Spike doesn't say a word: he just grins right back at Beth.

He guesses he's lucky, because Millie and Wade were so keyed up from their birthday party yesterday that they didn't have a lot of energy to spare tonight.

Or else he's just really, really boring.

Or a hell of a lot better watching kids than he knew.

But he's an opportunist and he's been told time and again he's a selfish bastard and so, selfishly, he acknowledges to himself that no matter how well this went he's not a kid person: he'd rather just be with Beth.

And not with anybody else: he thinks of the hot tub on Venus and their shower here, and the lake outside, and the way she feels when it's just the two of them and he can hold her. Not the way he's holding Millie, not the way she's holding Wade. Time and place for everything. But yeah, he likes being alone with her the best.

He's never been that sociable. Yeah, he can talk to anyone about anything any time, but really, he just wants to be left alone.

With Beth.

He looks over at Wade, sleeping so soundly, and then back at Millie, sleeping so soundly, and then over at Beth, who's watching the kid in her arms. And wonders if he can risk moving for a cigarette now without waking up Millie, and he bets he can.

He's good at sleight of hand.

And so he does, and he taps out two and offers one to Beth and then, carefully, lights his own and slides the lighter across the table for her.

When he speaks, finally, his own voice is low and quiet. "Didn't even have to sing to them. That's a damn good thing."

Love you, Beth.