Days in the Sun
August 4th, 2018 - Reflection
Carefully closing the front door behind him, William quickly scanned his surroundings. He could hear noise in the kitchen, and his sixth sense told him it was his mother. The tv was on, he discerned some cartoonish dialog. Joyce, he decided. Where was Spike ? He had to talk to him first, to have an ally when Buffy would see him.
It had sounded like such a great idea when Sarah, his girlfriend, suggested it. Right now, he wasn’t so sure any more. Oh, he looked great, and he liked the new style, but the sudden thought of confronting the Slayer was stressful. Even if he was 16, even if she was always more lenient with him than with the girls, he knew she would not hesitate to ground him, or worse. Spike was another story. He could be just worse than Buffy if taken the wrong way, but given enough time, all three of his kids could make him see their point of view. That’s why he needed to find him now. It was 4pm. He was either sleeping or in his office. Betting on the office, William moved silently across the wooden floor. As he passed by the entrance of the living room, he encountered Joyce. Her eyes widened as she looked at him, her mouth forming a perfect ‘o’. He winced.
“You are so dead!” the 11 years old said with a wicked smile.
Before he could threaten her – or beg her – she yelled “Mom ! Dad !”
“Brat !” he hissed through clenched teeth.
She stuck her tongue at him. “You should have taken me to see that movie when I asked.”
Alarmed by his youngest daughter’s shout, Spike rushed out of the office, instinctively grabbing a letter-opener in case he needed a weapon. Old habits died hard. He stopped just outside the door, taking in the sight in front of him. Joyce was fine, grinning with satisfaction as she watched… a reflection of himself.
He hadn’t had much use for mirrors in the last century, but he knew if he had a reflection it would look very much like the young man standing next to his sister. His face was not as angular as Spike’s, maybe, softened by some remnant of baby fat. But the eyes were the same blue. And the hair…
Movement on the other side of his children caught his eye. Buffy was standing there, holding a kitchen’s knife, her face showing the same surprise he was feeling. Her eyes locked on his, and a silent exchange passed between them. Neither had given permission, neither approved. Through the years, they had gotten very good at understanding each other without a word. It was necessary when your demon children felt no guilt at playing you one against the other.
His gaze shifted to Joyce, and he repressed a smile at her obvious enjoyment. She liked to taunt William way too much.
“Kitchen”, Buffy said sternly, turning back to where she had come from, followed by a sighing William. Spike stopped his daughter as she started after them.
“Jay, get back to your cartoons.”
She turned to him with pleading eyes, but seemed to think better of
it as she looked at his face. Witnessing William get into trouble certainly
wasn’t worth getting into trouble herself.
Sitting on the counter, Buffy observed the teenager who kept his eyes on the floor. She had never realized before how much he looked like his father. But now, with his light brown curls gone and replaced by slicked back peroxide blonde hair, she couldn’t deny it. In a few years, they might look like twins. If the boy survived this…
Spike entered the kitchen, an image of severity with his deep frown and crossed arms. Still, there was that little spark in his eyes. He was amused. He wouldn’t show it to their son, of course, but he couldn’t hide it from her. He came to the counter and hopped on it, settling next to her.
“Go ahead, William. We’re listening.”
Even in his voice, she could hear his amusement. She sincerely hoped she was the only one to notice it. Their son finally looked up at them, visibly flinching.
“I just thought I’d try a new look,” the teen said defensively. “Both of you dye your hair, so why not me after all ?”
Buffy was about to give him a piece of her mind when Spike’s laughter stopped her dead. She elbowed him and gave him a dirty look.
“Sorry luv,” he chuckled, obviously trying to calm down. “The kid has a point, though.”
She followed his gaze back to William, who suddenly didn’t look so tense any more.
“It was her idea, wasn’t it ? What’s her name again ? Sandra ?” Spike asked.
“Sarah.” The boy answered, blushing slightly.
Buffy looked back at Spike, frowning. “Who is Sarah ?”
Grinning, the vampire answered her question, his eyes never leaving their fidgeting child. “Oh, that’s right luv, you were not there when the lady visited. Pretty little bit, she is. My son’s taste in women is almost as good as mine. Of course her own taste is not that bad, if she had the brilliant idea to make him a clone of me.”
“That wasn’t what she wanted !” William protested. “She said it would look cool on me. And it does !”
“Sure it does, lad. But look at yourself in a mirror again. It’s not William you’re going to see, it’s Spike. Now shall we wonder who the young lady sees when you kiss her ? And by the way, it better be no more than kisses if you want to live to be 17.”
Buffy stared in turn at her husband and son. The latter had now a look of horror on his face, probably at the idea that his girlfriend was turned on by his own father. The laugh was gone from Spike’s voice, but a twinkle remained in his eyes. He was enjoying this, Buffy realized. And his casual remarks seemed to be more effective than any tirade she could have come up with. Still, he was just too cocky for his own good.
“You do look awfully like your father,” Buffy said sweetly, “and if you were not my son…”
She let her voice trail into a laugh as she took in mirror looks of shock that both peroxided blondes were giving her. Apparently, Spike didn’t like the taste of his own medicine…
“I’ll go to the store,” William said quickly. “Buy some hair color. Brown.”
Buffy nodded and held out her hand. “Car keys.” She said simply.
“My keys ?” he complained. “Why ?”
“Walking will give you time to think about women and the weird things they make us do,” Spike answered, almost too seriously.
Soon, a flustered William was exiting the house, head low and hands thrust deep inside his jeans’ pockets. Buffy watched him go, playing with the heavy key-ring, a thought running through her head.
“Who was it for you ?” she asked playfully.
“Who was what, pet ?” he answered, jumping down from the counter and standing between her knees.
She ran her fingers through the bleached locks, always amazed at how soft they were despite the treatment they endured.
“The woman who made you do weird things ?”
Briefly, his eyes clouded, and she cursed herself mentally. She should have thought before asking stupid questions to which she already had the answer. How many women had gone through Spike’s life? Only two that counted, she knew it. Her and Dru.
“As I see it,” he said quietly, “you qualify as the one who makes me do the weirdest things. Made me stop hunting, put me on animal diet, made me kill demons, made me a father and husband. Made me fall in love with the Slayer.”
Her fingers still tangled in his hair, she pulled him into a tender kiss. Softness was soon replaced by fire as he returned her kiss hungrily. Without thought, her legs wrapped around his waist, just as his arms locked around her back, pressing her closer to him.
“God ! Won’t you two ever get a room!”
They broke the kiss and turned to the source of the interruption, both giggling like teenagers at the horrified look on Lisa’s face.
The characters and names used in these stories do not belong to me. All copyrights remain with Fox and Mutant Enemy. No profit is made from this fanfiction.