Days in the Sun









Spike could easily see, as he kissed Buffy and needlessly promised to be careful that she itched to accompany him. She hadn’t set foot in a cemetery since his return to Sunnydale, and he knew she couldn’t wait to start patrolling again, and get rid of her excess energy. But he had extracted a promise from her, the night of his return, and she had respected it until now; the promise that she wouldn’t patrol while she was pregnant and until she was back in shape afterwards.

It hadn’t be easy, but he had even managed to get her agreement that he would be the one to judge when she was back to her top form. A few times over the last months, he had wondered what else she would have agreed to if he had pressed her a little more, that night. She had been so bloody happy that he had come back to her, so happy that he had not reverted back to his old killing ways, that sometimes he could almost believe that she might have completely given up on her slaying duties if he had asked. But he knew that she would have hated it, and he didn't regret that he hadn't asked.

And as he closed the door behind him, he wondered how long he would be able to delay her return to patrols. It had only been three days since William’s birth, and already she was talking of training. He didn’t doubt that she would soon be ready, and while he would enjoy her company on patrol, he also knew that he would worry about her. Just like she was probably worrying about him at that moment.

For the time being, however, Spike wasn’t going to be in any danger. He couldn’t have explained why he hadn’t mentioned it to Buffy, but since William’s birth his mind had been coming back over and again to the same few questions, all of them relating to what it was exactly that the prophecy that had started it all said. He had never heard more than a few words about it, but he knew that Giles had had the occasion to read it, and tonight he intended to satisfy his curiosity.

The Watcher raised a questioning eyebrow when he opened his door to Spike. Usually, such visits only occurred at a later hour, when Spike discovered large nests or noticed suspicious activities that required research.

“’Night, Rupert. Care for a bit of a chat?”

“A chat?” the Watcher repeated even as he let Spike in, and he sounded wary of Spike’s affected nonchalance. “About anything in particular?” His voice suddenly took a worried tone. “Is Buffy alright? The baby…”

“They’re fine,” Spike assured him. “Though Buffy is getting antsy about staying home.” He sat down on the sofa, and watched as Giles poured two glasses of scotch as he usually did without asking. There was barely the width of a finger in each tumbler, just enough to taste the fine liquor. Spike waited until Giles had handed him his glass before he continued. “I wanted to talk about the kidlets, actually. And the prophecy.”

Giles’ lips barely touched the liquid amber in his glass before he took place in the armchair, facing Spike. He didn’t ask which prophecy Spike was referring to, but then it had to be obvious.

“What did you want to know exactly?” he asked after a short pause.

“How about you start by showing me the text, so I know what we’re talking about?”

To Spike’s surprise, Giles didn’t move, and for a second he looked distinctly uncomfortable. “Does Buffy know you’re here?”

Spike frowned. “Why?”

Giles stood again and returned to the liquor cabinet, where he proceeded to refill his glass, more generously this time. “Back when we were in London,” he said quietly, his back still to Spike, “she asked me… she was reluctant for you to hear about it.”

The blow was swift and straight to the heart, and it took Spike a few seconds to remind himself that things had been different in London. Buffy had not yet admitted her feelings to herself, let alone anyone else, and she must have had a good reason to not want Spike to know about the prophecy. A reason that was now irrelevant.

“It concerns me,” he said, as calmly as he could. “It concerns the woman I love, and it concerns our children. I’m not leaving until I know what it says, Watcher.”

Giles turned back to him; his mouth was curved on a strange little smile. “Of course, Spike. Actually, I’m a little surprised that you didn’t ask any sooner.”


Still sipping his drink, Giles observed Spike as he paced back and forth in the living room, the journal in which Giles had transcribed the prophecy in his hands. He had to have been on his third or fourth reading by now, and his frown was more and more pronounced.

“It doesn’t say a thing about me,” he said at last, closing the journal with a snap. “It just talks of a vamp. That could have been anyone.”

Under other circumstances, Giles might have told him that it had been what he had made the same observation himself, when he had read the prophecy for the first time in London. Right now, though, Spike looked like he needed to be calmed down before any reasonable conversation could happen.

“It doesn’t say a word about Buffy either, if you care to notice. Any vampire and any Slayer - prophecies are usually that vague. It’s rare for a name to be mentioned at all.”

“So how do you know it even applies to us?” Spike grumbled as he sat down heavily and opened the journal again.

“Come on, read between the lines. The middle part talks pretty clearly about what happened in London and our defeat of the Council. So the prophecy does apply to you.”

“It could have been anyone, though,” Spike protested again. “Here I thought the Slayer and I were destined to…”

“But you were,” Giles interrupted, fighting to keep both his amusement and impatience out of his voice. “The simple fact that you fulfilled the prophecy, or part of it so far, means that you were destined to do it. It doesn’t matter what could have been, only what actually took place.”

Spike looked at Giles, an eyebrow arched. “You’ve had too much to drink to get all philosophical on me, Watcher. And I haven’t had enough to answer properly.”

Giles was about to protest – he hadn’t had much more than Spike, and far from enough to even be lightheaded – but he realized Spike was playing with him.

“So, what’s this ‘three times under the spell’ bit,” Spike asked after a few seconds, his eyes and attention back on the page in front of him.

“What do you think it means?” Giles shot back. He was certain that Spike could figure it out, and the slow smile that curved the vampire’s lips proved him right.

“We’re going to have three kids?”

As he left Giles’ flat, the words of the prophecy continued to run through Spike’s mind, and he couldn’t help but feel torn. On the one hand, he had just learned that he and Buffy would have not just two children, but three. And while he adored Lisa and William, the simple idea that the miracle would take place a third time was thrilling. On the other hand, what these three children would grow up to be left him apprehensive. They would be fighters, the prophecy was clear on that. But they would be more than that, and it was this ‘more’ and what it meant that Spike wished he knew more about. He would have to wait, and see what happened. One thing was sure though; he and Buffy would need to prepare them for what they were destined to become. They couldn’t just let them grow up as though they were regular children and simply hope that everything would turn out for the best.

He wondered what Buffy thought of all of it. From what Giles had said, she had known the details of the prophecy ever since they had extorted from the Council the promise that they would be left alone. She had never said a word about it, though. And she had even asked Giles to keep it from him. That knowledge still stung, but if she had made that decision back in London, Spike could, somewhat, understand it. Things were far from clear between them back then, and if he had been told about all this, Spike would never have given her the time she had asked for.

Trying to focus on his hunt, Spike went through two cemeteries before returning home. He and Buffy would need to talk about all this, some day, and decide what they would tell the kids about the prophecy, and when. There was no rush, though. They had at least a few years before Lisa or William could pick up a stake and learn to put it to use.






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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.