Chapter 9
There was a decidedly ominous feeling in the air that soured the next couple of days. Buffy's nerves were strung tighter than ever and the added mix of her volatile pregnancy hormones were cause for one very miserable slayer. Spike escaped gratefully at dusk each night, eager for a spot of violence to calm his own anxieties.
Four days after he had placed the call to Angel, Spike returned home to find Buffy engrossed in a child birthing book; her pose relaxed as she sat on the overstuffed couch with her feet propped up on the coffee table. When he heard her muttering under her breath, he smiled and settled in to eavesdrop.
He watched as one hand idly rubbed tender circles on the large expanse of abdomen she’d just exposed. Her face suddenly scrunched up in disgust, and he realized she wasn't talking to herself, but to the baby.
"Ew! It says here that there is normally between 2.1 to 5.9 cups of amniotic fluid for a full-term baby," she commented, her hand ceasing its motion as Buffy looked down at her belly sternly. "But since you're spawn of Spike, you'll probably double that, won't you? Just to increase the major ick factor for me." Buffy felt the kick that answered. "Yeah, that's what I thought." Her hand began the soothing motion again as she buried her nose back in her book.
"Talking to yourself, eh, pet?"
Buffy jumped at the sound of Spike's voice. "You jerk! You totally scared the crap out of me! Don't you know you're not supposed to go around scaring pregnant women?"
"Sorry," he remarked, although his smirk told Buffy that he was anything but as he joined her on the couch. "What are you doing?"
"I was having a conversation with your spawn. What does it look like I'm doing?" she teased, her head lolling over to rest against his welcoming shoulder.
Spike's larger, cooler hand covered hers, and together they watched as her abdomen rolled and shifted by unseen feet and limbs.
"Spike, I'm scared." Buffy quietly admitted
Spike sighed heavily. "Yeah, I know, pet."
"I know I didn't say it before, but thank you for making that appointment for me. I'm just... gah! I'll just be so happy when this baby is born, you know?" Buffy posed, not expecting a reply. "There are just too many unknown variables right now, and that just gives me the wiggins. I don't LIKE unknown variables."
Buffy struggled to her feet and began to pace in an ungainly waddle. "I mean, I've got the whole birth thing to get through, and we are so totally not even prepared for that. Then there is the whole 'is it good or is it evil' theme going on..."
Spike got to his feet and blocked her path, his arms going around her to draw her close. "Hey, evil here, and you're not that bad off."
Buffy nestled the side of her face against Spike's chest, inhaling the utter maleness of him. "And that is what I'm counting on."
Spike pressed a kiss to the top of her head, relieved to hear her talking about the baby as if it was a reality that would be impacting their day to day life, knowing that she had finally come to terms with the forced pregnancy. She was accepting them both and that was more than he had ever expected.
Her prenatal appointment was the next day and Spike was eager to see how Buffy fared through it. One thing he knew; he would be right there by her side for the entire thing.
*****
Seated across from Quentin Travers, the head of Watcher's Council, Giles found himself experiencing a profound sense of relief in addition to his ever-present trepidation. While he’d made his travel plans to return to London, the continued threat of inadvertently alerting whoever it was that had them under surveillance that his slayer had made some type of contact, and that he – as well as a few others - were aware of what had been done to her. Fear of being found out, and thus subjected to capture themselves, had stretched taut their already frazzled nerves. Now, a continent away, Giles could only hope that the others were still managing to hold up under the strain.
After learning from Spike what had been done to the slayer and the vampire, and the lengths the military would no doubt go to secure their recapture, the three decided that to share any news with Xander and Willow would be inviting sure disaster. And while Giles felt a small measure of guilt in that regard, he would do whatever was necessary to make sure Buffy's fragile hold on anonymity was not compromised.
Due to the excellent security at the Council headquarters, Giles felt fairly comfortable disclosing the information he had flown halfway across the world to impart.
While he and Travers had not seen eye-to-eye on quite a few things regarding the current - albeit missing - slayer, Giles prayed he was not making a grievous error by taking the matter to the Council. However, the watcher felt he had no other option. Something had to be done and the Council had the means to accomplish it.
As expected, Travers did not take the news well.
"So, you are telling me that some secret branch of the US military had the very nerve to abduct our slayer?" Travers summed up, his flaring nostrils the only indication of his rising fury.
Giles nodded carefully. "It would appear so."
"And you believe this to be true?" Travers questioned, to which Giles did not hesitate to nod his head. "Yet, by your own admittance, the source of this information is highly suspect. If I recall correctly, one of the demons involved was even implicated in Miss. Summers disappearance."
Again, Giles nodded. "I realize that. However, from what we witnessed firsthand of William the Bloody, he is rash and compulsive. Even the numerous volumes that refer to him all depict a vampire who is not known for his patience. Waiting almost ten months to contact us does not fall under that category of reckless and impulsive. No, I am inclined to believe it is the truth... until we are presented with facts that state otherwise."
Travers nodded thoughtfully. "And Angelus?"
"You know he was cursed with a soul. He has... feelings for Miss Summers, and I simply cannot see him orchestrating something of this nature. He has proven himself an ally, aiding us while we have been without a slayer these past months. The Hellmouth would be quite overrun if we’d not had his assistance."
Travers' face gave nothing away. The reports he had received matched this information, but Mr. Giles did not need to know that. "So you trust that this an accurate account?"
Giles nodded. "As sure as I can be, yes."
Finally, there was a break in the composed British mask, and Travers' eyes darkened with anger. "This will simply not be tolerated. I will not have my Slayer line compromised by the United States government , of all people." It was said with a sneer, and Giles knew it was time to drop the other shoe.
"There is more."
Travers placed the phone he'd just lifted in his hand back down in the cradle, and gave him a pointed look. "Well?"
This was the tricky part. "Before I continue any further, I must insist that no harm come to any of the parties involved until we know exactly what we are dealing with here."
It was on the tip of Travers' tongue to argue that fact when he realized that there was more to Rupert Giles than meet the eye. A sliver of apprehension passed through him at the cold and savage look on his employee's face; a look that promised a slow and painful demise if crossed and Travers found himself reluctantly agreeing to Giles' demand.
Giles nodded, wishing he could keep this part to himself, but instinctively knowing that the Council would be hard-pressed to eradicate the threat without this information. Taking a deep breath, he announced, "Apparently, Buffy was used as part of a breeding program, and the military found a measure of success in their, er... breeding attempt."
That caught Travers attention, his eyes widening as the implication hit him. "Ms. Summers is with child?"
Giles nodded.
"Am I correct in assuming that this is the true reason as to why you are here?" Travers questioned.
The watcher didn't bother trying to deny it. "It is. Her mother wants her home. The Hellmouth needs the slayer. That is just not possible with the threat of recapture following her. Spike informed Angel that, for now, they were someplace safe, and that he was taking care of her."
"Spike?"
Giles smiled as he realized he'd saved the best news for last. "Yes, Spike. A.K.A William the Bloody. The self-professed slayer of slayers. Apparently, he was the one used to father the child."
"Good lord..."
It gave Giles a small sliver of reassurance to see anger and outrage on the face of the Council head, rather than the calculated cunning he'd expected, upon receiving the news that the slayer was pregnant with the child of a vampire.
Travers appeared thoughtful, then picked the phone up once more. "I have some phone calls to make. We shall reconvene in oh... let's say, an hour's time, shall we?"
"Very well." Giles stood up and turned towards the door, before turning back to regard his employer. "Oh, and Travers?"
An eyebrow was lifted in silent acknowledgement.
A sinister smile transformed Giles' face. "Believe me when I tell you that you don't want to double-cross me." With that parting comment, the watcher left Travers alone to make his phone calls.
++++
Giles returned to his superior's office at the appointed time, and could tell immediately by the grim set of the other man's face that there was news to be shared.
"We have confirmed your report," Travers began without preamble. "Our contracted team in California found the presence of multiple high tech surveillance units at your flat, your place of employ, and the home of Joyce Summers..., as well as various other locations. In light of this, I have authorized our teams of investigators to drop all projects and focus on locating this secret laboratory. Once we have an exact location, we will begin our own counter-surveillance."
"And Buffy?" Giles couldn't help but ask, a confrontational tone creeping into his voice.
Travers' eyes gave nothing away. "Once this military operation has been pinpointed, we will focus our efforts on her whereabouts. Beyond that, I am not prepared to share any more with you at this time."
"And the child?" he asked dangerously.
"Mr. Giles, you have to realize that I cannot give you my word when I do not know what, exactly, it is we are dealing with here. I assume you are not in possession of all the fact either. What I can tell you is that my priority includes getting our slayer back home... and in one piece. Anything beyond that, well... I just don't have an answer for you."
Giles nodded, not hearing what he would have liked to, but appreciating the frankness. "Very well. You will keep me informed?"
"Of course."
tbc..
Chapter 10
It took a lot to unnerve a century old master vampire, yet Buffy had managed to do just that. Her continued silence since leaving the clinic had managed to set his fangs on edge. Yet, her persistent dazed affect was familiar - because it mirrored his own.
It wasn't until he had unlocked their front door and disabled the sophisticated security system, allowing them to finally enter that Spike found he could not hold back a moment longer. Keepin' his mouth shut wasn't somethin' he was known for, after all.
"Aren't ya goin' to say somethin', pet?"
Buffy slowly brought her eyes up to meet the midnight blue that seemed to burn brightly with a gripping intensity, and she couldn't help the small shiver that rolled along her spine. Those beautiful blue eyes managed to shatter the self-absorbed world she had retreated to since leaving the clinic. Her slow, leisurely smile teased the vampire as much as her silence and he suddenly realized she was glowing.
"We're having a little girl, Spike." Her soft voice was a sharp contradiction to the radiant smile she was gifting him with.
Spike smiled broadly in response, and Buffy was once more struck by the sheer beauty of the man. This demon. With sudden clarity, it dawned on her that she wouldn't have wanted another man - and Spike was truly that - to have fathered this child she carried.
Not even Angel.
It was liberating.
And more than that... it was theirs. Their daughter.
"You gave me a little girl, Spike."
Feeling rather chuffed himself, Spike didn't dare mention that it was technically the military that had done the deed, knowing that without whatever drugs that had been pumped into his undead corpse, there would be no way he could have ever been capable of this little miracle. It was also the first time he was able to think of what had been done to them without experiencing a burst of homicidal rage.
Like a young child, Buffy began bouncing on the balls of her feet with newfound energy, giddily holding up the ultrasound picture that immortalized their baby. "See?"
He grinned indulgently, glancing down at the black and white photos that showed their baby and not some abstract picture of an alien life form. "I see that, pet. Was there for the whole bloody thing, remember?"
Her face settled into a mock pout. "Party pooper." She turned to make her way towards the kitchen. "Do we have any of that yummy chocolate cake left?"
Spike caught up to her in two strides, his fingers closing around her upper arm gently to still her forward progress. "I'll get it. You go set yourself down nice and comfy, yeah?"
Flashing him a grateful smile, she leaned up and pressed a quick kiss to his lips. "Thank you," she murmured against his mouth before heading for her favorite spot in the living room.
Spike could feel the sweet burn of her lips against his as he made his way into the kitchen, a sappy grin on his face. After their new intimacy the night before, Spike had been nervous about Buffy's reaction to the next level their relationship had reached. To his surprise, however, she displayed no awkwardness or regret. In fact, she had become increasingly demonstrative with her affections as the day wore on.
And that suited him just fine.
Her good mood had lasted until it was time for her prenatal appointment. As they walked through the door that led them into the clinic's plush waiting room, Spike was sure the bones of his hand were slowly being crushed by the sheer force of her desperate grip.
But he'd suffered in silence.
After a very brief wait, the two had been led to an examining room, and Spike helped her to undress and change into the open-backed gown. Luckily, they had provided two gowns - one for the back and one for the front - and once garbed in the highly unflattering garments, Spike had settled the slayer onto his lap to wait for the doctor’s arrival.
Spike had never quite seen the particular look of fear upon Buffy's face as was present during her exam; her anxiety palpable, the dread in her expressive hazel eyes barely contained. Yet, the mere fact that the necessary pelvic exam had been conducted in such a different manner as her previous violations, allowed Buffy a small measure of comfort. Spike found the staff friendly - procedures were explained, questions were answered. Nothing like the time she’d been incarcerated by the military.
As promised, Spike had refused to leave her side, murmuring encouragement that had assisted in abating the waves of panic that had threatened Buffy's peace of mind. After it was over, Buffy found herself angry at the weakness she had displayed and vowed that her time for panic was officially over.
And again, that suited Spike just fine.
When it had come time for the ultrasound, Spike had steeled himself for disillusionment. However, Buffy'd managed to shock the hell out of him.
He had anticipated her first question to revolve around the presence of any demonic attributes that might be visible by ultrasound, but it was as if that thought had never crossed her mind. And the doctor had never mentioned it, concentrating, instead, on the baby’s sex and health.
The doctor and ultrasound technician had assured both of them that, as far as they could see, nothing was giving either a cause for concern. To their credit, they did not even mention the way the baby's heart rate kept in direct time with her own - when in actuality, the rate should have been beating at approximately double of Buffy's. If her baby had been entirely human, of course.
And now he was going to have a daughter. Unbidden tears blurred his vision as the vampire stood in the kitchen and stared down at the remnants of cake that Buffy had all but devoured the previous night. Worry began seeping through his hardened resolve. Buffy's body was getting ready to deliver, evidenced by the thinning and dilation of her cervix, and Spike found that he was bloody terrified. The clinic was sending over a midwife to assist with the home birth, but not even that small measure was doing much to alleviate his concern.
Like Buffy, he'd be damned glad when the wee one was born.
"You better not be in there eating my cake, Spike! Where is it?" Buffy whined playfully from the other room. "Both of your girls are hungry!"
Spike smiled at that. His girls. He liked the sound of that.
***
Giles had the choice of staying in London or returning home to Sunnydale - opting to choose the former. He reasoned that if the Council made a move, he wanted to be there to lend a hand.
And if they double crossed him, well... he'd be available for that, as well.
Knowing that he was most likely under some sort of surveillance, but this time by the Council, Giles executed his next move with extreme caution. His paranoia over being watched and overheard was increasing with each moment, and the watcher could only guess at what Buffy's life had been like these past months.
Excruciating, no doubt.
At the designated time, Giles moved to one of the Council's extensive libraries and situated himself in an unused, dusty corner. Palming the newly-obtained cellular phone, he turned the power on and waited for it to ring. He didn't exactly know why he was taking such strenuous measures, was merely following a gut feeling.
While he waited, he began to flip through the books he had pulled from the library’s shelves that made mention of personal relationships between a slayer and vampire. It didn't take long before he soon found himself engrossed in the material available. So much so, that he visibly started when the phone suddenly vibrated, alerting him that there was a call.
Fumbling to open the compact design, Giles put it to his ear.
"Yes?" He allowed a momentary pause. "Oh, yes... hello Joyce."
"Did I mention how much I hate this basement?" Angel grumbled on the other end, eyeing the steel walls of Willy's basement once more. His displeasure at remaining behind in Sunnydale was clear with every word he spoke.
"Yes, yes, of course," Giles replied dubiously. "Everything is just right as rain here. I had no problem with the flight whatsoever."
Angel sighed and shook his head. How he, the once great and powerful Angelus, had fallen. "Fine. I'll call again same time tomorrow night."
"Very well. I shall look forward to it." Giles stood up and prepared to leave. "I will talk to you on the 'morrow. Get some rest."
"Yes, dear," Angel replied mockingly, pulling out the piece of paper that Giles had written down the code phrases and what they meant. This was ridiculous. A brood was forthcoming, Angel could feel it. He'd just shaken off the last one.
Giles pushed the end button and returned to his room, taking with him the volumes he had retrieved. He felt rather like a dashing James Bond, and a spring suddenly crept into his step.
***
Buffy snuggled deeper into Spike's embrace, her body instinctively seeking the comfort of his as she wavered on the very cusp of waking and dropping back into a deep, peaceful slumber.
That deep oblivion where she didn't have to go pee every five minutes. Where her boobs didn't seem to suffer from some sort of growth disturbance. Where the Tums tablets weren't turning into her typical after-dinner mint.
Sleep had just won the tug-o-war, and Buffy's mind and body were just heading back to that blissful nothingness when Spike suddenly stiffened beside her, causing her eyes to shoot open in response.
But, by then it was too late.
Too late to scream.
Too late to fight.
Too late for anything, but regret, as she felt a sharp sting strike her arm. The last thing Buffy saw before a not quite-so-welcomed oblivion took hold was the terrified look in Spike's eyes as, he too, succumbed to the inevitable.
tbc..
*ducks and hides*
a/n- I am sorry for the last cliffie. No really. Anyway, I just want to assure everyone that I don't plan on anything occurring in this fic that will cause you to sit and shout "NOOOOOO!!!!" at the monitor. Because well, I just don't go there. :P Thank you to spikeskat again for the beta job!
chapter 11
The Council seemed to employ a certain mold of secretary - frumpy and asexual. Such was Giles' musings when he was delivered a message while selecting more books from the library the next day. His presence was required in Travers office immediately, and that did not bode well.
Once again seated before Travers, the head watcher lording over him behind his huge monstrosity of a desk, Giles was relieved when the man wasted no time getting to the point.
"We have located the military operation."
Giles waited for him to elaborate, gesturing impatiently for him to continue. "And?"
Travers took his time in answering. "Apparently, it is located near the quite infamous 'Area 51'. As of yet, we cannot ascertain if the two are affiliated. We are in the process of establishing our counter-surveillance measures, as we speak."
This took the watcher by surprise. It wasn't something he'd expected. "Area 51, you say?"
Travers nodded grimly.
Giles shook his head ruefully. "This is beginning to have a very ominous 'X-Files' tone to it, I'm afraid," he pointed out, not surprised by the blank look on Travers' face following his comment. He knew that the man wouldn't bother cluttering his mind with things of a science fiction nature; not unless it had direct bearing on his line of work.
And now, it appeared it was beginning to.
"Well, we can only hope that they have limited their experimentation to earth-bound creatures. Dealing with an extraterrestrial aspect would be most unpleasant," Giles added distastefully.
"Quite," Travers agreed.
When compared with the possibility of the military mucking around with combining slayer and either alien DNA or that of a vampiric nature, Giles found himself seemingly grateful for Spike's involvement.
"What is the proposed course of action?" Giles inquired, his question going unanswered as Travers private phone line began to ring.
Even before Travers replaced the hand set back in the cradle, Giles knew the news was not good, the harsh look settling over his employer's face preparing him for that fact.
"We appear to have a problem. This military group in question seems to have taken Miss Summers back in custody," Travers announced grimly.
"Oh dear lord..."
****
Buffy's eyes fluttered open slowly, her mind sluggish as she tried to piece together what had happened. When her vision cleared, she was greeted with a blaring depth of white, and she wanted to scream with frustration.
She remembered.
The bastards had her again.
Panic began rising within her, fast and furious, as Buffy fought through the remaining fog that insisted on clinging to her brain. Three months ago, this sight would have broken her.
Now it just pissed her off.
She lifted one arm to confirm that her strength was no longer working in her favor, but found her mobility hampered by the familiar thick metal clamped around her wrists.
"Oh, you have got to be kidding me," she grumbled, pulling on one chain that effectively shackled her to the bedrail of the hospital issue bed. The next thing she noticed was the absence of Spike's black t-shirt that she had worn to bed before being so rudely awakened. In its place, was the type of hospital gown that opened down the back, except the bastards didn't offer the same courtesy as the demon clinic, and she knew she wasn't fully covered. Most likely her ass would be hanging out if she ever managed to get out of this bed, she thought sourly. Looking over the bulge of her belly, she noticed the final injustice - the clear plastic tubing between her legs that snaked over the side of the bed. That one was new.
Bastards.
Determined to look on the bright side, she attempted to placate herself by acknowledging that at least she had been unconscious when they had inserted the urinary catheter... and whatever else they had done to her while they were down there. It worked - slightly. Buffy fought off the tears of helplessness that tried to pool in her eyes, especially knowing 'they' were on the other end of the two-way mirror, watching her every reaction. Well, she wasn't going to give them tears, that was for damn sure.
Best to stay angry.
Looking around, Buffy realized she was in a different type of cell than the last one. This one was bigger, and the bed to which she was currently chained was a step up from what she’d been made to endure before. It was still the same sterile white though; white floors, white walls, and white ceiling. Buffy vowed upon her escape, her home would never bear anything so sterile.
Home.
Spike. Oh god... Buffy didn't dare think of what they were likely doing to him, knowing she would not be able to keep her composure if she allowed her thoughts to go in that direction.
She heard a click outside her cell, then the door slid open. Buffy's lip curled instinctively and her eyes flashed. They may have broken her once, but thanks to Spike, she was broken no longer. She wouldn't allow them to do it again.
But the unexpected occurred. Spike was dropped unceremoniously on the floor of her cell without them ever having set foot inside.
"Spike!" she cried, struggling against her restraints, desperate to get to him. Against the white backdrop, Spike almost blended in - if you discounted the startling contrast of his blue cotton gym shorts that he had worn to bed and the array of bruises that riddled his body.
It seemed to take every ounce of his strength to lift his head off of the ground; but once he did, the relief that shone in his eyes had Buffy's tears flowing in earnest.
"Oh...Buffy..." he breathed, as he slowly and painfully climbed to his hand and knees. Buffy gasped when she saw his condition - there wasn't much of him that hadn't been bruised or bloodied. It seemed to take him a lifetime to reach her side. Once there, Spike managed to muster one last show of strength and tumbled beside her on the bed. He was clearly exhausted and suffering considerable pain.
"What did they do to you?" Buffy asked, her voice tormented.
He opened one bleary eye to look up at her and managed to give her a lopsided smile. "I got a wee bit mouthy, is all." Regret shadowed his face. "I let you and the tiny bit down. I didn't keep ya safe, did I?"
But Buffy refused to let Spike blame himself, shaking her head furiously at him. "This is so not your fault."
Spike sensed her frustration and let the matter drop. "You ok? They haven't done anythin' to you, 'ave they?"
Buffy shook her head. "Other than being chained up, I'm just peachy. I just can't believe they put us together like this, you know?"
Spike's eyes closed wearily as he nuzzled his face against Buffy's shoulder, breathing in the scent of her. His gut clenched at the lingering scent of her fear that soured the air. "Bastards wanted to see if I'd cuddle with ya or try to off ya, is why."
Buffy was silent, her mind whirling at a rapid pace. She didn't need to ask Spike to know that he had been drugged, his strength depleted as well. But they didn't have him chained up, which seemed totally unfair to her. A thought came to mind, and she grabbed hold of it.
Knowing he still possessed his acute sense of hearing, Buffy spoke in a voice inaudible to humans or microphones, "Spike, you need to bite me."
His eyes flew open and the look he gave her was filled with incredulity and horror.
Still speaking softly, Buffy interrupted before he could even argue. "No, Spike, listen to me. If we are going to have any chance of getting out of here, you need to be better. And strong. You need my blood."
"Not gonna hurt you or the baby."
Buffy sighed in frustration. Didn't he get it? "Spike, they will take the baby from us if we don't get out of here. There will be no baby. You need to do this. It. Is. The. Only. Way." Her eyes filled with tears of frustration. "We can't let them have our baby, Spike."
A shudder wracked Spike's tortured frame at her words. Buffy's lips parted to plead with him once more when she felt the subtle shifting of his body until he was positioned on his stomach leaning against her. The shackles on her wrists kept her arms positioned away from her body and Spike buried his face into the inviting space between her bicep and her ribs. To the casual observer -or spying military personal - it appeared as if the vampire was merely seeking comfort.
But Buffy felt the sharp ridges of his forehead dig into her sensitive flesh, and her breath caught in her throat.
But pain was not really an issue, as the razor-sharp teeth gently sank into the tender flesh of her bicep and into her brachial artery. He had chosen a good spot, she realized, it would be hard to spot the marks on her inner arm, unless they took the time to examine her. Buffy expelled her pent-up breath slowly.
Trust was not even an issue here. Buffy trusted Spike with her life, and this was no different. Her entire body was on alert for a different reason, expecting their captors to come storming through the door at any moment, taking Spike away. Or worse. She looked down and noted with relief that his ridges were out of sight, still feeling his mouth pulling the blood from her body.
When she felt his tongue begin to attend to the marks he had made after too short of a time, she panicked. "No! More. You need more, Spike."
She felt, rather than heard, his growl of frustration, but experienced again the sensation of his throat muscles working to swallow the large mouthfuls of blood he was taking. He wasn't exactly going easy on her, and she appreciated that - wanting him to have as much as possible in the event this feeding was interrupted.
But Buffy could practically feel his agitation and knew instinctively he wasn't enjoying it.
In another time, another place, Buffy realized that this was something she could enjoy. This feeling of Spike taking life-giving sustenance from her body. It was the very intimate of acts. But for now, everything about the way in which it was occurring was wrong.
The pleasure would have to wait until later.
Her face hardened.
And there WOULD be a later, she resolved firmly.
God, she hoped this worked. That her blood counteracted whatever drug Spike had been given that robbed him of his supernatural strength. It was their only chance.
Their daughter's only chance.
tbc
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