Days in the Sun







Spike was in his office, humming softly as he reviewed the proof copy he had received back from his editor. Despite the closed window, he could hear the children playing in the backyard; but he didn’t mind the happy shouts and laughs. They had become the soundtrack to his unlife, and he quite simply couldn’t do without them anymore.

What he could do without, however, was the scream that suddenly replaced the laughter. Dropping what he was doing, he rushed out of the room to the kitchen and its back door. And stopped barely in time at the deadly limit that sunlight drew on the deck.

Cursing softly, he watched, only a few yards away but unreachable, Buffy kneeling on the ground next to William. He apparently was the one who had screamed and was still sobbing noisily as he sat in the grass under the tree cradling his left arm. Just a step away with her thumb stuck in her mouth, three year old Joyce Anne was looking at her brother with wide eyes. At her side, Lisa also seemed fascinated; though why the sight of her brother crying would fascinate her was a mystery to Spike.

He understood when Buffy gave up on trying to calm their little boy, and instead carefully picked him up and carried him back to the house.

The girls were staring because William was in game face.

Lisa ran ahead to where Spike was still waiting, seething that he couldn’t join them in the sun and help with whatever was wrong. Without pausing for breath once, she explained excitedly that William had tried to climb the tree and fallen and now his arm hurt and he looked all funny. As gently as he could, Spike asked her to take her little sister upstairs and play with her until William felt better. A rebellious light glinted in her eyes, but he smoothed it out with a few words about being the oldest and how happy he was they could count on her. Proud and smiling, she took her youngest sibling’s hand and led her inside.

Hiccups were shaking William’s body as Buffy sat him up on the kitchen counter, and Spike could see that the boy was trying very hard to contain his tears. He was still holding his arm and it was evidently broken.

“I need to take him to the hospital,” Buffy said with an urgent look at Spike. “But he can’t go like this.”

As she gently dabbed at William’s face with a tissue, drying the track of tears on his cheeks, it was all too clear what she meant by ‘like this’. They couldn’t go to the ER with William in full vampire regalia. The question was whether the child would be able to change back.

“I hurt,” he complained softly, his golden eyes gleaming with new tears as he looked from Buffy to Spike with all the hope and confidence a child could have that his parents would make things right again.

“I know, Will,” Spike replied quietly, smoothing the longish honey curls with a hand. “Mommy will take you to the doctor soon. But you need to calm down first. Can you do that for us?”

Swallowing a sob, William nodded – and winced as the movement made him shift his arm. His features remained very much bumpy, even as Buffy slowly stroked the little boy’s face. Spike knew why she was doing this – how many times had his own ridges melted under her tender touches? It wasn’t going to work though, or at least Spike doubted it would. There needed to be a conscious effort for the game mask to recede, even if it had emerged by accident.

“Will, look at me.”

When his son’s eyes were back on him, Spike assumed the bumps and ridges, wincing internally as Will’s eyes widened in what looked too much like fear.

“It’s just a mask,” he said soothingly. “Nothing more than a mask. And I can put it away just by thinking about it.”

Closing his eyes in a forced look of concentration, he willed the vampire visage away before bringing his blue gaze again to William.

“Can you do the same thing?” he asked William with a smile. “Think very hard about taking a mask off. Like the mask you wore for Halloween last year. Can you try?”

Looking slightly puzzled, William closed his eyes as Spike had done; but when he opened them again, they were still glowing like no human’s eyes could.

“With a mirror, maybe?” Buffy suggested quietly.

Spike nodded, and remained with William as she darted off to find a mirror. As he encouraged him to try again, he thought briefly of another possibility. If Will couldn’t manage to bring the mask down, Spike might have to enthrall him and make him change like that. His thrall powers weren’t that great, allowing him to do no more than small suggestions, but they hopefully would be enough to solve this crisis if needed. He only hoped the need wouldn’t persist. If anything like this ever happened again, if William shifted without meaning to, Spike might not be there to help. William needed to learn to control the game mask, there was no way around it.

Buffy finally came back with, of all things, a shiny silver platter.

“It was that or take off the mirror off the bathroom wall,” she said with an apologetic shrug as she handed the mirror to Spike. He noticed, then, that her hands were shaking, and he briefly squeezed her fingers before she let go of the tray.

William’s eyes widened as Spike held the tray in front of him so that he could see his reflection, his good hand coming up to touch his face.

“Lets try again,” the vampire said calmly, assuming once more his demonic visage. “Look at yourself, look at the mask. On three, we’re going to close our eyes and think very hard about taking the mask off, except that we can’t use our hands to take it off, only our minds. Imagine yourself pulling on your skin until you’re mummy’s little boy again. Alright?”

“OK,” William replied, now looking slightly surer of himself.

“One. Two. Three.”

Spike cheated and kept his eyes open as he shifted back to human. He saw William’s features rippling, accompanied by Buffy’s soft gasp, but the ripple did not concretize.

“It’s too hard,” William complained, his eyes shining once more with unshed tears when he opened them. “I hurt, Daddy.”

Sighing, Spike put the tray down on the counter, and glanced at Buffy as he squeezed his son’s shoulder lightly in what he hoped was a comforting touch. The thrall solution seemed like the best option, although maybe he wouldn’t have to force William out of game face.

“I’ll try to help him ignore the pain,” he explained to her, knowing it would be easier if she knew beforehand what he intended to do.

“How?”

“Thrall.”

Her eyebrows shot up, and he spoke again before she could protest.

“It’s the only way I can think of, luv. With the pain, he can’t concentrate enough to get rid of it. If I manage to make him ignore the pain for a while, he’ll probably have better control.”

“Probably?” she mouth silently, but gave him a short nod. It was all too clear that she didn’t like the idea any more than he did, but neither of them wanted to see their child keep hurting.

Eyes locked with his child’s, he talked in soothing tones, pushing the pain away with carefully chosen words. When he asked William to try again, it only took the boy a couple of times to get rid of the vampiric features.

Within minutes, Buffy and Will were on their way to the ER, and Spike was left alone to stare at his nonexistent reflection in the silver tray.


Usually, Spike was the one who tossed and turned until he gave up on finding sleep and got out of bed. That night, it was Buffy. She was tired – no, exhausted – after a too long and draining day; but she couldn’t fall asleep, too many thoughts dancing in her mind. The afternoon had been long, rushing to the ER, filling out too many insurance papers while the nurses commented on how brave William was, coming back home once his arm had been set in a blue cast, ‘to match your pretty eyes’, the doctor had said. Then an awkward discussion with Lisa and Will, a reminder that they shouldn’t try to show their ‘bumpy face’ if they could avoid it. And after that, mindless tasks to keep herself occupied and try not to think…

“What’s wrong?” came Spike’s worried whisper some time around three in the morning.

“Nothing,” she replied quietly. “I can’t sleep, that’s all.”

His arm snaked around her and pulled her closer to him.

“Is it because of William?”

She was about to deny it when she realized that it was useless.

“Yeah…”

Refreshing cool lips on her brow. “I know, luv. I know.”

A long pause, and then he continued with a choked murmur.

“I’m sorry.”

“Sorry about what?”

“Sorry you had to go through that. Things would be easier if they weren’t like me, I suppose.”

It took Buffy a few seconds to realize what he was talking about.

“No!” she protested immediately when she understood. “That’s not what I meant! I’m not upset because they can change. Not any more than I am upset that you’re a vampire. Don’t you know that?”

She pulled back a little, trying to see him, but it was too dark and she returned to her place against his chest.

“Well, you are upset about something,” he replied feebly. “What am I supposed to think?”

“I’m upset about what it means that they can shift to game face,” she explained slowly, almost hesitantly. “I had almost forgotten, and being reminded of it like that, so abruptly… There’s a prophecy that tells about our kids, but we still don’t know what is going to be expected of them. Or when. I wish…”

Her voice faltered, and she swallowed the dry sob she felt rising in her throat.

“I wish there wasn’t something waiting for them. Something we know nothing about, but still is coming.”

If possible, Spike’s hold on her tightened even more. His only answer was a soft, lingering kiss. Neither of them found sleep before morning.