Meant to Be

Title: Just Beyond Sense (Chapter Thirty-six - Meant to Be)

Author: Nimue

Rating: PG-13

Pairing: Spike/Buffy (Most major characters included)

Feedback: Yes, please NimueofAvalon71 (at) yahoo.com

Disclaimer: All characters belong to someone other than me; they belong to Mutant Enemy, Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Angel the Series, Fox, UPN, WB, their affiliates, lawyers and all sorts of other folks that aren’t me. :::sigh::::

Summary: Spike begins to tell Joyce of his mission, with Emma’s help. Angel and his team enter the Crawford Street Mansion and find out that something evil lurks beneath.

Just Beyond Sense

Spike stood stock still, staring at the golden apparition before him. Why he didn’t expect something like this, he couldn’t say. It was never easy. Couldn’t be the soul of Riley Finn or something that he could just say ‘bugger off’ and choose a new one.

Had to be someone he loved.

Had to be someone who deserved to have her family back.

“Joyce?” Spike said softly, reaching out towards the woman. With a smile, she returned the gesture, wrapping her hand in his. It wasn’t so much as a touch as she wasn’t quite real. She wasn’t quite… there. It was more of a warmth, a feeling, than contact.

“Spike,” the woman responded. “How are my girls?”

It was the Vampire’s turn to smile. “Beauties, as always. Dawn’s getting married, less that wanker does *one* thing wrong in the meantime. And Buffy….”

“Another baby,” Joyce answered, beaming. She looked around Spike at the elegant young woman in his wake. “That can’t… how can…”

Spike craned his head and chuckled, taking his daughter’s hand and pulling her to his side. “This is Emma. Though back home, she’s a right bit smaller.”

A shimmering golden hand pressed over a ghostly mouth as Joyce’s eyes filled with tears. “I remember seeing… God, she looks just like…”

“Like Buffy,” Spike completed, squeezing his daughter’s hand. “Bit taller, from the looks of things.”

Joyce chuckled. “She has your eyes, though.”

Emma took a step forward, feeling that familial connection without ever truly knowing her grandmother, and wrapped her arms around the woman. “Thank you.”

A gulp and tears welled behind not-quite-eyes. “For what, Emma?” Joyce answered, running her hands over the girl’s golden hair.

“For my family. Were it not for you, my mum would not be the woman that she became. My father might not have had a chance. And my brother… he would not have even…” the girl continued, clinging to the woman, trying to take what may be her only opportunity to tell her grandmother she loved her.

“You know?” Joyce asked, pushing the girl back to look into her eyes. “How do you know about Will? About…”

“She’s a native, Joyce,” Spike interrupted, watching the scene with rising emotion. Knowing what was coming. “An emissary - a daughter - to the pretty bird that runs the show here.”

“The Sky Queen?” Joyce asked. “You’re…”

“Hers. As well as theirs,” Emma answered, nodding at her father. “I am Peace.”

A furrowed brow and Spike began to think of an explanation for what his daughter had said. Instead of a question, however, Joyce merely answered, “I know.”

With all that lay in front of them the Vampire felt that now was not the time to press further. What one knew, what one saw, after spending time in this place… there was no way to quantify. And Emma… just being near her, one could tell she truly was Peace.

Another tight embrace and Joyce tugged Spike in with them. Her touch was a tingle, a warm glow. The feeling he had when he was alone with Buffy just holding her hand, or telling bedtime stories with Will curled up under one wing and Emma the other. The feeling of hot chocolate with little white…

‘Hot chocolate with the white petals in the dark brown. Sweet like a girl’s blood.’ Dru’s voice ripped through his addled mind. ‘A golden soul with tips of roses.’

“She knew,” Spike repeated under his breath.

Emma turned her head and smiled sadly. “She knew many things, father.”

“Who?” Joyce asked, loosening the embrace but not letting go of either one. “What?”

With a sigh, Spike took a step back. He couldn’t accept that warmth, that home, knowing what he had to do. “Drusilla,” he answered quietly.

“Drusilla?” Joyce asked. “Is she… back?”

Spike shook his head, waves of grief that he hadn’t had a chance to feel welling up in his chest. “She’s gone, Joyce.”

“Oh, Spike,” the woman whispered, understanding even now the connections the held people together. Love. Grief. Forgiveness. She pulled him back against her, wrapping those warm, soothing arms around him and he almost allowed himself to grieve.

Almost.

With a gasp of effort, Spike pulled back again and looked the kindest woman he’d known since he’d looked upon his own mum. “She told me things, Joyce. Things I think you need to hear.”

A flash of worry crossed the eldest Summers’ face and she crossed her arms against a chill that only she felt. “What is it Spike? Is it… Is Buffy…Is it the baby?”

Spike nodded once, trying to look away. But Joyce deserved to be met eye to eye. Even if he was going to break her heart.

~~~@~~~@~~~

Tara knelt in a dark corner of the courtyard outside of the mansion, sprinkling herbs around her in a circle and chanting softly. Cordy paced behind her, watching the darkness like a lioness guarding her den.

“You done yet?” The prom queen asked, her voiced laced with annoyance and concern.

“Almost,” Tara answered quietly, “I need to concentrate.”

“Wesley always says that too,” Cordelia huffed. “It’s supposed to just go Presto-You-Have-A-Magic-Shield”

With a chuckle, Tara wrote off Cordy’s aggravation as the concern she knew it was and let it go. “Just a moment more.” Another series of chants and Tara tossed a handful of sage into the candle flame in front of her. “Protectus.”

A white light glowed around her and Cordelia felt it surround her as well like a warm, blanket of light and heat. “Tingly.”

“A little,” Tara conceded, concentrating, but more relaxed now that the spell was cast. “Shouldn’t get in their way.”

“Let’s hope to God it *does*”, the dark-haired beauty snarked in response.

~~~@~~~@~~~

“Quite effective,” Wesley commented, shuddering as the ward wrapped around him. Ahead of him in the darkened hall, Xander shook like a dog, and then settled back into stride. Gunn did a spine-chill dance and calmed immediately. And Angel just shrugged.

At least it had reached them all.

“I don’t see anything here, big guy,” Gunn whispered as they walked down the corridor toward the basement. There was no sign of habitation on the first level and Angel thought it the best bet to try downstairs, where there was no light, as the second avenue of search.

“It... it feels wrong,” Xander considered, hefting the battle axe over his left shoulder and checking for the stake in tucked in the back of his jeans. “Like…”

“Like everything is just below the surface,” Wesley commented. “Just beyond our sight.”

Angel nodded. “Spike had mentioned that this Master had Powers that were… different.”

“Disguising an entire household, though?” Gunn asked, sticking close to Angel’s back, the four of them huddled together like a pack with Angel in the lead.

“I don’t know if they could disguise everything,” Wesley answered. “But it’s certainly possible to place a glamour over what they do not want us to see…”

“Can we … un-glamorize it?” Xander asked, shivering again.

“Do we want to?” Gunn added, chuckling a little.

“Point taken,” Xander shot back.

“If you two can’t shut up…” Angel snapped. “Wesley, do you think you can pull off the dust cover and see what’s underneath?”

“Simple enough to do,” Wesley answered, feeling the energy pool in his body as he began to concentrate. “Although there is a certain level of truth in what Charles was saying. Are we truly prepared for what lies beneath?”

Angel turned and the other three stopped shortly before colliding with him. “We’re here to take out the Master that threatens my line, not to tiptoe around like some bad Scooby Doo movie.” With an inhalation of needless breath, he faced Wesley and continued. “Do it.”

The Watcher nodded and took a deep breath, pooling power until it bubbled from his body. He could feel Tara struggle to hold the ward, feel what he was doing, and let go long enough for Wesley to spout one word.

*Illuminata*.

Tara snapped the ward back into place as the power bubbled forth from the man and all that they saw around them reshaped. Dusty rooms became epic halls. Empty chambers became full of laughter and the sounds of Vampires supping. Dingy grays and cobweb filled blacks became crimson and marble and stone.

The three humans pressed closer together.

“How come I feel like I just walked into the lion’s den?” Gunn asked, looking around, horrified.

“Uh, cause we did,” Xander agreed.

“Actually, we’re in no more danger than we were before we saw it. Less even. Just because we couldn’t see them….” Wesley commented.

“The old dog with his head under the pillow defense,” Harris commented, nodding. “Thinks just because he can’t see *you* you can’t see *him* even though his whole big, hairy bottom is hanging out from under the pillow.”

“Crude, but precisely,” Wesley answered.

“So, boss, what do we do now?” Gunn asked, feeling the darkness of the creatures beginning to close in around them.

“Uh, fight?” Angel answered as several of the doors into the corridor opened at once and a dozen yellow eyes stared at them from all angles. “Well.”

~~~@~~~@~~~

Joyce sat down again, her feet dangling above the brown sugar soil as she rested on her cloud. “What is it, Spike? What’s wrong?”

She patted the cloud and he settled down next to her. It felt like one of those comfortable foam beanbag chairs that the kids had. Soft and squishy and like one could sleep away their days in it.

Sleep away their souls.

“New tot,” Spike began. “One that’s on its way.”

How did he do this without flat out breaking her? And let it be her choice?

“Dru told me before she di…Before she … went away, that the soul that would be… her… well…”

“Is me,” Joyce completed. “I know, Spike. The Sky Queen asked me if I’d go…”

Spike’s eyes widened and he looked at his daughter for the courage to move on. Emma nodded, sitting down behind Spike and resting her head on his shoulder, filling him with her calm. “Remember a while back, Joyce, daft bloke named Luke and an evil bastard… Gwydion.”

Joyce shook at the sound of the names. She didn’t ever remember meeting them, but their names, their darkness, scarred her very soul. She nodded in reply.

“The two of them have started a little movement to get at us. You see, it’s not really good business for the hell dimensions to have Emma here in existence, what with the ending all the wars and bringing peace. Sort of cuts down on the damned souls. So, they’ve made it a personal mission to try any way they can to get at the tot. And at Buffy and me because they know that to get near her, they’ll have to take out both of us.” Spike paused, taking a deep breath and watching Joyce’s face. It was torn between a smile and a frown, twitching from one to the other in the blink of an eye.

“She couldn’t be better protected,” the woman finally commented.

Spike nodded. “Won’t let a creature of heaven, hell or anywhere in between lay a hand on my girls,” Spike preened, puffing out his chest. The gesture reminded her so much of the blustery Spike she’d met long ago, she had to smile.

”And I am guessing your trip up here has something to do with these two…. morons,” Joyce commented. It was Spike’s turn to smile. He loved how Joyce could turn a fairly mild jab into a razor sharp insult just by the glint in her eye and the tone in her voice. Buffy had the same talent, although not always the same grace.

“It does,” Spike continued, the cheer disappearing from his voice. “When they took you, Joyce, when they… defiled… you….” Anger bubbled to the surface as he thought of her helplessly being guided to harm her own. “They left a mark.”

Joyce nodded in response. “I feel it.” Instinctively, she turned to Emma. “Will it always be there? It’s like a dirty spot on my good china.”

Emma smiled sadly. “No grandmother. It will fade over time. And it will have no effect on you or on your family while you are here.”

It was almost as if cartoon light bulbs had shuddered to life above both sets of heads. Spike was amazed that Emma had phrased it so simply and with as little pain as possible. Joyce’s heart dropped out of her chest, realizing what the child’s words meant.

“While I’m here,” Joyce repeated. “In other words….”

Spike shook his head. “We can’t… I can’t… tell you what to… God, Joyce!” He stood up, punching the air in front of him like a petulant child. “I don’t want to tell you…”

“But it has to be my choice,” Joyce answered, all the pieces coming together.

Spike nodded, feeling the anger mixing with the grief that was bubbling with frustration to a fine mixture of emotional breakdown.

“What if I say no?”

To be contd.

Title: Choosing Home(Chapter Thirty-seven - Meant to Be)

Author: Nimue

Rating: PG-13

Pairing: Spike/Buffy (Most major characters included)

Feedback: Yes, please NimueofAvalon71 (at) yahoo.com

Summary: Angel and Company raid the mansion, however, they take a casualty. Spike and Joyce conclude their conversation, but there’s still work to be done. Choices to be made.

Choosing Home

“Fan out!” Angel ordered as the Vampires around them began to take notice. Most of them seemed young to the eldest of the Aurelians. But there were a few that dated a bit older than himself.

And Spike had said something about powers….

The three human men in the entourage obeyed, spreading themselves behind Angel. Gunn behind and to the left. Wesley behind and to the right. Xander turning to face the rear, his back to Angel.

Colourful eyes began to shift to gold, pair by pair, as if the room was filling with hungry jungle cats. “What do we do now, boss?” Gunn asked.

“Uh, *FIGHT*!” Xander expelled in his most girly horror movie voice possible, as a small cadre moved on him in a flash.

Before Angel could turn around and help the boy, some of the older ones descended upon him, seemingly from the ceiling of the great room. Wesley spun, first moving towards Angel, and then deciding if either one needed help, it was Xander.

Gunn’s face turned from jovial to rock hard in a moment and he swung the axe from his shoulder with a huff of air, beginning to cut a swath through the dead souls descending upon them in droves.

For all of his screaming and his faux-cowardice, Xander knew his place in the fight. Knew his way with weapons. Had learned from watching and from doing. He’d even swallowed his pride and taken fighting lessons from Spike while he was teaching Dawn. When the third Vampire grabbed onto the boy, he snarled, tossing the axe to Wesley and grabbing for the more maneuverable stake tucked in the back of his jeans.

No one was taking him away from his family.

No one.

With a growl of effort, Xander lunged forward and jabbed the wood into the heart of one of the fledglings, watching it poof into dust. With a kick, he pushed back another. Too many, he thought. Too many. One grabbed him around the neck and lunged forward, sharp teeth prickling at the soft skin of the boy’s neck.

No one, he thought again, struggling to gain purchase.

As the Vampire moved forward to bite, a white-hot light shot from Xander’s skin. Like contact sunlight, frying the undead Lothario mid-bite.

Wesley turned from his own battle at the flash of light and saw a dazed Xander chuckling nervously.

“Did you see that?”

“Yes,” Wesley answered simply, suddenly feeling a wash of confidence. Tara had done more than she expected. Packed more of a punch in her desperation to do this right.

“Was that the ward?” Gunn asked, chopping his way through a line of Vampires on his way to Angel’s side.

Wesley nodded, tossing Xander’s axe back to him and drawing a sword from a sheath on the wall. Vampires always had convenient decorations. “Tara’s will, and her wording of the spell, must have created more than just a shield around us.”

“It’s made us unbeatable?” Angel grunted as he kicked a younger Vampire back against a wall a good thirty feet south.

“No,” Wesley responded, backing up against Xander and beginning to fight the pair’s way over to where Angel was taking on the older Vampires two at a time. “It doesn’t seem to have increased our strength or speed or made us incapable of being defeated. What it does seem to have accomplished is to truly protect us, physically, from any harm traditionally inflicted by a Vampire.”

“They can’t bite us,” Gunn summarized, swinging in a circle and taking out three Vampires in the process.

“Can’t protect us from you, Gunn,” Xander heaved, ducking out of the way of the circling axe. “Watch the friendlies.”

“Sorry, man,’ Gunn replied, working his way towards the back wall and, presumably, the basement entrance. Angel already stood by the door, fighting off the minions with only a stake.

With the way they were defending that entrance, there *must* be something to protect, Angel thought as the three humans slowly made their way towards him. Maybe the Master himself.

“Think our boy’s down there?” Gunn called out, kicking the legs out from under a Vampire as another jumped on his back and got a blinding dose of sunlight when his fangs pricked his skin.

Angel nodded and drove a stake through another minion’s heart. “I know Spike said that this Master has got some sort of mojo, but *man* does he need to teach his boys to fight better.”

“Ha!” Xander panted, kicking away another minion and dancing with a startling lack of grace away from the third. “Don’t jinx it, broody.”

“Hate it when you call me that,” Angel responded, knocking another Vamp to the floor and stomping on his neck. “I’m not broody.”

“Uh, boss?” Gunn snarked, a smile coming back to his handsome face. “You are a little glum at times.”

Even Wesley chuckled. This wasn’t going to be the nightmare it had first looked to be.

~~@~~~@~~~

Tara knelt in the courtyard, completely involved in the spell. Eyes shut, mouth moving in a rhythmic chant. Willow had worked on the basic spell, but she’d toyed with it a bit. She hoped, hearing the snarling and roaring and crashing from inside, that the sunlight bit had worked in the manner she’d meant it.

Cordelia paced behind her, boots clacking against the concrete. Angry utterances spilled from her lips, none of which disturbed the Witch. Cordy wanted to be inside. In the thick of it. Helping her friends. Fighting beside her mate. If anyone understood that, it was the Sunnydale crew.

Note to self: when concentration isn’t so important, work on a way to disassemble that happiness clause, Tara thought. Sex wasn’t everything, no. But it sure made life a little less... tense.

Suddenly, a sharp intake of breath behind her caught Tara’s attention. She tried to remain focused on the spell. Tried to keep the chant. Tried not to…

But then something warm and wet splashed down onto her hand and the Witches’ eyes opened with a start. Blood dripped from her open palms to the cold concrete.

Not hers.

With a gasp, Tara turned and saw Cordelia as she dropped to the ground, a tall, dark haired Vampire standing behind her with a dagger coated in crimson.

“You will take me to the One now,” the dark haired one stated simply, letting Cordelia slide to a puddle at his feet. “No more delays. Your… friends… will have to make do on their own.”

Tara stared in horror at the beauty queen on the ground, a dark pool of deep red spreading slowly from her back. “I…I…”

“Now,” the dark Vampire commanded, grabbing Tara by the hair. “And you will have your mate disarm their fortress, or I will kill her too.”

~~@~~@~~

Spike stood, staring blankly at Joyce. He hadn’t prepared an answer for that. To be honest, he hadn’t really considered the thought that she’d tell him no and decide to go anyway.

Was that what she was saying?

“Grandmother?” Emma interrupted softly.

“What if I say no?” Joyce asked. “What if I decide … What if I want to see my baby again? What if I want to see the World? What if I want to see Dawn get married, even if I’d be too young to remember it? What if I want to wrap my arms around Buffy again? What if that’s more important to me than… than...? World Peace?” Her voice cracked and wavered as tears decided when to fall. With a sigh, the woman wrapped her arms around herself and stood, planting bare feet in sugar brown soil. “What if I want to go home?”

Spike stared at his own feet, watching the toes of his boots as if they held the answers. To be honest, it was much simpler than that. He knew if he looked at Joyce, he’d cry. Maybe he *was* tough. Maybe he was part of the most strength and valour the World had to offer…

…but the Summers girls always had his heart, and their hearts were in his care. And breaking even one of them – hell, even making one of them anything but happy – broke a part of himself.

“S’not about World Peace to me either, Joyce,” Spike responded solemnly, still staring at the toes of his boots. “Wish I could be all Prince Valiant and tell you it was about saving the World and allowing Emma to meet her destiny. Wish I could tell you that I was so noble as to be willing to sacrifice it all to end strife and all that superhero rubbish.” With enormous effort, Spike stood, the weight of all the Worlds crashing down on his shoulders at the thought of disappointing this one woman.

This one woman who’d given him solace.

He turned towards her. Joyce was standing facing away from him with her face towards the mists from whence Spike and Emma had come. Tentatively, he held out his hand, drew it back again, and then summoned the courage to place his palm on her shoulder and turn her lightly to face him.

Which made it even harder.

Golden tears streamed down Joyce’s face, leaving glimmering trails of heartbreak. Beautiful, *kind* eyes brimmed full, the corners spilling under the weight of sadness. Spike felt his own heart breaking watching her struggle. She shouldn’t have to. This woman should be the Queen of that house, her Princesses at her side. Not a distant audience to some cosmic play.

But it didn’t change the facts.

“S’not about that, Joyce,” Spike finally said, his own eyes brimming. “If it were up to me, I’d have you all there for all eternity. You. Buffy. Dawn. The little ones.” He sighed, closing his eyes for a moment before continuing. “S’not up to me though. I didn’t make the rules, nor did you, or Emma, or any of us. But they’re ours to play by, nonetheless. But it’s not about the future history of the World. Not to me. Not to you.”

“What is it about then?” Joyce asked, her voice raw and cracked.

“S’about a child,” Spike answered, simply, trying to be as honest as he could. “S’about *my* child. My children. Buffy’s. Were it just about the fate of the Universe, I’d be tempted to say bugger it all and come back to us. But the fact of the matter is, if you do come home… if we could have you with us again… it wouldn’t be you. Not completely. Those two demon gits would have control of you again. And they’d make you do things….”

Joyce shuddered, a distant, vague memory of what had happened in the past floating through her soul.

“And they’d have you kill Emma, Joyce. Or try. They’d have you kill Buffy. And I… I love you, you know that?” His voice was beginning to shake as his thoughts began to spiral into horror.

Joyce nodded, her hand over her mouth, considering the consequences of her refusal. “I know.”

“But I couldn’t let you do that. I *wouldn’t* let you. And I couldn’t… I’d never want to bear the weight of stopping you. And you - you wouldn’t, you *couldn’t* live with what you’d done. Not you. Not someone like you.”

Joyce nodded, a fresh stream of tears carving a path through the ethereal gold of her skin. “I don’t want to hurt her. I don’t want to hurt any of you. I just… I want to go home, Spike.”

With a sigh, he drew her to him, folding her into his arms. “There isn’t a day that goes by, Joyce, that you aren’t there. That you aren’t remembered. So much of you is in them. The way Buffy gets Emma to school. The way Dawn brushes her hair a hundred strokes a night before she goes to bed. Emma’s smile.” He swallowed, remembering the nights Joyce had fed him hot chocolate and given him a chance to be himself. To be the walking Hallmark card that no one else could have understood at that point. Another crushing blow to his heart.

“You’ll love them enough for both of us?” The woman asked, pulling away and trying to adopt her best Brave Little Toaster face.

Spike smiled. “That I will.”

Joyce closed her eyes, and with a deep intake of breath, she looked at her family. Emma stood quietly behind her father, the perfect mix of both of her parents. Spike stared at her, wet eyed and kind, even behind the blustery bravado that they all had known in the beginning. Pleading. Hoping. Hating that they had to do either.

“I won’t go,” Joyce finally said quietly. “I’ll stay here.”

With a flash, the sky lit to a brilliant purple and a winged horse split through the dusky clouds, gliding to the brown sugar soil and landing in a cloud of golden dust.

Graceful and lithe, the Sky Queen alighted, her tanned bare feet barely marking the ground on which she stood. “It is a wise and kindly choice, my child. One for which you will be rewarded.”

A small child, no more than six or seven, dropped down from the winged horse’s back after the Queen with the grace of a tiny ballerina. The girl stood next to the Pegasus, well behind the Queen, shy and frightened and lost.

“My Queen,” both Joyce and Emma said, dropping into a bow. Spike rolled his eyes and then dropped his head in reverence.

“No need for that,” the Queen answered, tipping up Spike’s chin with her fingers, before kissing both Emma and Joyce on the cheek and raising them to their feet. “Joyce, as you have made an excruciating decision, and deserve a rest, I ask if you would like to join me in the castle for a while. I have made accommodations, and you should find someone there waiting for you there to ease your pain.”

A small smile crossed the woman’s face. “Buffy?”

The Queen nodded and Spike stiffened. “You… you *can’t*… you…”

“Not that one, father, “Emma answered smiling.

“There’s more than one?” Spike asked, spinning to face his daughter. “And the World hasn’t imploded?”

With a chuckle, the Queen intervened. “Part of her was left behind when she died. The part that was a fully human girl. Emma can explain that further, I am sure. However, that part belongs solely to her Mother. I know she will be glad to have you back.”

Joyce smiled again, tears still wet on her face. “Is she all right?”

“She’s taken to playing with the creatures in the garden. I think she’s quite happy,” the Queen answered. “Although she will be happier now.”

The Queen turned back to Spike. “However, as hard as this has been on all of you, you still have a job to do.”

With a shudder, Spike considered what the new torture might be. “What now? Find my own mum and tell her she’ll never see anyone she loves again?”

“Your mother is living happily in Wales at the moment. She’s approximately sixteen Earth years old and likes Britney Spears and a boy named Ian.”

Wide-eyed, Spike shook his head. “What have you done to her?!”

“Told you she liked recycling,” Emma joked, wrapping her arms around her father’s bicep and resting her head on his shoulder. “Most will come back many times over.”

“Britney Spears?” Spike shuddered in disbelief.

The Queen smiled, giggling to herself. “Still, with Joyce having made her decision to remain here in order to protect our families, the task of choosing another soul to inhabit the body of your daughter now falls to you.”

“Thought that’s what you heavenly types did,” Spike snarked, feeling Joyce lace her fingers through his and hold on for their last few moments.

With an air of mock annoyance, the Queen shook her head. “See if I bestow such graces on you in the future. It is an honour to choose.” Again, the beautiful Queen smiled, sweeping her hand back towards her mount. “Although I did assume you’d say something like that, so I endeavoured to make your choice easier.”

Spike furrowed his brow. “A horse? A defective one at that?”

The Pegasus pawed the ground and snorted. “I’m not defective, Vampire. No more than you are a defective Human.”

That surprised Spike. Even the livestock had a voice in Heaven. “Apologies,” the Vampire responded, bowing his head.

“Accepted,” the Pegasus answered accordingly.

“Not the horse,” the Queen interrupted, gesturing for the small child to approach. The little girl left the safety of the creature’s wing and glided towards them, eyes huge with fear and confusion. A beautiful young girl.

And one whose familiarity went straight to Spike’s heart.

“You recognize her, Spike?” Joyce asked knowingly.

Spike nodded, staring at the lovely child standing with her hand wrapped in the Queen’s. “Yes, Pet. That I do.”

To be contd.

Title: Second Floor Travelers (Chapter Thirty-eight - Meant to Be)

Author: Nimue

Rating: PG-13

Pairing: Spike/Buffy (Most major characters included)

Feedback: Yes, please NimueofAvalon71 (at) yahoo.com

Summary: Tara has been taken by the Master, but manages to get a last-ditch warning off to Willow. Willow tries to help those fighting in the mansion, as well as get Buffy and her family to safety. Spike and Emma are still traveling and meet who they think may be their next of kin. Angel and Co. make a gruesome discovery.

Second Floor Travelers

Tara walked silently, the cold hand of the Master clutching the back of her neck. Breathing evenly, she tried to steady her heart. Tried to open her mind.

There was only one chance that any of this would end well – and even then, nothing would be right ever again. Flashes of Cordy’s crumpled body on the courtyard stone filled the quiet Witch’s head with crimson and fear.

She had to try.

A physical manifestation of thought would be far too obvious. Tara couldn’t exactly send a message to the crew in the mansion like that without the Master killing everyone he came in contact with, including her, from this point forward. But Willow... Willow she could contact just by thought.

If she could remain calm.

Closing her eyes for a moment as she walked, the Witch poured all of her concentration into one line of thought. One mantra. One woman who might understand. ‘Drop the ward. Get out. Send message to Xander. Trap. Trap. Get out. Drop the ward. Get out. Send message to Xander. Trap. Trap. Trap.”

Over and over again, Tara thought the words. Thought them into existence. Thought them along some invisible communication line in her mind. Thought them down streets and sidewalks and wished them there faster than her. Pushed them with the power of her will and forced them though the ward of the house and screamed them into the corridors and rooms.

‘Drop the ward. Get out. Send a message to Xander. Trap. Trap. Get out.’

~~@~~@~~@~~

Spike studied the girl for a long moment, head tilted to the side. The little girl looked at her bare feet with such untarnished innocence. Such sweet grace and quiet timidness.

Stars, this is what she was like? Gentle and kind and quiet.

And this was turned into….

The girl blushed crimson and looked down at her feet again as if some part of her could read his thoughts. Some part of her knew what she had come from. Knew what had happened.

But she didn’t. At least that is what Emma was whispering in Spike’s ear. She didn’t know. She was just a little girl and by the strength of her human soul, and the love of those she left behind, was granted a clean slate in the World of the Sky Queen.

She would never have to know that pain, Spike thought, watching the girl trace patterns in the brown sugar soil with a toe, her leg stretched like a ballerina’s from under her gold-white dress.

Spike crouched, rocking back on his heels and coming to eye level with the girl. “You all right, Pet?”

The girl looked up at him with enormous eyes, blinking. “I died.”

The Vampire nodded. “I know. So’d I.”

The little girl nodded. “Sky said my brothers and sisters aren’t here anymore. But if I go and come back, she’ll make sure I see ‘em.”

With a soft smile and a glance at the Queen, he nodded. “I’m sure she’d let you wait if you wanted.”

“Of course,” the Queen agreed, crouching down next to the child and putting a hand on her shoulder. “Although,” she began again in a voice full of temptation, “You’d have a brother and sister there too.”

The little girl spun her head towards the Sky Queen. “Like before?”

“Yes; although they are different people, they would still love you,” the Queen answered.

Spike turned his head and looked at Emma for a moment. “There’s one,” he commented.

“She’s *old*,” the tyke answered, looking at Emma who chuckled.

Spike echoed the laugh. “Just here, Pet. At home, she’s ‘bout your size. Things here aren’t always what they seem, apparently.”

The little girl looked confused and then nodded. “Will they play with me?”

Emma smiled. “Of course. Will and I would both play with you.”

Again the girl nodded, turning her attention back to Spike. “You’d be my dad?”

With a chuckle, Spike answered. “Looks that way, Love.”

“My mum?”

“Her name is Buffy,” the Sky Queen answered. “And she is the strongest, bravest mum in all the land. And she’ll love you more than anything.”

“That she will,” Spike agreed, a hint of concern in his thoughts. He knew Buffy would love this child, no matter what. Would protect her through any crisis or apocalypse. Would never let her down.

But how would she feel… how would she react when she found out…

This wasn’t the same person. This was the human version, as Will was his own human soul.

“She will love her,” Emma answered in his mind. “There will be no hesitation. This is not who you knew, just the soul of a girl who was taken too soon.”

A silent nod and Spike looked at the Sky Queen, who confirmed Emma’s thoughts. This was the soul of a young girl stolen from her life. One who deserved to have it made right again. One who deserved to hear the stars sing once again.

“Would you like to come home with us, Pet?” Spike asked, holding a hand out to the young girl.

She looked at him, all wide-eyed innocence, for a long moment. Her raven hair spilled over her shoulders and made her small face look waifish and lost. But those enormous eyes shone with hope, blinking back tears. With a nervous hesitation, the girl raised her hand and placed it inside of Spike’s. “You will love me?”

“’Course, Tot,” Spike answered, lifting her up to his hip. “You sure you want to come to us? Things get a bit strange from time to time back home.”

The little girl looked at Emma. “Will they really love me?”

Emma smiled. “More than the world.”

~~~@~~~@~~~

Willow sat on the couch downstairs, flipping through tome after tome, looking for clues on this Master. Buffy was upstairs, watching over Spike and Emma as they journeyed. Oz had taken Loki and Kali to Xander’s house to play. It was just her and the travelers on the second floor.

A little time to do research and…

The front door creaked. Then rattled. Then shook with earthquake force. Then burst open with a crack.

Tara’s voice flooded the room, a scream of wind in the otherwise silent house. “DROP THE WARD. GET OUT. SEND A MESSAGE TO XANDER. TRAP. TRAP. GET OUT.” The mantra repeated over and over in a deafening scream until a stunned Willow leapt to her feet in a rush and shut the door, her heart racing a mile a moment.

Was this real? Or just a different sort of trap? Real? Different sort of trap?

Trying to still herself, Willow used her power. She extended her senses, searching for her mate. Seeking her out in the darkness and fog and fear.

There she was. Walking solemnly down an empty street, a hooded darkness behind her, guiding her with a frozen hand on the back of her neck. As Willow probed, a set of beautiful, familiar eyes popped open and stared ahead, parted lips mouthing ‘Drop the ward. Get out. Send a message to Xander. Trap. Trap. Get out.’ before falling still and silent once again.

Real.

And Tara was in danger.

In a flurry of movement, Willow ran to the basement, lighting a candle and beginning a spell that would alter the ward to cover Xander’s house but fall away from this one. Hurrying through, she made the choice to seal Xander’s shut completely, hoping she’d make it back to open it again once the situation had been set right. In the meantime, *no one* was touching those kids. Not hers. Not anyone else’s.

As soon as the ward was re-set, Willow took a deep breath, calming her mind, and meditated. Xander had never been very good at the whole telepathy thing. Dozens of failed attempts proved that he had *way* too many trains of thought chugging through his mind at once to quiet it enough to receive a message. For a brief moment, the Witch thought about contacting Wesley, but the pair didn’t know each other well enough to be sure he’d get the right message from her panic addled mind.

But would Angel believe the perennially fearful Xander if he screamed to him to get out, to fall back and realize it was a trap? Or would the Vampire just assume it was the same scared boy of old, wanting to turn tail and run?

Time to use a little bit of Tara’s tactic, Willow decided, and combine it with a light show.

With a deep breath, the redhead began a chant. A series of non-contiguous spells wrapped into a growing ball of sunlight in her hand. Words and images and sparks and screams and pleas and hopefully, a little fried Vampire.

It wasn’t likely Angel would buy this anyway. But Xander would know. And it would freak Gunn into believing. And Wesley might just convince Angel it was time to run…

With a torrent of energy and a strong wind behind her, Willow walked to the basement window, opened the glass, and sent her creation into the night.

~~~@~~~@~~~

A knock on the door and Buffy started, staring at the wood with a mixture of annoyance and fear. They were not to be disturbed. Not until her love and her baby were back and awake. Buffy needed all of her concentration for that.

Like a feral cat, she stared at the door, eyes glowing with protective anger. “What?” She hissed to the offensive piece of wood.

“Buffy?” The familiar voice from the other side whispered just loud enough to hear. “Something’s gone wrong, Buffy. Tara sent a message. Something’s really wrong and we need to get out.”

At the sound of her long-time friend’s voice, part of her calmed. The rest digested the message and her body started a new wave of fear and anger.

“What happened?”

“I don’t know yet,” Willow answered to the closed door. “But the Master has Tara. Angel and the others are walking into a trap, and I think that Tara’s being forced to bring the big guy here. She told me to drop the ward and get us all out.”

Heartbeat pounding, Buffy looked down at her sleeping, defenseless family. They weren’t back yet. She didn’t know how long they’d be. No one could know. But until Spike could protect himself and their daughter, Buffy wasn’t going anywhere.

“Let them come,” the Slayer hissed, staring at the door.

“Buffy?”

“Spike’s not back yet. I’m not leaving them…”

“We could take…”

“They might not be able to return if they can’t find their way, Will,” Buffy replied before the Witch finished her sentence. A sharp intake of breath as the word brought back other thoughts. “Will. Where’s my Will?”

“Warded up in the other house with the rest. It’s just us here. They’re okay, Buffy,” Willow answered, finally finding some good news. “But you know that this Master is…”

“Get out, Willow,” Buffy interrupted. “Find a way to get Xander and the rest out of the mansion. Find Giles and put that big brain to use, and find a way to stop this big jerk. But I’m not leaving.”

“Buffy…” A last pleaded sigh.

“Go. “

Willow closed her eyes, touching the closed door. “He’s got Tara, Buffy.”

The Slayer looked down at her own mate and remembered all the times one or the other of them were missing or lost or in some kind of peril. Seemed like every Tuesday. And every time, it was just as terrifying.

Because one of these times would be the last.

“I’ll get her away. Just… find a way to help us.”

Another deep breath from the Witch. “Be careful, Buffy.”

A soft smile crossed the Slayer’s lips. “I will.”

~~@~~@~~

The four men halted at the top of the cellar stairs as a howling started low and deep in the entryway. Even the Vampires turned to take a look at the source of the screaming. A wolf? Too loud for just one. A pack? Werewolves? If so, and they weren’t of the Oz variety, all of them were in a boatload of trouble.

The sound grew, rattling the house, making pictures fall from walls and silver clatter to the stone as it came ever closer. Haunting screams, like banshees on the warpath, wound their way like ivy through the entry hall and into the great room, catching everyone’s attention and stopping what seemed like unending fisticuffs.

Wesley cocked his head as a small, round, glowing ball screamed around the corner, howling and mewling and stopping dead, floating at about his eye level. It stilled, apart from a sort of ethereal bounce, and fell quiet, ending the screeching noise.

The Vampires circled the ball, as Xander recognized it. Willow. It had her… sense of humour. Something about it was all her. And he knew her work pretty well by now. “Back up,” the boy whispered, “Away from the stairs.”

Gunn nodded, moving back into the great room and flattening himself against the wall. The rest followed suit as the Vampires inspected the floating white ball.

“What does it do?” Gunn asked.

“I don’t have a clue,” Xander answered as Wes slid up next to him. “But it’s Willow’s, and it’s big, so get ready to …”

The ball burst open in a flash of dazzling daylight and a familiar voice screamed out parts of Tara’s message, mixed with Willow’s own. “GET OUT. IT’S A TRAP. MASTER ON WAY TO BUFFY’S. HE’S GOT TARA. GET OUT!”

The light beamed from the once solid ball and it dawned on Angel that Willow and Tara had somehow figured a way to generate all of their spells against Vampires with an extra instruction to detect and avoid souls. The sunlight beamed, frying every Vampire in the room, but Angel stood only ten feet away and watched the show as if it were part of Pink Floyd live.

Hunh.

Must have had a lot of practice with Spike and his shared soul in the mix.

The Vampire was startled back to attention as Wesley grabbed his arm on the way past, running for the entryway and the courtyard. Xander chugged along in front, Gunn just behind. The Master had one of their own. And that was *not* happening on Xander’s watch.

They ran through the house at break-neck speed, skidding into the loose stone of the courtyard to swing by and collect…

‘If the Master had Tara, and Tara was with Cordelia…’ Xander suddenly thought.

A few more careful steps into the courtyard and the full impact of that thought hit him as he came into the moonlight.

Xander stopped dead, his hand slapped over his mouth, eyes wide with fear and anger and horror. Gunn looked at him for a moment before cautiously stepping up next to him.

“Oh God.”

Xander dropped his hand from his mouth and ran towards the girl, as Gunn spun to try and locate Angel and somehow, someway, prepare him for this. The Vampire was just running out of the house, Wes at his side, and coming straight at the courtyard.

“Xan, she…?” Gunn asked, his back to the sight.

Xander could feel the tears well as he knelt in the blood next to her body. With a shaky hand, he tentatively dropped his fingers to her neck and turned it, looking for bite marks.

Nothing.

All this blood. And he didn’t even take her.

“Dammit, Xander. Is she…?”

Pressing down on her neck, Xander closed his eyes and prayed. Prayed for that thump, thump, thump that kept them all alive. That he listened to every night as he laid his head on Takina’s chest. As he listened to River in peaceful sleep.

Nothing.

Xander pressed his fingers harder. He heard Gunn intercepting Angel and Wes, trying to prepare them for what was behind potted plant number three.

Nothing.

Pressed a little harder.

Thump.

Too long a time.

Another thump.

“Gunn! Help me! She’s alive, but she’s… Oh God.”

“She?” Angel asked, looking around Gunn. “She?” A sudden realization smacked into him as he watched both Gunn’s and Wesley’s faces become solemn.

With a shove, Angel pushed Gunn out of the way, searching beyond him until he saw Xander crouched in a pool of blood.

“Xander?”

With a start, Xander turned and stared wild-eyed at the Vampire. “We have to help her….”

Angel’s eyes dropped to the ground and saw her, spread out in a pool of crimson, her dark hair matted and her pretty eyes closed.

“Cordelia…”

To be contd.