Summary: Ever wonder what happened to the baby that Spike saved from the Fell brethren?
Notes: written for the spuffy kink ficathon for pfeifferpack
When they arrived at Wesley's new home, it was still light outside. Spike stared through the necro tempered glass out to the picket fences neighborhood where his boy was growing up. A child size bike leaned against the wall, webs had formed between the steer and the saddle, there was a swing in the garden, moss was growing on the seat.
At first sight it was your perfectly normal American suburb with lawns as green as you could only find in advertisements, small family cars, a tree in every yard, and flowers lining the footpaths.
Gunn went in first, with Andrew and Dawn. Illyria sat in the front seat like a blue make up doll waiting to be used; Angel and Spike ignored her as they waited in the backseat. It usually wasn't a good idea to run through the daylight, especially if you didn't know if you were gonna be invited or locked out.
After a few minutes, well more like half an hour- apparently it took some convincing - Gunn was standing in the door motioning at them to come in. Spike grabbed his blanket, and rushed over to the door. He was in as soon as the stranger gave him an invitation.
Angel of course had to be a ponce, he started opening his umbrella before opening the door and then slowly walked to the house, poofy as ever.
Spike barely even looked at the man who was supposed to be Wesley's father; searching instead for signs of the boy himself. Toys, barely touched. A picture of a sad looking boy was posed on the mantelpiece. His boy.
He didn't even turn when he first felt her presence.
She stood right behind him, he couldn't face her, hadn't been able to do so, since he first heard she actually married the Immortal.
"I didn't know that Giles had asked your help."
That made him turn right quick.
"Well what do you expect? He's my boy too. If you bastards hadn't made me give him up, he'd still be safe at home, not God knows where…"
And as he looked at her, and thought about what she'd said, he realized, she didn't know. And it wasn't her fault that Giles could never see him as anything other than a monster. It wasn't her fault that Wes was gone and she 'was' here to help.
He almost apologized for his outburst, but he couldn't.
Why did he have to be the adult here?
That was supposed to be Angel's gig, or Gunn's. He was supposed to be snarky guy, second hooligan on the left, ready for a rampage. Not mister, 'hold in your temper', while his son, 'His' boy was going through who knows what.
"He's my son." The stranger sounded defensive. Wesley's dad, Spike hadn't even bothered to know his name. He hadn't wanted to know his name.
"So they tell me." Spike's response sounded harsher than he'd meant it to be. The man looked taken back.
"When did you lose him, you know lose track of him?"
He was still silent.
"What you went to the mall, got busy, looked up and realized you forgot the kid somewhere?"
"How dare you?" the man's barely restrained anger was useless.
Who the fuck cared about his sensibilities.
The vampire and the man faced off, both ready to growl at the other. Buffy tried to calm Spike down, Andrew tried to say something soothing to the other.
"They said he'd soddin well be safe with you. They said he'd be safe!"
And before you knew it both fathers had their eyes leaking, even if they both pretended it was just dust, sharing a common pain and rage, where neither could talk till Brian, that's what Andrew called him, started apologizing, crying about how it was his fault. By the time Giles arrived, Brian was taking Spike upstairs to Wesley's room.
Both hoping the vampire would find some kind of clue.