Title: The Sound and the Fury (Chapter Eighteen - Meant to Be)

Author: Nimue

Rating: PG-13

Pairing: Spike/Buffy (Most major characters included)

Feedback: Yes, please

For instant notification of fic releases, straight to your mailbox, please visit Always_Everyday@yahoogroups.com . Also, please visit Always_Everyday’s sister group How to Make a Vampire Sundae for fiction with adult content.

The rest of the story can be found at:

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

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

Summary: Spike goes to Buffy and faces her for the first time after the revelation about their unborn child.

The Sound and the Fury

He breathed. In. Out. In. Out. He breathed. It was all he could think of to do.

That, and watch her.

She threw punch after punch against the bag, her hands bare and raw, sweat mingling with tears and running down her face in a torrent of silver. Her body moved with the grace and anger of a lioness, her muscles rippling under taut skin, her fury and her torment and her fear… God, her fear… exuding from every pore.

“Buffy.” He tried to speak, his tone gentle and kind. Tried to make her hear him in the little torture box she’d erected around her. “Buffy, Love.”

Punch. Kick. Grunt. Punch.

He took a step closer. She almost physically pushed him back with the walls she’d put up to protect herself. “We need to talk.”

Spike saw the anger flash through green eyes, even in the darkened room. Another punch. Another kick. “Nothing to say.”

Okay. This was better. Hard, but better.

“Maybe not. But we need to say it anyway, Pet.” It was true. Until they figured something out, there really wasn’t anything that needed to be said. But they needed each other. As close as they were, as much of their mind and body and heart that they shared, sometimes the sound of each other’s voices was the only thing that could tether them together.

“Then do it,” Buffy answered coldly, spinning and walloping the bag with a roundhouse, ducking underneath it as it swung over her head, and attacking it from the other side.

“Takes two to talk, Love.”

“Not what Willow thinks,” Buffy retorted. Grunt. Punch. Punch.

“Buffy…”

“What? What, Spike? Want me to tell you how I feel? What I think?” Another flurry of punches, the sounds from her mouth somewhere between exertion and heartbreak. “Want me to tell you what they said after I left?”

Spike stopped, watching her again. How could she…

“I don’t know,” she interrupted, reading his mind. Not from some gift of the One, but rather just from knowing the way he thought. “But I felt you, Spike. Not a whole lot that would have made you that hurt.”

“Buffy…” He swallowed, holding back tears. “I…”

“They want me to kill my baby,” she stated bluntly. Coldly. With no feeling. But Spike could hear her screaming inside herself. Inside her little box.

“Our baby,” Spike corrected, trying not to lose his mind. Wanting to pummel everything in sight.

Like she was.

“That it?” Buffy continued, her fists flying now, her tears raining down like a summer storm. “Wait, let me guess. We’ll try something else first. Or a couple things. But that’s the endgame, isn’t it Spike?”

“Won’t let it happen,” Spike responded, trying to move a step closer and watching her spin out of his reach to the other side of the bag, her hands bleeding. Her body shaking. “Won’t let them take her away from us. Not now. Not ever.”

“But then she kills us. And Emma,” Buffy said in that same, disconnected tone. Spike understood it, but it was eerie all the same. She was protecting herself from admitting any of this was happening.

Problem with that is when the dam breaks, the flood waters rise.

“Buffy, I won’t let them hurt you. You know that. I won’t let them hurt the baby either. And neither will you.” He tried to be calm. Rational. But his mind was spinning with her hurt and his own.

“Right,” she chuckled, nearly knocking herself down with the force of the accompanying punch. “You want me to kill it too, don’t you? So you don’t have to watch your precious Emma…”

“Enough!” Spike screamed, his hand striking the bag with such force that it ripped from the ceiling, sending it flying into the far wall.

Buffy looked at him for a second, shocked. Her face completely blank, now only two feet from him, with nothing blocking her from those eyes. Those eyes she drowned in a thousand times over.

Spike watched her face change from that cold, angry blank. It was heartbreaking to see the tears rush up behind big green eyes. To watch her resolve waver and the walls come crashing to her feet. Even in his anger at what she had said, he knew, he *knew* she was dying inside.

“Not going to let it happen. Believe me. Don’t care if I have to give up everything I have to save you. To save her and Emma and Will. But I won’t let them take her away from you, Pet. Don’t even talk like that,” Spike said, his voice crackling with anger, but on the edge of breakdown at the same time.

“What…” she took a deep breath, trying not to sob. “What if we have to?”

“You won’t,” he replied coolly, afraid to look at her beautiful face and think of that cold table and her so alone. “Call me old fashioned, Pet, but in my day, people didn’t consider this an option. It’s not. Won’t ever be, to me. You’re my *wife*, Buffy. And she’s my daughter. Not let any sodding prophesy, or hellspawn, or doctor, or *anyone* take her away from us.”

Buffy bit her lip and pushed on. “Spike, what if we have to?”

“Enough!” Spike screamed again, spinning away from her, his fury taking control. Without thinking, he began to beat the wall as furiously as she had beaten the punching bag, his hands cracking the cement, his growls tearing through the air as if they were cracking it. “Enough! Dammit, Buffy. No.”

He could hear her sobbing behind him now, her walls falling to dust, but he couldn’t look. Couldn’t see. Couldn’t face her. Not now. Not if she was even considering the option of letting them win.

“Do you even want this, Buffy?” His turn to lash out. He kicked the sofa, cracking it in half. “Do you even want to fight? Or you just gonna give up and roll over and let them take my baby out of you like she never meant a thing? Serve her up to jolly old Satan on a platter.”

He heard her scream before he felt her blows.

A wail pierced the air full of agony and anger, her fists coming down hard on his back, knocking him to the floor. He was dazed for a second, but hopped up on instinct, facing her. Her hands came in a dizzying flurry, pummeling him with bloody knuckles, her legs shaking. He fought her, careful not to land any blows of consequence, but his own anger not letting this stop.

They danced. It had been a long time since they’d lost themselves in the music that was them. Her hands meeting his, her legs swinging, his body ducking and weaving. Catching her momentum and throwing it back at her, feeling his eyes blacken and his cheeks bruise with every step.

Buffy amazed him with her power. Her speed. Her strength. Still she amazed him. Even though there would be no winner if they ever truly fought, letting her loose against him once again was one of the most beautiful sights he’d seen.

Except for the tears.

Tears streamed down her face as she fought. He hadn’t noticed at first, but his own were burning his cheeks as they slid across marred flesh. She swung. He caught. She kicked, he spun. She landed, he knocked her back. Until all that was left was her.

Banging on his chest with balled fists, screaming into the dark room, sobbing. Falling. Falling. Falling.

He fell to his knees with her, catching her against his chest and pulling her closer, wrapping strong, shaking arms around her shoulders as her balled fists tapped against him almost forcelessly. She was sobbing now. Her whole body quaking with every choked breath, her wet face buried in his chest.

And he could feel his own tears dampen her hair as he buried his cheek and held her.

“Not going to let it happen, Love,” he whispered. “No one ever is going to take this away from us. Yeah?”

She sobbed, her hands now clutching his shirt, tearing it further. Spike tried to calm her, stroking her sweat-matted hair. “Spike, please. I don’t want to give her back. Please don’t let them take her from me. Please. I can feel her inside. She’s ours, Spike. They can’t…”

His eyes closed as he held her, his face contorting in silent anguish. “No one, Love. No one. I won’t let them. I’ll protect you.”

“Please,” Buffy gasped, lifting her head to look at him with red, terrified eyes. “Please, Spike. I love her. I love you. I love...”

Spike pressed his lips to hers, silencing her words, catching her sobs in this throat and returning them with a desperate kiss. She broke, staring up at his face for a moment, knowing, feeling.

He wasn’t going to let this happen.

Neither was she.

She pushed up on her knees, crushing her lips to his in a desperate plea for contact. Her hands grabbed the tattered remains of his shirt, ripping it off and sliding what was left over his shoulders as his tongue searched her mouth, seeking respite in her. Seeking solace.

It took only a moment for their clothes to be scattered over the floor and a terrified, desperate lovemaking to begin. As if they could make sure no one could take her away from them by holding her inside forever. If they could make it stop just by loving alone.

Because love truly does conquer all.

And true love conquers even Hell itself.

~~~@~~~@~~~@~~~

Buffy came to, curled tightly in a ball, Spike spooned behind her, his arm wrapped protectively around her. It was full dark now, and the moon shone through the faded glass of the training room.

“You alright, Pet?” A comforting purr sounded in her ear as gentle fingers danced over bruises on her pretty skin. “You know… I never meant to hurt you. Not with words or with…”

She smiled softly, putting her hand over his. “I’m okay,” Buffy whispered. “Is this how we deal with fear and fury now?” A soft giggle replaced some of the fear in her voice.

“What? Beat each other to a pulp and then shag senseless? Sounds like old times, Pet. Not broken don’t fix it and all that rubbish,” he answered, running a hand lazily down her spine and making her shiver as she giggled.

Buffy lay silent for a long time, trying to still herself and feel. Feel him loving her. Feel her baby inside of her. Feel safe and warm and loved, even if it was just for a moment.

“I’m so sorry, Love,” his voice whispered, planting a gentle kiss on her shoulder.

She rolled to face him, her eyes shut and a small smile on her lips, savouring the moment of peace. “No, I’m…”

Her words were cut short as her eyes opened to the damage her anger had done. Spike’s face was bloodied, his nose cracked, lips bleeding. Both eyes were black. One was swollen shut.

“Oh my God,” she whispered in horror. “Oh my God.”

“Buffy,” he whispered, not knowing how bad the damage was, knowing it hurt a hell of a lot but feeling her hurt inside was so much worse.

Tears sprang to her eyes once again as she freed her hands and ran them over his face. “Spike…” Tears choked her voice. “Oh God. I…”

“Buffy, we both did things. Said things…”

“No,” she said softly, her fingers grazing broken skin, hoping, praying she could put this back together again. “I have a couple of bruises…”

“Shh,” Spike whispered, stroking her hair and trying to calm her again. There was enough in store for them. She didn’t need to be any more upset than she had been. Wasn’t good for her and wasn’t good for the child she was protecting. “It’ll heal.” He smiled a little, trying to kiss away the tears that had begun to fall slowly from her red eyes.

“I can’t… why? Why do you forgive me? How do you forgive me?” Buffy whispered, her voice so thready and small. “Why do I keep doing this to you? Why?”

“Buffy,” Spike said softly. “You are the Slayer. I am a Vampire. This... this is what we do. What we’ve always done. The dance is part of us. We’ve held it back, but it’s still part of us.”

She swallowed, her eyes still glazed over with tears. “But I… I just… your face.”

“It’ll heal,” he whispered, kissing her forehead. “But can’t have any more of that. Tot can’t be comfy with all that banging round in there.”

Buffy chuckled through the tears, feeling them both with her for the first, true time. Feeling how much love there was between them. More than any mortal could ever understand. “Spike, I’m sorry. I can’t take it back, but I can say I’m sorry I hurt you.”

He smiled, making a show of wiping blood from his lip. “You’ll make it up to me somehow.”

Snark. Every Vampire’s most deadly weapon.

Except….

“As a matter of fact,” Buffy whispered her voice now a kittenish purr. Her mouth moved over the cuts on his face, sealing them, kissing them clean, her tongue laving over raw skin. Her body pressing hard and firm against his. “I think I might start now.”

“Buffy, you don’t have to… I was just….” Spike babbled as her hands explored the rest of his body, rendering him nearly senseless and completely at her mercy.

“What?” Buffy responded, knowingly. “Make love to my beautiful Vampire husband and help him heal? I know I don’t have to. Selfish that way.”

Spike hummed in response. “Right then, selfish it is.”

To be contd.

Title: Respite (Chapter Nineteen - Meant to Be)

Author: Nimue

Rating: PG-13

Pairing: Spike/Buffy (Most major characters included)

Feedback: Yes, please

For instant notification of fic releases, straight to your mailbox, please visit Always_Everyday@yahoogroups.com. Also, please visit Always_Everyday's sister group How to Make a Vampire Sundae for fiction with adult content.

The rest of the story can be found at:

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

Disclaimer: All characters (save for the ones I made up) belong to someone other than me; they belong to Mutant Enemy, Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Angel the Series, Fox, WB, their affiliates, lawyers and all sorts of other folks that aren't me. :::sigh::::

Summary: A relatively angst free break from the drama. Spike and Buffy deal with the repercussions of their argument, but find out that some things are still right with the world.

Respite

The phone rang only once before the line clicked on. "Xander?"

"They're here. My house," he answered, reading her mind. "Thought that we'd have a little sleepover tonight and then maybe take them to Disney for the weekend."

Buffy sighed her relief into the receiver. There was nothing more she wanted than to go home and climb in her bed with her Vampire and their kids and sleep for three straight days, but the thought of the babies seeing the two of them.

They weren't old enough to understand that this wasn't right. This was bad. Bad. You didn't go around beating people up, especially people you love. The fact that their natures and their abilities, their true selves as Vampire and Slayer, made it possible for them to fight in this way was too much for their children to really understand. At least now.

"You okay?" Xander's voice was nervous, as if he wasn't sure what to say, but he needed to say something.

Buffy nodded, leaning against the training room wall, then realizing he couldn't see her. "Um, I guess."

"They told me," Xander continued. "Just now. Buff, I didn't know."

"I know," she choked. And she knew he didn't. Xander would have told her. At least by accident.

"Is it bad?"

She wrinkled her brow, watching Spike dress in silence. "What? I mean, the situation doesn't get much worse."

"No, no," Xander corrected, sighing. "I mean, I know that. hell, Buffy."

She swallowed, trying to keep the blissful calm that she'd had for a few moments lying in the shadows of the training room, curled against her one true love. "Just not sure I'm with the understanding."

Buffy could hear Xander's mind working over the phone line. "I. I know that what's going on. I know it's. I can't imagine. Anyway, I just. I know you. I know Spike. How you react."

A humourless chuckle escaped her lips and Spike cocked an eyebrow, buckling his belt as she leaned into the wall. "Yeah, it's pretty bad."

"Do you need Takina to be there.? I mean, when you get home? Is it that bad?" Xander got it. Got that that was how they were. When things were really bad, they didn't talk; they threw insults, said things they didn't mean, pummeled each other, and only then could they really speak and get it done. Oh, and the make-up sex. But that was something Xander chose not to think too much about.

"Um, probably," Buffy said, rubbing an angry bruise on her shoulder, and wincing at the dried blood on her lover's broken nose. "But we heal really well. I'll take care of it."

"Spike okay?" Xander asked calmly, just trying to keep her together for a minute longer. She was all right on the phone. Sounding a little like Buffy.

Another long sigh. "It's pretty bad, Xander. I mean, other than the mental stuff. I kind of. I rearranged his face. And I. God, why do any of you stay around me? Why do any of you love me?"

Her voice broke into another sob and she almost dropped the phone. He groped for words that would show her he understood. That was just how it was. How it always would be. That Spike didn't mean to say the things he said, and she didn't mean to do the things she did. It just. it was part of them.

The words escaped him.

"Buffy. I.."

Another sob and he could hear Spike cooing to her quietly and the rustle of the phone being taken away and lifted by another hand.

"Harris," Spike growled into the phone.

"I. I didn't mean to make her cry," he stuttered, hearing the sound of kisses and murmurs in the background.

"No, Mate. Know that. Just. she's a bit . broken, is all," Spike said, his voice softening. "Both are."

"I know." It was all Xander could think of to say. "What can I do? I mean, Emma and Will are here and I was going to take them to Disneyland for the weekend. Give them a break."

Spike sighed, wanting to hold his children. But they wouldn't, they couldn't, understand. Not this. Not yet.

"Thanks," Spike whispered into the phone, wrapping his arm around Buffy and pulling her into his chest. "Just."

"Tell me what I can do, Spike. Please. God, you know I'm not all quick thinking man."

"Nothing you can do," Spike answered. "Nothing more than what any of us are doing."

"But Willow and Tara are doing the whole spell thing and Giles and Cyrus and Wes are working the research and."

"And you're doing what we need most," Spike cut off. "Minding our tots while we suss this out. Taking care of them like your own. Right?"

Xander smiled. Spike had this completely dichotomous personality sometimes. One minute, he's shouting obscenities as he beheads a demon, and the next he's comforting them all when he's the most in need of comfort.

"I'll take care of them, Spike. I promise." He could feel his voice begin to crack. "Buff. Buffy said that it was bad but she didn't want Takina."

"Send her over. Want the baby checked out," Spike interrupted, his hand caressing Buffy's belly softly as she clung to him. "Think she's fine. Didn't. I made a point of."

"I know," Xander answered. "I know that, Spike. "

"Just. she was pretty upset and I need to be sure." The Vampire's voice began to waver just a bit. He coughed, regaining his composure and taking on that gruff voice. "Send her by if you would."

"She's leaving now," Xander said quietly as Spike heard the rustling of coats being put on and dinner plates being cleared. "You going to be."

"Have to go, Harris," Spike growled, knowing he couldn't keep it together much longer and he had to be strong. Had to be strong enough for Buffy and still be able to think his way out of this. No one was taking their baby. "Thanks for minding the tots."

"Course," Xander said, taking a breath to start another sentence and hearing, instead, the line go dead.

~~~~~@~~~~~@~~~~~@~~~~~

Buffy lay on the bed, moonlight pouring into their room and the desk lamp glowing softly on the bedside table. Spike paced along the wall, chewing the skin on his thumb as Takina began her examination.

The doctor had brought a portable ultrasound with her that Spike had fished out of the car while Takina appraised Buffy's physical state. Now Takina had her lying there on their bed, her clean t-shirt pulled up to her ribs and her sweats pulled down just a little to expose the slight swell that would be their baby. It wasn't even noticeable yet to anyone but Spike.

And her.

She complained every day about how she couldn't button this or zipper that and ugh, she was going to be a moose this time and she didn't want to get fat and you'd think it would be easier the third time or wasn't there any way to just poof them into existence without all the beached whale part?

And he always comforted her by telling her that she was never more beautiful than she was with a belly full of their child. That everything about her was more beautiful. The way she glowed. The way her breasts swelled and her hips curved and their baby grew. That he'd be happy to have her trot round the house naked at full term - but he'd have a hell of a time keeping his jeans buttoned himself.

Now, he could feel her mind as Takina spread the liquid over her stomach. That she'd be uncomfortable and swollen and have to wear muumuus for years - but she'd do it, do anything, to save her child. To make sure nothing else happened. She'd be glad to feel the full weight inside of her and get kicked and crave pea soup and want to vomit every other moment.

Spike doubted there would be much complaining this time round.

But he'd still tell her how beautiful she was anyway.

Spike's head spun when a reassuring 'woosh' started from the sound device attached to the little portable gadget Takina had brought.

"That means everything's okay, right?" Buffy asked, her voice a little too jittery.

"Right. Nothing to worry bout, yeah?" Spike said coming over to the bed as a grainy picture came up on the screen.

It wasn't much, yet. And it was sort of hard to understand as the baby was only blob-ish at this point. Buffy was only a little over two months. But still she cried, looking at it. And still, Spike held her hand.

"She seems fine," Takina said, smiling reassuringly. "Not that I suggest any more bar room brawls for the two of you."

Both Spike and Buffy shook their heads like kids being told to never to do it again. "But no harm done here. Looks completely normal."

Takina let them watch a minute longer, moving the paddle around to try and get an angle that might make sense to them. But there really wasn't too much to see at this point. "When you're a little further along, Buffy, we'll do another one so you can see her again."

"Ev. everything's okay, though?" Buffy asked, her voice as small as a child's. Takina gave her some tissues to wipe herself down and clicked off the monitor.

"You're sure?" Spike questioned, still holding on to Buffy's hand.

Takina laughed. "Nothing at all wrong with her. Exactly what she should be at this point. No damage."

She could hear both of them sigh as she packed away her kit and then stood up, her medical bag in hand. "Seems you might need a little work, though," she joked, walking towards the battered Vampire.

"Be fine," Spike said defensively, taking a step back.

"Spike." Takina's voice commanded.

"Sit." Buffy's order.

So the Vampire sat and let Takina clean his cuts and make sure his nose would heal straight. Buffy stroked the back of his neck, calming him, as the doctor worked, debriding wounds and suturing the worst of them. Spike refused a painkiller and insisted he'd heal without all this fuss. But both Takina and Buffy held him still on the bed, with glares and the feminine tool of guilt as their manipulation device, and his knowledge that Buffy would be wracked with real guilt if one of the blows she had thrown left a scar. She never meant to hurt him. He knew that. She'd said as much.

It wasn't long before Spike was loading the equipment back into the Harris's minivan - a purchase over which Spike had given Xander quite a ration of teasing, but had to admit, it did come in handy for hauling large numbers of small people to events.

Takina was silent as Spike helped her load up, until she was about to get into the driver's seat. "For what it's worth, Spike," she said, a little smile on her face, "after watching you two fall in love with a baby too tiny to make out, there's no way in hell *I'm* going to let them take her away from you. You've got me for whatever you need."

Spike smiled, kissing her cheek and helping her into the car. "Means a lot. We do love her. Loved her before she was even there, I think." He slammed the car door shut behind the doctor. "But s'good to know we got you on our side in this."

"You do," Takina whispered, patting Spike's hand as she started the car. "And don't worry about Emma and Will. She's taken to helping Xander with some carpentry projects in the garage. Well, he's letting her paint some of River's new furniture. And Will could just be sitting there staring at River and never be happier."

That made Spike laugh. "Like father like son, I guess. Could look at Buffy all day."

"Sap," Takina joked, patting his hand once more and then putting the car in drive.

He put his hands over his heart as if he was wounded and she drove away, waving.

~~~~~@~~~~~@~~~~~@~~~~~

"So, Pet," Spike announced, coming back into the bedroom. "Hungry?"

She shook her head, still a bit forlorn. But he wasn't sure making her talk right now was the best thing to do. She knew in her head at this moment that her baby was okay and the world was revolving and her kids were safe and that he wouldn't let anything happen to them. No more talking needed till she was ready.

"Or," he said, sly grin on his face and eyebrow raised in that sexy little sentiment. He slid his way onto the edge of the bed and crawled up to meet her face to face. "Or," he whispered again, lips caressing her ear with his breath and his words, "I could run you a bath, then spend all night cleaning parts of you that you didn't know were. dirty. Pet."

He enunciated the last word, letting it drip from his lips like spiced honey.

She blinked up at him and he wasn't sure. was he losing his touch with her? She just stared at him for a minute, her eyes wide and still wet from tears.

Finally, a little smile broke on her lips. "What is it with us? I mean, do most people just. fight and then have world ending sex when they get upset, or is it just us?"

He returned her smile. "Just us, I think, Love."

"Lucky us."

To be contd.

Title: Ignorance is Bliss (Chapter Twenty - Meant to Be)

Author: Nimue

Rating: PG-13

Pairing: Spike/Buffy (Most major characters included)

Feedback: Yes, please

For instant notification of fic releases, straight to your mailbox, please visit Always_Everyday@yahoogroups.com. Also, please visit Always_Everyday’s sister group How to Make a Vampire Sundae for fiction with adult content.

The rest of the story can be found at:

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

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

Summary: Spike and Buffy enjoy a little private clean-up time. That is, until, their privacy is interrupted by what was once their teenaged fan club.

Ignorance is Bliss

“Okay…. So… Yummm,” was all she could come up with to say as the tepid water splashed around her now sweaty form. How one could get dirty, or at least sweaty, in the tub was something that she hadn’t quite figured out. But leave it to Spike to find a way.

Spike lounged bonelessly back against the cool ceramic, panting, his hair a mass of tangled curls. “Redefines good, clean fun, doesn’t it, Love?” His tongue pressed against his teeth and he smiled a devious little smile.

Buffy had no choice but to return it. Not only was he too sexy when he did that, but he was kinda cute too. With his hair curly and unruly and this sly smirk that covered a little boy smile of sheer glee. Not to mention, it was truly difficult to be upset about anything after having not one, but two, mind blowing orgasms in a tub.

He pulled the plug with one foot and the water began draining, but he made no move to leave the little shell of bliss.

“Uh. Done with the bath, right?” Buffy asked, sitting between his legs, chin on her hands on the side of the bathtub.

A water-warmed finger trailed down her back. She turned her head and watched him slide that finger into his mouth and taste it; pink tongue darting out to lick the tip. “Think we might need another. ‘Less you want to smell like you just had a bit of a rumble in the bath.”

Buffy did her best to smirk and then chuckled. “Bath time bath this time. The rubber ducky clean kind?”

Spike thought for a moment, boyish pout on his face, and then sighed deeply. “I suppose.”

Buffy laughed again, leaning back against his chest as he turned the tap on with his talented feet, refilling the bath with warm water. It made her wonder if there was any part of his anatomy that was not clever. Any bit of Spike that wasn’t able to impress her.

That thought ended as the bubble bath bottle went flying past her and hit the mirror across the room. “Stupid, sodding…”

“That evil elixir of the devil,” Buffy finished, getting up onto her knees and retrieving the slick bottle from the floor where it landed. “You know, these things can get wily. A menace to bath time at large.”

She pulled off the cap and poured vanilla and rose scented liquid under the water, filling the room with the most delightful smelling steam. A little sexy.

No. This is clean bath, she reminded herself.

“So, Pet,” Spike purred, pulling her back down between his legs and wrapping his arms around her as she lay back into his chest. “What do we do for an encore? Don’t know if I can top that bit of maritime lore.”

Another chuckle from Buffy. “Uh, you always seem to be able to top the last time. But this one’s strictly for cleaning, Vamp boy. Take this and start swabbing the decks.”

She handed him a loofah, leaning forward and grabbing his ankles, so that Spike could reach every inch of her back. He thought a moment, thinking of how big and bad he really was at this point and decided that his life as a renegade was pretty much over. No more were the days of pillage and loot. Nope. Back scrubbing.

And then she started to moan quietly as he worked the suds into her skin and he rethought the pros and cons of his current raison d’etre. A squirming, moany Slayer, naked between his legs.

Oh yeah. He was still the Big Bad.

That thought was quelled as footsteps traveling at roughly the speed of light thundered up the stairs and the bedroom door flew open. Spike and Buffy both shot bolt upright in their thankfully full tub, waiting, muscles tense. Bodies tight.

“Buffy! Dammit. Spike!”

Dawn.

Before either of them could get out of the tub and locate something more decent, not that they had anything as neither of them were too hurried about the concept of putting clothes on, the younger Summers burst into the bathroom, waving her hand wildly in front of her face to clear the steam.

Buffy sunk lower in the tub, pressing back against Spike. Crap.

“Uh, hi?” Summers-the-elder answered, annoyance in her tone. “And can you get the hell out of the bathroom?”

Spike sat stock still, not quite sure what to do. Getting up was not an option, as not only was he not wearing anything but his lower brain was on overdrive, reminded of his own bigness and badness. Buffy had sunk lower and was now pressed against him, making matters a bit worse.

“No, I can’t get out of the bathroom!” Dawn screamed, putting her hands on her hips. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

Buffy looked back at Spike without moving. She realized the situation was a bit worse than what could be seen above the heavy suds, and knew that wiggling wasn’t going to make it much better.

“S’called bathing, Pet,” Spike answered, trying to keep his tone even. “A lot of us do it.”

Dawn smirked, hands planted firmly on her hips. “I got a call from Willow,” she continued, her voice cold.

Spike nodded. Buffy’s head dropped. So, that was what this was about.

The younger girl’s voice lowered, her anger turning into fear and sympathy. “Why didn’t you call me? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Sort of busy, Dawn,” Buffy said quietly, never raising her eyes, her voice becoming hollow. Solemn.

“What? Too busy screwing Spike to …”

“Niblet!” His voice was sharp. Clear. “Enough.”

Dawn’s eyes flitted to Spike, flames in her gaze. “You should have called.”

Buffy looked up, teary, but her voice was more angry. “Last I talked to you, Dawn, you didn’t want to hear from us again for a while.”

Dawn thought for a moment, remembering her admonishment after picking her sister up from police custody. “Well, I didn’t mean…”

“You didn’t qualify it much,” Buffy interrupted. “Besides, there’s nothing…. We haven’t figured out what to do.”

The steam began to clear out of the bathroom, leaving Dawn a better view of what was going on. Yes, they were in the bathtub together. Yes, they were definitely… so they weren’t doing the social hot tub thing with the bathing suits and the martinis. But … God.

Spike was covered in bruises of all shades of black and purple and sickly green, stitches over his eye and cheek. Lip split. Eyes dull. Buffy was slumped against him. Shoulders bruised and arms shaking, her hands raw and bloody.

They both looked afraid. Terrified.

“Buffy…. Spike… I….”

Buffy turned her head away from her sister, burying it in Spike’s shoulder as he wrapped his arm more tightly around her.

“Niblet, why don’t you go to the kitchen and put on some tea, right? Be down in a few minutes and tell you everything, all right?” Spike said calmly, his fingers ghosting over Buffy’s back as he spoke.

Dawn nodded numbly, the tableau of how bad things really were painted just for her to see. Maybe she didn’t want to know after all.

~~~@~~~@~~~@~~~

Dawn was sitting on the counter, a soup bowl sized mug of tea on one side of her, a bottle of Jim Beam she’d pilfered from Spike’s collection on the other side. She’d already doctored the tea and was old enough not to hide it anymore.

Spike walked in, a pair of loose blue sweats hanging low on his hips and a white shirt thrown over his shoulders. His hair was still a tangled mass of curls and he smelled like Buffy. Like roses and vanilla. It made Dawn smile.

“Hey,” she said as he made his way over to the cupboard, taking another enormous mug and skipping the tea altogether, pouring himself a generous portion of Kentucky’s finest. “Not a good day.”

“No.” It was simple. Quiet. But that one word made her feel the despair that she’d gotten a glimpse of upstairs. A word full of power and emotion.

“Guess not,” Dawn repeated in the same quiet tone, taking a swig of her drink and coughing a little.

The corners of Spike’s mouth quirked up a bit. “Aim for a little more tea and a little less rotgut next time, Pet.”

Dawn tried to smirk, but didn’t feel much like putting in the necessary effort. She took another sip, swallowing smoothly, and set the mug next to her. “Gonna tell me what’s going on?”

Spike’s head dropped and he ran a hand through his hair. “Short version only, Love. Don’t really have it in me to…”

“Short version,” Dawn agreed, pulling a stool in front of her with one long leg and tapping her foot on the top. Spike looked at her for a moment, so different from her sister and so much the same, and sat down on the offered stool.

“Seems that Rupert and Red got notice of a new little Prophesy ‘bout us.

Called in the troops from Angel-ville to suss out their take…”

“Angel’s here?” Dawn said, beginning to bristle. She didn’t really *know* Angel. Not really. But she did know that he and Spike weren’t best of friends and if there was any Vampire she was backing, he was blond, living in her mum’s old house, and sitting four feet away.

Spike shook his head, taking a long pull of whiskey. “No. Watcher Jr. Wesley.”

”Faith’s old Watcher?” Dawn asked, remembering pictures of a geeky guy in a seersucker suit.

The Vampire nodded. “Though he’s a bit rougher round the edges now. Guess losing your charge and spending a few years in the company of Peaches will do that to a bloke.”

Dawn laughed. Spike got more and more … Brit… when he got upset. Spike had to smile back at her. It’d been a while since he’d spent any time with her. Even in these less than optimum circumstances, it was nice to have his Niblet’s full attention.

“So, Wesley came and…” Dawn prodded, taking another sip and grabbing for the whiskey bottle. Spike snatched it away.

“Plan on sleeping here, Love?” He asked, his finger hooked under the rim.

Dawn sighed, shaking her head. “No. Brian’s at home in…”

“Don’t want to know…,” Spike interrupted. He knew quite well what Brian was home doing, or recovering from or waiting for. Much the same as what he’d just enjoyed with his own love of his life. But knowing it and hearing it… “Don’t get any more of this then, do you?”

“Okay, okay,” she conceded, sipping at her now-mostly-tea. “So, Wesley came and…”

Spike’s head lowered and he swirled the liquid in the cup, watching it whirl around the pale blue painted ceramic. “Sorted out what Rupert and Willow already knew.”

“About… about Buffy’s baby?” Dawn said tentatively, her face dropping to try and catch his gaze.

Spike nodded slightly. “Our baby,” he repeated. “Since I had a hand in it and all.”

Guilt swept over Dawn in waves. However, Sunnydale had taught her one good trick. Humour always helped take back the bad. “Don’t think it was a hand, Spike.”

Red spread across his cheeks in a bright wave. She smiled. He blushed. Dawn made William the Bloody blush. Go Team!

“’Nough out of you, Pet,” Spike finally said, recovering from the momentary shock of having what was once his fifteen-year-old fan club say something particularly naughty. “Sure you know more than enough by now, much as I hate to admit it. But let me keep the fantasy that you sit round that apartment of yours playing Scrabble with the boy and sending him to the couch when you’re through, all right?”

Dawn smiled, chuckling. “Right. Scrabble. Oh, and s'mores. We eat s'mores. And he sleeps on the porch. Outside. On a chain. And he hasn’t found the key to my chastity belt yet.”

Spike nodded, a smile spreading. “Better.”

“Glad to be of help.” She took another sip of tea, watching him take another pull from his whiskey. “Now you going to let me be with the other thing?”

“See your grasp of the Queen’s English is up there with your sis,” Spike joked, trying not to think about the rest of this conversation.

Dawn wasn’t letting him get away with it. “Spike…”

He sighed, staring at the amber liquid in the blue ceramic. “Nothing you can do, Love. Not yet.”

“What’s the plan? I mean, I’m the Key still, right? We can open some dimensional portals and kick some butt or something, right?” Dawn asked, knowing that nothing in life had been that simple in a long, long time. But a girl could hope.

A long moment passed before Spike spoke again. “Not sure what we can do, Pet. Seems that this week’s winner of the Prophesy sweepstakes says that the Mite Buffy’s… Well, that the dark hats will have some hold on the tot. That she’ll be… that she’ll want to do us in. Us, Emma….”

Dawn watched it pass over Spike’s face like a rain cloud. The darkness. The sadness. Darker than any bruise. Any suture. Any anything. Horrid sadness crushing him right in front of her.

“Spike?” Dawn asked quietly.

He didn’t answer at first. “What is it, Nibs?”

“They haven’t won yet.” It was a simple statement. But so true. So full of truth.

“No, Pet. They haven’t,” Spike said quietly, feeling a little stronger just for hearing it. “Tried though.”

Dawn sighed, hopping off the counter and walking over to her brother-in-law. “What makes you think they will this time?”

Spike nodded a bit, letting her long arms wrap around his shoulders. “Dunno, Love. Just... feel so helpless. Can’t even protect the tot properly. Can’t even hold her….”

“I know,” Dawn whispered, hugging him close. “But you will. Both of you. And we’ll win. Because it’s what we do. You know. The good guys. We win. We save the World. A lot.”

Spike chuckled, kissing her cheek and gently standing Dawn upright. “Go home to your… Scrabble game. Plan your wedding.”

Dawn giggled like the little girl Spike remembered, and hopped up and down. “You have to win! I’m putting this off so Buffy doesn’t have to wear a muumuu in my bridesmaid pictures.”

“Don’t you ever say that to her!” Spike joked, punching her arm gently. “I’ll never hear the end of it!”

Dawn dodged out of the way, still giggling. She stopped at the back door, becoming quiet for a moment. “Spike, you’ll win. I know you and I know Buffy. And you have me. I mean, I may not be all Super-Slayer or hottie-Vampire-fighting machine, but I can still help.”

Spike smiled, standing and finishing his drink. “You still think I’m hot, Niblet? Thought that ended years ago…” He smirked. One full of effort and charm.

“Vampires,” Dawn muttered, shaking her head and letting herself out the back door.

To be contd.

Title: Out of Reach (Chapter Twenty-one - Meant to Be)

Author: Nimue

Rating: PG-13

Pairing: Spike/Buffy (Most major characters included)

Feedback: Yes, please

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

Summary: The weekend is over, and the SG reconvenes to try and figure out how to overcome this massive obstacle without taking the baby. Angst warning.

Out of Reach

The weekend was over far too fast. Sunday evening and they’d barely begun to heal. Looking at each other, the bruises and cuts were faded but visible, but seeing each other’s eyes … the wounds were cutting far deeper.

There had to be a way out.

Spike walked around the lower level of the house, absently picking things up and putting them down again someplace else. He called it cleaning. It was more akin to pacing while carrying toys.

Buffy tried to pull herself together upstairs. They’d slept, made love, thought, screamed, cried, for two days straight and neither of them knew what to do. Then again, they didn’t have all the information, right? Giles and Willow and Wesley… they’d figure it out. They had the documents and those creepy pictures. They’d know.

They had to.

She heard the doorbell ring and hurried up with the dressing. Pulling her jeans up, she realized they wouldn’t zipper. In all the upset about losing the baby, she was forgetting she had it at all. A sad smile broke on her face as her hand stayed over the pants that wouldn’t close. Normally, this was the moment that the first hissy fit was pitched. Where she yelled at Spike for making her wardrobe outdated and she cried in the bathroom for half an hour because there was very little worse than being fat, in her mind. Being dead. Being without her family and friends.

And losing this.

Being fat wasn’t so bad after all.

Slowly, she slid the jeans down to her ankles as the bedroom door creaked open.

“First lot’s here, Pet,” he said, as the door hit the back wall and bounced back towards him. Sometimes, he forgot his own strength.

Buffy nodded, her back to him, her body still bent from sliding her jeans down. He watched her for a moment, rifling through a drawer, her back so tense that it could have doubled as a tight-rope.

“You all right, Love?” Spike began, walking towards her. He saw her shudder once and heard a quiet noise.

Tears.

“Hey,” he whispered, walking over to her and standing her up, turning her to face him. “What’s wrong, Love? Other than the obvious.”

She chuckled, trying to look at him, but afraid to see his eyes again. The pain there. “My pants won’t button,” she answered quietly.

Spike rolled his eyes, running his hands through her hair and looking down at the jeans pooled on the floor. “Should know better than to keep trying the tightest ones,” he countered, kicking them away. “Probably shrunk them in the wash, Love.”

Her fingers wound into the t-shirt material at the base of his spine and she shook her head. “No, it’s real.” She let go with one hand and slid it around his waist, with her other hand taking his and running it over her stomach. “Miracle-Gro or something.”

Spike smiled softly at her. “Going to start the war already? How I’m a lecherous pig for destroying your collection of well fitted pants with my unending desire to have you in every position possible?”

Through her tears, she laughed. “I kinda like that,” she answered quietly. “The desire thing.”

“Good to know,” Spike answered, kissing her neck just below her ear and making her quake.

Buffy pushed him away and ventured a look into those endless blue eyes. “But I want my wardrobe to be completely useless. Totally non-fitty. And…”

The tears came back with ferocity as she wrapped her mind around it again. Spike felt her heart break and couldn’t help but feel utterly helpless. He could help her make the baby, but there was little he could do to help her keep it.

Other than go downstairs and find a way to destroy whoever was doing this in the most painful, ruthless way he could. And laugh as he did it.

“It’ll be all right, Buffy,” Spike whispered, pulling her head to his chest and backing them towards the bed. “We can win this like everything else, all right? And I’m sure in no time, you’ll be screaming your sodding lungs out because you have to move into those sexy jeans with the front bit missing and the giant fabric panel…”

Buffy chuckled, remembering the last time she’d had to wear those. She never did get huge, at least in comparison to her friends, but she still couldn’t fit into even his sweats by the end. “You love them, face it.”

Spike sat her down on the edge of the bed, rifling through her drawer and pulling out a pair of regular jeans, a size or two too big. Made for Slaying rather than fashion. Slowly, he walked to her and knelt, pulling the denim over her feet, sliding it over her ankles, her calves. “I do. Love anything you are wearing. Love everything you aren’t.”

“Perv,” Buffy chuckled, tears still streaming down her face as he worked the jeans up her thighs and lifted her with one hand, pulling them the rest of the way up with the other.

Slowly, gently, he leaned forward, kissing her lips. Not a hungry kiss. Not even a lazy one. Just a sweet, silent, closed mouth kiss, pressing his lips to hers as he buttoned each button around the small swell of her belly with ease.

When she was dressed, he pulled away, looking at her softly. “Make sure even these don’t fit in a few months, all right, Pet?”

She nodded as he stood, pulling her up with him, then leaning in to brush the tears from her face with his thumb.

“Need you to focus now, Pet. All right? Don’t blame you for falling apart. Feeling a lot like that myself. But we need to suss this out. We can fall apart again later.” His hand wrapped snugly around hers and he fitted his fingers into the spaces between her own.

“I will. Promise,” she answered, softly. He watched her, smiling, as she steeled herself visibly. Her sad, lost features becoming determined and brave. She’d be a horrid poker player.

“Let’s go then,” Spike encouraged, kissing the top of her head and leading her out the door.

~~~@~~~@~~~@~~~

The dining room table had become the center of a war room by the time they had made it downstairs. Books and slides and pictures and even white boards lay all over the room. A small TV with a VCR was at the edge of the table. Wesley, Giles and Cyrus were poring over slides and pages of dusty volumes while Willow was setting up some sort of circle in the corner.

In the kitchen, Tara, Anya and Oz were occupying the wee ones making ice cream sundaes. So odd to have them here - the kids - when they were researching. But as Buffy did a mental inventory of the occupants of her house, she realized that there was no one left to take care of them, except…

A knock at the door brought her back into reality. Buffy snapped to attention from her place near the stairs and turned, still hanging on to Spike, answering the door.

Xander stood in front of her, River on one hip, sleeping soundly, and Will on the other, in much the same state. Emma stood next to Takina; both of them loaded with colourful, plastic, Disneyland bags.

Buffy stared for a second, not sure what to do. She wanted nothing more than to take her two kids and flee back upstairs to the comfort of her room and hold them until they could barely breathe. But, at the same time, she didn’t want them here for this. She didn’t want to burden them with any more fodder for psychotherapy in the future.

Thankfully, Spike took the lead, stepping in front of her and reaching out, taking Will from Xander’s arm.

“Thanks,” Xander answered, his voice unnaturally quiet. “Willow called and said I should be here. I didn’t know what to do with…”

Spike nodded, letting him in. “Seems that Glinda and the Wolf are setting up shop for toddlers in the basement.”

Xander shuffled in, Takina at his heels. Emma clung to Takina’s hand until she crossed the threshold, face troubled and sad. As soon as she was through, she let go, running to her mother and throwing her arms around Buffy’s waist, clinging for dear life.

Spike saw Buffy’s resolve waver and her eyes fill up. But she swallowed it, lowering to a crouch and smiling for their daughter. “Did you have fun in Disneyland?”

Emma nodded, letting Buffy brush the hair from her face. “We went to Toon Town. Will got scared of Mickey Mouse though.”

Buffy chuckled. “Gotta work on that.”

“What? Six foot rat’s a bit frightening to even someone closer to its size!” Spike defended, ruffling Emma’s hair.

Takina took River and headed to the kitchen, Spike and Will in tow, leaving Xander in the hall to face Buffy. He shuffled his weight from one side to the other, waiting. Not sure what to do with himself or his body. “How… how’s everything?”

Buffy averted her gaze to Xander. “Um… hard. Hard is a good word.”

Xander looked at Emma, not wanting to say too much. “What... what can I do, Buff?”

She sighed, standing, pulling Emma against her hip. “Honestly, I don’t know yet. “

As Spike and Takina reappeared in the hall, Giles’ voice called from the dining room. “Yes, I think we’re ready to get started. Buffy? Spike?”

The pair looked at each other and then down at their daughter. Spike leaned down to her eye level this time. “Think it’s time you went in with the rest, Mite.”

Emma shook her head, tears falling down her face. “No, daddy. I can help.”

Spike hazarded a glance to Buffy who was a little wide-eyed, shaking her head. He returned his gaze to Emma. “I don’t think that’s a good idea, Love. There are some bad… bad things are happening. And they aren’t about you. Don’t want to put you in the middle of it.”

Emma nodded. “They’re about her,” she continued, putting her hand on Buffy’s belly. Her fingers glowed at the touch. “And I am already in the middle. It’s me that they want. And it’s me that knows why.”

That took them a bit off guard.

Spike rocked back on his heels, righting himself and trying to avoid the fear in Buffy’s eyes. Giles had walked up behind his charge, Cyrus to his right. “Why’s that, Pet?”

“Coz I’m the one that beats them… in the end,” Emma answered succinctly. “And they don’t want that. Nobody likes to lose.”

Spike chuckled, nodding. “No. No one does.”

“And it’s not her fault,” Emma continued, patting Buffy’s abdomen. “And I don’t’ want her to die because of me.”

Tears started down Buffy’s face. Spike felt them long before he could see them, but he took a breath. Swallowed. Choked them back. “She’s not going to die, Mite. And it’s not because of you.”

Emma touched his face with the other hand, her little palms warm against his skin. “It is. And she can live because of me too.”

Spike’s eyes opened, staring into hers. Blue clashing against blue, will against will in a gentle struggle for right. “Emma, I don’t…”

Cyrus interrupted. “Spike, Buffy, if you don’t mind my opinion, she may be able to help. “

The blue glare of the father shot up to meet Cyrus. “Don’t need your opinion. She’s my daughter and…”

“And I’m theirs too,” Emma interrupted, her eyes flickering skyward. “Maybe they can help.”

“Not to mention,” Giles chimed in, his voice cautious and reverent, “she may be your child, Spike, but she is older than us all. Older than time.”

“She’s seen worse, is what you mean,” Buffy choked, her hand covering her daughter’s, pressed over the baby.

Giles nodded his agreement.

Spike looked at the bunch like they’d all lost their minds, but when Buffy looked down at him, nodding gently, he relented. “Don’t like this,” he grumbled, standing, straightening himself.

Emma looked up at him, stretching her arms towards him. For a moment, he let his eyes flicker closed, flashes of her in his arms on the day she was born, standing before him just now with bright, steel blue eyes. Every moment in between. But when he opened them, and she still stood there, arms stretched up towards him, he had to take her.

Once more into the breach.

Slowly, Spike leaned down, wrapping his arms underneath hers and picking her up, carrying her into the dining room with them. He may have to let her be there with them, but he wasn’t about to let her be alone. Out of reach.

Never out of reach.

To be contd.

Title: Balance (Chapter Twenty-two - Meant to Be)

Author: Nimue

Summary: The Scooby Gang has a meeting on what to do next, and some interesting information about good and evil comes out in the process.

Balance

The television flashed gray static silently at the edge of the table. Spike and Buffy had watched the tape of the message Willow had carried. The Prophesy. The room was silent, Buffy’s hand pressed over her mouth, eyes wide but still holding their strength. Spike held Emma against him, her head lolled to his shoulder.

She seemed sad, but not surprised.

It was a bit frightening when a seven-year-old was unsurprised by horrible things.

Spike took a breath to speak. Closed his mouth. Began again. Stopped.

“Do we know what to do to prevent it?” Buffy finally asked for him.

Wesley looked down at the piles of papers, written in his own hand, lying before him. From the looks of the size of the stack, he’d been working straight through the weekend. “I’d love to say that there was a pat answer, Buffy,” he began softly, “but there isn’t.”

“So, we just… let them do their worst then, is that it?” Spike finally contributed his voice gruff from anger and emotion. “No answer. They win. “

Giles looked at the Vampire for a long moment, wanting to be angry. Checking himself. Looking at Anya standing against the wall, fidgeting. Imagining what it would feel like for him to hear the same news. “I’d like to think the answer’s there, Spike. We just haven’t found it yet.”

Spike opened his mouth for another verbal assault when Willow interrupted, trying to smooth it over. “Well, I … I wouldn’t say that we… that we have nothing. I mean NO plan.”

“Right,” Wesley agreed, helping her out. “I’m sorry to have presented it as a hopeless cause. All I meant was, in most Prophesies, one can find a loophole. A glitch, like a spell missing a word. Something that takes away the potency. In this particular one, there seems to be no such glitch. In its simplicity, it has made itself seemingly foolproof. But that doesn’t mean there is no way to counteract the potency from the outside.”

“Yeah,” Willow agreed, her voice attempting brightness and failing. “I mean, there are other things we can try. You know. Sort of like you try to go for making peace first, but sometimes you can’t and you have to go to war and then you just… have to win.”

Xander smiled at his friend, shaking his head. Willow trying to make war analogies was like a butterfly talking about assault rifles. It just didn’t fit. “Well, then, what do we do?”

“As we don’t know what the loophole *is* in this Prophesy,” Wesley began, rubbing a hand over the three days of stubble on his chin, “I believe our best bet is to attack this on multiple fronts.”

Giles nodded, his fingers massaging his temples. “Yes. We need to try and look at each angle. Approach each source of potential help and watch each outlet of evil that could be involved in this. In other words…”

“Divide and conquer,” Buffy said quietly. “You need us to split up to do this.”

Dawn sat on the hutch, Brian at her side. They’d arrived about half way through the video, but she’d already known the basics of what was happening after verbally accosting Giles at home the morning after she’d visited Spike. “So, what do you need me to do?”

Giles sighed. “Dawn, I don’t know that there is much you can do. Although…”

“What?” Spike asked, his protective streak when it came to Summers girls coming out to play. “Not going to put her out there. Bad enough that Buffy and the Mite are a part of this.”

The Watcher shook his head. “I have no intention of endangering her, nor anyone else. Everyone’s participation in this is voluntary, as we have no clue how this Prophesy is coming to fruition. “

“Well, I’m in,” Anya chimed from across the room. The whole group turned to look at her, not really expecting her to be the first to jump in with support. “What? It’s a baby! I’m not letting them get babies. Even as a demon, that’s just… wrong.”

Spike chuckled. “Leave it to you to cut to the chase.”

“It is,” she grumbled.

Giles nodded in agreement. “And that is why we are going to do our best to prevent this, but Buffy…”

Spike’s eyes narrowed as the Watcher looked at his charge. Buffy stared at him, stalwart and solid, nodding.

“I know,” she answered.

“Know what?” Spike asked. “Don’t think I was in on this part of the plan.”

Buffy looked over at him. “Spike, we haven’t talked about anything, but I know what he’s going to say.”

“What’s that?” Spike asked, his agitation beginning to bubble to the surface. Emma shifted in his lap and faced him, her hands going to his face, calming him. She started to glow softly, her fingers cooling the boiling of his blood.

Buffy swallowed. “I know that if we try everything, Spike, *everything*, and we can’t find an answer, we’re going to have to… we’re going to have to talk more.”

Spike shook his head, Emma’s palms still on his cheeks. “No, Pet. There won’t be any more talk on that.”

“Spike,” Giles said softly.

Spike didn’t raise his voice. Didn’t move from Emma’s touch. Didn’t do anything but close his eyes and speak. “No. We find a way.”

The room fell silent for a long moment before the sound of Dawn’s feet swinging back and forth into the hutch became a heartbeat to the room. “I… I’m with him,” she said quietly.

Buffy nodded, biting her lip. “Okay then.” She looked to Giles. “What do we do?”

Wesley answered first. “As Willow suggested, we start with the basics. A meeting.”

“Meeting?” Xander asked. “Like executive board of Hell?”

Willow shrugged. “Well, kinda. Yeah. But it’s worth a try.”

“Actually, the executive boards of both sides,” Giles added. “And it is worth the effort.”

“How do you propose to pull this off?” Spike asked, settling Emma back towards the table and trying to bite back his anger.

“Invitations?” Willow said, shyly smiling. “I was thinking that we could contact the … well, Emma’s other family, with her help.”

“Oh no you don’t!” Spike snapped. “Not sending the tot anywhere.”

“Daddy,” Emma said softly, “I… I go there. A lot. It’s safe.”

Buffy and Spike looked at her, astonished. She left? Went somewhere? And they didn’t even know? How? When?

Questions left for later.

“I hadn’t intended to allow her to go herself,” Cyrus continued. “I am an emissary. I will escort her. I assure you, this is the safest part of any of it, as nothing can harm her in her travels above. A move like that, even if I believe the forces of evil stupid enough to try it, would be an outward declaration of war not only against our Queen, but all of the Queens of Heaven. It would give them just cause to upset the balance of good and evil.”

“Isn’t that what we’re going for here?” Buffy asked, cocking her head. “I mean, the whole destruction of evil? Especially the evil doing this?”

Cyrus sighed, nodding. “It is. But, alas, it doesn’t quite work like that, Buffy. Were the Queens to intervene now, when the battle is in this plane rather than an assault on their own, it would change the context of reality.”

“How so?” Spike asked, cocking an eyebrow. Riling the Queens up sounded like a good way to solve this once and for all.

“Well, first of all, as we said, it would tip the balance of good and evil. And as much as we are forces to fight evil - keep its numbers down on this level of reality - we cannot go without it. It is part of the fabric of existence on this plane.” He sighed, looking at the blank faces in the room. The concept of total annihilation of evil is what these people had based their lives upon. Telling them that it was not possible was not going to make him the most popular man at the party.

“This is not an ethereal plane. Not a Heavenly world,” Cyrus began again. “It is a lower realm. Not like the Hell dimensions, but not like the Heavens either. It’s a combination of both. True that this realm needs nowhere near as much evil as it does good to function; far less than it has, to be honest; but it needs *some*, or it becomes… extinct. The fabric crumples. I certainly am not purporting that this is good or bad. It is not mine to judge. Merely law. That in a lower realm, there must be evil or there can be no good. There can be … nothing.”

“Wouldn’t it just become all Heavenish without it?” Buffy asked, complete confusion on her face.

“In theory,” Cyrus answered. “But humans are not heavenly beings. Mortals, even semi-mortals, are imperfect. Made up mostly of good, but there is evil in all. It is just overcome by the good of most.”

Wesley and Giles seemed to be the first to wrap their minds around the concept and to guess the next logical next step in the argument. Wesley chanced putting it to words.

“Total annihilation of evil would also preclude demons from this reality,” the youngest Watcher said softly. “Of all sorts, and regardless of their current disposition.”

Cyrus nodded, his eyes flitting to Spike. To Anya. Giles looked down. His son was part demon. Takina. Oz and his two children.

Half of the occupants of the room would be summarily obliterated were the balance to be destroyed. Just by the nature of their being, not by the content of who they had become.

Buffy looked at Spike. Thought of Will. Of the child inside of her. Gone. Were she to succeed in what she’d always thought of as her mission, she’d be destroying her own, as well as the ones who were destroying those that she was sworn to protect. Her eyes closed. Another thing to try and wrap her mind around.

“So, we must keep the balance,” Cyrus completed softly. “Lest the other side have no grip on this world. They will not chance that to harm Emma in her travels.”

Spike nodded, the concept of who he really was… Vampire…. Demon… hitting him smack in the face for the first time in a very long time. “You’ll stay with her?”

Cyrus nodded. “She is my charge as well as my friend, Spike.”

“What about the other side?” Buffy asked.

“That’s where I come in,” Willow replied. “I am thinking that I can send them a message without having to go there. We could probably do it to the good side too, but I don’t know if I have enough to do both before tomorrow night.”

“Tomorrow?” Buffy asked, eyes widening once again. “Tomorrow?”

Giles nodded. “Yes, Buffy. We need to act as soon as possible. Tomorrow is a fortuitous night, astrologically. So tomorrow it will be.”

“Where?” Spike asked, his brow furrowed.

“Here,” Wesley answered. “It is the most central location, not to mention that it’s the only place that we can set everything up in time. There is no way that we can risk doing it over the opening of the Hellmouth, nor could we remove all of the rubble in time.”

That made Spike chuckle. “Right then. Looks like we’re entertaining, Pet.”

Buffy shook her head. “Then what? I mean, there has to be a plan B.”

Giles nodded. “Several, actually.” He stood, beginning to pace as if walking helped his brain function at this point. “Regardless of what truces we make, we cannot trust that the darker forces will abide by them. So we will have to watch them. Not only that, but we will be well served to follow their… associates… on this plane.”

“Okay, how?” Xander asked, his hands clasped nervously in front of him on the table. This is usually the part that spelled tortuous disaster.

“This is where the divide and conquer part comes in, right?” Buffy contributed.

Giles nodded. “A demon will need to go across, with Dawn’s help, to the Hell dimension involved. The Red Mansion.”

A shudder went through both Buffy and Spike, remembering the treatment they’d both received at the hands of Luke. Giles caught it and countered it.

“Buffy, for obvious reasons, I will not allow you to go. And Spike… you’ll be needed here.”

“I’ll go,” Anya said quietly, again garnering the attention of the rest of the group.

“You most certainly will *not*,” Giles blurted, his own protectiveness coming out.

“Who better?” Anya replied, picking up a carrot stick and munching quietly. “I mean, I’ve been there Rupert. I know the layout. I can keep an eye on them and not get lost. Besides, we know I can cross and we know that Willow can do that invisibility thing so I can’t be seen.”

Willow nodded. “That one’s easy.”

“And Dawn can let me in,” the demon concluded, taking another bite of the carrot. “So, it really is the only logical choice.”

Giles turned red with anger. “You have other things to consider,” he snapped. “Your son for example. And…”

“All of us have other things to consider,” she said quietly, walking towards him, wrapping her arms around his neck. “And I’m leaving my son in the most capable hands of anyone I know. And you’re good with those hands, too.”

The Watcher blushed as she kissed his cheek. Buffy and Dawn both eww’d quietly and rolled their eyes.

“I don’t…” Giles wavered.

“You don’t have a choice. Just get me back and give me many orgasmic rewards.”

“And on that note,” Xander interrupted.

“S’very… brave of you, Pet,” Spike said quietly, nodding his thanks to Anya.

“Don’t worry,” she said brightly. “You’ll owe me too.”

Buffy and Giles both shot glances at the demon.

“What? In a totally non-orgasmic kind of way,” Anya corrected, trying to get the evil glare away from her. Buffy and her Watcher both relaxed, nodding.

“What else?” Buffy asked. “What do we do?”

“Well, we really won’t know until we see how this meeting tomorrow goes,” Wesley answered. “We’ll have a better idea of how to approach this once we find out what we’re dealing with.”

“I’d agree,” Cyrus contributed. “I think that the Queen of the Sky will have a good idea of what Luke and his company will do next once she’s seen what he’s up to as well.”

“So we wait,” Spike grumbled, frustrated.

Giles, Wesley and Cyrus nodded. “We wait,” Giles finally said. “In the meantime, Cyrus, do you want to take Emma and…?”

Cyrus nodded, walking towards Spike, who instinctively tightened his grip around her. “Now?”

“It’s only polite to give as much warning as possible,” Cyrus responded, stooping down in front of them and taking Emma’s hand. “Do you mind, my dear?”

Emma shook her head, smiling brightly. “Nope.” She turned her gaze to her father. “I’ll be okay, daddy. It’s just… you’ve seen it. It’s not scary.”

“Maybe for you, Mite,” Spike answered, leaning down to kiss the tip of her nose, then turning to Cyrus “If you let a hair on her head…”

“I assure you,” Cyrus comforted, patting Spike’s shoulder and taking the little girl’s hand. Emma hopped from her father’s lap and let herself be led over to Buffy. She leaned up, kissing her mother’s cheek, then headed upstairs, Cyrus at her heels.

“Where does she go? How does she get there?” Buffy asked Giles as the group began to get up, moving around.

“Apparently,” Giles asked, “she can go at any time from anywhere. But she chooses her room because the fairies stay behind to protect the gateway.”

“The gateway?” Spike asked.

“Moving from one dimension to another, no matter how well versed one is, creates a temporary gateway. If she chooses to do it, she leaves the fairies behind to make sure nothing enters or leaves other than herself. She told Cyrus that she doesn’t want anything bad to come after Will,” Giles responded. “I think that, an ancient being or not, her parents are still indestructible heroes to her.”

“Fairly,” Spike agreed, smiling slightly and standing from his chair. Buffy got up as well and began to move towards him.

“Spike?” Giles asked, before the two had reached each other.

Spike turned his head, acknowledging the Watcher. “Yeah?”

“Would you mind if we had a word in private?”

Spike raised an eyebrow, but saw the seriousness in Giles’s countenance. “Right,” he agreed, softly, reaching out to Buffy and pulling her in for a quick kiss. “Guess I’ve got to go entertain daddy dearest.”

Buffy slapped his arm playfully. “I’m sure it’s nothing. Or at least, nothing more apocalyptic, or he’d have me there too.”

Spike nodded. “Be back, Pet. “Another quick kiss to her nose.

“Spike?” Giles called from the front door.

“All right. Keep your pants on.”

Spike squeezed Buffy’s hand and headed off out the door.

To be contd.

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