~PBiB : Spike Fic : Daddy~

Chapter One

March 29, 2003

Dear Diary,

I think it's been a week since I last wrote in you. But that's ok. We had a game yesterday, and my team won. Robbie scored two goals, and that made him really annoying. He was running around saying "I'm so good, I'm so good!" and the Kiersten told him, "No, you're so bad!" and we all laughed. It was funny. But his feelings weren't hurt or anything. It was alright.

I'm over at Mr. Giles' house again today. He's got lots of weird books with funny pictures. There was one book with all these naked ladies in it, but it was like drawings, not picture pictures. I told him that one of the boys in my class got into trouble for drawing pictures like that, but they weren't as real looking, and he blushed. Mr. Giles blushed, just like Kiersten does. But then he took the book away and tried to get me to watch the telly. I don't want to watch television. He doesn't, Daddy doesn't. T.V. is boring. There's nothing good. The pictures aren't even interesting. Well, except when they show Sailor Moon on Cartoon Network. I love Luna and Artemis. I want cats just like them, who can talk to me. But that would take magic, and magic's silly. Only Kindergarten babies believe in magic. It's like Santa and the Tooth Fairy. They're not really real. Oh! Daddy came to get me early. I've got to go now. Bye!

Love,

Megan

**********

William Develin nodded to his neighbor. "I can't thank you enough for watching her again, Rupert," he smiled sheepishly. "I got backed up at the garage, you know how it is." The normally conservative young man was still in his coveralls, a grease smear on one cheek.

"Quite all right, Will," the older gentleman expressed with a fond smile. "Megan's quite the imp, but nothing I can't handle. Besides, I know that the new motorcross track was just completed outside of town. That should be stirring up more business, don't you think?"

William grinned. "Oh, it already is. The track owner was in today, wanted to know about subcontracting or somesuch, to see if we could work out a referral deal."

"How wonderful for you! I can only hope that - oof!" Rupert Giles, retired professor and research librarian was nearly bowled over by a blonde streak of lighting headed unerringly towards her father.

"DADDY!" Megan squealed, as if it had been days and not hours since she had seen him last.

"Nibblet!" He broke into a smile, sweeping her up into his arms. "Oy, you're getting a bit big for me to do this for to much longer. How old are you again? Fifteen?" William pretended confusion while his daughter giggled and Rupert rolled his eyes in mock-annoyance.

"Silly, I'm seven. You know that. Seven and three quarters." Megan tugged on his collar.

"Oh, right you are, pet. And if you're seven and three quarters, hmm... well, Mercury's in retrograde, and it's 78 degrees outside..." he pretended to think hard. "That makes today special. But..." He set her down and rubbed his chin in consternation. "Oh! That's right! It's Thursday. Thursday is broccoli night!"

"No it's not! Today's Saturday!" Megan was almost dancing in place.

"Saturday? Are you sure?"

"Yes, silly. I'm positively certain." She beamed at her proper use of a Mr. Giles phrase.

"That's ok, we can still have broccoli..." William winked at Rupert, who was trying very hard not to laugh at this old, yet favored, game.

"No! That's not why today's special!" This time, the girl screwed up her face and stomped her foot down.

Gods, she gets more like her mother every day... Squashing down his inner voice, William continued, looking down at his daughter in bafflement. "Then why?"

"IT'S SOCCER DAY!!" she burst out. "Let's go!" Seizing her dad's hand, she spun towards the front door. "Bye, Mr. Giles! I'll see you tomorrow!"

William shot his neighbor a quick grin and let himself be dragged away. After all, they had a match to prepare for.

**************

Susan Novak and Mary Beth Cavenaugh lounged back in their folding chairs at the edge of the town's soccer field. The sisters wore matching grins as they watched their children run back and forth over the grass in their striped uniforms.

"Oh, Lord, I wish William would stop teaching them how to slide tackle. I'll never get the stains out of that shirt." Belying her cross words, Mary Beth's tone was completely affectionate as she adjusted her sunglasses.

"Don't I know it! Half the time, I wish they'd just break down and buy green uniforms for all of them. It'd save on detergent, that's for sure." The two shared a chuckle over that.

"Oy! Bethany, you know better than that. There's nine other people who want a chance at the ball, you should let some of them play, too, eh?" William's crisp voice could be heard over the din of the enthusiastic Youth Soccer League scrimmage.

"I'm so glad that he agreed to coach this year. He's so good with the children. And they're doing a lot better than they used to."

Susan laughed at her sister. "And this way, it keeps him from being so outspoken from the stands! Remember two years ago, when he almost got ejected over a five-and-under division match?"

Their giggled reminisce was interrupted by a soccer ball flying wildly towards them.

"Oh! I'm sorry Mrs. Novak, Mrs. Cavenaugh," Megan called over, her face apologetic under its protective layer of dirt and sweat.

"It's fine, dear. Nothing we aren't used to," Susan called back, tossing the ball to William as he jogged over to oversee the throw-in.

"That Meg sure is a pistol," Mary Beth confided in her sister. "Sweet as can be, but what a firecracker! She must take after her mother. William's so reserved, it can't be from his side."

During this last piece of conversation, one of Sunnydale's newest inhabitants was walking over. Judy Stevenson and her husband Mark had just moved to town a month or so back. Their two sons, Chase and Michael, were the newest members of the soccer team. They were ten minutes late, as usual, and Judy looked a little flustered as she settled down on her own chair next to the sisters. "Hi, Susan, Mary Beth." She nodded at each of them.

"Hi Judy!" Susan chirped. The other woman waved a casual hand.

"Were you talking about Megan?" Judy asked.

Susan nodded. "Just about how she and her father are so close, but they're just so different."

"She probably takes after her mother." Mary Beth concluded.

"What did happen to her mother? Chase has had a couple of play dates with Meg, but I never had the chance to find out. There aren't any pictures of a woman around the house..." Judy raised a brow in inquiry. She hated mysteries of any kind.

"Oh, that. Well, as far as anyone knows, William's wife died in childbirth. He never talks about her and I don't anyone who's seen a picture or heard a description." Susan leaned forward conspiratorially. "He's only been a Sunnydalian for a few years. He just showed up one day, daughter in arms, straight out of the blue. I think he might be from Santa Cruz, or another one of those towns." She giggled again. "He's the local enigma."

"He just fits in so well," Mary Beth added, "that no one pesters too much to find out. Common consensus says that he's from a decent family further south. He probably married too young for their liking, and struck out on his own with his wife. When Meg was born, he didn't want to return home with a motherless child, so they wound up in Sunnydale."

Judy's brow furrowed. "How old is he?"

"Uh... twenty-four? I'm sorry, around here, grown-up birthdays don't get much press." Susan grinned.

"Megan's seven, isn't she?" the new woman continued.

Mary Beth nodded in response. "She'll be eight in two months. And William is twenty-four. He was seventeen when he first got here."

"Then why assume that he was married?" Judy wasn't trying to be rude, and there was no malice in her voice. She was just curious.

"Oh, well, he wore a ring for the first year that he lived here. Never took it off." Susan waved her hand, casually explaining.

"In California, and all the surrounding states, you have to be eighteen to marry. You say he was only seventeen when he moved here, so how could that have been?"

The sisters stared.

"Parental consent?" Mary Beth hazarded. "We never thought of that before."

"But you said you think that they were avoiding their parents - or that the families disapproved," Judy pointed out logically.

"Huh." Susan settled back in her chair, gazing thoughtfully at the trim young man who jogged back and forth across the field. As sunlight made his dark blonde hair shine almost white, she shrugged and gave a little smile.

"Like I said. He's the local enigma."

Chapter Two

April 2, 2003

Dear Diary,

I had a dream last night. I dreamed about Mommy. She was a princess, all locked up in a tower. And she was all locked up because when I was born, an evil witch tried to steal me away, but Mom gave me to Dad and told him to run. He didn't want to, but he had to rescue me, so he ran far far away from the evil witch. And she was so angry, that she locked Mommy up in a tower, and it's a magic tower that Daddy can never find. But when I grow up, and I get stronger, I can open the tower, and I can fight the evil witch, and my mommy will take me and give me the giantest hug, and tell me that she knew I'd come for her all along. And do you know what? I think it's true. I think it's almost real. I think it will be me who finds her, wherever she is.

Love,

Megan

**********

September 1995

Buffy Anne Summers snapped her gum as she walked casually down the hall of her new high school. Her head was held high, she was wearing the newest, trendiest clothing, and she had an air of superiority and grace about her that made people stop and watch as she strode by. With a toss of her long, blonde hair over a smoothly tanned shoulder, she completed her journey at the door to the school office.

Spike was slouched low on the bench outside of Principal Snyder's office. His head snapped up as a vision in platform heels breezed into the secretary's outer sanctum. She was stopped, leaning against the tall counter and speaking cheerfully to the woman at the computer screen. Smirking, Spike tilted his head and gave her a thorough once-over. She had on a pale blue sundress, with thin straps, that reached to her mid-thigh. No socks, just the aforementioned platform sandals - white. Strappy. Utterly cute. She even had a matching white patent leather backpack purse. He would've hurled, except the angle she was leaning at gave him a lovely view up the back of her skirt.

Smirk.

Out of the corner of her eye, Buffy caught sight of an unwashed miscreant with bottle blonde hair and a black leather fetish. Ew, much? Ugh, I forgot the downside of public school - they let anyone go here. She flipped her hair back with a toss of her head, and turned to lean her back against the tall counter. Propping her elbows on the surface, she crossed one ankle over the other and began to blow a large, lazy bubble in her gum.

Oh, that's it, Princess... you own this place, don't you? Spike shifted in his seat, letting his leg muscles flex under his fitted black jeans. This was almost fun.

The door to Snyder's office slammed open, and the small, troll-like beast glared down at him. "Spike," the little man sneered. "I should have guessed it was you again."

On second thought, scratch that.

Buffy's bubble popped. Her gum bubble, that is. Loudly.

Snyder's pointy head whipped around in her direction. "There is no gum chewing allowed on school property. Dispose of that at once, missie." He gave her a patented scowl. The girl just looked confused. After a moment, she shrugged slightly and bent towards the trash can to spit it out. When it was gone, she straightened, crossing her arms and allowing her lower lip to jut out ever so slightly.

Oh, pouty. Look at that lip... gonna get it... Well, eventually I will. The blonde addressed as Spike stood slowly, drawing himself up with calculated, feline languor. "So, y'gonna lecture me, or deal with the chit first?" He inclined his head in the girl's direction.

Oh... my... god. Buffy immediately began to reassess her assumption of his slovenly unworthiness. His jeans were torn, yes, but not dirty. The way the worn denim clung to him was... delicious. Add to that a fitted black shirt, and that yummy leather trench coat? Don't forget the delectable accent... oh, yum. Buffy forgot her pique at being scolded by the principal upon her first encounter with him. She was just grateful that the blonde bad boy had spoken. And... acknowledged her existence. Oh god. Is my hair ok? It took iron control to keep from checking it right then and there.

Snyder continued to scowl, looking back and forth between the two young troublemakers. Hmph. One or both, I'll get rid of them before the year is out. Mark my words. "Spike," he repeated. "Office. Now."

The student in question quirked a be-ringed eyebrow at Buffy, and followed the diminutive dictator.

**********

William wiped his hands repeatedly on a rag, eyeing the Harley Davidson with an air of satisfaction. The bike might not belong to him, but he worked on it often enough that he could practically name each and every bolt and screw. The sweet VRSCA V-rod belonged to a rich upper-east side snot, who rode the bike like it was nothing. Even though the machine was tough, it could only take so much before something gave. So he had it in every three or four weeks, for minor repairs and detailing.

The rag flew through the air, landing unerringly in the corner hamper of the garage. Two points. William sighed quietly, and looked around the shop to see if anything else needed done. School was still in session, so he was the only employee at the moment. When summer came, he had a few of the boys from the local high school who helped out on day shift - they covered some weekends during the year, too. It helped that it was a small town. If he wanted to close shop so he could take Megan on a camping trip, they just waited an extra day for their repairs. Convenient.

A high-pitched, rhythmic beeping shattered William's introspection. He grinned, using a grimy finger to flick the button on his watch's timer. It was time to go get Megan from school.

Parking his sensible dark green SUV outside of Sunnydale Elementary School, Will got out of the car to wait for his daughter. He couldn't help but lounge against the sun-warmed metal. If he squinted his eyes, he could almost see the finish as being black. Before he could trap himself in reminisce, a tall, blonde woman was approaching him with a smile.

"William! Hi!" Judy Stevenson stopped next to him.

"And how are you, this fine day?" Will squashed his vague resentment at having his introspection interrupted.

White, even teeth flashed in the sunlight. "Pretty well, it's been a quiet day. Actually, I came over to ask about making a play date for Chase and Megan. He's been pestering me non-stop about seeing if she's allowed to come over. Do you have a day that we can make that work?"

"Sounds like fun for the little bits. Maybe tomorrow afternoon? What did you have in mind?" He smiled back at her. As his daughter's best friend's mother, this was a woman he couldn't afford to irritate. It was a carefully sheltered relationship, so that the kids were happy. Not that he disliked the woman. To the contrary, she was so nice it was almost sickening. She was just... too California. It was like she had 'organic' stamped across her forehead. Perfect tan, perfect degree of blonde, classy little outfits and a perpetual French twist.

"Oh, the usual routine involves some swimming in our new pool, then snacks. I don't usually let Chase and Michael watch television during the day, but for a playdate, we can all watch a Scooby Doo movie with our snack. We've got tons of dress-up clothes, art supplies... I'll just keep an eye on them while they horse around." Another brilliant, Crest-white smile.

William chuckled. "Makes me wish I was seven."

Judy laughed. "You're welcome to come, too!"

He shook his head, still amused. "Think it might cramp their style. 'sides, I've got some backup at the shop that could use a little extra attention. So tomorrow it is?"

Judy nodded. "The kids'll be so excited - oh! Hi there, Chase-man!" She spun to greet her seven-year-old son.

"Hey Mom! Did he say yes? Can Meg come over?" The little blond boy was almost bouncing up and down.

"Why don't you ask him yourself?"

"Can Megan come over after school tomorrow to swim in our pool and maybe watch a movie and do some art stuff?" Chase blinked wide blue eyes up at William.

"I think that could be arranged. What do you think, Meg?" Will looked down at his approaching daughter.

"Oh, can I? They've got a pool."

"Then yes, sweet bit, as long as you promise to follow the rules of the house, eh?"

"I promise!" Megan blurted out. She nearly squealed, sharing a wide grin with Chase.

"Oh, either I or my cousin are with the kids when they're in the pool. She's visiting from the east coast for few months to help out during the remodel. Courtney's such a sweetheart. Anyway, I'll see you tomorrow!" Judy gave yet another wide smile, then ushered Chase off to go collect his little brother.

Meg gave her dad a hug, and shrugged out of her backpack. Tossing it in the back of the SUV, she ran around to clamber into the passenger side of the van. "Guess what, Dad? Mrs. Jonston, the music teacher? You know how she's having a baby? Well, she won't be able to finish the school year like everyone thought. So in two weeks, we're getting a new teacher. They don't know who yet. But isn't that weird? A new teacher for two months of school."

William grinned as he got behind the wheel. Starting the engine, he listened avidly to his daughter's words. Sometimes, he missed the feel of leather against his skin. Occasionally, he craved a cigarette. God only knew how much he missed his DeSoto. But times like this, when he was waiting in line to leave an elementary school parking lot while driving a forest green Ford 4Runner and listening to an account his daughter's day? None of that mattered. He was content.

Chapter Three

April 3, 2003

Dear Diary,

Chase is the coolest guy. He's really funny and nice. He's not like the other boys in my class. They're all still stupid, and they say dumb things about cooties and stuff. But Chase isn't like that at all. I guess it's because his mom is such a nice lady. Chase is my best friend. He likes to read, and play soccer, and he has a pool, and likes Scooby Doo and Veggie Tales, and he's got a little brother named Michael. Michael's really sweet. I mean, he's still in kindergarten, but he's not a baby like the others. He likes to play pretend with us. I wish I had a little brother. Or a sister. A sister would be awesome. I'd take her to meet all of my friends, and maybe she and Michael would play together when Chase and I are doing other things. I'd teach my little sister all about numbers and letters and Dr. Seuss, and how you shouldn't go swimming by yourself and that you shouldn't ever talk to strangers, and don't forget to hold hands when you cross the street... There's a lot of stuff I know. There's a lot of stuff I could teach her. But I'm not going to have a sister any time soon. Because Dad can't make one by himself. At least, I don't think he can. Maybe I'll ask him. But it's time for me to go eat breakfast. School starts pretty soon.

Megan

**********

September, 1995

Buffy sulked as she entered the detention room. It wasn't fair. Detention on her first day at a new school. Back at St. Francis DeSales High, she had always been one of the principal's favorite students. Unfortunately, it seemed as if public school was not going have the same perks. Dropping her stack of textbooks on a desk, she carefully hung her purse on the back of the chair. She seated herself decorously, mindful of her skirt. Detention over gum. How insane is that?

A low chuckle reached her ears. Buffy looked up to see the same sexy blonde from the office lean casually in the doorway.

Buffy blinked, regaining control of her faculties. The back of her mind, however, was still screaming at her. WANT SEXY TONGUE. WANT NOW. "You guessed correctly. What did you do wrong?" She was proud of herself for stringing together two coherent sentences while he was looking so... lickable.

Boots made an interesting clicking sound as Spike walked into the room. He grabbed the chair next to her and proceeded to assume the single most sensual sprawl Buffy had ever had the pleasure to lay eyes on. "I showed up."

"What?" The girl cocked her head, mildly confused.

Spike laughed. "Nice Valley accent y've got there, pet."

Buffy looked indignant. "I am NOT from the Valley."

He just chuckled again. "Sure, love. Whatever you say. But yeah, I showed up. Snyder's got it in for me. Teachers all know, to score brownie points with him, they've just got to send me to the office for something." He shrugged. "Got to be kind of a game, y'know? I try to see what the most outrageous thing I can do to get in trouble."

Buffy leaned forward slightly, eyes wide. "What did you do today?"

Spike snickered. "Told Mr. Hart that he had a luscious ass. 's all it took."

The blonde girl fought down a surge of disappointment. Why are the hot ones always gay? She glanced down at his hands, noticing for the first time that they had black polished tips. Darn. "I thought that public schools were more accepting of-" she waved her hand towards him "-alternative lifestyles. I mean, I know that it would get you in trouble at MY old school, but-"

Spike interrupted. "What? 's nothing to do with lifestyles, it's just sexual harassment." He blinked, taken aback. "D'you think I'm a ponce?" He looked down at himself, trying to see where he had gone wrong. No leather pants, shirt's not filmy or silk... what the hell gave her THAT idea...?

Her pink-painted lips formed a round 'o'. "I'm sorry, I just thought that..." Buffy trailed off, pointing at his hands.

Spike followed her gaze. The nails again? He scowled. "I'll have you know that this is a VERY manly color. No sparkles or glitter shit. 'm not a poof."

"I really am sorry. I mean, I've never been to a public school before, and my friend Deb told me to expect all sorts of weird stuff..." She was blushing bright red.

"So where did you go before? And what's your name, love?" Spike reassumed his mantle of sexy charm, hooking his arm over the back of the chair.

"Oh! I'm Buffy, Buffy Summers. I've spent my whole life at DeSales, you know, the Catholic school down on Limestone?" She uncrossed her legs, then crossed them again the other way.

A slow, lazy smirk crossed Spike's face, and he raised a hand to toy with the bead on his eyebrow ring. "That the school with the little grey skirts? White tops... navy cardigans?" He eyed her form blatantly. His smirk widened when she blushed and nodded her confirmation. Spike licked his lips. "You still have the uniform?"

Buffy leaned towards him slightly, a blush still staining her cheeks. She moistened her lips and pushed her hair back from her face, baring her neck tauntingly. At the end of the move, she propped her elbow on her desk, hand on chin. She gave him an innocent look, letting her French-tipped pinky nail slip into her mouth before she peeked up at him through lowered lashes.

"Maybe."

~*~*~*~*~*~

The next day found Buffy and Spike walking to classes together. His in-class behavior was slightly more restrained, so that he actually made it through whole periods without being sent from the room. When the two made it to lunch, they found a convenient table in the corner.

"So what's with the whole bad-ass image?" Buffy indicated his leather-clad form with a sweep of her arm.

"What's with the whole, sweet-and-innocent, 'won't you please debauch me' look?" He shot back.

She flushed slightly, glancing down at her outfit of the day. Alright, she had worn this to provoke him. A short plaid skirt, a buttoned white blouse, knee-high socks and heeled Mary Janes. If she hadn't been careful, she would've looked like a stripper. Or a porn star. "I don't know. I thought it was cute... and that you might like it."

"Oh, I like it, pet... but you should be careful about tryin' to be a little lamb 'round here. There's lots of wolves, just waiting to snap up a sweet little thing like you." His gaze was heated, but serious at the same time. " 's not very smart of you to play coquette with a bloke you just met yesterday. 'specially one who's a 'badass'."

She cocked her head, examining him. "Are you saying that you would hurt me?"

"No. But how do you know I'm telling the truth?" He tilted his head as well.

Buffy leaned forward, propping her elbows on the table, completely ignoring the tray of cafeteria slop. "I don't. But I trust you. You seem up-front. Why does it have to be so complicated? I like you. I hope you like me. I want to get to know you," she expressed, her words honest.

Spike gave a small smile, reaching over to run his fingers over the back of her hand. "You're an odd one, you know? Not the sort I would've expected to be so... real. Yeah, I like you, pet. Want to spend time, and what all." He looked up to meet her gaze. "It'll only get as complicated as we let it."

She smiled at him brightly. "See? That wasn't so hard. So tell me about you. I want to know everything." Buffy leaned back in her chair, poking a fork at the mystery substance on her tray.

Spike lounged back as well, his expression closing off. He may like the chit, but there's some things you just don't spill over soggy meatloaf. "Name's Spike, as you know. Been in L.A. all my life. Never knew my dad, my mum's a little bit... off." He shrugged. "Have kind of a family, group of us friends. We take care of each other. I still come to school because it pisses off Snyder and it might be useful to have a diploma. Plus," he gave a saucy grin, "you never know who you might run in to."

"Wow," Buffy smiled back. "Your whole life in a nutshell. But wait," she started, her expression becoming slightly confused. "If you've been in L.A. your whole life, why do you have an accent?"

"Two reasons, actually. My mum's from London, so that's how she talks. Didn't really see too many other people until I was ten or thereabouts. So it's how I learned. Then, it became one of my 'things', you know? Like the leather and the bleached hair. It adds to m'charm."

"So I see," Buffy mused. "You're an interesting guy, you know that?" She took a sip of milk from her carton.

"Well, what about you, Goldilocks? All I know about you is that you have a closet full of 'naughty schoolgirl' clothes, and that you like me." Spike couldn't help but give her another extremely blatant once-over.

Buffy just quirked a brow at him. "Where to begin? My mom works at an art museum as a broker, my dad is in business. I have a little sister named Dawn. My parents are in the middle of a messy divorce because my dad is a man-whore who likes his secretary a little too much." She said the last sentence extremely matter-of-factly. "That's why I'm not at DeSales again this year, my mom can't afford tuition on just her salary alone."

"Tough break, pet..." Spike grew thoughtful. He hesitated, then went ahead and asked. "Your interest in me... is this just something to piss off the 'rents? Because I'd like to know up front if I'm being used for shock value."

Buffy stared at him, surprised. "No!" she exclaimed. "God, I'm so sorry! I know how that must've sounded... No, not at all. I just think you're interesting." She blushed. And damned sexy.

Something in her blush must have conveyed the gist of her thought, because Spike relaxed into a smirk. "Just interesting." He nodded slowly. "Yeah, that's me." ************

April 3, 2003

The front door of the Stevenson house swung open at Will's knock.

"Oh, hi! You must be William Develin. I'm Courtney," the tall, strawberry blonde grinned, holding out her hand. "Sorry about the mess," she apologized, "it's been kind of a crazy day."

Will gave a little laugh. "Looks like it." He reached up, plucking a stray piece of grass out of her hair.

"Oh!" Courtney ran a hand through her messy ponytail, dislodging a few more leaves. "We were just playing ball tag." She blushed a little bit, still smiling brightly.

"Ball tag?"

The woman nodded, holding up a Nerf ball. "See?" She tossed it at Will, who caught it easily. She started to back up. "Now you're it." Courtney turned, starting to head through the house to the back yard. "Coming?"

Chuckling slightly, Will followed. The chit's as perky as her cousin, but at least she's got a sense of reality. he thought, taking in her comfortable khaki shorts, white tank top, and the battered flannel shirt thrown over it. She was dressed for roughhousing with the kids, not for watching T.V. while supposedly babysitting. He respected that. Walking across highly polished wood floors, Will had to sidestep to avoid tripping over toys, furniture, and power tools. The living room was half-painted, and the floor was missing in the corner.

"Judy wasn't kidding when she said they're remodeling," he commented.

"Yup. They practically gutted the place. Half of what I do is keep the boys from killing themselves on the drill bits. The other half is keeping them out of Judy's way while she deals with the contractors." When they reached the backyard, Will noted that the swimming pool was covered. Chase and Megan were running around the far end of the backyard, apparently shooting each other with Supersoakers. On the deck, there were two workmen measuring and sawing an obscene amount of crown molding.

"Yikes. 'm glad I've never had the urge to redo anything." Will was staring at the yard, almost jealous. This was ultimate suburbia. An acre-wide plot, a line of trees creating a privacy barrier, a tire swing... "Man, these kids have it made."

Courtney laughed. "I thought the same thing. Judy and Mark are the rich side of the family. They're actually my second cousins. It was pretty weird getting here a month ago. I'm used to shopping at K-mart, using coupons, living in the real world. Judy drove me to L.A. just to go shopping for a skirt. I almost died."

Will's eye twitched, but then he laughed. "Pretty crazy. She said you were from the east coast?"

"That's right. I'm taking a break before my senior year at the University of Connecticut." She shoved her hands in her pockets, and took a deep breath. "I love the weather out here. Back in Hartford, I bet it's still all miserable and raining.

"That's why they call it Sunnydale," Will snorted. "Never a cloudy day."

"Sounds like you've been watching too much Sesame Street," Courtney grinned. She made as if to say something else, but suddenly, she was attacked.

A green burr attached itself to her leg. "GRRRAAAARRRR!!!!" Michael roared, his voice squeaking at the last moment. "RAAAAAARRRRR!"

"Oh, no!" Courtney gasped, feigning terror. "It's a dragon! What will I do, what will I do!? Please, Mr. Dragon, don't eat me."

"Okay, Courtney. I won't." Michael looked up at her, impish face beaming. He still clutched her leg, though. The four-year-old was wearing a zippered dragon costume, complete with spiked tail and hood. "But you have to give me treasure."

"What kind of treasure does a Michael-Dragon want?" Courtney played along.

"Ice cream?" he asked hopefully.

She laughed. "Try again, hot stuff. No ice cream before dinner."

"I want a hug!" Michael yelled, releasing her leg.

"You do?" Courtney grabbed him by the arms and tossed him in the air, swinging him around in a complete circle before setting him back down. "Is that good treasure?"

Michael just laughed, starting down the steps to the yard. Courtney turned back to Will, eyes sparkling. "Sorry about that," she began.

"No need," Will held up his hand. "I once had a four-year-old m'self." He grinned at the memories of similar demands posed by Megan.

"Well, then I guess I'd better call the kids in, if it's time for Meg to go. I love having her over, she's such a doll. CHASE!! MEGAN!!" Courtney leaned over the deck rail to holler.

An impromptu race was begun, as the two first-graders tried to see who would be the first to reach the railing. Little Michael desperately tried to keep up. Megan pounded up the deck stairs and flung herself into her dad's arms. "I WIN!" she caroled, her voice muffled by Will's shirt.

Chase sat down hard on the deck. "I know," he replied, seemingly unruffled. "But I won at ball tag."

"Oh, speaking of," Will tossed the Nerf ball to Chase. "You're it."

Chase gave an exaggerated groan, burying his face against the ball. "I quit then." He looked up a second later and they all laughed.

"Well, Meg, it's time for dinner, so we've got to head on out, okay?" Will ruffled his daughter's still-damn hair.

"Okay." She released her death grip on his waist and smiled at the Stevenson's. "It was fun! I'll see you tomorrow?"

They nodded. "Bye, Meg," Courtney smiled, her eyes the same shocking blue as the boys'. "Bye, William."

Chapter Four

April 5, 2003

Dear Diary,

I don't really have much to say today. Except that it's fun to play at Chase's house. His cousin Courtney is really nice. She plays ball tag, and goes swimming, and knows lots of games. She even helped us paint dragons. Courtney's a really good draw-er. A lot of coloring books have boring pictures, so she does pictures for us that have dragons and wizards and princesses with pretty dresses. She even made one of the princesses look like me. I like her a lot. I asked her if she was a mom, and she laughed. She told me that she was just practicing for now. I think she'll be a good mom.

Love,

Megan

**********

Late September, 1995

Spike's jaw clenched as he leaned against a wall in the dark alley. It was past midnight, and the only light around was the orange glow of his cigarette. All of his senses were alert, belying his casual demeanor. A homeless guy peeked down the alley, then scuttled away.

No one looked that casual after dark, not in this section of L.A. Not unless they were one of the things that most folk feared.

Hearing voices from the back door he was watching, Spike ground out his smoke. Patience was a virtue. Normally, he was not a patient man, but in this case he could afford to wait. Sure enough, in a few moments, the door swung open, bathing two people in dim fluorescent light.

A nondescript man in a brown leather jacket sneered as he dragged a struggling brunette into the alley. "You're going to work it off then, bitch," he snarled, slamming her against the brick.

Spike grimaced in distaste. Not that he gave a flying fuck what happened to the bint, but... was he going to have to watch this asshole whip it out? Ugh.

"Tyke, please, I'll do anything..." the woman sobbed as she was forced down to her knees.

The man in question just sneered, reaching for his zipper.

Alright, that's it. I do not need to see this wanker's worm. Two long strides took Spike across the alley, where he grabbed Tyke by the collar. Slammed him into the wall hard enough to rattle his teeth.

"Little bitch," Tyke spat down at the woman. "Said you were alone."

"Oh, she is," Spike knocked him against the wall again for good measure. "Got nothing to do with the bint." He lashed out a leg, kicking her across the face and knocking her unconscious. "There, you can fuck her face later. This is about you, me, and some very cranky people that I work for, see?"

Tyke's face turned deathly white. "Look man, I don't have your money. Been a slow week, people not paying their bills - you know how it is!"

"Yeah, I know," Spike shrugged, then landed a savage punch on Tyke's left cheek. "Not my problem. My problem is reminding you that your bill is due." Another punch. "You starting to remember about that, mate?"

Tyke nodded frantically. "I know! I know! I'll have it by the end of the week, I swear!"

Spike laughed. It was not a pleasant sound. "See, it's all about business sense. Once you start trading our merchandise for suck jobs, we stop profiting. Whore on your own budget, Tyke." He reached into his duster pocket, pulling out his butterfly knife. With one hand, he flicked it open. "Or do I have to get more specific?"

Tyke swallowed hard, leaning back so hard that one would think he was trying to disappear into the wall. "No, I've got it. Tell Angel I'll have his cash."

"You know, the last time you fucked with him, you stopped hearing so good." Spike grazed the blade gently over the dealer's missing ear. "Mess again, and you might be suffering some vision loss, too."

The man just whimpered, cowed by this dangerous teen.

Satisfied for the moment, Spike flicked the knife shut, returning it to his pocket. He released Tyke's collar, straightened his duster, and punched the dealer in the gut.

Tyke wheezed, doubling over. "What was that for? I thought we were cool!"

Spike shrugged again, cracking his knuckles impersonally. "Late payment, there's interest due." Fists rained down on the hapless drug dealer.

When the man fell unconscious, the teen dragged his body over to next to the hooker's, shoving them together. He'd lay odds, who ever woke up second would be doing so with a slit throat. Spike started to run a hand through his hair, but grimaced at the sight of Tyke's blood on his knuckles.

Ugh. Even his blood is slimy. Reaching into his duster pocket, Spike pulled out a cell phone. Speed dial connected him to his boss in three rings.

"It's taken care of... yeah. Got anything else?" He paused. "Right. Tell Mum I'll be there in half an hour... Will do." Spike disconnected without saying goodbye. Time to head home.
~*~*~*~*~

A tall black teen in a wave cap intercepted Spike as he walked in the doors of the dilapidated apartment building. Spike nodded at him, and was recognized. They slapped hands.

"Christ," Gunn swore by way of greeting. "That sure didn't take long."

Spike quirked his brow, "Yeah, well, he was feeling a mite cooperative."

The younger teen laughed. "Got to hand it to you, bro. You get the job done." He motioned with his chin towards the stairwell. "Angel's upstairs. He's got a meeting right now, but he should be finishing up."

"Thanks, mate." Spike immediately started to jog up to the fifth floor. The boss' suite was the best apartment in the place. When he knocked on the door, it was answered by a stunning brunette in a short, slinky dress. Her delicate features and slender, youthful body made her a walking invitation to impropriety.

"Spike," she whispered coquettishly, stepping aside with apparent delight.

He leaned in and brushed his lips over her cheek. She smelled like roses. She always did. " 'lo, mum."

She smiled at him, and returned to her customary spot at the side of a broad-shouldered man in a dark suit.

Angel looked up and smiled. "Spike!

"Yeah, I'm back. Good Lord, people, it's not like it such an event. I go, I beat, I return. 'appens every night, doesn't it?" He headed towards the kitchenette, wanting a snack.

Angel laughed. "That's my boy."

The brunette woman looked up at him with sloe eyes. "My boy."

A statuesque blond on the other side of the gang lord sighed with exasperation. "Drusilla, honey? Shut up."

A discreet cough sounded from the opposite couch, where a woman in a tailored suit perched primly.

Angel grinned. "Forgive my pets, Ms. Morgan. They tend to squabble, don't they?"

"Yes, well, I assume that our business is concluded, then?" She appeared completely at ease, brisk and businesslike to the core.

The man nodded slowly in reply. "Consider it done. Someone will be in touch within the week."

Lilah Morgan, senior vice president of Special Projects at the Wolfram and Hart law firm, shook hands genially with one of the most wanted men in all of Los Angeles. "Pleasure doing business, Angel."

"You, too, dollface." He twitched his head towards the door. "So why don't you get on out of here, let me take care of the family?" His constant grin took the sting out of his words.

With a small smile, the attorney left.

"So," Spike commented, re-entering the living room with a sandwich in his hand. "What was that all about?"

Angel's grin widened. "I could tell you, but-"

"-then I'd have to kill you," Spike finished, groaning. "I swear, Peaches, you never get tired of that lame old joke."

"No, I really don't," he chuckled.

The teenager just shook his head, and plopped down on the recently vacated couch. He started to munch on his sandwich, ignoring his screwed up little family.

"Well," Angel said abruptly after a long silence, "I'm off for bed. Ladies?" He leered casually at them, and both Darla and Drusilla giggled, taking his outstretched hands.

Spike watched his mother follow Angel as if she were in thrall. He snorted. Wanker.

**********

April 10, 2003

Will eyed the young man who fidgeted under his gaze. Young man? The bloke's prob'ly the same age as you. He exhaled slowly, and set his papers down on the desk. "Well, your references are excellent, Mr. Harris. I can't say that it won't be a relief to be able to share the work load around here."

The man looked strong, his hands were calloused in all the right places, and he had a firm, confident grip. "Thank you, sir. And call me Xander, that's what every one else does." His fashion sense, though, left something to be desired.

Distracted once more by the fluorescent Hawaiian print, Will just nodded.

"I've been hearing about this shop for a while now, it's got a great reputation. Business must really be picking up, huh, what with the SoCal National Motorcross team using the local track for practice."

Will blinked, shaking himself from his flower-induced daze. "Oh, yeah. Lots of pro bikes in here, don't trust 'em to the lot of high school autoshop guys I usually get to help out during the summer." He nodded and stood, extending a hand to his new employee. "Look forward to working with you, mate."

Xander Harris' face split into a wide smile. "Me too. Only, you know, with you." He flushed, realizing how stupid he must sound, but the shop owner just laughed. The two men shook.

"See you Monday, bright and early." Will released the other man, stepping back.

Xander nodded. "Nine sharp." He took that as his cue, and backed out of the office. "Good to meet you."

Will nodded back. Just then the phone rang.

"Hello?" His eyes lit up. "Oh, hi, Courtney! Yeah, it's a surprise to hear from you. I didn't even know you had my work number- oh, right." He chuckled. "You're good, love... That'd be great. Uh huh... Fantastic. At nine, then? Right. See you then."

Smiling, Will set the receiver down with a small 'click'.

Chapter Five

April 7, 2003

Dear Diary,

This week has been really busy. In school, we've been having spelling bee's. Chase is really good at spelling, and he's been helping me. The other day, he beat me by one word, and he won for the whole class. Mrs. Teague gave me a gold star sticker, and Chase got a piece of candy. It was pretty cool.

It's pretty fun playing over at Chase and Michael's. I'm glad they moved to town. I've never had a best friend before. Plus, his parents are really nice, and so is Courtney. Well, I'm going to go see if there's anything on T.V. because I'm bored.

Love,

Megan

**********

Early October, 1995

It was close to ten at night - not at all late by city standards. Spike was taking a stroll through one of the nicer parts of the bad neighborhoods, not really doing anything. There was going to be a deal going down later on that night, but until then, he had nothing but time. As he rounded a street corner lit by flickering neon, he heard feminine cries coming from a nearby alley. Normally, this would be his cue to keep on walking, but the voice sounded familiar, somehow.

It wasn't his mother's, and if it was Darla, then whoever was harassing her would soon find his throat torn out. As he started to pass, he hesitated for an instant.

"No, please!" the voice screamed.

Buffy? Is that her? Spike jogged down into the alley, suddenly afraid for her.

Away from the light, the teenaged girl struggled ineffectually against two men in dark clothing. A third was lying on the ground, cradling his balls protectively, so Spike could see she'd gotten at least one hit in. She looked up, grime and tears streaking her face, and the blonde teen recognized his schoolmate.

"Hey!" He yelled out, making the two thugs look over.

"Not your problem, buddy. Just walk away." One of the men tightened his grip around Buffy's throat.

Spike snorted, reaching inside his duster to the back of his waistband. Pulling out his Glock, he leveled it at the first man's head. "I think it's your problem, now." His thumb released the safety.

Scowling, they released Buffy, holding their hands up. "Fine. You win, jackass. Take her." The scruffier one spat down on her. "Probably not worth the fuck."

Spike's jaw tightened. "Bugger off, eh?" He turned with them as they scurried away, keeping them in his sights the entire time. Once they'd gone, he put the safety back on the gun and tucked it back in its holster. He dropped down at Buffy's side.

Her shirt was torn, her face smudged, and she'd obviously been crying as she huddled in the dirt of the alley. A ripped duffel bag lay next to her, its contents scattered in the muck. "S-spike?" she stuttered uncertainly.

"Yeah, it's me, pet. C'mon." He stood, helping her regain her feet. "What say we get you out of here?"

Buffy surprised him by not bursting into hysterical tears. Instead, she rose unsteadily, arms immediately wrapping around her chest. Sightless gaze passed over her ruined belongings. She licked her lips mutely.

Spike frowned. Is that what it looks like when someone goes into shock? Oh, bloody hell. "Pet?" He tried again. "Buffy?"

Her head turned, eye focusing slowly on his face.

"Let's get you home, love." He jerked his chin towards the alley's exit.

Shivering slightly, Buffy followed him. Her expression was still dazed, her movements mechanical. It was if she was in a catatonic state as she blindly allowed him to guide her.

Pausing once they reached the street, Spike reluctantly addressed her. "Ducks, I don't know where you live. You're going to have to tell me."

After a long moment, Spike was beginning to wonder if she'd even heard him. Then he heard her husky whisper.

"Maple Canyon. 4851."

He grimaced. He hated crossing through that suburb-like cluster of middle-class homes. It bordered right on a section of ghetto ruled by a rival gang faction. Shaking his head, he nevertheless set them on the road that would lead to Maple Canyon Street.

A good while passed before they started entering a better class of neighborhood. Buffy was showing signs of increased alertness, so Spike resumed his attempts to engage her in conversation.

"So, what circumstance made you cross my path tonight?"

She didn't answer, her eyes starting to drift far away. Spike cursed himself, and slung an arm around her shoulders. "Don't worry about it. Nothing's going to happen to you now." He guided the turn onto the appropriate street, watching the house numbers. Pretty soon, he was coaxing her up the front steps. As he reached for the bell, the door swung open under his hand.

Spike blinked, his arm still around Buffy. "Um. Hello."

"Buffy Anne Summers," the woman began to scold. "What on earth are you doing outside at this hour? And who is this?"

"Oh, hi." Buffy seemed to wake up all of a sudden. "Mom."

"Don't you pull this on me, young lady. Where on earth have you been?"

"Spike and I were just... hanging out. Right?" Buffy improvised.

Spike nodded in agreement. "That's right, Mrs. Summers."

"Spike?" She clutched her robe tighter around her, taking in his rugged, leather-clad appearance. Just what every mother wants to show up on their doorstep at eleven o'clock at night, while invading their daughter's personal space. Her mouth tightened. "You. Inside. You. Leave," she barked.

Spike didn't bother trying to determine which 'you' referred to him. Ruffling Buffy's hair, he smiled. In a low voice, he offered, "See you at school, love?"

Buffy smiled back. "Yeah. And thanks-" As she turned, her mother grabbed her by the arm, jerked her inside.

"Bye," Spike managed, as the door slammed shut in his face. He snorted. Not that I blame her.

*************

April 7, 2003

Will adjusted his shirt collar, stepping out of his SUV. He leaned against the hood and looked up at the front of the Stevensons' place. Punctual as ever, Courtney opened the front door with a smile. Her hair was back in its habitual ponytail, but instead of shorts and a flannel top, she wore low-rise jeans, an orange tank-top and casual brown sandals on her feet.

Will smiled back. "Hey," he called to her.

"Hey, yourself, stranger. You ready to go?" Her lips were slick with shimmery gloss.

He nodded. "The engine's running."

"Great."

Chapter Six

Early October, 1995

Spike lit up a cigarette as he sat down on the steps outside of Sunnydale High. He was supposed to be in his fifth period history class, but he doubted that his teacher would miss his witty contributions to the discussion. He exhaled, a long plume of smoke drifting skyward. Through half-lidded eyes, Spike noticed someone approaching from his left side.

Buffy, uncharacteristically clad in overalls and a long-sleeved shirt, walked up to him, hands shoved deep into her pockets. "Hey."

He took another drag. "Hey yourself, pet." Smoke blew out the corner of his mouth.

"About last night-" she began.

"Oh, yeah, about that. Look pet, you don't have to worry about me scaring your mum anymore, I understand completely and-" Spike's bizarre rambling was cut off abruptly.

Buffy Anne Summers, good little schoolgirl, seized him by the coat collar and plundered his mouth. Deciding to make a proper job of it, she allowed her hands to slide up his neck, deepening the kiss as she coaxed his tongue out to play.

Spike was lost in a wave of lust at the feel of her lips, her touch... and God, that tongue. He almost groaned aloud, but didn't want to spare the breath. He pulled her closer against him, letting his hands slip down to caress her back and shoulders.

With one last kiss, Buffy pulled away. Her mouth moist and swollen, she smiled at Spike. "Thank you," she said quietly. "Thank you for being my knight in armor, and scaring those goons away. Thank you for getting me home in one piece. Thank you for not going ballistic on my mom for being a bitch. Thank you for covering for me, and not telling her where we were." Her eyes closed briefly, a shadow of pain flickering across those hazel orbs. "Thank you."

Spike smiled, and kissed her soundly. "If this is what I get for being good, I should try it more often."

She laughed, relaxing, and turned to lean against him. Her arm slid around his waist. Pausing, she let her hand touch the back of his belt. "You're not wearing-"

"No, I'm not. Pretty stupid to pack at school, don't you think? Other than here, though, I go armed at all times." He shrugged. "I tend to cross some fairly nasty people in my end of the neighborhood."

Buffy hesitated once more, then let her arm slide fully around him. That's the life he lives... and if he didn't you'd be dead by now, Buffy. Somehow, it didn't make her think any less of him that he carried weapons. To the contrary, the controlled violence he constantly exuded was such an integral part to his person, that she couldn't imagine him without it. He was Spike. That's all there was to it.

Spike looked down at her, and her easy manner. Chit's gotten under my skin, she has. All bluster and spark. Switching his cigarette to his other hand, he let his left arm drape over her shoulders, giving her a little squeeze.

"So are we an 'us'?" Buffy asked quietly, a small smile on her lips.

"Does that mean you'll wear those schoolgirl uniforms for me?" Spike countered, but his habitual smirk was replaced with a soft grin.

Buffy's smile widened, and she arched a brow.

He sighed wistfully. "Yeah, pet. I think we're an 'us'."

She pulled him down for another kiss. "You know," she whispered conversationally, "the drama club happens to store props up in the school attic. Props, like this big, comfy couch."

"Really," Spike nearly purred, his jeans tightening at the thought.

Buffy nodded. "Yup. Big, soft couch, lots of pillows. Great place for illicit sex. A little bird told me that there's a way to jam the door from the inside."

Spike's eyebrows shot up. She was willing to sleep with him already? "S'not your, you know-"

"First time?" Buffy laughed hollowly. "Um, no. But that's a depressing story for some other day. Right now, I just want to feel you." She moistened her lips unconsciously. "Please?" Her eyes made promises that Spike wasn't strong enough to deny.

"C'mon then, pet," he murmured huskily, stubbing out his cigarette. "Want to make 'us' official. Want to make you mine."

Buffy smiled, putting her arms around his neck. "Yours," she said simply. "Yours."

~*~*~*~
[click here for smutty version]
Continue on for clean.
~*~*~*~

A respectable while later, Buffy hunted for her bra among a stack of Styrofoam props. They could have been fence posts, or perhaps pieces of a replica of the Statue of Liberty. But that was beside the point.

Rumpled, sated, and amused, Spike watched her search. His jeans were still unzipped, his shirt wrinkled and untucked. The duster was slung over the back of the couch. In his hand, he toyed with the scrap of lace and satin he had found between the couch cushions. The self-same item that his girlfriend was hunting so assiduously. I'd just tell her, but she's so cute when she's getting annoyed...

"Spike, do you have any idea where you threw it? I mean, it can't have gone too far..." Nibbling her lower lip, Buffy shoved through another pile of cardboard and plastic.

"Dunno, pet. We did get a little athletic, though." His smirk was positively impish.

Buffy looked back at him, and caught sight of her bra dangling from his hand. "Spike!"

He laughed, shaking the undergarment. "Oh, this, you meant?"

"Why, I ought to..." she stalked towards him menacingly. God, he looks so sexy all sprawled out like that... Mm.

"Nuh-uh, pet." Spike set his tongue against his front teeth. "You want it back, you've got to earn it." His pierced brow twitched at her.

"Oh... Like this, maybe?" Buffy dropped to her knees in front of him, reaching to tug on his jeans.

Her next actions made Spike's eyes roll up into the back of his head, and his nerveless hand dropped her bra onto the seat beside him. At that point, he no longer cared.

***********

April 7, 2003

"Guys?" Courtney yelled, and the peace of the early morning was broken by the thundering of a herd of elephants. Well, actually, it was the thundering of two excited boys, but it was sometimes difficult to distinguish between the two sounds. Laughing at her cousins and their antics, the strawberry blonde snagged a jean jacket and her knapsack from the porch, clattering down the porch stairs in the boys' wake.

Megan rolled down her window. "Hi!" she called, waving madly.

"Hi!" Chase called back, running up to the SUV. Will popped open the back door and gave Michael a boost in. More quickly than anticipated, all three kids were settled in and buckled up. Courtney hopped in on the passenger side.

"I don't think either of them slept a wink last night," she grinned, looking over at Will.

He smiled back, closing his door and putting the Explorer into drive. "Can't really blame 'em. You're telling me that you've never been to the Sunnydale Zoo?" he tsked. Squeals of glee came from the back seat.

"Are we there yet?!"

Twenty minutes, five admission tickets, and seventy-five 'Can we go see the lions now?'-s later, Chase, Michael and Megan were pressed eagerly against the stone wall. Will wasn't too concerned. Between the spectator fence and the actual boundaries of the lions' domain was a gap of about fifteen feet. He figured that it was unlikely that any of the kids should fall into the cage. But just in case, he remained within easy snatching distance.

Courtney ruffled Michael's hair, looking down at the great cats. "Lions were always my favorites, you know. When I was growing up. Had a bunch of toy ones in my room." She grinned.

"Let me guess. You named your favorite one Leo?" Will gave her a sideways glance.

She shook her head, grin widening. "You know, that's exactly what my sister kept telling me I should do. But I called him Lion. I knew which one he was, why did he need a name? Plus, 'Leo'? How pedestrian can you get." Courtney rolled her eyes teasingly.

Will laughed. "No offense, pet, but I would've pegged you for pretty ... well, average. Nice, normal, average, and Midwestern."

Courtney snorted. "And I am anything but. Well, I'm nice enough, I suppose. Grew out of my bratty phase. But I've always been a freak-"

"Mom says we're not supposed to say that," Michael interrupted. "It's not nice to say that."

She blinked. "It's okay for me to use it this time, because I was talking about myself, and I didn't mean it in a bad way. But Judy's right, you shouldn't call people names. It's good of you to remember that," she responded, a touch automatically.

"Okay Courtney."

"Hey, do you want to go to the petting zoo? You can actually play with the animals, and feed them, too." Megan was very proud to have the chance to show her friends around the zoo.

Chase's grin was infectious. "Yeah!"

Receiving the nod of approval from her dad, Meg took off at a quick walk, dragging the boys along.

The adults followed at a slightly more sedate pace.

"So tell me all about why you're such a freak," Will continued conversationally.

Another smile. Sometimes it seemed like that was all she did. "Well, I never fit in very well at school. Probably because I never stayed at a school long enough to make friends. My dad was in the army, so we spent most of our life moving. Never spent longer than seven months in one town, buzzed around lots of boring places - Kansas, Utah, Iowa, places like that. Middle of nowhere."

Will sat down on a tacky zebra-striped bench, eyes sliding over the image of his daughter petting a young goat. "Sounds lonely."

His companioned sobered. "Yeah," she replied quietly. "It kind of was." She watched him carefully. Will was the kind of guy that would surprise you constantly. He was so mature, so responsible, and yet, he wasn't that much older than she was. She wondered what exactly had happened to make him grow up so fast.

"Yeah," she repeated, breaking from her reverie with a blush. Courtney hoped he hadn't noticed her staring. "So that, plus acne that just wouldn't quit, add braces and glasses, and now you know why I'm such a big big freak."

He smiled over at her. An eyebrow quirked, and she noticed for the first time that there was a small white scar running through it.

"Well, I don't know about the lonely part, but you seem to have gotten over the rest of it."

Perfect white teeth.

"So, what about you?" she quickly spoke, looking over at the boys. Michael was giggling madly as a bunch of sheep crowded close to eat from his hand. "Let me guess about you in high school. Quiet, a little shy, chess club?"

Internally, Will snorted. "Actually, I'm not really one for clubs of any type. But I was a loner. Didn't really want friends." Didn't really want anything, except for her. He gritted his teeth, forcing his mind away from that train of thought. Those bridges had been burned long ago. He sighed, looking back to Courtney. Shielding his eyes from the sun, he still was forced to squint. "U Conn, huh? Tell me about it," he urged. "And how on earth did you end up in Connecticut?"

"It's a pretty long story. See, back when my mom was in college, her brother was in the ROTC..."

Blonde children playing in the sunlight. Fresh breeze on a spring morning. Animal braying and neighing in the background.

Will flexed his hands, listening to Courtney's anecdote with half of his attention. The rest of it focused on the knife scars that criss-crossed his pale skin.

You've come a long way, Spike. His daughter's laugh rang out.

A very long way.

Chapter Seven

April 10, 2003

Dear Diary,

I love the zoo. I love lions and tigers and bears and birds, and I love to watch the zebras and play with the goats and baby cows. I like the pony rides, too. Michael was so funny, the sheep kept crowding all around him, I thought they were going to knock him down, but there was a fence in the way. Because he's too little to pet the sheep by himself, he could get hurt. I still want a little sister. But it's nice to play with Chase and Michael, too. Because when I get tired of sharing, I can just tell them to go home. And they have their own toys, and games, and costumes. They don't have a lot of girl dress up clothes, but I don't care. I'd rather be a knight anyway, than some stupid girl who faints all the time and has to be rescued. I want to do the rescuing. I want to be the hero, too.

Love,

Megan

**********

October, 1995

Buffy stormed into school early that morning. She was fuming, and dressed to kill. Skintight leather pants, a scandalous red shirt, dark make-up, high heeled boots... Spike knew all the signs. And right now, they all pointed to "Furious Buffy! Big fight with parents! Extremely aggressive sex to be had very soon!"

Parts of him, (the southern parts) were delighted. The rest of him hurt for her, and not in that low-down, tingly way. Why do they do that to her? Catch her in the middle of the fights, make her feel like things are her fault, force her to act out when all she wants to do is get away...

For a street punk, Spike was remarkably well-versed in the psychology of the situation. But the time for thinking was past. His girlfriend, and the time for heated kisses, was here.

Buffy threw herself at him, kissing him savagely. No words of greeting, just demanding lips and an agile tongue. She grabbed the collar of his duster, pulling him closer to her. "Attic," she gasped out between kisses. "Now."

Before the first bell even had the chance to ring, the teens were upstairs and back on their couch. Well, thought Spike, as clothing began to hit the floor. I really didn't want to go to class anyway...

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

"So," he ventured, after yet another period had come and gone. "'s there a particular reason for this morning's athleticism, or you just missed me over the weekend?"

Smirk.

Buffy made a face, and snuggled closer against his bare, sweat-slickened chest. Her fingertips skated idly across his slippery skin. "I hate when they fight, you know," she began softly. "The screaming, the yelling. Throwing things at each other, threatening things about custody and alimony and getting lawyers in the mix. I hate it."

Spike listened intently, somehow knowing that there was more to it than just the fighting.

"But this morning... this morning, I found out what I hate more than when they fight." Her fist clenched, making crescent-shaped impressions on her palms. "I hate when they agree."

He blinked. "What happened, love?" he prompted, mildly confused and completely concerned.

"We've been dating for what, two weeks?" Buffy seemingly changed the subject. "Two weeks. Two weeks in which Mom has met you twice, and Dad has seen you in passing all of one time."

Spike was getting a bad feeling about where this was headed.

"They agreed," she stressed the word, "that something has gone terribly wrong with their baby girl if she is interested in an 'obnoxious, devil-worshipping miscreant with a facial piercing', end quote. They screamed at each other for three hours over whose fault it is, but the result's the same. I'm not supposed to see you again, ever." Buffy looked up at him, her hazel eyes forlorn.

He just laughed. "Is that it? Hell, ducks, they're not the boss of me. I can see you whenever I soddin' like. You knew from the get go that I was likely to piss them off, and nothing's changed." Gentle fingertips brushed her cheek, and his voice quieted. "You don't have to be so worked up, love. I'm not going anywhere. Your parents can kiss my obnoxious, miscreant ass. Though I've never worshipped the devil, at least, not that I know of."

Buffy smiled hesitantly, victim of Spike's infectious grin. "Damn," she murmured, leaning forward to brush her lips over his. "You always know exactly what to say."

Spike's eyebrows waggled lasciviously. "It's a gift."

"Mmm hmm..."

"Oh, yeah." His arms slid more snugly around her body. "Want to see what other 'gifts' I've got?"

She let out a muffled shriek as he pounced, giggling the whole time. "God, I love you," she burst out.

Spike stopped, staring at her. Then, he kissed her soundly. "Yeah, pet," he smiled. A genuine smile, not a leer or a smirk or a cocky grin. Spike smiled at her. His eyes half lidded, and he sighed. "I love you too." Their foreheads touched, and he scowled playfully. "You've gone and ruined it. I was gonna wait, and be all sweet, and make you swoon, but you had to go and say it first."

Buffy could tell by his eyes that he really wasn't upset. So she kissed him again. He loves me!

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Finally having made it to a few classes, Buffy was at her locker when the final bell rang. She half-lidded her eyes as she felt strong hands slide around her waist from behind. "Mmm, Tyler," she teased, leaning back.

Spike snorted, resting his chin on her shoulder. "I bloody well hope you aren't letting that wanker feel you up." He casually groped her breasts, making his point.

Buffy wiggled against him. "Possessive?"

"You know I am, love." He kissed her cheek, then looked into her locker as she grabbed some textbooks. "What's that?" One hand let go of her waist to touch a large white envelope tucked inside one of her books.

"Um, nothing," Buffy fidgeted, starting to shove the envelope into her bag.

"Evasive... and now I simply have to know." He snatched at it.

"No!" she bit out, blushing horribly. The envelope evaded his grasp.

The time for fair play was over.

Suddenly, a warm, wet mouth closed over her neck, and began doing unspeakably wonderful things to her pulse point. Strong, muscled arms tightened around her waist, pulling her snugly back against an equally muscled body. Buffy felt all melty and warm. She sighed, relaxing completely.

As soon as she dropped her guard, Spike snatched up the envelope and held it triumphantly. "Ha!"

Buffy's blush darkened. "Hey! That's not fair!"

He flipped his tongue at her. "Yeah, but it was fun," he grinned. Without waiting, he flipped open the envelope and looked inside. Spike stared. "What's this?"

Buffy twitched, trying to grab it back. "Can we not do this?"

Spike looked over at her, trying to see if his actions were genuinely upsetting her. A once over, and he knew that she was just flustered. Potentially embarrassed, but not angry. "What's the matter, pet? They're good."

"No, they're stupid." She sighed in resignation, dropping her weight against the locker. "Go ahead, tell me how dumb I look."

Spike pulled out the stack of photographs. Buffy in a blue t-shirt, leaning against a wall. Buffy in jeans and a tank top, standing in front of a wall of tools. Buffy in a short skirt, sitting like a doll on a shelf. Buffy in a little silk robe. Buffy in a leather jacket and pink sundress. Buffy, in black and white, sitting in a corner. Buffy, the coquette. Buffy, the sophisticate. Evening gowns, casual wear, sitting, standing, lying down... there were dozens of them, all different. All beautiful.

He swallowed hard. "You're stunning, love."

Blushing still, she made a face. "You still think they're dumb."

Spike licked his lips. "No, not dumb... just... why?" He was still staring.

Buffy grabbed the photos, starting to cram them back in the envelope. "My mom... When I was little, she used to take me to these modeling gigs... I did some commercials, some local advertising. She still makes me get a portfolio update every year, and she drags me to auditions on weekends sometimes." She was mumbling, as if it were something shameful.

Spike looked confused. "And what's wrong with that, besides the fact that everyone gets to ogle my girl?"

She shrugged. "I don't know. It's just... I don't know. Can we just go?" Buffy batted her eyelashes at him.

Spike chuckled. "You've got me whipped, you know that?"

She grinned, triumphant, and held out her book bag to him. "Pretty please?"

"Only if there's whipped cream and syrup involved," he added, giving her a heated glance.

Buffy's eyes darkened. "Oh, yeah," she breathed. Distracted by his words, and the mental images produced by them, she failed to notice when he slipped one of the pictures into his duster pocket.

**********

April 10, 2003

"Hello?" A statuesque blonde leaned into the garage, calling out loudly. "Is anyone here?" She strode briskly inside.

Will set down his wrench and wiped his hands on the front of his coveralls. "Can I help you?"

"Yes. I'm looking for Xander," she replied.

He paused for a second, thinking, and then his face brightened. "Are you Anya?"

The blonde beamed. "Yes! Yes, I am. Has Xander been talking about me?"

Will grinned at her. "Yeah, he might've mentioned something along the lines of 'gorgeous woman I'm going to be marrying'..."

Right then, the man in question came back into the garage. His eyes lit on his girlfriend, and he smiled broadly. "Anya!"

She blew him a kiss. "What's taking you so long? We're supposed to go to dinner now."

"Oops, sorry sweetie. You know how I get when someone brings in a new Harley. Got caught up with working on the Softail..." He suddenly had a dazed, dreamy expression as he trailed off.

Anya frowned, clapping her hands sharply to get his attention. "Xander Harris, the only time you are allowed to make that face is when I am giving pleasure to your penis. Now let's go!"

William choked.

Xander blushed.

Anya remained unperturbed. "I'm hungry."

"Uh... did I mention she's blunt?"

A snicker. "Go ahead and take off, Xand. It's rude to keep the lady waiting." Since the initial shock was wearing off, Will felt free to be amused at the woman's utter tactlessness.

"Thanks, man."

In moments, Xander had cleaned up, grabbed his keys, and was headed out the door. William shook his head, and went back to the tune-up he interrupted. He snickered quietly. That chit's got a bigger pair of stones than the whelp...

Chapter Eight

April 12, 2003

Dear Diary,

I have a secret. Except it's not really a secret, but I want to pretend because I never have any secrets to tell. Dad is going on a date tonight, but he's trying to make like it's not really a date, because I think he thinks I'm too little to understand. But I don't mind. I like Courtney. She's really nice. I think she'd be a good mom. Even though I know that just being boyfriend and girlfriend doesn't mean you're getting married, because Kristin and Robbie were boyfriend and girlfriend, and they got mad at each other, and broke up right afterwards. I know that. I'm not silly like that. But I still wish I had a mom sometimes. Even if she wasn't my really for real mom.

Love,

Megan

**********

November, 1995

Spike swore under his breath as he jogged through yet another alleyway. A hop, a slap of chain link, and he was over the fence that impeded his passage. He wasn't quite running, because that attracted the wrong kind of attention. And while you were on the wrong side of the city, attention could get you killed. Three months ago, he wouldn't have cared. He would've laughed aloud, and strolled through the streets, daring anyone to mess with him. Back then, he really didn't have anything to lose.

He felt incredibly old for his sixteen years, expelling a breath now that he was on familiar ground. Sixteen years of running and hiding, of stealing and killing and putting himself and the family first. For the first time, he felt like there was something outside of himself that mattered. His calloused hand slipped into his pocket, fingering the photograph of Buffy he had nicked a few weeks back.

Now, if anything happened to him from recklessness, she would get hurt. And again, for the first time, it was important that she stay safe, stay happy, stay protected. Because for the first time, Spike was in love.

Nearing the apartment complex, he lit up a cigarette. He cursed again, seeing Gunn and Chain standing in the doorway. They didn't look happy, which meant Angel wasn't happy. Not a good thing.

He paused for a second, taking a deep drag to settle himself. In that second, a random thought flitted across his mind. Spike, Gunn, and Chain... He snorted. We could start a thrash-metal band.

Flicking the ember to the ground, he nodded to the guys as he started inside. "Hey."

Gunn gave him a sidelong glance. "Watch your ass. He's pissed."

Spike waved his thanks, and headed for the stairs. What happened now?

Hesitantly, he swung open the apartment door, glancing around to get a feel for the situation. Drusilla was huddled in a corner, talking quietly with the wall. Angel was turning purple with suppressed violence. Darla had her hand on her holster. Lilah Morgan, seated on the couch once more, looked smug.

Uh-oh... Spike froze in the doorway.

"You see, Mr. Angel, I don't see how you have any option but to comply. Not unless you want your son to spend the next five to seven years in a state facility," The lawyer continued pleasantly.

Darla's jaw clenched tightly, and her gaze narrowed.

"You're out of your fucking mind!" Angel exploded. "You know that's not how things work - you can't just barge into my home with ultimatums, and dangle my child's future in front of me like bait!"

"It's a simple exchange. A business transaction. We get what we want, you get your son released on a technicality... but without our help, you know very well that Connor will wind up in a juvenile detention center. He may be just thirteen, but aggravated assault charges tend to stick." She smiled politely, re-crossing her legs.

Angel paled, and Spike knew that he was about to do something stupid.

Sure enough, everyone in the room who was armed drew their weapons on Ms. Morgan. The lawyer didn't even flinch.

"Now, this is completely unnecessary. It won't fix your problem," she spoke smoothly.

"You knew from the beginning, we don't get involved with politics. I gave you access to our information networks, I hooked your firm into the cops and D.A.'s that are on the take, and I even arranged some witness 'accidents' for you," Angel snarled. "We've done everything we agreed to do. But high profile killing, it's not our department. Can't help you. Now stick to our arrangement, and get me back my son!"

Lilah sighed regretfully. "It's not going to happen. The senior partners were explicit. Either Governor Wilson lacks a pulse in the next two weeks, or Connor will no longer be represented by Wolfram and Hart."

Angel slid back the hammer, his entire body tense with near-uncontrollable rage.

The lawyer merely raised one perfectly groomed eyebrow. "I'm sure you remember my associate, Mr. Lindsay MacDonald. If for some reason, I fail to return to the office this evening, he will take over this project. And Connor will still be gone."

Darla cursed, throwing one of her knives across the room. It embedded in the wall approximately five inches from Lilah's head.

Finally, the unruffled woman flinched.

"I should tear you to pieces," the blonde growled. "Slit your throat and bathe in your blood, so the governor can meet you in hell and spit on you."

"Does that mean we have an agreement?" Ms. Morgan reached for her briefcase.

Angel replaced the safety, the vein in his forehead still throbbing visibly. "Wilson for Connor, you bitch. Now get out of my house."

She smiled. Standing, Lilah extended her hand, then thought better of it. "Normally, I would say it's been a pleasure, Angel, but-"

"GET OUT!!" he roared, grabbing a lamp and flinging it at her. The glass hit the wall and shattered. "OUT!"

Spike jerked the door open to expedite the lawyer's exit. He slammed it shut after her, and ducked to avoid the knife that was flung in her wake. "Hey!" he shouted. "Watch it, Darla." Reaching up, he yanked the blade from the wood. Striding angrily over to the center of the room, he slammed it down on the coffee table. "Now what the hell was that all about?"

All of the energy seemed to deflate out of Angel. "Connor got picked up earlier today. Seems he's been somehow connected to a petty thief that was found beaten unconscious. A thief named Lenny James."

"What? But I'm the one who got Lenny. Shit, that's where I was last night. He was shorting on the take. How the hell did Connor get busted for that? He wasn't even there." Spike was torn between confusion and rage. He might not be related to Angel's son by blood, but considering their bizarre little family situation, he was practically Spike's kid brother.

Angel's eyes flashed pain. "I know. And I'm not blaming you-"

"YOU might not be," Darla glowered at the blonde teen. "I, on the other hand, want to kill something."

Spike's hands clenched. "And who was the one who sent me after Lenny? Oh, right, Darla, it was you. Stupid bint. Shut the fuck up and let me talk to Angel."

"It's a fucking set up. Wolfram and Hart can't find a way to keep Governor Wilson from pushing through some law that will piss off some of their clients, and they want me to take care of him."

"But we don't do assassination. Well, not frequently. And not big names," Spike argued.

"Didn't you fucking hear me say that all of ten minutes ago? The bitch doesn't care. And neither do her bosses. Either we take care of their problem, or Connor stays in juvie until he's 18." Angel was too macho to cry, but he was the closest to tears that he'd ever been in his life.

"So we're going to do it," Spike asked, incredulous.

"Do we have a choice?" Darla whispered, sitting down on the loveseat and pulling her legs up to her chest. "Do we?"

She looked so lost, curled up in a ball like that, so lonely. She might not be the best of mums, but hey, she tries... "Who's doing it, then?"

Shaking his head, Angel sighed. "Don't know yet. Faith, maybe?" He scrubbed his face with his hands. "She used to be tight with the mayor, and shit. She could get in."

Spike shook his head. "No good. She's been fucking herself up every night. I wouldn't trust her to keep her shit together for an hour, much less however long this'll take. Someone has got to get her off the junk."

Angel gave him a look. "That, right now, is so far down my list of priorities..." he began.

"And I'm just trying to help get Connor back," he interrupted. "So how are we going to play this?"

**********

April 12, 2003

Courtney swirled the wine slowly in her glass. "So."

William toyed with the last bite of his steak, not really wanting to finish it, but feeling compelled to triumph over the dead cow. "Yeah, pet?"

She cocked her head to the side. "Will... What happened with Megan's mom? I mean, I know it's not really my business, and you don't have to tell me anything if you think I'm out of line, I was just wondering..."

He blinked slowly. "You're not out of line. I see how you'd be curious." William shrugged, taking a sip from his own glass. "It didn't work out. It stopped working before I came to Sunnydale. And there's no chance in hell of it ever working again."

"Oh." She looked away briefly. "I'm sorry."

Another shrug. "You don't have to be. It's ancient history. I don't talk about her, really. Actually, I don't talk about her at all. To anyone."

Courtney was taken aback. "Not even to Meg?"

Will shook his head. "She doesn't even know what her mum's name is."

"I wish I could say that I understand, but frankly, I don't. I know there's a lot you're not telling me, but... that's not fair to Meg."

"Hey, I was raised without knowing who my da was, and I managed perfectly fine. So don't tell me how to raise my daughter," William's replied heatedly.

Courtney took a deep breath, running a hand through her hair. "No, that's not what I meant. Dammit, Will, I'm sorry I even started this whole thing. Can we just forget I even brought it up? I didn't mean to piss you off." She bit her lip, anxious.

A muscle in his jaw twitched, and he sighed. "M'sorry. It's just, you know, seven years and she still ruins my life at every opportunity." He tried to grin, but it fell flat. William shifted uncomfortably. "I don't do so well with the whole, 'let's relive our past' bit. I'm pretty much here-and-now."

"I'd kind of noticed," she grinned wryly. After knocking back the last of her wine, she laughed quietly. "So do we want to get dessert? Or just get out of here?"

Will set down his fork and pulled his napkin from his lap. "Let's get out of here," he chuckled, reaching for the bill.

Courtney beat him to it. "I've got it."

He frowned. "But-"

"No buts. I can swing it. My treat. If you feel bad, you can get us ice cream or something down by the boardwalk, okay?"

Will shook his head, defeated. "Alright. Though I can't possibly imagine eating again."

Blue eyes sparkled at him. "Guess we'll just have to work up that appetite."

Chapter Nine

April 14, 2003

Dear Diary,

I get to go over to Chase's house today. That's awesome. I hope we get to do something fun. Like go swimming. Or play in the sprinklers. Maybe we can bake some cookies, or paint. Whatever happens, I know it will be fun. And I can tease Courtney about going out with Dad. We'll probably sing that song to her, you know, Courtney and Dad are sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G... Because they did. I saw them. And it wasn't a kiss on the cheek like Jordan's mom gives him when she drops him off at soccer practice. It was on the mouth. Ew! I hope they didn't give each other cooties. But I don't think Dad has cooties, he's too nice. Do grownups even get cooties? I hope not. That would be gross.

Love,

Megan

**********

November, 1995

A glass tumbler full of scotch shattered against the kitchen wall. "You will listen to me when I'm talking to you!" Hank Summers snarled, shaking an unsteady fist at his daughter.

"No! I'm done listening. I can't do this anymore. God, I would love to be doing anything else right now - I'm just so sick of all your bullshit!" Buffy screamed, tears of frustration welling up in her eyes.

"Buffy Anne Summers," Joyce scowled, standing beside her husband. "You cannot talk to us this way. This is insane-"

"And you're making me insane! The two of you are at each other's throats, twenty-four seven! Dad, you fucking moved out! But every other weekend, I come home, and you're sleeping together! Mom, you hate his guts, but you're sleeping with him? God, figure it out already! I can't be here like this!" the teen sobbed, clutching her duffle bag closer to her.

Joyce's response was deceptively calm. Reaching out, she placed her hand on her daughter's shoulder. "Buffy, you need help. I know this is hard on all of us-"

Buffy threw off her mom's hands. "I'm not crazy! What I need is for you to chill. I have to go! I've got to get out of here..." Tears streamed freely down her cheeks.

Joyce's eyes narrowed, and she shook her head firmly. Her jaw tightened. "No. I am not letting you out of this house."

Her lips trembled, but her voice didn't falter. "You can't stop me."

Infuriated, Joyce grabbed her by the arms. "Oh yes, I-"

Again she was interrupted, this time by a violent shove that knocked her into the kitchen table. Hank was speechless with drunken rage.

For a split second, Buffy just looked at her parents, then shook her head. Turning, she opened the back door.

Angrily, Joyce shouted after her. "You walk out of this house, don't even think about coming back!"

And yet, Buffy never paused.

In the driveway was a black DeSoto, engine running. Spike, punctual as always, was waiting to get her for their date. Torn between hysterical tears and equally hysterical relief, Buffy tore open the door to Spike's borrowed car. "Let's go," she bit out, slamming it shut behind her.

Spike took one look at her disheveled appearance and packed bags, and peeled out.

"God, I'm sorry," Buffy sighed, making a token attempt at straightening her hair. "I know we were supposed to go to the beach today, and stuff, but..."

"I get it," he nodded sympathetically. "Want to go over to Faith's and crash for a while? Don't think she'll mind."

Buffy nodded. As they drove in silence, her mind raced. What am I going to do now? I can't go home - not that I want to, not that I would. But where will I stay? I know there's shelters and stuff, maybe I should. Have to ask Spike, I can't just assume he'll want me to come home with him, not that I've ever been to his house... Maybe Faith'll want another roomie, but what will I use for rent? I don't have anything... Her thoughts grew bleaker, and she spiraled downward into a knot of anxiety.

Spike glanced over at his girlfriend as he made a sharp left. I wonder what the morons did now... and is she running away again? Where's the chit planning on staying? ... Oh god, don't let her ask to stay with me. I mean, I would, but... Angel's head would pop. Would be kind of funny, but... not now! Not with all this shit going down over Connor. If she's in the house, she's a liability. She's not one of us, I mean, I trust her, but the others won't. They can't. And it could get her killed. His stomach did an uncomfortable flip at that thought. Reluctance to commit assassination aside, Spike knew that Angel would have no problem in having a liability put down. Permanently.

Inevitably, Buffy's frantic thoughts circled back to her biggest concern. Her hands tightened convulsively around her bag, and the pamphlet she'd secreted inside. For the hundredth time since that morning, she repeated her new mantra to herself.

It's not a baby, it's a product of conception, a mass of cells, a clot of tissue. It's not a baby...

**********

April 14, 2003

Megan squealed as she leapt into the Stevenson's pool. Bobbing up through the surface of the water, she laughed, snorting water out of her mouth and nose.

Michael giggled, watching her. He stamped his foot impatiently as he waited for Courtney to finish blowing up his wing-floaters. Finally, the bright orange rings around his little biceps were filled, and she gave him a swat on the behind.

"You're good to go, Michael-monster." She shaded her eyes from the afternoon sun as he went over to the edge of the swimming pool. He dipped one foot in the water, and then ran over to the stairs. He got in to his ankles, then stopped.

"It's cold!" The tow-headed four-year old did a little dance of uncertainty on the top step of the pool.

Chase gave him a look of superiority, the specific look that a seven-year old who knows how to swim gives his little brother. "You always say that. Stop being a baby."

Megan giggled at the exchange. "You're both silly. Yeah, it's cold, but it feels good!" She splashed a little wave in Michael's direction.

Courtney slipped on her sunglasses and settled down on the lounge chair where she could keep an eye on the pool. Picking up her dog-eared copy of The Last DragonLord, she began to read.

Back in the water, Michael had finally succumbed to peer pressure, and was happily splashing in the shallow end.

"Are you going to take swimming class this summer?" Megan wanted to know.

"No," Chase replied, ducking under. "But I'm going to day camp. I think I'm going to be learning about the ocean and stuff, because it's by the beach."

Megan stared at him, then splashed. "But it's summer! You don't have to learn!"

Chase splashed back. "You're silly!" he laughed. "It's fun! We get to play on the beach, and learn about sharks and dolphins, and all sorts of cool stuff."

She relented, dog paddling out of his splash-range. "I guess it sounds neat."

He stuck his tongue out. "You like school, and camp is better. So why would it not be fun?"

Megan was spared from having to express her feelings on the subject, because Michael found a ball. The soggy Nerf football slapped the water in front of her.

"Tag!" he squealed, following up with a splash.

She backpedaled furiously. "No! It didn't hit me!"

"Uh!" the younger child pouted, then threw himself out to try to recover the ball. Much splashing and wrestling ensued. "Not fair!" Michael called out. "You two swim better than me!"

Megan immediately drew closer to him. "It's not hard, you just have to kick with your- hey!" The ball bounced off the top of her head.

Michael laughed, while Chase just rolled his eyes. "You're such a girl. I can't believe you fell for that," the older boy told her, flipping his wet hair out of his eyes.

Michael giggled again. Megan's gaze narrowed. "What did you say?"

"I said," Chase taunted with a grin, "that you're such a girl. You probably throw like one, too," he teased.

With a mock growl, she launched herself at him, ready to destroy her target.

Well away from the pool's splash radius, Courtney continued to read. Suddenly, a shadow fell across her book, and she glanced up.

"What book?" Will asked with a grin.

Wordlessly, she tilted it so that he could read the cover.

"Huh. You know, Maurynna's his soul-twin. And Sherrine is going to die," he commented.

"I know," Courtney replied blithely. "I've read it a few times." Sitting up, she gestured to the chair beside hers. "Pop a squat."

"Pop a what? Never mind. Must be a midwestern thing." Nevertheless, he sat down. "Always did like that book," he continued along the original line of conversation.

She grinned at him. "Yeah. I always thought it was pretty... real, you know? How Linden has this big, heavy affair with Sherrine, and everyone thinks that the two of them are supposed to be together, but in the end, he winds up with Maurynna. And no one knew they were anything but friends."

For the first time, William noticed that Courtney had a dimple - just a tiny one, on her right cheek. It was cute. "I know what you mean. Plus, every good book has mischevious children to make things interesting," he laughed.

Courtney joined in his amusement with a nod. "Yeah, but it was so sad when Linden and Maurynna were fighting, and little Kella and Rann got caught in the middle..." Her expression was tinged with a detached sadness.

Will nodded seriously. "Kids take it hard when things happen between adults they trust." He gave her a meaningful glance.

Courtney immediately sobered. "Will, I'm being up front. I like you - I like you a lot. I enjoy your company, and moreso, I value your friendship. The last thing I want is for Meg, or the boys, or you to get hurt." She gave a little half-smile.

William relaxed. "I just wanted to be sure," his voice lowered, "that after the other night..." He trailed off.

Courtney's smile blossomed into a full grin. "The other night was one of the best nights in my life. And that's okay." She shrugged. "It doesn't have to mean anything more, not if you don't want it too." A chuckle. "After all, we did slam back that bottle of wine."

Will snorted. "Yeah, right. God, we must be the most boring dates in the history of California."

"Hey!" she protested. "I object! I have grandparents who live out here, who are much more boring than we are! Plus, our date was not boring." Her eyes sparkled with mischief. "At least, I wouldn't say that."

His expression turned wistful. "Really? I mean," a touch of red colored his cheeks, and his voice dropped even further. "It's been a while for me..."

Courtney grinned. "Trust me. Not boring." She glanced over at the pool, but the kids were happily splashing away, oblivious to the conversation being held not fifteen feet away. "Not at all."

"I feel the need to say 'thank you', but somehow, it feels conceited," Will complained, and got the laugh he was looking for.

"Well, you're welcome." She gave him a once-over. "So how long has it been? I mean, if you don't mind saying."

Will groaned softly. "Uh, three years, I think? A while back, some of the ladies of the town took it upon themselves to find me a woman." He snorted. "Wound up dating some chit, name of Harmony Kendall." He shook his head sadly. "The most annoying piece of work to ever draw breath."

A giggle. "Wait, is this that Harmony? The aerobics instructor down at the gym?"

Another nod.

"Oh, god!" she gasped, bursting into a fit of laugher. "I am so sorry!"

"Shut up!" Will hissed, blushing. "I was lonely!"

A wet ball landed by Courtney's chair. Still chortling, she picked it up. "Hey," she called out. "Someone lose this?"

Meg waved her hands frantically.

With a wink at Will, Courtney drew back and launched the football at his daughter. A splash hit all three children as the ball contacted the water.

The tall strawberry blonde turned back to her conversation with a deep sigh. She shook her head ruefully. "Damn. Harmony Kendall."

"Shut up!"

Chapters 10-12

Credit where credit is due: The Last DragonLord, by Joanne Bertin. Go check it out from your local library, everything they said was true. Good book.

WRITE because I need feedback to live. Love me? *puppydog eyes*

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Many thanks to The Spuffy Archives and their idea factory, from where I got the inspiration for this fic.