Part Five

Patrol was rather uneventful. They came home and took their separate showers, Buffy going first and as usual taking nearly all the hot water. By the time Spike had finished his own bathing ritual, the water had been running cold for almost ten minutes. He pulled on a pair of black silk boxers with red hearts covering them that Buffy had insisted he buy, then hung his towel on the rack and walked out of the bathroom, ready for a good night's sleep.

Upon opening the door to his bedroom, he noticed a scrap of white paper sitting on his carpet. He plucked it up and squinted to read it.

Go downstairs.

He padded down the stairs, still clad only in the boxer shorts. A bottle of champagne stood chilling on the counter in the kitchen on a tray. Take me upstairs, a second note read.

Curious, Spike thought as he picked up the tray and walked back up the stairs. There was a note on the top step that read, Go left. This was followed, further down the hall, by a Go straight. Finally, a note that said Go left directed him to Buffy's door.

Come in, the final note, which was taped to her door, read. He balanced the tray on one hand, opening the door. His jaw dropped and his cock sprung to attention when his eyes lit on the bed. Illuminated by the soft light of close to forty white pillar candles, Buffy lay atop the covers in a decadently sheer negligee. Wisps of lace were visible beneath the gauzy fabric, concealing her breasts and mound.

Noticing belatedly that he'd been drooling, Spike snapped his mouth shut. He couldn't tear his gaze from her form as he placed the tray with the champagne on her desk.

"Like what you see?" she murmured huskily, crooking a finger at him.

Spike nodded dumbly, reeling in his restraint to prevent from leaping on her. He approached the bed and she hooked one slender finger into the waistband of his boxers, tugging him forward. He landed on the bed, rolling to his side, his eyes still on her.

"I'm through skating around the obvious UST we have going here, Spike. So I decided to do something about it." She ran one small hand across my collarbone, then down my chest, her fingernails scratching at his abdomen lightly.

"Pet..." he groaned as her hand darted beneath the silk of his boxer shorts. "Are you..." he gasped, his breath hitching as her fingers brushed his erection. He swallowed hard. "Are you sure? I mean - " He was cut off as she yanked him to her, her lips ravenously devouring his own. He was too shocked to respond for a few seconds, but then he reacted, pulling her to him and rolling her beneath him. He thrust his still silk-clad hips against hers seductively, pulling his mouth away from hers to rain kisses down her throat and across her shoulder, taking hold of one of the negligee's straps with his teeth and pulling it aside.

Spike's hand brushed against her bare thigh, his fingertips catching the hem of the negligee and, lifting himself off her momentarily, he tugged the gauzy fabric from her, leaving her clad in two scraps of black lace. His teeth and tongue worried one of her nipples through the scratchy fabric and she cried out. His mouth trailed hot, open-mouthed kisses down her belly to her navel, his tongue dipping into the small indentation as his hands deftly reached beneath her and unclasped her bra. The lacy confection was tossed across the room, landing on her lamp. "You... the taste..." he said roughly, head lowering to her breasts once more. Buffy's hands clasped his head to her breast, holding him there as he teased and carressed her flesh with his mouth.

He moved back up, his lips again latching onto hers as his left hand trailed down her stomach, teasing the flesh at the hem of her panties before dipping slightly inside. His fingers curved over her hot flesh, separating her folds and delving between them. Buffy moaned into his mouth as he thrust one long finger within her.

"Spike, please..." she cried, tearing her mouth from his.

"Shh," he soothed, "Spike's got you."

"Wha-" she complained as he was suddenly gone from her, tearing her panties off. And then the most glorious sensations began to build through her body. Her eyes finally landed on Spike, whose head was buried between her thighs.

"Spike!" she gasped, her entire body tensing. He pulled back, scrutinizing her flesh carefully. "Please," she begged desperately.

His lips latched about her clitoris and he let out a little "hmm", the vibrations shooting through her and sending her over the edge. He sucked down hard, intensifying her release.

"Oh, God..." Buffy gasped as her body convulsed. "Spike... inside..." she managed to get out.

Spike immediately sat back, wriggling out of his boxers and crawling up Buffy's still trembling form, then positioning himself at her opening. "Never let it be said," he groaned, his eyes rolling back as the tip of his cock came in contact with her wet heat, "that I said no to a lady." He thrust forward slightly, testing her, and she bucked her hips, taking more of him. Slowly, he sank within her, savoring this first entrance.

When he was completely sheathed within her, his entire form spasming with the strength of his control, he lowered his head so his mouth was next to her ear. "So good," he whispered. "Perfect fit."

Buffy mewled in agreement, clutching at him desperately as he began moving within her. He pulled back slowly, then thrust into her again, his abdomen raking her sensitive clit, and she inhaled sharply. Out again, rotating his hips. In. Out. In. Out. In out. Inoutinoutinout... Her inner muscles gripped him tightly as his rhythm sped up and he began thrusting harder and faster.

Small, high-pitched noises choked out of her with each thrust as she began to arch her back into his movements. She raked her nails down his back, climbing closer and closer to a second orgasm. His breathing was ragged and fast as he felt his sac tighten and draw up, and he wormed one hand between them, rubbing her clit and bringing her over the edge just moments before he exploded within her. He continued to pound into her as he emptied himself, stopping only when his muscles gave out and he collapsed atop her.

~*~*~*~*~

Spike awoke slowly, blearily noticing the smells of sex and Buffy that surrounded him. He glanced over at the bedside clock, he noticed that he'd slept until noon. Buffy was curled into him, her naked flesh pressed trustingly against his own. His cock was very comfortable, half-hard and still inside her.

She stirred, groaning softly as she lifted her head from his chest. Then her eyes popped open as she realized what, exactly, was inside her. She looked over at her nightstand, then back at Spike, and panicked. "Oh, shit!" She scrambled off him, running to her dresser and pulling on a tee shirt and a pair of boxers. She then turned to face him. "Do you realize what we did last night?" Her eyes were wild.

He yawned and stretched before replying sleepily, "Had the best night either of us have ever had?"

Buffy threw something at him, and he caught it before it hit his face. It was a pink, stuffed pig. "Not only did we have..." she cleared her throat, "... the best night either of us have ever had, we did it without using a condom."

It took a moment for the full implication of the words to hit him. He smiled weakly. "Oops?"

The image of a little girl with his eyes and her nose passed through his mind, followed by that of her breast-feeding an infant. He shook his head vigorously, then realized that Buffy was pacing back and forth, mumbling to herself. He caught the words "emergency birth control" and "oh my God". The dazed expression on his face was immediately replaced by a hurt one. He wiped it away as well as he could, but his eyes still conveyed his emotions. If they'd created a child last night, she didn't want it.

He got out of the bed slowly, pausing to bend down and pull on his discarded boxers. He walked over to Buffy and gently laid a hand on her shoulder. She stopped pacing and turned to look at him, wide-eyed.

"Buffy, luv, there's the possibility that even though we didn't use a condom--"

She cut him off. "Five times, Spike. Five times."

"Even though we didn't use a condom five times, you still might not be pregnant. That's the one test that the Watcher never did on me." He brushed a strand of her hair away from her face gently.

She sighed. "But what if I am? I can't be a mother, Spike. Not with all this Sacred Duty crap. I can't bring a child into this world only to leave it too early." A single tear escaped her eye and trickled down her cheek. Spike wiped it away with the pad of his thumb.

"I won't let that happen, pet." He tried to reassure her as well as myself, but the truth was that she was a Slayer and death loomed over her head. It was a hazard of being Chosen. "I can't let you die a third time. It would kill me."

"Spike, I... I can't." She pulled away from him and collapsed to the floor, sobbing. It was as if the world was crumbling all around her, and he'd never felt more helpless in his life as he watched it happen.

~*~*~*~*~

Buffy's appointment at the doctor revealed her worst fear. She was indeed pregnant. Inwardly, Spike was jumping for joy. Me. William the Bloody. A father. Outwardly, he took on the role of the protective supportive boyfriend.

They told the Scoobies when she was a month along. Willow grinned broadly, excited that she would be able to be an 'aunt.' Anya immediately declared her 'wish to procreate' to Xander, who in turn passed out. The months passed smoothly, no complications with the child had been noticed. The blonde couple shopped for their child, redecorated her bedroom in soft pastels, and moved her belongings into his own room.

Buffy's initial fear of pregnancy soon carried into a feeling of immense happiness. One night as they lay in bed, she confided in him that she had always wanted a child, but had pushed that desire far back into her mind as soon as she had been called.

They began to search through baby name books to find the perfect name for their perfect child. Finally they decided on Julia if it was a girl or Michael if it was a boy.

One night, well into her seventh month, Buffy was patrolling. A large demon got in a well-placed kick. She survived. Their child (a son, Spike later found out from the doctor), however, did not. She became catatonic. Spike took over patrolling, helped her with bathing, and fed her by hand. She grew cold and unresponsive, drawing further and further into a protective armor that she was slowly building around herself. Each night she would curl up on her side in bed, drawing her knees up to her chest, and stare at the wall. Her pain seeped out of her, until it hurt him to touch her. Something had to be done.

All through the night he formulated a plan. Dawn was now a junior in high school, the right age for his plan to work. Spike gathered materials over the next week, praying to the Powers that Be, hoping that it would bring his Buffy back to him.

One afternoon the following Friday, Dawn returned home from school carrying her backpack, purse, and a baby carrier. Inside the carrier was a mechanical doll. She greeted Buffy and Spike, then ran upstairs to her room, leaving the door opened a crack. A few minutes later, the sound of a baby wailing filled the house. It carried for about thirty seconds before halting. Dawn walked down the stairs, calmly holding the doll in her arms and a set of plastic keys in one hand.

Spike looked over at Buffy. She was crying. Finally she was showing an emotion. He rushed over to her and gathered her in his arms, holding her close and rocking her gently. Her own arms slipped up his back until she was holding him, too. They both sat on the couch, weeping bitterly for the loss of their child, for well over an hour. She finally drew back, her eyes red and swollen from her tears, and whispered two syllables.

"Thank you."

He nodded, his throat working spasmodically. "I was so afraid I was going to lose you, Buffy. I don't know if I could deal with that." He pulled her to him once more, cradling her and murmuring the words that had been running through his mind so many times, but he'd never found the courage to say out loud. "I... love you."

Tears began to flow from her irritated eyes once more. "How can you love me, Spike? I'm a horrible person. I lost our baby..." Harsh sobs broke from her throat as she cried.

"You're not horrible at all luv. I love you because you let me into your life when I stormed back here, trying to find someone to blame for my recent case of humanity." He kissed her softly. "I love you because you are beautiful," kiss, "and intelligent," kiss, "and have more heart than anyone, demon or mortal, that I have ever met. I love you because of all that, and so much more." He dropped one hand to his thigh, and encountered a square lump. Suddenly nervous, he ran his palm over the box in the pocket of his trousers. Spike's voice was shaking as he continued. "I need to know something, though, pet. I need to know if you love me too."

"Of course I do. How could you ever doubt that?" She smiled at him through her tears.

"I'm so happy to hear that pet. I... I was going to wait with this..." He pulled the velvet-covered box out of my pocket, yet she seemed oblivious. "I was wondering if you'd like to have another go at that family thing." Dropping to his knees on the carpet in front of her, he opened the jewler's box and presented it to her. "Buffy, I love you more than I've ever loved anyone in my entire life. I'm not complete unless I'm with you. When I'm awake, I think about you. When I'm asleep, I dream about you. Buffy, will you marry me?"

She lifted a trembling hand to her mouth, shocked. "I... oh, my god... I don't know what to say..."

"Just say yes, and make me the happiest man on Earth."

She flung her arms around his neck, peppering his face with kisses. "I love you I love you I love you..." she whispered. She pulled back for a moment. "Yes."

His heart swelled as he slipped the ring onto her finger.

Dawn walked into the room. "What's going on?" she asked.

"Spike and I are getting married," Buffy murmured, as if testing the words. Then, louder, "Spike and I are getting married!"

~*~*~*~*~

The next day Spike left in the morning for work. Somehow he ended up detouring through Restfield Cemetary. He stopped for a moment, then looked around, realizing that he had stopped right next to his son's tiny gravesite. He lowered his body to the grass, ran his fingertips over the cold marble of his miniature headstone, tracing the letters etched into the material. Michael William Bradford. Infant. Tears began to well up in his eyes.

He spoke, not realizing he was talking to his son until he said his name. "I'm doing right by your mum, Michael. Me an' her are gettin' hitched. I told 'er that I love her. Best feeling in the world, Michael, loving a woman like yer mum. Hope you grow up wherever you are and find that..." He plucked a few blades of grass from the well-manicured lawn, fiddling with them.

"We're gonna try to have another baby. A little brother or sister for you. I never knew you, never got to see your face, but I miss you so much. I can't 'elp but wonder if you would've been tall, short, if you'd 'ave had your mum's eyes..." he trailed off, clearing his throat. "She misses you too, Michael. I... I'll always remember the look on her face when she found out she was gonna have a baby. She didn't want it at first, but I knew that she would be a good mum. She figured it out too. Got all excited..."

He took a deep, shuddering breath. "I came back to the cemetary the next night. Took care of the monster that took you away from us. Felt better for awhile. I guess... after awhile, it'll stop 'urting. At least maybe it'll 'urt less." He stopped, trying to think of more to say. Couldn't. So he walked off, leaving the little gravesite of the son he never knew.

End

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