Chapter Twelve

RECAP: The Child of Light and the infant that was concieved from the merging of Day and Night have been born. Darla, noticing there was something wrong with her child, had Buffy stake her during labor, whereas Buffy threatened Spike's unlife (but what else is new?). I introduced gravelly-voiced guy. (Insert dramatic music here) Da da dummmm! Here goes!

The sound of a crying infant filled the Los Angeles apartment. A muffled curse, smothered by a pillow. A grunt as one of the parents of the infant was ever so gently nudged off the bed, hitting the floor with a dull thud. The disheveled blond noted the time on the alarm clock that sat next to the bed. 2:13 am. They walked wearily from the master bedroom into the connected nursery, rubbing their eyes wearily. Bags under the eyes were becoming a problem, they noted as they removed their fingers.

A soft lullaby. The baby cooed as it was rocked back to sleep, then placed gently in its crib once more.

The parent stumbled back into the bedroom, falling back onto the soft mattress and immediately beginning to snore softly.

"Good morning, Los Angeles!" the overly cheerful radio announcer exclaimed brightly. "It's a beautiful day in the City of Angels. Here's your weather forecast for the day: A high of eighty-five, low of seventy-eight, not a cloud in the sky. We're broadcasting live from--" The voice cut off as a hand slapped the snooze button on the alarm.

Spike fell from his side of the bed and shuffled into the bathroom, turning on the shower taps. He stood beneath the showerhead, allowing the hot streams of water to course over his cool form, washing away his weariness. After quickly soaping up and rinsing off, he stepped from the shower, wrapping a large towel around his lean waist. He padded back into the bedroom.

"Buffy, luv, wake up. Shower's free," he said as he rifled through his side of the closet. He pulled out a pair of black leather pants and his signature deep red button-down, then walked over to the dresser and retrieved a black tank top and a pair of socks.

"Mmm..." Buffy groaned as she sat up. She rubbed her eyes before opening them, then focussed on her husband with a purely feminine smile of appreciation as he dropped the towel. She pouted at his back when he pulled his pants on. As she walked to the bathroom, she called over her shoulder, "Thanks for tossing me out of bed last night, by the way, honey."

"Anytime, luv," he replied. "Anytime." He chuckled as he finished dressing.

Buffy showered quickly and dressed in record time, then walked into the nursery and woke Anne. She carried the tiny infant into the kitchen, cradling her in one arm as she got out a bottle of milk and set it in a pan of hot water to warm.

Spike stood in front of the mirror, not seeing himself, arranging his hair with gel. He simply fixed it so it resembled his name: spiky. A silver-ball necklace came next, followed by a touch-up of his black nail polish. He applied just a bit of black eyeliner, then bent down and tied his bootlaces. Spike then walked out into the kitchen, kissed the most important women in his unlife, then reached into the refrigerator and plucked out a bag of blood. He poured it into a mug and microwaved it, then drank it quickly. "I'm off to work, then," he said as he disappeared out the door.

'Work' was actually security at Caritas. The entire job entailed standing in a dark corner looking menacing, preventing fights from breaking out, drinking all the blood that a vamp could handle, and entertaining the masses. The Host had originally hired him after reading him one night, and deciding that he could sing better than most of the bar's patrons.

On this particular evening, after several hours of drinking blood and comparing battle stories with some of the patrons, Spike approached the stage with an acoustic guitar in hand. He picked up a stool as he walked toward the stage, then situated himself in front of the microphone stand.

Lorne, who was clutching the microphone and finishing a rousing rendition of 'Come on Eileen', turned toward the bleached-blond vampire. "You ready to do this?" he asked. Spike smirked back at him in response. The green-skinned Host turned toward the audience. "And now, from London to Los Angeles, I present for your listening pleasure: the amazingly talented, gorgeous bleached-blond vampire himself! Ladies and gentlemen, please give a warm welcome to Spike!"

The crowd roared. Every day Spike was scheduled to perform, Caritas was packed. Instead of leaving the stage as he normally did after the introduction, Lorne stayed onstage, standing behind and to the right of Spike.

"Marry me, Spike!" a succubus screamed from the back of the bar. Spike chuckled and held up his left hand, displaying the wedding band he wore proudly.

"Thanks for the offer, luv, but I'm already taken," he said. "Today I'll be singing one of my newly discovered favorite songs for you: No One, by Cold. Reminds me of how I would feel if my lady left me."

He began to strum the guitar slowly, his fingers moving in a four-chord pattern. An overweight female fungus demon swooned when he began to sing. "Well I can't even really believe no one was sent to get me..." he began. His voice was husky as he continued. "And I feel like I'm being erased and no one got left here..." Although he had, at one point, thought that these words meant something to him, he realized now that they were just that. Words. "I'm all alone, no one was sent to get me, and I'm all alone, no one got left here..."

Lorne sang softly in the background. "But I'm fine..."

Spike took back over. "No one got left here..."

Lorne sang again. "And I'm fine..."

"No one got left here..." Spike leaned away from the microphone as he repeated the four-chord pattern twice on the guitar. He leaned back in and his eyes closed as his head swayed softly, continuing the song. "Well, I can't even breathe when I see the pictures sent without you, and I feel like I'm being erased... no one got left here." By this point in the song most of the patrons were staring at him, enraptured. "I'm all alone, no one was sent to get me... I'm all alone, no one got left here," he sang, his voice trembling slightly as nervousness began to set in.

"But I'm fine..." Lorne sang soulfully from behind Spike.

"No one got left here," Spike continued.

"And I'm fine..." the Host sighed.

"No one got left here," Spike sang, then broke off as he played a solo on the guitar. He winked at what he thought was a Polgara sitting in the front row, then grinned winningly at the audience. He played the chord pattern once, then leaned back into the microphone as if he was going to make love to it. "I'm so sick of this terrible instinct, it's so hard now just to find you," he sang, pausing and waiting for Lorne to join in the second time, harmonizing. "I'm so sick of this terrible instinct, it's so hard now just to find you..." He tossed his head back as Lorne sang the backup line.

"But I'm fine..."

"No one got left here..."

"Yeah I'm fine..."

"No one got left..." he tapered off, playing three final notes. His head dropped to his chest and then he stood and bowed, murmuring "Thank you very much," into the microphone. The crowd was on its feet in an instant, cheering wildly. He bowed twice more, then gathered up his guitar and stool and walked off the stage. Angel and Lorne were already waiting backstage for him.

"What is so important that you had to tell both of us at the same time?" Angel asked the Host.

"Angel, your little boy, and Spike your little girl..." he began slowly. Both fathers immediately growled a warning low in their throats at the thought of their offspring in trouble. Lorne rushed to finish. "They're not so little anymore," he said, cowering.

"What?" both vampires asked at the same time.

"See for yourselves," the green-skinned demon from Pylea said, trembling slightly as he pointed toward the entrance of the club. Buffy and Cordelia walked in, along with two young adults that Angel and Spike, at first glance, didn't recognize. At second glance, their eyes bulged comically. Both vampires, as if synchronized, leapt from the stage and walked to the quartet that had entered the room.

Spike sauntered up to Buffy and kissed her deeply, wrapping his arms around her back.

"Are they always like this?" the young man asked.

"As long as I can remember," the girl whispered back.

"I heard that," Buffy said, having broken off the kiss. Spike looked from his wife to the young woman that was nearly identical to her, with two differences: the girl standing next to his wife had dark brown hair, and piercing blue eyes, as well as amazing bone structure in her face. And the girl standing next to his wife had a different scent.

Anne grinned impishly at the vampire that, for all intents and purposes, could've been her brother. She waggled her fingers. "Hi, dad!" she said.

Angel stood staring at the tall young man standing before him. He took in the body structure, the facial features, the hair color, and the pale green eyes. This was his son. "Uh..." he began.

"Dad," Connor said gruffly, trying his best to do his impression of his father, which, the first few times, had sent Cordelia, Buffy, and Anne spiraling into fits of giggles.

"New prophecy?" Angel asked Cordelia.

"New prophecy," she confirmed.

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R to NC-17