Chapter Text
Four Years Later
Grey clouds were muting the sunset, but it wasn’t actually drizzling, so Spike had taken the girls outside to play in the front yard while Buffy banged around in the kitchen, humming pop songs and throwing together dinner. Probably spaghetti, since he was fairly certain he could smell marinara.
It was October and the trees on their street were already putting on their fall show. Xander was out in front of his house, the motor of his leaf blower whirring as he battled the endless piles of leaves the huge maple in his front yard was constantly dropping. Anya, pregnant with their second child, told a rather riveting version of the never-ending battle with the deciduous tree. Spike had suggested once they cut it down to be done with it, but both Xander and Anya had looked horrified. The damn tree was nearly a family member.
Across the way, Lorne was belting out something by Sinatra, and Spike waved at Fred as she drove by in her Subaru, having just wrapped up her shift at the clinic. She was officially Mrs. Wyndham-Price now, and rumor had it she and Wes were working on starting a family.
There was a faint tinkle of wind chimes from the witches’ house.
All was well.
Spike knew it was a little silly but he felt responsible for keeping his adopted family safe. His demon side’s penchant for violence was well satisfied by the patrols he and Buffy went on several nights a week, along with raids on further flung hotbeds of evil that the extensive underground demon network they’d cultivated tipped them off to, but Spike had found it’d developed a protective streak a mile wide.
Every night, before he could sleep, he’d go out and prowl one last time up and down the quiet street, ensuring everything was as it should be. Only then could he rest. Buffy, bless her, never gave him the ribbing he bloody well deserved for it. He usually tried to pass it off as having a smoke before bed, but she knew better.
There was a high-pitched laugh from behind him and Spike swung around and crouched down. “Is that a little girl I smell? This grizzly bear is going to eat her all up!” Anne, wearing a pink dress with her blonde hair done up in pigtails with pink bows, squealed and took off running. She was the girlier of the two, always setting up for tea parties that Spike gladly suffered through. Especially now that she and her sister had started preschool and were gone in the mornings. Spike was dreading next year and actual kindergarten.
Dawn, her straight brown hair flying behind her, crashed into his leg. “Bad grizzly bear!” she hollered. Spike swung her up off the ground and tickled her mercilessly. She was in a t-shirt and jeans, and while Anne looked more like her mum, it was Dawn who was just like her attitude-wise. Buffy and Dawn were going to butt heads when Dawn got older, as they were far too much alike.
He set Dawn down and she took off like a shot.
Anne ran by, trying to stay out of arm’s reach of the “grizzly bear” but Spike darted forward and caught her, swinging her around in a circle while she giggled.
“Freeze, monster, and let the child go,” a voice Spike didn’t recognize boomed out from by his front gate. The click of a crossbow bolt sliding into place was unmistakable. The sound was obscene, here in the peaceful little corner of the world where his family lived.
Spike turned to face the threat. A middle-aged man in glasses, flanked by a short red-headed boy and a taller girl with overly processed, dark, wavy tresses. A van was parked on the street. The side door slid open and to Spike’s horror, Angel climbed out, stake in hand. It was then he figured out who the sodding hell the wankers in his front garden were: the Sunnydale crew. The Slayer he’d offed there, Missy, the older bloke was her Watcher and the younger two had been her mates. Oz and Cordelia, if he remembered correctly.
Angel didn’t approach, just stood glowering beside the van.
“Spike,” the Watcher said. “Let the girl go.”
Spike was frantic, though he tried to appear calm for the twins’ sakes, but the bastard had a crossbow aimed at him, which meant it was pointed at Anne as well. One wrong move…the Gem of Amara would keep Spike alive, but the thought of Anne being hurt made anger boil inside him.
He fought to control his fangs. If they appeared the Watcher might become much less wary of collateral damage.
Anne’s arms were wrapped tight around Spike’s neck in a fierce hug.
“Hey, pumpkin, can you get down and go inside like a good girl?” he said quietly.
She shook her head and clung to him like a limpet.
The was a scrambling noise from the porch and his eyes darted to the side to see Dawn standing there. The Sunnydale people were obviously surprised by the presence of the second little girl as well.
“Dawn—” Spike started, wanting her far away from this lot, but her eyes were darting back and forth between the crossbow and him. She knew what the bow was. There were weapons in the house and for safety the girls had been told since before they could walk about how dangerous they could be, to not touch them, and to never point the bows at anybody.
Dawn scrunched up her face, opened her mouth, and screamed loud enough to wake the dead.
Anne started crying.
Christ, he’d just wanted out of Sunnyhell after Dru’s death and killing the Slayer for paltry revenge. Now he was wishing he’d snapped the necks of every last one of the wankers.
The front screen door slammed as Buffy rushed out. “Excuse me?” she sputtered as she put a hand on Dawn’s shoulder and the little girl finally stopped hollering. “What are you doing in my yard, threatening my family?”
The Watcher sighed, exasperated. “I’m trying to protect your daughters.”
“What?” Buffy looked at Spike, but he didn’t dare speak. Not until Dawn and Anne were safe.
There was the sound of banging doors and hurried footsteps. Apparently, Dawn’s screaming had alerted the entire block that something wasn’t right.
“Rupert? Rupert Giles?” Wes strode through the front gate. “What in heaven’s name are you doing in Seattle?”
Giles seemed shaken to see another Watcher. “Wesley? I could ask the same of you.”
“I live here. Other side of the street and one house down.”
Giles frowned. “I…we…it took us a long time, but we finally were able to track down the killer that murdered my Slayer. You should be thanking me, he was about to make a meal out of this poor woman’s children.”
Buffy huffed and Spike sighed as he tried to disentangle himself again from a now hiccupping Anne. At least the tears had stopped. But she wasn’t letting go and he didn’t think he could rip her off without hurting her, plus the violent action might lead to Giles getting trigger happy.
“Ah,” Wes said.
Spike glanced towards the street. Everyone was there, even a very pregnant Anya. Though she was hiding behind Dalton and Lorne, looking terrified and clutching the hand of her young son. These were the people who’d smashed her power center, after all. Angel was still by the van, scowling at Xander, who was brandishing his leaf blower like a weapon. The witches were holding hands and whispering, probably trying to figure out a way to use magic to help.
Fred slowly made her way into the yard. “Are there any hungry little girls here?” she asked. Both Dawn and Anne swiveled their heads to look at her.
“I think spaghetti’s a bust,” Buffy said. “How about you two go with Fred and she’ll make you her world-famous peanut butter and jelly sandwiches?”
“No crust?” Dawn asked.
“No crust,” Fred confirmed. Watching Giles and the crossbow warily, she edged towards Spike and Anne.
“Go with Fred and get your supper, pet,” Spike said. “I can hear your tummy rumbling.”
For a second it looked like the lure of her favorite sandwich was going to work. Anne’s grip loosed and she started to turn towards Fred, but that meant Giles and the crossbow also came into her line of sight.
She wrapped her arms back around Spike’s neck in a near stranglehold and sobbed.
“Honey,” Fred said, her voice soothing. “Come on with me, it’s going to be alright.”
“No!” Anne howled at the top of her lungs. “They’re going to hurt my daddy!”
“Uh,” Oz said. “Y’know. I don’t think we have the whole story here.”
Cordelia flipped her hair over her shoulder. “Duh. Giles, maybe you should put down that bow. I really don’t think Missy would want you aiming it at a little kid.”
“I put this down and that little kid is dead,” Giles snapped.
Spike glared at him, then slowly bent over until Anne’s feet were touching the ground. Gently, he pulled her arms from around his neck. “It’s okay, princess. I love that you want to protect me.” He swiped at the tears on her cheeks. “And I love you, but I really need you to go with Fred right now, okay? I promise I’ll be just fine, and I’ll even read you The Princess and The Pea at bedtime. Does that sound good?”
Anne sniffed. “With the voices?”
“With the voices.”
Anne kissed his cheek and took Fred’s hand, letting Fred lead her over to Dawn. Once both girls were safely inside, Spike gradually straightened, bracing for the impact of the crossbow bolt. No matter how much it hurt, he was going to have to yank the blasted thing out immediately, before one of the tossers, most likely Angel, figured out he had the Gem and managed to get the ring off his finger.
Thankfully, Angel was still being kept at bay by Xander and his leaf blower for the minute, though that wouldn’t last forever.
“Look, Giles, I understand you’re angry.” Wes touched Giles’ shoulder and the man turned his head just a fraction. It was all the opening Buffy needed. She catapulted herself off the porch, kicking the crossbow out of Giles’ hands and onto the ground. Instantly, she had the weapon in her hands, cracking it in two over her knee and throwing away the pieces. Before Giles had time to react, she’d slammed him onto his back on the lawn, knee on his chest and a hand around his throat.
“Hit him again!” Anya was yelling, and Spike chuckled when he saw Angel rubbing at his face from where Xander had belted him with the leaf blower.
Shaking his head, Spike looked down at Giles, who was gasping like a fish from Buffy having knocked the wind out of him.
“I need an explanation right now as to why you’re in my city, in my neighborhood, on my street, threatening my husband and daughter!” Buffy’s voice was full of barely contained rage.
“Husband?” Giles said weakly as his gaze focused on Buffy. “Who are you?”
“Buffy.” Wes was standing with his arms crossed. “You can probably let him up now, he’s not much of a threat without a weapon.”
Buffy, face dark with anger, let the berk go, spinning to walk off a few feet. Spike slid an arm around her waist and spoke in her ear.
“Real threat is the git by the van. That’s Angel, my grandsire. He has a soul shoved in him, but that doesn’t mean he’s a pussycat. He fancied himself in love with Missy and he didn’t like yours truly much before I…before I killed her.”
“Will he dust like any other vamp?”
“Reckon so.”
With a flick of her wrist, a stake appeared in Buffy’s hand. “Good.”
“I’m sorry about your Slayer,” Wes was saying to Giles. “I really am. I understand why you’re angry, the need for revenge.”
“You lost a potential a while back, didn’t you?” Giles had pulled his glasses off and was cleaning them.
“I did, but I made up for it. Buffy’s my Slayer, Rupert. Has been for several years now.”
“That’s preposterous. The Slayer is in Cleveland. Faith has been doing an amazing job for a great deal longer than most girls manage.”
Wes sighed. “She died, not for very long, but it was long enough for Buffy to be called. Faith still being active has meant we’ve been flying under the radar here, and we’d like to keep it that way.”
“I see,” Giles said. “Though I am rather curious as to how William the Bloody came to be married to your Slayer.”
The last two words sounded like an insult and Spike growled, not willing to listen to anyone be dismissive of his wife.
There was an answering growl from Angel, who’d finally managed to push past Xander. He stopped beside Oz and Cordelia, who were whispering with their heads together. “You can’t trust Spike,” Angel snarled. “He’s using you until he doesn’t need you anymore and then one dark night you will all be dead.”
There was a giggle and Willow put her hand over her mouth. “Sorry,” she said, sounding muffled. “That was just so dramatic.”
Buffy rolled her eyes. “Look…Angel. I don’t know you. I don’t want to know you. I’m really sorry you lost someone important to you, but Missy killed Drusilla, Spike killed Missy, and then he left town.” Angel looked taken aback by Dru’s name coming from a stranger’s lips, but Buffy continued. “And Spike’s not the same guy he was then. I’ve been living with him for over four years now. He saved me when I was pregnant and starving. He delivered the girls himself in this house, the house we’re making a home together in. The only father Dawn and Anne have ever known is him, they love him. I love him.”
Spike wrapped his arms around Buffy from behind, holding her tight. He’d have to tell her later, when they were alone, exactly how much hearing her say all that meant to him. “Love you too, kitten.”
“Spike’s my best friend,” Wes said after a moment. Giles looked like he’d been slapped.
“He’s my friend too,” Xander said. “We even got him cheering for the Seahawks now, whether or not he thinks it’s proper football.” Xander made air quotes when he spoke the last two words and Spike managed to not sigh as Xander continued. “He and Buffy babysit for me and Anya all the time. If it wasn’t for them, Xand Jr. wouldn’t be getting a baby sister.”
“He helps us all the time.” Tara’s voice was soft but strong. “With maintaining the house, and carrying heavy stuff, and he changes the oil on our car.”
Angel’s mouth was hanging open.
“And he helps with spiders,” Willow added. “Only we won’t let him kill them, so he carries them out to the backyard.”
“I keep telling you birds they’re just going to bloody well keep coming back in doing it that way,” Spike grumbled.
Willow shrugged with an apologetic look on her face. Witches and nature. Heaven forbid he didn’t sort the recycling correctly.
“Maybe it doesn’t mean much coming from me,” Dalton said. He was clutching Lorne’s sleeve like he was about to fall over and his ridges were showing. “But Spike is my book club buddy. I’d still be sitting alone in a tiny apartment if it wasn’t for him. And the four of us get together for b-breakfast, every Sunday morning, to do the crossword.”
“They do the crossword,” Lorne said. “I get everyone fed. And I’d like to point out that English muffin there,” he jerked his head at Spike, “hasn’t drunk anything but pig and beef blood for years now. Dalton here as well. They’ve got rewards cards from the butcher that delivers here, so many pints bought and you get a free one. You can see all the punch cards if you’d like.”
The entire Sunnydale crew had turned to stare at Lorne, who just grinned back. They seemed confused by the very obviously not-human demon, his bright pink shirt, and especially the arm he had resting around Dalton’s waist.
A flat-black Porsche, stereo thumping, drove down the street and pulled over to park in front of the van. Shadow—the name had stuck, much to Keith’s delight— got out of the front seat, a set of papers in one hand. He looked much the same as ever, just now his hoodies had designer labels on them. He started towards Spike and Buffy’s house but stopped dead when he realized there was a group of people there already. “Whoa, am I interrupting something?”
“Who are you?” Angel snapped. “And by all means please tell us all how wonderful Spike is.”
Spike smirked. If there was one thing he was never going to grow out of, it was irking the arse. While in Sunnydale, Spike had been preoccupied with Dru and his attempts to heal her, but he’d been well aware of Angel mooning around after Missy. Probably looking to have the same kind of life and acceptance Spike did here in Seattle with Buffy and their friends. If someone took Buffy from him, Spike knew he’d hunt that person down and slaughter them, but Spike knew Angel, knew that the only person Angel had ever really managed to love was himself, and not even that since the soul. Whatever Missy had meant to Angel, in the end Spike doubted that emotion was going to be enough to fuel endless attempts on his life. Especially if Angel would only be reminded of what he didn’t have every time he saw Spike. The sod would just bugger off and go be heroic elsewhere.
Shadow frowned at Angel. “Um, Spike helped me with my nickname, and he helped my gran move to a better place. Which reminds me.” He held up a bag of cookies. “Gran made snickerdoodles for the girls.” He lowered the cookies and shook the papers in his other hand in Angel’s direction. “But mostly I’m here because I need signatures from Spike and Buffy authorizing the final touches on the expansion to the homeless shelter.”
“Homeless shelter?” Giles dropped his head into his hands.
Lorne, after shaking loose of Anya and patting her on the head, strode over to put a hand on Giles’ shoulder and look Angel in the eye. “I’m sorry you lost someone you cared about. I know it hurts, I can feel it, I’m an empath, but the guy you’re looking to take vengeance on, he doesn’t exist anymore. You’re looking for the vampire that killed Missy without batting an eye, but he’s gone. You don’t want to dust Buffy’s husband, Dawn and Anne’s father, or my friend. It’s time to let this go, there’s no one left to take your anger out on.”
Spike didn’t know what to say. He just hugged Buffy harder. She turned in his embrace and laid her head against his shoulder.
The Sunnydale group had their heads together and Lorne left them to talk. At least none of them seemed to recognize Anya. Xander had put his leaf blower down and was holding his son in his arms now.
Spike tried to figure out if he agreed with Lorne’s words and found them to be scarily true. He wasn’t much of a big bad anymore. That’d been Dru’s dream. He was who he’d wanted to be a very long time ago. Someone, maybe not quite a man, but close, with a wife to love and be loved by, children to dote on, and friends that both respected him and enjoyed his company.
It’d taken him a sodding long time to get here, but he was glad he’d found his way.
Oz spoke up after a minute. “Yeah, we, uh, we’re going to go.”
“Be out of my city by midnight,” Buffy said, turning her head to fix them with a glare.
“Are you sure?” Cordelia asked. “I was kind of hoping to hit the sale at The Bon Marche tomorrow.”
“The Bon’s having a sale?” Buffy asked, then shook herself. “Midnight.” She paused. “Well, maybe midnight tomorrow.”
Cordelia’s eyes lit up.
“We’re gone.” Giles headed towards the van without looking back. Oz and Cordelia followed him, though the girl cast a look back over her shoulder as she went.
Angel caught Spike’s eye. “One toe out of line…”
Buffy spun towards Angel and tightened her grip on the stake that was still in her hand. “Spike’s toes are mine. If any of them get out of line, I’m the one who smacks him around. Not you.”
Christ, she was adorable when she was brassed off. He was so going to pound her into the mattress of their specially reinforced bed—so far Xander’s fifth try was holding up remarkably well—after the girls were sleeping.
Angel held up his hands, sent one more glare in Spike’s direction, and stalked back to the van.
“Shadow,” Buffy said, her eyes tracking the van as it drove off. “Make sure they actually leave.”
“Already on it.” Shadow held up his Blackberry.
“Thank you.” Buffy took the bag of cookies from him and skimmed over the papers in his hand. “No problems?” she asked.
“None at all,” Shadow answered. “And we’ve been pretty successful with donations of hygiene products and socks.”
“New socks,” Buffy groaned as she signed. “I can remember when those were the best things ever.”
Spike signed off on the plans without really looking. If Buffy was okay with them, that was good enough for him. “I’m going to get my wife inside before we have people calling in public indecency complaints about her moaning over socks,” he said, putting his arm back around Buffy.
Shadow looked heavenward and reclaimed his Montblanc pen before Spike could steal it. Bugger. So far he’d only managed to trick the kid out of two of them. Everyone else had already dispersed homewards, except Wes, who’d gone inside in search of his wife.
“I think I’m going to have a PB&J as well,” Buffy said as she and Spike climbed the steps on the front porch.
“Maybe if you ask nicely Fred would cut the crust off for you too,” he teased.
“I like the crust,” she pouted. “It makes the taste more interesting.”
“And you like things being interesting?”
“I keep you around, don’t I?”
He couldn’t argue that one.
At the top of the steps, two little-girl-shaped rockets collided with him. He had to let Buffy go so he could scoop one up in each arm.
“You okay, Daddy?” Anne asked, looking him over.
“I’m just fine, princess. Though I know two girls who are going to need a bath soon.” Buffy held the door open while he carried the girls back inside. Fred and Wes were in the foyer, ready to take their leave. “Thanks for helping with the girls,” Spike said to Fred.
“You’re welcome. I’m glad that everything turned out okay. You could have knocked me over with a feather when I saw that…dummy pointing a crossbow at you and Anne.”
Spike shuddered, fear he hadn’t let himself feel earlier coming home to roost.
“There are extra sandwiches with both grape and strawberry jelly on the counter,” Fred said, waving at the girls as she walked outside.
Wes nodded to Spike. “Meant what I said, you’re a good friend.”
“Thanks, mate.”
“I’m going to leave before this gets any more awkward.”
“You best do that.” Spike chuckled as Wes let himself out.
Buffy shut the door and locked it. “I could eat a horse. Or ten horses.”
“Mommy!” Dawn cried, her mouth pulling down in a frown. She loved ponies.
“Not really,” Buffy said. “It’s just an expression.”
“You go eat,” Spike told her. “I’ll get these two pigeons clean and I do believe I promised someone I’d read The Princess and The Pea.”
Dawn made a face. “I like the steam shovel one better.”
“Maybe, just this once, I can read two bedtime stories,” Spike said, setting the girls down. “Now run along and pick out your pajamas and I’ll be right there.”
Dawn and Anne took off, thundering up the stairs.
Spike caught Buffy as she walked past him, heading for the kitchen.
“Got plans for my other dirty girl later,” he breathed in her ear, entirely satisfied with how she shivered in his arms as he kissed her neck.
“Daddy!” Anne hollered. “Dawn’s not letting me wear my Cinderella pajamas!”
Buffy smiled up in amusement at him. “Can you believe you gave up being a feared creature of the night to referee preschooler pajama disputes?”
He brushed the hair out of her face and trailed a finger across her cheek as he looked her right in the eye.
“Yes.”