Spike's Heart (spikes_heart) wrote,
Spike's Heart

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Spuffy Kinkathon Fic Post - Away In A Graveyard

Author: Spike’s Heart
Email: spikes_heart@yahoo.com
URL: Heartsongs
Pairing: Duh! Spike/Buffy
Rating: A laughable PG
Disclaimer: Didn’t create ‘em. Don’t own ‘em. Wish I did.
Feedback: Yes, please!
Beta’d by: moxie_fic

Spuffykinkathon requirements:
Written For: appomattoxco
The Kink: Baby fic
Three other requests: Post NFA, Giles or Xander shocking everyone with how good they are with the baby. Clem visiting.
Up to two restrictions: The actual pregnancy.
Rating preference: Up to R.

Away In a Graveyard

Somehow, he’d managed to survive the onslaught from hell in Los Angeles. Gunn was gone, as was Percy. Illyria had vanished; just popped out of sight after it was all over. As for Angel? Spike shot his erstwhile Sire a look, nodded, and took off… relieved that this chapter in their unlives was over for now. He headed for the docks determined once and for all to face his own inner demons.


It took far longer than he’d originally anticipated. Between earning money and finding passage on various ships, not to mention the unmanly wussing out that took place every couple of months when he felt sure that Buffy would be better off without him

Spike sat at the bar in one of the seedier demon dives in Rome, humming an old melody and running the words around in his head: The battle’s done and we kinda won, so we’ll sound our victory cheer. Where do we go from here?

He’d heard the rumors of the crazy Slayer, of course. Demons were a notorious bunch of gossips who would rival fishmongers’ wives any day of the week. The tales they told of a fanatical killer who stalked the cemeteries in Rome night after night had the vampires steering clear.

“That one’s psycho,” was overheard from a dark corner; the vampire tossing back a drink and shuddering.

His companion agreed. “Yeah, it’s like she’s looking for a type – blond and thin – and after the mumbling and stalking, she goes all Rambo on ‘em.”

Oh shit!

Spike’s forearms twinged as the memory of Dana’s rampage juddered through him. What if the poor loony had gotten free from…? It sounded like good old Watcher’s Council security was none the better under Rupert’s rule than it had been under its old school management.

Not that he was anxious to go up against the chit again, and certainly not since she’d been seeking out vamps who matched his general description… but he owed it… no, it was the right thing to do. “Forewarned is forearmed,” he snickered grimly to himself.

He paid his tab and left, having nothing to take with him but the clothes on his back which he’d ‘liberated’ from some sod’s laundry line. Figuring there was no time like the present, Spike headed for the nearest graveyard. With any luck, he’d find a nice, cozy crypt to hole up in after a cursory patrol.


“Here, vampy, vampy,” Buffy sing-songed, twirling the stake in her hand. Her tone was light but the look in her eyes was nearly as feral as the prey she stalked night after inexorable night. “Aw, c’mon, fellas. No need to hide. Time to party. I’ll bring the stake and you bring the side dish - dust.”

Buffy pouted. Obviously the undead had other plans for the evening. There was no reason for the elder stateswoman of slayers to patrol as vigorously as she still did – plenty of the younger girls were available and eager to take over the job. However Buffy still made it her priority to head out solo into the cemeteries after making sure all was well at home.

She’d finally given up and made the decision to call it a night and head on home when her spidey sense fired a warning tingle that resonated from the base of her spine to the nape of her neck. No ordinary fledge but a vampire of some age and considerable power was playing peek-a-boo with her amongst the headstones.

“This goes well past being fashionably late, buster,” she taunted, scoping out the cemetery in hopes of spotting her stalker. “All the other little vampires are tucked away in their nice, cold crypts and you’re being all demon-come-lately.” Buffy sighed. Really, she’d had enough of this crap. Time to go home and get some beauty sleep and…

The moonlight provided her the first glimpse of her prey. Great! Another bleached blond. Just what I needed as a capper to my lousy night.

“All right, wanna-be big bad. Let’s see what you’ve got.”


Spike felt the little frisson at the base of his skull that indicated SLAYER! and his senses went on red alert. Dealing with Dana would take all his concentration if he wanted to keep his bits and bobs along with any other appendages intact this time, especially with no backup forthcoming.

He spotted her weaving amongst the tombstones, obviously alerted to the fact that he was there. The same early warning system he had going for him was running riot through her system, showing in her stiff posture and hunting demeanor. Her words drifted to him as he neared.

…big bad. Let’s see what you’ve got.

The vampire stilled. Something was off here. He could make out the chit’s dark hair and feral stance, but it wasn’t quite as he remembered. This one was small and thin, where Dana had been stockier. In fact… no, it couldn’t be that simple after all this time…


Her name had scarcely passed his lips when Spike found himself on the ground under a hundred pounds of well-muscled Slayer, stake poised above his heart.

“Shut up, vampire!” she snarled, digging the point of the stake into his chest. “You’re closer than most, I’ll give you that much, but you’ll go poof just as easy.”

Somehow, Spike had always known keeping his resurrection a secret was going to find a way to bite him on the ass. Or in this case, stake him good and proper. One wrong move and he’d never get a chance to explain or apologize. Looking into her eyes, he realized that was a distinct possibility no matter what he did.

“Please, pet. Hold up on the stake for a moment. We need to talk.”

The look in Buffy’s eyes wasn’t exactly lucid. Spike was sure that while she was looking at him, she wasn’t seeing him, and he had to get through to her… fast.

“Slay – Buffy… who am I? Who do you see when you look at me?”

She stared at him, tightening the grip of her thighs as she shifted her body’s position across Spike’s hips. “A fake,” she whispered, the stake jiggling a bit in her shaking hand. “Another bloody copycat. Another damned disappointment.”

“And if I told you I was really here, that you’re seein’ the real Spike… what would it take to prove myself to you?”

“T-talk to me,” she stammered. “It always falls apart when they open their mouths.”

Spike raised his hand slowly, bringing it up to brush a lock of hair behind Buffy’s ear. “See you’ve quit dyin’ your hair. Not my little Goldilocks no more.”

The nickname garnered nothing more than a slight flinch of the woman’s shoulders.

“Looks more like little sis’ hair this way. How’s Niblet doin’?”

Again the stake wavered at the use of his old pet name for Dawn, scratching a small bloody path on Spike’s pectoral. “What do you know of her?” she hissed.

“Know she probably still has a hate on for me ‘bout what happened between us in Sunnyhell. Doubt she ever got over hearin’ it from droopy boy.” Spike was rapidly losing his confidence. The look in his Slayer’s eyes hadn’t shown a spark of recognition since she’d first pinned him to the ground. He had to change things, and now.

Using an old, familiar move, Spike rolled his hips, unsettling Buffy from her perch, and used the distraction to flip their positions; knocking the stake far from her hand as he pinned her to the ground.

“Listen to me, love. I can tell you about punchin’ the blonde witchlet in front of her kin and remind you of sharing hot chocolate with your mum in the kitchen. Bad things, too – you spyin’ on me an’ Anya and… and… the fallout from it all. My burning death in the soddin’ hellmouth. What you said to me as I turned to ash. I’ve still got m’soul, an’ I still love you. I can’t make you believe. You’re going to have to take a leap of faith, here, and trust me.” He stared down into Buffy’s hazel eyes, still flat and unemotional, and despaired of ever being able to reach her. “Will you trust me?” he begged, sliding to the ground next to the trembling woman.

“Never,” she whispered, eyes closing and body going slack beneath his. “Always.”

“What did you say?” he demanded, turning to face her square on.

This time Buffy’s eyes sparkled. She knew. Beyond a shadow of a doubt she knew who she was looking at. Spike crowed with delight.

“It really is you, isn’t it?”

Spike nodded. “In the undead flesh.”

“But… how? The reports from LA said everyone died during the battle. That you… that you’d died again.”

“You knew…” the nervous vampire swallowed convulsively. “…that I was back? Did puppy boy tell you?”

“Puppy? Oh! Andrew, right?” She smiled wickedly. Clambering to her feet, she pulled Spike up after her. “Yeah, he told me after it was all over. “Let’s just say he won’t hide anything from me ever again. As for you, Mister…” she scolded, waggling her fingers in his face, “…you’ve got some heavy-duty ‘splaining to do.”

A delighted smile crossed his own countenance. Buffy was alert and herself once more, and happy to see him. He couldn’t have asked for a better opening.

“So now what, pet? We gonna stand here in the cemetery until the sun rises?”

“How about a nice, slow walk back to my place. You can fill me in on the details of your return from the dust bowl.” Concern clouded her features. “It wasn’t like me, was it? Nobody took you out of…?”

Spike shook his head. “No such luck. For whatever it’s worth, one moment m’burnin’ up, an’ the next I’m in the middle of the Grand Poof’s office, surrounded by his mates.” He nudged her gently with his elbow. “Let’s head on to your place, and I’ll fill you in.”

She looked at him, hands skimming over his body like little bird’s wings, never quite making contact… unsure as to whether her touch would be welcomed.

Like the gentleman he still was deep down inside, Spike extended his elbow, and linked her arm in his, smiling broadly when she didn’t resist in the slightest. Together, they headed off to her place.


The closer they got to her front door, the more jittery Buffy became. She wanted to believe it was just the shock of Spike actually being here that was causing her to shake, but she knew better. Well, since he’s here… and they’re here… it’s now or never, right?

“Hey, honey… I’m home,” she called out to Andrew from the doorway. When he caught sight of her companion, his complexion paled by several shades. It was so worth the price of admission.

As giddy as she felt, watching Spike step over the threshold without needing an invitation hit her hard. He’d really been here all those months ago. He and Angel, in her apartment. So many things would have been different if only she had known… but that was water under the bridge. Best to move on.

“Gee, Andrew,” she teased. “You look like death warmed over. Everything okay while I’ve been patrolling?”

“Everything’s all quiet on the home-front. S-since when do cemeteries offer take home?” he stammered, looking warily at the vampire. “Honest, Spike, I k-kept my word. I didn’t say anything for weeks. When the whole demon hordes thing went down and we found out you were all gone…”

Andrew’s dissembling was interrupted by a loud mewling coming from a back room. A quick look at first Spike, then Buffy, had him scurrying away, leaving Buffy with her eyes downcast, avoiding Spike’s gaze.

“What the bloody hell is going on here, love?”

Buffy took in Spike’s expectant face and knew her façade of happy, shiny girl was about to crumble. She couldn’t handle the long explanation necessary now, nor the disappointment that would probably follow. Unnerved from finding Spike in the first place, Buffy did the one thing she’d always been good at.

“Look, Spike. I-I can’t do this right now. We’ll talk, I promise… but I’ve got to get out of here.” She scrambled to her feet and raced off in the direction Andrew had flown.


Thanks to vampire hearing, Spike heard her break down and cry when she’d reached what he assumed was her bedroom. It killed him, but he stayed his feet. She’d promised to talk to him later, and that had to be good enough for now.

Spike quickly refocused his attention when Andrew brought in the source of the original caterwauling. Nestled in his arms was an infant, about three months old. No sooner had he settled into an easy chair to feed the little one, when the door opened to reveal… Xander and Clem.

“Hey, boychik,” the brunet called out as he strode directly over to the easy chair. “I brought your old pal Clem along for some manly bonding.” Xander ruffled the boy’s hair before turning around and freezing in his tracks.

“Ummm, Andrew? The First just decided to stop by uninvited for a house-call and you didn’t think to tell anyone? Does Buffy know?”

The young man giggled. “Silly man. Do you think I’d be sitting here so calmly if that was the First? Been there, done that, and lived to tell the tale. It’s our Spike in all his corporeal glory.”

“Spike!” he managed to say with only a slight, very manly squeak. “Aren’t you supposed to be like… dead? Not in that ‘ash at the bottom of the Hellmouth’ way, ‘cause we’d heard you’d pulled a Houdini from that, but in that ‘didn’t escape from the legions of hell’ way from Los Angeles?”

Ah, good times. “Still dead and kickin’, git. Sorry to disappoint.” Spike smiled, surprised at how much the old Xander babble warmed his heart. He’d missed it – missed them all – more than he would ever admit. “And I see you’ve managed to unearth Clem. What brings you to Roma, mate?”

“Ah, Spike, buddy. It’s so good to see you,” the floppy skinned demon grabbed Spike in a bear-hug, patting him on the back. “I figured it was as good a time as any to visit some relatives, and I heard some things through the grapevine about… have you evenseen your girl yet?”

Spike nodded, too dumbstruck by Harris the demon hater/magnet showing up with Clem on an obviously voluntary basis for an evening of babysitting the Slayer’s child to refute the ‘his girl’ comment. It was all a little surreal, even for him.

Andrew burped the little one, and handed him over to Xander.

“Guess we’re gonna have to come up with a new nickname for ya, Spike. Somehow Deadboy, Jr. is just too passé, and Fangless? Well, not so much since the Buffster re-fanged you years ago.” He gently nuzzled his face against the baby’s head. “What do you think, munchkin? How does Uncle Phoenix strike you?”

Xander held the baby against his chest, one hand spanning his entire back. The little boy snuffled and squirmed, snuggling to find a more comfortable position on Xander’s broad’s shoulder, quieted, then began to squirm again, probably protesting the tension in the air around him.

Spike couldn’t take his eyes off the child. “Can I… hold him?”

Xander nodded, shifting the child from his shoulders to Spike’s arms, surprising the vampire with his gentleness and trust. “She named him William, by the way. Thought you should know.”

Looking from the child to Xander and back again, he asked: “Is he yours, Harris?” almost dreading the answer. Spike always knew the man had a thing for the Slayer that had never faded away, even though she’d never reciprocated his feelings. The baby’s dark, wavy, curls and complexion could have marked him as Xander’s son… but the hazel eyes and nose were definitely his mum’s.

“Don’t think I don’t wish with all that’s in me that I was Will’s father.” The man shook his head, regret marring his face. “It was bad, Spike. Buffy was a mess. After she’d found out you’d come back and died yet again, and that Andrew and Giles knew about it, she had a breakdown. She dumped the Immortal’s ass, and if I never say thank you for anything ever again, let me do it now for being the instigator of that break up. He skeeved us all out… all smarmy and perfect, the big lug.”

The vampire snorted, amused and relieved that at least one other person hated the ponce as much as he did. Anything was better than another simpering female extolling the Immortal’s… virtues. Looking at the brunet’s expression, he could tell the tale wasn’t going to be pretty.

“Buffy started drinking and hitting the bars after patrolling. She learned to hold her booze… then went way over her limit. I suppose you two used to go at it in the strangest places, right? She seemed hell-bent on recreating them with every Tomas, Dick, and Ramone she could get her hands on. She had a tendency to pick guys up and get her kicks in the alleyways behind the bars – two, sometimes three on a bad night. Gods, she’d make a point of coming home and telling us about each and every guy she’d screwed, muttering something about no more secrets.

“We tried everything to get her to stop but she’d have none of it, or us. With Dawn away at school, Buffy did as she pleased and answered to nobody. And then… she started drinking before patrols. She got scary, man, let me tell you. It was just like looking for hook-ups in the bars, only this time she made a point of looking for blonds. You don’t find many blond vampires in Italy, ya know. Sorta swarthy as a people here, but if she found one, she’d hunt him down and talk to him then poof him!

“Eventually, Buffy found out she was pregnant. One of the blond fang brigade got close enough to slip a fang into her and let her know; taunting her about being a full course meal with an extra helping of dessert.”

“Any clue as to the sprog’s papa?”

“Your guess is as good as any of ours, Spike. Gotta figure that’s why Buffy’s not out here now. It wasn’t her finest moment, and even though we’ve all done our best to support her, she’s deeply embarrassed.” He reached across the vampire to tickle Will’s belly, eliciting happy gurgles from the infant. “You’re not gonna give her a hard time over this, are you?”

“Yeah, Harris,” Spike snorted, finding it hard to keep the bitterness out of his voice. “Like I’m the one who’s given the girl a hard time about her choices in the past.”

At least Xander had the good graces to blush in acknowledgment of his past judgmental nature. One thing Spike did have was a point with his barb.

“The Slayer of Vampyres wouldn’t stop hunting,” Andrew chimed in, finally managing to get a word in edgewise. “I used to follow her because someone had to watch out for her and the bambino. She certainly didn’t. Seven and a half months pregnant and she went into active labor in-between the headstones.” He puffed up his chest, practically preening. “I called an ambulance on my trusty cellphone. Told them she was visiting a lost family member when her water broke.

“She appointed me little William’s protector. I’ve been his fair Knight, always at the ready to do battle to defend him from those who wish him harm.” He looked up to see Spike and Xander staring at him as if he’d grown a second head, and quietly sat down next to the vampire and child, gently running his fingers through William’s soft brown curls. “I’ve kept them both safe for you,” he whispered, risking a glance at Spike.

Clem kept out of the way, sitting on the couch quietly munching from a bag of corn chips, watching everyone else fawn over the baby. Spike had the oddest feeling that he, too, was there primarily on the vampire’s behalf; sort of looking out for his Slayer.


Leaving the baby with Andrew, Spike knocked gently on the bedroom door. “They’ve all gone home, Buffy. Let me in?”

Buffy opened her door. Lifting her tear stained face slowly she found herself unable to meet his eyes.

“He’s beautiful, love.”

That’s all it took for her to lose whatever self-control she’d spent the last few hours gathering as she broke into fresh tears.

“J-just don’t look at me,” she whimpered, knowing the mess she must look like.

Spike chuckled, lifting her chin from where she tucked it against her chest. “Enough of this pity party, you silly cow. I just told you the sprout’s as good lookin’ as his mum. What’s there to bawl about?”

“I’m sure they told you all about me,” she sniffled. “‘Buffy the skanky ho!’ ‘Buffy the vampire slut!’ Buffy who couldn’t keep her legs closed long enough to…”

Spike’s fingers against her lips stilled her rant.

“Hush, now,” he soothed. “The shagfest is over, right?”

She nodded, unable to speak for the moment.

“No more tauntin’ the poor little vamps? Back to quipping and staking?”

More nodding.

“Then there’s no more to be said, except… William?"

“My sweet angel, William.” Buffy’s eyes softened as she thought of her son, before poking Spike in the chest with her finger. “You... you... big, shirty, JERK! Yes, he's named after you. You have no idea how much... how badly... What took you so damned long to come back to me?”

Sighing, he gathered her unresisting form into his arms. “When it came to you, love, I was a coward, plain and simple. Was afraid you really didn’t mean those last words you said to me – at least not in the way I needed you to mean them.”

“Stupid vampire.” Buffy closed her eyes, burrowing in closer to Spike’s embrace. “No more leaving me, okay? Death is not an excuse. Neither one of us seems to have gotten the knack of actually staying dead, and I’m in no hurry to master it. You?”

Spike’s response was to tighten his arms around her, unwilling to let her go.

They sat for hours, murmuring nothing and everything to each other, which is how Andrew found them when he brought William in for a diaper change.

Buffy smiled, more content than she’d been for ages. She might not know what the future had in store for her, but at least she wouldn’t have to go it alone, and neither would her son. Not with Spike by their sides.

Done and done! Now all I have to do is pray that appomattoxco likes the bloody thing, and then my day will be complete. **prays really, really hard**
Tags: fic
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