He couldn't go home; there was a box of Havi's stuff sitting right in the middle of his floor, and the last thing Xander wanted right now was to be faced with any kind of reminder of what had happened that morning. He needed distraction, something to take his mind off the ache of her betrayal. When he tried Oz's place, however, there wasn't an answer. Willow's came up with nothing as well. According to her mom and that touch of condescension in her voice that she was so good at, Willow was with Oz. That left Buffy and Spike, the first of which was at the doctor's and the latter, again, most likely with Oz.

Xander was on his own.

He scanned the schedule at the movie theater, but nothing escapist enough caught his eye. A ramble around the mall proved just as fruitless, and he returned to his car with jittery nerves and a stomach that refused to settle. Sitting in his car, he stared through the windshield, his fingers drumming along the steering wheel while he debated what to try next. Sunnydale was pretty lacking when it came to solitary entertainment, and over the past few months he'd grown accustomed to having Havi at his side.

He rested his brow against the steering wheel, his eyes closed. He still couldn't believe she wouldn't even make this one concession for the sake of their relationship. It was Buffy hiding Angel all over again, but he had a feeling that if he brought it up with the gang, their reactions wouldn't be as clear-cut as they'd been with Buffy's intervention. For the most part, Havi had their sympathies now. He would probably end up getting lectured on not giving her a chance. Except by Spike. And how much did it suck that his least favorite member of the gang was the one most likely to be on his side?

He needed to do something. Sitting in the mall's parking lot wasn't doing anything but making him think too much, and everybody knew thinking and Xander Harris were mutually exclusive. His gaze fell on the bag of weapons that was tossed on the passenger side floor. It was too early for patrolling, and besides, fighting to forget was more Buffy's style than his. The notion that he could go to the hospital and beat the crap out of Baltozar made him smile for a moment, but he quickly dismissed it. Not only would the hospital staff probably have something to say about it, but fighting a guy in a coma was just sad, even by Xander's standards.

Starting the engine, he pulled out of the parking lot, turning on the radio as loud as his ears could handle it. Driving was something. It wasn't the best something, but it was better than nothing. Maybe he'd be inspired to do something better along the way to wherever it was he wasn't really going.

*************

Seeing the car already parked in the drive when he pulled in, Spike didn't even wait for Willow and Oz as he grabbed his blanket and made a dash for the front door of the Summers' house.

"I really hope Buffy has good news for him," Willow said, climbing out of the back seat. "Spike's going to spontaneously combust if this baby doesn't show up soon."

"I guess it's a good thing he's got the blanket, then." Oz slipped his hand into hers, giving it a little squeeze as they headed up to the porch. "You're not still mad about the plan, are you?"

It took the time to climb the stairs before she shook her head. "It's not that I was ever mad," she said. "It's just that...well, you know how Spike's always trying to find a back way of doing stuff? Lately, it seems like you've been...encouraging that. I mean, don't get me wrong. I'm glad you two have gotten to be friends, but I kind of hoped that you'd be the good influence rubbing off on him instead of him rubbing on you." She paused, her nose wrinkling. "That sounded way less dirty in my head."

Oz pulled her to a gentle stop before she could open the door. "I'm not saying Spike's always right," he said. "But a lot of times, he's got a point."

"But..." She struggled to find an argument that would work, but could only come up with... "What about Buffy?"

"She's got enough to be worrying about, don't you think?"

Though she knew there was a flaw to his logic somewhere, Willow couldn't find it. Her shoulders slumped, and she gave him a half-smile. "I'm reserving the right to be the first person to say I told you so," she warned as he pulled her inside.

They both came to an abrupt halt at the sight of Joyce hovering just inside the door. A frown creased her brow.

"What's wrong?" Willow asked immediately. "Is it Buffy?"

"It's not Buffy," Joyce said, and then amended, "Well, not entirely, but Spike's taking care of her." She nodded toward the stairs. "Something's wrong with Havi, but I can't get her to come out of her room to talk about it. Do you think you could go up and see what you can find out?"

Willow bit her lip, her eyes darting to the upper floor before she gave her assent. "Did you try calling Xander?" she asked. "If something's wrong, he's going to want to know about it."

"I tried, but his mother said he left this morning and hasn't come back," Joyce replied. "I left a message for him to call here when he gets in."

"Go," Oz said. "I'll just wait down here."

Willow climbed the stairs, listening for any telltale signs that would indicate what might be wrong. There was no sobbing, no smashing furniture. There was just an eerie quiet that left her wishing Xander was around to help with whatever was wrong.

Her first knock at the closed door was met with silence. After waiting a minute, Willow called out, "Havi? Are you in there?"

She almost missed the soft sniffle, and when the door finally slipped open, her eyes widened at the obvious tears that had streaked down Havi's face. "Are you OK?" she blurted. "What happened?"

Havi opened her mouth to speak, but the breath caught in her throat and she ended up just shaking her head. "It's not important."

"It was important enough to make you cry."

Havi pulled herself up straighter, her mouth setting in a firm line. "I'm fine. Please do not worry about me."

She didn't believe her. "Maybe I should just go try and find Xander myself---."

"No." Willow was surprised by Havi's sudden grip around her arm, stopping her from walking away, and both women looked down at her curled fingers. Slowly, she let Willow go, but when their eyes met again, Havi's were pleading. "He will not come," she said in explanation. "He's...angry with me."

Some of the anxiety inside Willow eased. "First big fight, huh?" she said, her tone gentler. "Those suck."

"I think...it may be our last, as well."

"Everybody thinks that. Just give him time. He'll come around."

The doubt in Havi's eyes revealed more than her ensuing silence. Willow had been surprised at the relationship that had sprung up between the Protector and her best friend, but she'd seen firsthand how good they were for each other. Xander drew Havi out, revealing a dry sense of humor behind the stern façade, and gave her a haven just to be a girl. On the other hand, Havi gave Xander stability, a focus of good that balanced his own. Though Spike might doubt Havi's intentions, Willow didn't. She could see the power that surrounded her. It wasn't the same as Buffy's, but it had its own purity that made it impossible not to believe in Havi. It was one reason why Willow was even considering the Guardian proposal.

"You know," she said, contemplatively, "maybe if you talked about what happened---."

Havi shook her head. "I don't wish to discuss this," she said. "There is no point."

"The point is, it'll make you feel better. I'm not exactly all-knowing when it comes to relationships, but I get straight A's in listening." When Havi continued to appear doubtful, Willow added, "You can tell me on the way to the Guardians. It'll help kill the time. You said it was a long walk, right?"

Mention of the Guardians made Havi's eyes widen. "You've chosen?" she asked, almost eagerly.

"No, I'm making a deal with you. I'll go and hear what they have to say, if you tell me what happened between you and Xander. And don't tell me it's silly to talk about it, because I know silly on a first name basis and that isn't it."

Havi paused, considering the offer. "Buffy will not be pleased we're going without her," she said.

"Buffy's in no shape to be doing the hike anyway," Willow countered. The irony of her argument flashed through her mind, but she quickly dismissed the similarity to Spike's earlier dispute. This was totally different. This wasn't about Buffy in the first place, so there was no harm to be had.

"All right." The agreement came quietly, almost a whisper. "But we should go now, to take advantage of the daylight for as long as possible."

Willow nodded. "I'll just go tell Oz we're going for girl time," she said, turning on her heel to head back downstairs.

"You don't wish to tell him where we're going?"

"And start a fight when Spike and his scary vampire ears overhear me? No, thanks." She shot Havi a quick grin. "Besides, you said there isn't any danger, right?"

"That is correct."

"Then there's no problem. I'll meet you out front."

As she descended the stairs, Willow shoved aside the niggle of doubt that had suddenly popped up in the back of her brain. She trusted Havi. This was for the good. And she was only going to talk, so no bad could come of that. If worse came to worse, she always had her magic.

*************

She was sitting on his bed when Spike came down the basement stairs, her pregnancy journal in her lap as she scribbled away at it. His throat tightened when she lifted his eyes to meet his, and he had to fight not to crush her to his chest as he sat down next to her.

"You want to talk about it?" he asked gently.

Putting the lid on her pen, Buffy set aside her notebook so that she could curl into his side, their backs against the wall. "What did Mom tell you?" Her voice was soft and aching. It was almost worse than if he'd walked in and seen her crying.

"Just that I needed to come down here," Spike replied. He rested his hand along the soft swell of her stomach, while he buried his nose in her hair. Fear made his gut clench, but the twin echoes of Buffy's and the baby's heartbeats did miracles in helping him ignore it. "Tell me what the doc said."

"I have to go back in next week," she said. "They'll have all my bloodwork back by then, and hopefully that will give them some answers they don't have right now."

"Answers 'bout what?"

He phrased the query carefully, not wishing to upset her, but Buffy surprised him by bolting upright and staring into his eyes.

"Did you know?" she demanded. "Did you...hear something, or smell something, or do something vampy that made you worry even more about Schmoo? Is that why you wanted me to go to the doctor's?"

Her rising anxiety was elevating her pulse, but when Spike tried to reach for her to try and soothe her with his touch, she pulled away.

"Tell me," she said, and her voice was harder than it had been when he'd first come down. "I know something's up, Spike. Don't try and hide it from me. This isn't just about us or William's ideas of chivalry any more. This is about Schmoo, and I won't let you put this baby in danger by holding back on me."

"It was just the vision," he insisted. There was no way in hell he was going to tell her about Red's protection spell; in Buffy's agitated state, it would only make the situation worse. "Angel was so sure something was wrong with you, yeah? I wouldn't tell him this to his face, but he had a bloody good reason to be. According to Rupert, Angel uses those visions to fulfill his soddin' mission, whatever the hell that is, so if that old mate of yours said you were in danger, yeah, I got a bit worried. Now. What did the doctor say, Buffy? Is something wrong with the little one?"

She watched him for a long moment, her features tight and pinched. The added weight from the pregnancy had softened her body in many places, but when Buffy got upset, she still managed to look like one of those starving children out in Africa, all big eyes and hollow cheeks. It ripped him apart to see it. It always meant that Buffy was hurting in some way.

When she sagged, he was right there to take her back in his arms, letting her bury her face in his shirt. He listened to her deep inhalations, felt the calming of her pulse, and when she finally spoke, the anger in her voice was gone.

"He doesn't know," she said quietly. "He kept saying he didn't think there was anything to worry about, but he couldn't give us an explanation for what he saw. That's why he did all the tests, but Schmoo's heart sounded normal, he said."

Spike could've told her that, but he knew she needed to hear it from the doctor in order to believe it. "What did he see?" he asked. "Was it on the ultrasound?"

"Yeah. It was...a shadow. Kind of. He thought it was the amniotic fluid at first, but whenever Schmoo moved, it did, too. They even moved me to a different room because they thought it might be the equipment, but it did the exact same thing there."

"Where is it?" Silently, he prayed that it wasn't on the baby's brain. He knew that wouldn't be good.

"That's the weird thing. It's kind of all over. Like...a shroud, is what the doctor said. But we could see through it, and nothing came back on the ultrasound that would make him think there was actually anything there. That's why he called it a shadow. There, but...not."

Buffy and her doctor might not know what was wrapping around the little one, but Spike had a strong suspicion. He was going to have to talk to Willow about the spell. As much as he hated seeing Buffy this worried, Spike knew this would scare her into being more careful so the spell would likely be redundant anyway. Better to get it off and remove the evidence of the magical tampering, alleviate Buffy's worry before it got any worse.

He didn't say a word about that, though. He just pulled her closer against his chest and rested his cheek on the top of her head, listening to the echoing rhythms of hers and the little one's bodies. "Whatever it is," he said, "we'll get through it, just like we always do. You think this baby's goin' to give up without a fight? Can't. It's impossible. Look at its genes, luv. Look at what we've done just to get to this point. There's no way the little one's goin' to get beat by something that isn't even real."

Though Buffy stayed silent, the way she wrapped her arms tighter around his back told Spike all he needed to know. He'd have to tell Oz and Willow to take off; he wasn't going anywhere today. He'd find a way later to talk to Red about the spell. Right now, his Slayer needed him to hold her, to comfort her, to assure her that she was loved and that all would be right with the world.

That was something even William had always excelled at.

*************

Willow had known that Havi was in great shape just from watching her fight when they were on patrol. But watching her and trying to keep up with her were two entirely different things.

Sweat dripped down Willow's back, tickling her spine. It made her bangs stick to her forehead in uncomfortable patches, forcing her to blow upward to try and dislodge them, and it was starting to make her really, really, really wish she hadn't agreed to this little excursion.

She'd gotten the story of what had happened with Xander early on in the trip; being a woman of few words meant Havi knew how to tell a tale as quickly as possible. Frankly, Willow didn't see what the big deal was, but she also knew how strongly Xander had reacted to discovering Buffy's betrayal the year before in hiding Angel from all of them. It made him paranoid about secrets, about violent exes who could come back and kill anybody Xander cared about without breaking a sweat. Knowing that Havi had continued to check in on Baltozar's status, regardless of the fact that he was in a coma, had to have broken Xander's heart.

Her assurances that he'd come around had fallen on deaf ears, but when Willow had heard what Havi hadn't said, what she could've done to keep him from running out, she fell mute. That part, she didn't understand. If it was her, she would've been trying to explain six ways to Sunday, and in fact, had done just that when she and Oz had had their brief break-up over the Factory debacle. But Havi was a different kind of woman entirely. She was used to keeping secrets, and though Willow knew that those secrets weren't bad ones, Xander wasn't privy to that kind of insight. He would see her actions and take them at face value. That was just what he did.

Willow almost bumped into her when she suddenly stopped. "We are here," Havi said. She looked like she hadn't even broken a sweat. "Now, comes the hard part of our journey."

"The hard part?" Willow exclaimed. She pushed back the sweat-drenched hair off her face. "Are you kidding?"

They were standing deep in one of the woods on the edge of town, the canopy of trees blocking out almost all the ambient light. The ground was unbroken by much vegetation, but when Willow looked down, she saw the loose dirt falling into a chasm, black and foreboding even in the day. Havi stood at the edge of it, pulling out rappelling gear from her backpack.

"We must go down," she explained. "The well is in a cavern beneath the forest."

"How down is down?"

"In your measurements, about twenty yards. It isn't far."

"It is if you've never done anything like this before." Carefully, Willow inched forward, but she stopped well away, stretching her neck to try and peer down into the hole. "I couldn't even climb the rope in gym class, and you expect me to do this? You should've said something."

Havi frowned. "But I did."

"You said a little climb. This is Mt. Everest. Except, you know, down."

"You will be safe. I'll help you."

"No, I'm going to be safe because I'm not going to do it."

They stared at each other, each sure of her right in this. "Was this a ploy?" Havi finally asked. "To get me to talk?"

She faltered. "Well, no, but---."

"I would not allow harm to befall you, Willow. My duty is to protect you. If you are willing to believe me about the Guardians, why are you not willing to believe me about this?"

It was a logical argument. Fear, however, was never logical.

"I will go down first," Havi continued when Willow stayed silent. "If for some reason you slip, I will be there to stop you from falling."

"You mean you'll be the body I land on instead of my butt," Willow said. Then, an idea suggested itself. "What about magic? Can I just zap us down there instead of climbing?"

"I didn't think you were capable of teleportation," came the wary response.

"I just haven't tried it yet." She liked this idea much better than the climbing, and her enthusiasm began to bubble back to the surface. "If I concentrate, I can do a lot of spells without too much effort. As long as there's not something about these sacred grounds that means I can't use magic, I think I can do this."

She had her eyes closed before Havi could respond, stretching her senses to try and get a grasp on the energies near the chasm. Something warm and welcoming reached out to her, flooding her head with images too rapid to acknowledge, suffusing her body with growing heat, until she could feel every hair on the back of her neck standing up on end.

"Willow?" she heard Havi question, worry in her voice.

But when she tried to answer, she discovered she couldn't, her will no longer her own, her powers swelling beyond the boundaries of her control as if they were skidding toward a destination she couldn't even see.

Then, everything went black.

*************

She woke with a splitting headache and the slight trickle of blood coming from her nose. Trying to stifle the flow, Willow winced as she sat up, the silver and lavender that seemed to surround her dancing and rippling in eddies that made her sick to her stomach. I hope I'm not dead, she thought, blinking to try and focus her eyes. Because being nauseous for all of eternity would really suck.

"You're not dead."

The soft chiming voice seemed to come from everywhere, above her head, below her bottom, emanating from the walls. As her sight sharpened, she could see she was in a circular room, a stone pool taking up most of the space right in the middle. The light came from the water that was fluttering within the pool, and Willow edged closer to see if she could get a better look.

Her reflection was distorted by the strength of the waves. Almost hypnotically, they lapped against the stone, and it took only a moment for her to detect the pattern within its rhythms. A slow smile spread across her face, in spite of the ache inside her, as she fell under the spell of the tempo.

"You can feel it, can't you?" the voice asked. "It's because we're a part of you."

"You're the Guardians," Willow murmured. Almost against her will, her hand rose and skimmed across the surface of the water. Where the water touched her fingertips, sparks jumped, spraying and dancing across the pool so that it shimmered.

"Whoa..." she breathed.

"We have been waiting for you," the voice said. "Though we thought you would come sooner."

She flushed in embarrassment at the chastising undercurrent in its choice of words. "I only just found out about you," she said. "My friends got a little overprotective and Havi didn't tell me about you until just a few days ago."

"Ah..." It was a soft sigh, making the walls pulse around her. "Your friends are both your greatest weakness and your largest treasure. We expected no less."

The pause that followed was filled with the sounds of the moving water, lulling Willow even further into a sense of calm. Though she couldn't see herself in the water, if she looked beneath the waves, she almost imagined she could make out the pale lines of an elderly woman. It could've been Rose.

She paused, looking deeper.

It could've been Esme.

"There is no reason for you to be frightened," the voice said. "She is not one of us."

"I didn't---." It dawned on her then that it was the second of her thoughts she hadn't voiced out loud. "Am I wasting my breath by bothering to speak?" she asked tentatively.

"No. On this ground, the force of your power gives life to your emotions, to your will. We can sense those as easily as your words."

"So...you know about Esme?"

"We know about all of it. But it's not as you think. Rose saw her death. She saw the hole her absence would leave with us, and so she did what she felt was best."

There was a pause then. An obvious hesitation. Willow sat back on her heels, withdrawing her hand from the water so that the cascade of sparks faded away.

"There's more, isn't there?" she asked. "Stuff Havi didn't tell me."

"There is always more."

"Isn't that why I'm here then? To get my questions answered?"

"Is that what you wish? Is it not enough that Rose chose you to replace her?"

Willow froze, her eyes widening. "She...what?"

To be continued in Chapter 42: Steal Men's Eyes...

He caught himself brooding on Havi more than once. I'm not Angel, I'm not Angel, I'm not Angel, Xander chanted silently. I don't brood. His knuckles were white where he gripped the steering wheel, his jaw clenched from the efforts of trying not to think about her too much. The sheer determination to divert his thoughts away from her, however, was actually cementing her place in his head, no matter how much he tried otherwise. It was frustrating as hell.

So caught up with his own drama, he almost missed the flurry of activity at the side of the road. He was on the edge of town, wandering aimlessly through the perimeter roads that separated Sunnydale from the surrounding deserts. At one point, he'd debated getting out and taking a walk through the forest for a change of scenery, but sundown's impending approach made him realize what a stupid idea that was. He was depressed, not suicidal.

But a glint off something metal caught his eye as he drove along, and Xander slowed the car down to try and see what it was. His eyes widened when he saw the vigilante guy drag the unconscious body of a horned demon into the bushes, and his brows nearly disappeared into his hair when he realized the guy in black was Graham Miller. Nobody had seen Graham since he'd disappeared from Giles' apartment. This was huge.

He passed the bushes and rounded a bend in the road before pulling his car over to the side. There wasn't time to get the rest of the gang, but if he could follow Graham and see where he went to, Xander figured they could always go after him later. Maybe the day wasn't completely shot after all.

Grabbing a stake from his weapons bag, Xander got out of the car and headed back to where he'd seen Graham vanish. He stepped as quietly as he could, but the dry brush crackled beneath his feet, and he paused more than once when he thought he could've been heard. Only when he was sure that he was still safe did he continue, but it took longer than he'd hoped to reach the spot in the bushes.

Something clear and sticky was smeared along the ground, leading through the crushed foliage and deeper into the woods. Carefully, Xander walked along its edge, his gaze jumping around for any other signs of movement. He didn't see the dried branch until it snapped in half beneath his toe, and he froze as the sound echoed through the trees.

A growl came from his left, making the hair stand up on the back of Xander's neck. "Please be a rabid dog, please be a rabid dog," he whispered as he slowly shifted to look at the new arrival.

It was much larger than a dog. Standing nearly a foot taller than Xander, the demon was covered in iridescent blue scales, a row of spiky horns over its heavy brow. Instead of two eyes, however, it had four, all blinking at him simultaneously as drool dripped from its fanged mouth. The growl coming from its throat was so powerful that he could see the creature's chest vibrating from the force of it.

"Looking for your friend?" Xander asked with a quick smile. He pointed deeper into the forest. "He went thataway."

The demon didn't move, but the razor-sharp claws it sported for hands clenched into fists. Clear liquid oozed from between its so-called fingers.

"Obviously, what we have here is a failure to communicate," Xander went on. His heart was pounding in his chest; he really hoped this particular species couldn't pick up on that kind of thing. "So, I'm just going to go with the international symbol for 'I'm a big chicken' and run like hell, OK?"

He'd already started to back away as he spoke, but the same stick he'd stepped on the first time rolled beneath his heel, making him lose his balance and fall backwards onto his ass. The demon charged at the same time, the growl erupting into a roar, and Xander screamed in fear as he tried to scramble out of its way.

A brilliant flash exploded in the corner of his eye. Just a few feet away from him, the demon's chest burst open from the artillery that slammed into it, drenching Xander in the clear fluid that he'd seen on the bush. Instinctively, he reached up to try and wipe the liquid away, but it was already stinging where it had landed in his eyes.

"We've got a civilian down," someone said.

A man in black fatigues appeared at Xander's side. "The HST's blood is all over him," the man said to someone still behind Xander. "What do we do?"

"He's going to need medical attention." That one was Graham. Even as little as he'd spoken when he'd been chained up in Giles' tub, Xander would've recognized the voice anywhere. "The blood is toxic."

"Toxic?" Xander struggled to sit up, but his slick hands couldn't get a grip on the ground. His vision was getting blurry, but he could still see well enough when Graham stepped in front of him. "Is this your idea of payback?" he demanded. "Splatter me with evil demon goo so that I can't run and get help? What demons are you taking in this time?"

There were now three of them, but the others were looking at Graham in confusion. "What's he talking about?" the first one asked. "Do you know this guy?"

Graham's eyes bored into Xander's. "Never seen him before," he said tightly.

"He knows us, though," the second argued. "That makes him a threat."

Xander didn't like the turn this conversation was taking. "Hey, not a threat here," he said. He tried again to sit up, but his muscles seemed to have turned into jello. "I'm about as non-threatening as you get. Just ask my friends. Or my enemies. Not that I have a lot of enemies because you'd have to be threatening for that, which I'm not." When he realized he was babbling, he shook his head, letting it fall back onto the grass. "The hole I'm digging just keeps getting deeper, doesn't it?"

"We'll take him in," the first man said. "Dr. Walsh will know what to do with him."

Though the world seemed even fuzzier now, a renewed sense of fear gave Xander fresh strength. "I'm sure I can find the hospital all on my own---," he started to say, but the vigilante was already pressing a small weapon against his arm.

Everything went dark.

*************

Though the silver and lavender light was hypnotic, Willow was feeling anything but soothed. "What are you saying?" she asked. "What did Rose choose me for?"

"To be her replacement, of course." The voice almost sounded amused. "She was greatly impressed with your creativity in harnessing Esme's power. That was her first inkling that you could be molded to our purposes."

"No, no molding," she said quickly. She waggled a warning finger at the pool, though she knew how silly that had to look. "I'm not some lump of play-dough you can play with. And besides, Rose was the one who gave me Esme's magic. I didn't have anything to do with that."

"But you did. It was your original spell that caught her attention. It was quite ingenious."

"It...was?" In spite of her trepidation, being flattered for her expertise always managed to push Willow's buttons. She hated that they could manipulate her so easily, but at the same time, it was nice not to have somebody shouting at her for not knowing what she was doing.

"Of course. Your innate finesse was a wellspring just waiting to be tapped. Rose saw that. That's why she advocated your union with the Guardians. It's why she sent the Child of Life to watch over you, to guide you to us."

It was the first time she'd heard the term. "The Child of Life?" she asked. "Do you mean Havi?"

"Yes. She was selected to become a Protector when we learned she would not be Chosen. Her destiny is much more important now." The rippling water seemed to sigh. "These are not the questions you wish to ask, though," the voice said. "Don't be afraid, Willow. We have never wished to coerce you into a life that would make you unhappy, but at the same time, we hate seeing power such as yours wasted. Tell us what we may say in order to convince you to join us."

"I don't know," she admitted. "I mean...it's flattering that you want me and all. I guess I know how Buffy felt when she was Chosen, except, you know, this is for the magic set and not the slaying set."

"We are all on the same side," the voice said. "Guardians have been protecting the Slayers' interests for centuries. Becoming one of us is a natural extension of what you've been doing at the Slayer's side for years."

"So, I'd be protecting Buffy?"

"Well, no. Guardians are more invested in the Watchers' Council. We look over them and ensure that they do what they must. That was how you met Rose. She was sent back to alter the timeline because of what a Watcher had done."

Willow frowned. "No offense, but I'm really not interested in doing something as drastic as that. I kind of like my timeline the way it is."

The voice chuckled. "Rose's was an extreme case. It is only the third time in the history of the Guardians that we've been forced to take such a strong measure to rectify a wrong that was made against the Slayers. Our normal responsibilities are usually much more benign than that."

"Then why do you need the big mojo?"

"Because it's better to be over-prepared than under," came the reply. "Surely, that's a philosophy you understand?"

She did, but nothing they were saying was making her want to join up. She wasn't so sure what they really needed her for, and she said as such.

"Because our numbers are dwindling," the voice said. There was a touch of sadness beneath the sound of the waves. "Without fresh, strong blood, we will be extinct within a century. Who will watch over the Watchers then?"

It was a guilt trip, and Willow knew it. It didn't make it any less effective though. "Can't you expand your recruiting, though?" she asked. "There are covens all over the world. What's so special about me?"

"The type of power you possess has the ability to corrupt beyond even your experiences. Look at what happened with Esme. We cannot take the risk of bringing someone into the fold who cannot be trusted to follow our tenets."

"And you think I can?"

"We know you can."

Willow sighed. Her head was starting to ache from the possibilities bouncing around in it, and the effects of the teleportation spell she must've done were making her tired. "I can't give you an answer now," she said, rising to her wobbly feet. "I need time to process all this."

"We are patient. We will wait."

She got the feeling, though, that they wouldn't want to wait long. "Thanks," she said out loud, though she knew it was superfluous. "I guess I'll just be going then." She scanned the circular room, a frown wrinkling her brow. "As soon as you point out which way is the exit."

The water in the pool started to ease. "Good bye, Willow," the voice said, growing ever fainter. "And be well."

"But---."

The magic swelled around her, sweeping through just as it had outside. Before Willow could react, she was standing back at the edge of the chasm, staring at Havi outlined against the darkening sky.

"You saw them," Havi said without preamble.

"More like heard," Willow replied. She felt the faint trickle of blood touch her upper lip, and reached to wipe it away. "Do they actually have a physical form, or are they just playing shy?"

"They can manifest, yes," Havi said. "But they are scattered across the world. The well acts as a conduit for them to communicate." She grew hesitant. "Did you...reach a decision?"

"Yeah." Willow shot her a broad grin. "I've decided I could really use some ice cream therapy right about now. Let's go home."

*************

He only moved when he heard Red and Havi arrive back at the house.

Buffy had been asleep for well over an hour, curled on her side with her arm protective around her stomach. Because of the news at the doctor's, Joyce had allowed Spike to stay with Buffy without argument, knowing her daughter needed that more than anything else at the moment. Buffy hadn't actually said a word. She hadn't needed to. All that was necessary had already been said.

So it was with reluctance that Spike peeled himself away from her sleeping form, pressing tender lips to the bare skin of her midriff before slipping out of the room. He hated leaving her, hated the thought that she might wake up and not find him there even more, but this had to be done. He was going to have Willow take off that damn spell once and for all. Buffy didn't need to be worrying about something that wasn't even there.

He found her in the kitchen, standing at the island with Havi, hunched over a tub of chocolate ice cream. She looked pale and worn, and Spike could detect the slight scent of her blood, as if she'd cut herself while she was out. There were no blemishes on her exposed skin, though. Just a few grass stains and dirt smudges on her clothing.

"How's Buffy?" she asked as soon as she saw him.

"Asleep." He avoided looking at Havi as he stepped around to face Willow directly. "Joyce fill you in on what happened?"

Willow shook her head. "Just that there were some inconclusive anomalies on the ultrasound. She said it wasn't anything for us to worry about, that you were taking care of it."

"We're both takin' care of it. C'mon."

The moment his hand curled around Red's arm, Havi stepped forward.

"Where are you taking her?" she asked.

He had to bite the inside of his cheek not to lash out at her. "None of your business, Studs," Spike said tightly. "This is about Buffy and none of that Guardian shit you keep nattering on about."

"It's OK, Havi," Willow said. "I'll just be a couple minutes."

He pulled her into the basement, away from prying ears and the possibility of Joyce walking in on their conversation. Only when he was satisfied that Havi wasn't listening at the top of the stairs did Spike start talking.

"We're takin' off the protection spell," he said. When her mouth opened to protest, he held up a hand to cut her off. "No arguments, Red. Either you take it off, or I come clean with Buffy. It's showin' up at the doctor's and she's a right wreck worrying about all of it. I'm not goin' to let that happen any more."

Willow's frown was deep. "What do you mean, it's showing up? It can't show up. It's magic."

"Well, something's showin'. Like a shadow that follows the little one around."

She still seemed skeptical, but Spike wasn't budging on this and he knew she could see it in his face. "Just give me a couple minutes," she said. "It's not like a light switch I can turn on and off. I'm going to need a few things."

"Get whatever you want." Relief flooded through him. He'd thought he might have to argue with Red a little bit more about this, but she seemed fairly open to suggestion at the moment. He was going to have to ask her afterward just what had happened when she'd been out with Havi.

*************

The only thing Willow said to her when she came back upstairs was, "It's OK." Havi wasn't sure what she meant by that, but the certainty in her tone was enough to allay any residual worry she'd had about Spike's intentions in the basement. She didn't actually believe that Spike would hurt Willow, but he was still a vampire and when it came to Buffy, he was known to be more than a little unpredictable. It was always better to be cautious around him.

Joyce sat at the desk in the living room, writing out checks to pay the bills. When Havi hesitated in the entrance, Joyce looked up and smiled, though there was more sadness than pleasure in her eyes.

"Feeling better?" she asked.

For a moment, Havi debated telling her the truth about the fight, but the fear that Joyce would react in the same manner as Xander had made her keep her silence. Instead, she just nodded.

"If you ever want to talk about it," Joyce said, "all you have to do is say the word. I might even have some advice that might come in handy. That's one good thing about being the oldest female in the house. I've got experience that deserves to be put to good use."

She didn't know what to say to that. In so many ways, Joyce filled a hole in Havi's life that she hadn't even realized existed until she'd come to Sunnydale. She hadn't been with Rose long enough for the Guardian to be truly invested in her life, and besides, Havi had spent so much time focusing on helping Rose run from Spike that there had been little room for thought elsewhere. That's why it was going to hurt so much when she moved out. Even if she wasn't going to be living with Xander now.

"I think---," she started to say, but a crash from upstairs cut her off.

Joyce was the first to react.

"That's Buffy's room," she said, rushing toward the stairs.

Havi followed her up, but halted at the top when she saw Buffy standing in her open doorway. One hand was on her swollen belly, the other on the jamb keeping her steady, but the eyes the Slayer turned to her mother were dark with fear.

"Something's wrong," she breathed.

*************

He heard the crash from somewhere else in the house, but Spike's attention was riveted to the witch sitting in the middle of the floor. She'd gathered the few ingredients she needed to cancel the spell on Buffy, but the moment she'd started the incantation, Willow had stiffened, her hair charging with electricity, her heart pounding within her chest. Sweat immediately beaded on her brow, and her voice faltered over the words.

"What is it, Red?" he demanded. "What's goin' on?"

"I...I...don't know," she breathed. Her tongue darted out to lick her suddenly dry lips. "It's...fighting me."

"It?" His mind raced before his eyes widened. "The little one?"

"I just...I have to..." Her lashes dipped, closing for a long second during which time Spike heard footsteps echoing from above his head. "...harder..."

The incantation started again, though this time, her voice was rougher.

*************

Havi had her arm around Buffy's back, helping her stand upright. She could feel the heat radiating from the Slayer's flesh, so much higher than normal, but what was more frightening was the uncontrollable quivering that seemed to be attacking the smaller girl's muscles.

"Get her in the car," Joyce ordered, already moving down the stairs. "I'm taking her to the hospital."

They only made it a few steps before Buffy cried out, her knees crumpling beneath her. She pulled Havi down with her, letting her go to curl her fingers into the carpet.

"Get...Spike..." she rasped. Her eyes blazed when they met Havi's. "Now!"

She didn't need to be told twice. Pushing past Joyce, Havi ran down the stairs, through the dining room to the basement door. She slammed into the vampire himself as he came bolting upward, knocking both of them off-balance.

"I heard Buffy," Spike growled.

"Something's wrong with the baby," Havi said. "Joyce is taking her to the hospital, but Buffy asked for you."

Then, Spike did something completely unexpected. Instead of breaking in a dead run for Buffy, he glanced down into the basement. "Tell her I'll be right there," he said, but before Havi could ask what was wrong, he'd disappeared downstairs again.

*************

She could feel the barrier preventing her from completing the incantation start to give. It pulsed, like it was alive, like it could literally fight her back, but Willow knew better. This was her construct. This was her spell. What she had created, she would now destroy.

Her eyes were closed, her efforts forcing her to direct all her attention inward, so she didn't see Spike come back down the stairs until it was too late. A strong hand clapped over her mouth, choking the incantation in her throat, while another banded across her chest so tightly that she couldn't breathe.

Willow screamed.

Her reaction was instinctive. Heat surged beneath her skin, and she heard Spike curse as she struggled in his hold. The contact she'd had with her reversal spell shattered, leaving a gaping hole somewhere in the pit of her stomach, but all she could think of was her desire to breathe, her need to break free. If she could just---.

His snarl of pain came seconds before she fell to the ground, gasping and panting for air. When she lifted her burning gaze up to glare at him, she saw where his shirt had charred from contact with her, the scorch marks that lined his arms. They were nothing compared to the feral anger in his golden eyes.

"What did you do that for?" she spat. "You asked me---."

"We can't break it," he said, his voice a growl from deep inside his chest. "It was doin' something to the little one."

"What?" She stared at him in disbelief. "But that's not possible!"

"Don't care what you might think, but that's the way it is. Joyce is takin' her to the hospital 'cause Buffy said something was wrong. You don't think that might not be just a little bit of a coincidence?"

The door at the top of the stairs opened, and Havi appeared in the entrance, making both of them turn their heads at the same time.

"Buffy is asking for you, Spike," Havi said. She descended enough stairs so that she could meet their eyes. "The pains have stopped, but they are still going to ensure the baby is all right. She would like for you to go with her."

Willow quailed when Spike shot a knowing glance at her before bounding up the stairs, nearly knocking Havi over on the way. He'd been right after all. What had she done?

"Did he hurt you?" Havi asked. She'd descended the rest of the way, and held on to the railing as she regarded Willow.

She shook her head, though her body was still fighting to come down from the panic of fighting off Spike. "Buffy's OK, right?" Her voice sounded wavery, the last vestiges of her adrenaline fading. "There wasn't anything like...bleeding, or stuff like that, right?"

"No bleeding. She was just having abdominal pains. And she was...very warm." There was a pause. "Did you...do something?"

Willow sagged, unable to answer. How could she even consider becoming a Guardian when she'd almost killed an innocent baby? Bile rose in the back of her throat, and she had to fight not to vomit right there in the basement. She could only hope that everything would be all right.

It had to be. She'd never forgive herself if it wasn't.

*************

He woke up to the jostling of a moving vehicle. Something cold was beneath him, but when Xander tried to move, a strong arm suddenly pushed him back until he was lying down again.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you."

Xander froze at the sound of Graham's low voice. "What's going on?" he hissed. "Where are you taking me? And what's with the blindfold? Don't want to risk me seeing where you've been hiding out?"

Though Graham didn't answer, he didn't move, either, continuing to hold Xander down. "The blindfold is to protect your eyes," he finally said. "It wouldn't make a difference if I took it off or not. You wouldn't be able to see anyway."

"What? Why?"

His voice was rising, but Graham's arm pushed him harder against the bench, making him squeak in protest. "The HST," Graham said. "I told you. It's toxic." Xander felt his breath on his cheek as he leaned in closer. "If you want to get out of this alive, you're going to listen to what I'm about to say without saying a word. Understand?"

He didn't, but something hard in Graham's tone told him it would be worse to argue.

"You're being taken in for my superiors to interrogate you," Graham continued. "You should've kept your mouth shut back there, but since you didn't, you're stuck with this. They're also going to try and take care of your injuries. That includes your eyes. The thing is... my superiors don't know anything about you. They're under the impression I was kidnapped by foreign demon hunters, so if you're smart, you're going to pretend you don't know me. Do that, and I'll get you out as soon as the docs are done with you. Don't, and we're both dead men. Do we have a deal?"

"Everything all right back there, Miller?" one of the guys in the front seat called back.

"Affirmative," he replied. There was a long silence during which Xander jostled around on the bench, waiting for whatever was going to come next.

"Why did you lie about who I was?" Xander hissed when nothing was said.

Graham sighed. "I have my reasons," he said. "Now, do we have a deal, or do you want to say goodbye to ever seeing your friends again?"

He didn't really have a choice, not until he could think of a better plan. Or see, for that matter.

"Deal," Xander whispered.

To be continued in Chapter 43: When Hours Have Drain'd His Blood...

The ringing phone woke Robin from a dead sleep, and he stretched wearily to pick up the receiver on the nightstand. "Hello?" he mumbled.

"Buffy Summers has been taken into hospital."

There was no greeting, no attempts at niceties, but hearing Quentin's stiff accent was enough to jolt Robin awake.

"And you're calling me about this because...?"

"I want you to find out what exactly has happened," Quentin said. "Be our eyes, so to speak."

"Sounds to me the eyes you already have are doing just fine if you know she's been admitted." Falling back onto his pillow, Robin sighed as he tried to gather his wits enough to deal with the Council Head on a level footing. "Ask Lydia to do this. I haven't even agreed that I'm going to help you yet."

"Lydia is otherwise occupied. As for our sources..." The rustle of papers came over the line. "I'm interested in a firsthand account, Robin. Sterile facts don't tell me how her family is reacting or what might have happened to induce her admittance. These are details that I need to know if I'm to proceed as I need to."

"You could just leave her alone, you know. It's not like she hasn't done her job for you."

Quentin's chuckle sent chills down Robin's spine. "You, of all people, should see the Council's need to monitor this situation," he said. "I'll give you until noon your time to get back with me about what you find out. That should be sufficient time for you to discover at least some preliminary information. Good day, Robin."

The line went dead before he could respond, and he returned the phone to its base with a leaden drop. He couldn't say no; Travers knew that. Robin just hated being manipulated so blatantly. Hopefully, he would find out that Buffy's troubles were benign. For her sake, it would make everybody's life a hell of a lot easier.

*************

Nobody wanted to approach him, but frankly, Spike didn't care. He was too busy fuming about what was taking the hospital staff so bloody long to get back with some news. It had been over an hour since Buffy had been rushed into a private room, leaving him and Joyce waiting outside twiddling their thumbs while she was getting examined. He'd not sat down for a second of that, pacing the length of the sterile corridor with heavy steps that forewarned anyone of his darkening mood.

When the doctor finally came out, Spike leapt forward, reaching him before Joyce could.

"Well?" he demanded. "How's Buffy? Is she OK? What about the baby? What the soddin' hell has taken you so long to get your---?"

"Spike." Joyce's hand was light on his arm, but her tone was firm. "Dr. Calder can't tell us anything if you're too busy yelling at him."

The older man fidgeted under Spike's glare. "Buffy is just fine," he said. "She and the baby are stable, she's not dilating, and the baby's heartbeat is strong. We're not sure what exactly happened, but considering the results she got at her ultrasound earlier today, I'm going to keep her here for observation just in case."

"Can I see her?" Spike asked.

Dr. Calder nodded. "But just for a few minutes. She needs her rest and it's well past visiting hours. You'll be able to come back in the morning for a more extended visit."

"I'll wait here," Joyce said, patting Spike's arm. "Just tell Buffy I love her."

"Will do." He followed the doctor through the hall, trying to stifle the desire to rush past and run for Buffy's room. When they reached her door, Dr. Calder paused before pushing it open.

"You have five minutes," he reminded.

The room smelled like sickness in spite of the layers of disinfectant the hospital had used to try and cover it up. He hated that smell. It reminded him too much of less than happy times, those awful days with his mother after he'd turned her, too many incidents with Dru to number. Buffy was stretched out on the lone bed, pale and tired, and Spike had to fight to smile when she met his eyes.

"Have I mentioned how much I hate hospitals?" she complained.

"Necessary evil," he replied. Crossing the distance to the side of the bed, he had her cradled in his arms before she could blink, letting the echoes of hers and the baby's heartbeats pound into his flesh. "Doc says that it's just routine. To make sure it doesn't happen again."

"Yeah, except they don't even know what happened in the first place." Her sigh warmed his chest, and her arms tightened around his waist. "I'm scared, Spike. What if something is really wrong with the baby? What happened---."

"Nothing's wrong." His voice was fiercer than he meant it to be, and he took a stabilizing breath before continuing. "I can hear it for myself, Buffy. There's nothin' wrong with the little one's ticker."

"But you didn't feel how much it hurt," she said. Extricating herself from his embrace, Buffy turned haunted eyes to face him. "It felt like I was being cut in two, Spike. It felt like part of me was dying. I've been stabbed, drowned, punched, kicked, and nothing has ever hurt like that. So, don't tell me nothing's wrong. Pain happens for a reason."

"Maybe it was one of those Braxton-Hicks you were readin' about," he suggested. "Your body's just doin' a dry run for the real thing."

"It's too early for a dry run. There's no way Schmoo would survive if I went into labor now."

"Which is why they call it false labor, luv. It's perfectly natural." Pushing back the hair that hung in her face, Spike maintained a calm façade, desperate for her not to see the fear that was roiling inside. "I'm not goin' to let anything happen to you or the baby, Buffy. How many times do I have to tell you that?"

"I know. It's just..." She shook her head, sagging back against the pillows. "You're going to think I'm silly."

"Too late for that."

She slapped at his arm. "I'm serious here. But...OK, it's like this. When I'm slaying, I know what I'm fighting. I can see it. And I know who I'm fighting for. Mom, Willow, Xander, Giles. You. But this with Schmoo...it feels like it's completely out of my control, that whatever I do, it doesn't matter. And what's worse, if I screw up, that's it. Game over. Willow and Giles can always try and defend themselves if I make a mistake, but I'm all Schmoo's got."

"But you're not. I'm here."

"No offense, Spike, but if my blood pressure decides to go into outer space, there's not a whole lot you can do about it."

"There's other---."

The opening of the door behind him made him shut up, shifting to see the nurse hovering in the entryway with a wheelchair. "I need to move Ms. Summers to her room now," she said. "Visiting hours start again at nine in the morning, sir."

Spike scowled at the label, but swallowed the rejoinder that automatically rose to his lips. Turning back to Buffy, he leaned forward to brush a light kiss across her mouth.

"I'm goin' to be waiting outside until they let me back in again," he said softly. "You need anything, you just give me a shout. I'll come runnin.'"

"You need to go home," Buffy insisted.

"I need to be where you are," he shot back.

She glanced at the nurse before whispering, "You can't risk the sun, Spike."

He gave her his slyest grin. "You think I don't know how to get into the biggest blood supplier in the city at any hour of the day?" he teased. "I'll be fine. You just make sure you rest so that I can take you home when they say I can."

Rising from the bed, Spike stood out of the way while Buffy moved from the bed to the chair, maintaining his best cheer until she was gone. Only then did his shoulders slump, the fear start trickling back.

He was going to call Willow and find out just what had gone wrong with the spell. And then make her swear not to touch it until they sussed it out.

*************

Maggie hung in the background, waiting for the soldiers to disperse before approaching Graham at the door. "What can you tell me about the civilian?" she asked.

He stood at attention, even though she hadn't said a word about it. He had been extra-careful with protocols ever since his kidnapping incident. "He's a local, ma'am. Nineteen years old, works with Sunnydale Construction."

"Does he have any associations with the university?"

"Not that we were able to find, ma'am."

She nodded in approval. "Good. I'd rather interrogate him myself. I don't like the thought that the locals are aware of our operations as his statement suggests. What's his name again?"

"Harris. Alexander Harris."

"Thank you. Dismissed."

She didn't wait to watch him leave, sliding her pass key in the lock of the cell that held the prisoner. The door opened with an electric swoosh, and she stepped inside to see the young man strapped down to the gurney.

The doctors had already done their work on him, but bandages now covered his eyes instead of the blindfold. She'd been told the blindness would be temporary, which worked in their favor. He wouldn't be able to find their base when he was released. Maggie wasn't certain she wanted to let him loose back in the population until she was satisfied he wasn't a threat, though.

"Hello?" he called out. His head lifted off the small pillow, as if he could see who might have entered. "If you're here to clean the room, I'd just like to say I'm ready to check out now. I think I'm starting to overstay my welcome."

"I'm afraid you won't be leaving just yet." She stepped closer, examining his other injuries. Superficial, all of them. The burns along his shoulders were barely second degree; his clothing had protected him from the worst of the demon's blood. "How are you feeling?"

His head fell back with a soft thump. "How am I feeling?" he repeated. "How do you think I'm feeling? My civil rights are pretty much in tatters, I have demon goo in orifices that shouldn't ever have any kind of goo in them, and your doctors keep all their instruments in the freezer. I'm doing just jim dandy, thank you."

Ignoring his sarcasm, Maggie scribbled down a few notes on her clipboard. "Do you know where you are, Mr. Harris?"

"The seventh circle of hell? Oh, wait, that was fourth period math class." He paused, his brow wrinkling. "How do you know my name?"

"Through the very sneaky way of looking through your wallet. Now, I'd like to talk about..."

*************

Graham hung around outside Xander's cell, doing his best to look inconspicuous as he strained to listen to the conversation going on inside. Dr. Walsh was the last person he wanted questioning Xander, but he couldn't very well march in and tell her to stop. She was already watching him with an eagle eye that made him feel like the bad boy among the nuns; any day now, Walsh was going to crack and let him have it.

From what he could tell, though, it sounded like Xander was holding up his end of the deal. Graham couldn't afford to have his secret revealed; he'd be court-martialed for sure. Worse, he wasn't convinced that Xander was really a threat to their operations like the others seemed to think. Maybe it would be a good thing if the locals knew some of what they were doing. It would be easier to do their job, and fewer people would end up getting hurt. But that wasn't his decision to make. His job entailed doing what he was told, rounding up the demons to bring them back for the studies, and to kill whatever was left over. His job was simple.

He was beginning to really hate his job.

When he heard Dr. Walsh's voice get louder as she approached the door, he bolted, marching quickly away before she could catch him lurking around. He had no idea how he was going to get Harris out of the compound; the place was too heavily guarded and his movements too closely watched. Keeping him around, however, put Graham's safety at risk, so he had to come up with something.

The something that presented itself almost made him stop in his tracks.

It was potential suicide, but considering the rock and hard place he was stuck between, Graham didn't think he had much of a choice. This way, too, he would be exonerated should Xander's escape fail. It was the only solution that ultimately made sense.

*************

Even if he hadn't been smoking, the red flare of his cigarette illuminating the harsh planes of his face, the yellow of the streetlamps above him betrayed Spike's presence at the front of the hospital just as readily, halting Robin in his steps. He watched the vampire sit hunched against the building wall, knees drawn up, head bowed once he'd flicked away the butt. He looked like a man lost. Robin's lip curled in disdain.

He didn't want to be here, but maybe Spike's presence would save him an awkward trip inside. He had yet to figure out how to get the information Travers wanted; this was as likely a method as any.

Resuming a steady pace, Robin walked up to the doors of the Emergency Room, only pretending to hesitate when he passed the black leather form. "Spike?" he asked, as if he didn't know who the man was.

Spike lifted his head. The blue eyes were bloodshot, but Robin knew right away that it wasn't due to alcohol or drugs. The dried tracks on his cheeks told the true story. A long minute passed where Spike just stared at him blankly, but then the eyes narrowed, the head tilting as recognition dawned.

"Buffy's psych prof," he announced.

"Teaching assistant," Robin corrected automatically. He nodded in the direction of the hospital. "Kind of a funny place to be hanging out in the middle of the night, isn't it?"

"Could say the same for you."

Robin was ready for that. "A friend of mine was attacked tonight," he said. "He called me to come pick him up and give him a ride home."

"Well, they don't call it the Hellmouth for nothin'," Spike muttered.

He wiped wearily at his face, straightening to his full height. As it had the first time he'd seen him, Robin was surprised at how much smaller Spike was than him. In his memories, his mother's killer had always towered over her. This demon only hit five-ten because of his boots.

"You're not here because of Buffy, are you?" Robin asked carefully.

"Had a bit of a scare with the baby," Spike admitted. His lashes were lowered, his gaze continuously drawn to the closed doors as if he wished he could be inside rather than out. "They've got her in for observation to make sure her and the little one are all right."

"Not too serious, I hope."

"Nah. Docs figure it's just false labor."

"But she's OK?"

"She'll be better once they let her out of this place." At Robin's frown, he elaborated. "She's not right fond of hospitals. She's not so pleased about havin' to stick around if all they're goin' to do is keep an eye on her."

"For some reason, that doesn't surprise me," Robin said. "Buffy's always struck me as the independent type." He paused. "That must drive you crazy."

"Are you kidding? Love it. Well, most of the time. But it's part of why I fell in love with her in the first place. She just has this way of makin' everybody else around her...better."

It wasn't a confession that he wanted to hear. The ache in Spike's voice was real, and if he hadn't known the truth about his being a vampire, Robin would've been convinced that this was a man desperately in love. "That sounds like a true gift," he murmured, unsure of what else to say.

Spike's eyes were solemn when they looked back to Robin. "You don't know the half of it," he said. There was a moment of quiet contemplation, and then he asked, "You have kids?"

Robin smiled, trying to lighten the mood. "Gotta have a girl for that," he said. "Why do you ask?"

"Just wondering if all this is normal," came the reply.

"The false labor?"

Spike shook his head. "No, know enough 'bout what's goin' on in her body not to be fussed about that. It's the other part. The part I can't touch."

"OK, you've lost me."

Reaching into his coat pocket, Spike extracted a crumpled pack of cigarettes, shaking his head when he found only one more remained inside. "Should quit," he said to nobody in particular. "Don't know why I keep it on when Buffy and her mum give me the evil eye every time I reach for a pack of fags."

"Because it's comfortable," Robin replied. "Holding onto something you can control while the rest of the world changes around you."

Spike grinned around the cigarette that hung from his bottom lip. "Guess I asked for the psychobabble, eh?" he said, fumbling for his lighter. A long second passed as he lit the tip, taking a deep drag and exhaling into the cool night air. "It's just..." And Robin realized that he'd gone back to clarifying his earlier comment. "...little one's not even born yet, yeah? Got another three months before we even know if it's a boy or a girl. And still, it almost killed me tonight thinking something might've happened to it. I guess I didn't realize just how attached to it I am already."

Robin waited for him to continue, but that seemed to be all Spike was going to say on the matter. "I could slip into psychobabble mode again and say that mothers aren't the only ones to bond with their unborn child, but something tells me you already know that," he said. He shoved his hands into his pockets and took a step closer to the doors. This touchy-feely sharing session with Spike was the last thing he'd wanted when he'd stopped to talk to him, and it was leaving him with a sour taste in the back of his mouth.

"I better get going," he said, edging even further away. "Give Buffy my best, OK?"

Spike only nodded, turning to stare into the night sky.

Robin's hand was on the door when he paused. "Spike?" he called out.

"Yeah?"

"If Buffy's fine, why are you still here?"

The vampire grinned. "Gotta be here when my girl wakes up, don't I?"

He made the explanation sound so much like it should be common sense that Robin felt embarrassed for having asked. He just gave Spike a curt nod and disappeared into the hospital.

*************

Though he never saw her face, Xander couldn't shake the feeling that he should know the doctor who kept bugging him with questions. She was relentless, going back over the same ground again and again, never once raising her voice or making it sound like she was frustrated with his non-answers. Even when Xander made the joke comparing the vigilante demon hunters to the Keystone Kops, she didn't crack. She just changed the subject back to why he'd been out on the edge of town in the first place.

Briefly, he wondered if he was making a mistake trusting Graham. If he told the stoic Dr. Walsh exactly how her soldier boy had lied to her...but no. That would open a can of worms that would very likely get him into worse trouble. She'd want to know how he knew what he did, and that would definitely get him stuck in a cell with someone called Moose telling him how pretty his mouth was. Growing up on a Hellmouth or not, Xander wasn't quite ready to deal with something like that.

It also didn't help that he couldn't see a damn thing. Dr. Walsh and the others kept saying that the treatment had been successful, but Xander wasn't seeing that, every pun intended. So, until he could walk out of wherever it was they were holding him without bumping into the wall instead of the doorway, he was going to have to play by their rules. Or Graham's rules. He really hoped that Graham was going to stick with his end of the deal, though how that was going to end up happening, Xander had no idea.

He heard her flip some more paper, the scratch of a pen as she wrote something else down. He had no idea what it could be; the most interesting thing he'd thought he said was that the demon goo had made his nose feel like it was running.

"You're looking tired," Dr. Walsh said. "I'll be back in the morning to talk to you again. Perhaps some sleep will make you a little more...responsive."

"You really expect me to sleep strapped down like this?" he asked. "You people have heard of bed sores, right? I happen to have extra-sensitive skin here. Keeping me in one position like this is just asking for trouble."

She ignored his really bad lie. The next thing he knew, there was a sharp prick in the crook of his elbow, and he jumped as much as his restraints would allow.

"You didn't get enough out of me already?" he complained. Why the hell were they taking a blood sample?

"Have a good night, Mr. Harris," she said. The next thing he heard was the soft electronic whoosh of the door. He was alone.

Fear began to bubble inside his stomach. Nobody had known where he was all day; odds were very good that Buffy wasn't going to come marching in for the grand rescue any minute. Even if she wasn't pregnant, she still had no clue as to where the vigilantes were based. She would have no idea where to start looking for him.

The only person he'd even seen before going off on his brood session was Havi, and he'd been too harsh with her to think that she'd be worried about his absence any time soon.

Xander sighed. Yeah, it was all coming back to Graham. He was starting to wish he'd been a little nicer to the guy when he'd been chained up in Giles' tub.

*************

Having Devon knock at his door in the dead of night was nothing new to Oz. Rubbing wearily at his eyes, he pushed aside the blankets and rolled off the bed, padding silently across the room to answer it.

"I hope you remember where you left your car this time," he commented when he opened the door. "I'd hate to run out of gas like we did last time looking for it."

Devon just stared at him for a long moment before shaking his head blankly. "There's some dude out front who says he needs to see you," he said. "Says it can't wait."

"Is it Spike?" Oz asked.

"You think I'm so stoned I wouldn't recognize Spike if I saw him? It's some other dude. Not Harris, either, before you ask."

With a frown, Oz followed Devon down the hall, continuing on to the front door when his buddy flopped back onto the couch. The door stood slightly ajar, and he pushed it further open, peering around to see the stiff form of Graham Miller waiting at the edge of the porch.

A minute of silence passed between the two men as they regarded each other.

"Huh," Oz finally said.

To be continued in Chapter 44: Him Have I Lost...

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