Chapter 8

Faith waited patiently by the door for five minutes before she entered the training room. She vaguely listened to the sound of flesh on canvas though her attention was trained on the immediate dangers of a potential hangnail and she studied it meticulously, entering the training room after she heard the frustrated sigh of her future father.

"Knock, knock," she said, her lips pursed in a brilliant smile, "can I come in?"

Spike sat with his back against the far wall, head in his hands and didn’t look up at Faith’s voice. "Was wonderin’ if you were gonna stay outside the door all day." He tried to sound snarky though it came out more along the lines of tired. Tired and frustrated. Tired of the sacrifices necessary for his slayer to make for the world to be safe. Frustrated that, despite his love and devotion to her and the Nibblet, he was ultimately powerless to take her pain away.

"Well," Faith said as she walked over to him and sat cross-legged in front of Spike. "Wanted to give you some time alone so, you know, you could finish pummeling the poor, defenseless heavy bag over there."

Spike looked up at her amused tone and said defensively, "I did not pummel the bag, luv." She stared at him humorously before nodding her head towards the training tool.

"I think said victim of your frustrations would beg to differ." He opened him mouth to reply but clamped it shut when he registered the disrepair of the bag.

"Told ya," Faith smirked and Spike couldn’t help but smile at her smugness. It reminded him so much of the look he often gave Buffy-the look that irritated the slayer to no end.

"Guess I rubbed off on you just the same," he muttered to himself.

"What do you mean?" Faith asked.

"Jus' that look you gave me a minute ago. Same one I give the slayer quite a bit. Surprised the chit hasn't staked me for it yet," he chuckled.

"Well, yeah," the slayer mused, "there were a few times growing up where I thought that you guys were gonna kill each other. I mean, it's kinda funny now that I'm older but then," she shuddered, "I was so scared sometimes."

Spike wrinkled his eyebrows in concern and he instinctively cupped her cheek in his hand. He smiled when she purred in content and laid her hand atop of his.

"I'm sorry, luv," he said sincerely. "I can't believe that we'd fight like that in front of you." As much as he loved Buffy, there was no doubt in his mind that they would undoubtedly get into some intense…altercations. But not even he could conceive the notion that they would go at it in front of a younger Faith.

"Hey," she said and swatted him on the arm, "you're brooding. You're starting to remind me of…" at the horrid glare he graced her with, Faith shut her mouth, knowing that she had screwed up.

"Dad," she reached for him but her fingertips only brushed against the leather duster as the vampire moved out of reach.

Cursing her stupidity, Faith jumped up and walked over to the slumped shoulders of her father. She could sense the tension and heartache radiate through him and knew that he was in one of his moods and as much as she could break through her father's defenses, even she had trouble pulling him up from these particular doldrums. So she did what she always had done when he was like this: she waited.

For all his concentration and determination, Spike could barely staunch the tears from falling.

"Angel," he whispered after several minutes of silence. "It's always Angel." He punctuated the last part by slamming his hand into the wall. Plaster and blood flew and the disgusting sound of bone and concrete meeting reverberated through the room.

"What the hell?!" Faith shouted, the thunderous sound jarring her from her internal thoughts. She grabbed Spike by the shoulder and whirled him around, her anger at him overwhelming her sympathies for the moment. She stared down at his bloodied hand and turned fiery emerald and cerulean eyes toward the face of the vampire and the anger immediately drained from her.

The usually intense steel blue eyes glazed over in a watery stare and his face was transfixed in a bitter smile. He wiped his brow absently with his good hand and shook his head, never taking his eyes off his injured hand.

Faith was at a loss what to do. She had only been privy to this self-inflicting behavior only once in her life. She was thirteen and was spending the night over at Willow and Tara's when she realized that she had left the number to her crush, Michael Collins, at home. Though all logic dictated that she should just call and ask her parents to look it up, she didn’t want them scrounging around in her room nor did she want the third degree from her overprotective dad. So she had slipped out, confident that she'd be gone twenty minutes at the most. As she crept through the backyard, hopeful that her dad wouldn't sense her (a fact she did not think of until the backyard was in view), she was just about to streak across the yard when the backdoor flew open and an obvious distraught vampire stalked down the steps. With a roar that terrified her, Spike had slammed his hand into the tree. She was horrified by the sickening thud of wood on flesh but was shaken to her core when he repeated the action several times until she could discern not a bit of alabaster skin on his hand as it was covered in blood. Her stomach seized and threatened to eject the pizza and ice cream she had had earlier until her father did something she had never seen.

He fell to his knees and wept like frightened child. The sight of her father crumpled in obvious anguish tore at Faith's heart and she was about to rush from the bushes when her mother came out, tears in her eyes as well. She had known immediately that there had been a fight and, from the looks of it, Buffy had hit a nerve.

She watched from her position as her mother wrapped her arms around Spike, who at first refused the comfort. But as she whispered to him "Baby, I am so sorry. Please forgive me. Please don’t hate me, I love you so much," he lurched into her arms, wrapping his arms tightly around her waist. Through her tears, Faith saw Buffy rain kisses on top of Spike's platinum locks. She was about to turn and leave when Buffy happened to look up and their gazes locked.

For one brief moment, Faith felt nothing but disgust for the woman who had given birth to her until she forced herself to look deeper into Buffy's eyes. When she saw it, her heart went out to her mother. In her gaze was that same blinding fear, that same bone weary regrets that had permeated the air when Buffy begged Spike’s forgiveness. She was so afraid. Whatever had been said had terrified her into thinking that she would lose Spike and now, knowing that her daughter had witnessed at least a portion of it, Buffy was sure that Faith would hate her.

As much as she didn’t want to forgive Buffy so quickly, the words on her Grandfather Giles' tombstone flashed in her mind…

Faith held her mother's pleading gaze and, willing her love and forgiveness to shine through, the teen's lips curved in a tight smile as tears simultaneously slipped from her eyes. She saw her mother pull Spike even closer to her and Faith took that as a cue to leave.

As she delicately fingered Spike's injured hand, Faith remembered that moment as the last big fight her parents had had. After that, all arguments were settled within a day, complete with obnoxious kissing and other things that Faith so did not want to imagine.

Buffy had talked to her daughter the next day though Faith never found out what Buffy had said. To her, it didn’t matter, as long as Spike didn’t hold it against her, she was--not exactly okay with it--but she would deal.

And that's what had to be done now.

Faith placed her arms around the distracted vampire and led him to the bench against the wall. She sat next to him and gingerly cradled his injured hand in her lap.

"So," she quipped, hiding her own pain, "did it help?"

Spike, who had been staring at his hand in hers the entire time, finally looked up at her as if he was seeing her for the first time. He sighed tiredly before plastering a wry grin on his immaculate features.

"Well," he drawled, "it did for a minute. Course, that’s the way with satisfaction, ya know? Never lasts long enough and when it is over-always repercussions."

Faith scrunched her nose and eyed him in disgust. "Please tell me you’re not talking about what I think you are…"

Faith’s comment had the effect of pulling the vampire from his malaise and he chuckled lightly. "No worries, pet," he said amiably, "don’t wanna sully my girl’s virgin ears."

"As if. It’s not like I haven’t already been scarred for life by you and Mum goin’ at it." She shook her head, distraught. "My fragile mind will never heal from the trauma." Spike studied her serious face for a moment before both of them burst into raucous laughter.

After several minutes, father and daughter wiped the tears from their eyes and, without thought, Spike choked out from his mirth, "No way in bloody hell you could be the poofter’s daughter." That simple statement had the effect of sobering both individuals up and Faith was disappointed to see the return of Spike’s morose countenance.

"Da’…" She began but Spike silenced her with a wave of his hand.

"No worries, Bitlet," he went for a casual tone but failed miserably. "S’not like I’m not the one that gets to raise you." He ran his good hand through her close-cropped hair affectionately and she smiled sadly. The despair of not being able to be called her real father was weighing on Spike and Faith was acutely aware of it. She was on the cusps of telling him the truth before she remembered the warning given to her by Emerald.

Truthfully, she didn’t understand the relevance of Spike finding out that Faith was his daughter, but Faith would trust Emerald’s word for now; it wasn’t as if she had a choice. Or did she? After all, there was a big-time battle ahead and she didn’t want him to be distracted by that extra bit of knowledge. No, she would say nothing now, but after everything was over…what else had Emerald told her?

Those simple words gave her the confidence she needed and there was no doubt in her mind to tell him everything after this nightmare was over.

She squeezed his shoulder firmly and greeted him with a warm smile and he returned with one that almost reached his eyes. Faith knew how her father could sometimes get, often times more moody than her mother. But unlike five minutes ago, his present dejection could be handled by simple distraction.

"You know," she said cheerfully and snaked her arm through his, "Mum always said that you were even more stubborn now than when I was around. And you know something? She was so right."

Spike jerked his head to the side and with furrowed brows, he regarded his Bitlet. "Stubborn?" He asked in disbelief. "The Slayer has the temerity to call someone stubborn. Will wonders never cease," he muttered to himself.

"Well, you are," she said petulantly and purposely pushed her lip out in a pout.

"Awww c'mon, Bitlet," Spike moaned. The pout was something he could never resist, be it from Dru's petty ramblings to Dawn's begging eyes, once the pout was in effect, the Big Bad was bad no more.

"Okay, so maybe I am a tad bit…headstrong but…" Faith's brief cackle interrupted him. "Mind telling me what's so funny?"

Faith smiled internally, ecstatic that he seemed to be coming around, but externally she made with the satisfied smirk. "So you agree? That you are pigheaded."

"I should think not!" He shouted indignantly. "Your Mum is definitely the proud owner of that particular title. Just because I may at times be disagreeable does not mean that I am a pigheaded little bint that doesn't know the truth if it bit her on her peachy arse." With each word, Spike's voice had risen an octave and now, he stood in front of Faith, panting unnecessarily. "What?" He asked at her smug look until it dawned on him. "That's bloody unfair, Bitlet," and he slumped back into the chair, unconsciously resting his injured hand in her lap again.

"I had to do something, Daddy. I mean you were heading into dangerous territory."

"S'not like I haven't been there before," he whispered. His eyes began to take on the glassy look but Faith reached out and held his chin firmly in her hand before he could drop it.

"Don't," she commanded and Spike's pain lessened.

"Why? I'm tellin' the bleedin' truth." He grabbed a fistful of hair in frustration before yanking his hand clear of his tousled locks. "I've existed for a century and a half, and all I've known--in life and in undeath--has been pain. Pain and suffering: both physical and mental. Whether I was the one dishing it out or someone else was the one wrenching the knife into my gut." He laughed humorlessly. "Hell, every woman I have ever loved has broken my heart. Cecily had the honor of being the first. Then there was Dru. I was with her a hundred years, but she got tired of me. Said I wasn't 'evil enough', that I had the slayer's scent all over me. And we won't even get started on your Mum. Only reason the Nibblet hasn't is because she's not old enough."

"I haven't," Faith said, forgetting all pretenses.

"What?"

"I haven't. Broken your heart."

"Only a matter of time, luv," he muttered and found himself deposited onto the floor.

Spike stared up into the eyes of a pissed off slayer and, if it weren't for the tension that roared from her, he would have laughed at the glaring similarities between this young woman and her mother.

"Jesus," Faith declared, her hands angrily thrust against her hips and she stared at her father incredulously. "Is that all you think about? How bad you're gonna get hurt next?"

Spike had the decency to look ashamed though his words did not change his sentiments. "Why not? That's what always happens."

"Well, maybe if you didn’t fixate so much on 'it' happening, then maybe 'it' wouldn’t happen. Did you ever think of that?" She waited several seconds and when it was obvious that he wasn’t going to reply, she continued, though her voice did not hold the blatant hostility.

"Life is a funny thing like that, Daddy. You expect something to happen for good or ill, the more you think about it, the greater the possibility it is that it will happen."

"So, what? Am I supposed to think shiny, happy thoughts? News flash, kid, there ain't nothin' shiny or happy about this sodding world. You don’t stay alive as long as I have puttin' your faith into hopes and dreams." He stared at her, unflinchingly, ignoring the pain in his hand and the greater pain of his heart shattering at the thought that this woman was not from his loins. Even still, he was so proud of her right now, the swell of pride fought valiantly against the agony of coming in second to Angel once more.

Instead of spitting back in a matching tone, Faith spoke softly though the words seemed to echo through the room. "So why do you stay with Mum?"

Any confrontational feelings Spike had deflated at the simple question and he lowered his head. There was no reply he could give, no honest answer, no snarky retort that'd make sense. Not to him at least. How could he when he had endured countless beatings and gut-wrenching beratings at the hands and lips of Buffy? How could he take the degradation whenever she felt like it and still remain? How could he look at her the same way--full of love and no hint of resentment in his gaze--after she had almost killed him in the alley? How could he not hate her for spitting those three words--'you're beneath me'--that had almost destroyed him more efficiently than a stake ever could? No matter what she did, what she said to him, he remained and loved her just as much afterwards. But that still did not answer the question of why?

"Because I love her," he whispered to himself.

Even with her inherent vampiric hearing, Faith barely made out what Spike said. She smiled softly at his words and sat down in front of him.

"Even after all of the things she has done to you?" He nodded. "Even after all the terrible things she has said to you?" He nodded again. Faith scooted beside him and leaned her head against his shoulder. Taking the cue, Spike wrapped his arm around Faith and pulled her closer but he said nothing. He knew that she wasn’t finished and he decided that, for once, he would listen.

"You can have hope that a woman who has, for most of your relationship, debased, degraded and physically abused you--a woman that you have tried to kill on several occasions and vice versa--you have hope that she will one day love you?"

"If you put it that way…"

"Why?"

Why? That was the question he asked himself after leaving her on the porch that night. He had been intent on killing her, sod the chip, but couldn’t at seeing her pain. He asked himself why every minute that she denied that the two kisses meant anything. He asked himself why the morning after, when she had called him 'convenient'. Asked himself why after she had left him beaten and bloodied in the alley, an inch away from unconsciousness--never checking to see if he made it out before the sun rose much less apologizing for it. He had asked the heavens why, after she had broken his heart and ended what, in theory, was, albeit grainy, a relationship. Every time he cursed her and himself, the Initiative and Dru, the answer always ended up the same. Despite understanding that his chances to gain her love were all but nonexistent, he still hoped. To him, the reason was quite simple.

"Because," he said after a heavy sigh, "hope is the only thing that keeps me alive."

Faith smiled into his coat and squeezed his knee. "That’s exactly what you told me when I was little."

He couldn’t help but smile at her statement. "Fancy that, somebody actually listenin’ to some good old fashioned Spike advice." His arm nestled her even closer into his body.

"Yeah. Except the one actually giving said advice." She glanced up at him, adorning her resolve face, a gift from her Auntie Willow, to crumble any of his objections. "I’m serious, Dad. Giving advice is good, especially when it’s from someone like you, who serves up the truth like some five-star restaurant maitre d'. But as long as you are giving good advice, you might as well take it because after awhile, once you stop believing your own advice, people are gonna pick up on that and stop listening. But most importantly, you’ll stop living."

"Been doin’ that for sometime now, luv."

Faith rolled her eyes but did not comment on that. "You are so full of life and energy and it’s infectious. I bet you don’t even know the effect you have on people."

"That I do, pet. The look o’ disgust’s usually a dead giveaway."

"Stop it!" She yelled, causing Spike to flinch ever so slightly. "God, is that all you think about? How bad and terrible you are?"

"I’m a vampire, luv. Bad and terrible’s in my design. Just a fact."

"And is it ‘just a fact’ that a fifteen year old girl calls you best friend? Or that you went up against a hell god and withstood torture for that same girl? Is that ‘design’ that you refer to responsible for you loving your natural enemy? Or better yet, her loving you?" She saw a bright light click in his eyes but continued her rant. "What? You don’t think she can?"

"That a trick question, pet?"

"Do you think that I would be here if you two stubborn freaks weren't madly in love with each other?" As the words flew out of her mouth, Faith silently cursed herself and hoped that Spike ignored her slip.

"Oh right," he spat sarcastically, oblivious to the slipup. "Buffy was so in love with me that she shags Peaches just long enough to make a baby. And what happens after that? Me, the great bloody git that I am, welcome her back with open arms." Faith barely held her anger in check at the callousness of her words but she held her tongue, waiting for Spike to finish.

Ever since he had found out that Angel was Faith's daughter, a small hole slowly grew within him and it was filled with every emotion associated with his grandsire; pain, torture, embarrassment, despair, rage, inadequacy and--most of all--jealousy and envy. For a hundred years Spike stayed by Drusilla and they gallivanted across the globe: China, Russia, South America--even Africa. They had murdered and fed with impunity, together. And despite her psychotic episodes, Dru adored him, that much he knew. But as much as he reveled in that, his body, mind and heart burned with the knowledge that she would never love him, for her heart had, and always would, belong to her one and only Sire. Everyday he spent with her was a reminder of that fact. Every time she wailed for her Daddy's return, a piece of Spike would be chipped away though he had always repressed it with false bravado and indifference. But now, knowing that the man he hated and envied above all others gave life to the young woman by his side--a woman he had already come to love unconditionally--the pain could no longer be ignored. He could not, would not, indulge his masochistic fancies to gauge how much more it could hurt and think about Angel together, one last night, with the love of Spike's existence. He was strong, but not strong enough to withstand that.

He stared up at the ceiling, his breaths coming in ragged sighs, willing blinders to cover his wandering thoughts. But just as they were erected, he caught a flash, a tiny wisp of emotion that told him all he needed to know but didn't want to hear.

"She'll never love me," he whispered, a fatigue unlike anything he had ever felt settled upon his shoulders, replacing the guilt that had been lifted earlier in the morning. "She may respect me, depend on me--hell, she may even come to care for me. But she'll never love me."

Faith sighed deeply, unable to form words out of her heartache at seeing the man she loved above all others so defeated. She had promised herself that she would tell him everything after tonight, but she had to do something now to piece him together before he was too far-gone.

"Listen Dad," she said, and her arm wrapped lovingly around his waist, "I'm not gonna sit her and tell you that things are gonna be just peachy for you and Mum. There are still a lot of things you two have to get through before you find contentment in each other's arms. Hell, even then, your very natures will still run interference now and again but, in the end, things'll work out."

Spike flashed a grin, heartened by his daughter's words, though he didn’t necessarily share her optimism.

"They do," he said longingly, "if you make them."

"There you go," she said brightly and hoisted them both to their feet. Spike yelped in surprise but couldn’t hold in the joy at seeing Faith's radiant smile. "Chin up now. All you needed is a little…"

"Don’t say it," he admonished, barely hiding his amusement. "You say it, Bitlet and I will chase you to the ends of the bloody earth if I have to."

Faith looked hurt and dropped her eyes. The platinum blond cursed, thinking she didn’t catch the mirth behind his words and grabbed her gently by the shoulders.

"Faith, honey. I was just…" but before he could get another word out, his world spun and he now stared up at the ceiling, dazed. Cautiously, he started to rise but felt a jarring weight land on his midsection and he instinctively exhaled.

"Bloody hell," he muttered and lifted his head up enough to figure out the unmoving object keeping him down. Blue eyes met the mischievous glint of emerald cerulean and he rolled his eyes in exasperation.

"Bitlet. What the bleedin' hell are you doin?"

Faith stared at him thoughtfully and crossed her arms. "What am I doing? What. Am. I. Doing?" She tapped one finger against her elbow pensively and her gaze was fixed on a spot on the ceiling. She jumped in glee and her wide eyes caught his. "I know what I was doing. I was saying…"

"Faith…," he warned.

"That. You."

"I'm giving you fair warning…"

"Have. To. Have." She quieted before her face was affixed with a Cheshire cat grin. "Faith!" She exclaimed and her fingers struck, hitting their mark.

There was no possible way Spike could have been prepared for her assault and when her fingers hit just below the fifth ribs, he jumped in shock, his eyes wide. Almost instantly, said shock transformed into uncontrollable laughter as Faith continued her merciless assault.

"Say it." She demanded, her voice holding no hint of amusement though she was having the time of her life.

"Say…what?" Spike choked through his hysterics.

"Say it." She repeated and promptly doubled her efforts.

Spike never liked being powerless. It was how he had felt those first years with Angelus and co. Though he talked the talk, he never had a chance against the elder vampire who had his way with the younger vampire many times, in any way he liked. Then there was the time he had watched the Prague mob almost kill his lover, Dru. Had it not been for his animalistic rage, they would have torn her apart. Only a few years after that, he had to watch from a bloody wheelchair while--who else?--Angelus tortured him in every way but physical as Spike could do nothing but watch (and listen) as Drusilla reveled in the return of her 'Daddy'. Then, of course, there was the Initiative and the sodding chip that they had lodged in his brain, leaving him unable to hunt and defenseless against the likes of wankers like Harris. To put it mildly, Spike loathed the feeling of inadequacy.

But as he writhed in the ground, held down by his daughter, powerless to do anything, he couldn’t help but realize that, despite being defenseless against her, he couldn’t be happier.

"Are you gonna say it?" Faith questioned and her fingers danced across his ribs with supernatural dexterity.

Spike refused until his sadistic daughter changed positions and concentrated on the sensitive skin at the base of his neck. Spike hissed and put up his hands in surrender.

"Alright already," he pled, "I'll bloody well say it." Faith ceased her ministrations and stared expectantly at him.

"I'm waiting," she said before adding, "and don’t try anything funky, or else…" she let the threat hang in the air.

Wiping tears from his eyes, Spike sat up on his elbows before locking his gaze on the slayer. "I. Have. To. Have. Faith." He drawled slowly and Faith smiled at her victory.

"Good," she said and ran her hand through his hair before standing. "Glad we've ironed that little wrinkle out." She turned toward the door, thus missing the evil smirk that crossed the vampire's face but she did not miss the steel grip that fastened along her ankle, causing her to fall.

Using her slayer speed, Faith's arms shot out, bracing her fall but before she could do anything else, two hands cabled around her waist and she was hoisted into the air.

"What are you doing!?" She half-screamed.

"Well," Spike answered casually, "I said I had to have Faith and…lookie here; one Faith, ripe for the tickling coming up…"

"Daddy!" She protested but she could form no other words as her world crashed into a haze of giggles.

***

"So, Bitlet," Spike said, breaking the comfortable silence. Not two minutes ago, he had carried out the remaining portion of his revenge. He glanced over at his daughter and laughed silently at her flushed and disheveled appearance. That'll teach her to mess with the Big Bad…Dad. He mused. They now lay side by side, staring at the ceiling as if the answers to the universe were hidden between the wood beams.

"Yeah, Dad?"

"How'd you get the name Faith?"

"Why do you ask?"

Spike nibbled at his tongue, reflecting on their previous conversation before answering. "Seems to be sort of ironic that faith and hope is what you were giving me earlier."

"I do what I can," she joked before getting serious. "Have you ever heard of another slayer by the name of Faith?"

"Sounds familiar. Didn’t she go rogue though? From what I remember, the bleedin' Scoobies asked my help in trackin' her down if I'm not mistaken."

"You're right," Faith informed, "she did go to the other side. They really don’t know why, but she had a lot of problems. I mean, she had problems before she was chosen and having that much power--let's just say it didn’t help her get better.

"Anyway, she killed a guy and, after some time, turned herself in. She served seven years and by the time she got out, she was like a different person."

"Different good, I assume."

"Yeah. I mean, I didn’t know her or anything, but put it this way--Mum hated her but…but by the end, they had become friends."

"Hmmm. The Slayer with a friend outside the Scoobies? Oww," he grunted when Faith punched him in the shoulder.

"Stop. Anyway, like I said, they had become good friends. They fought together for a good ten years before M'shi-Dar."

"Come again, luv."

"M'shi-Dar was like this inter-dimensional hell god, sorta like Glory but a whole helluva lot tougher."

"Balls."

"Uh, yeah. In the portents referencing his arrival, he was known as the 'Eater of Worlds'. Anyway, M'shi-Dar had somehow found a way into our world and his emergence created a temporary hell mouth in LA."

"As if that place needs it," Spike muttered.

"Tell me about it," Faith conceded.

"Considering that you are here, I wager that we defeated the ponce."

"Yeah, but not without casualties."

"Was that when the whelp and demon-girl…" he trailed off, an unfamiliar pang constricting in his gut. He ignored it.

Faith shook her head. "No. That was a few years later. Surprisingly, the Scoobies didn’t lose anyone, though Willow and Tara were hospitalized for several months, in comas. They tried to use this spell that M'shi-Dar short-circuited back into them. It's a miracle that they didn’t die." She said the last words quietly and Spike knew that even secondhand, the memories were very painful.

"Angel and his gang fought right by your side and Mum said you guys actually got along," she stole a glance over at Spike and noted the dark look that clouded his features. "From what you guys told me, M'shi-Dar's minions were nearly as strong as Glory, though they were definitely more vulnerable to harm than she was. Angel lost two of his people--I think his name was…Garn? No, Gunn. Him and his wife-Fred, I think-- were killed in the fray. After you guys defeated all his minions, Mum said you guys had nothing left and then…"

"Lo and behold, he arises," Spike replied sardonically.

"Of course. Well, I guess M'shi-Dar saw this and took humanoid form to have more fun with you guys," she said dryly. "Seemed to be his undoing. Apparently, the prophecy that foretold of him also said that the greatest weapon against him was his own hubris."

"This blighter’s soundin’ like Glory more all the time," he observed. "So how did we defeat him? Did he trip over his own pride?" Both cringed at the horrible pun and effectively ignored that it was ever spoken.

"Faith. The prophecy foretold that a warrior of the light, once darkness cloaked shall bind herself to M'shi-Dar, sealing her fate of eternal torment for the souls of the world." Faith didn’t notice the tears that fell unbidden down her cheek at the retelling of Faith's sacrifice.

Spike sat up and stared at his daughter in horror. "You mean…" but he couldn’t finish, for the truth of the matter was in Faith's eyes. The other Faith had given herself for the sake of him and Buffy, Angel and the Scoobies, the world. And what was her reward? Eternal torment. Though he never met the girl of whom they spoke of, a wave of grief and anger surged within him and he rammed his injured hand into the mats.

"Bloody, soddin' Powers!" He roared. "The chit gives herself up for us and what does she get? A nice, ripe buggering from those poncey gits." The anger threatened to consume him and Spike wanted nothing more than to rip something to shreds. Then he felt a gentle hand on his shoulder and one look at his daughter and his rage was abated.

"I know," she agreed. Faith could not understand why the other slayer had to suffer but it had been ordained by the powers. When she had been told that story, Faith had vowed never to trust in the Powers or their prophecies. That was the driving reason she refused to believe her mother when Buffy begged Faith to kill her. How could she put trust in the whims of beings that cared for nothing but 'balance and order'?

"Well, I don’t know too much on the particulars but, needless to say, M'shi-Dar was banished along with Faith and everything was safe. That was about six years before I was born. Mum said that she wanted Faith to be remembered, not for what she was at first, but for what she had become and my birth signified that. Like my birth, Faith's rebirth was unexpected and miraculous in its own right. I guess it was only fitting to name the miracle child of a slayer and vampire after someone like that."

"Yeah," Spike replied gravely, swallowing the lump that formed in his throat. He was beyond words and chose to remain quiet, contemplating his disorderly thoughts.

Faith was exhausted. The emotional toil over the last twenty hours coupled with the tale of the other slayer's sacrifice grated her nerves and she just wanted to lie there for a minute.

"So," Spike said, finally breaking the downtrodden emotion of the room, "I'd wager that I was the one that suggested 'Joyce', huh?"

The icy smoothness of her father's voice, the way he slipped back into that cocky banter despite the emotional despair of the last few minutes was something that both Faith and her mother greatly enjoyed. He had the knack of shaking them from their worst of moods. Faith had always been grateful for her dad's abilities to do such, none more so than now.

"Yep, although Mum was kinda worried that you were gonna want to name me 'marshmallow'."

"Why would the silly bint think that?" he questioned, his offense clear.

"Well, because, for ten years, all you talked about when Joyce was mentioned were those--and I quote--'little bitty marshmallows'." Spike glared at Faith who only looked at him innocently. It wasn't long before he rose in a huff, his back to her so she wouldn’t see the smile on his face.

"Aw, c'mon, Daddy," Faith mewled, wrapping her arms around Spike's waist from the side. "You know I was just foolin' about."

Spike shot a scowl at her but it quickly broke into a toothy grin and he wrapped his arm around her shoulders and walked towards the door.

"Well, hey, she knew how to make 'em just right," he defended.

"Sure, sure," Faith teased as they neared the door. She grabbed Spike's wrist before he turned the handle.

"Bit?" he questioned, reading her purposeful gaze.

"I meant what I said earlier, Daddy. About hope." He looked away but she held his face delicately in her hands. "Look at me." Reluctantly, he complied and wanted to hide at the raw emotion that stared back at him. No one had ever given him such an open look of love before, except maybe Dawn, and he wasn't sure what to do about it.

"The only way things will go your way is if you have faith that they will. I know about the speech you gave Mum, about the death wish of a slayer, and it is so true. You keep wishing for something, sooner or later, it's gonna happen. That's especially true for bad things. I'm not naïve, thinking that things will always turn out rosy, but I do know this: I will not lose faith again. Never." He was taken aback by her adamancy.

Faith saw her father's uncertainty and she forced her hard lines to relax. "Daddy, I love you so much and I know that things aren't where you want them to be right now. But trust me when I say this: after all this is over, there will be things that you will find out that will make you wanna die of happiness." She hugged him and he inhaled her scent--so much like Buffy--before whispering in her ear.

"If I died right this moment, I couldn’t be happier," and he allowed the joyous tears fall as Faith sobbed happily into his chest.

The stood still, lost in the embrace, for a few more minutes until the distant jingle of the Magic Box bell jarred them from it. They pulled apart, wiping the tears from the other's face and smiled tiredly at one another.

No more words were needed as they went to greet the others. Spike had never felt better than he did right now. Faith may not have been his biological daughter, but she was a part of him nonetheless, just like Dawn. Just like Buffy. They were his girls through and through and he'd be ash before he let anything happen to them.

No, that was not true. Even death, the true death, could not keep him from his three girls.

He had once thought that his heart could only belong to one woman at a time but now he knew better. His love was evenly divided into thirds and, contrary to belief, his heart was not torn between them. It surged with depths of love he couldn’t conceive; and he wouldn’t try.

Love like he felt for Buffy, Dawn and Faith required no words. Hell, it required no thoughts.

The love that he felt just was. And in that way, it was like the universe--infinite and forever expanding, consuming the nothingness that preceded it.

And Spike welcomed it with open arms.

Always Got Your Back

Two hours after Buffy had returned with Giles and Spike with Faith, the Scoobies had a tentative outline for a plan. During that time, the slayer and vampire had made a trip down to Willie’s Tavern; bullying what little information he had on Seth. One hour after that, the plan was complete. All they had to do now was to clarify everyone's responsibilities.

"Okay," Buffy said, her back straight and eyes focused, "everybody knows what they have to do." Instead of nods, the seven warriors issued resolute stares.

"Good," she replied, crossing her arms below her breasts. "Now, we go over this one more time and get as much rest as we can in the next," she glanced at the clock, "Three hours." Running her hands through her hair, Buffy addressed the person nearest to her.

"Okay, guys. Here we go. Giles?"

"Stay with Willow and Tara to help them reinforce the protection spell as well as preparing the binding spell on Rack."

"Willow, Tara?"

"We follow five minutes after you. Then I anchor Tara when she performs the protection spell," the redhead chirped.

"Perform protection spell around the Bronze--so people can get out but not in, then support Giles with the binding spell," Tara replied.

"Good. Anya, Xander?"

"Help everyone get out when you give the signal," the ex-demon responded.

"Help Anya with the evacuation and back you, Spike and Faith up in case minions show."

"Spike, Faith?"

"Case the place for any baddies," the vampire drawled, "and watch the back exit."

"I go in first, take a position on the scaffolding. Once I spot Seth, I'll pinpoint him for you when you walk in. Scan the club for any other hostiles, including Rack."

"Hostiles, luv?" Spike asked, somewhat bemused, "you been takin' lessons from those gits at the Initiative?" Her only response was a familiar smirk.

"Good," Buffy said. "As for me, like Faith said, I trail behind her by five minutes. That should give her enough time to spot Seth and make him. Same goes with Rack. We can't move too early," the slayer warned, "but I don’t want to cut it too close--like we did with Glory. We have to give ourselves at least some margin for error."

"I agree with Buffy," Giles supported and he was met with several nods. "Even if charging in at the last minute gives this Seth and whomever he is working with to perform the ritual less time, we cannot take the chance that they will hold us off long enough to complete it."

"But we don’t know if it's time sensitive or not," Faith pointed out, "so all this may be moot. It just may be an untimed battle royal or something."

"That's true, pet, but we can't take that chance, either. This Seth bloke said midnight, so I suggest we hit him hard fifteen minutes beforehand. We can hit the club twenty minutes before that."

"We better hit ‘em twenty-five minutes before," Buffy said. "We don’t know how many minions he's gonna have with him."

"But if there are enough to hold us in a fight for fifteen minutes, luv, chances aren't gonna be good for us white hats."

"Now don’t think I'm feverish," Xander chimed in, "but I'm leaning toward agreeing with Peroxide Boy. Buff, there's, what, eight of us? If we can't get through that in fifteen, then we are in some serious trouble."

"We're in serious trouble, Xander, no matter how we look at it. Aside from Faith, we know next to nothing about this Seth guy. And we sure as hell don’t know how many new recruits he's picked up for this little project of his. Willow and Spike know a little about Rack, but, as far as his abilities go…" Buffy sighed loudly and took her seat at the head of the table. She opened her eyes when she felt a cool hand stroke her arm.

"Hey, none of that, Slayer," Spike's voice was hard but she could see his concern and love for her in the shimmering depths of his eyes. "We are gonna do right by the Nibblet, I promise you. I won't fail you this time."

Buffy smiled wearily at her lover. Never would she have believed that a soulless vampire would be her rock, her strength in her times of weakness and uncertainty. She had told them what she and Giles had decided about allowing the ritual to take place. They had all been opposed to it, especially Spike and it wasn’t until Giles offered his suggestion of a cohesion spell that would keep Dawn's consciousness in tact while allowing the First to merge with her that he had calmed. In theory, Dawn would not be infected by the influence of the First, though their powers would be enjoined, thus fulfilling the prophecy. Though the spell itself would not hurt Dawn, there was only a fifty-fifty chance of it being effective. Not great odds to say the least, but it was better than nothing.

"You didn’t fail me last time, Spike," Buffy said and he smiled warmly. Her hand cupped his statuesque cheek and he leaned into her touch, emitting a cat-like purr. "Dawn's gonna be alright." His eyes fell and she knew he didn’t like the idea of standing back and doing nothing while the ritual was initiated. He did, however, have confidence in Giles and his plan. The Watcher's belief that storming the Bronze and eliminating whatever opposition would cause the performer of the ritual to rush, thus giving them the possibility that the First's entire essence would not transfer completely, thus upping the chance of success of Giles' cohesion spell.

"Not to interrupt your tender displays of affection, "Anya declared, "but aren't we forgetting something? Like the fact that this Seth guy can't be killed. I mean, if Faith is so strong and she can't even touch him, what chance do we have? And that's not even mentioning the fact that the First is going to be there with her ability to corrupt us."

"Well," Faith spoke up, "even though Seth can't be killed, he can be injured. Mum and Dad'll be able to handle him, I'm sure. As for the potential influence from the First," she dug into her shirt and pulled out the silver locket. "With this, I can create a sort of magical ward over everyone. It should greatly weaken her persuasive powers although it won't completely nullify them. If she concentrates long enough on one person, I'm not sure if it'll hold. It should also limit the potential influence that Rack may hold over Willow, too."

"But to do that," Giles offered, getting back to the First "her concentration would have to be divided, thus allowing more time for the cohesion spell to take hold."

"And like Faith said," Buffy supplied, "as far as Seth goes, he may be immortal, but he sure as hell isn't invulnerable. Especially when he's gonna have two slayers and a pissed off vampire to deal with." Every grunted their affirmations and Buffy smiled. This was her family. It had only been her, Giles, Willow and Xander in the beginning but, like all families, they had expanded. First there was Anya who was quickly followed by Tara. They offered the emotional support for Xander and Willow, respectively and that only strengthened the already powerful nucleus. Now, there were two more additions--Spike and Faith. Though the latter would not be born technically for another twenty years, she still was the beacon of hope that Buffy had always dreamt of but never expected to have; a family of her own.

I have a daughter, Buffy thought in amazement at the beautiful young woman that sat next to Spike. Not only that, but the father is a soulless vampire that loves us both with his entire being. What did I do to deserve such a complete love? She asked herself. Buffy had done a lot of soul-searching in the past twenty-four hours and, although she knew herself to be important in the grand scheme of things, she knew that did not alleviate her from her day-to-day responsibilities. Ever since her return, she had been less than pleasant to be around and, while some of it was justified as shock from being ripped from Heaven, she had to move on. Spike had told her that she couldn’t pity herself anymore and he was right. For the last six months she lived with a singular thought of wishing to be back in that peace but what she didn’t realize is that all those around her wished for the same thing. True, they hadn’t experienced it like she had, but that didn’t make their desires any less real. How long had they had peace since living on the Hellmouth? Maybe the snippets of childhood long since gone. As for the last six years? No, they had none for their fight, like hers, was a constant in their lives, as evil would always be lurking in the shadows. She had always lamented that she never had a choice while they did. As she thought about that, two revelations came to her. They fought by her side, not because they were chosen to do so, but because it was the right thing to do. They owed nothing to the fates except to live their lives how they saw fit. Evidently, fighting the forces of darkness was how they had chosen to spend that life and, in that, they had given up more than Buffy could ever realize.

Her second revelation came upon the words of Faith earlier. Buffy had for so long wailed about not having a choice. She was wrong. She always had a choice. Though she was destined to be the slayer, that destiny did not hold her to one course alone. Looking back on all the prophecies they had averted was proof that destiny was something that not even the Powers could control. Why? The simplicity of it was that single word-choice. No, she did not have to use her powers for the good of the world. She could have used them for her own selfish needs or for other nefarious purposes. Hell, she had spurned Giles (and Merrick) when they had first approached her though she relented in the end. Even at their insistence, she could have still held out on their pleas about her ‘destiny’, but she didn’t. Why? Because deep down, in the core of her soul, she knew that fighting against the darkness was, indeed the right thing to do. She had made a choice even before she realized she had had one to make and now, looking back on her decision, she knew she had made the right one.

And nothing, not even the call of Heaven’s eternal peace, could deaden the fire in her soul that now burned knowing that, at this moment, she was right where she wanted--no, needed--to be.

***

"Whatcha doin'?" Buffy asked as she strolled into the alley behind the Magic Box. Spike sat pensively, his body a wire of tension as a lit fag hung loosely from his lips. Buffy took in his drifter-like pose and smiled warmly. She watched as the wisps of smoke caught in the current of the twilight winds and mingled with the cooling air.

She imitated his pose and tilted her head against his shoulder. Spike instinctively wrapped his arm around her, pulling her closer. He inhaled one last puff of the cigarette before tossing it to the ground, extinguishing it with a twist of his foot. He leaned his head on top of hers and breathed in the scent that was all Buffy. It was a combination of vanilla, danger, passion and love not to mention several other distinctive smells that belonged only to her.

"Thinkin'," he finally answered her. To his reply, she snorted lightly, snaking her arms around his waist. This close to him, Buffy could finally admit to herself, that she was drawn to everything that was Spike. His touch. His smell. His taste. The way his arms were a promise of sanctuary where she didn’t always have to be strong. It was only here, in his arms that she could lay down--if only for a moment--the mantle of 'slayer' and just be Buffy. Not even with Angel had she ever felt so at peace. Unlike his grandsire, Spike did not hold her upon a pedestal. He didn’t ask her to be someone she wasn’t, just who she already was. He accepted her faults just as he did her strengths--unconditionally--and she never felt like she was being judged in his company. She was grateful for his accurate, albeit blunt, analysis of her, giving her the truth even when it was the last thing she wanted to hear. But he was also nurturing (when she allowed him to be) without smothering her. He knew her strength and her independence, though he knew when to step in without her saying a word. It was as if he could read her thoughts, gauge her moods, sometimes without even seeing her. That, above all things, scared her the most because intuition like that denoted a link that was more than physical and emotional. It was more along the lines of conjoined spirits, intertwined in the most intimate of ways. But how could that be? --Spike had no soul. At the same time, Buffy couldn’t explain the reason she gravitated towards him so easily. Although he did make her feel, there had been something else that drew her into him. It was something beyond words, beyond thoughts and, in ways, beyond comprehension. She only knew it was there, chanting to her endlessly, whispering to her in the darkness to release herself once and for all. She had resisted for so long, believing it to be the call of the demon, bating her into a trap to finally lower her guard so it could destroy her. But now she understood that that was not the case.

"Spike," Buffy asked timidly.

"Yeah, luv?"

"Do you ever…wonder why you love me?" Spike lifted his head and looked down on Buffy who, in turn, buried her head further into him. He smiled brightly though she didn’t see. He had always been amazed at how such a strong and willful woman whose everyday companion was death could, in one moment, transform into a young girl full of innocence. It was something he never got tired of.

"Is that a trick question, luv, or weren't you payin' attention to me last night?" he joked.

Buffy stiffened upon hearing his words but she immediately relaxed when she discerned the mirth of his tone. "No. I mean, yes I was paying attention." She paused, searching for the right word. "I don’t mean 'why' as in what you see in me…but 'why' as in 'how' can you love me so much."

Spike's body went rigid at her comment and he knew what she was going to bring up, so he decided to beat her to it.

"Is this about the soddin' soul again?" His words were clipped, though he staved the anger and hurt that welled up within him as best he could. "I thought you said…"

"No, Spike," Buffy interrupted and removed herself from his embrace. She moved in front of him, his legs angled between hers and he could feel the command within Buffy surface. He wanted to apologize for his harsh tones but, damn it; he was tired of the soul issue. He had thought it had already been put to rest with her little spiel on his 'humanity' but obviously it hadn't.

"Spike," she said and he met her with defiant eyes, expecting the same from her hazel jewels. He was thrown off when he saw compassion and determination radiate from her pupils and he was powerless to look away.

"Listen to me very carefully, Spike, cuz I'm only gonna say this once. I don’t care that you don’t have a soul. Not one bit. I like you just the way you are and I wouldn’t want to change a thing about you."

His eyebrows knitted together in confusion. "But you just said you wondered how I could love you so much."

Her smile was gentle and Spike swore that his body warmed at her simple gesture. She gently cupped his face into her delicate hands and adorned his lips with the sweetest of kisses. Pulling back slowly, she gazed into his now stormy eyes and spoke to him, her words touching his very core.

"Spike, there is nothing about you that I don’t want. It took me awhile before I realized this but a soul doesn’t matter to me. What matters to me is the person you are--yes, the person. There may be a demon inside of you but you are no monster, William. You are a good man who must understand that he is beneath no one. I am not going to leave you for someone who has a soul, so you can get that silly thought out of your head. Even if Angel came down to sweep me off my feet, he'd find the ground where I stand empty. You know why?"

"Why?" he asked, his voice overcome with emotion.

"Because I'll already be in your arms." Spike couldn’t hold the tears at bay and he wrapped Buffy in his arms, wishing that the moment would last forever.

"There are better moments than this," she whispered in his ear. He cocked his head in surprise, unaware that he had spoken his last thoughts aloud.

"Better moments, luv? Such as?"

She dropped her eyes before glancing at him coyly. "Such as me telling you how I really feel…" Buffy let her words trail off as her finger danced lightly against his chest.

All movement from Spike ceased at her words and his mind refused to process a single thought. Only the sensation of being in a dream cut through the clouded haze of his mind and Spike shook his head in an attempt to force his brain to function.

"What? Buffy…" his tone screamed with hope and it took all the power Buffy could muster not to take him where they stood and show him exactly how she felt. Instead, she offered him a brilliant smile and took his hands in hers, intertwining their fingers together.

"That's the moment I want to last forever," she told him, "because I want to remember the look on your face when I tell you how I really feel."

Spike could think of nothing to say and, instead, responded with a goofy grin. Without a second thought, his lips descended onto hers in a fury of passion and violence and the world around them blinked out of existence as their tongues and essences mingled.

Spike broke the kiss first, sensing Buffy's desperate plea for oxygen. Breathless, she leaned her forehead against his as air rushed into her depleted lungs. The familiar flame within her began to burn anew and she knew they had to get back inside before thought became a lost commodity.

"Guess we'd better get in," he said, echoing her thoughts.

"Yeah."

Reluctantly, Spike moved toward the door, one hand still clasped in his slayer's before he felt a strong tug and was blitzed by the heat of Buffy's lips once again.

It was Spike again who had to be the one to pull away and Buffy sighed at the loss of contact.

"Aren't we the lusty one?" he mused.

"It's the only way I know that can show you what I feel without saying it," she answered truthfully. Spike's amused visage melted into one of endearment at her confession. He knew that she had always been scared to make that full dive off the cliff but that didn’t seem to be the case here. No, there was something else she was waiting for.

"I want to tell you when we are making love in my--no--in our bed," she said. "I want to see your face when my words register in your ears and you sink into me. Telling you anytime, Spike would be wonderful, but that is the only situation where I think it would be perfect."

Stunned by her confession, Spike could only stare in amazement at the petite woman before him. She was no longer scared of her feelings. In fact, what she had said may very well have been more difficult to express than the simple I love you. Either way, he knew how she felt and that in itself was enough to make him happy.

"I know it's asking a lot…" she began but he silenced her with a finger on her lips.

"S'not a lot to ask for, luv. To wait, I mean. I've waited for so long to hear you say it, I think I can wait another few hours." He smirked at her in an attempt to hide the overwhelming emotion coiled within him. "Course, with me being so insecure, you may have to repeat it, ad nauseum."

Buffy laughed, playfully swatting him on the arm before her eyes turned serious. "Believe me, Spike, I will say it as many times as I need to for you to understand that I'm not gonna leave you. Now c'mon, before we can't think straight and get down and dirty in this alley."

"I wouldn’t complain," he joked before being dragged back into the store.

As they walked into the main room, hand in hand, both were beaming from their last few minutes alone. Buffy had been astonished at how easy the words had come. In fact, it had been harder not to tell him that she loved him than anything else. She had thought that he would have pressed her more, knowing that the words were on the tip of her tongue but he had understood, like he always did. For the countless time that day, Buffy wondered what she had done to deserve this. She had wanted to ask him if he thought that his demon was as in love with her as the man was. She thought back to the whole memory loss snafu. After they had regained their memories, she had stared into his golden eyes as he extended a hand to help her up. What she saw there frightened her more than anything he had ever said or done. She could be honest with herself now and admit that even the demon, as much as it hated the idea, loved her just as much as the man. And it, just like Spike, would love her unconditionally until the end of time. She could be herself and not worry about him leaving--that was something he, nor the demon, would ever do.

Buffy stole a glance at him as they reached the table. Here was a man that would always have her back, no matter the circumstance. He would never let her fall and if, by chance, she did, he would hoist her back to her feet. Though she would never trade the times she spent with Angel and Riley, she was thankful to have reached a new plateau self-discovery with Spike by her side.

Spike would be there, come hell-god or apocalyptic nightmare, and for that she was thankful. She had the love of a soulless vampire and she loved him back. Sure, the others would object to it, call her crazy and she would be inclined to agree with that assessment.

She was crazy, all right. Crazy in love with William the Bloody and she couldn’t be happier.

Chapter 9

The constant bass from the sound system and the incessant buzzing of the multitude of voices was enough to drive anyone insane. Couple that with the inebriated patrons who continued to stare at his companion and Seth was not in the most agreeable of moods. Rolling his eyes, Seth downed another shot of Whiskey, welcoming the light burn that flamed in the back of his throat. He sighed, the liquor the only thing that could cool his raging thoughts. In about an hour from now, all these people would either be dead or incapacitated, their life forces necessary for the Enjoining of Dawn and Jennifer. Of course, the ritual also required the presence of the four closest to Dawn in order to break down the Key's mental barriers although he wasn't too clear on whether or not they would die. But did it really matter if any of them died? Seth raked his hand through his unruly locks, ignoring the answer to that because if he didn’t, if he really said that it didn’t matter if the other slayer and her friends died, then he would also have to face the fact that someone would indeed die. Someone that did matter. And that was the last thing he needed to think about.

"Something's troubling you, Lover," the dulcet voice of Jennifer whispered in his ear. Despite his mood, he couldn’t help but smile at the wisp of her fragrance that permeated his nostrils as her hair brushed against his cheek. This close to her, where her warm breath trailed across his cool flesh and her arousal was as blatant as a sunrise he could almost forget his troubles. He could almost forget that the essence of the only woman he had ever loved would be destroyed forever. He could almost forget that the beauty of that essence would be replaced by a cold, sadistic Evil unlike any other. He could almost forget that a part of him relished in taking the life of an innocent, no matter what she had meant to him before--she would be replaced by someone more suited to his appetite for blood and he would never worry about her being corrupted. The latter thought brought a smile to his face as, for one moment, he almost believed it.

"Almost ain't good enough," he muttered to himself and took a swig from the bottle before turning he gaze towards Jennifer. "I'm fine, baby," he reassured before kissing her lightly on the lips.

Jennifer smiled as her tongue dipped out to brush against his lips and elicited a feral growl from his chest. Even though they broke the kiss, part of her was content with the near hypnotic effect that she had on him though another part of her was more than disconcerted by the fact that she did not have him anymore. At least not all of him--not yet at least, she reminded herself. His obvious wavering unsettled her but she had no doubts that once the Enjoining was complete, he would be hers wholly and completely. Even if that's only because you wear the flesh of the girl? The woman in her questioned.

Doesn’t matter, her true Essence countered, all that matters is what happens in the end. She leaned back, content that the argument had been won. She had been chained to this mortal coil for over a year, prepping for this ritual and had grown accustomed to the internal battle between her mortal thoughts against the Essence of her true self. In this particular case, her womanliness was more than off put by Seth's attraction to the girl, as if she was what Jennifer could never be. Jennifer noticed that his eyes didn’t shine quite as brightly when he looked at her though she could still sense his desire like the morning dawn. No, she wouldn’t worry about it at all because, in an hour there wouldn’t be any 'Dawn' left for him to pine for.

***

Faith couldn’t help but smile as she walked through the doors of the Bronze. The place was littered with people dancing and talking--generally, having a good time. It had been so long since she had had a chance to relax that even the simple experience of being around people doing just that was enough to calm her.

A sly grin crossed her face as she felt several pairs of eyes rake across her petite form. Guess you were right, Dad, she mused, thinking about Spike's less than friendly attitude when she had come down wearing one of Buffy's outfits. Of course, he was the only one that threw a hissy fit. Buffy just smiled at her, deciding to wear something similar to what Faith had chosen.

Leaning against the wall with her arms crossed, Faith was not lost on the way the black stretch pants clung to her hips--hips that were a bit more pronounced than her mothers. A purple tank to that exposed her pierced navel hugged her chest and anyone close enough to her would see that no bra had been required to support her pert breasts. She was thankful to the darkness of the club as it hid the scars that peered out from her arms and midriff. Even the jagged line that marred her face seemed like nothing more than a slight discoloration, though her slightly damp hair covered part of the scar admirably. She was also decked in the faintest amount of makeup, though lip-gloss was substituted for lipstick. Even the purple and white sneakers she had borrowed from Buffy that were visible beneath the flair of her pants made her look the part of a young woman out for some fun.

Of course, there was also the dangerous glint in her twice-colored eyes that spoke volumes about her objective.

Wasting no more times, the blond sauntered--something she had inherited from a certain vampire--over to the steps and climbed them. She was thankful that the scaffolding was sparsely populated, a few couples here and there necking in the shadows, oblivious to the world around them. She leaned against the railing, the metal indenting her forearms, reminding the slayer that there was business to be taken care of.

Her eyes scanned the crowd relentlessly, searching for Seth. She knew he was here. She had felt his presence like a shroud when she first walked in though her reaction even surprised her. Though a part of her was still afraid of him, she knew she wouldn’t have to face him alone, that she had family in her corner and it gave her more confidence in herself than she ever had. She could feel the sharp edge of that confidence chipping away at her self-imposed borders, exposing Faith to a power she never knew she had possessed.

Her thoughts were short-lived as the sliver of fear that remained burned at the base of her spine. Her eyes darted back and forth until her gaze met the unnatural blue tint of Seth's. Her heart stopped for several seconds, her breath caught in her chest as the familiar panic washed over her. She was not a slayer now, but a little girl, lost and afraid, as the predatory smile of Seth raked across her curves--much like his hands and teeth had done for nine months.

Her confidence all but gone, Faith wanted nothing more than to curl up into a dark corner and hide. But as much as she wanted to do that, she knew she couldn’t. Even if her fear hadn't rooted her to the spot, Faith knew that she had a job to do. And if she had to confront her worst fear to complete it, then so be it.

You're not alone, Bitlet, she felt rather than heard a voice whisper into her mind. The assurance in the voice was enough to return her bodily functions to normality and the fear that had been etched into her face melted away, replaced by confidence. Her eyes didn’t even have to see him to know that he was here. Her protector and hero, he would never let anything happen to her. She could feel his cerulean eyes on her, washing away her doubts and reassuring her that he had her back. She almost laughed aloud at the puzzled features of Seth when he saw her lips curl into a smile. But the smile was short-lived as her gaze turned deadly and, with a purposeful slowness; she drew her thumb across the front of her neck, a gesture that was not lost on Seth. Faith was ready and she saw the slight flicker of doubt in his eyes before he smiled warily and gave her a slight nod.

The battle was nigh and they both knew that one of them would not see the end of it.

***

Spike sensed the power in the club the moment he stepped foot into it. Though he didn’t know what the vampire looked like, the power that emanated from him was enough the have William the Bloody worried. Of course, that power was currently second fiddle to the evil that pulled at his demon, whispering promises of lovely death and delicious blood if he just gave into the lust.

But as seductive as the voice was, the fear of another called to him, desperate for comfort. Spike peered out of the shadows, his eyes drifting up to the scaffolding. There she was--his girl, Faith. His smile faltered when he saw the frightened glaze of her eyes. The anger for whoever was responsible for her terror simmered within him and his mind pictured the scars that lined her flesh--the scars that this Seth had put there. He immediately knew that she had spotted the vampire and was no doubt replaying the hell she had gone through at Seth's hands. Spike resisted the unnatural urge to tear through the crowd and rip the vamp's head from his shoulders, sod the prophecies. But he forced his demon down before it surfaced more fully and concentrated his thoughts on Faith. If he couldn’t act on his impulses, the least he could do was give her the assurance that he had her back.

You're not alone, Bitlet, he thought and was pleasantly surprised when she smiled warmly, though her eyes never wavered from her target. It was her way of saying 'thank you' without alerting Seth and his companion of Spike's presence. When her thumb made a slashing gesture across her throat, Spike shivered in delight. She had just set down the gauntlet for Seth, that one of them wouldn't be alive once the night was over.

Spike was going to do everything in his power to ensure that Seth was the unlucky candidate.

***

Call it blind luck or her honed slayer senses, but Buffy spotted Seth moments after she had entered the Bronze. She could feel the power radiating from him and it was like nothing she had ever felt save for her confrontation with Glory. But her thoughts of his power dissipated when she got a good look at his face. The bleached blond hair, the slightly angled cheekbones, and not to mention blue eyes--he looked like Spike. Except…except there was an artificiality about his eyes, something that she couldn't quite get a handle on.

"Doesn’t matter," she said to herself, "he's dust before this night is over." The blond lost herself in the crowd, her wardrobe her typical Bronze-wear; leather pants that hung low on her hips, a sleeveless blouse that was covered by a light black leather jacket. And, of course, there were her 'stylish yet affordable boots', comfortable for dancing and nights of slayage alike.

Glancing at the watch Spike had insisted she wear, Buffy noted that Willow and Tara would be making their entrance anytime now. She had left them outside while they, along with the others, were positioning the supplies for the barrier spell around the Bronze. Since it was a one way spell, allowing exit but not entrance, it called for a different approach than the spell Willow had done when they were running from the Knights of Byzantium.

Shaking her thoughts back into the present, Buffy caught sight of Faith above the dance floor, on the scaffolding, her eyes blazing with a supernatural intensity at the vampire and his companion who Buffy still couldn’t see clearly, though the deep raven hair was familiar. Her eyes moved to the exit where Spike leaned casually against the wall, an unlit cigarette hanging loosely from his lips. She couldn’t help but smile at the way his hair curled loosely against his scalp or the way his thumbs cuffed easily into the belt buckles of his jeans. He looked so boyish and cute, though she could discern the pronounced jut of his jaws and hard set of his eyes. He was ready for battle, that much was clear and seeing him like that made Buffy want nothing more than to be by his side, ready to dance.

A sharp tingle at the base of her spine alerted the blond slayer that the first part of the spell had been completed. Wills and Tara should be walking in any minute…her eyes drifted towards the door where the two Wiccas heads were visible through the crowd. Buffy smiled, "Right on time," she whispered but her smile disintegrated when her eyes fell on the table that housed the vampire Seth.

The face that looked at her was extremely familiar though the obsidian eyes were not. They glistened with an evil that Buffy had never seen and she cringed when the beautiful lips of the woman turned into a smirk. Buffy's mouth hung open; her hazel eyes wide and glistened with unshed tears. Finally, she caught her breath enough for two words to fall from her lips.

"Ms. Calendar?"

***

Tara and Willow hadn't been in the Bronze sixty seconds before the former sensed her lover's body stiffen next to her.

"Baby?" the soft-spoken witch said, her hand rubbing Willow's back soothingly. A tear escaped from Willow's green eyes and Tara moved in front of her, taking Willow's shoulders firmly in her hands.

"Willow," Tara said and jumped at her own forcefulness. She sighed inwardly when Willow finally turned towards her; her eyes teary yet focused.

"What's wrong baby?" the sandy blond asked.

"My former computer teacher--Ms. Calendar--she's at the table with the vampire that looks like Spike." On Tara's blank look, Willow clarifies. "Angel killed her when he was, uh, Angelus. What is going on here?"

"We can't worry about that now, sweetie. We have to finish the rest of the spell," Tara looked over her shoulder, "here comes Giles now. Once we finish it and get everyone out of here, then we can worry about that."

Willow smiled at the burgeoning strength emitted from her usually shy girlfriend before simultaneously turning towards a shocked Giles.

"Jenny?" he whispered before being led into a corner by a sympathetic Willow and resolute Tara.

***

Spike glanced at the door, noticing the bulbous head of the whelp bob through the crowd as he talked in hushed tones to several of the people at the bar. The vampire saw a flash of gold as Harris showed the bartender something and several people hurried toward the exits.

"Pretty smart, Harris," he quipped after realizing that Xander was displaying a fake badge. His eyes searched for Buffy again. He had seen her not ten minutes before and offered her a wolfish grin. He caught her in the shadows, on the other side of bar, her eyes fixed on the two at the table. His eyes caught hers and she nodded almost imperceptibly. It was almost time to make a move. He glanced at his watch. Twenty till midnight. Seth and his consort would be making their move soon.

He watched as Anya ushered more patrons to the exit. Good. The less people here, the easier time he would have kicking some ass without having to worry about catching a stray clubber and having to deal with the subsequent migraine.

Rolling his neck to the side, Spike welcomed the pop of bones. He couldn’t hide the sadistic smile that carved his features as his eyes trained on the back of Seth's head. It was almost time to dance…

***

"Looks like all of our guests have arrived," Jennifer cooed into the ear of her vampire lover. He smiled at her, before knocking back another shot of Whiskey. Both had been aware of the mounting party that had filtered into the Bronze in the past twenty minutes, though they were unconcerned. Jennifer had let her slight surprise at the power that radiated from the witches for a brief moment before dismissing it. They were no match for Seth and his little demon hoard. He'd hold them off long enough for her and Rack to perform the Enjoining and then, after they were of no further use, he could do with them as he wished.

"Let's get this show on the road," he drawled before standing and stretching his limbs. He had been responsible for the deaths of thousands of humans and demons alike, some of those demons almost as powerful as he was. But none ever lasted long for they had nothing to fight for. No, they had their lives to fight for, but nothing to fight with. Even if these people that were here tonight didn’t have the strength of two slayers and a master vampire at their sides, not to mention two extremely powerful Wiccas, they would still offer a challenge more than any demon he had ever fought. It was not their physical prowess or magical abilities that gave them strength but their heart. The fact that they fought, not for themselves, but those who would never know their sacrifices, would never appreciate what they were willing to give up.

Seth smiled as the power coursed through his veins. Though he knew he couldn’t die, if he was fated to do so, he would be honored if it were at the hands of these people. Whatever the outcome, this was indeed going to be an unforgettable night.

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