Title: Seeds of Doubt (Part Three - The Evil Within) Author: Nimue Rating: PG -13 Pairing Buffy/Spike. Most major characters included. Feedback: Yes, please Disclaimer: All characters belong to Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, UPN, Fox... Just Borrowing. (with, of course, the exception of Emma, who belongs to Buffy and Spike) Summary: Buffy is haunted by a nagging concern for her family's safety. Spike discusses worst case scenarios and making choices he'd not want to make. Quentin launches his plan. Dawn is caught in the middle of an incident that will change them all.

Seeds of Doubt

"So, what is it, Spike? Do you know?" Buffy asked, looking up at him as they walked through the cemetery. It had been a quiet night on patrol. A fledgling vamp that Buffy dusted without breaking stride. No other nasty had shown its face.

"Wish I did, Pet," Spike answered. "Thought it was just me."

"You?" Buffy asked. "You what?"

"Thought I was being overly protective is all," he blurted in a rare moment of shy embarrassment. "Find myself constantly worried about what could happen to her. To you."

"Constantly?" Buffy asked, her brow furrowed.

"Alright. All too often."

"You know I can hold my own, Spike."

"I know that better than anyone, Love," he answered, flashing a brief smile which she returned warmly. "But I also know that love can make you as weak as it can strong."

"What do you mean?" His pace slowed until finally he paused, taking her hands in his. She backed her against a granite stone, lifting her to sit on its smooth, cold surface. His fingers wound through hers. She could feel his troubled thoughts like a torrent in her own mind.

"Sometimes when you love someone, you do stupid things. Dangerous things. To protect them. To save them from hurt. May seem valiant and noble at the time, but it doesn't change that they're not the best course of action."

"Not sure I'm with the understanding," Buffy said, crinkling her nose. Spike sighed, frustrated, not with her but rather because his words failed him. It was not a concept with which he was used to grappling. It wasn't often he couldn't express himself.

"Buffy." Her name came out more as a sigh than a word. "If anything happens.... If you ever have to make a choice.... If something happens to me again, you have to know when to stop. When to let go. It's something you've yet to learn."

"I wouldn't just leave you. Not try," Buffy answered. "First of all, it's my *job*. All that saving the world Chosen One stuff. But more than that..."

"Your *job*," Spike interrupted, "is to protect Emma. To be her mum. If something happens and you have to make a choice, you *need* to remember that."

Buffy was silent, weighing it in her mind. "Spike, do you know something? I mean... Have you talked to Giles?"

"No, Love. Nothing like that," he answered, brushing her hair from her face with the back of his hand. Studying her for the millionth time and still finding something he'd never noticed. "We just need to remember, that's all."

"You know," she began, "it goes for you too. If saving me, or trying to, seems more dangerous than not, you have to stay with her."

"Let's hope we never have to make that choice," Spike said softly, leaning in and letting his lips brush hers.

"We won't," she whispered as his face moved from hers. "They couldn't do it before the whole One thing. No one has a chance now."

Spike smiled at her, knowing that she wanted to believe it, but had been through enough to know that there was always a way. They'd said enough for now. "Pretty quiet night," he commented, gazing round the unusually calm cemetery. It seemed that only the two of them were sharing the night with the moon and the stars.

"Wanna call it quits?" Buffy asked, looking up into his deep blue eyes, not really wanting to go home just yet.

"Might as well walk a while longer," Spike answered, lifting her back to her feet. "Nice night and all."

"Yeah," Buffy said quietly, letting him take her hand and lead her back to the path. "Not too often we get a quiet night."

*****

Most of the lights were off when the reached the house on Revello. Buffy opened the door as quietly as she could, the hiss of the wooden door on the throw rug sounding like a scream against the silence of the house. Spike crept in behind her, closing the door with a subtle click.

Willow and Tara were asleep on the couch, books strewn across the coffee table and spilling onto the floor. It looked as if Xander and Anya had opted for their own apartment. Buffy grabbed a blanket from the hall closet and walked to the women, spreading it over their curled forms as Spike made his way upstairs soundlessly. Amazing how he could do that, Buffy thought. Especially with boots on.

She found him leaned against the doorframe to Emma's room. Watching. Buffy sidled up beside him, peeking in from around his crossed arms. The lamp filled the room with a hazy, surreal glow, but there was no sound save for the rhythmic rise and fall of breath.

Dawn was asleep in the recliner; Emma sprawled in her lap, a storybook dangling precariously from the edge of the chair. Whatever the teen's shortcomings had been, she'd done a lot of growing up in the last two years. With Emma, she was a pro. She never whined about helping. Never complained about the attention that the baby garnered from everyone. Dawn loved her, and loving her made it all right.

"You get the Mite, I'll see to Niblet," Spike whispered, nudging Buffy's arm. Buffy nodded in reply, tiptoeing into the room and lifting the soundly sleeping tot from Dawn's lap. "With us?" Spike asked as Buffy brushed past. Buffy looked at the little girl, her blonde ringlets falling loosely over her face.

"Yeah," Buffy answered, holding Emma close, not wanting to let her go. Spike leaned down, sliding an arm under Dawn's knees and one under her back, lifting her against his chest. Like the rest of them, she slept like a log and barely moved as Spike carried her to her room, laying her gently on her bed and covering her as if she were as much his own as Emma. He smoothed her dark hair from her face.

"Night Nibs," he whispered, closing the door and heading back to the hall.

Emma was tucked under a blanket in the middle of the bed when Spike returned. Buffy was slouched on the edge, tossing her shoes and socks into the corner. He could sense her doubt. Feel her being haunted by the what ifs. The whens. As domestic as life had seemingly become, as normal an existence as they had created for the sake of their daughter, there was always the question of when. When would it all be shattered?

The paper sacks he'd carried into the Magic Box were sitting just inside the door. Tara had done as he asked, bringing them here and putting them away. Spike reached inside, pulling out a small package. Rose tissue wrapping tied with a gold ribbon. Nothing spectacular. The good stuff could wait.

He settled down on the bed next to her, catching her attention. The way she looked at him. She had a thousand different looks all captured in two pretty green eyes. This one was worry, fatigue, passion, fear, and love.

"For you," he said quietly, handing her the tidy package.

Buffy looked at him curiously. "Why? What's wrong?"

"It's called a gift," Spike answered, smirking at her. "Don't get your hopes high, Pet. It was your idea."

Buffy carefully untied the ribbon, setting it on the table, and unfolded the tissue. A little pleased gasp escaped her lips as she pulled the straps up, holding the pale pink nightie in front of her. It was beautiful. Simple. Short, but not too short. Little spaghetti straps. Lace in all the right places.

"This for me or for you?" she snarked, raising an eyebrow at him. A talent she'd discovered not long after the psychic lovin' trick.

"Don't think the colour suits me, Love," he shot back. Buffy giggled. "You said we had to look into pajamas. I have the blue ones from the night.. well, no need to rehash old wounds. Anyway, you're the one that thought we needed to wear *clothes* to bed," he babbled.

"I was thinking more along the lines of flannel... with feet," she answered, standing and undressing. She slid the exquisite silk over her head. Spike grabbed the bottom, tugging it over her perfect body as if dressing a living doll. His hands rested on her hips, pulling her to him.

"You look beautiful," Spike said, looking up into her pretty eyes.

"Thank you. I love it," she said softly, her hands clasping over his.

"Much better than footed flannel," he purred, his hands running down the silk, then drifting off to her legs, sliding down to her knees and trailing slowly back up.

"Much," she agreed, leaning her forehead to his. As soon as her head rested, she felt the wave of exhaustion crash into her. Spike pulled her face up with his hand.

"Go to bed," he whispered, pulling her down next to him. "I need a shower."

"Umhum," Buffy muttered, sinking into the sheets and closing her eyes. Spike smiled. He couldn't help but think that two of the most beautiful girls he'd seen were his.

*****

Quentin sat on the old velvet chair, watching, an amused smile on his face. Lenora was in the center of the Eyes of the Fates, surrounded by candles. Her blind eyes were glowing, tearing blood. Sweat poured from the sorceress's brow as she clutched the silver token, chanting, screaming, roaring. Quentin crossed his legs, leaning back, sipping his scotch as if watching Masterpiece Theatre. The sound of Lenora's screaming and chanting was merely a whisper in the breeze.

The haggard witch finally crumpled, the candles all flickering into nothingness. The symbol under her rose from the floor, swirling around her, spinning, then bursting into the air in specks as light as dust. The witch wretched, coughing, clutching at the bare floor.

"Well?" Quentin asked.

"The One is indeed impenetrable. The connection is beyond this plane," Lenora croaked, her voice sounding like footsteps on rotted stairs.

"And the rest?"

"The spell is indiscriminate and transient," she answered, lifting her bloodied face to look at the man. "I cannot crack the wall, but I can put a serpent in Eden."

Quentin smiled. A cracked, wicked smile. "Who is my little snake?" He hissed, leaning forward towards the fallen witch.

"The Star may fall at the hands of one among them, but, Draconius, knowing which is danger."

The anger in Quentin's voice was palpable. "What do you mean, *Witch*?"

"Speak the name of the serpent, *think* the name, and the One will know. The One will quell the uprising. The Chariot will be unleashed upon us. It is best if the serpent lies in the shadows until the moment is upon us."

"Then how will I know who to aid?" Quentin asked, deciding to accept the old woman's ramblings.

"They will know," Lenora croaked.

"When?"

"The Blood Moon," Lenora answered. "Mind you Draconius, if the One discovers the enemy among them, the spell is returned three fold."

"Then it is best that they never find out," Quentin said, standing, smiling.

"Leave me, fiend. And ask no more from the darkness until thee have paid thine debts," Lenora hissed, her eyes glowing red.

"Demon Witch, you cannot frighten me," Quentin responded, pushing a candle with the toe of his shoe and knocking it onto the woman's hand. She hissed against the molten wax poured over her skin.

"It is not me you will pay," Lenora continued, her eyes still piercing, red globes.

Quentin regarded the crumpled form with disgust, then turned on a heel and strolled from the room.

*****

When Buffy awoke again, the world was a peaceful place. Emma was curled in a ball, Buffy curled around her, arms wrapped around the baby's chest. Spike was spooned behind her, an arm and a leg tossed over his girls.

Buffy's eyes fluttered open and she began to swim back to reality. Nine forty-two. Oops. Hope Dawn managed the breakfast thing on her own, she thought. As a senior, Buffy thought Dawn was capable of making her own funny-shaped pancakes, but she usually got up with her sister anyway.

Buffy let her eyes sink closed again as the other two breathed in almost perfect harmony on either side. No need to rush. Just sleep. Yum. Sleep.

The shrill ring of the phone blasted Buffy from the blissful state between mostly awake and one foot in dreamland. She popped up, disentangling herself from the semi human pretzel. Spike grumbled something about 'bloody technology' and pulled Emma into Buffy's spot, pulling her pillow over his head.

"H..hello?"

"Is this Buffy Summers?" A very succinct, professional, woman spoke into the phone.

"Yes," Buffy answered, trying to clear the sleep from her voice. She thought it wasn't worth correcting the woman, even though she had started to change her name on her affairs. For Emma, she justified.

"This is Mrs. Tufts. From the High School?"

"Y..yes," Buffy stuttered. If Dawn cut class, the fangy Vampire lecture was the *least* of her concerns.

"Ms. Summers, there's been an accident."

To be contd...

Eye of the Fates (Chapter 4)

"An accident?" Buffy repeated, her heart slowly sinking into her stomach. Thoughts of scolding Dawn for skipping class were now far from her mind. An accident, she repeated in her head. An accident. Dawn. The concept tore through her head like a hurricane.

Spike felt a jolt as the words left Buffy's lips. Like his mind split in two, letting Buffy's fear fill him. He tossed the pillow to the floor sitting bolt upright, listening intently as Buffy tried to speak. Emma stirred at his sudden movement, but he stroked her soft, blonde hair, settling her back to sleep.

"At the school," the intense, female voice responded. It was clear as a bell. Not the hastened speech of fear, nor the casual tones of conversation. Crisp. Concise.

"Is.. is Dawn OK?" Buffy stuttered. Spike swung his legs over the side of the bed, reaching for his jeans, changing as he listened to one side of what was a conversation he never hoped to hear.

"Yes, she seems to be alright. But she mentioned that you ... well, you might be able to shed some light on the situation." The voice fluctuated, as if it realized that its tone did not match its intent. Like it was learning as it went.

"Me?"

"Could you come by, please?" The woman said in what sounded like quiet desperation. It learned quickly.

"Uh, yeah," Buffy answered. "Sure."

"Thank you."

"I.. we'll be right there."

*****

"Did she say anything else, Pet?" Spike asked as he drove towards the school. Had to think about upgrading the vehicle. Not that they really ever drove anywhere, but the car seat didn't quite mesh with the deSoto. Even if they had managed to replace the windows.

"No," Buffy answered. "Just that there was some sort of...accident. And that Dawn told her we might be able to make sense of it." She paused for a long moment. "You sure that bringing Emma was a good idea?"

"Couldn't reach Willow and Tara. Even Harris and Anya seem to have buggered off. Can't exactly leave her alone. Safer with us anyway."

"Probably right," she agreed. "I just don't want her..."

"If it's gruesome, Pet, we can leave her with Dawn, alright?" Spike said, reaching over to touch her hand. Immediately, Buffy settled. Her heart still pounded in her chest, but she felt as if she wasn't alone. That was good today. She needed to not be alone.

"OK."

The car slowed, sliding to the curb in front of the school. It looked deserted. They got out, freeing Emma who was still mostly asleep, and headed for the double doors. The doors seemed smaller now, even though Buffy was no bigger Guess fear will do that to you, she thought.

As they walked up the long sidewalk, a voice chimed up from the parking lot to their right. "Hey. Wait up."

Willow trotted up the sidewalk, a look of confusion and concern on her pale features. Tara jogged behind her, with Xander and Anya alighting from his dinged car at the edge of the curb.

"Willow?" Buffy asked, staring oddly at the group before her.

"Buffy...hi," Willow answered "What are you doing here? I mean..."

"The school called me, and ... what are you doing here?" Buffy asked, the strangeness of the situation buzzing the back of her skull. Something wasn't right. Something.

Spike stood silent, watching them trickle up the walk, wondering, trying to fit it together in his head. There was no reason, from what the woman had told Buffy, for them to be here as well. No reason to call the cavalry. There was more to it than they knew. Still, sometimes you cannot know what you're up against until it looks you in the eye.

"They called me out of class and said you.. that they couldn't find you. I... I guess that Dawn listed us as emergency contacts," Willow answered. "I called Tara and we headed down here."

"That's strange," Anya said as she and Xander walked up to the group. "She called the Magic Box as Dawn's place of gainful employment and asked if we knew how to find you," she continued, nodding at Buffy. "She said she couldn't get in touch with her guardian."

"Ahn called me on the site and I thought we'd better come down," Xander added, an arm loosely wrapped around Anya.

"Who is they? Who is she?" Buffy asked.

"I think she said her name was Mrs. Tufts," Willow answered.

"Yes," Anya agreed. "Tufts. Hunh. Funny name."

"Was that the woman that called the house, Pet?" Spike asked, casting an uneasy glance at Buffy.

"Yeah," Buffy answered. "That's what she said."

"We should go find Dawn," Tara interrupted. "The woman said something about an accident."

Spike looked at the doors warily. "Don't think things are quite right here."

"No offense, watcher boy, but don't you think that whatever's wrong is nothing compared to getting to Dawn?" Xander huffed, walking towards the door.

"I'm just saying," Spike began, trying to control his tone, but coming off snarky none the less, "that we should not all follow your lead and be stupid sodding gits. Maybe we need to be a little careful."

"Look, *Spike*, " Xander began, approaching the Vampire, fury flushing his face.

"Xander stop," Buffy said, holding out her hand and pressing it hard to his shoulder. "Spike's right. We need to be cautious. There should be tons of kids here now and there's no one. Not to mention, this Tufts woman didn't need to call us all here, but she did. Do you know why?"

Xander stared at her, blinking. Every day she moved a little further away. Every day the dream that this... thing... with Spike was temporary and just a nightmare became less and less real. He thought he'd got it through his head when Emma was born. But he supposed when you fell head over heels for someone, it never truly went away. "Buff, I." Xander sighed. No energy for this. If he wanted to argue, he could do it at home. "Maybe you're right," he conceded.

"Well, " Spike began. "Think we're about to find out."

*****

"Miss Summers?" That crisp, woman's voice assaulted her as soon as she stepped into the corridor. Mrs. Tufts was a small woman, non-descript. Dark hair, graying around the edges. Dark eyes. Pale skin. She was angular and seemed like someone had drawn her in front of them.

"Buffy," she said, holding out her hand. "This is Sp..illiam." It came out as Buffy Word Salad.

"William," Spike corrected, politely offering his hand. She shook, sending an odd feeling coursing up his arm. Like static electricity. Spike avoided shuddering, as it would not have made much of an impression on Dawn's teacher if he shook like a dog and wiped his palm on his jeans.

"Nice to meet you," the woman said, studying Buffy as she shifted Emma from one hip to the other. " I see you all made it," Mrs. Tufts continued, peering around the couple to the rest of them.

"Yes," Buffy said curtly. "Was there a reason for calling us all? Did you have trouble getting through to me?"

"Better safe than sorry," the woman chimed, piercing Buffy with her dark eyes. There was something unreal about her. Like a cartoon.

"You said that there'd been an accident?" Spike said, trying to avert Mrs. Tuft's gaze from his family. "Where's Ni..Dawn?" Looks like Word Salad is contagious, Buffy thought.

"Right this way," the woman said. For some reason, Spike was reminded of a comedy movie a few years back. Young Frankenstien. Igor saying "Walk this way." He was tempted to hunch over and drag his leg behind the lady before Buffy kicked him in the shin and brought him back to the present.

"Seems pretty empty," Buffy commented as they walked down the corridor. The uneasy feeling was spreading through Spike like wildfire. The scene almost seemed surreal.

"We sent the students home," Mrs. Tuft's answered, stopping at the door to the gymnasium. "It's in there," she muttered, pointing at the door.

"Where is Dawn?" Spike asked again.

"Inside," Mrs. Tufts answered, flatly. Spike's uneasy feeling was growing, multiplying itself by Buffy's.

"Could you ask her to come out first? Rather not take the tot in," Spike asked, nodding at the doors.

"Oh, it's nothing like that. But I'd be happy to watch her, if you'd like," the dark woman said, holding out her arms.

"No!" they both snapped in unison.

"Thank you," Buffy added. "Dawn ... is in there?"

"Yes," Mrs. Tufts said, her arms flopping back to her sides in disappointment.

"You just left her alone in there?" Buffy continued, a look of aggravation mixed with fear crossing her face.

"She said she *wanted* to stay," Mrs. Tufts replied.

"Not a bloody good excuse for leaving her," Spike growled, annoyed with Tufts' incompetence.

The woman shrugged in reply, as if her vocabulary failed her. She stared at them, her gaze fixed on Emma. Spike watched the woman, trying to suss out what it was that was driving him nearly insane about her. He stepped in front of Buffy, blocking Mrs. Tufts' line of sight.

"I'm not sure I understand why you left the girl alone if she's been in some sort of accident," Spike began, his posture, his tone, becoming more aggressive by the moment. Buffy tugged the sleeve of his shirt, turning his attention back to her.

"Let's just get this over with," Buffy said, starting toward the gym. "I just want to get Dawn and go home." Spike glared at the woman, then grabbed the door before Buffy could reach it, swinging it open on its creaking hinges.

*****

It took a moment to review it all. The gym was almost dark. There was just enough light filtering through the windows to make out the odd pattern painted on the floor. Dawn sat on the bottom rung of the bleachers, her head in her hands, staring at the symbol as if she hoped its meaning would pop into her head like the answers on her history test.

"Dawn?" Buffy asked, worry in her voice, rushing across the room to the girl. Spike watched her, assuring himself that Dawn was indeed all right, then walked over to the marking on the floor. The rest followed Buffy.

"Everything OK, Dawnie?" Willow asked, brushing the teens from her cheeks and pushing it behind her ear.

"Yeah. Fine. What are you doing here?" Dawn asked, looking at Buffy, but addressing them all.

Buffy looked at her sister strangely. Obviously, the stories had been different for all of them. "Mrs. Tufts, your teacher called and told us that there'd been an accident and you needed us here," Buffy stuttered, shifting the sleepy baby onto the other hip.

"Who's Mrs. Tufts?" Dawn asked, her face contorted with confusion, her head wagging from person to person, trying to follow the conversation and figure out why any of them were standing there.

"From the school. Dark hair, bout this tall," Xander answered, gesturing to a height roughly equal to Buffy's.

"I don't know any Mrs. Tufts," Dawn said, still lost in confusion.

"It's a big school, Dawnie. Maybe she's one of those office administrator types," Tara concluded, smiling reassuringly at the teen.

"Trust me, I've been to the office enough times that..." Dawn stuttered, "...but not lately..."

"And you weren't in an accident?" Buffy asked, furrowing her brow, visually assessing her sister's condition.

"No," Dawn answered simply. "I was in lit class. The teacher got a note and called me to the front of the room and told me that I was needed in the gym. Didn't look like he knew why. Seemed weird, but this is Sunnydale, right, so I went. When I opened the doors, everything got all wonky and it seemed like the world disappeared. I got dizzy so I sat down and that's when I saw the thing on the floor. Then you were here." Dawn finished, babbling in confusion, trying to figure out just what *had* happened in the last half an hour of her life.

"Blood," Spike called, as he knelt at the edge of the symbol.

"Bloody, hunh?" Buffy asked, her face almost frozen in a mask of confusion. Not sure where Spike's comment fit in the reality of the situation.

"No," Spike enunciated, smirking at her. "Blood. The floor? The symbol?" he said, gesturing at the space below him and staring at the lot of them as if they were thick. The remaining six, plus Emma, tentatively walked over, studying the macabre painting on the floor.

It was a deep cherry colour, roughly the size of a smallish car. The design was strange, knotted, almost spiraling through itself. But if you looked at it from exactly the right angel, Buffy noticed, it looked like three eyes at the points of a triangle. It seemed...familiar... in a One sort of creepy way, but the name or the purpose escaped her. Buffy walked to where Spike knelt, letting her knees press against his back. He reached behind him with one hand, stroking her calf, reassuring himself that she was there.

"What kind of blood?" Willow asked, shyly. "I mean, since you are kind of the resident expert." They had spread themselves out in a ring around the pattern, all turning and craning their heads trying to look at it in some way that would make it make sense.

"Human," Spike answered, standing back up. Buffy stayed pressed close against his back.

"There's a lot of blood... for a human," Anya answered.

"Could be several," Spike added, wiping his hands on his jeans and leaning back just enough to feel Buffy pressed against his back. To feel Emma's chubby palm grabbing at his shirt. For some reason, contact seemed essential. Like the world might crack if he could not feel them there.

"Do you know what the symbol means?" Tara asked.

"Looks familiar," Spike commented, "Don't know if I've seen it this go round. You, Pet?"

"Same. Like it's in here someplace, but no idea," Buffy answered, shaking her head, clinging to Emma, pressing to Spike. The same feeling crept through her. They needed to stay close. Their power lay in each other.

"Will?" Xander piped in. "Looks all magic-y."

"It's Celtic," Willow answered, carefully inspecting the symbol. "Definitely magic. Not looking too happyish what with the human sacrifice."

"Well," Buffy said, feeling a wave of uneasiness assault her, creeping like vines twining around her. "I vote for the getting out of Dodge and figuring out the what it is and who dunnits someplace else."

"Think I'm with the Buffster," Xander agreed, pointing at Buffy.

"You're always with the Buffster," Anya shot back, annoyed.

"Wait!" Dawn exclaimed. They all turned their heads toward the teenager from their places around the circle. "Look!" she continued, stepping over the periphery and into the circle of blood. "There's something in the middle. See it. .. shining?"

"Nibs! No!" Spike blurted, stepping forward towards the edge of the mark. Just as his first muscle twitched into action, as Dawn leaned down in the center, something in Buffy snapped and fear shot through her as if someone had just jammed a gun to her temple.

"Spike!" Buffy reached forward with her one free hand and grabbed the back of his jeans, yanking him as hard as she could, knocking herself and Emma off balance in the process. Spike reeled backwards from the force of Buffy's pull and the push of some unseen power forcing him away from the symbol. He stumbled but managed to grab Buffy and break her fall onto the wooden floor. Dawn leaned down and grabbed hold of the shiny object in the center. Four sets of eyes looked with worry over at the heap on the ground, the baby crying quietly, startled awake. The fifth, the hub of the wheel, stood deadly still.

Spike heard a sharp crack, then a bright beam of light shot from the object, consuming Dawn in a sea of white. Buffy jumped up, trying to leave Emma with Spike and rush at her sister, but the same unseen force stopped her in her tracks, repelling her back to the floor. She clapped her hands over Emma's eyes, squinting against the horrible brightness. The glow spread, creeping up Dawn's hands, her arms, her shoulders, her neck. Another loud crack and a primal scream from the younger Summers prompted Spike back into motion. He scrambled to gain purchase on the slippery floor, but the hub turned its head, eyes glowing, knocking him back to the floor a few feet away. Then it turned its gaze on Buffy and Emma.

"No," Spike shouted, clambering on his knees towards Buffy.

"Spike?" Buffy asked, reaching towards him, the shock of what was happening to her sister dampening her senses. Spike grabbed Buffy, pulling her close, sandwiching Emma between them. His forehead touching Buffy's. Their hands clasping together. Buffy felt them shift as if passing through a velvet doorway. The noise faded, as if they had escaped to ether while their shells remained tangled in the floor.

Buffy heard the second scream as if it were a million miles away. She could see Dawn as if through a fog, the teen's hands spread open, mouth agape, spinning in the center of the wheel. The light had consumed her, escaping in beams from her eyes, deflecting off the others until they too were consumed in the sickly harsh light. Their eyes all glowing, all staring at the twirling hub. Buffy turned away, letting herself fall back into Spike, feeling Emma pressed so deep into her that it was almost as if the child was back in her womb. As if the physical had almost melted and they had returned to their natural state. One continuous entity swirling through itself. The sound, the screaming, reached an ear splitting crescendo, even from their perspective, and Buffy buried her head in Spike's shoulder unable to move, even to scream. Spike pressed his hands over her ears, trying to dull the horrible sound. Quell the fear that consumed them both.

Suddenly, it was deadly quiet.

Buffy was lying on the gym floor, Spike covering her. Emma was silent between them. Slowly, Spike craned his head, looking back over his shoulder. He moved carefully from his girls, trying to assess if it was safe. Trying to see what had happened. What they had been saved from and that they had been unable to prevent. What lay before them was more than either of them could bear.

All five lay breathless on the floor.

To be contd.

The Wolf (Chapter 5)

Spike stood carefully, lifting Emma to his chest and settling her against him, reaching down to grab Buffy's hand and help her to her feet. The baby was wide-eyed but unscathed, staring towards the circle as if she saw straight through it. Buffy tentatively stepped forward, wanting to race towards her sister, who was lying still, unmoving, in the center of the ring. Still, she was afraid of the force that had blown them back, that had tried to kill them all.

Something. Will. Fate. Spike. Something slowed her movement, allowing her time to think. As Buffy's foot rested one step forward, the symbol on the floor rose, whirling like a centrifuge. Spike grabbed the collar of Buffy's shirt, pulling her back as she turned her head from the wind and the dizzying, twirling, redness. Just as suddenly, the wind ceased and the symbol burst into dust, blown from the site with the force of its own implosion.

"Dawn?" Buffy screamed, yanking herself from Spike and running to where her sister lay on the floor. Spike followed, moving as quickly as he could without frightening the already speechless little girl tucked under his arm. Buffy slid to her knees next to Dawn, dread, fear racing through her mind and rendering her nearly helpless. She grabbed Dawn's hand. It was warm.

Spike stooped down next to them, touching the girl's cheek. He could sense her in there. Feel her warmth. Hear her blood rushing through her veins in a whirlwind of power and fear. She was alive but unconscious. "Nibs?" he asked softly, trying to control the onslaught of Buffy's emotions rattling into his head. His hand slid to her neck, in case the old Vampire senses were not as accurate as they once had been. Her pulse was strong, if fast. "Love, she's alive," he whispered, looking over at Buffy's frightened face. "Just had a shock. She'll be alright." The last part he wasn't convinced of himself, but he needed to pull Buffy back together.

Buffy looked at him softly for a moment. "I'll stay with her. Can you check on the others? I don't want to..."

"Yeah," Spike answered quietly. "She'll come round, Buffy. Seen worse, that girl has."

"I know," Buffy answered quietly. "Make sure that the rest are alright.

Spike stood, surveying the scene. They had all fallen exactly the same distance apart. In a perfect circle. It occurred to him, that each was in the quarters. North. South. East. West. Definitely magic. Definitely someone taking a shot at them, he thought.

Tara was the closest of the fallen. East, he thought as he walked towards her, dropping to his knees next to the girl. Emma stirred, but clung to him quietly. Spike could almost feel the little girl's fear in his own mind. Sometimes it was hard to remember that she was only two. That no matter what she had seen as the Peacemaker, what she was seeing now was always new.

"Tara?" Spike said softly, his hand gripping her shoulder. The woman moaned and turned her head, eyes still closed. Spike cringed, shuddering as he saw her face. On her forehead was the glowing shadow of an eye, a dragon coiled around its fringes. It looked like ashes.

"Spike?" Buffy called, her voice laced with concern and confusion.

"You see it, Pet?" Spike asked, craning his head towards her.

"All of them," Buffy answered, her head turning from side to side, surveying the group. Spike pressed his fingers to Tara's neck.

"Alive," he muttered. "Just knocked about."

"What is it?" Buffy asked, tracing the mark on Dawn's head with cautious, gentle fingers.

"Don't know, Pet. But I..."

Suddenly, a bell rang shrilly in the hallway outside. Spike's head whipped around, hearing chattering and stampeding footsteps on the other side of the thick wooden doors. Buffy's brow was furrowed and she felt as if she was shifting imperceptibly from one reality to another. Or maybe one moment to the next. But she felt it in her bones.

"Thinks school's back," Buffy said quietly.

Tara groaned again, opening her eyes as if her lids were weighted with lead. She looked up at Spike, blinking. "Wha...what happened?"

Spike pulled her up so she was sitting on the floor, looking all the world like a startled child. As she awoke, the mark faded from her forehead. "Not quite sure," Spike answered. "You feeling alright?"

"Yeah," Tara answered, looking around the room. "Where's Willow?"

Spike nodded at the girl curled on the floor a few feet away. Tara crawled across the wood as Willow began to swim back to the surface. The Vampire stood, leaving the birds to tend to each other and walked over to the others while Buffy prodded and tried to scold Dawn awake. If tears and gratitude wouldn't work, maybe a little of the old angry guardian routine might rouse her.

Anya was opening her eyes as Spike arrived. Emma still clung to him, one thumb in her mouth; the other wrapped tightly around his neck.

"Spike?" Anya groaned.

"How's your day?" Spike snarked, slyly smiling at her and lending her a hand. She pulled herself up until she looked like a rag doll sitting on the floor.

"Feel like I've had a run in with a bridge troll," Anya answered, rubbing the back of her head. As she spoke, the mark faded into oblivion. "That or a really bad portal jump."

"Best tend to Harris," Spike said, nodding over at Xander who was flat on his back, a stream of drool dribbling from the corner of his mouth. Anya looked at him, a broad grin breaking across her face.

"He's so cute when he's sleeping," Anya chirped, stumbling to her feet.

"Bloody disgusting," Spike muttered, turning back towards the center. Buffy was sitting cross-legged on the floor next to Dawn, somewhere between fury and despair. Spike shuddered at the intensity of Buffy's emotion. Her fear coursed through his veins like mercury. Softly, he laid a hand on Buffy's shoulder. She turned, her wet eyes pleading with him to do something.

"Everyone else is awake," Buffy whispered, looking around the room. Spike studied Buffy's face, the way her mouth was set, her eyes so wide and shocked, her pretty cheeks flushed with emotion. Spike loosed Emma's grip around his neck and gently handed her to her mother. He knelt down next to Dawn, his palm resting on the teenager's cheek.

"Nibs?" Spike said quietly, Buffy's worry creeping into his mind, spreading like a storm cloud across the horizon. "C'mon Dawn."

His voice. Dawn heard it somewhere in her drowsy, pounding head. Spike. Spike. What time is it? Should I be at school? What's wrong? Where's Buffy? She could hear them both, but it felt like they were standing on the edge of a pool, talking to her at the bottom. Struggling, Dawn drew together a coherent thought and began to swim to the surface.

"Dawn?" Buffy asked, as the girl's hand flinched in hers.

"C'mon Niblet. Given us a fright," Spike said, his palm on Dawn's cheek, his thumb running over her dewy skin.

"Spike?" Dawn muttered, opening her eyes slowly. Painfully. Buffy's relief came out as a long sigh.

"You alright?" Spike asked, looking down at her confused face.

"I think so," Dawn answered, trying to pull herself onto her elbows. Buffy helped her upright.

"You... you..." Buffy stuttered, not sure if she should throw her arms around her sister and thank anyone who would listen for making sure she was ok, or kill her for picking up the shiny thing, which had since disappeared, in the first place.

"Buffy, are you alright? Emma?" Dawn asked

"Fine," Buffy finally said.

"You're mad. About the silver thing.."

Spike shot a glance at Buffy. Buffy was still debating the embrace and the yelling. "Wasn't a very smart thing to do," Spike answered, pulling the girl to her feet. "We'll square up on that one later, alright?"

"Yeah," Dawn answered, knowing that she was in for a lecture. Spike, she could handle. Buffy, on the other hand, was a whole different kettle of fish.

"Why don't you go outside and get in the car," Buffy said, trying to force her voice to be flat and calm and failing miserably. Relief, fear and anger crept into her tone like weeds in a garden. Dawn knew better than to argue and walked towards the gym doors, swinging them open and stopping in her tracks. The school was packed, bustling, filled with students.

The remainder of the group had trickled up behind her. "Wasn't it.. empty?" Willow asked, staring into the busy hallway.

"Thinking it looked pretty dead when we got here," Xander commented, Anya looking oddly at him.

"We never saw anything dead. The school was dead?" she babbled.

"Dead like... forget it," Xander huffed.

"Guys, why don't you take Dawn and meet us at the Magic Box," Buffy recommended. " I want to track down this Mrs. Tufts woman and let the office know I took Dawn out of school."

"See look, Dawnie. Free day off," Willow chirped, smiling and bumping hips with the teenager.

Dawn took a long look at Buffy's face. "Can I stay?" She asked.

"Go!" Buffy ordered, pointing down the hall.

"Want us to take Emma?" Tara asked, her arms outstretched. "Free you up some." Buffy shot a glance at Spike. He nodded in agreement.

"Sure," Buffy answered, handing over the tot. "Thanks."

Spike watched them file down the hall as if nothing had happened to them. Xander was bringing up the rear, humming and whistling as he strolled down the corridor.

"What is that?" Buffy asked, looking up at Spike.

"The git?" Spike responded.

"What's all the humminess? What's he humming?"

"Don't know why, Love. But I think it's Peter and the Wolf."

"Peter who?"

"Did they teach you *nothing* in this place?" Spike asked, striding down the hallway.

"I didn't even go to school here," Buffy retorted, jogging a few steps to catch up.

"Oh, that's right," Spike said, gasping sarcastically. "This is the one they built after you were through with its predecessor."

"That wasn't my fault!" She was now matching him stride for stride, making their way down the hallway like two seniors in love.

"Sure it wasn't, Pet," he commented, shooting a way too sexy for the present environment smile her way. "You're never any trouble at all."

*****

The door jingled as Buffy burst into the Magic Box, Spike at her heels.

"So, what'd you find out, Buffy?" Tara asked as she played on the floor with Emma and a little plush demon-y looking toy that Emma adored. Only on the Hellmouth. She really still preferred Giles' fuzzy bunny, but Anya wouldn't let it in the store. Again, only in the Hellmouth.

"Well, Mrs. Tufts... not a teacher," Buffy said, walking towards the old, wooden table. The Scooby Inner Sanctum. Emma heard Buffy's voice and spun, clapping wildly and giggling. Buffy grinned, waving down at her and squatting as Emma half toddled, half ran at her mum.

"Told you," Dawn said, smirking. Spike shot her a warning glance, but it was too late.

"I would not talk much," Buffy said flatly. "We still need to chat about touching things that aren't yours." Dawn shrank back into the chair.

"So, no Mrs. Tufts?" Willow asked.

"Nope. No accident. No blood. No... none of it," Buffy said as Emma wriggled and squirmed in her arms.

"What was... all that then?" Anya asked from her perch behind the counter.

"Spell," Spike said, frankly.

"Well, I know *that*," the former demon snarked. "What kind?"

"Hoped you'd have that sussed out by now," Spike responded, looking over at the table and nodding at the seemingly endless pile of books open on its surface.

"We were hoping that you could use your whole One-ness thing," Willow said, shyly smiling. her head peeking out from behind her laptop. "You know, narrow it down?"

"And rob you of the endless pleasure of research?" Spike responded, walking towards the table and settling into a chair next to Willow.

"Well," Buffy began, "while you're working on that... Hey, where's Xander?"

"Don't think he feels very well. He's in the training room. He said he had a headache," Tara answered.

"Wouldn't let me fix it," Anya continued. "Sex always makes him feel better."

"Eww," Dawn remarked.

"Good," Buffy said, smiling over at Dawn. "Eww is right." Spike turned his head and raised an eyebrow at Buffy. "Well, for her eww is right," Buffy corrected.

"More eeewwww," Dawn said as she watched the heated glance fire between her sister and Spike.

"Thought I told you not to talk," Buffy commented, her eyes never moving from her lover's blue gaze. She could feel him crawling around in her head, touching buttons that should not be pushed in present company.

"Aren't people supposed to stop with the whole 'Hot Love' thing when they have babies?" Dawn asked, looking at her sister with feigned disgust. Actually, she thought it was kind of cool.

"Hot Love?" Spike asked, breaking his contact with Buffy and looking at Dawn with questioning, parental eyes. "Nibs, I think you and your sis need a talk."

"Oh, no," Buffy said sarcastically, watching Spike begin to squirm. "You have endlessly more... experience... in the talking that is..."

"Pet, you *are* going to..."

"So, where's Xander?" Buffy interrupted, heading towards the training room, letting Emma loose as she passed the table. Emma darted towards Spike, clambering up into his lap as if she were a monkey rather than a very pretty little girl. Spike looked awkwardly at Dawn. Willow and Tara were trying to suppress their smiles. Finally, Dawn gave the Vampire an out.

"Spike, had the talk. You can relax now."

Spike's shoulders slumped as Emma situated herself in his lap, her head plunking back into him.

"But you might want to start working on the speech for this little heart breaker," Willow joked, leaning forward to tickle Emma.

"Oh, no!" Spike snapped. "Absolutely no growing up whatsoever. And as for you, Nibs, if I ever catch sight of the bloke who'd try to.."

"Relax already," Dawn whined. "No *bloke* tried anything. Just... go research or something."

"He'll have to pass by me first," Spike slipped in.

"I will *never* have a boyfriend," Dawn sighed, leaning back into the chair.

"Not of the 'Hot Love' variety," Spike responded. "Now hand me the volume on Celtic Mythology."

*****

"Xander?" Buffy asked quietly as she entered the darkened training room. The door clicked shut behind her. She could not make him out in the shadows. "Where are you?"

She saw his outline in the darkness, sitting in a corner, his legs spread out in front of him, staring into nothingness and humming his maddening tune. "Xander?" Buffy asked again.

"Yeah," he answered.

"You alright?" Buffy asked, walking towards him. She watched him flinch from her and roll up into himself.

"Bright lights. Bad headache. Alone time," Xander said, flatly.

"Oh, OK," Buffy responded, her head cocking to try and see him better in the dim light. "Need anything?"

"Nah, out in a few," he answered, flashing a look she could barely make out. His eyes seemed to glimmer and then dart away. Buffy shook her head, trying to clear the vision. Sunlight from the window, she thought.

"See ya then," she whispered, a terrible consuming desire to run creeping up her spine. Buffy walked carefully back to the door, opening it as Spike's hand was grabbing the other side.

"What was *that*?" Spike asked, his body shuddering from foot to head like a dog shaking out his wet coat. Buffy shuddered, a major case of the wiggins crawling across her shoulders. Slowly, she pulled the door shut behind her and shook again.

"Can you say 'weirded out'?" Buffy muttered, heading back towards the table. Spike followed her, the uneasy feeling lingering in his veins.

"What's wrong?" Willow gushed, nervously.

"Dunno... he just seems... dunno," Buffy stuttered, trying hard to ditch the ancy feeling crawling along her spine. Spike was hoping she'd get over at as well as it felt as if she had loosed spiders under his skin.

"Is he OK?" Willow asked.

"Yeah, I mean, I think so. He says he has a headache but he's humming away like one of the dwarves."

"Dwarves don't hum. That's a misnomer. They have very thin lips," Anya contributed. The rest of them shot her an odd glance.

"I dunno," Buffy said again, crossing her arms as if against a chill. "Maybe it's just me."

"No, Pet. Trust it," Spike put his hand on her cheek, feeling the warm flush of her face.

"Not sure what to trust," she answered, her eyes catching his.

"Just be wary," he responded. "There for a reason."

"What are you talking about?" Dawn asked.

"Sort of an early warning system, " Spike answered.

"What is?"

"A feeling," Buffy answered, her eyes still caught in Spike's as if she were drawing reason and strength from him. "Like spiders under your skin."

"Maybe you should take Emma home, Pet," Spike commented, brushing hair from her pretty peach cheeks.

"You think?" Buffy asked.

"Because of Xander?" Anya said, her head cocked in confusion.

"Doubt there's anything to it," Spike said, "but better safe than..."

The door jingled open, interrupting Spike mid-cliche. A man in an overly conservative brown suit stiffly entered with all the stodgy pomp and circumstance he could muster.

"Can I help you?" Anya asked, nearly tripping over herself to reach the customer.

"Why yes," the man answered smiling stiffly, his very formal English accent drifting through the shop. "I am here to see the One."

To be contd.

Disarming (Chapter 6)

All eyes were trained upon the stiff man in the drab suit.

"You're here for who?" Buffy asked, cautiously.

The man smiled a quaint little grin. "The One. You must be Buffy Windsor," he said, approaching her, his hand outstretched. The others shot a glance at Buffy, not sure if they should stutter a response to the man's comments or to the fact that she had no quippy comeback for the name. Spike instinctively stepped in front of her, blocking the man's approach.

"What do you want with her, mate?" Spike snarled, feeling the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end.

"And you must be Spike," the man said, softly smiling another smug grin. Emma loosed herself from Dawn and toddled over, clinging to her father's leg shyly and completely undermining his threatening demeanor.

"And *you*," the man continued, lowering himself to his knees, "Must be Miss Emma." Spike reached down, his palm against her little blonde head, and guided her behind him. Buffy snatched her from the floor, scooping the baby into her arms.

"Not a chance," Spike hissed, every nerve charged and waiting to fire.

"I'm so sorry," the gentleman said, standing again and staring meekly at the now startled crew. "My name is Cyrus Banks. I'm from the Council." Again, an elegant hand jutted toward the blond Vampire.

"Fraid that won't buy you a load of salt round here," Spike responded, coldly, ignoring the man's outstretched hand. The man pulled his arm back to his side, reaching instead for his wire-rimmed spectacles and tugging them off.

"Rupert warned me of that," he mentioned, wiping his glasses on his jacket.

"Rupert?" Anya chimed from behind the counter.

"Yes," the man answered, seemingly unfazed by his less than warm welcome. "He's quite... occupied.. with the situation with Quentin. Draconius has indeed arisen. It's not safe for him to contact you. So he sent me to pass along information."

Buffy felt like the man was being honest but didn't particularly want to take the chance. Not with Emma. Not after Gwydion.

"How do we know that you're telling the truth?" Buffy asked, her form still mostly eclipsed by Spike. Every time she moved to come into Cyrus's line of sight, Spike shifted to prevent it.

"You don't," Cyrus responded simply. But Giles did mention information that only he should know."

"Like?" Spike asked, relaxing only enough to listen.

"He said," Cyrus began, staring up at the ceiling as if trying to remember lines of verse. "To ask Emma Joyce about her stuffed rabbit. He also mentioned a conversation with the Vampire on the back porch at sunset on the night Emma was born. Lastly, he told me to ask Buffy about her name." Buffy thought a moment, remembering that changing her name on her affairs had not been discussed with anyone save for Spike. And Giles.

"Not good enough," Spike said, although he had the same feeling as Buffy. This man was telling the truth.

"Well," Cyrus said again, "as only you would know, Quentin intentionally botched the translation of the Prophesy. Only Giles knows the true language, thanks to you. And only Emma knows it all." Spike raised an eyebrow at the man. "But suffice it to say that the two souls rejoined by the eternal kiss, those divided by Draconius and reunited by destiny and will alone, should know when a simple Englishman is lying. I've nothing to hide. No information I need from you. Only that to give. Take it and do what you wish," the Watcher finished, flatly.

Spike stood down, stepping away from Buffy. Tentatively, he extended his hand. "Not convinced, but I'll hear you out." Spike said, succumbing to reason. Cyrus took his hand and shook.

"Thrilled to hear it," Cyrus answered, sarcastically. "Rupert told me you two were difficult."

*****

"It seems that the translation Quentin has provided Rupert, the false prophesy, indicates a demon attack," Cyrus said from his seat at the edge of the table.

"A demon? Needle in a haystack. This is Sunnydale," Buffy snarked.

"What sort?" Spike asked, rummaging through a stack of papers that Cyrus had laid out on the table. Tara and Dawn had taken Emma and gone in search of food. Willow sorted through pages of Celtic designs at the opposite end of the table. Anya flipped through books from her spot behind the counter.

Still no emergence of Xander.

"The exact type is unknown. Keep in mind, this comes from Quentin's prophesy, so the information is most likely false." Cyrus answered, watching Spike's annoyed concern as he whipped through page after page of material.

"Well, what's its purpose then?" Spike asked, giving up on the papers and leaning back in the chair, tipping it onto its rear legs.

"To disarm the One and kill the Peacemaker," Cyrus answered, flatly.

Buffy shuddered. Threats on her, on Spike, were nothing new to her. But hearing Cyrus say with utter lack of concern, that some horrid demon was out to kill her daughter sent a cold chill through her. An empty blackness crawled around behind the chill. It was a thought she couldn't process. She wouldn't process.

Spike stared at Buffy for a moment. The horror behind her pretty eyes struck him instantly. Who did this sodding git think he was to come in here and.... "Not sure who is responsible for manners at the Council," Spike snarled, "and I *am* a Vampire, so I can't really say that I'm a hundred percent on the ability to not be overly blunt at times. But do you think you can refrain from taking about *disarming* us and *butchering* our child as if we weren't people? Or at least mostly people. S'about time that the Council stopped looking at Buffy as their personal plaything and started realizing she's a girl. You're scaring her. I don't like it. " He was trying to control his anger, but by the time he had finished, he was leaning across the table, the Watcher's collar in his fist. Buffy grabbed his hand, shaking her head. Spike backed off, sitting slowly down.

Cyrus looked at the Vampire, a mixture of horror and sympathy on his face. It was as Rupert had said. The Vampire with a heart. He loved the Slayer. Viciously protective of his lot. Mental note, Cyrus thought, let us not anger the Vampire or in any way insult or otherwise cross the Slayer. "My apologies," he said softly, meaning it.

"What do you mean, disarm?" Buffy asked, trying to end the standoff and get back to the subject before anything *could* happen to Emma.

"From what we can tell, the fully rejoined One cannot be broken," Cyrus began.

"But they were once before," Buffy commented, shifting in her seat and watching Spike out of the corner of her eye. He was settling, but she could feel the boil of his blood in her veins.

"Yes," Cyrus answered. "But they were children. They had not been completed. Also, they were destined to their union, as were you, but they were forced by birth to live their destiny. You chose to be joined. You completed the convergence of your own will, therefore the bond is complete. It can never be broken. Not even by one of you."

"Told you you were stuck with me, Pet," Spike snarked, regaining his composure and raising an eyebrow at Buffy.

"It's been so hard," Buffy answered dramatically, wiping her brow with the back of her hand.

"So," Cyrus continued, not sure whether or not to be heart warmed or utterly disgusted by their willingness to accept their fate, "The best that an enemy could do is to disarm the One."

"Back to the 'what do you mean, disarm'?" Buffy said. Spike shook his head. If nothing, his Slayer was blunt. And here he was lecturing the Watcher on manners.

"Inactivate half. Wound it. Capture it. Preferably remove half from the plane."

"Right then. Back to the people skills," Spike snapped. "*It* happens to be two beings sitting in front of you who do not like to be called *it*."

"Right," Cyrus said, beginning to feel ganged up upon. "Again, my apologies. If Quentin, Draconius, were to kill one of you, it would solve nothing. The essence would simply shift wholly to the remaining half. All of the soul, the experience, the strength, intellect, power, of both would inhabit one shell. However, if one of you were to be incapacitated, but left alive..."

"Then the half would stay with them," Buffy completed. "And only half would be left to protect Emma."

"Precisely," Cyrus said, nodding at the Slayer. "And this demon is meant to do exactly that."

"But you said that this was Quentin's information..." Buffy began.

"Correct. More than likely, this is a red herring,"

"Did Rupert give you anything of the correct translation?" Spike asked, again flipping through the documents before him.

Cyrus rustled through the papers, pulling out a stack of handwritten notes. "He did. However, I am afraid they're rather cryptic. As most prophesies are. They make much less sense than Draconius's plan."

"How so?" Buffy asked.

"Well," Cyrus began, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose, "The translation of the section of the prophesy begins 'The Evil Lies Within'."

"Within?" Buffy asked. "Like Emma is going to get sick or something?" Fear spread through Buffy like wildfire. Spike took her hand, pulling it under his, squeezing it. Stay objective, he thought. Maybe it'll rub off on her.

"It could," Cyrus resumed, "But Rupert seems to think that the text indicates that it will be another person."

"Another person? A human?" Buffy asked, her eyes trained on the Watcher, full of concern and fear and anger.

"Yes," Cyrus answered. "Most likely someone within your sphere of influence. Someone who has been compromised."

"Compromised?" Spike asked, his head cocking as he questioned the stodgy, young man.

"By magic, most likely. Someone you know. That you trust, most likely. Maybe even someone you love."

"Not one of us," Buffy gulped, gesturing at Spike.

"No," Cyrus answered. "Magic of that nature cannot work within the confines of the One. However, it could be almost anyone else."

"Anyone?" Willow asked, peeking her head from behind the blue glow of the laptop.

"Yes."

"And this behaviour, the change from ally to enemy, would be as a result of a spell?" Spike asked as the tumblers began to click into place inside his mind.

"Yes."

"The school," Buffy muttered, remembering the pattern. "Does this mean anything to you?" she asked, grabbing a drawing Dawn had made of the symbol on the gym floor.

"Yes," Cyrus answered, gasping as he spoke. Hurriedly, he rustled through the papers before him and found an identical drawing that Giles had penned, and placed it on the table next to Dawn's.

"What is it?" Spike asked.

"The Eye of the Fates," Cyrus answered, studying the two sketches.

"Guess my work here is done," Willow commented, closing the laptop and focusing her attention on the conversation on the other end of the table.

"What is it for?" Buffy asked.

"It is the vessel for the spell," Cyrus said. "According to Giles' notes, the 'players' should avoid the eye for it is the harbinger of that which is to come."

"A little late, mate," Spike commented.

"Has someone had contact with the Eye?" Cyrus asked, his eyes growing wide.

"All of us," Spike answered. "Buffy and the mite and I were thrown clear of it, but the rest..."

"So the spell has commenced," Cyrus said, his eyes betraying his fear. His concern. He was supposed to make it here in time. Rupert would be sorely disappointed.

"Well," Buffy began. "Who would it be? Someone standing in a specific spot? What do we do to unspell them."

"That's the rub," Cyrus sighed, taking off his glasses, wiping them on his shirttail.

"The rub?" Spike commented, not liking the term. Not liking anything about this conversation.

"It's a transient spell. It can pass from one to another without any indication, without any of them knowing why or how. Like a ball bouncing on a roulette wheel. Until it is time. And the one infected at that moment is the one who will carry out Draconius's will."

"Try to," Spike snapped, squeezing Buffy's hand again. She was pale, but her face showed resolve. Buffy was amazingly resilient like that, Spike thought. Can push her down, but she gets up that much stronger.

"So, it can be anyone in that circle?" Buffy asked, her resolve strengthening.

"Correct."

Buffy glanced nervously at Willow, Anya. All at once, friends became potential foes. The thought of it made her stomach do a nervous flip. She needed them. They made her strong. Even with Spike, she drew strength from all of them. The thought of what she would have to do if one of them tried to hurt Emma... it was too much to think about.

"Buffy, I would never.." Willow stuttered. Buffy tried to smile, but the attempt only yielded a gentle twitch of her lips.

"Not on purpose, Will, but.." Buffy stuttered. "You know what dark magic can do."

Willow looked down. She'd tried to get past what she had done, but she lived with it every day. In her nightmares. In her mind. Her heart. "Yeah," Willow whispered. "I understand."

"We just have to figure out who has it and how it jumps and keep them from getting at Emma," Buffy commented.

"The jump has a mechanism," Cyrus said, interrupting the strained conversation between the two friends. "It can't just hop from one body to another."

"Great," Spike said, happy to hear that they had a jump on the situation. "What is it?"

"I'm afraid that there, the text became quite ambiguous."

The relief faded quickly in both Spike and Buffy. "So, what now?" Buffy asked, glancing first at Cyrus, then at Spike, hoping to find the answers she didn't have. Unfortunately, the only answer she could find is that no one had one.

The training room door creaked open and Xander stumbled into the room, blinking at the diffused sunlight streaming in through the windows. He looked haggard, tired, but otherwise normal.

"Ahn, I need to go home," he said softly, his hand shielding his eyes from the light.

"I've got the store, honey. Why don't you take a nap in the training room?" Anya answered, walking over to him and resting her hand on his brow. He was cool, but looked as if a truck had hit him.

"I can run you home," Willow chirped, popping up and rushing to his side.

"Thanks," Xander answered. Willow slid his arm over her shoulder, pausing to let Anya kiss him softly.

"Let's get you home," Willow said, smiling up at him and helping him out the door.

"For starters," Cyrus began, as the door jingled shut. "Watch him."

"Xander?" Anya asked, walking over to the table, standing behind a chair and rocking back on her heels. "He's harmless."

"He's the only one acting oddly since the incident at the school," Spike commented, looking softly at the former demon. "Can't hurt to be cautious."

"Right," Buffy agreed. "We'll keep an eye on him. What else?"

"I wouldn't discount Quentin's demon either. If for no other reason than it would be a clever distraction."

"Great," Buffy muttered.

"We'll be all right, Pet," Spike said, turning her face to his with his fingertips. His eyes met hers, melting her.

"I know."

To be contd.

Next