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Thing of Doom

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And the truth is plain to see

                -Procol Harum, “A Whiter Shade of Pale”



They’d made it to the bed.


Buffy was on her back, clothes gone, with her hair mussed and Spike on top of her. His duster, boots, and shirt were gone, but he still had his jeans on. How very William of him. Her hands were running up and down his back and her mouth was glued to his.

Spike had his arms around her and was pressing his entire body tight against hers. Like he was afraid she was going to disappear. Finally, she managed to break the kiss. “Are you okay?” she panted.

“ don’t know. Need you.” He tried to capture her lips again, but she turned her head and his mouth went to her throat instead.

“Spike, uhh-“

He’d found Demon’s fang marks and started sucking on them while rocking his hips harder against her. A freight train of white hot lust seared its way from where his mouth was on her neck to crash into her mound as it rubbed against the front of his pants.

Abruptly he stilled.

“Hey,” she said weakly.

Spike’s tongue flicked over the bite mark and she moaned. “Why’d you let me do this?” he whispered against her throat.

“Because you wanted to, and it was important to you.”

“But, weren’t you afraid?”

Her hand went to his cheek. “No, it was you. You wouldn’t hurt me.”

“Demon, was, well…a soulless demon.”

Buffy sighed. “I know, but I still trusted you not to do something that would upset or hurt me or William.”

Spike closed his eyes. “Thank you.”

She gently petted the nape of his neck. Her brow creased. “Spike…” He gazed down at her. “Are you afraid of me? That I might hurt you?”

He bowed his head so it was resting against her shoulder. There was a pause before he nodded.  

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I can only show you, day after day, that I won’t.” She sucked in a deep breath. “As much as I hated it, maybe it was a good thing I grieved for you for as long as I did. I couldn’t hide from what I was feeling and I sure did spend a lot of time imagining what it’d be like if you were given back to me. Though I never got even close to what actually happened.”

Spike snorted. “And what did you imagine, luv?”

“Not so much talking.”

He chuckled. “Is that right?”

“Less pants, too, William,” she pouted.

Spike shook his head. He rolled them so they were on their sides. His eyes widened slightly and his face softened. “Miss Buffy,” his voice took on the higher pitch and more formal tone of William’s speech. “Without me and Demon being here, I am rather concerned that you will not be as…fulfilled as you have become used to being over the last little while.”

Spike rolled over again, so she was on her other side. He was wearing his demon face. Gently, he ran a claw down her cheek and cooed softly.

With an effort she returned to her back with Spike on top of her. The demon features melted away.

“I want you,” Buffy whispered. “I want Spike, however I can get you. If you need me to I’ll run to the roof of this building and scream that I love you into the night. I’ll paint that I belong to you onto my body and walk naked down Hollywood Boulevard. I’ll make love to you at midnight on Venice Beach. But there’s one thing I’ll never do…”

He raised his scarred eyebrow.

“I’ll never let you go.”

“Oh god, Buffy.” He trembled beneath her hands. “I don’t want you to do anything but be here with me now, luv.”

His mouth claimed hers again as her hands eased between their bodies and worked his fly open. Using her feet, she pushed his jeans down and off. With a deft twist of his hips he plunged his cock to the hilt inside her.

She wrapped her legs securely around him as he pressed every inch of skin he could against her. Their palms pressed together and their fingers intertwined. So tightly were they entangled that Spike could do little more than rock his hips while she squeezed him in rhythm with her inner muscles. Buffy could barely tell where she ended and he began.

“I love you,” she moaned into his mouth, over and over, rejoicing each time he repeated it back to her.

Her thighs trembled and she came, fireworks popping behind her eyelids. Spike adjusted them so his knees were braced better and he could pull back a few inches before slamming into her. The headboard rapped against the wall, an exclamation point to each frenzied thrust.

Panting harshly, she came again, a litany of ‘I love you’s continuing to fall from her lips.

Spike returned each one, the volume increasing as his climax approached. Buffy was breathing raggedly and milking his cock hard with the walls of her pussy.

With a low, guttural moan he came, thrusting a few more times before collapsing on her and lying still even as his cock still twitched inside her.

She ran her hands up and down his spine. Marveling that he was real, that he was there with her. For whatever magic, done by whomever, that had split Spike, Buffy was entirely grateful. Without it, even if he’d regained his body some other way, she had the horrible, sinking feeling that he would have listened to his own insecurities and Angel’s poisoned words. Without having been transformed into William and Demon, Spike may never have demanded to see her. The thought made her both sad and angry.

But those were only hypothetical what-ifs that didn’t matter right now. The important part was the purring vampire with the goofy grin who was lying in her arms.

The one she loved.

The one in all the world she was going to spend forever with.

The one that made her feel complete.


Six weeks later.

Ugh. She felt gross. This was the third morning in a row she’d woken up and immediately puked her guts up. She’d been a lot more tired than usual as well. It’d been years since she’d been sick. At first Buffy had thought it was food poisoning, but now she was starting to get worried.

Spike was frantic.

She could hear him on the phone as she leaned against the bathroom wall and waited for the waves of nausea to pass.

He came into the tiny bathroom of their basement apartment and handed her the phone. Crouching beside her, worry etched into every line of his face, he gently touched her forehead. “It’s Willow,” he said.

“Hello?” she said into the cell.

“Hi Buffy!” Willow sounded way too cheery for whatever time of the morning it was. “Spike was sort of desperate and garbled, what’s wrong?”

“I’ve got some bug.”

“Can you describe the symptoms?”

“I’ve been tired and I’ve tossed cookies the last couple of mornings.”

“Huh. And you have no idea at all as to what could be wrong?”

“No, it’s kind of scary because I haven’t been sick since I got the flu junior year.”

Willow sighed. “Look, I’m going to pop in for a few minutes to check you over and do a witchy thing to help diagnosis you. Do you think you could pee in a cup for me?”

“Eww, gross.” She wrinkled her nose. “Do I have to?”

“Yes, it’ll make things easier for me. See you in a few.”

“Bye.” Buffy hung up the phone.

“What’d she say?” Spike worriedly asked. He looked almost as bad as she felt.

“She’s going to come and examine me and I have to pee in a cup.”

“Witch thing?”

“Witch thing.”

Ten minutes later they were sitting on the love seat when Willow appeared with a snap of magical energy. She shook her head and turned to face them. “There you are. Did you do what I asked?”

“Um, I left it on the counter by the sink.”

Willow, who’d brought the scent of jasmine incense with her, strode into the bathroom. The odor made Buffy’s stomach queasy again and she slipped onto Spike’s lap and pushed her nose against his neck so that he was the only thing she could smell.

A few seconds later Willow walked back out with a silly grin on her face.


Buffy frowned. “What? Is there nothing wrong with me?”

“Nothing that about nine months won’t cure.”

Buffy glanced up at Spike, but he looked as confused as her.

“Just spit it out, Red, you’re killing us.”

Willow looked heavenward. “Buffy, you’re pregnant.”

“What?” Her face paled. “I can’t be pregnant!” she said at the same time Spike jumped to his feet, nearly dumping her on her ass.

“What the hell is going on?” he roared at her.

“Willow,” Buffy pleaded. “You have to be wrong. I haven’t been with anyone but Spike for years.”

Willow massaged her temples. “You remember the guy with the heartbeat and glasses that you were all over about a month and a half ago?”

Huh? What was Willow talking about? Six weeks ago had been Demon and...

“Oh my god!” Her heart leapt into her throat. This was real. She slapped Spike on the chest. “You got me pregnant.”

“I did?” He looked down like his dick might answer.

Willow sighed deeply. “Spike, I don’t suppose that, as William, you remembered to run to the nearest convenience store and stock up on condoms before going at it like crazy with the girl you’d been missing terribly.”

“Oh.” He looked sheepish. “Uh, no.” Buffy locked eyes with him and she knew her face probably matched his own goofy expression as she quickly replayed a number of situations in her head, any one of which could have resulted in her getting knocked up. Spike’s eyes suddenly got very wide. “You’re pregnant!” he blurted and wrapped himself around her.

“What’re you doing?” She pushed ineffectively at his chest.

He hugged her tighter. “I’ve got to protect you and the wee bit.”

“By smothering me?”

“Uh,” Willow said. “I’m just going to go and let you guys work this out. I’ll come visit in a couple of months and we can have a mall day to shop for maternity clothes.”

“Maternity clothes?”

Willow smiled enigmatically and disappeared.

Jeans with elastic waists and shirts that looked more like tarps danced in front of her eyes. Buffy’s stomach started to rebel again. “Spike, let me go.”

“No! Going to keep you safe.”

“I need to barf.”

He quickly released her, though he followed approximately two millimeters behind her and loving held her hair while she heaved.

It was going to be a very long nine months.


A year later.

Buffy stood in the doorway to the nursery, leaning back against Spike’s chest. His arms were wrapped around her and he was nuzzling her neck.

William Jr., who had his dad’s bright blue eyes, high cheekbones, and sandy curls (but her toes) was peacefully sleeping, and drooling—also just like his dad—on Angel’s shoulder. Angel himself had nodded off while leaning back in the rocking chair.

After the fiasco at the church, Angel’s team had determined that he was simply an idiot, not a threat. They’d turned their backs on him and he’d disappeared into the streets of Los Angeles.

It’d taken all of Gunn’s legal know-how, but eventually everyone had been released from their contracts with Wolfram and Hart. They’d returned to the Hyperion and begun to build a new life, still trying to help those in need.

Spike had liberated a few things from the Wolfram and Hart vault and used the money to buy a house down the coast from Los Angeles. It was a good place to raise a family. The next town over had a very small hellmouth, just enough to keep things interesting without dumping endless apocalypses on their doorstep.

When Buffy had been seven months pregnant and grouchy as a grizzly bear, not to mention feeling roughly the size of an elephant, she’d opened the door early one evening to find a half-starved Angel on her doorstep.

He’d looked near skeletal and had barely been able to string two words together, but eventually he’d managed to ask if they had any blood he could have.

To her surprise, Spike had invited him in. Family, she’d had to remind herself.

Angel had showered and she’d laundered his clothes, which had stunk to high heaven. Spike had pressed mug after mug of blood on him until Angel had politely refused. He’d then slept for three days.

When he’d awoken, he’d again said very little besides thanking them. His eyes had kept darting to her pregnant belly and finally she’d asked him if he wanted to touch. Angel had nodded, kneeling before her and lightly laying his hand over where she said the baby’s feet where. He’d closed his eyes and when the baby had kicked he’d began to weep. Brokenly, Angel had managed to relay the entire story of Conner to them.

Buffy had been shocked.

Spike had squeezed his grandsire’s hands at the end and had offered to drive him to L.A. after nightfall. Reluctantly, the old team had given Angel permission to live at the hotel and start helping.

Angel remained quiet, going about his duties in near silence. Initially, Fred had been weirded out and she and Buffy, who talked nearly daily on the phone, worried about him. But in the end they’d concluded that Angel might actually have learned something.

The oddest thing was that Angel had started driving down once a week to have dinner with her and Spike. Angel still hardly spoke, but afterwards he’d go out and patrol with Spike before returning to the city.

When the baby had come, with a lot of yelling and screaming—most of which had been Buffy’s—Spike, of course, had been on cloud nine. He’d taken to dragging every nurse, doctor, and sanitation worker he could find into the hospital room to proudly point out how wonderful his son was. It’d been a relief to go home. Not that she didn’t agree that William was the best baby ever.

Angel had been delighted. Holding the little guy was the first time Buffy had seen him smile in months. Once a week he still faithfully appeared, only now he stayed with little William while Spike and she ran around the local cemeteries. Which really didn’t take that long, so there was also a lot of lovemaking in the moonlight on the beach.

“Do you think he misses Conner?” Spike whispered, pulling her back to the here and now.

“Yeah, I do. The thought that one day Will’s going to grow up and drive a car and go to college terrifies me. I can’t imagine missing a single day between now and then.”

Spike’s hands tightened against her. “Me either. I want every moment I can with Tod.”

“Would you quit calling him that,” she groaned. “He’s going to end up with a complex.”

“Nope.” Spike kissed the side of her neck, making her knees weak.

It’d started as a joke when she’d been pregnant, that the baby was the “Thing of Doom” since it was going to change their lives so much. Eventually ‘Thing of Doom’ had been shortened to the initials T.O.D. and then just flat out Tod. Spike had even tried to get her to use it as the baby’s middle name. She’d refused and the birth certificate read: William Pratt, Jr.

Spike still called him Tod. And so did everyone else, except Buffy.

“You ready for the old man to come and visit tomorrow?” Spike asked between kisses.

Giles was flying in to see her. He didn’t know about Tod…er, William. So that was going to be interesting. It’d taken Buffy a long time to be able to forgive Giles enough to want to see him, and surprisingly it’d been Spike that had given her the final push to call and invite her Watcher. Making peace with Angel had made him want to help her heal her relationships as well.

On the phone Giles had sounded so happy. He’d probably never say it, but he’d obviously missed her.

William stirred and Angel immediate woke up. The baby’s face screwed up as he prepared to howl.

“That’s your cue,” Spike said with a chuckle. “The Thing of Doom wants his nummies.”

The doorbell rang as Angel handed William to her. She pulled the front of her shirt aside and the baby eagerly started drinking. He was always such a hungry little thing, even though he already had the most adorable round cheeks and chubby thighs.

Buffy knew without a doubt she had the cutest baby on the planet.

“We weren’t expecting you until tomorrow,” Spike’s voice carried loudly down the hallway.

“I was able to catch an earlier flight.” Giles’ familiar clipped tone made her smile.  Angel, however, looked panicked and Buffy waved a hand to indicate he should head out the back door. With a grateful nod he vanished.

“Well, mate, it’s lucky the little bugger was already awake or I would have had your hide for ringing the doorbell this late.”

“Whatever are you talking about? Is Buffy here?”

“She’ll be out in minute, why don’t you sit down and take a load off?”

When William finished she straightened her clothes, burped him, and carried him out into the living room. Giles was sitting on the couch, discussing something about Slayer recruitment with Spike, who looked bored to tears.

Spike saw her and lit up. “There they are!”

“They?” Giles turned and his mouth dropped open. Fumbling, he pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and cleaned his glasses.

William was happily gurgling and kicking his legs.

“You should be asleep, young man,” Spike told him sternly, chucking him under the chin.

Giles was looking frantically between Will and Spike. Buffy waited, because they really did look alike. Even Giles couldn’t doubt who Will’s father was.

“Good Lord, you had a baby,” Giles finally said, weakly.

Buffy grinned and carefully handed William to Giles. Her Watcher looked down at the little boy, stunned. William tried out one of his new smiles and waved his hands at Giles.

“Oh,” Buffy exclaimed. “He likes you!”

Giles visibly melted. “I’m certain he’s a very smart young man.”

Spike’s fingers found hers and squeezed. “Of course he is! And out of all of them, Tod here really turned out to be the very best Thing of Doom.”




Two years later...

The telly was on low, showing the local news and weather. It sounded like it might rain, which their yard desperately needed.

Spike chuckled to himself.

 O, how the mighty had fallen.

He’d become so domesticated that he took the trash out without being asked every Tuesday night.

And he’d thought the bloody chip had tamed him. That bit of plastic and wires had nothing on his own heartstrings.

There was high-pitched squeal from the direction of the bathroom.

“Will, get back here this instant and get dressed!” Buffy hollered as Tod, on his chubby toddler legs, careened into the living room. He had the shirt to his pajamas on, but was naked from the waist down.

Spike raised an eyebrow at his son. “I know how you feel, mate.”  Quickly he scooped the boy up, kissed his damp mop of curls, and deposited him on the far side of the ottoman. “Now crouch down or she’ll find you.”

“ ‘ide n seek?” Tod asked, grinning delightedly.

“Just so.” Spike sat back down on the couch, picked up the copy of Shawshank Redemption he’d been reading, and put a foot up on the ottoman.

“Will?” Buffy called again. She walked into the living room and put her hands on her hips. She eyed Spike. “I don’t suppose you’ve seen our son anywhere, have you?”

He didn’t look up from his book. “Can’t say that I have. Did you lose him again?”

She huffed.

Giggles erupted from behind the ottoman.

“No idea at all where a little, half-naked boy could be?” She crossed her arms, but a smile was playing around her lips.


The giggles got louder.

“I think you might be fibbing.” Buffy raised her voice slightly. “Do you think Daddy’s fibbing?”

Tod popped up, his hands over his mouth like he could keep the giggles in that way. “Daddy fibbin’!”

Spike put his book down and leaned forward. “You trying to get me in trouble with your mum?”

Tod’s face fell. “She spank you?” he asked, looking anxious.

“I don’t know. You going to spank me for fibbing, pet?” He tried to sound innocent.

“Just you wait.”

He liked the sound of that. Spike winked at her and to his delight she blushed. Apparently his Slayer was having a few naughty thoughts of her own. 

Tod held his arms out to him and he picked his son up. “Mummy’s not really mad,” he reassured the boy. “And for someone who’s never even got a proper telling off, you worry far too much about spankings.”

Tod yawned and sleepily put his arms around Spike’s neck. “Daddy read?”

“You going to put your pants on?”

The boy made a face, then nodded. “The one ‘bout the pirate?”

“Aye, matey.” Spike had read the book so many times he had it memorized, but he’d read it a thousand more if Tod wanted him to.

Buffy kissed both him and the boy. “Be good for Daddy, Will. I love you.” She laid a hand on Spike’s arm. “I’ll get the dishes.”

He leaned in close to her. “Then spankings?” he whispered and briefly traced the outer shell of her ear with his tongue.

Buffy trembled. “Only if you’re very, very good.”