Summary: Ever wonder what happened to the baby that Spike saved from the Fell brethren?
Notes: written for the spuffy kink ficathon for pfeifferpack
Spike hesitated at the door, looking in on the bedroom: the two shelves on the wall, built in closet, curtains with pictures of skateboarders on them and a bed covered with Rocket force drawings - hiding a small boy out of sight. Blond hair peeked out from under the comforter, gently snoring. He'd never admit to it, no matter how often Spike would tease him on it. The nightlight burned behind a plastic figure of Winnie the Pooh, reflecting softly and chasing the shadows away. He smiled, holding the wooden doorframe and desperate to push back his anger, his rage at an unfair universe that wouldn't let him have this.
Wesley cringed at something in his sleep and Spike had to fight the urge to jump into the room and take the boy in his arms, comfort him. He knew better though, it was just a dream, just a mirage. Can't protect a child from that, not even your own.
"Spike." She softly touched as shoulder as she said his name. He couldn't even face her. "It's time."
Dawn sounded almost motherly, like a spot of Tara resounded through her voice and he let her guide him out, into the living room where he nearly crumbled. Ready to cry, if it weren't for the audience.
"He's all I've got."
Dawn understood, but she wouldn't let him lose himself in his grief. "His father will pick him up in half an hour."
Giles hadn't even bothered to sit down, even after Spike had offered him a seat. The watcher hadn't even taken his coat off.
"He asked that you not be here when he arrived." Giles tone was flat, emotionless. It made Spike want to hit him in the face and throw him out of their home, his home..
That man - that stranger - wasn't Wesley's father. He wasn't the one who raised him, who'd loved him. He was just a man who happened to sire him. And yet, here he stood, once again turned into the bad guy.
"Buffy would expect you to do the right thing Spike." He snorted as if to make clear that he didn't share that belief. "But I can assure you; we are ready to deal with it if you don't."
Spike growled, Dawn's hand was on his, calming him down. He held in his rage, hating how everyone expected him to fuck this up, to do the wrong thing. Giles, Angel,… half of them had expected him to run. Like he'd do that to his boy. Even if he wanted to.
That was his boy in that room, his boy that they expected him to give up to the couple that handed him over to a demon tribe. Well not the couple, nobody knew where the woman was, but who was to say that the husband was any better.
"I'll leave, don't be here when I come back."
He grabbed his coat and slowly, carefully moved past the slayers on his way out.
God he needed a drink, he needed something, so that when he'd come back to his empty apartment, he wouldn't have to think about the empty rooms, his empty job… his empty life.