measuring cup, then set it on the night stand, accidentally knocking a book to the floor. Buffy ignored it for the moment and gently rubbed Spike's back, trying to wake him. "Spike, you need to wake up and take this."

"Mmpph," Spike moaned into the pillow, barely opening his eyes. His head felt as though it was detached from his body and everything was functioning really slow. "Buffy?"

"Hey," she said, still rubbing his back. "We need to get this medicine in you, ok?"

He sighed heavily as he turned over, the sheets and his shirt twisting around his body. "This is no fun," he mumbled as he slowly pushed himself into a semi-sitting position.

"I imagine it's not," Buffy told him, sliding the pillow behind him as he pushed himself up. She handed him the medicine. "Bottoms up."

Spike gave her a look which consisted little more than letting his head loll towards her, accepting the cup. He quickly downed the pink stuff, then handed it back to her. "That'll make me feel better soon, right?"

"Right," she grinned at the hopefulness in his voice. "It'll take a few days, though."

Buffy's smile grew and she bent to get the book from the floor. "I think I lost your place," she said, picking up the book and the piece of paper that was acting as a bookmark. She turned it over in her hand. ‘To My Spike.' "What's this?"

Her eyes widened as she read the letter, then she quickly stuck it in the book. "What? Oh, nothing." She put the book back on the night stand, then gave him a fake grin. "So, uh, how are you feeling?"

"So I gathered," he replied. He grabbed the bottom of his shirt and tried to twist it back into place.

"Here," she said, taking the hem of his shirt. He arched up on his elbows, allowing her to straighten it out, then lightly patted his stomach. "There you go. All fixed."

"Well, I'll let you get back to sleep," she said, straightening the rest of the sheets as she stood.

"No, don't," he stopped her, putting his hand on her arm. "Would you...stay. For just a bit. We can do that talking thing humans are so good at."

Buffy looked at the hopeful expression on his face and smiled genuinely, sitting back down on the bed with one leg tucked under her. "I can do that. In fact, talking is something I excel at, just ask my teachers."

Spike chuckled quietly. There was a knock on the open door and they both looked over to see Willow and Oz standing there. "Can we come in?" Willow asked. He nodded and the two came around to the other side of the bed and took a seat, the werewolf pulling the desk chair up to the side.

"Before I forget," Willow began. "You have a really cool computer. Wow, think of all the stuff I could do if I had that setup."

"Actually, that's kind of a scary thought," Oz joked. Willow wrinkled her nose at him.

"That's right, " Buffy said, looking at Spike. "I heard you were quite the hacker."

"And cracking codes or breaking into top secret government files is always a fun challenge," Willow said. "Well, at least, it is for me."

"That's my juvenile delinquent," Oz said, squeezing her hand. "Although soon you won't be."

"Eighteen," Willow sighed. "I can't wait. I get to vote and-and do other stuff that legal adults can do."

"Luckily you're not me, or I'd tell you to try and avoid your birthday," Buffy said.

"Buffy doesn't have very happy birthdays," Willow answered for the Slayer. "Things tend to go really bad for her."

"Not that bad," Buffy said. Willow and Oz looked at her. "Ok, so I haven't had the best past three birthdays, but all the ones before that were good."

"Let's see, for my sixteenth birthday I failed the driving test," Buffy said. "Well, I didn't even get to do the driving part."

"And on your seventeenth birthday, your surprise party was ruined by the Judge's arm," Willow continued. She turned to Oz. "That's the night you found out vampires existed."

"Yes, I seem to recall that," Oz said. "I also seem to recall that was the night our friendly neighborhood vampire became not so friendly."

Spike's eyes widened as he pieced together events in his mind from the year before. "You mean the great poofini lost his soul on your birthday?"

Buffy picked at an invisible thread on her knee. "Great gift, huh?" She looked up and glowered at him. "Of course, if someone hadn't been trying to rid the world of humanity, it wouldn't have happened."

Spike had the sense to look ashamed, but Willow came to his defense. "It still probably would have happened, Buffy," she said. "Just not necessarily on your birthday. You two were moving in that direction, remember? Carpe diem?"

Buffy sighed. "I know. And I've blamed myself enough for what happened. But, that's in the past and...it's in the past." She made a face. "Moving on to this year's fiasco."

"Buffy lost her super Slayer strength," Willow replied. "Well, not lost really. Just...misplaced."

Spike arched his eyebrow at Buffy, waiting for the story. "The pompous assess that make up the Watcher's Council have a test for Slayers when they turn eighteen. They take away what makes us the Chosen few, lock us in a house with some big, scary monster and say good luck."

"But Buffy is one tough cookie," Willow said. "Like the ones they serve in the cafeteria."

"I don't think you're going anywhere, cowboy," Buffy said with a grin. "But thanks for the offer."

"Pillocks," Spike scowled. He closed his eyes as a wave of sickness washed over him, swallowing heavily.

"Want me to take you to the bathroom?" Buffy asked, noting his actions. He was going to say no, then thought better of it and nodded.

"We'll get out of your hair," Willow said, standing as Buffy helped Spike out of bed. "See you in the morning."

"‘Night Will, night Oz," Buffy replied. The couple left the bedroom as she led Spike slowly to the bathroom. The light from the small lamp was still glowing in the large room, and she had him lean against the sink as she laid the towel out on the floor again. "My mom use to do this for me," she said as she helped him onto the floor. "It was weird, but I always felt better laying on the bathroom floor when my stomach hurt."

Spike didn't reply, feeling nauseous. He sat in front of the toilet and rested his forehead on the rim. After a few minutes, the feeling went away and he laid down, the softness of the towel rubbing against his cheek. He closed his eyes and cursed having a human body.

"Spike, do you want me to stay?" Buffy asked quietly, sitting on her heels as she knelt by his head.

"Ok," she said, changing her position so she was leaning up against the wall to the large bathtub. She listened as his breathing slowed shortly thereafter, evening out as he drifted back to sleep. As she did earlier, she lifted her shirt up, rolling it to expose her stomach, then unbuttoned her jeans. She laid one hand over the non-existent swell of her abdomen, trying to imagine a baby with bright, blue eyes. She smiled to herself as she looked over at Spike's sleeping form. "That's your daddy. He's a royal pain and was your mommy's enemy, but now he's your mommy's friend. Sort of. But maybe one day he'll be more."

Spike turned over in his sleep so he was now facing her and she let her eyes trace over his features. He snuggled against the towel, his hands coming to rest up near his face. She felt the wave of tenderness wash over her again. "Maybe one day he'll be more."

Spike came awake slowly, not too aware of his surroundings other than the fact that he wasn't in his bed. Opening his eyes, the first thing he focused on was Buffy laying a few feet from him by the tub wall, hand on her exposed stomach, sound asleep. He smiled at the sight, love bubbling up inside him rather than sickness. Pushing himself up into a sitting position, he rubbed a weary hand over his face, glad that he was feeling slightly better than he did the day before.

Loathing to wake Buffy after all she'd done for him, he shakily stood, grabbed his toothbrush and made his way out of the master bath and bedroom to the other bathroom. When he came out, he saw Oz standing there waiting, looking sleep tussled.

"Morning," Oz said, entering the bathroom after Spike vacated and closing the door behind him.

"Morning, Spike," Willow greeted, coming out of the other bedroom before he could take two steps. "How are you feeling?"

"Better than yesterday," he replied. He frowned at her. "I didn't know you were going to stay overnight."

"You were in no condition to take care of yourself," Willow told him. "Probably still aren't. But you don't look as ghostly today. Not that you weren't pale before, what with your lack of sunshine for two centuries. But you were definitely white yesterday. Hungry?"

"Ok. You get back into bed where you belong," she said, giving him a friendly push towards the master bedroom. "I'll bring it and your medicine up"

"Yes, Nurse Willow," he replied in a little boy voice. Willow made a face at him, then went downstairs. He chuckled out loud this time and made his way back to his room. He paused as he put his toothbrush away, looking down at the sleeping Slayer. *That can't be comfortable,* he thought after a minute of just enjoying her beauty. Crouching, he tentatively reached his hand out to her bare skin, running his fingers lightly over it. "Slayer?"

Spike grinned. "Slayer, I think you want to get up before you get a crick in your neck."

"What?" Spike said, arching his brow. *She must be dreaming,* he thought, still rubbing her side in an attempts to wake her. *I wonder who she's talking to in the dream?* With the second thought, his eyes lit up. "Buffy, pet, who are you talking to?"

"Hmm?" Buffy replied, coming awake. She wondered briefly why her bed was so hard, then she remembered she was at Spike's house, in particular the master bathroom. She felt a hand running slowly up and down her side and knew immediately who it was attached to by the comfortable tingling on her skin. "Morning, Spike. Did you ask me something?"

"How did you know it was me?" Spike asked, disappointed that he didn't get to find out who she was dreaming about.

"Talent," she replied, pushing herself to a sitting position and tugging her shirt down. "What are you doing up and about? You're sick. You should be in bed."

"That's where I was going, luv," he said. "But I thought you'd be a happier Slayer if you didn't have a sore neck."

"You're right," Buffy said, rising to her feet as Spike did the same. "There's nothing scarier than a cranky Slayer."

"Except a cranky Witch," Willow said from the bathroom door, box of crackers and Penicillin in hand. She looked at Spike. "You. Bed."

"I'm going," he grumbled, making the two girls laugh. "This being sick thing is for the bloody birds."

Buffy took the thermometer out of the cabinet, then trailed Willow to the bedside as Spike climbed in. The red head set the items in her hand on the night stand. "I'm going downstairs to whip us up some breakfast," she told Buffy. "Want anything in particular?"

Buffy shook her head, then turned her attention to Spike. "Open," she instructed, holding up the thermometer. She stuck it under his tongue, then went about measuring the Penicillin. "I don't know what time we're leaving tonight, but you need to know that you take this much three times a day until it's all gone."

Spike nodded, not speaking because of the object in his mouth. Buffy continued, "The doctor's office should call here on Monday with the results of your blood tests. They'll let you know if you need to be on any other medication. Willow and Oz got your prescription filled at Walgreens over on Eighth Street, Mr. Spike Williams."

The thermometer beeped, and she removed it from his mouth, handing him the cup at the same time. "Mr. Spike Williams?" Spike said with an arch of his brow.

"We didn't know what to put on the medical forms, so we named you that," Buffy explained. "Looks like you're fever has gone way down."

"Measuring your body temperature," Buffy answered. "You had almost a 104 degree fever yesterday and that's not a good thing."

"A little over 100," she replied. "Still sick, but not overly so. And if you ever get sick again, normal is around 98.6 degrees."

"I thought that was a song," Spike said, grabbing the box of crackers and opening it.

"98.6," he replied. At her confused look, he sang a few lyrics. "It's 98.6 and I know what your feeling, baby."

"You sing good, even when you're sick," Buffy said before she could stop herself. She blushed slightly, then stood. "I'm gonna...go and uh, get cleaned up. For breakfast."

"Come back later and keep me company?" Spike asked, picking up the book from the night stand.

"Sure," she replied. "Maybe we'll dig out some cards and play a few hands with Willow and Oz."

"Do I ever," Spike replied quietly. Then he grinned at the images in his mind and opened the book, settling back on the pillows to read.

The four friends played cards for several hours, Spike winning most of the time, until Buffy got fed up and threw the deck at him on her deal. Then they made the former vampire take a nap while the trio went downstairs to watch some television and eat a late lunch. Buffy called her mom to update her on Spike's illness, then had to let her talk to him herself.

"Do you think you're going to be ok?" Buffy asked, sitting once again on the edge of the bed, saying goodbye.

"I'll live," Spike replied, then grinned. "Didn't think I'd ever hear myself say that."

"Yes, it is," Spike insisted. "I don't know anyone who would have taken the time to care about an ex-enemy like you and your chums."

"They're your friends, too, Spike," Buffy told him. "Don't be surprised if after graduation you suddenly find yourself with a houseful of guests."

A smile stretched across Buffy's face. "Including me. But I'll be down here anyway for the summer with my dad."

"Sounds like a plan," she replied. She stood and gave his had a squeeze. "Get better."

"I'm only your favorite Slayer ‘cuz you love me," Buffy teased. Spike blushed bright red. "I'll be careful and leave now before you match Willow's hair."

With a smile, she bent and gave him a quick kiss on the lips, surprising him. "Bye, Spike," she said, then turned and went out the door.

He slowly smiled, bringing his fingers up to touch his lips while they were still burning from her kiss.

Angel sat outside Buffy's bedroom window, waiting for her to get home. He had some information for her about another ‘new power' arising in Sunnydale, which was the norm for the small suburb in California. Scanning the street from his perch, he looked both for her and for any trouble. He heard something coming from her room and he turned back to the window. Buffy was standing in front of her closet in only a towel. He went to tap on the window when she dropped said towel and stood in front of the mirror mounted on the inside of the closet door. He knew immediately he should leave or at least turn his head, but this was his goddess, his forbidden fruit, and he was not strong enough of a man for that. He watched as she turned one way, then the other, examining her body in the mirror. She then did something very odd, pushing her stomach out as far as she could and arching forward. It almost looked as though she were seeing what she would look like if she were pregnant. He frowned, shifting uncomfortably because of the tightness of his pants over his arousal. As she slipped on a extra large T-shirt, he jumped off the roof to take a walk and calm down before he talked to her.

Buffy sighed and sat down at her desk, tucking one leg under her as she pulled out her diary and a pen. Tucking her damp hair behind her ear, she uncapped the pen and flipped to a blank page.

My life is a soap opera. I fall in love, we make love, he becomes a psycho, I kill him, he returns from the dead, I still love him, his ‘childe' comes back and we have sex, now I'm pregnant. I think I saw this episode on All My Children.

Pregnant. With child. Expecting. Simple words that mean life changing events. And it's happening to me. God, I don't know how I feel about this. I just confirmed that I was pregnant by the second test this weekend, and it's been over two months since my last period, over two months since Spike...

I feel like I'm in a dream and any moment I'll wake up. But will I be relieved or disappointed if it is a dream? One minute, I'm like wow, a baby. The next, I want it to not be true, for it to just disappear and that maybe if I wish hard enough, the baby will be magickally gone. Back and forth, back and forth. I don't like it.

But when it's quiet, when I'm looking down at my not-yet-swollen abdomen, my heart swells with love and pride and tenderness. I touch myself and I can almost feel the baby growing in me. My baby. Spike's baby.

Spike. What am I going to do about him? He doesn't even know we had sex, let alone that I got pregnant. And it was only one time. That's all it took. I can't believe my mother was right. She's going to have major ‘I told you so' syndrome when I tell her. If I tell her. Maybe I'll just get an abortion. God, what am I going to do? I am so confused.

I wonder if there have ever been any pregnant Slayers before. I know they usually die young, but maybe, just once, one of my predecessors had a child. What did she do? Did she still slay while pregnant? Did it make her fight harder or make her weaker? I could find this information out if I ask, but not Wesley. Definitely not Wesley. Giles would know, but would he be disappointed in me? Would he look at me like he did when he found I didn't tell him Angel had returned? It hurt so much. Giles means everything to me, just like my mom. I don't think I'd survive without him and not just because he was my Watcher.

I am so screwed up. I'm glad I haven't been sick, yet. I've heard that morning sickness is a bitch. I am so not looking forward to that. Luckily, I won't start showing until after I graduate. Can you imagine the looks I'd get at school? They think I'm freaky enough as it is.

God, I'm only eighteen. I have no job, no job skills, no money. I couldn't live off my mom forever. And what about college? I got those awesome SAT scores letting me choose anywhere I want to go to school and do something other than just be the Slayer. Plus, I can get all sorts of scholarships, too. My mom works too hard as it is to support us, I don't want to disappoint her. I am going to disappoint her anyway when I tell her, just like Giles and dad and my friends and Wesley (although I don't care too much about his opinion).

Angel. What about him? He's going to be so hurt. We both know we can no longer be together, but still, for me to get pregnant now of all times? That's like saying I was lying when I told him I still loved him. But he's the one who would support me no matter what decision I made, he would be the one to tell me what to do. What should I do, Angel?

Buffy up from her writing and over at the window to see Angel crouching there. "Speak of the devil," she said to herself as she closed her diary and went to open the window. "Hi."

"Hi," Angel greeted, entering the bedroom. He studied her sad face and reached his hand out to brush a stray hair behind her ear. "What's wrong?"

"Oh, Angel," Buffy said, wrapping her arms around him and laying her head on his chest. "I don't know what to do." She began to cry.

"Shh," he comforted, holding her. "Whatever it is, I'll help you. You know that."

Buffy forced herself to calm down and stepped away from him, wiping the tears from her face. "You better sit down," she told him.

Dread settled over him as he took a seat on the edge of the bed. "What is it, Buffy?"

"Oh," Angel said, feeling as though someone punched him in the gut. "Are you sure?"

"It's...some guy. One night stand," she partially lied, deciding not to tell him. And it was only one night. "Faith's influence."

Angel nodded, not sure if he believed her or not. But he had seen how she had acted before the Deputy Mayor had been killed, so it was a possibility. "Have you told your mother, yet?"

"No, you're the first," Buffy replied. "I don't know if I want to tell her or not. Or even if I want to have the baby. Is that wrong? God, I wish this was all just a nightmare and I would wake up already."

"You have to tell her, Buffy," Angel said, grabbing her hand and pulling her over to him. He pick up the other hand and held both loosely in his. "Rupert, too."

"Buffy, if you do or don't decide to have the baby, you're going to need their support," he told her. "You'll always have mine."

"Thanks," she said, giving him a depressed smile. "I really needed to hear that."

"Can't. She went down to LA to pick up a new shipment and to check on Spike," Buffy replied. *Spike. Spike's baby. Ugh. What am I going to do?*

Buffy looked at him pleadingly, but she knew he wouldn't budge. With a heavy sigh, she slid on a pair of jeans under the shirt she was wearing. "I so am not looking forward to this."

"If it's any consolation, you aren't the first Slayer who's been pregnant," he told her.

"Really? I was wondering about that," she said, putting on her shoes. "What happened with her?"

"The ones that I know about...died before they could deliver or lost the baby," Angel answered her quietly.

"Oh," Buffy replied, a horrible feeling of pain and sadness in her heart. She put her hand over her abdomen protectively while a voice in the back of her mind screamed NO!

She nodded and followed him out of the house. They walked in silence down the tree lined streets as they headed for Giles' house. Buffy's mind was racing with what Angel had told her and the feelings the news evoked. As they walked down the stairs to her former Watcher's front door, she realized that she didn't want to lose the baby. She wanted it to be her choice, a choice that was already leaning towards her having the child.

Angel knocked on the door, then went to stand behind the Slayer. Giles opened the door, one of his many books in hand and gave them both a puzzled and worried look. "What's wrong?"

"Of-of course," Giles replied, stepping aside to let them pass. Angel stayed off to one side as Buffy nervously wrung her hands as she stood in front of the couch. He looked first at the vampire, then at Buffy, noting their tense expressions.

"Giles, I'm pregnant," Buffy suddenly blurt out. "I'm so sorry, I never meant to get pregnant. It was an accident. One time. And now I'm pregnant. With a baby."

"I would assume with a-a baby," Giles said, not believing his ears. He looked over at Angel again, who nodded in affirmation. "Is-is-is-do-do you know the father?"

"I do, but he doesn't know," she replied, sinking down onto the couch. "I can't believe this."

"I am leaning towards the unbelievable, as well," Giles told her, removing his glasses to rub his eyes.

"Do I what?" Giles asked, giving her an incredulous look. "Buffy, I could never hate you. This is-is a bit of discerning news, but you have my unequivocal support. You are not the first Slayer to become, er...preg-pregnant."

"That's what Angel said," Buffy replied. "He also said that those girls died or the baby died."

"W-Well, yes," he stammered. "But you are the most unconventional Slayer recorded. You have a support system that none of the others had, plus there are two Slayers now. Although Faith is-is not overly reliable. But I have no doubt that if you decided to have the child, you would."

"Thanks, Giles," Buffy said, standing and giving him a rare hug. "So, what do I do now?"

"That is up to you, Buffy," Giles said. "You must first decide if you are going to have the baby, then we will adjust your duties as necessary."

"Don't worry about that pil-...him," he replied. "Watcher training does include the issue of pregnancy."

"Ok," she said. "Well, I guess I'll go back home now. I have lots of thinking to do."

"I will see you at school tomorrow," Giles said, escorting the former couple to the door.

A short while later, Angel dropped her at her house, then went on his way. The Slayer went up to her room and laid on her bed, her arms wrapped protectively around her. "What am I going to do?"

Angel crouched in front of the fireplace at the mansion, staring sightlessly into the flames. He still couldn't comprehend the fact that Buffy was pregnant. His Buffy. And he didn't even know by who, so that he could go out and pummel him for touching her.

He knew that his thoughts were irrational seeing as he was the one who insisted she'd move on. He just hadn't expected her to move on so soon. It hurt. A lot. He felt as though his heart was being torn into little pieces by a demon's claw.

Now his job of protecting her was going to become tenfold, for he was not only protecting the woman he loved, but her child as well. Angel had no doubt she would have the baby. She had learned how short life was and wanted to experience everything before she died, including being a mother, whether she realized it yet or not. He also knew that if she died, all her friends, including him, would ensure that her child would be loved and protected and knew how truly wonderful his or her mom had been.

Angel sighed and stood, heading for his bedroom. His thoughts turned to the father of Buffy's child once more. *As long as it isn't Xander....*

Spike hummed under his breath to the music blaring on his stereo. Bent over a large piece of paper on the coffee table, he added several more precisely placed dots with his black, felt-tip pen. Three weeks had gone by since he'd gotten ill and, except for the actual sickness part, he was beginning to enjoy being human. Being able to go out at anytime was wonderful, as was some of the food he had found. He especially liked ice creme sandwiches, although the chocolate cookie part tended to get stuck in his teeth.

He had thoroughly adjusted to being awake during the day. Not that he hadn't been up during the day when he was still a vampire. Back then he usually was able to sleep for no more than two to three hours beside Drusilla before he'd be up and pacing around, bored out of his skull. Which was one of the reasons why he was so adept at many things - playing the piano, the guitar, hacking, drawing, speaking and reading several different languages and dancing, although that had usually been done with Dru. His love of music and reading also led him to unconsciously memorize most of what he read or heard.

Most of the pictures he had drawn had been left behind when they had fled Prague. The others burned in the fire at the factory and he hadn't drawn any new ones when Angelus had been living with them. All his daytime hours had been spent building back the strength in his legs so he could walk again.

This past week he'd gone out and bought art supplies, then with his stereo blasting, he'd set about recapturing his Princess on paper. After her came Oz and Willow standing next to each other in the sunlight with the shadows they cast being a werewolf and a female with an aura of power. He'd mailed it to Oz on Thursday as Willow's birthday present.

Yesterday he had drawn a quick, evil one of his sire, which he put on the dart board in the basement. Then he started on Buffy. His first few were only sketches, trying to capture her many expressions and moods. Now he was working on a pen-dot portrait of her from one of the thumbnail pictures.

Setting the pen aside, Spike stood and stretched the kinks out of his back from hunching over the table. Grabbing his coffee cup, he padded barefoot to the kitchen, singing along to the music. "Baby, if I think about you, I think about love. Darling, if I live without you, I live without love. And if I had the sun and moon and they were shining, I would give you both night and day love satisfying. Feel like making love. Yeah I feel like making love. Oh I feel like making love. Feel like making love to you."

After refilling his mug with coffee, he had opened the fridge to grab something to eat when the doorbell rang. Snagging a handful of grapes, he popped one into his mouth as he went to answer the door. It was a good thing he'd been in the kitchen where the bell chime was located or he wouldn't have heard it.

Spike opened the front door and blinked in surprise before a big smile came over his face. Popping another grape in his mouth, he stepped back and gestured for the blond to enter, then closed the door behind her. He went over to the end table and picked up the remote, turning down the volume on the stereo.

"Loud much?" Buffy asked with a grin, dropping the bag she had over her shoulder to the floor behind the couch.

"Ooh, yum," Buffy said, snatching one and eating it. "You know what would go good with grapes? Chocolate syrup."

Spike arched his eyebrow at that. "I think I have some in the fridge," he said, leading her in that direction.

Buffy sat down at the kitchen table as he pulled out the bowl of grapes and chocolate syrup. He gave her a bowl, then watched as she smothered the green seedless grapes in chocolate before eating one. "Mmm," she said, chewing with her eyes closed, a heavenly look on her face. "Delicious."

"Has anyone ever told you that you are a bloody strange girl?" Spike asked, picking up his coffee and taking a sip.

"So, what brings you to my neck of the woods? Not that I'm not happy to see you," he added quickly. "Just curious."

"Well...," Buffy began. She had planned on telling him about her condition this weekend, having decided to have the baby. But seeing him standing in front of her had removed all her bravery. "I uh...last time I was here...um...I accidently saw the letter from Drusilla," she finished with a quick lie.

Spike paused with the mug halfway to his mouth. The familiar pain of grief came over him, but not as intense as it had been two months ago. Carefully, he set the cup on the counter, taking several silent, deep breaths before responding. "Why didn't you say anything?"

"Well, you were sick and it was private," Buffy answered, scolding herself in her mind for being a chicken. "I was talking to Giles about your human-ness the other day and I told him about it." Which was true. "Then Willow got worried that whoever the man Drusilla was talking about was still after you." Which was also true, except for the part about Willow being the one who was worried.

He frowned, then walked out of the kitchen. Buffy watched him leave with a puzzled look, then stood and followed him. He had seated himself on the couch and was working over something laid on the coffee table. "Spike?"

Spike sighed, looking up at her standing at the end of the couch. "I'm sorry, luv. Thinking about Dru...it still hurts."

Buffy sat on the couch next to him and squeezed his knee in sympathy, deciding to change the subject. "So, what'cha working on?"

Buffy's eyes widened. What had looked like a bunch of dots close up formed a very familiar face. A face that was giving the viewer an exasperated look. "I look like that?"

"All the time, pet, especially when you're looking at me," Spike replied with a grin. "Like you were annoyed with me or something to that effect."

"When am I not annoyed with you?" Buffy teased as he set the paper back on the table.

She shook her head and leaned back on the couch. "Another hidden talent. You know, with all the things you know how to do, you should have been too occupied to go out and terrorize people."

"And lose out on all the literally bloody fun? Never." Buffy laughed and he added a few more pen dots before asking casually, "Staying for the weekend, ducks?"

Spike paused mid-dot as sexual excitement coursed through his body at her words. He swallowed heavily, then continued his action. "I'd love to have you, Slayer," he answered quietly, not-so-hidden meaning behind the sentence.

Buffy felt a tingle run through her as she caught his message. "I thought maybe we could get to know each other better."