Log in

No account? Create an account
11 March 2006 @ 04:33 pm
Father of the Brat 4/?  
Title: Father of the Brat
Author: Nicole
Chapter: 4/?
Pairings: S/B, W/O, X/A, and mentions of Dawn/Connor
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: None that I can think of, unless you count the rating.
Summary: Journalist William 'Spike' Giles is a bachelor who comes and goes as he pleases. The last thing he expects is to find social worker Buffy Summers on his doorstep. Now he's got to deal with the fact that he's a father and that he and Buffy know each other from years before. Only this time around he's attracted to her and he's got a daughter who can help...
Disclaimer: The characters aren't mine, they belong to Joss Whedon. Also, the general idea of this story were inspired by a book with the same title (the title fit so well, I just had to keep it!).
Author's Note: And as promised, chapter four is now posted! Dawn has officially entered the story folks. Enjoy and feedback is always welcome!

Previous chapters can be found here.

Image hosting by Photobucket

Spike looked up just in time to see Buffy approaching. He smiled. “Well, hello Buffy. Long time, no see,” he told her. Her step barely faltered and some unknown emotion flickered over her face.

“You remembered,” she said simply, coming to a stop in front of him.

“Yeah. The initials threw me for awhile, though. It was clever using them,” Spike stared at her, wondering if she’d show any sort of reaction on her face or if she'd remain emotionless.

“I’ve always used my initials. I-it’s not like I kept it from you deliberately.” She quickly averted her eyes.

Didn’t you? Spike wondered. Out loud he said, “Well, I’d say we’ve got some catching up to do. Wouldn’t you pet?” This time it was distinct panic that crossed over her face.


“Doesn’t arrive for another hour at least. Which gives us plenty of time to sit in that nice little airport restaurant over there and talk,” Spike finished, taking her arm and practically dragging her in the direction of the restaurant before stopping.

“What?” Buffy asked. Spike pointed.

“Wendy’s!” He resumed dragging her.

“Oh, Lord,” Buffy muttered, although she fought hard not to smile at the blonde’s antics. Spike’s eyes had lit up at the sight of the sign.

“You’re not going to deny me a frosty are you?”

“God forbid,” Buffy deadpanned. Spike grinned as they reached the queue.

“What do you want?” Spike asked, looking at the menu.

“Nothing,” Buffy said.

Spike looked at her in disbelief and raised an eyebrow. “Nothing?” he asked.

Buffy shrugged as he continued to stare at her. “I’m not hungry.”

Spike shook his head. “You’re too skinny. Get fries at least.”

Buffy sighed in exasperation. “Spike…”

“You need to eat,” he insisted stubbornly.

Buffy rolled her eyes and shook her head, much the same way Spike had earlier. “Fine. I’ll get some fries,” she relented.

He grinned triumphantly and took his place in line. “Why don’t you find us a table, pet? I’ll get the food,” he suggested.

“What food? It’s just ice cream and fries,” Buffy muttered as she left to go and find a table. Buffy made herself comfortable in a booth and studied Spike, wondering what kind of father he’d be. Something told her that once he got used to it, he’d do just fine.

Then her mind and her eyes began to wander as her gaze shifted from the back of his head and moved further down.

Funny, she didn’t remember his butt being so cute.

Buffy flushed and turned to look out the window. She really needed to quit doing that. She was just the social worker for him and his daughter. Nothing more. And if Spike ever found out that she had entertained the idea of actually being anything more…she didn’t want to think of the consequences.

She was taken away from her thoughts when Spike put the tray down on the table. Her eyes widened.

“I thought you were just getting a frosty!” she exclaimed, staring at the food.

“What’s a frosty without a couple burgers, fries, and a soda?” Spike asked, grinning. “Here’s your fries. Got you a large,” he added as he turned a carton of fries towards her. As she watched, he happily began unwrapping his burger and took a bite. Slowly, she ate a couple of fries.

“So,” Spike began, breaking the silence. “I’m guessing you never got married to some poor bastard or anything. Your name’s still Summers.”

Buffy looked at him. “Oh, I found some bastard to marry me. Riley was in the military. And about five years ago, when he felt I paid too much attention to my job and cancer-ridden mother and not enough to him, he left me for Samantha. He and Samantha are expecting their second child in a couple of months,” she said. Spike stared at her, feeling like a heel for bringing it up, even though he hadn’t known.

“Buffy…” he began but she cut him off.

“Don’t worry about it. I’m fine. Besides, ‘Buffy Finn’ just didn’t sound right,” she said casually.

“What about your mum? Is Joyce all right?” Spike asked. His burger was momentarily forgotten as he waited for an answer.

“Mom’s fine. She went into remission about four years ago. She passed the two year checkpoint so they don’t think it’ll be coming back,” she assured him. Spike felt a rush of relief go over him. He had met Joyce Summers a few times and had really liked her. She always treated him decently. He smiled.

“I’m glad.” Spike looked down. “She’s a nice lady. Makes a bloody good cup of hot chocolate.” At that comment, Buffy smiled. Then she glanced at her watch, as Spike was finishing up his second burger. Her eyes widened and she grabbed the wrapper and began to crumple it.

“Hey!” Spike protested, grabbing at the last piece of burger that had been on it. He stuffed it in his mouth as she began throwing things away. “What the bloody hell are you doing, woman?”

“Hurry up, Spike!” Buffy snapped as she continued to throw things away while Spike grabbed what food he could. As her hand neared the frosty, Spike snatched it away and, shooting a defiant glare in her direction, began eating it.

“Why?” Spike demanded.

“Dawn’s plane will be landing any minute! Now hurry up you bleached blonde lug!” Spike stared at her and raised an eyebrow.

“Well, that’s a bit rude isn’t it? Is that anyway to talk to a bloke?” Then, Spike realized what she had said. “Bloody hell, the plane’s landing now?”

“Yes!” Buffy started walking towards the door as Spike jumped up and followed, throwing away his empty frosty cup on the way.

“Slow down, will you? I don’t think we’re going to miss her coming off the plane,” Spike grumbled as Buffy quickened her steps.

“I don’t want her to get off the plane and not have us there. Specifically, not have you there,” Buffy replied, without looking at him. Spike nodded and kept pace with her as they neared the gate just in time to see the first few passengers enter the airport. Buffy turned to look at him as they stopped. “You know those people who don’t like to say ‘I told you so’? I’m not one of them. I told you so.” Spike just looked at her as she gave him a smug smile.

A young girl with long dark brown hair stepped into the terminal. Her eyes were bright blue—the same blue as Spike’s—and she was wearing all black.

Oh yeah. She was his kid all right.

Her entire attitude just screamed “I’m Spike’s daughter!” Or at least, that’s what Spike thought. He could practically hear her telling the world to go screw itself, which had been his basic thought process when he was a teenager.

She glanced around and when Buffy took a step forward, she headed towards them and came to a stop in front of Spike. She stared at him.

“So, are you my dad or what?” she asked. Spike stared back at Dawn unblinkingly.

“Looks like it,” he replied. She paused when she heard his accent and looked slightly startled.

“Nobody told me you were British.” Dawn continued looking up at him. “What’s England like?” At the question, Spike smiled.

“Bloody wonderful. Lived there for a long time and then my dad got the job here the summer before I was going to start high school.”

“Cool.” After that, there was silence. Spike shifted his weight as Dawn’s gaze stopped on Buffy. “Are you my stepmom?” Buffy’s eyes widened.

“No, I’m not. I’m Buffy Summers. I’m here to make sure you and dad get off to a good start,” Buffy said.

“Oh, the social worker.” Dawn nodded knowingly.

“Yeah, the social worker.” Buffy glanced at Spike and then at Dawn. “I’ll be right over there,” she told them, indicating an area that wasn’t too far away. Silence fell between the two as she walked away, leaving them alone. As if in silent agreement, they sat down.

“So…I was sorry to hear about your mum,” Spike said after awhile. Dawn shrugged.

“Yeah. It sucked.” She paused. “So, can I get a tattoo?”

“What?” Spike asked, shocked.

“A tattoo? Can I get one? Mom was going to let me before she, you know, checked out on me.”

“Checked out on you? Is that how you talk about your mum’s death?” Spike stared at her, not believing his ears.

“Well, I mean, I’m sorry she’s dead and all, but she was never really around in the first place, you know?” Dawn shrugged again, something Spike was beginning to realize she did often. “It’s kind of hard to miss her when she wasn’t there in the first place.”

Strangely, Spike understood exactly what she meant, though he didn’t really know how. Rupert Giles had been the kind of parent who was around whenever you needed him and whenever you didn’t.

“I understand,” Spike told her, nodding slowly. Dawn turned to look at him again.

“So, can I?”


“What?” Dawn demanded. She stared at him in shock.

“No,” Spike repeated calmly. He had a feeling that she’d rarely, if ever, heard that word. So, he decided to clarify it for her, just in case. “I said no.” Dawn jumped out of her seat.

“Oh, man, I should’ve known what a bastard you’d be,” she fumed. Spike stared at her in shock himself as he stood up.

“What did you just say?” he asked, sure he had heard wrong. What kind of teenager spoke like that? Spike started to wonder before mentally answering his own question with: practically all of them.

“I said you were a class-A bastard,” Dawn shot back at him before turning in the direction of the gate. Spike grabbed her arm.

“And just where do you think you’re going?” he demanded, his own anger beginning to build. He told himself to calm down. Her mother had died and she had just met her real father. Of course it was going to be a shock.

Still, that wasn’t really much of an excuse to start insulting him when he said no to a bloody tattoo.

“I’m going back to New York. I’m out of here. You, to put it mildly, suck. And I’m not staying with you.” From a distance, Spike could see Buffy’s eyes darting between the two of them and he almost turned to look at her. Almost.

“Like hell you’re not,” Spike told her. Dawn’s eyes narrowed as she glared at him.

“Hate to break it to you, Blondie, but just because you bumped pelvises with my mom years ago, doesn’t make you my father. Which means that you have no right to tell me what to do,” Dawn calmly informed him. Buffy walked up before Spike could respond.

“Dawn, I’m not going to say I know what you’re going through because I don’t,” she began. “But I am going to tell you that, yes, you do have to stay here. Yes, he is your father. By blood and by law. And that same law is what requires you to stay with him. It won’t be easy, but I’d like to hope that you’d at least give it a chance.” The entire time she spoke, Buffy kept her eyes steadily on Dawn, not once glancing at Spike. And Dawn began to feel a connection with her. She sighed as she wrenched her arm out of Spike’s grasp and turned back to him.

“I’m not calling you Daddy,” she shot at him. Spike responded to her attitude in the most natural way for him—with an attitude of his own.

“Who asked you to?” he snapped back. Buffy glanced at the two of them and just barely managed to hold back a sigh. Oh, yeah, things were off to a great start.
Basiliobasilio_the_cat on March 12th, 2006 02:12 am (UTC)
Loved it :D I hope you update soon