Title: Holiday Bondage - Part One (Chapter Nine of Meant to Be)

Author: Nimue

Rating: PG -13

Pairing Buffy/Spike. Most major characters included.

Feedback: Yes, please

For instant notification of fic releases, straight to your mailbox, please visit Always_Everyday@yahoogroups.com

Disclaimer: All characters belong to Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, UPN, Fox... Just Borrowing. (With, of course, the exception of Emma and William, who belong to Buffy and Spike)

The rest of the story can be found at:

and present chapters are being posted on my live journal at:

Summary: Turkey Day at the Windsor house. Part one of a two or three part chapter which *might* include some rated material. We shall see… Giles tells Willow of Althea’s phone call and they develop a plan to intercept the prophesy.

Holiday Bondage - Part One

Xander and Takina arrived at the front walk of the familiar abode on Revello at exactly the same time as Willow and her family. They stopped for hugs and kisses, showering each other in the affection of lifelong friendship. It was as if it had been years since they’d last met, rather than just a few days. This is how a holiday *should* be.

Laughter bubbled from inside the house. The now familiar, happy sound of Buffy. A noise that they had not heard nearly enough of as they grew up, but were now blessed with at nearly every meeting. Internally, in some little part of his mind, Xander still cringed that he could never make her sound like that. That it was a Vampire who had finally set her free by binding himself to her. But that sound… That clear, bell-like laughter followed by the shrill, high-pitched giggles of her children, was worth any price he had to pay, real or imaginary.

“Wonder what’s going on in there?” Oz questioned, an infectious grin on his face.

“With Buffy, it’s hard to tell. I mean, she could be reveling in the joy of demon slaughter, or she could just be playing with the kids,” Willow pointed out as they reached the doorstep.

“Well, guess we’re with the demony goodness or the family romp,” Xander commented. “Not sure which is of the worst.” He reached for the knob, a grin spreading across his face. Takina batted him with one hand as she held River to her hip with the other. Xander cringed dramatically, still smiling as he turned the door knob, stepping in with the whole crew in tow.

The scene in the dining room was a tableau that had them all guffawing within seconds. Buffy was barely holding herself up against the kitchen door frame, tears streaming down her face as she watched the scene unfold.

Spike sat, smirking all the while, as Emma and Will tied him to a dining room chair. Running circles around him like some partially living maypole, giggling insanely as they secured little knots and made sure the ropes were snug and tight all over their father.

Xander broke first, wiping tears from his face and warding off the evil-Vampire-glare-of-slow-and-painful-exsanguinations. “Bu…Buffy, did you *tell* them to do that?” He choked out.

She shook her head in response, hand over her stomach, still laughing so hard that she could not speak as Emma secured a knot around Spike’s arm.

“Okay,” Takina began, smiling just because of the reaction of the others. “Not sure I’m quite getting the joke. Not that Spike tied to furniture isn’t funny…”

“’Nuf out of you,” Spike snapped half-heartedly, barely concealing his own grin. “Don’t see you sacrificing your bloody dignity to be the entertainment.”

“It… It is kinda funny,” Tara agreed. Spike feigned shock and horror at the kind witch’s allegiance to the dark side. She blushed, looking away but still grinning uncontrollably.

“Easy fang-boy. Just bringing back a memory or two,” Xander chided, eliciting a growl from Spike and a quick tug at the restraints. “Good times,” the man continued. “Good times.”

“And back to the inside joke?” Takina reminded as Buffy made her way over to the group, still giggling hysterically.

Will separated himself from the festivities just long enough to run up to Takina and look her square in the eye. Well, as square as he could from three feet below. His little arms reached up towards her and River. “Mine,” he said confidently, making both Buffy and Takina laugh harder and Xander growl, much in the manner of the bound Vampire. Spike raised an eyebrow in satisfaction while Takina loosed River, handing her over to Will who promptly took her little hand and led her back to the real festivities.

“You see,” Buffy chuckled, “It’s kind of a family tradition.”

“Nothin’ says Turkey Day like Spike tied to a chair,” Willow interjected, causing another growl from Spike.

“Back in the good old days,” Xander began, roughly composing himself, “when Spike wasn’t of the neutered…”

“Hey!” Spike contradicted, serious this time. “I’ll have you know that Buffy and I…”

“Spike,” Buffy warned, all humour slipping from her voice.

Spike sighed. Only right to let her handle the news her way, even if it meant verbal castration by the whelp. Internally, he thought of ways to get the git back once the announcement had been made.

“Anyway,” Xander continued, baiting Spike further by winking his victory at Buffy’s support, “back in those blessed, blessed good old days, Spike spent a lot of time tied to things.”

“And chained,” Willow added gleefully. “Don’t forget the chainage.”

“Oh, of course not,” Xander agreed, nodding sagely. “Captain Peroxide over here spent a couple of Thanksgivings tied to chairs.”

Takina quirked an eyebrow. “Um, any particular reason? Or was it religious. Like a Christmas tree?”

Buffy giggled, a naughty little thought of Spike being decorated with various edible ornaments making her woozy all over again.

“Well, we were sort of against the idea of becoming his main course,” Xander answered, sarcasm biting through his amusement.

“Wouldn’t have bitten you anyway, Whelp,” Spike commented as the kids tied his legs. “Just because I’m a creature of the night doesn’t mean I’ve got no taste.”

Xander smirked, turning back to Takina and Buffy. “Got any gags handy?”

“As a matter of fact…”Buffy began, thinking more of her naughty little fantasy than gagging him for public purposes.

“Don’t even think ‘bout it, Goldilocks,” Spike snarled at his beloved, getting a kittenish grin in response.

River began to climb up Spike’s legs as if on her father’s cue, sticking her pacifier in his mouth and causing the already amused extended family to erupt into gales of laughter yet again. Even Spike had to chuckle from behind the baby’s prized possession. Well, that is if one didn’t include Will as River’s most prized possession.

“What’s going on?” An amused, female voice asked from the doorway. Before anyone could hazard a glance back, the voice continued. “Oh, must be Thanksgiving,” and strolled nonchalantly past the group and into the kitchen. Very little fazed Anya anymore.

A nervous smile flitted across Giles’ face, but it barely hid his distraction. “Shall I find a novelty mug?”

Buffy laughed again, walking over to her lover and starting to peel wily children from his limbs and extricating River’s pacifier from his lips, replacing it quickly with her own. “You’re being a good sport,” she whispered against his soft skin.

“Have to make it up to me later, Pet.” He smiled against her lips, making her grin wider.

“Keep the ropes handy then,” she commented with a saucy smile and sauntered away, leaving Spike dangerously close to being embarrassingly happy about his humiliation. Quickly, he changed his thought processes, banishing thoughts of Buffy tied right and proper to the bed post and replacing the grin with a smirk.

“Can’t a bloke get untied round here?”

The crowd looked at each other for a moment, then to Spike, and began to file out of the room, shrugging and giggling.

“Hey!”

Tara couldn’t keep it up and walked back to the captive Vampire as the rest dispersed around the house. She began to untie him with delicate ease, trying not to giggle too loudly. But Spike’s own laughter made it hard for her to avoid.

~~~~~

Slowly, he turned the knob and walked outside onto the front porch. Willow was sitting on the top step, watching the kids play in the grass on the front lawn. She was alone, at least for the moment, and the Watcher thought it his best opportunity to approach her without causing alarm in the others. Giles sighed, thinking it wasn’t fair to upset her Thanksgiving as his had been. But there was no time left to wait.

“Oh, hey Giles,” Willow chirped as her mentor sat down on the step next to her, eyes trained on the children, but mind obviously elsewhere.

“Willow,” the Watcher answered, nodding at the slowly setting sun. Not looking at her. He couldn’t look at her. He felt like all he ever brought to them was bad news.

“What’s with the pouty face?” She asked, furrowing her brow. “You’re supposed to be all up with the celebrate-y goodness! Thanksgiving is like… it’s like the gateway to lots of present-y holidays. And that’s always of the good. Besides, Spike cooked most of dinner, not Buffy, so we should be safe and…”

“Willow,” Giles repeated, this time turning his head to face her. Her red hair blew around her face in the slight autumn breeze and she looked like a child again. Like she had when they had met.

She smiled sheepishly. “Sorry. I guess I get a little excited. The kids make it *so* cool again.”

Despite his concerns, Giles had to smile at that. Having children did have a way of restoring the joy to the holiday season. “It is rather nice with them around,” he commented quietly. “But, unfortunately, we have other concerns to contend with.”

Again, Willow furrowed her brow, her smile fading. “Not to be all concerned about the concerns, but can’t it wait until tomorrow? I kinda like my apocalypses on a full stomach.”

“I’m afraid it can’t,” Giles answered ruefully.

Willow sighed heavily, her attention on the playing kids. “How come I knew you would say that?” She paused a moment, taking another long breath. “So, what’s the big badness?”

The Watcher wrung his hands, raising his face to the waning sunlight. “Spike told me about Buffy’s… condition.”

“I know! Isn’t it great? I mean, who would’ve thought that….”

“Willow,” Giles interrupted, reclaiming her attention. The beaming smile slid from the Witch’s face and her heart picked up its pace.

“Giles, what is it? What’s wrong?” Her voice became nervous. Shaky.

The Watcher closed his eyes and swallowed, opening them slowly. “I don’t know that anything is wrong quite yet,” he began, watching the kids rather than looking at Willow’s nervous face.

“Then what?” She asked, her voice picking up speed to match her heart. “I mean, you have to have… you have to have come to me all scaredy faced for a reason.”

“I did,” Giles responded, searching for the words. There was a pregnant pause as he thought of the least alarmist thing to say. “I received a call from Althea just before I came here today.”

“Is she all right? The Coven?” Willow asked nervously.

“Fine, fine,” Giles reassured. “But she told me that they had come across a prophesy. One which pertains to the destruction of the One at the hands of their own child.”

Willow’s eyes opened wide, her mind reeling. “Emma? Will?” The sounds were more like choked gasps than words.

Giles lay a comforting hand on her shoulder. “I asked the same thing,” he responded, taking off his glasses and rubbing the bridge of his nose. “But Althea responded, quite clearly, that it was the one yet to be.”

A small gasp escaped the redhead’s lips. “How… How did they know?”

“Their seer. Not to mention that the child of a Vampire and the Slayer, a child of the One, must affect the energies of the World. Something the Coven would likely pick up on. They want to transmit the prophesy to you tonight, at midnight, so that we can take a look at it ourselves and determine the best course of action. Or… or if it even applies to them,” Giles said, his voice laced with hope.

Willow tried to smile, sharing that hope. “They could be wrong, you know. And besides… Buffy, she’s not good with the whole prophesy thing. Hates ‘em. Does her best to screw them up.”

Giles chuckled, squeezing the girl’s shoulder. “Will you do it?”

“Sure,” she answered, her voice still a little thready. “ I mean, maybe they’re wrong, right? Like, the prophesy is about the child of the Gunn and not the One, or something.”

“They could be,” Giles answered unconvincingly. “Willow, I think it best that we keep this between us until we know more about the situation. Frightening Buffy, after all she went through carrying William to term…”

Willow mimed zipping her lips and tossing away the key. “Believe me, the *last* thing I want to do is tell Buffy.” There was a pause as she composed her thoughts. “They want me someplace in particular?”

“Here,” Giles commented. “We’ll send the rest home and Buffy out to patrol with Spike. We should be able to receive the information quite quickly.”

Willow nodded her understanding. Giles stood, straightening and squinting out at the last rays of the sun.

“Everything’s going to be okay, right? I mean with Buffy’s baby? Because when you feel that, Giles… feel that inside of you… nothing will stop you from protecting your baby. From falling madly in love.” The concern in Willow’s voice was palpable. The emotion pouring out like tears.

Giles nodded. “I don’t know, Willow. I’d love to say that we can expect a trouble free addition to what has become a lovely family.” He paused, rubbing the bridge of his nose again and then sliding his glasses back into position. “But I can’t.”

Tears welled behind the redhead’s eyes. “Could the Prophesy be wrong?”

The older man laid a hand on her shoulder once again, smiling compassionately. “If anyone knows how to confound a prophesy, it’s Buffy.” A fragile smile broke on Willow’s face. “Try not to worry too much. We should know more tonight.”

“Tonight,” Willow repeated, returning her eyes to the children playing under the setting sun.

To be contd.

Chapter 10: Holiday Bondage - Part Two

“Buffy,” Anya began leaning back in her chair, hands folded over her flat stomach. “That was actually…good.”

“Anya!” Giles growled quickly, flashing a fragile smile at Buffy.

Spike chuckled under his breath, getting a swift kick to the shins from his beloved. “Learned a thing or two of late, my girl,” he commented, smiling at Anya. Buffy tried to be insulted, but could only barely cover her own smile.

“Seriously, Buff, that was excellent,” Xander commented, unbuttoning his pants and leaning into the arm draped over the back of his chair. Takina rubbed the back of his neck as he nearly purred in sated bliss.

“Thanks,” the hostess answered, somewhat sarcastically. “I think.”

“More wine anyone?” Giles asked, lifting the carafe from its spot near his place setting.

“Think it’s time we moved on to scotch,” Cyrus replied, a grin breaking on his face.

“Second that,” Spike chimed in. “Anyone else?”

Everyone put in their drink orders to Spike as Buffy cleared the plates from the table and checked in on the kids who were all playing quietly in what was normally the dining room. Usually quiet denoted something dastardly about to happen, but, in this case, they were all so stuffed that they could do nothing but make up imaginary worlds and crawl around the floor to act them out.

It wasn’t long before they were all gathered back around the table, laughing and talking over a few drinks. Catching up on the more mundane parts of life, which, to this particular group, were the out of the ordinary bits. After spending a lifetime chasing Vampires and Demons and various and sundry other beasties, preschool and PTA and clothing sales, and how Man U was faring this year sounded like things that might be found in one of Giles’ dusty old tomes.

As conversation waned, Buffy looked at Spike, her eyes a bit dewy. He could feel her in his head. Ready. It was her time to give them all something happy. Something to look forward to.

Spike smiled at her, standing and tapping his dessert fork against his glass. “Quiet down, you lot of braggarts,” he joked, smirking at the group. “Seems that we have an announcement or two to make.”

Dawn looked at Brian, eyes huge. She’d been careful to hide her left hand under the table. She’d thought of taking the ring off so she didn’t slip up, but it felt so good there. So right. How could he know? He couldn’t know!

Buffy stood up next to him as the rest quieted down. Spike snaked an arm behind her, feeling the silk of her dress under his palm, inflaming the desire that she’d raised when she released him from his bonds. He fought against it with the same passion he intended to use on her later.

“Um,” Buffy began, a rosy colour flooding her cheeks. “I mean, around here, it really isn’t that big an announcement.”

“Hey, now!” Spike corrected, sounding genuinely hurt.

“No, no,” she went on. “I mean, it’s *huge* to us, but may not be all shock-inducing to you.”

“Out with it, Buff,” Xander said, smiling up at her from his chair. Buffy looked at Willow and she smiled as well, nodding. Spike gave her a squeeze around the waist and prompted her back to life.

“Well,” she began again, still rosy and beautiful and even a bit shy. “Um. Well, Spike and I are..”

“Are…,” Dawn repeated, getting annoyed with her sister’s delay. Patience had never been a virtue.

Spike decided it was time to bail her out. “Seems we’re going to have another tot.”

Eyes grew wide a moment, as mutters of “how?” and “ohmygod” and almost involuntary stares shot at her flat, toned stomach.

Finally, it was Dawn again that asked. “When?”

“About… seven months?” Buffy asked, looking over at Spike.

“Six months, twenty four days, by my count,” he answered quite seriously. Buffy’s heart warmed at his excitement and she pushed herself up on her toes to kiss him softly.

“A third one?” Cyrus asked jovially, then let his head flop to the table.

“Yay!” Willow squeaked, running round the table and throwing her arms around the both of them. “Yay, yay, yay!” She knew that she was overcompensating for knowing before any of them, but she expected, in her own mind, that she was doing it even more so because of the terror this Prophesy brought to her mind.

“I agree with her,” Tara said, her face alight with joy , and nodding at her mate. “With the YAY!”

“I think we all do,” Takina chimed in. “That’s wonderful, Buffy!”

“I get another niece!” Dawn sing-songed as she made her way round the table to her sis.

“How do you know it’ll be a girl?” Buffy asked, wrapping her arms around her sister.

Spike chuckled. “Be my luck. Nother Summers girl to tie me in knots.”

Both Buffy and Dawn smirked at him. Emma would have joined in had she not been stretched out on the floor of the dining room playing with the others.

After congratulations had been made, and hugs and kisses given, and all were safely back in their seats, Dawn nervously stared over at Brian. “Should we?” She mouthed.

He nodded in response. “They’ll be upset if you wait until Christmas,” he answered, leaning over and kissing her cheek.

“You first,” she prodded, sticking a fork in his side. Surprise poured over the boy. This was *her* family and she was throwing him to the wolves?

Then again, if he was going to marry her, it’d be his family too. Like it had become for Takina. And no one had eaten her for lunch yet. Besides, he could do the same at Brian’s parent’s, where they were headed for coffee afterwards, and toss the onus onto her.

Slowly, with shaking legs, the handsome boy stood, hitting his fork on the crystal too softly to hear. Dawn shook her head and whacked it one from her seat, drawing the attention of the crowd back to the tall, lean, man that was newest to the tribe.

“I…we…I…” Brian stuttered, looking over the attentive faces, particularly the protective, blonde *Vampire* with his arm slung casually over the sister of his beloved. Terror grabbed his heart in unkind waves.

A nudge from Dawn under the table prodded him to go on. If he was going to marry this girl, to whom the supernatural was only natural, he was going to have to get used to bearing up under the pressure of knowing that a few of them could eat him for lunch.

A deep breath and he mustered up just enough courage to go on. “We… Dawn and I… have an announcement to make as well.”

“Oh, cool! What is it?” Willow chimed cheerfully, trying to help the boy along.

“Indeed,” Giles contributed, affecting an interested gaze. “Curiosity is getting the better of me.”

Spike just glared, one eyebrow twitching.

“Um…Dawn and I… you see, I’m very much in love with her. I have been since the moment I saw her. I mean, she’s… everything. Sweet and kind and strong and stubborn,” Brian began again.

“And whiney,” Xander joked, ducking the olive that was tossed his way by the girl in question.

Brian chuckled. “Sometimes that.” Dawn kicked him under the table, a smile on her face. “But I love her, even with her faults and her perfections. And I’m pretty sure she loves me even with mine.”

Dawn smiled up at him adoringly, her eyes starting to tear. “I do,” she whispered, making him grin back at her with a love that almost rivaled Spike’s love for her sister.

“To the chase,” Buffy prodded sweetly, leaning forward in her chair with interest, Spike’s hand now splayed along her back.

“To the chase,” Brian repeated. “Well, this morning, I…”

“He asked me to marry him!” Dawn squealed, jumping up next to him and jutting her hand across the table at Buffy, jumping up and down in place.

An audible gasp went through the group. They knew that she had been living with him for over a year now, but she was the baby of the original generation. None of them had seen it, even fathomed it coming. Even now that she was in her twenties.

“Married?” Buffy said uneasily.

“You know, the thing with the white dress and the girls in the other colour dresses with the flowers and the food and rings…” Dawn snarked, nothing able to spoil her high.

“Wow,” Buffy repeated. “Married.”

It took a moment for it to sink in, but Tara did the honours and made it easier for the poor, sweating boy at the table. “Brian, Dawn, I think … I think it’s great!. You… You really seem to make each other happy. So, I’m happy for you.” She rose from her seat and made her elegant way to the excited girl, wrapping her arms around her tightly.

Willow followed suit. “It’s wonderful, Dawnie! Yay you! What with the married and the… wow.”

Xander stood, making his way to Brian, shaking the boy’s hand. “Congrats. You know, she’s like my little sister and if you do anything… I mean, anything…”

“Xan,” Takina warned, hugging Brian. “They’re a little hard to break into at first, but you’ll be fine,” she whispered as she held him, causing him to relax.

They all flooded round the couple, congratulating and hugging. Finally, Buffy made it to her sister.

“You know you’d better hold off until I have this baby,” Buffy commented, barely holding back her smile. “I don’t want to look like the Great Pumpkin in my dress.”

Dawn smiled, tears running down her face. “What makes you think you’ll be a bridesmaid?” Dawn snarked, making Buffy laugh through the tears. “June okay? Give you a couple months to de-puff.”

Buffy rubbed her belly thoughtfully. “Think I can do it. I’m getting older, but still the Slayer with the healing.”

They hugged, arms tight around each other, tears cascading down their faces in happy rivers. Another wife. Another mother. It was amazing to them at this point that either of them had made it this far.

It took a moment before Dawn pulled away, heart beginning to sink into her belly. “Where… Where’s Spike?”

Buffy turned around, scanning the group around Brian and the few standing in the entry hall. She closed her eyes. Should have known he would *not* take this well. “I know where he is,” she whispered, turning towards the kitchen.

A hand on her shoulder stopped her. “Buffy, I need to do this,” Dawn whispered, turning her sister back around.

“Dawnie, it’s likely that he… He’s not good with the losing a girl kinda thing,” she commented in return. “Probably a little fangy grr…”

“I can handle him,” Dawn whispered, heading perilously for the kitchen. “I hope,” she whispered to herself.

~~~~~

Spike prowled the dimly lit back porch like a jungle cat, muscles tight and ready to fire. A red ember at the tip of his cigarette glowed and lessened with each long draw. He didn’t smoke much anymore. But he hid a pack in the corner flower pot for emergencies and times of great stress.

This was one of them.

He was so preoccupied in his thoughts that he didn’t hear the door open. Didn’t hear her expensive heels click onto the wooden deck behind him. Didn’t notice her at all until he heard her voice.

“Spike?”

He spun, completely taken aback, part of him melting at the sight of the girl, arms wrapped around herself in the cold, looking afraid and alone. The other part of him *seething* with anger that she’d let another man take her away. That she would do it without telling him first. That she… that he wasn’t so important anymore.

“What?” He snapped defensively. “Shouldn’t you be in there soaking up the congratulatory bit?”

“Brian’s got it under control,” Dawn answered, moving a step closer.

Spike backed up imperceptibly, anger and hurt raging inside of him. How could he have let himself… how could he mean so little now to the girl he practically *raised*.

“Spike,” Dawn breathed, feeling a tinge of guilt. “I know we should have told you before, but there wasn’t any *time*.”

“Bloody well *right*, you should have,” Spike growled. “Isn’t it still polite to ask for a girl’s hand in marriage?”

“You didn’t,” Dawn countered, getting a little ticked herself. “Then again, what you and Buffy do isn’t ever questioned is it? I mean, you’re *The One* and all.”

Spike sighed, slouching back against the railing and lighting up a smoke. “Didn’t have a father worth asking,” he countered. “Would’ve asked your mum.”

“I know,” Dawn said, softening. “And I’m sorry,” she continued, moving next to him and gesturing for his smoke.

Spike raised an eyebrow at her and she took it from him anyway. “Only when I’m stressed,” she commented, taking a long drag and returning it to him. “Don’t tell Buffy.”

“You can get cancer you know,” Spike lectured. “And yellow teeth.”

“So could you… now,” she countered, smiling a bit. He closed his eyes and hung his head, shaking it.

“Still don’t get why you didn’t tell me, Lil’ Bit. Mean, you and I… we were always…”

“You were like my dad,” Dawn muttered, shivering. “Well, better. And younger. And hotter.”

“Don’t let your sis hear you say that. Hormones and all. Likely to slay you,” Spike snarked, taking off his dinner jacket and draping it over the girl’s shoulders.

“Jealous, much?” Dawn joked. “Both of you?”

“Works for us, Niblet,” Spike answered. “Keeps us together sometimes.”

“I know,” Dawn answered, pulling the jacket tighter around her shoulders and sighing. “I am sorry I didn’t say anything to you first.”

Spike nodded, taking a long pull from his cigarette. “’Spose I’ll get over it eventually.”

“Would this help?” Dawn asked, turning to face him. A quizzical look passed over his features as she stared at him doe eyed and looking like the little girl that used to live in the room down the hall. “Spike, you’re right. I don’t have a father worth telling. So I… I… I would be honoured if you would walk me down the aisle.”

The Vampire’s eyes opened in utter shock. Figured it’d be Giles, like it had been with Buffy. But the sincere look on her face, the tears beginning to fall in streams down her cheeks told him it was him. It’d always been him. A swell of pride spread through him like white fire.

“I’d be honoured,” he finally answered, nodding his head politely at the girl.

Dawn crawled into his arms as she had done when she was a scared child, burying herself in his chest and breathing in the smells that were Spike. The safety and love and even the strength and the violence. She loved him because of it all and despite it.

He pulled her tighter against him, cradling her against his shoulder and sighing, kissing her forehead. “You know I’m still a bit put out.”

Dawn smiled against his chest. “I know. “

“Should have told me.”

“I know.”

“Good.”

There was a long pause, before she spoke again. “Be happy for me, Spike. Please be happy for me. Brian makes me so … I love him.”

“I am, Niblet,” Spike whispered, kissing her forehead once again. “Just’ll take a little getting used to.”

It was early when Xander and Takina left, as well as Dawn and Brian. With two families to visit, they could only stay for part of the evening in any one place.

It was okay. They were all worn out from the excitement anyway.

Willow, Tara and Oz stayed for a while, with Giles and Anya and Cyrus. Willow and Giles eyed each other all night, wondering how they could empty the house before midnight.

Suddenly, an opportunity presented itself when Giles’s cell phone rang. He hated the contraption, but as head of the Watcher’s Council, U.S. branch, he had to be contactable at all times.

The group was quiet as Giles uttered “yes’s” and “no’s” into the phone, nodding and sighing and shaking his head.

Finally, he ended with “Yes. I’ll have them look into it.”

At that, both Buffy and Spike perked up. A little violence might be just what they needed to wind down.

Giles snapped the phone closed, looking at the couple. “Seems there’s a bit of a demon problem in a warehouse by the pier. One of our informants advised us that it hasn’t made a move on any humans yet, but it’s sacrificing animals nightly and seems to be getting progressively more powerful. I think it’s a good idea if you check into it.”

“Right,” Spike said, nodding and heading towards the door, Buffy on his heels.

“It’s a slime demon,” Giles interjected, as they hit the landing, causing them both to look at their clothes, each other and run up the stairs to change and grab weapons.

It wasn’t long before The One was out of the house, stopping to kiss both kids good night. Giles sent Anya home with Randy, Cyrus escorting them. Tara and Oz knew something else was going on, but knew better than to ask. They offered to take Emma and Will back to their flat and bring them back in the morning.

Willow and Giles both sighed with relief at the inherent understanding, and the rest were out of the house.

“So, what now?” Willow asked, biting her nails and staring at her mentor.

“Basement,” Giles answered, locking the doors and turning out the lights. “And we wait.”

To be contd.

Title: Holiday Bondage - Part Three (Chapter Eleven of Meant to Be)

Holiday Bondage - Part Three

“Shouldn’t you have a pen or something?” Willow asked, settling herself within the ring of candles that she’d created in the now furnished basement of the Windsor house. Could never seem to have enough room for guests, or ritual magic, she mused.

“Right, right,” Giles muttered, pulling open a drawer under the phone extension, and procuring a pad that read ‘A Happy Home is One Full of Love.’ He groaned at the sentiment, hoping that Buffy had bought it on a whim, but knowing that Spike was most likely the culprit.

“While you’re at it, maybe a camera or video or something,” Willow said, thoughtfully.

Giles furrowed his brow. “You want me to document a magical ritual for you? On film?”

Willow smiled. “No, doofus. I’m just sayin’ that we don’t know how this is going to come across, right? I mean, what if it’s like a zillion pages of Swahili? You think you’re up to writing it all down?”

“Hmm,” Giles said, heading over to the entertainment center. “You’ve got a rather good point.”

“Always thinkin’,” she joked, making herself comfortable, her legs crossed in front of her. The Watcher grabbed a new, state of the art, video camera off the console and fiddled with it until the red button was alight.

“The Council needs to look into their salaries,” he mused, looking over the high tech gadget with appreciation.

“Yeah, because it’s possible to overpay people for continuously saving the World while going through Hell,” Willow countered.

Suddenly, the lights around her began to flicker and she jumped a bit, feeling a cold chill sweep up her back. “Uh, Giles. Make with the ready because I think it’s coming.”

Before he even had a chance to answer, her eyes turned a glowing white, her hair flying back from her face as a wind came from nowhere, sealed only in the magical circle. He watched as her face transformed; a mixture of pleasure and pain, and her hands clenched tight at her sides.

“The connection is made,” an otherworldly voice said from Willow’s ruby lips. A deeper, more powerful voice than the girl he’d just been bantering with. “The Prophesy will be transmitted.”

The Watcher mustered up the courage to speak. “How, may I ask?”

Willow’s eyes flickered and then an explosion of white light rocked her, emanating from her pupils. Her mouth opened in a wide smile and light poured from her every feature, slamming audibly into the blank, white wall across from her.

“I see,” Giles muttered, clicking on the video recorder and turning his attention from Willow to the blank wall.

Pictures began to flash against the paint. Almost like cave paintings. A woman heavy with child. A Vampire with a look of love and wonder on his face, rather than hunger. Another of the same woman giving birth. The others. The children. The Mother and Father. Pictures of the child, a girl, growing. And then something stopped. Something happened.

A huge gap in time and a painting of the child stalking her parents. Alone. Afraid. As if it was not her will that she enacted. Then her killing them both, with her bare hands, stunned looks upon their loving faces.

The pictures stopped and a deluge of ancient runes flew across the wall, almost too fast to see. Pieces of words he picked up along the way. A story. The next generation of the same tale, once writing replaced art. Did this mean that there was another time that the One was united? One between the First and today?

A question for another time.

The story continued, flashing its horrors across the Windsors’ walls like an ancient tragedy coming to life again. The hairs on the back of the Watcher’s neck stood on end. He wasn’t even sure he could read this language accurately.

But he knew someone who could.

Suddenly, the wall became… just a wall again. There was a gasp and Giles turned just in time to see the light be absorbed back into the Witch’s body, and the wind fade away. The candles flickered out.

“Willow?” Giles asked, running over to the circle, knowing that now the transmission was over, it was safe to cross the line into her sacred space.

She slumped forward against his shoulder, panting, heaving as she caught her breath. “Okay. I’m okay.”

Gently, Giles pushed her upright and brushed the hair out of her face. “Are you sure, Willow? That was quite… remarkable.”

“Took a little wind out of me,” she snarked, smiling fragilely. “But I’m fine.”

Giles nodded, brushing more windblown red locks from her face. “If you’re sure.”

“I’d really like to go home and hold my baby now,” she commented, her voice small. The Watcher nodded again.

“We can review this later, then,” Giles said softly.

“No, no, I mean, we can do it at my house. Download it into our computer and try to figure it out. “ She smiled brightly. “Besides, you’ll never figure out how to work a digital camera.”

He chuckled, lending her a hand to get up. “Quite right there. “

“Call Anya and let her know you’ll be at our place, and I’ll call Buffy and Spike and let them know that they have the house to themselves this evening.” Giles raised an eyebrow. “They deserve a little happy before we drop this one on them, don’t they?”

Again, he nodded. “From the looks of things, it might be quite a large bomb.”

~~~~~

Buffy was nearly racing towards the warehouse. It’d been ages since they got to kill something bigger than a Vamp. Glee, thy name is demon slaughter, she thought to herself.

Spike swaggered merrily behind her, just as enthused at the thought of taking out some of the evening’s pent up aggression on a nasty beast, and then taking his wife home and showing her the what for. Well, quietly at least. Wouldn’t want to wake the tots.

They arrived at the door of the abandoned building and stopped, listening to the sound of growling and something tossing things around. A big something.

Buffy looked over at Spike, raising an eyebrow.

Spike grinned in response.

Just as she was about to open the door, he grabbed her hand. “I’ll do the grunt work, Love. Just help me wear him down a bit.”

She shook her head, disbelieving. “What are *you* talking about? This is *my* job, remember?”

“Ours,” he hissed, still holding her hand. “Now be a good little Slayer and stay out of daddy’s way.”

Buffy huffed, anger boiling. “Stay out of… Oh God, not this again.”

“Not *what*?” He remarked, his own face showing annoyance.

“Got to stay out of the way, Pet. Don’t want to hurt the baby,” she remarked, mimicking Spike’s voice in the most grating faux accent she could muster. Spike cringed.

“Well, you don’t,” he commented.

“Don’t you think I know that?” Her voice held all the pent up rage she wanted to take out against the great oaf that was knocking about behind the closed warehouse door.

“Hope you do, Love. Can’t be too careful.”

“ARGH!” She nearly screamed. “Baby inside. Size of an eraser or something. Not going to get hurt. Been through this before.”

“Mine too, Buffy,” he countered. “Just ‘coz you want to get your jollies beating up some nasty doesn’t mean I’m ready to let you …”

“Don’t!” She snapped, wrenching her hand away from his. “Don’t even say it.” Buffy turned away, clenching and unclenching her hands, showing her back to her Vampire lover.

Spike sighed, his shoulders slumping. Couldn’t be mad at her. Couldn’t make her mad. Wasn’t good for any of them.

Slowly, carefully, he moved up behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist and nuzzling the delicate shell of her ear. “Love, I’m sorry. Okay? Know I get a bit protective sometimes.”

“I wouldn’t do anything to hurt our baby,” Buffy countered, beginning to relax and melt into him.

“I know that, Love. I know.” He kissed her cheek softly. “Just know how much we wanted this. Don’t want to take any chances. All right?”

“Yes,” she said softly. “But Spike, I can fight. You know it. I mean, I was like a house when I came down to find you in that Hell dimension.”

He nodded, inhaling the fragrance of her hair. A new physical reaction was taking over, channeling all that blood and adrenaline from the need to fight to… Had to put that thought to the back of his mind for a moment. “Don’t need to do that now, though, Love. You have me with you. I’ve got your back.”

She smiled, remembering all the times he’d said those words. “Just let me fight, okay? I promise I’ll back out if it gets too dangerous.”

Again, Spike nodded. “Right. I trust you.”

Slowly, she spun in his arms to face him. “Glad we’ve reached an understanding,” she said, rubbing her nose against his and melting him completely.

“Ugh,” Spike grunted, disgusted with himself. “Can I ever stand up to the likes of you?”

“Nope,” she chirped, kissing him gently and pulling away. “Now can we go beat something up?”

He reached for the door handle, opening it quietly. “After you, Pet.”

“Yay!” Buffy chanted, skipping merrily through the door.

~~~~~

It didn’t take long, even in the relative darkness, to find their slime demon. The warehouse must have been some kind of storage facility for freight, as all around them were abandoned boxcars, chains and ropes. Buffy chuckled, remembering her words to her beloved earlier in the evening.

‘Keep those handy for later.’

They followed the noise and the smacking of what sounded like the fake snot that kids enjoyed playing with, thwacking into walls and floors. Spike cringed, his advanced sense of smell picking up on the scent of decay and something akin to boiled eggs.

Finally, they caught sight of the demon as they crouched side by side behind a boxcar. It was huge and, well, slimy, and tossing around the freight boxes like they were giant legos.

“Trying to make a nest,” Spike surmised, looking at the ring of cars filled with softer items and dead animal skins. Both of them squinched their noses.

“You mean it’s a she?” Buffy asked, turning her attention to Spike.

“Female Narza demon,” Spike rattled off. “Carrying a load of eggs.”

“Great,” Buffy commented. She thought for a second. “Doesn’t that mean there’s got to be a boy one somewhere?”

“They can reproduce asexually,” Spike continued, sounding more like Giles than her snide, swaggering Vampire. She turned to look at him. His bright blue eyes. His bleached blonde hair. Muscles rippling under the old t-shirt he’d put on so as not to foul the leather duster.

Definitely not Giles.

Had to push that thought back a minute.

“What fun is that?” She finally offered, a kittenish smile breaking across her face.

Spike returned it, his body heating up just from looking at her. He could sense where her thoughts were going, taking his merrily along.

Had to push that thought back a minute.

“Not much, I’d wager,” Spike finally answered, getting a tenuous grip on his raging hormones.

“So,” Buffy began again. “How do we kill it?”

“Got a li’l opening. Like a blowhole. About here,” he said, pointing at his sternum. “Ram something hard in there and she’ll be done for.”

A smirk crossed Buffy’s face. “Ram something in the hole?”

“Later, Pet,” Spike responded, smiling slyly and picking up a huge iron bar. “Coming along?”

“Bet your hole rammer I am,” she joked, grabbing a second iron bar and standing. They looked at each other for a minute, and took off towards the demon, with a battle cry and a roar.

~~~~~~

It felt blissful, Buffy thought as she and Spike worked in seamless unison, back-to-back, dodging swatting arm-like things and poking the naughty demon with big sticks. They battled furiously, knowing that they could have probably dispatched the Narza far faster than this, but relishing the joy of the fight.

He moved like a cat. A big, angry cat. All of the beautiful fire inside of him coursing through his veins and setting his muscles alight as he alternately took jabs at the creature and protected Buffy as she moved gracefully to the front of the demon, poised and ready to do it in.

“Buffy!” His voice shouted as she aimed the iron rod at the little hole about half way up the creature’s chest. There was no way she’d reach it at her height, the demon being close to twenty feet tall.

She hazarded a glance at Spike just in time to see him drive his weapon into the beast’s arm that was swinging towards her. She nodded her thanks, and looked up. “Can’t reach!”

“Short Slayer,” he commented, smiling as he ran at her. Just as he reached her, she realized what he was doing and ran at him as well. As they got to the spot in front of the demon, he threw his arms back, exposing his chest and she jumped, bracing her feet hard against his flesh and pushing herself up, flipping into the air and eyeing the hole as she spun past.

On her descent, she lined up, ramming the iron bar into the hole with pinpoint precision and lightning speed, flipping her way back to the ground as the demon exploded with an earth shattering scream.

Buffy landed in a pile of ooze, her eyes searching for Spike. She saw him, supine on the floor, staring up at the ceiling with wide eyes. Terror ran through her as she hurtled across the distance between them.

“Spike!” Her voice was thready with fear as she slid to her knees next to him.

He gasped once and pushed himself up on his elbows. “S’alright, Pet. Just knocked the wind out of me.”

She smiled, her soft hand rubbing his chest. “Sorry, baby.”

“Had to be done,” he coughed, shaking his head to try to free his eyes of the ooze. He chuckled, looking at her. “Know you’re pretty, even covered in slime.”

She extended her hand to him, helping him to sit. “Bet you say that to all the girls.”

“Just you, Pet,” he answered, pushing slime soaked blonde hair from her face.

A shrill noise broke their relative silence. It took them both a minute to realize what it was.

Spike’s pocket was ringing.

“Good you,” Buffy joked. “Even remembered the phone!”

Spike smirked, digging it out of his pocket. “Hello?” He panted. She watched him with amused delight as the century old Vampire listened to the disembodied voice on the phone. What would his parents think?

Her amusement turned to something else as he winked at her and raised an eyebrow. “Right. Thanks, Red.”

The phone clicked shut.

“What was that all about?” Buffy asked, helping Spike to his feet.

“Seems that she and her lot decided to take ours home with them tonight. Got the evening to ourselves.”

“And an empty house,” Buffy purred, sidling up to her lover, the adrenaline of battle starting up again.

“Who needs a house, Pet?” Spike said, grabbing her hand and leading her towards the back of the warehouse. She smiled wickedly as she passed a pile of debris, picking up a length of rope on her way out.

“Not us,” she agreed, letting him pull her into the darkness of the night.

To be contd.

Title: Under Cover (Chapter Twelve- Meant to Be)

Author: Nimue

Rating: PG-13

Pairing Buffy/Spike. Most major characters included.

Feedback: Yes, please

For instant notification of fic releases, straight to your mailbox, please visit Always_Everyday@yahoogroups.com

Disclaimer: All characters belong to Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, UPN, Fox... Just Borrowing. (With, of course, the exception of Emma and William, who belong to Buffy and Spike)

The rest of the story can be found at:

and present chapters are being posted on my live journal at:

Summary: For those of you who did not read the rated version, all you need to know is that Buffy and Spike, after having a little alone-time on the beach, broke a pier and trapped all their clothes under the rubble. This is the aftermath of that little tryst. Also, Willow and Giles try to unscramble the cryptic prophesy, and decide that they need to call in the reserves.

Under Cover

Dawn sat silently in the driver’s seat of her SUV, trying to stare anywhere *but* the beach, the motor idling along with her seething anger. Her fingers drummed the steering wheel as she stewed, until something caught her eye.

The parking lot lamplight glittered against the diamond on her finger and she smiled, thinking of the beautiful, dark, man waiting naked in her bed for her to come home.

Naked.

Her bed.

The anger returned.

Two silent forms, wrapped in long, gray wool blankets, climbed into the back seat without uttering a sound. Dawn glanced in the rear view window and let out a sharp, angry exhale.

“Dawnie,” Buffy began.

The younger sister raised one hand quickly in a gesture of silence, and pulled away from the curb.

“Dawn,” Buffy whined again.

“I *don’t* want to hear it,” Dawn snapped.

“Niblet, give your sis a chance…” Spike attempted to mediate.

“I *really* don’t want to hear it from you.” She sighed again, screeching out of the lot. “After all the lectures *you* gave *me*. Ha!”

“Dawn, that’s not fair, it’s just…” Buffy tried again.

“I came. I brought blankets. I’m taking you home. I’ve done enough,” the younger Summers argued.

Spike wriggled inside the itchy blanket. “’Supposin’ the wool is a hint.”

“Damn right!” Dawn replied, turning onto Woodside. “I had some nice, comfy, velour ones right on the couch, but I dug those out Just.For.You.”

“I don’t get why you’re so angry,” Buffy commented, a little afraid of her sister for the first time in… ever.

“Argh!” Dawn grunted, slamming her fist into the steering wheel and then running her hand through her bed-mussed hair. “Let me *count* the ways. Four AM and *I* get a call from the local police, who, thanks to the legal talents of my soon -to-be husband, didn’t *arrest* you for indecent exposure. *And*, speaking of said soon-to-be husband, did it *ever* occur to you that this is *the* night. The first night as… engaged people? I mean, how rude are *you*? It’s like our wedding night or something and you go and call? Because *you’re* stranded naked on the beach after a boff-fest? Brian and I are all in the middle of…”

“Niblet,” Spike growled. “Don’t want to hear this…”

“And *I* don’t need to see my *naked* brother-in-law and my *pregnant* sister climb into wool blankets and sit with their bare *asses* on my leather seats!”

The pair in the back was silent for a long moment. Finally, Buffy uttered, “Point taken.”

“So,” Dawn continued, still seething. “I am going to drop you off, kick you out of my car, and return to the hot, sexy, naked man in *my* bed, and I don’t care *who* wants to hear it or not.”

Both Buffy and Spike stared wide-eyed at the angry red face in the rear view mirror, never having heard their little Dawnie so … put out. Some *major* making up was in their future.

“Sorry, Niblet,” Spike muttered, still in shock as Dawn turned onto Revello.

“Yeah,” Buffy whispered, feeling that same wave of guilt she felt after lying to her mother as a teen and being caught sneaking into the house. “Really sorry.”

Dawn pulled up in front of the house and the car shuddered to a halt. All of them sat stock still for a moment before Dawn took a deep breath and spoke.

“Okay,” she began, her voice a bit calmer now. “I know you guys do a lot. I mean, with the whole world-saving, kid-raising thing.” She stopped, thinking for a moment and staring at the dark street ahead of her. “Look, I’m the first one to say that I want you to be happy and to still have… alone time… as eww as that may be to think about.” Dawn shuddered for emphasis, causing Buffy to chuckle and Spike to smirk. “But I’m a grown woman now and I live with a man who I’m going to marry and I’m… I’m just not at your beck and call anymore.”

“Dawn! We never,” Buffy stuttered, completely taken aback.

“Yes,” Dawn interrupted. “Yes, you did. To me. To all of us. Most of the time, it’s fine, but, I mean… think! This was important to me, Buffy! Tonight. I never, ever, thought I would say yes to *anyone*. Especially not after… after what happened with Mom and Dad. But I did. Because of *you*. Because if I could be half as happy…”

“Nibs,” Spike said softly, hearing the tears well in the girl’s throat.

Dawn recovered. “But you have to learn, the world doesn’t revolve around you, just because you save it.”

Both Buffy and Spike sat dumbstruck and guilty in the back seat, staring at the teary girl in the mirror.

“Now, I love you. But I am going home to spend the weekend in bed with my fiancé. *Please* don’t call me,” she finished.

Dawn clicked a button and unlocked the doors. Spike nodded to her in the mirror, putting his hand on her shoulder as Buffy climbed silently out of the car.

“Sorry, Niblet. Lucky bloke you got. Luckiest.”

Dawn cracked a tired smile through the tears. “Get out of my car, naked Vampire. I might have to yak.”

Spike chuckled, kissing her cheek and sliding out to meet his lover on the curb.

~~~~~~

Pages whined off the computer’s printer at a steady pace as Willow pulled freeze frames from Giles’ video and clicked the keys. The Watcher sat, staring at the pages and rubbing the space between his eyes until it was almost raw. Tara brought in another tray of coffee. Oz was having a sleep over in the kids’ room.

“Find anything yet?” Tara asked, setting the tray down on the coffee table and brushing her hand over Willow’s. The redhead smiled wearily at her lover, squeezing her soft fingers.

“Found out that Buffy has a nifty video camera,” Willow answered, her voice heavy with exhaustion.

“Because of the kids,” Tara deduced. “Maybe we should get one.”

“Soon, baby,” Willow answered, smiling up at her lover’s gentle face.

Giles set the printouts on the table in front of him, trying to piece them together in some semblance of order, rubbing the spot on his forehead the entire time.

“How you doin’?” Willow asked the Watcher, pivoting on her chair to face him.

Giles sighed. “I’m afraid not very well,” he responded. “The paintings are self-explanatory, but these runes…”

“I’ve never seen them before either,” Willow finished, tracing them on the computer screen. “I mean, they’re in a language I’ve never seen before. Nothing even *close*.”

“How…how ‘bout Cyrus?” Tara asked, hopefully.

Again, the Watcher sighed. “I emailed him a sample of the writing. He replied that it was a mystic language, probably used by Priestesses around the time of Arthurian England, but he could not read it.”

“Not of the good,” Willow commented, dropping her head onto her folded arms.

Tara was quiet, thinking about how bad it would be to state the obvious. “Spike could read it,” she said, her voice shaky with nervousness.

“He could,” Giles replied, then let out a deep breath, staring forlornly down at the pages.

Tara stared at them both, a bit confused. Willow squeezed her hand gently, smiling up at her again. “They went through so much with Emma and Will. Probably best if they don’t even *know* that the Prophesy exists unless it’s really something to worry about, you know?”

Tara nodded sagely. “Sorry, but I’m not much with… with the mystic languages.”

Suddenly, Giles jumped off the couch, pouncing on his dinner jacket and rummaging through the pockets until he produced his cell phone. Quickly, he dialed, a sense of hope and of purpose evident on his face.

“Who... who are you calling?” Willow asked, watching the Watcher curiously.

“Someone who I think can help,” Giles answered as the phone rang in his ear. Both girls looked at him quizzically, waiting for him to tell them what he was so worked up about.

That is, until they heard the conversation begin.

“Wesley? Giles. We need your help.”

To be contd.

Title: The Rogue (Chapter Thirteen - Meant to Be)

Author: Nimue

Rating: PG-13

Pairing Buffy/Spike. Most major characters included.

Feedback: Yes, please

For instant notification of fic releases, straight to your mailbox, please visit Always_Everyday@yahoogroups.com

Disclaimer: All characters belong to Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, UPN, Fox... Just Borrowing. (With, of course, the exception of Emma and William, who belong to Buffy and Spike)

The rest of the story can be found at:

and present chapters are being posted on my live journal at:

Summary: A friend appears from LA to help Willow and Giles with the Prophesy. Buffy and Spike are oblivious, at this point, to the danger Buffy and her unborn child may be in.

The Rogue

It was late in the morning when Oz heard a knock on the door. He stirred from his sleeping bag on the floor of the babies’ room. Emma made a faint noise and rolled over. Will was snoring a quiet, gentle snore and the twins were utterly undisturbed by the noise.

Footsteps padded through the living room and Oz decided it was best to lie low, for the time being. Stay with his miniature charges. It was best if someone was there to protect them. There were some major goings-on in Sunnydale and he knew that his part was second string. He’d never been a whiz with computers or a mystical encyclopedia, whether or not he was now a mystical creature. His life had become music and the twins, and Willow and Tara.

And he was damned happy for it.

Oz surveyed the room once again and closed his eyes. This was his place and this was where he belonged.

~~~~~~

Giles rubbed his eyes from his makeshift bed on the couch. The knocking grew more insistent. He heard rustling in the women’s bedroom, but no one was up to answer the door. With a sigh, he stood, still in his untucked white shirt and dark brown pants, and made his way barefoot to the door.

He opened it only as far as the chain would allow, trying to focus. “Hello?”

“Oh, let me in, silly,” Anya’s voice said from the other side of the door. “I miss you and I want to cuddle.”

Giles smiled through his relative annoyance and unchained the door. Anya stood, an overnight bag in hand, Randy on her hip and a look of exhaustion in her eyes.

“You all right?” Giles asked, taking Randy and putting his hand on her shoulder.

“I couldn’t sleep,” Anya answered, looking for all the world like a little girl. “I can’t sleep when you’re not there. Can I stay here with you?”

Giles chuckled, kissing his son gently, and guided her to the couch. “Of course, dear. Although there isn’t much room.”

“I can sleep on the floor,” Anya countered, looking exhausted. She paused, holding the bag out to him. “I brought you PJ’s and clothes. I knew you wouldn’t want to sleep in the nude here.”

Again, Giles chuckled, kissing her cheek. “It’s almost morning, Anya. But thank you.”

As he arranged his wife and son on the couch, another knock came at the door. The Watcher sighed, running a hand through his hair, and heading back to the door, opening it wider this time.

In front of him, completely changed from the last time they’d seen each other, was Wesley.

~~~~~

“Wesley,” Giles said, his shock at the once prim and proper Watcher audible.

Wesley nodded, a leather satchel in one hand, a duffle in the other. “I came as quickly as I could.”

Giles motioned the former Watcher into the entryway, still regarding him with awe and confusion. As they rounded the corner to the living room, Willow stood at the edge of the room, a robe of red silk tied around her. Her jaw dropped open and she positively gaped.

“Willow, you remember Wesley Wyndam-Price,” Giles said softly. Anya was already snoring on the couch, wrapped around her son.

Willow nodded, inspecting the man from a distance. “Ye…yes. But…but he wasn’t…”

“A lot has happened since we last met,” Wesley answered, setting his bag down neatly by the wall.

“I’d say,” Willow responded.

The man before them was no longer the buttoned up Watcher type. He was rugged and handsome, his hair a bit disheveled in a controlled way. Like he’d gotten into some of Angel’s hair gel.

His clothes were different too. Deep brown corduroy slacks and beaten up boots. A thick brown belt and a loose white button down, open a few buttons more than proper. His face was weathered and faint stubble grew over his cheeks and chin. Wesley was lean and muscular now, built a little like Spike only taller. A wide scar went around his neck, stopping at the hollow of his throat.

“Um…” Willow began, involuntarily running a hand through her hair in a nervous gesture. This man was almost enough to make her question the team for which she currently played.

Almost, but not quite.

“Hello,” Wesley said softly, walking towards the girl and shaking her hand.

“You look… different.”

“As I said, a lot has happened,” Wesley responded, no apparent smile on his face, but his voice was warm and welcoming.

Tara stumbled into the room, a longer, pale blue terry robe around her. “Oh,” she muttered as she saw the man. It was all that she could think of to say.

“Wesley,” the former Watcher said, jutting his hand towards the girl. She shook it pensively, her breath caught in her throat.

A voice from behind them spoke up. “Wesley, it seems that we have a Prophesy concerning The One that we… well, we need some help with,” Giles said, moving closer to the rest, still disconcerted by the change in his former protégé.

Wesley turned to Giles. “So you said on the phone. I’ve been following your notes on the One as you sent them. I thank you for that. It’s helpful to have all of the information from the Hellmouth in LA, although I cannot say that Angel has gotten any better about the situation with Buffy and Spike.”

Giles chortled, shaking his head. “We live in the midst of it and often have trouble,” he responded. “But they are happy and their children, The Peacemaker, are well taken care of.”

Wesley nodded. “I’ve no doubt. “

“Besides,” Willow began, “I thought Angel and Cordelia…”

Wesley smiled softly. “Ah yes, our own resident Honeymooners. It’s quite a show.”

Willow chuckled, thinking of how the brooding Angel and the hyper, trendy Cordelia would fit. Apparently, it was working as well.

“I did think that you had very little need for a specialist in mystical languages here, what with your very own Emissary to the Queen as well as Spike’s gift as part of the One,” Wesley commented, laying his satchel down on the glass dining room table.

“I’ll go make some coffee,” Tara commented, feeling like she’d pretty much been designated as snack girl for this mission. Willow took her hand, squeezing it, and smiled.

“Thank you, baby.”

That was enough to make Tara happy in anything she did.

Wesley watched the exchange with a detached amazement, as Tara kissed Willow gently on the lips and went to the kitchen. It seemed that many things had changed since he’d last been here.

Giles fetched the printouts while Willow got some of their texts and Giles filled Wesley in. “To answer your question, Cyrus, the Emissary and Emma’s Watcher, has looked at the samples we sent him, and all he could say was that he thought that the language employed an obscure Runic alphabet, probably used by Priestesses during the Arthurian era. As their culture was quite discreet…”

“Because of the transition to Christianity,” Wesley surmised, taking the printouts from Giles and beginning to arrange them on the table in front of him.

“Right. So there is little if any record as to translation,” Giles continued.

Wesley looked at the layout of the Runes and sighed. “Offhand, I cannot say, but given a little time, I can probably come up with something.” He looked up at Giles. “So why not bring Spike into this? I thought that as part of the One, he was granted his father’s skill with linguistics.”

Giles sighed. “Well, I’ve no doubt he could probably read it. He has not failed on any language or any text we’ve shown him thus far. However, the Prophesy is… sensitive. I do not want to show it to him, or have it get back to Buffy. Not until we’re sure.”

“Sure?” The former Watcher asked, quirking an eyebrow at Giles.

Again, Giles sighed, lowering into a chair next to Wesley. “You see, Buffy is carrying a third child.”

“What?” Wesley asked, a quick intake of breath putting an exclamation point on his shock. “How is that possible?”

“Heavens knows with them,” Giles answered, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “But she is.”

“The One was only meant to produce the one child. The Peacemaker,” Wesley continued, re-arranging the Runes as he spoke.

A feminine laugh broke the intensity. Willow and Tara returned with the coffee and some toast. “Buffy’s never been one to follow the old Prophetic rules,” Willow joked, sliding into a chair across from the men, Tara at her side.

Wesley smiled at the woman. A broad, beautiful smile, making both of them gulp. “No, I don’t suppose she has.”

”This Prophesy, we think,” Giles began again, “has to do with a child of evil born unto the One. A child who will ultimately destroy her family. The Peacemaker. The One itself.”

Wesley looked at Giles, a flash of fear in his eyes. “We can’t let that happen, Rupert. You know that…”

“We know that we need to find a way around this,” Willow commented, her maternal protection instinct taking over. “We need to find a way for Buffy to have this baby safely. So we need to know what the Prophesy says and find its weakness.”

Wesley nodded at the woman, realizing that there was going to be no easy way out on this one. They were not going to let the obvious solution come to fruition, and he and the rest were going to have to tear this thing apart to find another answer. “I’ll do my best.”

“Thank you,” Willow answered, taking a sip of her coffee. “Now, what can we do to help?”

~~~~~~

Spike woke up and stretched, feeling pebbles of sand still stuck to his back. He chuckled, visions of the pier crumbling like the Titanic into the sea running through his head. He and Buffy were no good at being discreet.

A shot of guilt flowed through him as he remembered Dawn’s ire at having to rescue them. Going to have to send some flowers, he thought. Lots and lots of flowers. Gerber daisies. She always liked them. Just like her sis.

Buffy.

Spike rolled over and watched her. She was curled on her side, the graceful curve of her back facing him. Her long hair was tangled with sand and sea water, and her golden body had little scratch marks all over from rough housing in the coarse sand. But she was beautiful. Always so beautiful.

Spike scooted closer, spooning against her from behind. She let out a little satisfied grumble and pushed her warm body against his, fitting in perfectly. His hands lazily grazed her skin, feeling her softness. Her warmth. Touching as much as he could of her. Reminding himself that it was real. This was all real. Sometimes, that thought alone amazed him.

His hand stopped involuntarily over her belly, his fingers splayed, touching, feeling. Buffy’s eyes fluttered open and she laid a gentle hand atop his, letting her fingers caress his skin.

“Morning,” she whispered, craning her neck to catch his lips and plant a gentle kiss.

“Morning, Pet,” he answered, showering butterfly kisses on her neck. “How’re my girls this morning?”

Her hand led his in gentle circles around her belly. “A little embarrassed. A little ecstatic. A lot hungry. Oh, and itchy. Did I mention itchy?”

Spike chuckled. “Why don’t we head into the shower, and then I’ll make the both of you anything you want for breakfast?”

Buffy hummed with satisfaction. “Yummy.”

“That’d be you, Pet,” Spike commented, nibbling at the skin of her shoulder. She melted back into him.

“You know what?” Buffy said as his mouth explored the backs of her arms, her shoulders, back to her neck.

“What’s that, Love?”

“Breakfast can wait.”

To be contd.

Next