Title: Breath (The Evil Within - Chapter 24)

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: The Ritual of the First reaches its culmination, but can Spike save Emma? Can he get her back in time to save Buffy? William and Buffy have a conversation that ends in tragedy. Will William be able to make it right before it's too late?

Breath

Cyrus watched the Vampire long enough to see him pluck the child, seemingly from the sky, and cradle her gently against his chest. How he ever saw her in the explosion, Cyrus could not fathom. But he had her.

Spike looked around the cave, trying to see past the blinding light. Searching for anyone. Instinct in overdrive, removing sense from his mind.

"Go!" Cyrus screamed over the din of crumbling stone. "Run! Now!"

Spike stared over to where he'd last seen Anya and Giles, but couldn't make out anything in the harsh light and dust. There was nothing now but blinding whiteness. He turned on a heel, clutching Emma to his chest, face buried in her silky hair, and sprinted back the way he had came.

*****

It was dark. Cold. Silent. Anya stood, naked and alone. She could hear herself choking and she could hear Giles' sobs, but she couldn't feel it anymore. Couldn't feel the burn left by the steel in her chest. The bubbling blood in her throat. But she could hear it. Not alive anymore. Not dead.

"Anyanka," a voice whispered tenderly, coming up from behind her in the darkness. A cloak was wrapped around her shoulders and she pulled it tight around her. So cold.

"D'Hoffryn," she acknowledged, her voice quaking from fear and fatigue.

"You did *so* well, child," he said, turning her to face him. "You were always very good at exacting vengeance, but sacrifice... I was not prepared for that."

"I couldn't let her die," Anya said simply.

"Yes. You could have," D'Hoffryn answered. "But you did not."

Anya thought for a moment. "Does that mean that I don't have to... I mean, can I stay human?"

D'Hoffryn sighed, part of him wanting to grant her wish. "I'm afraid not," he answered. "Your death is what ends the spell. Even if I wanted to, I could not save your true humanity now." He was quiet for a moment. "But, if you wish, I will be willing to allow you to die as a human and release you from your contract."

Anya was silent, staring at her once and future master. "If I go back to being a demon, will you let me stay in Sunnydale? Have some say in the jobs? Live as a human?"

D'Hoffryn laughed. Always negotiating a better deal. "Yes," he answered. "I will even allow you to retain some human characteristics."

"Like?"

"You will have all of your powers as a demon, but I will allow you a functioning human body. A heartbeat. Breath. The ability to bear children. And you may maintain your soul."

"M...my soul?" Anya stuttered, taken aback by D'Hoffryn's offer.

"Your soul," he repeated. "But you *are* at my service. You must perform your duties as I request. It may tend to be easier without a human soul."

Anya was quiet, mulling the idea over in her rattled mind. "Can I keep it on a trial basis?"

D'Hoffryn chuckled again. "Yes," he answered. "It is negotiable."

"Will I age... die?"

"Alas, no. At least not as humans do," D'Hoffryn answered. "You will be an immortal. Life and death, I cannot control."

Anya studied him closely. He may be a demon, but he was a demon of his word. The deal seemed more than reasonable. "I accept," she said nodding curtly.

D'Hoffryn slid her amulet gently around her neck, fastening the clasp, and then rested his hands on her shoulders.

"Reanimate."

*****

They walked in the trees now. The mother moon threw shadows along the ground in beautiful patterns of light. Buffy jumped from one patch to the next, like a child playing hopscotch. William smiled as she leapt between them. So innocent here. Free.

As she danced under the moonlight, he thought of a way to talk to her. To tell her what he felt. About his notions. It wasn't proper to just barge into someone's life without asking, if one had the opportunity to do so. Nor did he know if he would even be welcome. But to watch her move, to see her smile, to hear her laugh and feel her love him, every day, would be worth the risk of embarrassment.

William had been so lost in his thoughts that he barely saw her stumble. She stepped down on uneven ground or something. He couldn't tell. But suddenly she was tumbling towards the earth just ahead of him. He slid at her like a runner stealing home and managed to get underneath of her, catching her small frame against him. Buffy slid gently to his chest, and then he settled her to the ground as her balance gave way.

He looked over at her, concerned and stunned, brushing the windblown hair from her cheeks. "Are you hurt?'

Buffy burst into a fit of giggles. "Clumsy, yes. Hurt, no." She began to push herself to her feet when a sharp pain tore through her and she settled back to the ground with a thud and a groan.

"Buffy?" William asked, crawling to her. "Buffy, it's not... Oh God."

"No," she whimpered. "Twisted my ankle."

William visibly relaxed, scampering down to her bare feet to inspect the injured limb. His heart was pounding in his chest. He was supposed to protect her. If anything happened to them...

"William!" Buffy said as if it had been the seventh time she had called to him. "I'm fine. Slayer. Healing."

"You are *not* the Slayer here," he answered, his fingers tracing the rapidly swelling ankle. "We need to get you some ice. Immobilize it." He searched the ground, grabbing a solid branch and breaking it in two, sliding a half along each side of her leg. He removed his jacket in one quick move, ripping the sleeve from his shirt and pulling it down his arm, tying the sticks to her leg. "It could be broken."

"Easy, Dr. William. Just a sprain," she quipped, wincing has he tightened the sleeve around her ankle. "I fall down. It's no big deal."

"You should be more careful," William advised, all humour gone from his tone. "What if it had been worse? What if you..."

Buffy caught his eyes and read them immediately. She nodded, biting her lip. "Lost the baby?" She completed.

"Yes," he answered, turning his attention back to her ankle. He stood, then leaned down, scooping her up and carrying her deeper into the wood.

"Where are we going?"

"We need to put something cold on that. The house is a few kilometers back. There's a stream up ahead."

"I'm okay," Buffy sighed, flopping her head back in frustration. Being fussed over was never something at which she'd been very good.

"Maybe you are, but I promised to protect you," he snapped defensively. "And you didn't answer my question." He was walking at a good clip now, anger and concern fuelling his pace.

"Which one?"

"What if you had lost the baby?"

"They're pretty clingy," Buffy answered, looking up at him. "I mean, I patrolled for a long time with Emma. Takes a lot more than,...."

"You aren't the Slayer here," he interrupted. She heard the stream, and then saw it bubble into view. William walked her out to a flat rock on the stream's edge and sat her down gently. He stood, pacing indignantly as she slid her leg into the cold water. He was right. It felt better.

"William," she said softly, tugging at his pant leg as he passed. He stopped, looking down to where she sat. "Nothing's wrong, okay? I feel fine other than the flaming dagger stuck in my leg."

William sat reluctantly, a puff of breath escaping as he eased onto the rock. He removed his shoes and socks, letting his feet dangle into the water next to hers. "You should still be more careful."

"I've done this before, remember?" Buffy said softly. "Emma was fine and she went through a lot more than a tumble."

"Emma was a prophesied child," William countered, about to spill the rest despite warnings. "Predestined. She would have been born safely regardless. Nothing short of your death would've stopped it because the Powers had a mission."

Buffy put her hand on William's leg. He settled just a bit. "It's alright," she whispered. "I promise."

He looked over at her. "Buffy," he sighed. "This will sound peculiar and the fact that it does sound peculiar is peculiar in and of itself..."

"Confusing, much?" Buffy quipped, kicking her feet gently in the water.

"There is no Prophesy for this child. No superhuman mission. No powers save for maybe those naturally inherited from being the child of two beings of preternatural strength and speed. But this child you are carrying is, by and large, normal. It wasn't supposed to happen. No one, not even the Powers, saw it coming. No one thought it could. Emma was supposed to be the miracle arising from the reunion of the One. The only child. But yet again, you *both* defy the laws of metaphysics and fundamental biology in order for you to become pregnant with a human child created by *nothing* but human emotion and genetics. And..."

"Yeah," Buffy interrupted, saving William the embarrassment. "We sort of do that a lot."

William blushed. "I do not need to know."

"So, this baby," she said softly, her hand pressing instinctively to her still flat belly. "Isn't supposed to save the world or learn to fly or create happiness for everyone?"

"No," William answered. "There *is* no Prophesy. It's a child, Buffy. No more and *certainly* no less. And in that fact, you must protect him... or her... all the more."

"No glowy green things or teleportation?" Buffy asked, squinching her nose.

"At most, the child could inherit your strengths. Stronger than normal. Faster. But no. Does that disappoint you?" His voice was tentative rather than accusatory.

Buffy looked at him wide eyed. "No!" She snapped, indignant, her hand now splayed protectively over her abdomen. "He or she ... is mine regardless. I could care less."

She meant it. He knew it. She loved the child already.

"Buffy," he sighed as she slid into the water, trying to stand on the silty bottom of the shallow stream.

"Don't worry, just testing the leg."

"Stay close."

"I think you're taking this protection gig too seriously."

"Buffy," he said, his tone becoming quiet, timid.

"Yeah," she called as she walked further into the stream, the hem of her dress skimming the water. The full force of the moonlight shone down on her, making her glow like an angel.

"I want to go back," he said softly. She stopped, cocking her head to listen.

"What?"

"I want to go back. If you'll have me." He looked like a child. His head was down, sending chestnut hair tumbling around his face. His knees were drawn up to his chest.

It took her a moment to register his request, She stood in the water, restlessly wading. Thinking. "William," she whispered softly.

He never looked up. "I... I'm sorry. It was stupid. I should have..."

Buffy moved in the water, wanting to come back to him, but suddenly the current became strong. "William?"

He looked up, her voice taking on a yelp of surprise. He jumped into the stream. It was raging now, separating her from the shore. "Buffy, stay where you are. Don't cross."

"What?" She screamed. "Why can't I..."

"Stay there!" He commanded. She buried her feet in the silt. "If you touch the other shore you..."

"Cross," she completed as it dawned on her. "Die."

He reached out, grabbing her outstretched hand and pulling, but she wouldn't budge. Terror surged across his face. William tugged again, harder, holding her wrist like a cuff of iron. "Buffy! Come back. Come on..."

"I'm trying!"

"Not hard enough."

"Don't let go," she screamed, almost sobbing, the water rising on her side of the stream.

"Oh God, I promise."

She was silent, looking at his scared blue eyes. She loved those eyes. "William, I'd be honoured."

He looked at her, clinging to her wrist, pulling her towards him as hard as he could. "Buffy?"

"I would be honoured if you were my son."

And the water slipped over her head.

*****

They heard her screaming. Tara was in the bathroom, getting fresh water and mixing the salve for Buffy's wounds. Xander was pacing restlessly down the second floor hall. Waiting. Willow was downstairs making coffee.

They all heard her screaming.

Tara spilled the bowl of water. Xander tripped on a throw rug. Willow dropped the coffee mug and it shattered into a million pieces against the tile.

Still she screamed.

Tara got there first, Xander throwing open the door just after her. Willow tore up the stairs and arrived in the doorway nervously panting. The screaming was disorienting, making it hard to focus on what to do.

Dawn lay in the bed. Screaming. Crying. Terrified.

Buffy was next to her, her body seizing, flopping like a fish out of water. She was choking, gasping for air as if she were drowning. Her mouth was drawn open in a pained grimace. Her dead eyes still stared weightlessly at the ceiling.

Xander grabbed Dawn, pulling her away as Tara moved the nightstand, afraid that Buffy might crack her head against the wood. Willow rushed over, the motion of the others spurring her instinct, and tried to hold her. Tried to think. Xander sat the screeching teen in a chair and rushed back to help Willow.

"What's happening?" He asked, terror shredding his voice. Turning him into a teenager again.

"Sh.. she's dying. Her body's dying," Willow gushed, fear and adrenaline coursing through her like fire.

"What do we do?" Tara asked. "Call an ambulance?"

"What if Spike comes back?" Xander blurted.

"Dammit," Willow mumbled. Tara looked at her, frightened. "Call that nurse. Call anyone who can come here with some medical training. Something."

Tara nodded, tearing out of the room and down the steps.

Buffy flailed underneath of them. Willow crawled up her body and got behind her, positioning herself between Buffy and the headboard. She tied to hold her shoulders down without hurting her any more. Xander grabbed her legs, and then climbed up to sit on her knees. She bucked under them, choking, gasping.

"Oh, God," Xander stuttered, wide eyed. "What do we do? What do we do?"

"Keep her airway open," Willow said, shaking her head clear. She used one hand to manipulate Buffy's head back. Buffy was drowning in front of them. Drowning on dry land. Nothing they could do.

Dawn rushed to the bed, tears streaming. "What can I do?"

"Go help Tara," Xander snapped.

"If she dies, I need to be with her," Dawn raged, climbing onto the bed and laying across her sister's chest. "Shh," she whispered quietly. "Shh. It'll be OK. Stay here with us. Spike'll be back soon."

The bucking stopped.

"Keep talking to her, Dawnie," Willow whispered, hopeful, now able to tilt Buffy's head back enough to let air in her throat. The choking, raspy breaths blew at a dangerously slow rate.

"Stay here, Buffy. We need you," Dawn cooed, stroking her sister's hair. Buffy's dead stare never focused. Never changed. The sound of her lungs was like a gurgling, dying engine. Her chest heaved with effort. "Buffy, we love you. Don't go."

Buffy breathed.

In. Out. In. Out. In.

And she was still.

To be contd.

Title: Together (The Evil Within - Chapter 25)

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: Cyrus attempts to rescue Giles from the rubble of the ritual. Spike races back through the portal, but Buffy may already be gone. William tries to save Buffy from crossing over, but he cannot do it alone.

Together

"Rupert?" Cyrus called out into the dust and crumbling stone. Nothing. No one answered. He began to make his way towards the last place he had seen his compatriot. "Rupert?"

"I'm here." The voice was small, weak. Just a few feet from Cyrus, but as hidden as if he were miles away.

"We have to go, Rupert," Cyrus said quietly, his voice hurried. "Can you follow my voice?"

"I'm not leaving."

"We have to go!" Cyrus pleaded. "The cave may crumble and I cannot imagine Draconius will just surrender to our game."

"She's not dead yet," Giles whispered faintly. "She's still here. It... it's taking too long. I won't leave her here to die alone."

"If you stay, you will likely die with her." Cyrus dropped to his knees, his voice both comforting and strong.

"I was willing to die from the start."

Cyrus thought for a moment. "They need you, Rupert. Buffy. Emma. Even Spike."

"They have each other now," Giles commented. "I took Anya's life. I will see her through to the end." The defeat in the Watcher's voice was painful. Horrifying.

"You couldn't have done anything differently."

"That doesn't make it any more *right*," Giles snapped. "Now, please. Off with you. If I do get out, I will contact you. If not..." He was silent for a beat. "Just watch after them. They have enough love to go around, but often not enough sense to fill a thimble."

Cyrus chuckled. "I think they'd rather you insult them personally."

"Go," Giles repeated, clutching Anya closer. Feeling her heart thump its last beats against his chest. "Please."

"You *are* a good man, Rupert," Cyrus said, conceding. He stood, brushing the dust from his pants absently. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught a flicker of Giles huddled over the girl in the corner. Protecting her from falling stone. Cyrus blinked away tears and turned to run.

*****

Spike ran down the tunnel at full speed, Emma clutched against him. Her head bobbed with every stride in a spray of blonde curls. He wanted to stop and shower her with kisses. Tell her all would be right as rain. But he couldn't. Something was wrong. He could feel it everywhere.

Spike ran faster.

There was no sticky jello door at the end. One moment he was running in the darkness. The next he was screeching to a halt in Emma's bedroom. He paused long enough to look at the little girl, scanning her to make sure she was alright. Planting an impossibly gentle kiss on her forehead. "Got to help your mum, alright?" He whispered, nuzzling Emma's hair with his nose.

She looked up at his eyes. Her face was solemn. "Mommy need us."

Spike stared at her a moment, feeling her words as they were meant. A warning. He kicked open the door and ran down the hallway to their bedroom.

"Spike!" Dawn screeched as he burst through the doorway. Everyone looked up at him. All but Willow. Her mouth was pressed tight to Buffy's. Breathing.

"Oh, God," Spike choked, absently clutching Emma closer. Xander stared at him, terror in his face. Dawn was clinging to Buffy's hand. The Vampire stood in shock and then finally shook his head, snapping himself back to reason. "Does she have a heartbeat?" He demanded, forcing himself closer to the bed.

Xander pressed his fingers to her wrist. He nodded. "A little."

"Get out of the way," Spike muttered. No one moved. "Get out of the bloody way!" He screamed and Dawn and Xander scampered across the room like scolded children. Willow stayed with Buffy, trying to hang on.

Spike sat Emma down on the bed next to her mother. The little girl stared at Buffy for a moment, bright blue eyes blinking down as if studying the best way to handle the crisis. The world was silent. Not even the sounds of the house. No hum of electric. No drip of the faucet. Silent.

The little girl looked at Spike and her eyes slowly changed, glowing a bluish white like moonstones glittering in sunlight. She was brilliant. Beautiful.

Spike moved to Willow, touching her shoulder. The redhead gladly gave way, gasping, moving back to let Spike next to Buffy. Emma crawled closer, mirroring him. As he leaned down pressing his lips to his love's, breathing his life into her, Emma leaned forward placing one hand on her mother's heart and one on her cheek.

He felt the heat against his face and saw the flash of perfect white light, but kept breathing. Filling her with his life. Holding on until she could hold on for herself.

*****

"Buffy, no!" William screamed, tears streaming down his cheeks. "Please, God, no!" He could no longer see her, although her wrist was still caught in his surprisingly strong grasp. No amount of pulling, straining, would move her from the jaws of the river. But if she were to cross here, he would cross with her. Die again with her or save her .

William barely noticed the flash of white light. The rich scent of vanilla. He heard the still water behind him stir with movement, but wouldn't turn away to look. Couldn't. "Please help us," he begged to whoever could hear him. "Buffy!" He screamed again at the raging water ahead.

"Give me your hand," a smooth, perfect voice whispered into his ear. The voice was luxurious as silk. Something almost tactile. Enchanting.

William turned his head to glance at the girl. She was spell binding. Beautiful. Barely a woman wearing a white silk sheath, her golden blonde hair tumbling down her back. "I... I won't let go," William choked, tears falling like rain.

"Just one," she answered, smiling softly at the man. "Trust me, William."

"How do you..."

"There is no time," The Peacemaker said in the silky, velvet voice. "Please?"

William let one hand slip from Buffy's and thrust it towards the girl. She took it in her delicate, pale fingers. Gracefully, she moved up next to William, plunging her free hand into the depths of the river and grabbing Buffy's lifeless wrist.

"Be brave, William," the girl said quietly. William stared at her, enchanted. "Together, we will put her free."

William nodded. So many questions. Was she an angel? From the Powers? No time.

"Are you ready?" She smiled again in a brilliant array of perfect teeth and pink lips.

William nodded again, tightening his grip.

"Now," the girl said confidently, tugging at Buffy's wrist. William leaned back, pulling with all his might. Buffy slid forward, under the wall of current and popped into the stillness of the calm side of the river. William scrambled back, almost loosing his balance, catching himself just before he toppled into the water.

He slid the lifeless woman across the water, scooping her from the surface like a doll, running to shore with her clutched against his chest. The Peacemaker followed calmly behind.

"Lay her down on the stone, William," the girl said quietly. William was panicked, but complied, setting Buffy gently on the stone that they had been sitting on just moments earlier. It felt as if it had been a century past, William thought.

"Is she... Oh, God. Did I let her cross?" William gushed, his voice wavering, terrified.

"All will be as it should," the girl answered, laying her hand on William's shoulder. Instantly, he calmed as if flooded with contentment.

"Who... who are you?" He asked as she glided though the water and pressed her lithe body against the stone.

The girl turned towards him and smiled, then returned her attention to Buffy. Softly, she laid a hand upon Buffy's chest and one on her cheek. William watched the girl move, her body becoming consumed in an iridescent white light. The colour of moonstone, William mused. He shook his head, blinking, afraid he was entranced or had crossed over himself. But the glow became stronger, spreading over them like white fire.

Then Buffy coughed.

Gently, the girl shifted Buffy to her side, William splashing to her side to help hold her steady. Buffy choked, gagging, water spilling from her lips like rain. The Peacemaker stroked her hair, soothing Buffy as she recovered. William scampered up onto the rock to hold Buffy's head, steadying her. Buffy blinked, opening her eyes and gazing out at the girl.

"Are you alright?" The moonstone child purred, stroking her mother's face. Buffy smiled.

"I thought it was my job to save you?"

"And you have. Many times over," the girl answered smiling. "But it was not I who held you to your life." The girl nodded at William. Buffy rolled onto her back, looking up at him. His face was still damp with tears and river water, and etched with fear and worry.

"Thank you," Buffy whispered up at him, touching William's cheek. He moved her hand to his mouth, kissing her palm. His eyes shut tight over tears.

"We must get back," The Peacemaker said quietly to Buffy. "The longer you are away, the harder it will be for your mortal body to recover."

Buffy nodded at her as she gracefully slid up the bank next to them. William stared at the girl in awe and respect. "Say your goodbyes," the girl said kindly, placing her hand on William's. "But it needn't be long, brother." She smiled a blindingly beautiful smile and walked off into the wood.

Pushing herself up on her elbows, Buffy began to sit. William helped her gently from behind. "That was..." he stuttered.

"The Peacemaker," Buffy answered, smiling with pride. "Emma."

William stared at her, dumbfounded. "How..."

"You are the smart one," Buffy quipped, wobbling to her feet. William kept an arm around her waist for support.

"Can you walk?"

"Yes," Buffy answered, turning to face him. "Thank you," she whispered. "For everything."

William stared at her dancing, green eyes. So perfect. So beautiful. He etched her into his memory. "You'd better go," he whispered, squeezing her hand one last time, then letting it fall to her side.

"Yeah," Buffy replied, glancing down the path. Her daughter waited for her at the tree line. "I meant what I said, William."

He cocked his head in a movement so reminiscent of Spike. Buffy smiled. Maybe the move was reminiscent of William. She pulled his face down to hers and kissed his forehead gently, brushing back his damp hair.

"Goodbye for now," Buffy said softly. "And thank you again."

He stared at her with incredible tenderness. "No," he answered. "It is I who should be thankful." What he would not do to be with her always. "Promise me you will be more careful?" A smiled played upon his lips.

Buffy returned it warmly. "For you."

She took a long look and then turned to go.

*****

Buffy coughed.

It wasn't very loud or very strong, but Spike felt the air he had breathed into her, blow back into his throat. Slowly, he lifted his face from hers. Her eyes were closed softly, long eyelashes dark against her pale skin. Emma was still now stretched cat-like along her mother's side, exhausted.

"Is she..." Xander questioned quietly.

"Shh," Spike hushed, annoyed. He lowered his face to Buffy's, his cheek to her lips, and felt her breath slow but steady against his skin.

Willow leaned tentatively to the bed, feeling Buffy's wrist. Her pulse thumped like a slow drumbeat in her veins. "She's alive," she said quietly.

Xander stumbled back, catching himself at the foot of the bed as if he'd just been punched in the chest. Dawn clung to the chair, white knuckled, afraid to move.

"Spike?" Willow whispered, turning towards the silent Vampire. He looked up at her, not moving his face from Buffy's. "It's too slow. She needs help." She kept her voice low enough that only Spike could hear.

Spike nodded, agreeing. "Did you call for an ambulance?"

"Tara's trying to find a doctor to come here. We didn't want to leave in case you made it back with Emma. Which you did," Willow babbled.

"Can you check?" Spike asked. "Make sure someone's coming?"

Willow nodded at Spike, jogging from the room.

Dawn moved to the bed in slow, careful steps, crawling up opposite Spike. He lifted his eyes to hers. "You alright, Niblet?"

"Yes." It was so soft it barely registered as a whisper.

"Need you to help me. You up to it?"

"Yes."

"Check out the mite. I didn't even have a chance..." He was close to tears, but swallowed, blinking and reigning his voice back into control. "Get her cleaned up and comfortable and see if you can get her to eat."

"Should she stay?" Dawn asked, quietly. "I mean, can she help?"

"I think she's done all that she can do. Not going to risk her too."

Dawn nodded. Xander picked up the child and gently settled her against Dawn. "Harris, help her."

"I will," Xander agreed, his voice nearly as silent as Dawn's.

Dawn headed for the door, Xander just ahead. Spike crawled up into the bed, pulling Buffy against him, her head resting against his shoulder.

"Spike?" Dawn asked.

"Yeah, Niblet?" He answered. His voice was full of exhaustion. Resignation.

"Can you... feel her there? You know? Like before?"

He closed his eyes, breathing, letting his mind quest out to hers. It took a moment. Usually he could just think about it and it came to pass. Spike kept searching, trying to find her.

It was the pain he felt first. The dull throb. The sharp stings. Then the slow thump of her heart. He grabbed onto it, feeling her, forcing himself further in as if searching for her in a dark room. Spike sensed her, finally, weakly. She felt like a child rolled into a ball, waiting to be comforted. Closed off, but there. Definitely there.

Spike opened his eyes slowly, drowsiness taking over. "S'alright, Nib," he strained. "Just going to take some time."

*****

Giles held her, rocking her. The tears were flowing in childlike sobs. This was so wrong. So horribly wrong. And the voice had lied. Lied. She was dying and that was all. Anya twitched, choking, then fell limp against his legs. The sobbing stopped. The tears were silent. Giles reached to her throat, letting his fingers press to her flesh. He felt a thump. Then another. Then nothing more.

It was done.

He had killed her.

"Oh, Anya," he whispered, brushing blood stained hair from her face. "I am sorry. So terribly sorry."

The words were choked off. Quiet.

"This should never have happened. You shouldn't have been here. God, I wish that Quentin would pay. That he could never hurt any of us again."

Anya's eyes flew open, staring up at Giles in confusion. "Granted," she whispered, pulling herself upright. Giles gasped, scampering back against the wall, watching the dead girl sit. Then stand. Her features morphed into that of the demon.

"Anya?" His voice was shaky. She looked at him, letting her features flash back to human for just one moment.

"Stay safe, Rupert. I'll be back in a flash."

With that, she disappeared into the fire and rubble; leaving the dazed Watcher huddled in the corner.

*****

He was asleep when he heard the door open. His body tensed defensively, his drowsy mind trying to focus on the door. Two figures walked quietly through, letting the door click shut behind them.

"It's alright, Spike."

"Cyrus?" Spike questioned, trying to shake the sleep from his voice.

"Yes."

"Is it over?"

"We can talk," the Watcher responded quietly. "This is the doctor. She's... well... a demon."

"A hybrid," the woman answered, smiling softly. "Convenient for this household, I'd imagine."

The woman was pretty. Dark haired. Blue eyed. Looked completely human. "Can you help her?" Spike asked.

"I can try," the woman answered, moving into the soft lamplight. "My name is Takina."

"Spike," he said softly. "Buffy." Spike nodded down at his love.

"I'm acquainted with the legend." Takina smiled slyly. Spike attempted to return it, but only mustered a quiver in the corner of his mouth.

"You're a real doc?"

"I work at Sunnydale General," the woman answered, dropping her leather bag gently on the bed and moving closer to Buffy. "I just have a little more knowledge of the arcane."

Spike nodded, understanding. She treated demons as well. And sicknesses that humans had never dreamed of.

The woman leaned towards Buffy and then stopped, looking politely at Spike. "May I?"

She was of the old ways, Spike thought. The Vampire respected that. Again, he nodded and the doctor dropped gentle fingers to Buffy's face, touching her wounds. "It'll take some time to examine her."

"Why don't we go and talk," Cyrus said, extending his hand to Spike. Spike looked at the Watcher, then the doctor. Then at Buffy.

"I shouldn't leave her."

"I promise to take care of her. It'll go much faster this way," Takina said warmly. Spike thought for a moment, sizing the woman up. She could be trusted. He sensed that.

"Right then," Spike said, defeated. He leaned down, kissing Buffy's nose. "Be right next door, Pet."

He let Cyrus pull him up and lead him from the room.

*****

Giles waited an eternity for her return. In actuality, it had only been moments when she reappeared in the darkness. Shock and confusion had made the wait seem longer. "We need to go," Anya said quietly, thrusting her hand towards Giles and helping him to his feet. Her face was human again, but flat. Emotionless.

"What... what happened?"

"This way," Anya stated, clutching his hand and leading him through the rubble.

"Anya. You... you died," Giles stuttered, at a loss for words.

"I did," she answered, simply. "But I made a deal before it happened."

Suddenly, the pieces fell into place in Giles' rattled mind. The voice. D'Hoffryn. "So, you're a..."

"A Vengeance Demon. Well, sort of," she continued, crinkling her nose. "Time to talk later, but now we need to go."

Giles stopped, her arm tugging her to a halt with him. "The wish. What did you do?"

Anya looked at Giles softly. "Does it matter?"

"It does."

She shrugged, dropping her hands to her sides. "It's my first day back. Not to mention rising from the dead and all..."

"Anya?" Giles chastised.

"I willed Draconius's spirit into the box of Oraclese and I stole Quentin's memory of the First Evil. Of Draconius." She stopped. Thinking. "Oh, and I broke his legs. He deserved it. And every time he tries to do a spell, he will become a goat for a few days."

"You... you didn't kill him?" Giles asked, deeply surprised.

Anya sighed. "Long story. But he won't be able to harm anyone."

Giles smiled at her softly. "Where should we go?"

Anya thought for a moment. "I don't... they're not ready for this. Not yet. Me neither, come to think of it. I just... do you have someplace where I can just... hide.. until I figure all this out?"

The Watcher stared at her compassionately. "I know just the place."

To be contd.

Good afternoon, All:)

Well, here it is. The Epilogue to The Evil Within. This chapter occurs four months from the end of the book and ties up a few of the loose threads in the story. It *also* opens up a new one.

That's right. A new one.

The feedback both on this list and on ff.net has been overwhelming. I had an idea for a fifth book, but I didn't really know if I could or even should do it. To be honest, I was deathly afraid that this story had become tedious and that you all were getting bored with my whims.

What I have heard the most is "This is how it should have gone." Not so much in the happy family way, but in the sense that Buffy and Spike could have been brought together without losing the story or without losing angst and drama. I began to write this story for that very reason. To prove it *could* be done. I may *not* be (ok, I know I am not) as talented a writer as those employed by ME, but I do think that if I could have made it work, then they could have as well.

Many people have responded to let me know that the story has given them hope on other levels. That despite all the bad stuff in all of our lives, there is someone who loves us. There are kind people. People who will help. If I did that for even one of you, then I am unendingly happy to write this story.

I wrote it this way because I believe that to be true.

There are happy endings. There is hope. And there are always those who love us.

So, that being said, thank you to all of you who have read this story. Thank you millions of times over for those who write me to tell me what you have liked and what you have not. The feedback makes this story. I know there are a lot of you who have written me, but a few of you write me quite a lot to tell me what you think. So special thanks to Karen, J, Bittn, Fallowdoe, Mary Anne, Cindy, Crystal, Misa, Kristi, LML, Sheri, Sharon, Heather, T, Thia, Rachel, Redd, lise, and dozens others that I do not mean to forget but am getting too misty to remember:) Oh, and to BAPS list moms Alane and Laurie for putting up with my monster posts of fic:)

Special thanks to someone who came out of the woodwork to offer to proof some of my work when I needed it (which I invariable do). So thank you PSUbrat for being a great help to me.

Lastly, and mostly, thank you endlessly, a million times over, to my beta and my friend, Eliz. Without you, none of this would have ever come into being. I would have chickened out after book two and scared everyone with the sheer quantities of typographical errors. To the one that shared Red Bull cocktails and had me saying "He's not an unattractive man" for 72 hours straight (did we sleep?), endless thanks. I am better as a writer for your beta-ing, and better as a person to have known you.

That being said, here is the Epilgoue of Book Four. As I have gotten myself all sentimental, you had better write me and tell me how you feel or I will be in need of a group hug and therapy (if I am not already:)).

Again, many thanks.

*Cheery Vibes*, Nimue

"As sick as it sounds, in my little head, there's a little Sunnydale, and a widdle Buffy, and a widdle Spike, and Spike wubs Buffy." James Marsters 14 July 2002

Oh, and expect Book Five sometime the week of the premier ;)

Title: Girls and Boys (The Evil Within - Epilogue)

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: Four months later. A covert team of soldiers discover the remains of the shattered ritual of the First. Including one item that they should have never found. Anya informs Giles that she is ready to go back to Sunnydale and face her past. But how will Giles react? Spike is put in what he deems as the most uncomfortable position of them all, but he is rewarded with the revelation of a lifetime.

Girls and Boys

The grass of the manor's manicured yard flattened with the force of compressed air. The tree branches bowed and bent as if pushed down forcibly by the hands of a giant. A roaring whir filled the silent air and a thud followed as the helicopter touched down on the turf.

Three teams of three, all in black, poured out of the gaping black hulls of the beasts. They scattered onto the grass, heads ducked under the whirling blades. They gathered together like warring tribes of hi-tech ants underneath the cover of the wood linee as the flying juggernauts lifted back into the night.

"Captain?" A young soldier breathed as soon as the air was heavy enough to again carry voice.

"Yes, Perez?" The commander answered. His voice was measured, his tone almost kind.

"Not sure why we're on this mission, Sir. I mean no disrespect, but doesn't the Supernatural Investigation Unit have better leads to follow than a four month old hot spot... Sir?" The last word was added almost as an afterthought. Not because Perez did not respect his leader, but because they had grown used to their commander as their confidant as well.

Perez stood stock still at attention, his weapon leaned against his side, resting from hip to chest. He expected an answer.

"Not our job to question orders, Perez," the Captain answered in the same measured voice. "The mission is to clear the manner cave system, contain Draconius in the person of Quentin Travers, and recover any artifacts that may lead us to the location of the Prophesy. To protect and to serve, Unit," he added, with a dashing smile. "Then report back to base. That's all we need to know."

"Yes, Sir," Perez clipped back, clicking his heels together.

"Draconius is said to be one of the most powerful forces in any dimension. If freed from his host, he could inhabit any environment, indefinitely, until a new host is found. Use extreme caution, boys." The Captain eyed his troops carefully. "And ladies," he continued, addressing two smaller, but no less powerful forms in the group. The darker haired woman smiled slyly back at the Captain, almost making the fearless leader blush. The younger, blonde girl snorted in disgust.

"Can we get on with this?" the blonde girl asked, raising her sidearm and aiming at a distant tree.

"We will go when I say we go, Adams," the metered voice responded.

He was quiet a moment, formulating the best course of action. "Perez, Adams, Jackson, take the upper levels. Keep an eye out for the old man. Marshall, Barnes, Palmer, take the northern caves. Robinson and *you*," he continued, pointing at the dark haired woman "Are with me. Any questions?"

The group shook a collective head like brainwashed zombies. "Good luck. Come back alive," the commander concluded. The teams stalked silently into the bushes.

*****

"Rupert?" Her voice was drowsy and rather sultry, he thought, as she rolled over, flopping an arm over his naked chest.

Ask me a year ago if I would be in bed with a girl both half and twenty times my age at once, and I would have laughed, Giles thought. Ask me if I'd be waking up next to a Vengeance Demon and I may have punched you. Ask me if I'd be waking up next to Anya and wanting nothing more than to stay huddled next to her soft, sweet skin, I may have choked.

But a lot happens in a year.

Even more happens in four months.

It had started innocently enough. Giles on the couch. Anya in the bed. Often, they talked most of the night and both ended up sleeping a respectable distance apart next to the fire. Then D'Hoffyrn began to call. And Anya began to work. Not long after, the nightmares started. She'd wake up screaming. Crying. Gasping for air. Sometimes it was the remembrances of past deeds. Sometimes her work. Most often, it was the night in the cave. Cold steel plunging into her heart, night after night after night.

Against every fiber of his being, Giles had suggested that maybe maintaining the soul was not the best course of action. His heart broke at the idea, knowing that the soul was what had truly held her to humanity. She flat out refused. Said there was another way. She'd just have to survive until she found it.

And like every survivor, she did.

Every night that she screamed, Giles was by her side before she even awoke. Comforting her. Letting her cry. Bringing her back from the dead one nightmare at a time. At first, he did it because he owed her. Then because he wanted to help. Then because he loved to see her smile when the horror had passed.

It started with foreheads pressed to one another. Holding each other together despite the hurt. Giles found himself brushing her tears away. Then kissing them from her cheeks. He melted the first time she let her lips brush his, inhaling her breath, her scent. As her small palms held his face and her mouth searched his, Giles realized that there was more to it than compassion or pity or obligation. He could almost feel himself falling, drowning in the woman who was his equal and his friend.

Giles ran from her that night. A gentleman does not take advantage of a woman in so much pain. Even if her skin smelled like raspberries and her beautiful eyes were smoky and heavy with want. Even if her perfect, lithe body was pressed involuntarily against him in the most delightful ways.

A gentleman just didn't, but damned if he didn't want to.

But when she came to him weeks later, happy and alive after spending the day aimlessly walking through the woods and meadows, he didn't refuse. He didn't refuse her kisses. Nor the sweet softness with which she undressed him. Nor the gentle luxury with which she made love to him.

In the cruelest of beginnings, Fate had given him the kindest of chances.

"Yes, my love," Giles answered, rolling on his side to face her. Her hair was a wild tangle across her face, making her look young and free.

"I think I'm ready," she said firmly, brushing the hair from her eyes so she could look at him.

Giles blinked. Ready for what?, he thought. With Anya, it could be anything from breakfast to bingo to babies. "For what, dear?"

"To go home," she answered in the same, confident tone.

Giles blinked again. *That*, he hadn't expected. She had seemed utterly content here. With him. In this life. "Alright," he whispered, sitting up and fetching his glasses from the nightstand. She watched him cautiously, pulling the sheet to her naked chest and sitting up against the pillows.

"I thought you would be happy," Anya said, her brow furrowed in confusion. "To go home and see Buffy and Emma and take over our store again and make large amounts of money..."

"I am happy, " Giles replied unconvincingly, standing and beginning to dress. Face it, he thought, she was through the transition. Used to the idea of being not quite demon and not quite human. Ready to go back to her life. Back to Xander. No need for an old man.

"Rupie?" She questioned. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing, dear," he muttered, carefully buttoning his shirt. "I'll go make the arrangements."

Anya was silent, watching. It fell together like puzzle pieces. "Rupert," she said, the chirp gone and a softer, more serious tone in her voice. Giles turned from the doorway to face her. "You are really one of the stupidest people I know," she snapped, rising up from the bed.

He would have noticed her anger, her offense, were he not distracted by the fact that she was standing stark naked, her arms crossed over her pretty breasts, bare foot tapping on the cold wooden floor.

"Uh...Uh," Giles stammered, not sure if his composure had been lost in her comment or her bareness. "You'll catch cold."

It was all he could think of to say.

Anya burst into a fit of giggles, running at him and nearly knocking him back through the doorway. He caught her, her hands on her bare hips, her legs wrapped around his waist. "Rupert," she sighed as if scolding a frustrating child. "This isn't temporary. I want to go back *with* you." She unbuttoned his neatly buttoned shirt as she spoke. "I want more of *this*," she continued, kissing him softly. "Just back where we belong. With our friends. This is permanent, you know, and I won't die, so it'll take a lot to get rid of me." She punctuated every word with a kiss and the unfastening of an article of clothing.

She's like a very pleasant, beautiful, little monkey, Giles thought as she executed a perfect back bend and pulled his dress pants to his ankles.

"And I'll never get wrinkly or saggy," Anya chirped as Giles backed her towards the bed.

"Well, that is an advantage," Giles replied. "Not that I care much about that."

Anya was still. This she actually believed. This was the difference.

A quiet settled over them. Giles broke. "Anya, what about Xander?" He sat gently on the bed, her body still tangled around his. She stayed in his lap, arms draped over his shoulders, thinking.

"He never really loved me," she said frankly. "And I don't think he ever would."

Giles stared at her a moment. "Anya, I don't want you to settle for me."

"Do you love me, Rupert?" She asked. Her face, her eyes, were more naked than her body.

His hand traveled to her face, delicately tracing her jaw. "Yes, Anya."

"I never settled," she whispered. " I was just waiting for Mr. Right." She was silent, watching the relief in his face. "Maybe we should wait a little longer before going back."

*****

"Captain?" A male voice sounded from a corner of the cavern.

"What is it, Robinson?" The commander asked, striding to his subordinate's position.

Robinson raised a small wooden puzzle box, dusting it with black- gloved hands. It looked ancient. Older than time. "What is it, Sir?" The soldier asked. The dark haired female came over and peered almost intimately over her superior's shoulder.

"Box of Oraclese," the woman said frankly, a tone of pride in her voice.

The Captain turned, his gaze settling on the girl. "Very good, soldier," he said, wanting to pat her on the rump but honour and integrity controlling his urges.

"What does it do?" Robinson asked.

"Nothing at the moment. Just a box from legends. It's supposed to be able to contain demons and spirits," the commander answered, rolling the box in one broad palm.

"How do you know it's empty, Sir?" Robinson questioned, eyeing the wood with suspicion.

"Because it held Draconius last, and we know he's in possession of Travers," the Captain answered.

"You couldn't open it anyway," the female soldier teased. "You suck at puzzles."

"Is that a challenge, soldier?" The Captain asked, eyes close to undressing the girl. His eyebrows raised in anticipation. She snorted indignantly as his hands began to spin through the maze.

"You *sure* that thing is empty, sir?" Robinson asked, absently backing away.

"Stand down, soldier. Just legend," the Captain responded, hands deftly working the puzzle.

"What happens if it's not?" Robinson asked the woman.

"Myth has it that the spirit jumps from the box and enters the nearest host," she answered. Robinson backed further away, the hairs on the back of his neck standing at attention. "*Myth*," she toyed, watching his discomfort grow.

The box opened with a pop and hiss of air. The Captain sighed, satisfied. Nothing happened. Robinson's shoulders relaxed visibly. "See? Legen...:"

The commander's words were cut short by an explosion of blinding, white light. It arced from the box like electricity, piercing the commanding officer's eyes. Robinson's gun clattered to the floor as he fled back through the entryway. The woman screamed. The Captain seized, electricity jolting though his body in waves. The light suddenly stopped and the Captain fell to his knees.

"Oh... *God*... are you alright," the female soldier asked, dropping down next to him, all semblance of chain of command gone. Her lover choked and gasped in front of her. "Are you OK?" She repeated, shaking his shoulders, her voice wavering.

The Captain was still for a moment, and then turned empty, black eyes on his mate. "I'm fine," he answered, smiling. The gesture was empty. Hollow.

"Wh..what happened?" She whispered, pushing hair from his face.

He clenched and unclenched his fists, feeling the power surge through him. "Nothing, my love," he answered, his voice thick Different.

"We.. we should abort, Let the med unit take a look at you," the girl stuttered, helping him to his feet.

"Why?" He asked, wobbling at first, then regaining his balance. "I've never been better."

"C'mon," she pleaded, tugging at his kevlar vest. "We need to get orders."

"I *have* orders," the Captain answered in the same, hollow tone. "Find Peace. Search and Destroy."

*****

Spike slumped in the chair in the sterile, pale green waiting room. His feet shuffled, his body shifting positions every few seconds. Horrible. There was no greater torture than hospital waiting rooms. Glory has been nothing compared to sterile, pale green walls.

"Are you going to tell me what's wrong, or am I going to have to sit here watching all these people staring at the pale fish out of water guy against the wall?" Buffy asked, tossing her magazine to a side table.

"Don't know why we need to be here," Spike grumbled.

"Um... baby," She answered, turning herself in her seat to face him. Even five months pregnant she looked tiny in the wide chair.

"I *know* that, Pet," he conceded, giving the swell in her belly a quick, gentle pat. "But why do we need to be *here*?"

"Not liking of the hospitals?" She asked, crinkling her nose.

"No," he answered simply, in that upper class tone he only took with her or one of the Watchers.

"It's a check up," Buffy said softly, her fingers playing in his.

"Love, I can *hear* the baby. Vampire, remember? I assure you, she's fine," Spike continued, arms crossing over his chest indignantly.

"She?" Buffy grinned, batting her eyelashes at Spike.

"C'mon, Pet. Only be Fate that there'd be another Summers girl to come long and lead old Spike round the bend. Wrap me around another pretty little finger," he whined, pulling his arms tighter against his chest.

"Oh, give it a rest," Buffy replied, rolling her eyes. "You love it."

"When you behave," Spike shot back.

"Funny, seems we're *here* because I didn't," she hmmph'd, crossing her arms. "Didn't seem to mind then."

"Buffy," Spike sighed.

"Just suck it up, Big Bad," she snapped.

"Buffy," he uttered again, realizing that she was now actually quite ticked. Moody bint, he thought, frustration getting the better of him. "I just don't understand why we're here this time. I mean, we never did this with Emma."

Buffy glared at him, her eyes changing like storm clouds passing across the sky. "You weren't *here*," Buffy snarled. Immediately as the last word oozed from her lips, tears filled her eyes.

Bloody *hell*, he thought. Now the tears. Lucked out the first go round.

The look of sheer sadness filled her eyes. No matter how annoyed he was with her, that was the *one* thing he couldn't bear. Emotional terror or not, she was his and he loved her and it was his job to make her happy.

Some days were just easier than others.

Slowly, he wrapped his arm around Buffy's shoulders, pulling her head against him. "S'alright, Pet. Didn't mean to get you all soggy." Buffy giggled as he wiped tears from her cheeks. "Just not much at the whole hospital experience and a little confused as to the change in approach, is all. But," Spike sighed, resigned. "If my beautiful girl needs to be here, then here we are."

"Thank you," she sniffled. "And there *is* a reason."

A nurse came to the doorway. "Buffy Windsor?" Her voice was kind. Gentle. Used to dealing with emotional women, Spike thought. Buffy hopped up, turning towards Spike and extending her hand.

Spike froze, visions of ancient torture devices, curved metal, horrible, prodding instruments, dancing behind his eyes. "Uh, Buffy," Spike sputtered. "I'll wait here with the rest of the blokes."

"Would you come on?" Buffy whined, shaking her outstretched hand.

"Buffy, I'm likely to go all fangy - grr, if I see that..." Spike stuttered, his eyes pleading to let him stay in the nice sterile, pale, green waiting room.

"Eeeewwww," Buffy responded, squinching her face. "Nothing like that."

"Buffy," he whined once more. Last ditch effort.

"Now!" she snapped, turning on a heel and following the nurse.

*****

Spike paced around the back of the darkened room, patting his coat pockets for a cigarette. Hadn't smoked in years now, but the habit of looking for them hadn't changed. His tact with his Slayer had changed from defiance to pleading.

"Buffy, I shouldn't be here," he uttered, nervously.

"Relax, already," she answered from the table. She was still dressed in sweats and a t-shirt. Couldn't even tell she was pregnant in those clothes. Guess that's how she wants it, Spike thought. Couldn't understand that. To him, she was just as sexy and even more beautiful with that pretty swell of a tummy that he put there. Up to him, she should walk around naked all day. Well, at least round him.

The strange deluge of R-rated Buffy thoughts distracted him until two women walked through the door. One he recognized as Takina. As soon as he saw the artificial light in the hall, he bolted for the door.

"Stop him," Buffy sighed. Takina put out one hand, planting it firmly in his chest.

"Stay," the doctor scolded, slyly smiling at the Vampire. He smirked at her, but backed up against the wall, outnumbered by estrogen.

Story of my life, Spike thought.

Takina moved to address Buffy. "As you plan on delivering at home again, and as the child is of a ... supernatural... parentage, I will stay with the obstetrician. When the time comes, I will be there to deliver the child."

Buffy nodded, watching Takina as the other doctor shook a bottle then squirted blue goo all over her belly. Spike winced, watching her flinch at the cold, but he could feel that she was calm and hear the rain like beat of her heart interspersed with the barely audible patter of the child's. He closed his eyes, listening. Tuning out everything but the beautiful music of heartbeats.

"You might want to see this," Takina whispered. She had made it all the way to his ear without him taking notice. Her lips were centimeters from the side of his face. Spike jumped, eyes opening wide.

"What?" Spike asked.

Takina pointed at a monitor. Spike glanced at it, then over at Buffy. She was still mostly dressed, lying there as the other doctor moved the paddle over her. "Go," Takina said softly.

Spike walked forward, genuinely curious, and stood next to Buffy. She was crying softly. He put his hand on her head, pulling it against his hip and twining her hair around her fingers. Takina moved next to the monitor. Spike tried to focus, but wasn't seeing much.

Then it fluttered. Came into focus. Like one of those paintings that make sense only when looked at the right way.

"My God," he gasped, making Buffy chuckle.

"Wonders of modern technology," she said, tears still streaming down her cheeks. He understood, for once. He was getting a little misty himself.

"Do you want to know?" Takina asked, looking at Buffy.

"Can you tell?" Buffy asked.

"With this one," Takina laughed.

"What... what's wrong?" Spike questioned, lost.

Buffy looked over at him. He was staring wide-eyed, fascinated by the tiny, fluttering picture. She smiled. "Nothing's wrong. She wants to know if we want to know the sex."

Spike looked down at her, brushing pretty blonde hair from her cheeks. "Up to you, Pet."

Buffy turned back to Takina, looking thoughtfully at the screen. Finally, she nodded.

*****

They laid quietly in their bed, the late afternoon sunlight bathing the room in a golden glow. Buffy lay on her side, Spike spooned behind her, one hand under his head, the other protectively around her waist.

"You still mad about me dragging you to the hospital?" Buffy asked, pushing in closer.

Softly, he kissed her neck. "No, Pet."

"I wanted to see. I wanted you to see," she whispered. "I wanted..."

"You were right, Love. I'm glad you made me stay," Spike interrupted, his lips wandering over her bare shoulders. "Amazing."

Buffy smiled. "Pretty neat, hunh?"

He answered with a kiss to the nape of her neck that made her entire body shiver. She hummed, backing closer to him under the sheet. "So what do you think?" She asked.

"About?" he asked, planting more kisses along the back of her shoulders.

"Everything," she sighed, distracted by his breath on her neck.

"I think you're beautiful," Spike whispered, his nose nuzzling the shell of her earlobe.

"I'm getting fat," Buffy said quietly. She meant it. Not this, he thought, rolling her onto her back and pulling the sheet from her naked form.

"No," Spike said, his voice lowering, becoming husky. "You are more beautiful now than ever."

"I'm bigger this time," she whispered, shyly.

"Buffy," he sighed, kissing her nose. "You're still half the size of most of the women who are *not* in a family way in this world. Not to mention that you are amazingly sexy," he continued, planting beautifully placed kisses along her collar bones. "And beyond all of *that*," he went on, leaning down to kiss her belly, "That is my son. He should be bigger. He's no poof."

Buffy giggled as he kissed every square inch of her naked stomach, then worked his way back to her lips. "You really think I am pretty?"

"I think you *know* the answer to that," Spike purred in a husky, breathless voice, pressing close to her. Her body melted under his lips. His hand stayed planted on her belly. "What do you want to name our son?" He asked, pride filling him.

"You're liking of the boy-child," Buffy quipped, wrapping her hand over his.

"Can't help it," he said. "Little me runnin round the place. Kind of endearing, innit?"

Buffy shuddered. "Yikes!"

"What?" Spike gasped in mock offense.

"Two yous?" Buffy complained, crinkling her nose.

"Problem with that, Pet?" He asked, hiding a smile.

"No," she giggled in response. "But we might want to start saving bail money."

Spike stopped his wandering kisses, gasping at her in feigned horror. "Well, if *that*'s what you think," he complained, rolling away. She grabbed his wrist, pulling him back to her. Spike fell back against her warm body willingly.

"William," Buffy finally answered, pulling his hand back to the baby with hers.

Spike blinked up at her. "You sure?"

"Just... I dunno... feels right," Buffy replied, shrugging.

"William," he repeated. "My son William. Maybe it'll suit him better than it did me."

"I don't know," Buffy said, turning her eyes toward Spike and catching him in her gaze. "I think it suits you too."

Spike swallowed. "I'm no poof. I'm not that sodding poet..."

Buffy stopped his rant with a bruising kiss. He immediately melted into her, forgetting the ramble. "I love you, Spike. You know that. All of you," Buffy whispered, breathy as she came up for air.

"And I'm hopelessly in love with you," Spike sighed.

"Hopelessly?" She questioned, smiling.

"Always," Spike answered, pulling her tighter against him.

"Every day?" Buffy asked, staring up into endless, perfect blue eyes.

"Every day," Spike repeated, his mouth pressing, once again, to hers.

Fin