Chapter 34 - Captivity


I was torn. Torn between figuring out a way to escape, and the need to just be there for Spike. In the end, I just stayed close to him. Because, for now at least, we're safe. I don't want to trust Riley, but there was something about him when we talked - it just told me to trust him on that. Not that he's got a blank cheque, it's just that I believe he's done this because he thinks it's the best way to keep us safe. I don't agree with him, but ..

A couple of hours after I talked to Riley, I felt Spike move. I lay beside him, propped on my elbow to watch him, as the initial movements became more definite, and at last he opened his eyes. The look he gave me as he focussed on my face made me feel so humble. It was as though he didn't believe I'd really be there, but that it was what he hoped for with everything that he is.

He didn't speak at first, just gazed at me, as if trying to persuade himself that I wasn't a dream. Then, as I spoke to him softly, trying to reassure him, he responded, touching my face, my hair, as though trying to memorise me that way in case sight ever failed him.

I explained what had happened. It took a while, because at first he seemed to be completely caught up in just registering my presence. Gradually, I pulled his attention away from me, to the predicament we're in.

Now, he sits up on the bed, taking in the room.
"You've tried the door?" he asks.
"Not too seriously, but it'll take some effort to break down. It's what's outside that's the real problem. There are armed men stationed throughout the complex, and it's a long way to the surface. If we're going to get out of here, we need help, or at least a plan. Something I haven't given too much thought to, because I really didn't want to have to carry you out."

He almost looks hurt at that, then he spots the expression on my face. He grins then, realising that I was joking. In truth, I was just so worried about him, that, given that we were safe, it was better to do it together.

My suspicions that we are being watched are confirmed by the fact that we're joined by Westgate within minutes, and he's not alone.

He knocks at the door, but, given that's it's locked from the outside, it's more of a warning than a request for permission to enter.

Spike tenses at the entry, and I run my hand up and down his arm in an attempt to pacify him a bit. He responds, but I know he's still coiled, ready to strike if he considers the man a threat.

"You're feeling better?" he asks Spike.
I'm not sure he was going to answer at all, but I nudge him, and he manages, "Wasn't feeling a lot of anything until I woke up. Now, I'm just fine, thank you."

The edge of sarcasm isn't lost on Westgate, and he looks almost guilty.
"I don't know how much Buffy has told you," he explains, "but, for what it's worth, I'd like to apologise for what Dawson put you through. You may find it hard to believe, but her .. experiments .. on you, were not official policy. The sample taking, well, yes, that was official, but you were meant to be kept, safe and unharmed in case you were needed again. The other thing, that, well, that was barbaric. As long as you make no attempt to escape, I can assure you that you will not be harmed."

"So, what do you have in mind?" I ask.
"My primary objective is your safety, yours and the baby's. We would like to .. study what remains of your pregnancy, and to evaluate the child when he's born."

"She," I correct him. He looks bemused, so I make it clear. "The baby is a girl. So, your idea of keeping me safe is to use me as some sort of guinea pig - to study me, poke me, and then do the same to my daughter. Excuse me if I don't feel too safe right now."

"I assure you, we won't do anything that might harm either of you. Everything will be done with the minimum of interference. It would be normal for you to have certain .. examinations, measurements, and so on carried out at this stage of pregnancy, and we will continue to monitor on that basis. I've called in the most experienced obstetrician I could find to look after you, so you really will be in the best of hands."

"I want Dr. Chan. I don't want a stranger, even if he's the best you can find."
Westgate glances around at his entourage, and catches the eye of the only other member who's not obviously armed. He mutters something, which I manage to catch. "The doctor whose offices were raided."

"I see," Westgate replies. "I can ask Dr. Chan, of course, but I don't know if she'd be willing to come here. Obviously, I can't allow you to go to her."
"Obviously," I hear Spike mutter under his breath.

"I'll see what can be arranged," Westgate decides. "In the meantime, please make yourselves at home. If there's anything you need, let us know."

With that, he turns, and leaves with his merry band of followers.

I do my best to calm Spike after he leaves. It's obvious that most of his resentment is because of the intrusion into my privacy, so I minimise my own distress at that. What should be a private, joyful thing, the arrival of a child, could so easily become a public circus, and that's the last thing I want.

I'm hoping that if they take us out of our room for the examination, then at least we'll get some more information on the set up here, but I don't say that, because I'm sure they're listening.

"They watching us?" Spike asks.
"Looks that way," I answer.
He gestures to me for silence, and we both sit very still, listening for anything out of the ordinary.

For the first time I realise how noisy our prison actually is. There's the faint buzz of the fluorescent lights, the rather noisier sounds of the fridge, and then there's the sound of the air circulation system. We switch off what we can control, and listen again.

We both move around the room, as quietly as we can, enhanced hearing tuned to anything we can't account for.

After a few moments, Spike calls me over to the wall where he's been listening and looking for a few moments. I listen carefully for a few seconds before I identify what he's found. When we look closely, we spot a tiny lens hidden in what appears to be a knot in the woodwork.

Now that we've found one, others are found quickly, and before long, we've got five similar lenses covered, and we where the microphones are too. It's harder to do anything about them, but we'll just have to avoid saying anything we don't want them to hear.

"Feel like a shower, Pet?" Spike asks.
I don't know why he's suddenly thinking about personal hygiene, but I nod my head, and follow him into the bathroom. There's already a plug of chewing gum stuck over a lens in there, but Spike ignores that, and turns on the water.

Once the water is running, he comes close to me and whispers in my ear.
"Hopefully, the sound'll mask what we're saying," he explains.
"What do you want to say that's so private?" I ask.
"Not so much what I want to say," he replies, nuzzling at my neck, "but what I want to do."

He pushes me up against the wall, and if I'd had any doubts before, I now know exactly what he has in mind.

It was a long shower. One big advantage of this place, we didn't run out of hot water.

My legs feel like jelly as I dry myself off and pull on the towelling robe that's been thoughtfully provided. Spike and I make our way through to the bedroom, falling onto the bed together. Between the tension of being captive, and the recent physical activity, we're both tired, and before long, we're both asleep.

When I waken, I know it's much later. Spike and I are wrapped around one another the way we usually sleep together. I lie and watch him for a few moments, before I realise he's already awake. He flashes me a grin when I punch him on the chest, then I make myself comfortable against him. The fact that we're captive should be a big deal, but right now, I'm just concentrating on how good it feels to be close to him. I can feel Zara moving around, a limb of some sort apparently trying to poke its way out through my navel. Spike puts his hand on the point, feeling the strength in those tiny muscles, and smiles at me in a way that would make me love him even more, if that was possible.

Of course, being close soon causes our thoughts to turn back to other things, and as things start to get heated, I manage to ask "Shower again?"
"No, we'll just keep the noise down this time," he replies.
That causes me to smile, because it seems like an almost impossible task.

We make love again, and it is quiet, by our standards. I just hope it's quiet enough.

Afterwards, I become aware of movement on the other side of the door dividing our room from Riley's. I still don't know exactly what to think about him. So far, he's been right. We seem to be safe here, unless you count the 'being a guinea pig' bit, but I'm still not certain I can trust him. Of course, that's largely because of previous actions. Let's face it, since he left on that helicopter, he hasn't exactly done much to earn my trust.

Without discussing it, both Spike and I get up to dress. As I stand up, I feel a tightening across my front, and I pause while it passes. It's a side-effect of needing to go to the toilet, and something I've been having quite regularly recently. This one takes a little longer to pass than I've noticed before, but I decide that's probably just a result of our recent 'work out'.

When I get back from the bathroom, I find Spike prowling the room, looking pretty much like the caged animal I know he is. I'm feeling hungry, though, so I go to the fridge, pulling out some fruit, and cold meat. There's some bread nearby, so I make some sandwiches. It's as if the sight of food is responsible for making him realise that he's hungry, because very soon, the sandwiches are gone, and I know I haven't had my share. I pout at that, and he looks confused.
"I'm still hungry," I complain.
He shrugs, and goes back towards the fridge, rummaging in a cupboard close to it, and returning with some chips. Not the ideal healthy breakfast, but then, maybe we should take Westgate at his word, and tell them what we want.

I feel another tightening in my tummy, and my hand moves to stroke the board-hard contour. Spike notices, and he questions me with a look.

"What is it they're called? Branston Higgs?" I ask.
"Braxton Hicks," he corrects. He's been reading up on the whole pregnancy experience. "Any pain?"
"No," I answer. And I can't really call it pain. It's more an unlocalised discomfort.

There's another knock on the door, followed by an immediate entry. Westgate's back, and this time, his entourage is smaller. Still a couple of armed men with rifles trained at us, though, so it's not going to do any good. And, this time, Riley's there too.

"I hope you slept well," he says, looking around the room critically at all the bits of gum covering the lenses we found.
"Just fine, thanks," Spike replies.
"I'm willing to overlook the cameras," Westgate offers, "as I suspect the pictures wouldn't be suitable viewing for some of my men anyway. However, if I have any reason to believe that you are doing anything to betray the trust I'm showing, I have to warn you, that I can have men in here at a few seconds notice."

We don't answer. He doesn't seem surprised.
"I've persuaded Dr. Chan to attend you," he continues, "and she'll be here in about an hour. I've arranged for you to go upstairs to one of our medical suites where she can examine you. There will be another two people present for the examination, one is a doctor who is on secondment to my unit, and who specialises in non-human physiology, and the other is a nurse who will assist both doctors as required. I'll send someone to collect you as soon as everything is ready."

By the way he looks at me as he speaks, I know he only means me.
"I want Spike there," I tell him.
"That's out of the question," he replies.
"If you want my co-operation, Spike will be there. He's the baby's father, and he has the right to be there. If you exclude him, then you're going to have a fight on your hands, and you wouldn't want anyone getting hurt, now would you?"

As I speak, I reach out to hold Spike's hand. His arm is rigid, and I know he picked up the same message as I did. The difference is that he sees it as my choice whether or not he's present, so he couldn't say anything. I stroke his arm, trying to communicate my need for him.

Westgate looks around at Riley. He nods, giving his approval of the change of plans. Riley looks at me, and his expression tells me clearly that his reputation's on the line here. If I try anything, Westgate won't listen to him again.

With a sigh, Westgate agrees.
"Very well, he can be present. However, I will have to increase the security detail. They will be in the room, but you will be in an area which is screened off from them for your privacy. Is that acceptable?"

I nod. It's not ideal, but as long as I've got Spike there, I'll deal.
 

We're escorted through endless corridors in silence. Westgate isn't among the detail, but their orders were obviously to keep their sights trained on me, so there was nothing we can do, my baby is too important for me to risk, and they know it.

We're shown into a large examination room. It certainly seems as well-equipped as anything I've seen in hospital. A largish area in the centre of the room is screened off, and our escort takes up position around that screen while Spike and I are ushered inside.

The space inside is cramped, but that's only because it's so full of people and equipment. I'm surprised to see Riley there, and it's obvious that he's not comfortable. My feelings on seeing Dr. Chan are different - pure relief - and she's obviously trying hard not to show me how scared she actually is. She greets me effusively, and helps me onto the examination couch.

I can feel Spike's agitation, and I keep a hand on his arm, desperate to keep him calm. While it's not ideal to have him wound up like this - I'm only too aware of the devastation that could be caused if he loses control - I know he's only like this because of how much he loves me, loves us. In a perverse way it makes me feel safe, even when I know I'm anything but.

Once I'm settled, I notice the two strangers for the first time. The other woman is dressed in a nurse's uniform. She's average height with black hair and stunningly blue eyes. She smiles nervously at me, and I know she's not comfortable with the arrangement.

The other person is a six foot African American, and my attention is immediately drawn to his hands. They seem completely out of proportion to his rather larger than average body, being small and delicate, almost feminine in appearance.

"I'll be just outside, and I'll make sure no one comes in unless there's a problem," Riley mutters, as he moves towards the gap in the screens, pulling them closed behind him.

Realistically, I know his promise isn't worth anything. I mean, because he's standing at the makeshift entrance doesn't mean a thing when you're surrounded by moveable partitions, but I know he means well.

"Shall we begin?" the tall man with tiny hands says, "I'm Dr. Jameson."

He holds out a hand to shake mine, and I reluctantly return the gesture.

"I understand you're not happy with your current situation," he continues, "but I have promised to treat you no differently from any other patient I've ever had, and I've only been involved with the military for a short part of my career."

I nod, not agreeing, just confirming that I've heard what he said.

He looks pointedly at Dr. Chan. It's obvious that he's not happy about her presence. He then turns his attention to me. "Before you begin your examination, I thought I'd tell you that I have some theories about how this pregnancy is progressing. A good deal of what I've come up with, is extrapolation from the test results done on your .. partner. Assuming your physiology is similar to his, would I be right in saying that you heal faster than a human?"

"Yes, but then I always have," I answer.

"Ah, yes. The Initiative records state that you thought you were some sort of mystical being called the 'Slayer'.

"I am the Slayer."

"And is your partner also a Slayer?"

There's a muffled laugh from Spike at that.

"No, I'm bloody not!"

"I see," he continues. "Well, excuse me if I just go with the facts I have in front of me.

Spike shrugs. To be honest, the man's irritating me too, but I'm determined not to show it.

"Now, there was evidence that human blood would increase 17's healing ability further. Is that also true of you?"

"His name is Spike."

He sighs, obviously I'm getting to him too.

"There is evidence that human blood increases .. Spike's .. healing ability. Is that also true of you?"

"Seems to be," I admit.

"Now, Dr. Chan's records show that your pregnancy is accelerated relative to a human confinement, and she had a concern that it wasn't even progressing in a linear fashion. Isn't that right?"

Dr. Chan looks at him, and then at me.

"Miss Summers, you must understand that I haven't disclosed any information to these people voluntarily. They raided my office, and took your file. I can only apologise for that .."

I hold out a hand and grasp one of hers.

"It's not your fault," I reassure her. "Anyway, I'd like to know what you think."

"Ok," she says, apparently taking a moment to array her thoughts.

"You remember the last time you visited me, I said I thought the pregnancy was accelerated. It was more than that, but I didn't have the data to be sure, so I didn't say anything. I hoped to have a better idea after your next examination. It seemed to me that, not only was your pregnancy moving faster than normal, it actually seemed to be accelerating. The early stages were pretty close to normal rate, but recently, things have been moving much faster."

"Now, my theory," Jameson takes over, "is that this is a direct consequence of your superior healing ability. The metabolic rate required to support healing at that rate, allows the process of development of the foetus to be faster too. If you ingest blood, this could easily have an effect on the rate too. In any case, I'd like to start with a simple examination to estimate the size of the baby. Then, we'll do an ultrasound, and depending on the results, we can go on from there."

"I'd like Dr. Chan to do the exam," I remind him. "You can watch if you like, but I want her to do it."

Jameson doesn't look happy at that, but he shrugs and takes a step back. It looks like he thought I'd change my mind once I'd seen how clever he is. As if.

The initial tests are simple, requiring an examination of my burgeoning belly, and listening to the baby's heartbeat. Of course, I can hear it most of the time now, a background noise that makes sure I can' t forget that she's there, even for a moment.

After that, there's the ultrasound, and, while Dr. Chan is in charge, Jameson's obviously itching to get his hands on the transducer. He requests her to move it around, making sure that he gets all the information he wants. There are more measurements then, and some raised eyebrows, but no information is forthcoming.

When it's over, Dr. Chan bends over her notes, scribbling and furrowing her brow. Jameson's obviously itching to say something, but he's quiet.

"Well, Buffy," Dr. Chan manages at last. "It would appear that I was correct. You should still have over a month to go, but from the size of the baby, it looks as though you're very close to term."

"How close?" I ask, as I feel something inside contract in fear or excitement.

"Well, that's difficult to predict, but let's just say that I wouldn't have any concerns for the baby if you were to go into labour today. However, I don't think that's likely. The baby's head is still a bit high for that, but that could change quite quickly."

Spike's hand tenses on mine then, and I know he's feeling my excitement. I squeeze back, and we look at one another, forgetting the others in the room for a moment.

"Dr.," Jameson interrupts our moment. "I think you should continue with the examination."

"I see no reason to do anything further," Dr. Chan responds.

"But we need to do an internal examination," he argues. "If you don't want to, I'd be happy to oblige."

"No," Spike interrupts, a second before me. "If Dr. Chan doesn't think it's necessary, then it doesn't happen."

"Really," Dr. Jameson says allowing his frustration to be obvious. "An internal examination is standard procedure for all non-human subjects and most of my human patients, come to that. We don't know anything about the likely success or otherwise of labour. She looks human, but what we can't see could be anything but."

"I'll vouch for everything being standard," Spike growls. "Now just leave her alone."

"I'll be talking to the Westgate about this, and if I don't get satisfaction from him, then I'll go higher if need be. This is an outrageous interference with normal practice. How can I be expected to provide the information needed if I can't examine the subjects? I was willing to accept someone else performing the examination, against my better judgement, I might add, but this.. is just unacceptable!"

At that point, he walks away, leaving me to pull my top down again. I stand up, and Spike puts his arm around me, holding me close. It's only then that I realise that I'm shaking.

Before we can move further, a screen is moved slightly, and I hear Riley's voice. I smile as I glance up to find his eyes averted to the side.

"Can I come in?"

"It's ok, Riley," I reply. "I think we're going to go back to our room."

He looks at us then, and nods. He quite obviously heard everything that happened, and his normally pale complexion is reddened, I assume by anger, although it could have been embarrassment. He moves the screens away, and we move out of the enclosure to find ourselves surrounded by the same escort. We walk back along the corridors, not speaking, but I know Spike's taking in every detail as we walk, just as I am.

When I'm sure Buffy's safely back in their room, I walk towards Westgate's office. I'm not surprised to hear that Simon's busy, and I can hear the raised voices. As I'm talking to Westgate's secretary, Jameson comes storming out of the office, and he's still yelling.

"You haven't heard the last of this. That specimen is unique. If she gives birth to live young, it could be the start of a complete breeding programme. It's too important for humanitarian feelings - even if she were human. And, don't think about moving her." This last is a warning, delivered with a menace that's hard to miss.

He almost walks into me as he leaves, he's so intent on Westgate. As soon as the path is clear, I go into Westgate's office. He's looking worried.

"He'll get the ok, won't he?" I ask.

"For what he wants? Yes, he will. And, once he's got control, I dread to think what else he'll do. He's ambitious. Technically, he's brilliant, but, from what I've heard, his rather abrasive manner meant he wasn't successful with human patients. He sees this programme as his chance to prove his brilliance, without having to worry about the niceties involved in treating humans."

"So, what do we do?" I demand.

"There's nothing I can do. I'd guess, she's only got hours before he's back with the authorisation to do exactly what he wants, and I'd bet that's a lot more than he's admitted so far."

He's looking at me, and the expression is a challenge. He's made his meaning clear. There's nothing he can do. He's a family man, I know that. Three kids of his own. I can see his point. He might have sympathy for Buffy, but he's got to consider his own family, their future. I have no one to consider, not any more. So, maybe, there's something I can do. I decide to take the chance.

"Sir, I'd like to request a leave of absence. Twenty-four hours should be enough, there're some things I need to sort out - some paperwork to finalise everything after Sam's death."

"Of course, of course," he answers.

I almost feel bad using Sam as an excuse like that, but I know she'd approve. She couldn't understand my pre-occupation with splitting up Buffy and Spike, and she'd want me to try to make up for it.

I leave the office, and start to plan. I might have Westgate's tacit approval, but that doesn't mean it's risk-free. The first step is a phone call. Willow sounds dubious at first, but it doesn't take too long to persuade her that I'm serious. Then I go and pick up a couple of uniforms. I've got to guess at Spike's size, but I'm pretty confident about that. Buffy's harder. She's so short, and with the added difficulty of the bump, I end up having to compromise.

I stash the uniforms in my room, and head for the equipment stores. I'm interested to note that security seems to have been reduced. It's still there, but there seem to be gaps. Westgate's obviously done what he can, without taking too many personal risks.

I pick up a couple of things that might be useful, and return to my room. Next comes the bit I'm not really looking forward to. I knock quietly on the door which interconnects with theirs. Spike answers, and his face shows his disapproval. Still, he walks away from me, returning to sit on the bed where Buffy's lying, propped on pillows. It could be my imagination, but I could swear that her bump is bigger than a short while ago. Still, despite everything, she looks beautiful. My mom always said that pregnancy gives women a dignity they don't have otherwise, but I couldn't see it before. Looking at Buffy, I know exactly what she meant.

I hold up an electronic device. "This will interfere with the surveillance equipment," I explain, before telling them what I've got planned.

"It's only a matter of time before Jameson's back, with whatever authority he needs to do just what he wants. You've got to get out of here."

Buffy nods. Spike looks disbelieving. Well, I guess I would too in his shoes.

"You're helping us?"

"Look," I try to explain. "I don't like you. Never have, and I don't reckon I ever will. I know you don't deserve Buffy. But, for some reason, Buffy's chosen you, and you're the father of her child. And, I just can't let Jameson get his hands on Buffy. So, I'm going to help. I've spoken to Willow, and she's going to make sure you're met when you get to ground level. Until then, we've got to be careful."

I thrust the uniforms at him. "Get changed, and then come into my room. We've got to avoid security."

"And that," Spike points to the jammer in my hand, "means no one heard any of that?"

"Yes. It'll sound as though you've just stopped talking for a while, and so long as the listener doesn't know you too well, it should be believeable for a while." I know it's petty, but I just can't resist the dig.

He's about to make some snarky comment about that, then thinks better of it. He nods, and pulls the pile of uniform from me, grimacing in distaste.

"Yeah, well, I'm not too happy about you disgracing the uniform either, but unless you've got a better idea ..?"

He shrugs, and I turn to go. I get half way to the door, when I feel a hand on my shoulder. I turn around to find Buffy there. She holds out her arms to me, and I return the gesture, the resulting hug being awkward both emotionally and physically due to the bump.

"Thanks," she says, quietly. I just nod.

*-*-*

I was surprised when I got the call. We'd been working flat out to find a way of getting them out of that place, but we'd come up with exactly nothing of use. Getting transport to the area was simple in comparison to the other possibilities we'd considered.

Xander came up with the ideal vehicle. He seems to have a knack of having friends who have friends who can lay their hands on just about anything. The van's not too unusual, I suppose, but it can hold our whole party without difficulty, and it has the advantage of four wheel drive in case the road doesn't seem like the best way back to town. Riley seems confident that all we need to do is be there, but I've got to say that just seems too easy.

Anya's been keeping an eye on the area anyway, but she hasn't been able to do much more, and her other duties mean she's been absent a lot of the time too.

It's obvious that Jacob and Rebecca won't be much help in the rescue, so I persuade them to get back to research. Anything, from either their world or ours, that gives us an advantage over whatever group has been masterminding the attacks on Dawn, is going to be needed.

We spend the little time we've got available stocking up on weapons and supplies for any magic Jenna and I might have to use. Between us we've got a pretty fair arsenal of possibilities, and I'm feeling quietly confident.

Riley's specified where we should wait, out of range of the local surveillance, and he's told us to listen for a small explosion. He hasn't told us any more about what he's got in mind. Well, we can do that. But we can do more. Once we're in position we can keep trying to trace Buffy. The place she's in seems to be heavily shielded, but, once she's outside …

In many respects, it's once she's outside that the problems really start. I contacted Dr. Chan. I don't know what's happened to Buffy while she's been held, but I know Buffy will want to be checked over as soon as possible. To my surprise, Dr. Chan has what seems like the ideal place for us to go to after we've got Buffy. I must remember to ask Anya if she knew Dr. Chan was so busy.

Chapter 37 - Climbing

Now, I didn't expect that. Captain Cardboard trying to help? No, didn't even occur to me. I'm surprised to see that Buffy's not surprised. She's just accepting what he says.

I knew we had a problem. We'd already gone round the room again, and found some extra microphones and cameras, and we'd done what we could, but we still waited until we were in the shower before we discussed it. As far as getting out of here is concerned, the best we came up with was overpowering our next visitors and making a run for it. I'm not sure Finn's actually offering us better odds, but Buffy seems convinced.

We change, and I have to say, I could actually wish I was still among the ranks of the undead. This is one occasion when I'd be glad not to have a reflection. I mean, me? In a uniform? And a ruddy American one at that! Still, Buffy's worth it, her and the Bit, and I can't think of anything else that would be.

Buffy's uniform is more of a problem. The trousers are too long, and we've got to do some pretty quick 'repairs' to let her walk without tripping over them. Never realised chewing gum could be so useful.

When we're both dressed, something we've accomplished while trying to sound like we're not about to attempt to escape, we go to the door. Once we're through, Finn goes straight to his own door to the corridor, taking a look outside, then doing something with the device he showed us, before gesturing to us to follow him.

He walks, apparently unconcerned, past surveillance cameras, and we follow, Buffy next to him, while I take the rear. He keeps his, I don't know, jamming device, in his hand, so I suppose he knows what he's doing.

After a couple of minutes, he opens a door, which I'm surprised to see seems to be a cupboard. Once inside, he closes the door behind us, then turns to face us.

"Listen," he starts, "Westgate's managed to minimise security on this floor, but we've got to assume the rest of the complex is at full strength. There's an air vent which leads from here, to the top operational level. We're going to have to climb about seven floors - I'm not sure how far that is, the design details of this place are classified. The only reason I know about the vents is that it's the same system the Initiative used. I suppose there're only so many ways to get fresh air into an underground building."

"Ok, so we get to the top level," I ask, "and we're home free, right?"

I can't help but think its all sounding a bit too easy.

"Well, not quite. Once we're there, we can get to ground level, but the vents there can't be removed with a screwdriver. I've got that covered, but it'll be noisy. Once we're outside, all we'll have going for us is speed. There'll be security on the ground, and by definition, it's covert. I don't know if Westgate's been able to do anything about it."

"Why's Westgate helping at all?" I ask. I mean, it's hard enough to believe that Finn is helping, without believing he's having help too.

"I don't really know. Maybe he just doesn't like Jameson. Let's just get you out of here, then we'll worry about why."

I'm still not happy, and can't help but wonder if it's not just an elaborate plan to kill us both, but I've run out of options.

"Are you ok to climb?" I ask Buffy.

She's looking paler than recently, and I touch her cheek while waiting for her answer. Truth is, I'd carry her if she'd let me, but she's an independent chit.

"I'll be fine," she says, softly, but there's just a hint of doubt in her eyes.

"What is it? " I ask. She's got me worried now. ""Nothing, just a twinge," she answers, wiping the doubt off her face. I try to put an arm around her, but she shrugs it off.

Finn hasn't taken any notice of our exchange, as he'd been busy removing the cover to the vent. He leads the way, and Buffy follows. I go behind her, and re-fit the vent as well as I can.

The climb begins, and Buffy seems ok. It seems as though she's trying hard to keep calm, and I'm finding it difficult to read how she's really feeling.

It's a long climb. I can hear Finn panting above me, and I'm pretty sure Buffy's heartbeat's faster than I'd normally expect, but the overlay of the baby's makes it difficult to pick out. At last, we reach the top of the climb, and find ourselves in a horizontal vent. We crawl along for about fifty yards, before Finn stops at the base of another ladder.

I close the gap between Buffy and me, and as I come up behind her, I know there's something wrong. She's rocking back and forth on her hands and knees.

"Buffy?" I whisper.

I put a hand on her back, but she doesn't answer. Finn seems to have noticed something at last, and he backs up towards us.

"What's up?" he asks.

"Labour," I answer with a certainty that causes a gamut of conflicting emotions in me. I can feel Finn's embarrassment, almost as if his reddening complexion is warming the atmosphere, but it's much more complex than that. Immediately after that, I feel his rising panic that actually matches my own feelings better than I'd like to admit. Buffy, on the other hand, seems calm even though she's obviously in pain.

After a short while, Buffy's motion stops, and she's breathing deeply. I keep my hand on her back, hoping that the circular movements are comforting, and I speak to Finn.

"How much further?" I ask.

"Not far, but this is the hard part. I've got a small explosive charge which should blow the cover, and I can detonate it remotely. How long have we got before the next contraction?"

"Don't know," Buffy answers. "Let's just get on with it."

I nod my agreement, and Finn scuttles back to the next ladder.

He's back in a couple of minutes - time I've spent irritating Buffy with my concern for her.

"Ok?" Finn asks.

"Get on with it," Buffy decides to vent her irritation with me at Finn. I can't help smiling.

A second later, there's a small, muffled explosion followed by a great deal of dust falling from above. When we're over the worst of that, Finn makes for the ladder, and we follow.

When I poke my head out at the top of the ladder, I spot Finn and Buffy hiding behind a scrubby bush not far from the outlet. I make for them, instinctively keeping low. Seconds later, a van appears, doors open, Willow just visible through the door.

For a second I wonder why Buffy hasn't moved, then I realise that she's caught up in another contraction. This time, I don't think, I just lift her and run. Finn runs along behind me. I've just about covered the thirty or so yards to the van when I hear the first shots. I thrust Buffy up into the Giles' waiting arms in the van. I look around and see Finn, lying ten yards away, blood seeping through his clothing.

I hesitate for a fraction of a second, then make up my mind. I run back to the prone figure, reaching him before the first bullet hits me. I grit my teeth, trying to ignore the pain in my stomach. I hoist Finn over my shoulder and run. I know I've been hit again, but the knowledge that we're so close to safety gives me all the impetus I need to throw myself those last few feet. I feel hands pulling me further into the van as it skids off away from the gunfire.

My heart is hammering in my chest as I drive. It's another one of those funny things that's left over from my 'military' experience. I'm driving and I know I'm doing my best to avoid pursuit. I'm glad Willow and Jenna managed some mojo on the van, because if they hadn't, I reckon it'd be riddled with holes by now. As it is, we've got two men in that state, and a woman in labour in the back of the van instead.

When I'm reasonably sure we're not being followed, I head into town, and out the other side. Willow tells me she's done a glamour on the van, so it doesn't still match any description that's been circulated. I'm really glad she's on our side.

Now, I've just got to find my way to Dr. Chan. After Willow got the call from Riley, she contacted the good doctor. I think she was thinking in terms of getting Buffy checked out after her ordeal, but it looks like the need is rather more urgent than that.

I've tried to see what's happening in the back a couple of times, but I just get yelled at to keep my eyes on the road. I know Willow's busy, and I've had quite a few demands to keep the van steady, but sometimes you can have fast and sneaky, or you can have steady, and I'm going for fast and sneaky.

The directions Dr. Chan gave us take us out of town of a road that's obviously not often used. The house, when we get there, seems too small to accommodate our group, let alone the others we've been told are there. A number of - I don't know - demons, I suppose, file out of the house, and within moments, Buffy and the wounded are unloaded and taken inside. Another one, and I'd swear he's a relative of Clem, has taken the keys to the van, insisting that he needs to hide it. I follow everyone inside, and I'm in for another surprise.

The single-roomed shack is a cover for something rather larger. No, it's not on the scale of the Initiative, or the Defenders, but it's surprising, just the same. Now's not the time for questions, though. Dr. Chan meets us with a worried look as Buffy is helped down into the basement where there's a makeshift surgery She's closely following whoever's carrying an unconscious Spike, and holding onto Giles for support. The doctor was expecting Buffy, and I suppose the others are not really in her line. Despite that, she's soon shouting orders and two further makeshift beds appear, and the wounded are laid on them. Willow takes that as her cue, and approaches Riley. I can see Buffy's reaction to that, and she's obviously not happy, but logically, Riley's the more likely to die from a gunshot wound.

I won't even pretend to understand what she does then. Even Jenna looks impressed, but then again, that could be worried. She's removed the bullet from Riley's back, and then left the good doctor's army of helpers to dress the remaining wound, small as it is.

Buffy refused to lie down, hovering instead over Spike. Once she's assured herself that Willow was dealing with the others, Dr. Chan started trying to check Buffy over, although that can't be easy when Buffy won't sit down. As Willow approaches Spike's bed, Buffy is forced to bend over the bed for support as another contraction overtakes her. The doctor gives up on the examination, and places a hand on Buffy's back.

"How long between contractions?" she asks. Buffy doesn't answer, but Giles does.

"That's three minutes," he says, checking his watch.

"Ok, Buffy, as soon as this contraction passes, I'm going to get you into bed. I want to see how far along you are. Your friend seems to know what she's doing, although I have to admit I haven't got a clue. She'll see to Spike. You've got to concentrate on you and the baby."

As the contraction passes, Buffy is dragged reluctantly away from Spike. Willow continues her work, and after a few minutes, she has finished. Spike's obviously lost quite a lot of blood, and I notice that someone is setting up a transfusion for Riley.

Once that's done, they go to Spike, ready to do the same thing. I realise that's not the best way to get blood into him, and tell them so.

"He'd be better drinking it," I offer.

They look up at me in surprise. One calls over to the doctor, who takes one glance at me and tells them to do as I ask. With what I assume is a shrug of the shoulder, I'm handed a blood bag. Well, I understand body language as well as the next man, but I don't speak demon.

Now, it's all very well knowing that he can drink it, but it's another to get the blood into him. I remember how Buffy did it last time, and do I have to comment on how often it seems someone is having to save Spike's life? I find some scissors and cut open a corner of the bag, allowing a small amount of blood to trickle onto my finger. As if that's not bad enough, I then offer said finger to the ex-vampire on the bed. Visions of my hand, minus a finger flit across my mind. Now, why did I have to remember his previous status right now? Probably because, emotionally, to me, that's what he'll always be.

After a few seconds, his mouth moves around my finger, his tongue rough as it removes every last bit. I repeat the exercise, and by the time he's had a half-dozen fingersfull, he's opening his eyes. That's enough for me. I motion to one of my surprised-looking spectators, and they help me to pull him to a sitting position. He downs the rest of the bag under his own steam in less time than I'd have believed possible. When it's empty, his face changes. No, it's not a vampire type change, just the change from semi-consciousness to full consciousness. As soon as it's complete, he's off the bed, gasping as the pain from a couple of bullet holes makes itself known.

"Buffy?" he asks, and I point over to the other bed where she's being examined. There's a makeshift screen been pulled around the bed, but that's not going to stop the expectant father. Giles is standing just my side of the screens, so I join him.

"How's she doing?" I ask.

"I have no idea," Giles replies. "I've studied a great many things, from science, and languages to literature, to say nothing of the arcane, but the mechanics of childbirth is one subject I'm afraid to say, about which I know next to nothing."

So, there is a subject on which I have more knowledge than Giles. I always thought there'd be one that didn't involve television in some way. Not that I'm an expert, of course, but I've done the human biology at school. Not that I routinely paid that much attention in biology class, but that part, following on so quickly after sex education, well that's pretty much ingrained on my mind. And does watching a video mean that it's also something that involves watching TV?

After a few minutes, the screens are parted, and Buffy is revealed, sitting on a bed, apparently well, and with Spike beside her, holding her hand. She's looking relieved.

"Well?" I ask.

"Everything's going as it should, and the baby should be born fairly soon," she answers, before her expression changes and I can see that another contraction has hit her.

The doctor then goes to check on Riley. She seems happy with what she's seen, so I ask her about this place.

"It's a medical school," she answers.

Now, I didn't expect to hear that.

"Local demons need to be able to have treatment for injury just like humans do. Unfortunately, local hospitals won't admit them. I started treating a few who had human-like physiology, but soon that wasn't enough. I managed to put together a group of the most knowledgeable of the non-aggressive species in the area, and we set up this place, to teach others how to treat the injured. It's grown over the few years since I started it, and I've been able to put together a team that can treat most eventualities. I came here when my office was raided so I didn't have to let down my most vulnerable patients. Of course, the completely human have alternative recourse to treatment. Others don't. After the raid, we've instituted a security system of sorts. It pretty much involves having all the roads in the area watched, but it's the best we can do."

The way she describes it, it's so simple, so obvious, that I can't help but wonder why I never considered the existence of medical facilities for demons before now. I guess I'm still learning just how complex the creatures I'd always dismissed as 'demons' really are.

The screens around Buffy have been re-instated, and Giles and I spot Jenna waiting just outside the main room. We go to join her, and I'm hit with a strange sort of déjà vu.

You know the old films, where the husband is banished out of the ward while his wife is having the baby - well, that's how I feel. Not that I really want to be in there - she's not my partner, and it's not my child, and eughhh. I remember enough of the video we saw to convince me I don't want to be there.

After a couple of minutes, Willow stops hovering too and joins us. There are some chairs - I suppose it's intended as a waiting room, and we sit there in a row, waiting to hear the news. Within a few moments, Willow's head is on my shoulder, and she's falling asleep. I guess bullet removal must be pretty exhausting.

I never knew it would hurt so much. I mean, you see it on TV, a woman in labour, her pain and the sheer physical effort she has to put in to produce a healthy child, but it's only when it's important to you that you realise the full extent of it.

Buffy's used to pain. I mean, she's been the Slayer since before her sixteenth birthday. Pain's pretty much part of a Slayer's life - she's taken punches that'd result in pretty heavy damage to a normal girl, and come up fighting. But this is different. I realise that I've never seen her in pain before - not physical pain. The doctor's given it her best shot and tried something that she thinks might give Buffy some relief without harming the child, but, without really understanding Buffy's physiology, she's only guessing.

Despite that, Buffy's doing well. Maybe it's harder to see someone you love in pain than to actually experience it - especially if you know that it's not going to go on forever. She's even made a few jokes during her brief periods of respite between contractions. The jokes are aimed at the doctor, not at me, of course. I'm just the butt of them. But then I read somewhere that a woman in labour sometimes blames the child's father for her pain (which seems reasonable enough), and therefore gives him a hard time. She can do what she likes to me right now- even beat me to a bloody pulp if she could do it and it made her feel even slightly better. She's not going to, though - she's totally involved in what's happening to her.

The doctor seems to think that it won't be long - her waters broke a while ago. Said something about Buffy being lucky - that first time labours can go on for a very long time. Everything about this pregnancy has been done at high speed - so I suppose it's only fitting that it should end quickly too.

I've tried everything that either Buffy or the doctor have suggested in order to ease things for her. I've rubbed her back and held her hand - or more correctly, allowed her to hold my hand so tight that I had a lovely set of bleeding nail imprints on my palm, but it seems I'm not doing it right.

I'm going to be a father. Somehow, that simple fact manages to eclipse, at least for now, the events of recent days and weeks. The danger we're in is as great as it ever was, but I can't give that any thought. I heard some mutterings about security as I came around, and I just hope it's enough to allow the baby to be born safely. After that, I'll start thinking about the next step.

The others all disappeared after a while, but Willow's come back again. She's just the other side of the screens, realising, I think, that this is a kind of private thing. She wants to help, but, for once, she doesn't know how. She made a pretty good job of fixing me up - I'm hardly aware of the two bullet wounds I had a short while ago. I idly wonder how Finn's doing. Not that I care about him, it's just, well, his crazy plan worked, so I guess I sort of owe him.

Another contraction, and Buffy's decided to have another go at being on her hands and knees. I take up position behind her and rub her back as the doctor suggests, and this time, it seems I've got it right. She's moving towards my hands rather than trying to buck them off, so maybe it's helping a little.

When the contraction's over, the doctor suggests an internal exam to check progress. It takes only a couple of minutes, and from what she says, Buffy's fully dilated, so we're really in the last straight now.

The next contraction hits almost as soon as the internal's over. This one is different. Well, Buffy's screaming at me, and her language is a very colourful mixture of less-than-ladylike language from both sides of the Atlantic. I guess she pays more attention to my swearing than I'd realised.

I remember reading about this, too. It's called 'transition', and it's often the part of labour where the mother decides that she doesn't really want a baby and should just go home after all. The next step should be for Buffy to start pushing the baby out.

That thought leads, naturally enough, to a mental picture of me holding my daughter. For a fraction of a second, I go through a transition of my own, and I feel this overpowering urge to run. The responsibility of fatherhood just seems so huge - so overwhelming - and so much like something I need to avoid.

That thought is over almost before I can put it into words. I wouldn't be anywhere in the world other than here right now. Yeah, I could wish that we weren't in a makeshift hospital in the middle of nowhere with one doctor and a crowd, of what I assume, are enthusiastic amateurs to help. But, the only place I want to be is where Buffy is, so I suppose the detail will just have to be accepted.

I need a cigarette. I've hardly smoked since I got this shiny new body - just haven't felt the same need - but right now, I need one. I'm unconsciously feeling in my pockets for the pack I know isn't there. And even if I could find one, it's not likely that I could smoke it anyway, so it's a futile exercise, but I need to do something with my hands.

Another contraction, and Buffy's pushing. Another fact from the books I read - when it's time, she won't be able to stop herself from pushing. Her expression's different, too. She's lost that angry look, she knows exactly what's happening, and she's working with it.

I'm holding her hand again. I can feel her nails sink into the partially healed wounds from last time, but I don't feel any pain. I whispering to her - I hardly know what the words are, I just need her to know that I'm here, that I'm not going anywhere.

It goes on and on. At least, it seems like that. Buffy's tired now. I can see it in her face - she's so tired, but she's still doing everything she can. We saw the baby's head during the last couple of contractions, so it won't be long. I feel the pressure on my hand increase again, and I know she's going for it this time. She's pushing, and pushing, and the doctor's shouting instructions I can't understand. With a squelching sound that sounds completely out of place here, I see her, finally emerging into the world. Then, things no longer make any sense. I can't understand what's happening. The baby should be crying, shouldn't she? We should hear her, but the doctor's back is to us, and she's not saying anything, but her hands are busy. I realise I've stopped breathing. I can hear nothing, until Buffy starts to demand to know what's going on. I can't help her, I don't know myself.

The doctor's smiling then, as she turns towards us. Before the significance of the smile can fully sink into my bewildered mind, I hear it - the most beautiful sound in the world - my daughter's cry.

I vaguely realise that the screen's been moved and someone's come in, but I don't pay any attention.

The baby's deposited in Buffy's arms while we wait for the placenta to be delivered. I sit as close to Buffy as I can get, staring at the small bundle in her arms. She's already rooting, looking for something to fill her small rosebud of a mouth, and Buffy looks to the doctor for advice.

"You were planning on breast-feeding, weren't you?" she asks.

To Buffy's affirmative, she adds, "Well, now's as good a time to start as any. It'll help with the expulsion of the afterbirth, and with getting your figure back."

Buffy nods, and starts to try to unbutton her clothes, but there're too many buttons on that stupid uniform. The bottom half was shed a long time ago, but the shirt still remains. I hold out my arms, and she hands me my daughter.

I'd stood up to take the baby, but I'm immediately glad there's a chair behind me. I fall back into it as my legs seem to turn to jelly. My daughter.

Suddenly Willow's there too, staring at the baby, gasping at something she's noticed. I don't say anything, I just stare at Zara. I wonder at the fact that she's blurred, and then realise there's a film of water forming in my eyes.

She seems to know I'm not a source of food, because she's not looking for any. She's just looking up into my eyes, and I'd swear I see recognition. I know, it'll be weeks before she can even focus, but I'd swear she looks at me with recognition.

Buffy's ready, so I hand her back, already missing the tiny presence in my arms.

Buffy has a couple of false starts before Zara takes over and shows her how it's done. At least, that's how it looked to me. She's now sucking happily, her eyes closing and her whole body rapt in concentration.

Willow mutters something about going to tell the others.

"How much did she weigh?" Buffy asks.

I'm stupid. Of course, that's one of the things that were happening. And why didn't I think to ask that?

"Eight pounds four - pretty big for a first baby," she replies.

"And looking to grow bigger," I comment, looking at the way she's feeding.

Buffy smiles at me. That's all it takes. One smile, and the watery film in my eyes overflows and tears start to roll down my cheeks.

Before long, I'm handed a now sleeping Zara, so that Buffy can get cleaned up. By the sounds from the other side of the screen, she's got visitors. I suppose I could go and show off my daughter, but I'm not sure I trust myself to walk and carry her at the same time. Harry Potter's jelly-legs curse has nothing on how I'm feeling right now. And then, there's no way I want to leave Buffy. Not now, not ever.

I'm a father. The words wander through my mind in the hope that continued repetition might make it seem real. Even the warm bundle in my arms doesn’t help that. I'm a father.

I think of my own father - a man I hardly knew. I can't imagine him sitting holding his new-born son as I'm doing for Zara, but then, men didn't get involved with children- not until they could hold a conversation at least. I'm so glad I've got this chance now. If I'd lived, and found someone in my own time, that'd have been my own experience of being a father. This way - I've go so much more.

Buffy's clean, and she's scooted over in the bed to make room for me. I climb on beside her, returning Zara to her mother's arms. Within minutes, we're surrounded. Willow and Jenna are there, and Giles and Xander. They're all cooing and exclaiming with various levels of enthusiasm.

Suddenly, there's a shout - I don't catch the words, but the tension and fear in the tone are obvious.

"It's them - they've been spotted on the road, about a mile away. We've got to evacuate."

All the lethargy I'd been experiencing as I contemplated my daughter and her mother is gone instantly, as I stand up. Buffy hands Zara to me, and gets to her feet. She's wearing some sort of surgical pyjama things, and she pushes her feet into her shoes. Dr. Chan doesn't object.

"You've got to get out of here," she insists. "Can you walk a short distance?"

Buffy nods.

"Follow Jake there," she points to a demon who looks to be a close relative of Clem. "He'll get you to your van. Get out of here. Wherever you go, take care," she adds, turning to go and check on Riley, who's still unconscious.

We do as she asked. I'm carrying Zara, and Xander and Giles have Buffy supported between them.

Within minutes, we're in the van, and Xander is pulling out of the hiding place. The last words of our guide are ringing in my ears.

"You should have a couple of minutes. The road here's pretty rough. Just head cross country. Avoid roads for a bit. We'll sweep out your tracks once you've gone."

"No need," Willow countered. "I'll see to that as we go."

Once we're all in the van, I notice that Jenna's got a bag I don't recognise.

"Things for the baby," someone said.

I open it, and find, as she said, some things for the baby. A couple of basic sleep-suits, and half a dozen nappies. Not going to keep us going for long.

The happiest day of my life, and it's been ruined by some stupid pseudo-military outfit. If I ever get my hands on the person responsible for all this, I swear I'll kill them, taking my time over every detail.

My arm's around Buffy's shoulders, and I feel them shaking as tears overwhelm her. It's not fair. It's just not fair. We've got to do something - I'm not going to spend my daughter's life on the run. There's go tot be somewhere we can go - somewhere we'd be safe, but right now, I'm out of options.

It's Jenna who has the idea. We've been driving for hours, keeping to back roads, and Willow's changed the glamour on the van regularly so that there's no continuity of recognition. When we finally stop, we're in the desert somewhere. We did stop off at a Wal-Mart - or at least Jenna got out and we picked her up later. Since she's the least likely to be recognised, she got the job of picking up some more basic supplies.

It's dark, and I'm sitting, with my back to a large rock, with Zara in my arms, nursing her. Spike's close, watching, almost hypnotised by the sight. He's absent-mindedly rubbing his palm, and I take his hand and look, embarrassed to see the healing marks where my fingernails did their best to cut his hands to ribbons.

He just shrugs, letting me know in a gesture that it's not important. Jenna approaches.

"I've been onto the coven, and they've agreed to help, if you agree."

I look up, not sure what she's suggesting.

"I'd have thought that the kind of mojo that'd get these Defenders off our backs might be a bit dark for your lot," Spike comments.

"We can't help with that, at least, not right away."

"Well, what then?" I ask.

"They've agreed to grant you sanctuary."

"Who?" I ask.

"All three of you. The coven's in a large estate in Devon in the south-west of England. There's a cottage in the grounds, not far from the main buildings. We can protect you there, keep you safe until things are better here."

"Not sure I like the idea of running," Spike complains.

I squeeze his hand. I know what he means. I'm the Slayer, and I don't run from a fight. But, this is different. Zara's the priority, and Spike or me feeling a bit put out is beside the point.

"Ok," I answer Jenna. "But how're we going to get there? They're bound to be watching airports."

"I've got agreement that we can teleport. The four of us. The energy usage is going to be huge, but the whole coven's agreed."

"Is it safe?" I ask.

"Nothing's guaranteed" she admits, "but it should be fine. And, it's safer than any other option you've got."

There's a pause then, before she adds, "There's one other thing. I'd be better, safer, if your friends didn't know where you are. If they agree, I'd like to alter their memories. They'll remember dropping you off at a small town somewhere."

She can see the hesitation on our faces, so she adds, "I'll leave you to talk about it."

I nod, and she leaves us, approaching Giles, I assume, to describe her plan.

There's a long silence, broken only by the sounds of our daughter feeding.

"We've got to do it," Spike says at last.

"I know, but .."

"Yeah," he agrees.

"I know Zara wasn't exactly planned, but once I knew about her, I imagined taking her home, to my home, spending time with my friends, her growing up with them around. This is .."

"Different," he finishes.

Zara's fallen asleep again while we were talking. I place her in the sleep bag Jenna got for her, and get up. Leaving Spike to watch her, I go to Jenna.

"We're going to take you up on your offer," I tell her. "Just give me a few minutes to say goodbye."

She nods, and immediately sets about preparing for her end of the teleport.

How do I say goodbye to these people? They've been a part of my life since, well, it seems like forever ago. The news of the plan has obviously been shared. Giles is cleaning his glasses, Xander's eyes are strangely glazed, and Willow's openly crying.

I go to Xander first. "Say goodbye to Anya for me," I manage through the lump in my throat.

He nods, pulling me into a rough hug. Then I turn to Willow.

"Look after him," I ask, knowing that these two have been looking after each other for as long as they've been friends.

"I'll keep with the research," Willow offers. "Anything we can find out, we'll find it. Sooner or later, we'll find a way to stop the Defenders, or Blar or whoever we need to stop. You'll be home in no time."

She just managed that before the sobs overtook her. I can't watch her any more, or I'll start too. I turn to Giles.

"Take care, Buffy. As Willow said, we'll do all we can here. Hopefully it won't be long until you come home."

He's standing there so straight. It's no good, I've got to hug him. I do, and he responds, awkwardly at first, but then getting into it.

I drop my arms, then give Willow a hug too. When I turn, Spike's behind me, a sleeping Zara in his arms. He obviously doesn't know how to react, so I'm relieved when Giles holds out a hand to him. Spike shakes it, and finds that Xander's offering his hand too. When that hand-shake is over, Willow throws her arms round his neck, hugging him tight.

He looks embarrassed at the gesture, but I can see he's also pleased.

"Look after them," Giles demands.

"I will," Spike promises, putting his arm around my shoulders.

Jenna interrupts just in time - things are threatening to get mushier.

"I'm ready," she tells us.

"Where do you want us?" Spike asks.

We're arranged to Jenna's satisfaction. Zara's in Spike's arms, and he and I are standing face to face. I'm holding onto him. It seems familiar, like the position we were in when we had to say goodbye to Dawn. And, I so didn't need to remember that right now. Jenna comes alongside us, putting an arm around both of us.

"The spell will actually come from the coven," she tells us. "They're using me as the target. You'll feel a tugging, then a lot of wind. Just hold on to each other, and you'll be fine."

We do that, holding on tight. I look down at my daughter, impressed that she can sleep through something so momentous. I raise my eyes, and find Spike's blue ones staring at me.

"Ready, Love?" he asks.

"As long as we're together," I answer him, pleased to note the small smile this comment elicits.

As Jenna predicted, we're suddenly enveloped in a wind, and then there's a tugging feeling. Everything goes black.