Acceptable Losses :: Chapter Seven.
Title: Acceptable Losses
Author: fenderlove
Pairing: Spike/Angel
Rating: PG for this chapter.
Summary: Spike and Angel are making a go of it after returning from Hell in Angel: After the Fall. Unfortunately, being a single vampire dad living with your pain-in-the-ass boyfriend and Journalism major son makes Hell seem almost preferable.



Acceptable Losses
Chapter Seven :: "Don't Forget Our Motto."

"Does it hurt?" Buffy asked as she snacked on a substantial scoop of chocolate blueberry gelato nestled precariously in a sugar-coated waffle cone.

Spike sighed heavily, but decided to humor the visibly pregnant Slayer, "Not unless I want it to."

Buffy nodded, licking a dribble of chocolate from the back of her hand, "So you've never you know to Angel?"

"Like I could mount his massive ass; be like a Poodle trying to get a leg up on a Bullmastiff," Spike shoved his hands into his duster pockets as they walked down the city sidewalk, keeping an eye on the four young Slayerettes on their first L.A. patrol since their training began.

"Angel won't let you, will he?" she mused, trying to hide her smirk behind her gelato.

"That would require him removing the stick that is wedged up there," Spike grumbled quietly, and then called out to the eldest Padawanette, "Daisy, keep closer to the Little Bit."

Buffy watched the blonde teen jog over to the youngest Slayer and then glanced up at Spike, "You used to call Dawn that."

Spike smiled sadly, "Dawn probably wouldn't want any pet names from me anymore."

"When has someone not wanting a nickname stopped you before?" Buffy nudged him with her elbow.

"I think it suits Flo', so she can wear the mantle of littlest one since Dawn outgrew it," Spike leaned down and stole a lick from her gelato.

Buffy jerked the waffle cone away from him, "Hey! You're trying to steal a pregnant woman's chocolate? Do you want to lose an appendage?"

Smirking and licking a stray bit of chocolate from the corner of his mouth, Spike replied, "I live dangerously."

"So," Buffy ventured, "how did you and Angel start, um, being a couple?"

Spike thought about it for a moment, "It just sort of happened, really. We got this case last year, and the investigation led us to Seattle."

"Let me guess. You booked a hotel room with double beds and they gave you a king... and there was a hot tub," Buffy got a far off, wistful look on her face, "Or were you two in the middle of a sexy sting operation? A confined, intimate space all night long?"

"I think you've put too much thought into this," Spike quirked an eyebrow.

"So there weren't any scented candles?" Buffy stuck out her lower lip in a cute pout.

"More like an over-full ashtray and several empty bags of crisps," Spike replied before continuing, "We were driving down this back-road in the middle of a sudden, blinding snowstorm. Himself was driving, and I had fallen asleep. The next thing I know is the car is stuck down an embankment. The snow was so deep that we couldn't get the doors open, and the sun was coming up so..."

Buffy grinned, "You had to snuggle together for warmth?"

With a wicked glint in his eyes, Spike appeared to be enjoying the memory, "Among other things."

"Is that when you started living with him?"

"Why is it that you assume I moved in with him?"

"Please," Buffy rolled her eyes.

"Yeah, well, Angel and I dated first."

Incredulously, Buffy repeated, "You dated?"

Spike looked quite proud of himself, "Yes, we dated."

"Like to dinner and movies and dancing?"

"Oh, God, not dancing," Spike shook his head, "Never dancing. I wouldn't let Angel humiliate himself like that... But everything else, yes, normal dates."

A tiny stab of jealous crept into Buffy's heart as she observed the soft smile Spike had as he was obviously having fond memories of his and Angel's dating-related escapades, "You never did that stuff with me."

"Because I was your dirty little secret that your friends couldn't know about. Plus, I'm fairly certain you would have punched me in the face for asking you to do something publicly," Spike spat, his tone a lot harsher than he had ever intended.

Buffy didn't immediately have a retort ready, but eventually her mouth ran away from her brain, "You know, you're the one who didn't even bother to contact me after you came back. It's not my fault that you didn't believe me when I opened up to you."

Hurt is a strange emotion. It can make you sad, make you angry, and sometimes it does both at the same time. It can rear its ugly head even when one is in a good mood. Hurt can sneak up on a person, bring back painful memories that just start spilling out. It can exaggerate those memories, force you to say things you don't mean as well as to say things that you do mean in a more hateful, less tactful way.

While Buffy tossed the rest of her gelato into a nearby trashcan with a disgusted look on her face, Spike replied, "I was dying, you dingbat, and I saw exactly what you were trying to do."

"What that's supposed to mean?"

Spike took an unneeded breath, his gaze askance, "I believed you."

Buffy's eyes widened, "You did? But-"

"Every Slayer's got a death wish, and you just saw another way to fulfill yours. Thought third time would be the charm? I couldn't let you make me a part of that," he quickened his pace up the sidewalk, regretting his words before he could stop himself from saying them.

Buffy's voice grew louder as she waddled after him, "You self-righteous bastard- Don't you walk away! Damn it, slow down!"

The vampire waited for her to catch up, his expression softened and more contrite. Before anything more could be said between them, a shrill cry of "SPIKE!" came from an alleyway ahead of them. In their bickering, Spike and Buffy had lost sight of the girls. Reglisse tumbled backwards into a row of trash cans at the opening of the alley. Pistache soon followed, landing on top of her twin. Daisy and Florence sprinted from across the street to aid the pair. There was a low grumbling sound followed by a roar as the oldest and youngest Slayerettes entered the alleyway, and then a scream.

Rushing to the alleyway with Buffy several steps behind, Spike reached the girls to see Daisy attempting to wrestle her foot from the jaws of a creature that resembled a gargoyle on steroids. It crouched on all fours, shaking its head, causing Daisy to scream again as her ankle was savagely twisted. Florence had her back to the brick wall, clutching her flanged mace tightly in her little hands though she made no move to use it. Reglisse and Pistache were trying to get to their feet when Spike ran by them, grabbing both their fallen stakes from the ground as he went.

Kicking the beast in the head to get its attention, Spike lifted the stakes and rammed both of them into the demon's yellowed eyes as it lifted its head to growl at him. The demon reared back on its hindlegs, letting go of Daisy's foot allowing her to scramble away. Spike was tackled by the boulder-like creature, its thorny shoulder ramming into the vampire's stomach. As it pinned Spike to the ground, it shook its head, trying to dislodge the stakes protruding from its eye sockets as rank blood rained down with each turn. The demon's mouth opened, revealing ragged canines as it leaned down, hoping to snack on any part of Spike that it could latch onto.

Before Spike could become the demon's Lunchable, the steel tip of Florence's flanged mace came sailing through the air, striking the creature in the temple. Florence swung her mace like a baseball bat, perfect follow-through, as though the demon's head was an incoming pitch. And then she just kept swinging after the demon rolled to its side, yelping. The youngest Slayer didn't stop until Spike's hands gripped her arms to still her.

Florence looked up at Spike with her big green eyes, cast-off flecks of blood spattering her face. Her expression was equal parts fear and confusion.

"Thanks for the save, Pet," Spike smiled, "and congrats."

The girl blinked, "Congrats?"

Spike gestured to the now ex-demon, "Yeah, for your first slay-n-rescue."

Florence let her mace drop to the pavement and wrapped her thin arms around Spike's waist, hugging him tightly. The vampire good-naturedly tried to disentangle himself from her grip, but she was holding on with all the strength she had left to muster.

Buffy was kneeling by Daisy's side as she clutched her bloodied ankle, "I don't think anything is broken, but you'll need to stay off of it."

Reglisse and Pistache helped their fellow Slayer up, allowing her to lean on them for support as she hopped on her uninjured foot.

Daisy's face was very red as she tried to stand, and she muttered quietly, "I think I peed my pants."

"Given some of the stuff I've seen, there've probably been some moments I would have too," Spike tried for some levity, "if I still had to bother with that particular bodily function, that is."

*****

Angel and Connor were out on casework when the group returned. Daisy had locked herself in the hall bathroom while the other girls were huddled on the couch. The twins were sporting some fairly deep concrete burns on their calves and knees while Florence, having finally let go of Spike after much coaxing, sat quietly in the corner of the sofa she favored.

Spike knocked on the bathroom door, trying to get Daisy to come out from her hiding place, "It's not a big deal."

"Yeah, I imagine that it happens to a lot of demon-fighters," Buffy offered, rambling a little as she tried to come up with comforting things to say. "Not me, personally... but since I've got pregnant, I've come pretty close to it... Organs are getting kind of squished... Kinda feels like a rock on my bladder... Plus I get this weird spotting every now and then..."

"Just shut up!" Daisy shouted from behind the door.

Buffy mumbled, "Reminds me of Dawn's teenaged years."

"But Dawnie didn't have the strength to rip the door off its hinges in an angst-rage though," Spike replied as he wondered if bribing a girl with promises of Disneyland and pizza to get her out of the bathroom were appropriate in this situation.

The bathroom door swung open, and Daisy, now dressed in her pajamas, stormed out as much as she could with a limp. She hobbled to the couch and joined the other Slayers, sitting down with a huff and her arms folded. A deep blush marked her present embarrassment, and she was trying very hard not to look at anyone directly.

In the hallway, Spike caught Buffy steeling herself with a deep breath. Her expression was suddenly very stoic, and she had placed her hands on her hips. She had already taken a few steps into the living room when the vampire pulled her back.

"Hang on, Luv. I know what you're about to do, and I beg you not to go in there and make a speech," he whispered, letting his hand rest on her elbow. After Buffy gave him a rather puzzled look, he continued, "These girls don't need some Patton-esque bit of rah-rah right now. They had a bad night, and Daisy pissed herself. Trust me, they don't want to hear you speechifying about it."

The stalwart posturing disappeared, and Buffy seemed at a loss, "What do you want me to do?"

Spike smiled, "Just talk to them. Be Buffy."

"Which Buffy? General Buffy? Slayer Buffy? Soon-to-be-single-mother Buffy?" she replied quietly, sounding a little defeated.

"I prefer Malibu Buffy myself."

That particular response earned a snort of laughter from the Slayer, and Spike felt particularly proud of himself. It, at least, broke some of the tension.

"The girls are scared. They really don't feel like "real" Slayers," Spike added more seriously. "Maybe it's important to listen more than talk."

Buffy bit her lip to keep from giggling, "When did you turn into Dr. Phil?"

Shrugging, Spike answered, "I watch a lot of pointless daytime TV. If it's not my soaps, it's Oprah... and Maury... Speaking of which, I was thinking that maybe you could call his 1-800. I mean, what a great segment- Pregnant Slayers and the Vampires Who Probably Didn't Father Their Unborn Spawn..."

Saying it was totally worth the slight kick to the shin he received.

Trying to be more casual in her approach, Buffy attempted to sit on the coffee table in front of the girls. It was less casual and more limb-flail-y than she had hoped it would be, but at least she managed to stay upright. The young Slayers stared at her (well, Daisy looked everywhere but her, her eyes darting around as she played with the hem of her pajama top nervously). It was quiet for a few minutes before Buffy bravely set about getting the conversation going.

"Tonight wasn't much fun," she began.

The girls shifted around on the couch, not saying anything.

Sighing, Buffy started again, but then paused. She felt so tired. Her brain replayed all the meaningless peptalks she had given before her pregnancy caused her to be cloistered away by her friends. All the useless nattering about honor and the noble tradition of the Slayer lineage that Buffy really knew nothing about. She had not been given the chance to study the Slayer history as a Potential as others had before her and had only begun leafing through some Watcher diaries much later.

Kendra would have been better at this. I bet she would have been a great teacher for the girls. Buffy had often thought to herself though she had to admit that studying histories and the Watchers Council-approved narratives left behind were pretty useless on the practical side of things.

For the younger Slayers who had been hand-picked by Destiny or Fate or what-have-you to have the life expectancy of an ice cream cone in a volcano, studying and writing little essays represented normalcy from what they had been taken away from; whether they loved it or hated it, a classroom setting did put some new Slayers at ease for the first few weeks before reality set in. Reality meant being shipped out on a moment's notice to another country, to be placed under new leadership, and to finally realize that reading about the Slayers of the past had absolutely zero bearing on what they would be have to endure. If anything, reading about Ye Old Slayers only reinforced the inevitability of death, to be a footnote in a history no one would really ever know about outside of their circle.

Buffy found herself very grateful that Giles had never tried to bog her down with any of it in the first years of her Slayerhood. It's hard to be starry-eyed about having a life outside of being Chosen when the blood-sucky and rending-of-limbs results of that calling are constantly barraged in one's face. The girls on the couch before her would never have a life to speak of if they continued down the path that had been picked for them. Buffy tried to remember what it was like before she became a Slayer, those carefree days when her thoughts were filled with frilly dresses and homecomings and boys. Maybe the last one never left her thoughts, but there was a cloud over her memories. Things hadn't been perfect in her life back then. She was deliberately vapid, shoplifted for fun, boys she dated tried to pressure her into going farther than she wanted to, and her parents were constantly fighting. Whether she wanted to admit it or not, becoming a Slayer had probably been the best thing that ever happened to her, which was a sick, twisted idea to comprehend. Having a calling distracted her from the whole world even when it came crashing down around her in a giant fireball (quite literally in the case of the Hemery gym). When real life became too hectic, she could focus all of her attention on slaying. When slaying became too intrusive, she could blame that on the Universe choosing her against her will. Maybe those were the reasons why Buffy found herself unable to connect with the other Slayers. They had potential to do others things in life when all Buffy ever felt good at was slaying, which made her possessive and crowded by the new "recruits."

"I think I forgot what it was like," Buffy said quietly, "No training, no parental supervision to speak of, no idea what was going on... Okay, I still feel like that."

The girls slowly drew their gaze back to Buffy, intently listening.

"We've gone about this the wrong way... Recruiting with little living space, no funds, Andrew..." Buffy put her hand over her stomach. "Maybe some people really aren't meant to be Slayers."

Reglisse, Pistache, and Daisy broke into simultaneous tears, pleading that they would try harder and train more.

Buffy stammered, "Wait, I didn't mean-"

Spike shook his head as he came to sit next to her on the coffee table, "Remind me not to let you have your own daytime talk show."

Searching for the right words, Buffy attempted to explain, giving Spike an imploring glance, "I meant that there might be something else that they're supposed to do with their powers. Something that they want to do other than... you know, fighting..."

Daisy roughly wiped her face on her sleeve, angrily, "It's all a big joke. Getting chosen and then to still be terrible at everything! What's the point of being "special" if you're apparently the worst at it?"

"Don't say that. Being a Slayer-" Buffy stopped suddenly.

Where were her speeches? She could say that being a Slayer was the greatest thing ever, the biggest accomplishment a gal could have, or that it was just a big sorority sleepover with pillow fights and crossbows, like the Girl Scouts but with weaponry over merit badges. Buffy had rationalized her lies before, that certain things were what the new Slayers needed to hear, but not anymore.

"Being a Slayer really sucks."

The truth of it lingered in the air, and Buffy reeled off a laundry list of frustrations and hurts that had accumulated over the years, ranging from the mildly irritating to the devastating, the personal to the broad. She spoke of the distrust she had to feel towards those around her as they constantly were kidnapped or led to some disaster, the hopelessness, the burdens, the loss, the anger, and the unwanted sense of superiority. When she was finished, Buffy felt as though a weight had been lifted from her shoulders. It was so freeing to be honest with her fellow Slayers. She idly wondered if what she was feeling was the "connection," but that thought was dashed as the uncomfortable silence returned.

Florence raised her head up from her corner of the sofa, her big green eyes focused on Buffy for a moment and then Spike. Her quiet, emotionless facade fell away in an instant, and she threw herself at him as her face crumpled into a teary mess. Her thin arms wrapped around the vampire once more as she sobbed her heart out.

"All right," Spike's voice was barely above a whisper, placing his hand gently on her head, "Do you want to call your mum and da'?"

The eleven year old nodded, sniffling pitifully, taking in large gulps of air to calm down. The vampire half-carried her to the kitchen to get a sip of water before she placed her call home.

While the teenagers shut themselves off in their makeshift bedroom, Buffy remained in the living room, feeling a little like crying herself. It would have been easily given her precariously hormonal state, but she stared at the now empty couch, wondering if she had done the right thing.

*****
After a short time, she wasn't sure how long exactly, Buffy found herself sitting in the floor outside of Angel and Spike's apartment. Spike exited the apartment sometime later and sat down against the wall opposite her.

"I really messed that up," Buffy placed her fingertips against her temples as though trying to will away the migraine that was brewing.

Spike couldn't help but grin, "Nah, you were honest with them. It's better for them to be treated like grown-ups and hear the ugly truth about the family business than to be placated with fairy stories."

"How's Florence?" she asked, letting her head lean back against the wall.

"She's a tough kid. That call to her parents seems to have calmed her down enough to get some shut-eye at least," Spike leaned forward a little, "Just between you and me, I'm starting to get the impression that the girls think we're running the summer camp from hell."

Buffy mused, "Vamp Camp."

"Bunkhouse of Blood."

"Slayer Sleepaway."

"I think that might have been an actual slasher flick," Spike replied.

Buffy nodded, "Or an R. L. Stine book."

"I'm sorry," Spike said after a pause. "What I said earlier, before the alley, was really... uncalled for. I didn't mean it-"

"Yes, you did."

"Yeah, but I didn't mean to sound like a right git about it."

Buffy managed a smile, "Apology appreciated."

Angel and Connor walked down the narrow corridor, looking a bit worse-for-wear from the case they had been working.

Angel beleagueredly asked the pair, "Do I want to know?"

"The question you should be asking," Spike quipped with a raise of an eyebrow, "is whether or not you want to go in there."

Groaning, the brunette vampire settled down in the floor in-between the blondes, "Wake me when they're gone."

To be continued...