A couple of weeks later…

Joan answered the knock on their front door with a wide, friendly smile. A tall, dark-haired woman in a Texas Gas Service uniform smiled back at her.

“Hi there. We have a report of a gas leak in the area and we need to check all the homes on this street…” the woman began, stepping forward as if to enter the house.

Joan, however, didn’t move or open the door wider to allow the woman entry. Instead, she turned her head this way and that, sniffing the air for a few moments. Finally, she turned back to the bewildered woman, her bright smile returning.

“Thank you for your concern and dedication to preserving lives, but there is no gas leak within this dwelling,” Joan informed her merrily before swinging the door closed firmly in her face.

After a stunned moment, the knocking began again. Joan turned back around from where she’d begun to walk away and, with the same bright smile, opened the door again. Now there were two people in gas company uniforms on the porch, a tall, sandy-haired man had joined the woman.

Joan tilted her head, waiting for one of them to speak as if she hadn’t just slammed the door in the woman’s face a moment before.

“Buffy!” the man blurted out after a moment of stunned silence.

“No. My name is Joan,” the Bot informed him, focusing on his face and running it through her facial recognition program. “Captain Cardboard,” she announced after a short search. “You work for the wankers at the Initiative, were unable to keep the Slayer satisfied with your inadequate penis, and you are known to frequent vampire whorehouses. The best thing you ever did was leave Sunnydale. We had hoped you’d died a horrible and fitting death.”

Riley’s mouth fell open. The woman, Sam, turned back to look at him over her shoulder, a questioning look on her face.

“She seems to know you, Finn,” Sam observed matter-of-factly.

“It … It’s Buffy,” he replied, utterly taken aback.

“Is your audible range as defective as your penis? I am Joan,” the android repeated. “Buffy is in the kitchen. Are you looking for Buffy?”

“Errr … yes?” Riley replied, confused, trying to look past the blonde and into the house.

“Please wait here,” Joan requested and flung the door closed in their faces again.

In the kitchen, Buffy was cleaning up the mess the babies had made during dinner, wiping down the counters, table, floor … ceiling.

“Captain Cardboard now works for the gas company and he, along with an unidentified female, is standing on our front porch. He would like to see you,” Joan informed Buffy as she came in to the kitchen.

Buffy furrowed her brow, looking up from her work. “Captain …? Riley? Is here? How …?”

Joan tilted her head, considering. “I do not have enough information to answer your inquiry. Would you like me to gather more data?”

“No.” Buffy sighed and tossed the washrag into the sink as she processed this. How did Riley find her? What did he want? She quickly decided whatever it was, it couldn’t be of the good.  “Ummm … why don’t you take the babies upstairs and get Spike up. Tell him who’s here and ask him to come down. You stay upstairs with the babies until I find out what’s going on, okay?”

“The woman wanted to come into the house to check for a gas leak, but I am 100% positive there is no gas leak within our residence, so I did not allow her entry,” Joan offered, picking up first Jade and then Will and settling one toddler on each hip. “That is per the standing directive to not invite strangers in who are not expected and do not have legitimate business in our residence.”

“Good. That’s good,” Buffy replied, giving her a reassuring smile. “I’ll take care of it. You just send Spike down and then stay upstairs with the babies,” she continued, walking out of the kitchen with the Bot.

Joan nodded firmly and headed for the stairs while Buffy went to the front door. She pressed her ear against it and could hear two people talking in hushed whispers, but couldn’t make out what they were saying. She took a deep breath and pulled the door open quickly.

The man and woman on her front porch both stopped talking abruptly and looked up. Joan was right, it was Captain … errr … Riley.

“Riley. Wow. Long time,” Buffy offered tentatively, unsure of what to say to him.

“Buffy! Wow – no kidding! This is quite a … surprise,” Riley replied, still looking a bit shell-shocked.

Buffy’s brows went up. A surprise? He didn’t expect her to be here? “What are you doing here?” she asked, still standing firmly in the doorway, blocking it.

“Well, errr, that is…” Riley stammered.

“You’re not with the gas company,” Buffy noted, folding her arms over her chest.

“I told you this wouldn’t work, soldier,” the tall, dark-haired woman said to Riley.

Riley frowned. “How can you tell we’re not with the gas company?” he asked Buffy.

“They have little laminated name tags hanging around their necks,” Buffy informed him, still standing firmly in the doorway. “You didn’t answer my question.”

“Right,” Finn replied, giving her that country-boy smile. The effect was slightly tarnished by the scar that ran from above his right eye to his cheekbone. The memory of him in the vamp whorehouse also tempered the ‘boy next door’ affability he tried to project.

“Well, well, well, if it ain’t White Bread,” Spike’s voice carried past Buffy as he sauntered down the stairs in just his jeans, still buckling his belt as he walked. “I don't usually use the word ‘delicious’...but I've gotta wager this little tableau must sting a bit, eh? Me and your former? Must kill. What can I say? Girl just needs a little monster in her man.”

Shock, and then hatred flashed across Riley’s face before it fell into a mask of simple displeasure. “Spike,” he spat, as if just the name on his lips was poison.

Spike gave him his best smirky-smile, stopping just behind and to the side of Buffy. He draped one arm over her shoulders and leaned into her with the grace of a long repeated habit.

“Last time I saw you, if memory serves, you were getting the juice sucked out of you by some undead ladies of very questionable reputation,” Spike snarked.

Riley stiffened and stood up to his full height. “That’s really not relevant, Doctor.”

 “Ok, let’s all just tone down the testosterone a minute,” Buffy interjected, holding her hands up in a placating gesture. “Why are you here and what are you talking about? Doctor what?” she asked, looking at Riley.

The woman with Riley answered. “We’ve been tracking a pair of Suvolte demons up from Central America. Their eggs and offspring are very valuable to the right people, and extremely dangerous in the wrong hands. Someone calling himself ‘The Doctor’ has the eggs up for sale on the black market,” she explained.

“We have reliable information that says the Doctor is here,” Riley filled in coldly, his eyes boring into the blond vamp. “And the last piece of the puzzle just fell into place, Spike.”

“What?” Buffy interjected incredulously. “You think we’re selling … demon eggs?”

“Not you, him,” Riley corrected, still glaring at Spike.

“The information was very reliable … and specific,” the woman offered.

“I’m sorry, who are you?” Buffy asked, glowering at the brunette.

“Oh, sorry. Where are my manners?” The brunette ducked her head and smiled, then stuck out her right hand. “Sam … Sam Finn. Riley’s wife … and superior officer. It’s really an honor to meet you. Riley’s told me so much about the Slayer, but I never thought I’d actually…”

Spike snorted. “Look, crew cut, this is all very entertaining, but you’re off your nut. It must be those drugs they were keeping you on. I did warn you. Now, be a good tin soldier and, uh... run along,” he rejoined, waving his free hand as if to sweep Mr. and Mrs. Finn off the porch.

Riley ignored Spike and turned his eyes back to Buffy. “There’re here, Buffy. And they’re dangerous,” he asserted.

“And I’m telling you they’re not,” Buffy insisted. “No one here would have anything to do with something like that.”

Riley scoffed, his eyes darting to Spike, then back to Buffy, the implication clear.

“Riley, it’s Spike – we’re married now! He wouldn’t!” she defended the unspoken accusation.

“Right. Spike: Deadly ... amoral ... opportunistic … devious … unscrupulous,” Riley reminded her, ticking off the points on his fingers.

“Don’t forget good-looking and athletic,” Spike interjected sarcastically.

“He’s not like that anymore,” Buffy persisted, ignoring Spike and focusing on Riley. “He’s changed.”

“Sorry, Buffy, but I can’t just take your word for it. Not with the information we have…” Riley offered as he began to step across the threshold and press past the two blondes.

Before he even crossed the invisible barrier that separated inside from outside, Spike had released his hold on Buffy, pivoted to turn his body to the side, and hit Riley in the gut with a straight-leg kick, sending the taller man tumbling backwards. The soldier landed in a heap on the front porch six feet away, back near the steps leading down to the front walk.

In the next instant, Sam began to draw a sidearm from its holster at her hip that had been hidden under her jacket. Buffy grabbed the soldier’s wrist before the gun cleared the black nylon, and twisted, sending the brunette spinning and falling down to her knees.

Spike stalked out of the house toward Riley as the soldier rose back to his feet, a stake suddenly appearing in his hand.

“Not quite as helpless as the last time you staked me, you wanker,” Spike growled, kicking the stake out of the man’s hand and sending it skittering across the decking of the porch.

When Riley reached for something else at his belt, Spike’s hand flashed out and closed around the larger man’s throat in a vise-like grip. The vamp lifted Riley straight up by the neck with nothing but raw, furious power as the big man thrashed and pulled at Spike’s fingers in an attempt to breathe.

Spike grinned like a mad-man, his demon surfacing to join the fun, as he held Riley up at arm’s length. Even with his superior height, the soldier’s feet were not touching the ground. When Riley began to turn purple, a haunting, rumbling laugh began to roll from Spike’s throat.

“Spike!” Buffy’s panicked voice cut through Spike’s euphoria of bettering the git who had tortured him for so bloody long. He blinked and looked at her. She looked worried and more than a little pissed. How long had she been yelling his name?  He turned his focus back on Riley a moment and realized the man’s heart was laboring dangerously as it tried to provide oxygen to this body.

“Bloody hell,” Spike growled, dropping Riley and shaking off his demon. The soldier collapsed into a choking, gasping heap on the floor.

Buffy was still holding Sam’s arm, twisted up behind the woman’s back, but her full attention was on Spike.

He sighed and rolled his eyes, stepping away from Riley. “Wasn’t gonna kill the berk,” Spike assured her sheepishly. “Just havin’ a bit o’ fun.”

Buffy gave him a hard look.

“Not like he hasn’t done the same t’ me! And worse!” Spike defended angrily. “He bloody staked me ‘fore he scampered off!”

“And yet you look remarkably undusty,” Buffy pointed out.

“Was a plastic stake. Thought it was real, though, didn’ I? Coulda had a heart attack just from the shock of it,” Spike continued.

Buffy snorted and rolled her eyes, her temper fading. Actually, if Spike could stop from killing Riley, she was pretty sure he could stop himself from killing anyone.

Buffy let some of the pressure off Sam’s arm. “Look, I’m telling you, there are no eggs here. There is no Doctor here,” she began.

“Oh, hey guys. What’s going on?” Andrew asked blithely, walking into the foyer behind them. He had a Coke in one hand and a big bowl of popcorn in the other. “I was just gonna watch ‘Doctor Who’ down here, ‘cos the TV in my room is so small I can barely see the TARDIS or the Doctor…”

Four sets of wide eyes turned to him.

Andrew froze, his eyes darting between all the people near or just outside the front door who were staring at him in shocked silence. “What?”

“You little ponce,” Spike growled, striding forward and grabbing Andrew by the throat as he’d done Riley. It took considerably less effort to lift the little twerp up off the floor, sending Coke and popcorn flying in all directions. “Where are they? What the bloody hell ‘ave you brought into my soddin’ house?”

“Spike,” Buffy reacted immediately, releasing the hold she’d had on Sam. The Slayer grabbed Spike’s arm and yanked down on it so Andrew’s feet were back on the ground. “He can’t talk if his windpipe is crushed or his neck is broken,” she pointed out.

Spike muttered several colorful oaths under his breath as he loosened his grip on Andrew’s throat. Just like Riley, the geek began coughing and gasping for air, and rubbing his throat.

“Answer the question, Andrew,” Buffy demanded.

“I’m sorry, what was the question?” he squeaked out, bent over at the waist, still rubbing his throat.

“Demon eggs. Where are they?” Buffy reminded him angrily.

“What? I … don’t know … what you’re… ummm …” Andrew stammered then stopped talking as he looked from one to the other of the blondes standing over him. Riley and Sam had come into the house behind Buffy and Spike and were also frowning down at Andrew.

Andrew took a breath. “They’re not mine! I was just holding them for a friend and …”

“Anndreww,” Buffy snarled his name, elongating it menacingly.

It was all Spike could do to keep from ripping the little bugger’s head off right there. The livid vamp stood stock-still. His eyes alternated between fiery, blue discs and glowing amber, imprisoning Andrew like a bug on a pin with nothing more than his furious glare. Spike kept his hands clenched into tight fists at his sides, afraid that, if he moved at all, he wouldn’t be able to stop. Spike’s hands began to tremble with rage and the effort it was taking him to stand still. The little ponce brought dangerous demon eggs into his house?! Near his family?

“Ok! Ok!” Andrew whined, holding up his hands in surrender. “Geez! They aren’t in the house. They’re in the garage … in the old pump room. Seriously! I’m not an idiot. In fact, my mom had me tested and my IQ is–”

“Are they frozen?” Riley asked, interrupting Andrew, as he began moving back out the front door with Sam on his heels.

Andrew tsked his tongue and rolled his eyes. “Duh! I have them on dry-ice. If you’d let me finish! My IQ is in the top...”

Buffy grabbed Spike’s arm and forcibly pulled him away from Andrew toward the back door. For a moment she thought Spike wasn’t going to move. His feet seemed cemented to the floor, but at the last moment he took a step to keep from toppling over.

They arrived at the garage’s side door at almost the same time Sam and Riley did.

“Let us handle this, Buffy,” Finn barked at her, reaching for the door.

“Oi! She ain’t your bint anymore, White Bread! Don’t be talkin’ to my wife like one a’ your lackeys,” Spike objected, shouldering hard Riley to the side to give Buffy free access to the door.

“Jesus, Spike! Has all that bleach finally rotted what was left of your pea-brain? Do you really want her to go in there unarmed and possibly get attacked by newly hatched, ravenous Suvolte demons? Or would you rather we go in first?” Riley shot back as he recovered his balance.

Spike blinked at him a moment, then grabbed Buffy and pulled her back from the door. “Credit when it’s due. Soldier-boy has a valid point, luv.”

“Spike!” Buffy protested as she watched the other couple go through the door and disappear into the dark of the building. “It’s our house … or garage! It’s up to us to protect it.”

“Yeah, well, nothing says we can’t … hire an exterminator, is there?” Spike replied rationally.

Buffy scowled at him and pulled her arm from his grasp. “I want to see just what Andrew’s done,” she informed him, stepping through the door.

Spike sighed and rolled his eyes a moment before following her.

When Spike and Buffy got inside, Sam and Riley had opened the door to a four-foot by eight-foot room at the back of the garage that used to house the old well and pump. There normally was little in there, some remnants of the old water system, a rusted tank and some capped pipes, but now the entire floor was covered in large, oval shaped … eggs. Cold air poured out of the door, apparently created by the dry-ice that Andrew was using to keep them frozen.

“The target has been located and secured. LZ is cold, no unfriendlies,” Riley was saying into a radio as Sam guarded the door, an assault rifle trained on the frozen eggs. “Send the reefer to our location for immediate extraction.”

The voice on the other end said something back that Buffy couldn’t quite understand, then Riley replied with, “Copy that. Out.”

“What does all that mean?” Buffy asked him, her brows furrowed.

“Our team will be here in a few minutes with a reefer truck. We’ll get these out of your hair,” Riley replied.

Buffy’s brows went up. “You’re taking them away? Not … killing them? Where are you taking them?”

“That’s classified,” Riley replied in his soldier-voice.

Buffy rolled her eyes. “You said these were dangerous in the wrong hands,” she reminded him. “Just who’s hands are they gonna be in?”

“That’s …”

“Classified,” Buffy finished for him, folding her arms over her chest angrily.

“And who decides who’s hands are ‘wrong’?” she wondered.

“That’s…”

“Classified,” Buffy finished again. She glared at him for several long moments, then said matter-of-factly, “I’m not gonna be able to let you take them.”

“It’s really not your call, Buffy,” Riley countered stanchly.

Buffy gave him an icy smile. “Actually, it is. I’m the Slayer.”

“It’s not that simple,” Riley continued resolutely.

“Seems simple to me.  Slayer slays demons. These are demons. Even I can do that math,” Buffy retorted.

“Oh, that’s rich, coming from Mrs. William the Bloody! Have you forgotten what he’s done … what he is?”  Riley shot back, suddenly losing his cool, detached soldier-demeanor. “God, Buffy – what happened to you?”

Buffy kept her voice calm, conversational, as she answered. “You wouldn’t be able to handle even hearing about what’s happened to me, Riley. It would melt your brain.”

Out of the corner of her eye, Buffy saw Sam begin to turn her weapon away from the eggs and toward her. In the next instant Spike’s hand flashed out and violently snatched the gun from the woman’s hand.  In the next moment the barrel of the gun had been bent into a ‘C’, rendering it useless.

Riley’s eyes shifted between Spike and Buffy, then he exchanged a meaningful glance with Sam.

“Wouldn’t if I were you, mate,” Spike warned. “Just need a tiny bit of an excuse t’ rip your bloody head off.”

Buffy never moved or changed her expression, keeping Riley pinned with a hard glare. “Get out before I help Spike kill you.”

“I can’t leave the eggs,” Riley told her, looking past Sam to the room full of pods.

“That’s not a problem,” Buffy assured him. She stepped past him to the yard tools that hung on the wall behind him and picked up a machete. “Excuse me,” she said to Sam genially as she pressed past her into the small, cold room.

With Sam and Riley watching her, and Spike watching them, Buffy chopped all the frozen demon eggs into little bits, leaving a giant, slushy, oozing, slightly frozen omelet on the floor of the small room.

“There. Problem solved,” Buffy announced, exiting the room, her machete covered in un-hatched demon gore. She frowned at it, and then quickly swiped both flat sides of the blade across Riley’s clean pants leg, wiping the goo off.

Pleased with her solution to the goo problem, Buffy hung the tool/weapon back in its place on the wall.

"Show’s over,” Spike announced. “Get the fuck off my property.”

“The Doctor’s coming with us,” Riley asserted as he and Sam began walking toward the side door of the garage.

“No, I don’t think so,” Buffy countered.

“You can’t stop us from taking him into custody,” Riley continued angrily. “He may have information about–”

“I don’t care. He’s my little pet geek and I’ll deal with him,” Buffy countered.

“You really can’t stop us,” Riley repeated. “We have our orders. He had the eggs…”

“What eggs?” Buffy shot back, raising her brows innocently.

Riley sighed heavily. “Buffy,” he ground out through clenched teeth.

“No eggs. No suspect. No Doctor … no probable cause …” Buffy smiled at him sweetly.

“Best t’ not argue with ‘er, mate. She’s been watching ‘Law & Order’. Knows ‘er rights, she does, and all them manky tricks you power-hungry cop-types use,” Spike advised.

“We’re not cops, we’re soldiers!” Riley countered.

“With no evidence of anything,” Buffy reminded him. “Just go, Riley. Andrew doesn’t know anything worth knowing. Believe me, I rode all the way from California with him – there’s nothing up there but geek-o-matic facts about the Death Star and Jedis … and hobbits or bobbins or something.”

“He got the eggs somewhere,” Sam interjected. “If he could just give us his supplier…”

Buffy rolled her eyes as she began heading back to the house, Sam and Riley on her heels, Spike bringing up the rear where he could keep an eye on them. “Fine, but don’t be surprised if his supplier is named Frodo or … Darth Vader,” Buffy warned the pair.

**~**

“The little ponce scampered,” Spike announced a few minutes later when he came back downstairs after looking for Andrew. “Even took his little toys with ‘im.”

“Damn it,” Riley growled as the refrigerated truck pulled up in front of the house.

“Can’t you track him?” Sam wondered, looking at Spike.

Spike sniffed the air, turning his head this way and that for a moment, then shrugged. “Stench o’ soldier boy’s too strong – drowns everythin’ else out.”

Riley heaved a frustrated sigh. “C’mon, Sam, we’ll do a sweep. If he’s on foot, we might find him on our own.”

Sam turned back to Buffy. “It really was an honor to meet you. Sorry it had to be under such … tense circumstances,” she offered, extending her hand again.

“You were gonna shoot me!” Buffy exclaimed, ignoring Sam’s proffered hand.

“Oh, well … that was just business; doesn’t mean I don’t hold you in the highest esteem and respect your position.”

Buffy snorted. “I find that less of a comfort than you probably meant it to be.”

Sam shrugged and turned to follow Riley into the night.

Buffy flung the door closed at their backs. “Well, that was a good time. We should have them over more often,” she quipped.

Spike smirked at her. “Proud o’ you, luv,” he told her, moving up to stand in front of her. “Held your ground, you did. Didn’t cave … didn’t…” His voice trailed off as he raised a hand and gently brushed his fingertips over her cheek.

“Didn’t believe for a minute that you’d bring demon eggs into our house, no matter how much they were worth?” Buffy finished his thought.

Spike tilted his head slightly in acknowledgement, his blue eyes fixed on hers.

“I’ve seen you change, Spike. Riley didn’t. You can’t blame him for suspecting you – he doesn’t know you anymore. I do.”

“He never knew me, pet,” Spike asserted, his voice low.

Buffy sighed. “Yeah, there was a lot of that going around. He didn’t know me either … and I guess I didn’t know him.

“Is Andrew really gone?” she wondered, quirking a suspicious brow at him.

Spike nodded. “Yeah, really is. Could probably track ‘im, but … what’s the use? All I’d want t’ do is rip his daft head off and shove it up his arse.

“Probably not the example you wanted me t’ set for the bits.”

Buffy smiled and leaned into him, wrapping her arms around his neck. She pursed her lips as if in thought a moment. “Yeah, you’re probably right. Ripping off of heads and shoving up asses is probably not high on Dr. Spock’s ‘best activities for parents’ list.

“I’m proud of you, too, Mr. Pratt,” Buffy revealed, dropping a swift kiss on the end of his nose.

“Are ya, now? And why would that be?”

“You didn’t kill Riley. Even I wanted to kill Riley,” she divulged, smiling.

Spike wagged his brows at her. “What do I get as a reward for my stellar, gentlemanly behavior?”

Buffy smiled at him brazenly. “What do you want?”

**~**