Childer & Children

Spike waited until Buffy and the two kids had left the room before turning a now very serious gaze to his Sire.

“There was a reason why I invited you here today,” he said soberly. “Though it wasn’t to tease you about the cheerleader.”

Angel didn’t look very surprised, as if he had felt this was coming. “What, then?”

“Dawn. I want your promise you will keep her out of your fights.”

The brunette nodded. “I had guessed that much. I’ll do what I can, but I can’t guarantee…”

“Not good enough,” Spike interrupted him. “She’s not going there to be part of your little crew.”

“I know that,” Angel sighed. “But does she? She can be very stubborn when she has her mind set on something. And it’s not like she listens to me in the best of cases.”

Spike grimaced at that. Dawn had indeed picked up the habit somewhere to do as she pleased even when it was obvious that she was wrong. That had to be Buffy’s influence…

“Pull rank on her,” he suggested. “Or lock her up. But if I hear that you took her out where she could get hurt…”

The half threat was left to hang between them, and Angel raised an eyebrow questioningly, indicating very clearly what he thought of the empty words.

“I don’t want her to get hurt any more than you do,” he pointed out as he got to his feet. “And I’m quite sure Steven will be more convincing than me when it comes to keeping her safe. Why don’t you harass him, instead of me, for a change?”

Spike couldn’t help grinning. “Already did. Just thought I’d keep you on the same line.”

As Angel started complaining that they needed to be on their way, Spike went upstairs to get his ladies, and minutes later he was left with only one of them, his Mate and wife. As he took her in his arms, he could see once more her sadness, and decided to try to lighten the mood.

“Empty house,” he said quietly. “Which means we can do what we want, where we want, when we want, and as noisily as we want.”

Buffy’s clear laugh filled his mind, and Spike relaxed just a little. She hadn’t talked about it, but he had seen in the last few days how Dawn’s imminent departure was affecting her. He had a suspicion that it was deeper than simply the prospect of missing her sister’s presence, but he had become rather good in the last few years about knowing when it was useless to breach a topic she didn’t want to talk about, and this felt like one of those times. He would still be there when she was ready to talk, and until then he could still offer her his presence and whatever comfort she could take from him.

“And what is it exactly that you have in mind?” she asked in a too innocent voice that told exactly what she thought it was that he wanted.

Simply smiling at her, he didn’t answer and led her to the living room. She seemed somewhere between amused and puzzled when he lay down on the sofa and opened his arms for her to join him.

“Cuddle time?” she questioned, perplexed.

“Unless you’re up for more?” he replied, his smirk widening.

“Cuddle sounds good,” she murmured as she found a place against the back of the sofa, her body half draped over his, her face nuzzling his neck.

One of his hands covered hers where it was resting on his chest, while the other began playing in her hair. The motion was habitual, soothing, almost a ritual, and it wasn’t long until the stress of the last few days took their toll on Buffy. Breaths as irregular as they were unneeded tickling his neck soon informed Spike that his Childe was asleep. Her body falling back into old breathing habits was always a sure indication that she was sleeping. Either that, or a telltale sign of passion.

They had a couple of hours until they were supposed to be at the Magic Box, more than enough time for a nice nap, but, although he closed his eyes, he did not join Buffy into slumber. Instead, he kept stroking her hair, giving her unconscious mind the reassurance that he was still there, still looking over her, still protecting her. In this respect, at least, he was acting as a Sire was supposed to, but it might have been the only one.

His memories of being a Childe himself were very clear, and should have somewhat guided his actions toward her, but their relationship was just so immensely different to the one he had had with his own Sire. He hadn’t taught her more than the very basics of being a vamp and nothing of the lore, had very rarely imposed his will to her – and that had only been when she lost her soul - , was treating her in all things more as an equal than as a Childe, when he wasn’t simply following her lead. He had never been bothered by all that, because her strength had always been one of the reasons he loved her so. When he had turned her, he hadn’t been interested in having someone to dominate, that had truly been the farthest thing from his mind.

But in the last few months, his demon had started getting agitated. The quiet life they were leading was beginning to chafe, especially when she seemed to do everything to even forget they were vampires. Oh, they still shared blood; there was just no way around that. They both needed it. But that was just about the only time when Buffy gave any hint of what she was. The thing that was bothering him was, he didn’t know how to talk to her about it. He wasn’t too sure, either, if she had always acted so and he had never noticed until now, or if it had started recently. He was hoping that, now that they were alone, she would start letting go a little of her control. It just was not normal, not safe, to repress her demon so tightly. But the subject was delicate, and subtle hints had only been met so far with blank stares. He didn’t want to push her, but he might have to do just that, sooner or later, for both their sanity.

Buffy woke to the quiet murmur of her name, and enjoyed, for just a few seconds more, the tender embrace of her lover. She hadn’t slept much the past few nights, as she worried for Dawn, although it was hard to admit even to herself. It was stupid, Dawn was very much capable of taking care of herself, but she just couldn’t help it. Now that it was done, however, now that the young woman had left, her fate was out of Buffy’s hands, and, somehow, she knew everything would be alright.

“Come on, luv. I know you’re awake.”

Sighing, she opened her eyes, stretching as she sat up.

“Nice nap?” Spike asked, getting to his feet.

“Very nice,” she replied with a grateful smile.

“Ready to go, then? The kid is probably already there. You know her.”

As she quickly went to change into more slaying friendly clothes than her summer dress was, Buffy’s thoughts drifted to Min who, as Spike had said, was probably already in the shop’s backroom. They had changed her training hours, and were meeting her later in the day so as to avoid the hottest hours of the afternoon, but she was so eager to learn that she was always there before them, practicing by herself or with her Watcher until they got there. They would train for an hour or two and then go on patrol, the three of them together. Communication was much easier now that she spoke more English; the first few months they had had to rely on her Watcher to translate her Chinese dialect and on some very basic commands when they were sparring or fighting. She was going to start high school as an exchange student at the end of the summer and, by her excitement about it, it was clear that her desire to learn extended to a lot more than simply learning to fight. Buffy loved her enthusiasm, but something bothered her a little about Min. Sometimes it seemed that the too eager to slay teenager didn’t realize that what they were doing included a part of risk. She was even almost childlike at times, as if it was all nothing but a game of tag. Buffy had meant to warn her about it for a little while, but she wasn’t sure how to do it without scaring her.

As predicted, the Slayer was at the store when the two vampires arrived there, although for once she wasn’t training. Instead, she and her Watcher, Tomas, were going over books, looking at the demons’ drawn on the pages, obviously in research mode. Tomas quickly explained that Min had had a Slayer dream, and that they were looking for the creature she had seen in her dream to know how to kill it.

Just as they were about to join the research fun – with Spike already looking bored before having even opened a book – Anya called out to them, and Sire and Childe exchanged a glance before walking to the counter where she stood. Did she know yet? Buffy hoped she did, it was getting very hard to keep quiet about it. Crossing her arms, the ex-demon glared at each of them in turn.

“You knew, didn’t you?” she said gruffly. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Spike glanced at Buffy, smirking, pointing out without words that she had lost her bet.

“It wasn’t our place to say anything,” Buffy said with a smile.

“’Thought you’d want to know by yourself this time,” Spike completed.

Anya’s features softened slightly, although she looked like she was struggling to keep up a stern mask.

“Well, next time I demand that you tell me as soon as you know,” she admonished.

Spike chuckled at that. “Next time? How many kids you plan on having?”

A huge grin split Anya’s face. “Half a dozen,” she said, matter of factly. “Unless I get Xander to agree to more than that.”

Extricating himself from his sleeping Childe’s embrace, Spike noiselessly got out of bed, sparing a glance at Buffy to make sure he hadn’t awoken her. She stirred a little, her movements making the sheet slide down her body to partially uncover her nakedness. With a smile, he brought the linen back up, an unconscious reflex – it wasn’t like she was going to be cold. As he did so, he had to fight the urge to touch the skin he was covering. Maybe later, he would wake her again. Right now though, she looked like she could use some sleep.

Grabbing the pack of cigarettes and spare lighter on the dresser, he pulled on the heavy drapes and opened the window. He leaned against the sill as he lit a fag, blowing the smoke out in the cool air of the last hours of the night. The sky was beginning to lighten, ever so slightly.

Flashes of the dream that had awoken him were coming back to his mind. Dream or nightmare, he couldn’t have said which it was. Pieces of a past that was long gone, of a present that he wouldn’t allow, of a future that was more than improbable. If he looked for the meaning of it, it wasn’t too hard to find. Talks of children, of kin, of moving on, all of this had awoken in his demon a hunger for something more than this quiet existence, for offsprings of its own. A longing for the times of minions, and his blood creating life – or rather, unlife. He had had a few dreams like this one in the past few years, ever since Buffy had lost their soul and they had come so close to leaving Sunnyhell. But it had never been so vivid, never felt so real.

It was a sign that he hadn’t hunted for too long, he decided as he finished his fag and ground the stub in the ashtray next to the window. Time for him to find a new prey, scare it half to death, and get a taste of fear-tainted human blood. And maybe this time, he thought as he closed the windows and curtains before slipping back into the bed, right against her, he would manage to convince Buffy to hunt with him. Because if his demon was this restless, hers had to be even more on the edge.