Title: Let’s Brick (Chapter Twenty-three - Meant to Be)

Author: Nimue

Rating: PG-13

Pairing: Spike/Buffy (Most major characters included)

Feedback: Yes, please

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: Willow and Wesley plan the spell to deliver the invitation to Luke. Giles and Spike have a conversation that neither is particularly comfortable with.

Willow sat in the corner of the now empty dining room, setting candles around her in a small circle. Everyone had gone to do their own part. Cyrus and Emma were upstairs, hopefully convening with their little segment of The Powers That Be. Takina, Buffy, Dawn, Brian and Xander had gone downstairs to play with the kids. Giles had taken Spike outside for "the talk". No one was left to help her.

"Is there… could I be of assistance in any way?" A soft, low voice came from the doorway to the kitchen.

The Witch looked up and saw Wesley standing, his body framed by the glow of the kitchen lights. He looked so different. Almost as if he was a different person.

Then again, he probably was. They all were by now.

"I’m not… I haven’t quite honed my toddler minding skills, and I doubt seriously that Spike would hear Giles out were I present, and my invitation to the meeting with the Queen… well, I guess it was never delivered." A small smile broke on stubble covered cheeks.

Willow returned the smile softly. "How’s your magic? Oh, and normal person answer, not Watcher-speak."

Wesley took a step closer, coming into the dark dining room. "I’m not a Watcher anymore, Willow."

She paused, thought for a moment, opened her mouth to speak. She wasn’t sure if that was a good or a bad thing for Mr. Wyndam-Price. But either way, it didn’t much matter. She liked who he’d become, or rather who he was becoming. He was more… real.

A laugh. "Oh, I know. But, you know, once you learn the Watcher dialect, it’s mighty hard to get rid of."

Again, Wesley smiled. "To answer your question, I’m not particularly powerful, but I’ve practiced my focus and concentration, and am fairly good at augmenting energies."

"And you speak Latin, which is of the good," she mused in return. "Sure, you can help. Not doing much. Just basically taking the invite," she held up a brick with a note tied around it, "and dropping it off."

A devious little grin took the place of Wesley’s nervous smile. "You’re going to throw a rock through the window of La Maison Rouge?"

"A magical one," Willow answered with a little head nod. "You know. For effect."

"Right," Wesley joked, standing just outside the circle. "May I?"

"Come on in and join the party," Willow returned, scooching back in the circle to make room for Wesley. "The only thing I need you to do is concentrate on the brick. I can raise it and drop it through the planes of existence, but if someone else can hold it up until it’s time… you know, with the magic, not the hands."

"A simple levitation spell," Wesley answered, nodding at the basic, effective method she’d chosen.

"Pretty much," Willow answered. "I levitate it. You hold it there. I open a channel into the big old red house, you let go."

A chuckle escaped from Wesley’s lips. "And I was thinking of ripping holes in dimensional walls and the like."

"Amateur," the Witch answered, playfully batting at Wesley’s shoulder. "Nah, there’s always an easy way. I don’t usually find it either, but this time, I did."

She reached her hands forward, closing her eyes. "Ready?"

"I am," he answered, placing his hands atop hers.

"Then let’s rock. Or brick."

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

Giles leaned up against the porch railing, watching Spike sprawled bonelessly on the chair swing. The Vampire looked so relaxed, but Giles knew that, inside, he was wound tighter than piano wire.

This would not be an easy conversation.

"So, what’s so important that we need to go away from the galloping hordes?" Spike asked, the only sign of his true mindset being the continuous jiggle of one, booted foot on the otherwise calm body.

Giles took a breath. "It’s not that it’s more important… just a bit… sensitive." The Watcher dug in his coat pocket, producing a pack of cigarettes and tapping one out of the pack.

Spike sat up, leaning forward, elbows on his knees. "Must be for you to break out the cancer sticks and risk the wrath of Vengeance."

A chuckle before Giles poked the smoke into the corner of his mouth, flicking open a worn, metal Zippo and lighting the cigarette with practiced smoothness. He offered the pack to Spike who shook his head once.

Rather than put the pack away, Giles set it on the porch rail next to him.

"Spike, Wesley, Willow and I talked at length about how to combat this latest threat…" He took a long draw from the cigarette, blowing smoke out in a lazy stream. "We need to cover all fronts."

Spike nodded. "And I’d agree." He watched Giles for a moment, trying to read the Watcher and not getting very far past ‘this isn’t good’. "What is it that you want to say, Rupert? We can pussy –foot around all night, but it won’t solve anything. Should know by now I’m a man of action…"

"Spike," Giles interrupted. "It’s a bit more controversial than that."

The Vampire raised an eyebrow, his attention garnered. "Listening."

Another long drag and Giles pushed himself up to sit on the porch railing. "We have reason to believe that Luke is behind this…"

"Could have told you that git’d be involved," Spike contributed, shutting up quickly as Giles shot him an authoritative look.

"Yes, but if you don’t let me finish, we continue to pussy-foot," the Watcher snapped, his voice full of annoyance.

Spike nodded, submitting this once. It was his baby’s future on the line. The least he could do was swallow his remarks.

"As I was saying," Giles continued. "We also think he has an accomplice. From the scrolls and from indications in other texts that we have uncovered since."

Spike fidgeted, his hands clenching and unclenching in his lap. "Any idea who?"

Giles nodded, taking another drag. "We believe it to be Gwydion."

That, Spike hadn’t expected. I mean, he didn’t really think that the monster had disappeared when he had been forced to kill what was left of his father. Or when he and Buffy had gone against a possessed version of her ex. But Gwydion was in a different league than Luke.

Luke was the gnat of the Hell Gods. The kind that’d annoy you into oblivion, but really didn’t carry enough bite on his own to pull off anything too dimension shattering – like removing the Peacemaker from the hands of the One.

Gwydion, on the other hand, was smart, very evil, and not about to take no for an answer. That much Spike had learned in the battle against his father. That concept was enough to scare him. More than he had already been afraid.

Spike leaned forward, gesturing at the pack of cigarettes that Giles had left on the railing. Giles nodded, tossing it to him, followed quickly by the lighter. "Right then, what do you need me to do?" The lighter flicked. The cigarette glowed. Spike leaned back in the swing, tossing the pack back to Giles.

"We need intelligence on him. His weaknesses," Giles answered, trying to keep his tone even. "He hadn’t really made his presence known, or at least identifiable, prior to the advent of the One, so there is very little known about his strengths and weaknesses."

"Ruthless bastard is a start," Spike countered, taking a long pull and blowing the smoke out in a strong, steady stream.

Giles nodded. "True, but we need specifics."

"How?" Spike asked. "If you’re right, then he’s holed up in the big red house with his new mate Luke and I’ve got no free pass."

The Watcher closed his eyes and steeled himself. This was the part that Spike wasn’t going to like and there was no point in dragging it out any longer.

"Spike, he had… associates… while he was in this dimension. Close ones." He stared at Spike, hoping he wouldn’t have to say it. "Mutual ones."

A long, silent moment. Spike’s mind reeling. A familiar voice purring "daddy" at the monster who’d taken his father. That same voice finding him in a dark crypt, dying.

"Dru." It was a quiet admission of defeat.

Giles nodded. "Drusilla knows him, Spike. She knows what his strengths are. His weaknesses. She knows. "

Spike closed his eyes, leaning back against the wood of the swing. "And you want me to find her. Get it out of her. That it?"

Again, the Watcher nodded. "We need to know how to neutralize him if we cannot conquer."

"Don’t know if I can do it, Rupert. Don’t know if she’ll even talk to me. Don’t know if I can understand *her*. Don’t … don’t want to leave Buffy…" A pause while he thought on that one. "You know Buffy’s *not* going to be all puppies and Christmas ‘bout this idea, don’t you?"

"I’ll explain it to her, Spike. She trusts you. And she’d do whatever it takes to save her child, never mind existence as we know it," Giles answered, stubbing out the cigarette and sliding the filter into his pocket.

Spike nodded. "No one else? Like, can’t we dig up the Marquis de Sade or something? That’d probably be easier."

The Watcher chuckled. "This is the best chance we have to get any inside information on Gwydion. "

A deep sigh from the Vampire. "Don’t even know where to find her, mate."

Before Giles answered, he proffered another cigarette from the pack, lighting it and tossing the pack to Spike. "I’ve located her."

Spike’s eyes went wide. He’d spent years looking for Dru in the past. But the Watcher could find her in a weekend? "How? Where?"

"Funny, really," Giles answered, another plume of smoke escaping his lips. "I put in a call to Angel…"

"ANGEL?" Spike nearly screamed, jumping from the seat and lunging towards the Watcher. "You call the bloody poof and let him know how inadequately I can handle my own affairs and… I should bloody well tear your head off for that…"

"Spike, please," Giles cautioned, pushing the advance away with one hand. "Theatrics won’t help and I’ve no doubt that you’ve no intention of ripping my head off my neck. So, please, let’s continue this civilly."

A small growl escaped Spike’s lips as he retreated, still standing, taking a nervous drag from his smoke. "Fine then. What did Peaches have to say?"

"To correct you, if I might, I did *not* tell him of any inadequacy, as I do not find one in the way you protect your own." It was a simple statement, but Giles meant it. Spike stopped, looked at the man, nodded his respect.

"What I *did* tell him was that we had a situation in Sunnydale relating to Buffy and her family and that we required his assistance. He offered to drive up, but I advised him that was unnecessary. That what we need from him is information. I asked him about Drusilla and, oddly enough, she’d been in LA recently. He inquired around and found that she was in hiding in a mission not far from San Diego, alone."

"Alone?" Spike asked. "Not like Dru to be alone."

Giles nodded. "Apparently, her association with Gwydion was not the first, nor the last, relationship of hers that went horribly wrong."

A pang of guilt went through Spike. Even if she was completely bonkers, and it was she who had taken his life and betrayed him repeatedly, he had always felt a certain responsibility for protecting her. Irrational, maybe, but real.

"She all right then?" Spike asked, extinguishing one cigarette and lighting another.

Giles nodded. "Once Angel found her, he hired someone to keep an eye on her, both for our purposes and for…"

"Bloody well should. That bastard’s fault that she’s…" Spike blurted, not feeling love for her, but a sort of … sorrow.

"Well, he said that he’d make sure she stayed there, and was taken care of. But I think it’s safe to say that you have the best chance of extracting any information she may have, and possibly the only chance of deciphering it," Giles continued, chuckling slightly.

Spike shook his head. "Dunno. Bit rusty in the area of sack-of-hammers speak."

"The best chance," Giles repeated. "And when Angel offered to see what he and the rest of his crew could dig up, I did accept, because like it or not, any information, from any source, that will help us with … this… is welcome. "

"It is," Spike said, taking another drag. "But Buffy’s not going to like this idea. "

"If you like, I’ll talk to her." The look on the Watcher’s face showed clearly that he was just as afraid of the task.

"No. I’ll tell her." Another puff. "When am I supposed to leave?"

"After the meeting," the Watcher answered, stubbing out his second cigarette and stowing the pack back inside of his jacket. "So, then, am I to assume you will do it?"

Spike closed his eyes. Took a long draw. Let his head fall back. Was there even a choice? "Yeah. I’ll go."

To be contd.

 

 

Title: Plan B (Chapter Twenty-four - Meant to Be)

Author: Nimue

Rating: PG-13

Pairing: Spike/Buffy (Most major characters included)

Feedback: Yes, please

Summary: Spike tells Buffy of her Watcher’s Plan B. They have one last night alone together. How will they spend it?

Plan B

"So," Buffy said, walking onto the back porch and shutting the door behind her. The kids were now properly in their beds, their guests all gone and just she and Spike still awake in the wee hours of the morning. "Guess we’re having a shindig tomorrow."

Spike took another drag of his cigarette. Giles had left the pack when he and Anya took their leave. The Watcher said it was to save himself from the wrath of his lady. Spike knew it was because Giles thought he might need one or two after this conversation with Buffy. And maybe one before. And during. Surely she was likely to be more upset about what he had to say than the temporary revival of a nasty habit.

"Seems we are, Pet," Spike answered, his back to her, standing on the top step and looking out over the yard like a king surveying his lands. He could feel the tension knotting his shoulders. Desperately, he wanted Buffy to just… hold him and make this stop. Selfish, really, he thought. But what he wanted nonetheless.

Alas, there was work to be done. Seems the One had many benefits, but having things come easily did not seem to be among them.

"Back to the old lung strangling?" Buffy nagged half heartedly, waving her hand in front of her face in an over-dramatic gesture. She walked slowly to his side, her tennis shoes quiet against the wood of the deck. "You know, you actually *need* those lungs now."

He nodded, not saying anything, but stubbing the butt out on the porch railing and shoving the filter into the pocket of his jeans. Wasn’t worth creating something stupid to bicker about when he knew that they had plenty of bigger thorns to prickle their sides. "Sorry, Love. Some habits…"

Buffy nodded, surprisingly unwilling to engage in the normal banter on the subject, and leaned her head against his shoulder. "Just… I have enough to worry about without a sick Vampire, okay?"

Again Spike nodded, letting his head fall on top of hers and taking a breath of fresh air. He wanted to stay like this for a while. Quiet. With the voices in his head and the thoughts weighing down his mind all banished by her scent and the feel of her soft, golden hair under his cheek.

Alas, there wasn’t any more time to rest.

"We need to talk, Buffy."

She took a deep breath, not wanting to leave the peace of the moment, but knowing something was coming to disturb it. She had known since Giles had whisked Spike away from the meeting. It was not of the normal when her Watcher took her husband aside, and usually spelled ‘Not Good" with a capital N… and a capital G. She’d been waiting for the aftermath ever since, torn between intense curiosity and complete and utter dread.

"I kinda thought," she resigned herself to saying.

Spike chuckled humourlessly, pushing himself away from her and taking a step down. He couldn’t do this in the comfort of her embrace. It seemed… wrong. So, down the step. Turning to face her.

A breath. And then another. His mouth opening, thinking the better of it, and closing again. Spike was sure he looked like a large mouthed guppy landed outside its bowl.

"Something you’re not gonna like much, Pet." It was the only way he could think of to begin. Truth. There was nothing much about this she would like, except the chance it may give them to protect their child. Both he and Giles were betting that that shot was going to be worth a whole lot more to her than the rest.

"Kinda figured that too," Buffy answered, sighing and lowering herself to sit on the top step. She looked up at him with shockingly docile eyes, considering she had to feel the torment in his mind. Like a lamb being led willingly to slaughter, trusting that the leader would bow out just in time and rescue her. A look, a feeling that Spike was not used to relating to in his love.

"You know," Buffy began again, "what with the Watcher who suddenly goes all non-talky to me and has a little private smoking conference with his once sworn enemy? I figured it couldn’t be something that I’d be jumping for joy about. You know, like a big shoe shopping excursion or something?" A quirky, nervous smile twitched at the corner of her pretty coral mouth. Spike tried to return it, knowing that she was at least attempting to make this easier. But he had a feeling that the attempts would soon stop.

Again, Spike let out a nervous chuckle. "Right then, you found us out. Our plan to send you to Manolo Blahnik has been foiled by footwear demons and we can no longer offer you a buffet of sandals for your choosing."

Buffy smiled for real now. "You know Blahnik? This is the happiest moment of my *life*!" She threw her arms into the air in worship of the skies above, making Spike roll his eyes and crave another cigarette. It was almost tortuous that she was being so good hearted about this, thus far.

Maybe, somewhere, he thought, I want to be punished for what I’m about to do.

Spike’s smile faded at that thought, taking Buffy’s grin with him. He fiddled in his pocket, fingering the pack of cigarettes and wanting one like he hadn’t for years. Damned human bodies with their addictions. "’Fraid it’s not quite that simple, Pet."

"I know," she answered, sighing and letting her arms drop back to her lap, her hands clasping in front of her. "So, what was it?"

Spike fidgeted, that familiar feeling of dread creeping into his chest and spreading. "Watcher wanted to try and talk me into something, is all," he finally said quietly.

Again, she sighed. "I have a feeling that there’s a little more to it than that," Buffy stated flatly. "Did he win? Because he’s really good at it…"

He nodded once, and then trained his eyes to the sky before muttering the next sentence. . "Less you can honestly tell me that you think it’s a bad idea for reasons other than... it’s a bad idea."

Looking at her was not even part of Spike’s equation. The last thing he wanted was to see her face as he told her the plan. And deep down he *wanted* her to think of a reason that this was a bad idea, other than the aforementioned, and give him a way to stay by her side and fight.

"Okay, now you’re beginning to talk like me, so I know something’s up," Buffy commented, reaching out and taking his fidgeting hand from his pocket, wrapping it with her own. He lowered to a crouch in front of her, trying to stare at a spot on the side of the house instead of looking into those drowning green eyes. "So, are you going to tell me or are you going to force Giles to break his Slayer’s heart?"

A pang ripped through Spike. She couldn’t know. Could she? Would this break her heart? It wasn’t meant to. Nothing romantic about it, or at least that’s what he desperately hoped. Wouldn’t she do anything to save their littlest? Wouldn’t she expect him to? Not at the expense of her heart. Or even at its expense?

Spike was too torn for words. He closed his eyes. Took a breath. Opened his mouth. Closed it. Opened his eyes. Another breath. Back to being a guppy.

"Uh, sometime soon would be good? Me and junior the third are getting kinda tired," Buffy continued, trying to be light hearted, but feeling the dread begin to knot in the pit of her stomach and spreading rapidly to her every limb, weighing her down with invisible cinder blocks and pulling her heart to somewhere near her knees.

"Right. Best just get to the point," Spike began again, holding onto her hand like a life preserver and trying to at least pretend to be looking at her face. "Rupert’s not so sure about the outcome of this meeting tomorrow. Thinks that even if the blokes all sit down and agree someone’s likely to welch. Wants to make sure we have the bases covered, so he asked me… "Spike took another breath, searching for the easiest way to say the words. "He wants me to talk to some of Gwydion’s former associates."

Buffy thought for a moment, her brow furrowed in confusion and frustration. . "Spike? Why should this be upsetting me? I mean, sounds like a good idea, other than the fact that it probably involves you being away, which wasn’t on my top zillion things I want right now, but… it’s just away. Right?"

"It does involve that." Spike answered, "Though not far, and hopefully, not long."

The creases in her brow deepened as she struggled to understand why this plan should be carrying the weight of the dread pulling her down, and why Spike was having so much trouble in the telling. Something told her, loud and clear, that she should be angry, or hurt, or both. Maybe it was the look on Spike’s face – the combination of fear and anxiety with a little bit of ‘I’m sorry’, or the covert meeting between her husband and her Watcher – but something indicated severe emotion was in order. Something she couldn’t find in what he was saying.

Best to get to the point, eh? "So, what aren’t you telling me?" She finally asked.

‘Bugger’, Spike thought. ‘Why do I always get to be the bringer of bad news? Maybe she won’t take it wrong.’ He hazarded a glance at her face. She’d been through too much not to know something was up, and she’d been hurt too many times before they’d been joined not to have a little of a jealous streak in her. It was in her eyes. She knew it was coming.

The razor blade in the apple.

His inner voice corrected his idea that maybe she would take it well, as he read the look on her face that was preemptively shifting from confusion to anger. ‘Right. She’s Buffy. A pregnant Buffy. Not good when you’re ‘bout to tell her that you’re off to find your ex.’

"Spike?" Now she was annoyed at just the wait.

A long sigh. More of his now patented guppy impersonation. "Right then. One of Gwydion’s closest associates in this dimension, while he was parading round in my father’s skin, was… It was Dru, okay? And Rupert thinks it best we get as much information as we can on the bastard so we can fight him, and he asked me to talk to Drusilla because he thinks it most likely that I’d be able to get information out of her, and understand it if I did and…"

Buffy’s eyes flared. "Drusilla?" An unnaturally long pause. "Like as in your not so stable sire, not to mention, oh, *lover* for a century?"

Again, she fell quiet, waiting for his words before she continued, anger and hurt gnawing at the back of her mind. Not to mention, the stab of jealousy and the grinding fear that maybe, just maybe, he’d fall back in love with her and never come home.

Spike looked at her, reading her thoughts, not through some special connection, but just as one wounded lover to another. "Yes, Love, Dru. Can’t deny that she turned me. Can’t deny that we… were. But she never owned my heart. Never shared my soul."

Buffy crossed her arms defensively over her chest, her nostrils flaring, looking all the world, to Spike, like Emma about to throw a tantrum. However, this wasn’t Emma and not (at least most of the time) so easy to quell. This was his *mate*. Truly, his other half. And hurting her heart, for Spike, was like stabbing himself in the gut.

After a long moment, Buffy spoke, still clutching her arms around herself white knuckled, as if trying to hold herself together. "And Giles thought this up?"

Spike nodded once, almost afraid to speak. But he couldn’t let the Watcher take all the blame. Spike had thought, in the end, it was a useful plan, if not a good idea... "But I agreed."

Buffy sat still for what seemed an eternity, her eyes darting between the stars above and the terrified face just below her on the steps. Internally, she was raging, with her rational mind grasping for purchase on the slippery slope of her hormonally aggravated emotions. The little voice of reason inside of her mind *screamed* that Giles would *never* have come up with a plan that would hurt Buffy. Not on purpose. And he’d never actually try to put it into action unless he thought, with all his Watchery mind, that it was worth the upset. Especially, since Giles was extremely protective of her condition, even when it wasn’t being threatened by an ancient force of Darkness.

And then there was Spike.

That other voice, the emotional one, tore into her. A century. A frigging hundred *years* they were together. He had to have loved her. Whether or not he loved her more or less was sort of moot. He’d loved her enough to stay with her for a hundred years.

Still, the reasonable voice stated very calmly, a hundred years was how long he had to wait for you.

Buffy looked at Spike again. His face was a cross between terrified and heartbroken. Not gleefully looking forward to a tumble with his ex. On the contrary, she could feel the weight of dread in him, greater than what was weighing her down. And it hadn’t gone away when he had told her the plan. It wasn’t the dread of the secret, but the dread of the action.

"And do you think you can get information from her? I mean, useful information? Not like… what colour the emperor’s clothes are or anything…," Buffy asked tentatively, not yet sure that she wanted to give in to the rational just yet.

A nervous laugh escaped the Vampire’s lips. "Honestly, Pet, I don’t know. I never presumed to understand her, as she truly is sack of hammers. But Giles knows, I know, that I’m probably the one she’s most likely to talk to… and I’m the one who has the best chance of sussing out what she’s saying."

The Slayer nodded, her arms tightening around herself. The rational part of her understood what he’d said and why he’d agreed. But still, there was that withering emotional bit screaming as she tried to force it down. That tinge of jealousy at their hundred years together. Buffy shifted nervously on the step, eyes flitting away from Spike. "Do you think you…? Spike... I mean, it’s important that we know as much as we can, but do you think… Will you have to… *Would you*…?"

Spike quirked an eyebrow, looking up at her face, utterly confused at her question. She wouldn’t return his gaze; only stare out at the sky blankly. She wasn’t going to continue, but obviously it was important. "Would I what, Pet?"

Another sigh. She still wouldn’t look at him and her knuckles were white where they clutched the backs of her arms in a steely hug. Slowly, her eyes sunk closed and she forced out the words. "Sleep with her, Spike? Have sex. Be inside of her again. Do you think that you’ll have to…? I mean… if it was going to save our baby and… I know I need to be telling you to do anything, *anything* to save her, and really, that’s what I want. Please know that. But please, Spike, don’t make me say it. Know it, but…"

Spike watched her fight off both tears and anger, trying to do what was best for their child. He hadn’t even thought of it. In reality, he was more worried about having to get her fed and talk her down from the clouds. Sex with her hadn’t really crossed his mind much, though in a massive leap of wisdom, he sorted that that was why Rupert and he were both so afraid of this conversation. Not because Spike would ever want that again. Didn’t want anything to do with Dru in that regard. But because *Buffy* would assume that the temptation would be there. *She* would worry that he’d do it to save their child. Worse yet, she’d almost want Spike to do it if it would help them. And that killed her. That was what the hard part of this equation had always been.

And to think, Spike mused, if anything, all he felt for her now was a distant love, like one has for their first, but not their greatest.

Like he knew she had somewhere for Angel.

"Buffy," Spike said softly, his thumb tracing circles on the palm of her hand. "I think it’s safe to say that I don’t think it will come to that." He paused, trying to think of how to continue. "And it’s not what I want."

Silvery tears threatened to spill from her eyes, perched in the corners like raindrops from Heaven. "If it does… I mean… if she knows something, Spike, and she can tell us how to save… you should." Buffy’s face was set in stone now. Unreadable. Just staring out at the stars, hoping for an answer there. But her eyes gave her away.

"Love, I don’t want…"

"Do you still love her?" Buffy asked suddenly, her gaze finally settling on him and gripping him like a steel vise.

"What?" Spike asked, startled. He shook his head to clear it, wondering if she’d asked him what she’d just asked him.

"Love. Her." Buffy repeated, her fingernails digging half moons into the backs of her arms as she tightened her hold on herself...

A flash of fury burned in Spike’s eyes. "No! How can you ask me that?"

That much escaped before he forced the anger back; trying to remember the amount of stress they were both under. And that he’d just dropped yet another heap onto the pile. Slowly, he closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. How would he feel if she’d told him she’d have to run off to Angel all alone to get information by any means possible?

Now, there was some perspective. He was currently amazed that he was still breathing.

His eyes flickered open, softer now. "No," he answered again gently. "Did once. But nothing like… S’nothing like us, Love." Spike shifted, pulling her hands from their vise grip on her arms and taking them in his own. "I love you, Buffy. Only you. Always have, somewhere. Always will." His hand rose to her cheek, wiping away one of the tears that had finally escaped with a soft stroke of his thumb.

A hesitant little smile twitched the corners of her mouth. Her brave face was coming, which broke his heart every time he saw it, and he did quite often with all the times she’d laid down what she wanted in order to make the World a little better. . "Then you do what you have to do to save us, okay?"

Spike nodded softly, caressing her cheek. "I plan on just trying to talk with her, Love. S’what Dru and I did most of the time. She talked. I listened. I talked. She listened. Bit like us, 'cept it made even less sense."

Buffy chuckled, knowing better, but appreciating his effort to ease her mind. As much as the thought of her love even being near Drusilla again pained her, losing his body for a night would be worth saving their child. If it came to that. Which she really hoped it didn’t.

One night.

But she had his heart for eternity.

If it came to it…

"Spike?"

"Yeah, Pet."

"Promise me you love me."

A small smile broke across his tired features. "I promise you, Pet. I love you Always."

"Always?"

"Everyday."

Buffy finally reached out, putting her arms over his shoulders and pulling him in for a soft, chaste, kiss. "I’d really, really like to go to bed."

"In that case," Spike answered, turning sideways and scooping her up from the steps, carrying her back into the house. Back to their somewhat normal lives.

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

Spike made his way up the stairs to their bedroom, Buffy still in his arms, their lips now meeting in urgent need, teeth clashing, moans and whimpers escaping in the split seconds left for breath. He was going to prove it, dammit. Prove to her that there was no one else for him *ever*. Not before, not since, not after. Not *ever*.

It was Buffy. Always Buffy.

"Spike," she whimpered between kisses, her one hand playing mercilessly with the zipper of his jeans. Jeans that were suddenly several sizes too small in the area of her hand. Her nails scratched along the back of his neck. She was going to show him where he belonged. Who he belonged to.

"God, Buffy," Spike whispered, his mouth still pressed to hers. "Always yours, Pet. Always."

He nudged open the door of their room open with the toe of his boot and began into the darkness when he stopped dead in his tracks. Buffy, confused that the time in which she was normally tossed onto the mattress and ravaged in an oh-so-pleasant sort of way had not come to pass, stopped her ministrations and looked up at his face.

Spike’s eyes were wide and confused both with desire and with the scene.

She followed his gaze to their king sized bed and saw both Emma and Will curled in the center, foreheads pressed against each other, sleeping as soundly as kittens in a basket.

Spike tried to reel in his lust- addled mind and force other parts of his anatomy into behaving as well. "Did you bring the tots in, Pet?"

Buffy shook her head, still panting. "No. You?"
 

"No," Spike answered, his voice breathy, the little devil perched cartoonishly on his shoulder desperately wanting to recapture her mouth and go back outside. The little angel- his conscience and not the poofter in LA - was telling him that what was in front of them was far more important.

Buffy chuckled, silently giving up on her last night of wild, Discovery Channel, encounters, and resigning herself to her other great joy. "I think we might have to… put this on hold."

Spike nodded, swallowing hard. "Right. Right. Uh…" He walked to the chair in the corner of the room, setting her down and staring at her sweet, flushed face. "You sure, Pet? You know… You understand that I love you and…"

Buffy leaned forward, pressing her lips to his in a kiss full of sweetness and understanding. "I do, Spike. I trust you to do the right thing." Her eyes flitted back to the bed. "But I think we better find some pajamas and let them know too."

Spike smiled. "Damned PJ’s."

"Decency… a hazard of parenting," Buffy chuckled, kissing him softly once again. "I love you, Spike."

"I know. And I…"

"I know."

Spike looked back over his shoulder at the sleeping tots. "Emma have school tomorrow?"

Buffy shook her head. "Holidays."

"Good. Think we could all use a late morning."

Buffy nodded, yawning, her hand over her belly. "This one too."

Spike leaned forward, kissing her hand. "’Specially that one."

"Nap?"

"Nap," Spike repeated, suddenly exhausted himself.

Buffy’s eyes shot open as she rose. Spike’s heart hammered in his chest, wondering what was wrong. "Spike?"

"What, Pet?"

"About tomorrow?"

"It’ll be okay, Pet. Nothing bad’ll happen with the Queen and …"

"Do you think we have to make hors d’oeuvres?"

Spike rolled his eyes, pulling her down to her knees in front of him and kissing her relentlessly. "Go. Put on your sodding pajamas and let’s get to bed."

She giggled, kissing him back. "Only if you promise to let me show you who you belong to before you leave."

"Already know who I belong to," Spike whispered, capturing her lips. "Tho’ doesn’t hurt to be reminded."

To be contd.

 

 

Title: Evil Crossies (Chapter Twenty-five - Meant to Be)

Author: Nimue

Rating: PG-13

Pairing: Spike/Buffy (Most major characters included)

Feedback: Yes, please

Summary: The meeting of the minds, and of the spirits. But will it go as planned?

Evil Crossies

The key fitted into the lock and Willow pushed through the doorway, Tara and Emma behind her. A small frown stretched across her face. Buffy and Spike should be home by now. I mean, the meeting was less than an hour away. Dawn and Brian had taken the younger kids to a Disney movie and then back to their place for some makeshift camping, complete with tents, in their living room. She smiled, remembering all the little blanket tents sticking up from the floor like a miniature Woodstock.

The frown returned, wondering why she was letting herself into Buffy’s house with the key, and not being met at the door by the One-dertwins themselves.

This was not of the good.

Willow hazarded a look back at Tara, who shrugged, leading Emma into the hall and taking off her coat. The door clicked shut behind them.

“I wonder...,” the redhead had time to begin before she heard a ‘bang’ from downstairs.

Eyebrows raised, she looked at Tara again. Tara smiled a little, but shrugged, hanging Emma’s coat up on the rack near the door.

Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang. Slowly. Then an erratic bang-clang-bang-clang- bang. Then back to the steady bang. Bang. Bang.

Slowly, Willow started across the living room to the kitchen, hearing the sound get louder. Louder. She gestured for the two others to stay behind as she proceeded until she found herself at the basement door, her ear pressed against the wood.

Bang-clang-clang-bang-clang-bang ‘UUUUNNNHHH!’ Willow’s eyes shot wide, realizing what she was listening to, and unless Buffy *really* liked fixing an out of balance washing machine, it wasn’t something she was supposed to be hearing.

But the meeting was a short time away. And Emma...

Crap.

Willow let her hand fall to the knob, the rhythmic banging starting anew. A subtle turn of the wrist. She’d just call down the steps. Let them know she was here.

Roaring greeted her as the door clicked open. Vampire hearing or not, he seemed a little occupied to notice it.

Spike roars?

Wow.

Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang.

“Uh...uh, Buffy?”

The banging stopped dead.

A pregnant pause and a breathy voice answered her. One trying to be not-so- breathy. “Willow?”

“Uh, yeah...” Willow stopped. This wasn’t fair. At least she could bail them out a little. In the background, she heard a knock on the front door. “Um, I know that... well, that pesky washer’s been acting up and what with the slaying and all the dirty clothes, but ... well, company.”

A deeper shade of blush crossed her face, but she at least felt as though dignity was duly given.

Another voice, still shaky. “R...right, Red. Be right up. Just have to... loosen this bolt, then screw it back in.”

The dull thud of a smack from downstairs and Willow had to laugh. “Well, don’t want to interrupt that... process. Just thought you should know.”

She let the door click shut and turned her back, still smiling. Tara had it coming tonight.

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

The rest of the gang was in the living room, sitting in a makeshift circle of furniture and listening to Willow and Wesley explain what would happen when the basement door clicked open. To be fair, it hadn’t been very long since Willow’s... interruption. Everyone had showed up at once.

Both halves of the One tried to be nonchalant, strolling into the living room one at a time. Buffy first, while Spike hung back in the kitchen a beat or two. Like teenagers who’d just been caught doing something not so spring fresh.

Willow grinned at the flushed faced Slayer, long skirt looking a bit rumpled, but still quite presentable, all things considered. “Washer fixed?” Her friend tried to bail, winking slyly.

Buffy blushed a deeper red. “Yeah. You know. With the spin cycle and the hopping and banging and...”

Spike walked in, hastily buttoned shirt and mussed curls forced into trying to behave and failing. “Bit old, that thing,” he muttered, jamming his hands in his jeans pockets.

Tara smiled slyly. “But Willow told me you were just finished screwing the last fixture when ...”

Buffy blushed deeper. Spike smirked, rolling his eyes and reaching for a cookie on the plate next to the kitchen entrance. Everyone else looked confused.

“Your washer’s broken?” Xander asked. “I could have fixed it.”

“All fixed,” Buffy squeaked. “It’s the fixediest.”

“S’properly oiled and screwed now, whelp,” Spike contributed. “No problems.”

Xander nodded, oblivious. “Next time just call.”

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

They stood in the center of the room, now devoid of furniture as Willow explained the last details, glancing at her watch nervously every few seconds. “It works like this. We had to set a circle up to keep them all in here and it has to stay exactly the way I show you,” she began, pushing people into place around the outskirts. “It’s set up this way... well... for a lot of reasons, but mostly it’s so it’s... balancey.”

“Why are we playing ring around the rosy?” Xander asked as he was surreptitiously shoved between Giles and Tara.

“It will keep our visitors tethered inside,” Wesley answered, taking a place a few steps from Giles and a few steps away from Anya. Alone.

“And so they can’t get back in uninvited,” Tara added, on the other side of Giles, closing a gap.

“Not sure I understand. Are you saying that if we move, then whoever shows up has an all-access pass to our house?” Buffy snapped as Willow pushed her next to Spike, alone at one arc of the circle.

As Willow answered, she shuffled the people on the right, then placed Cyrus and Emma opposite Spike and Buffy, then placed Takina, Oz and Anya opposite Giles and Xander and set off a bit to the side. “Not if we don’t move once we’re in order,” Willow muttered.

Spike scanned the circle, suddenly understanding the pattern. “Shouldn’t I be over there, Love?” Spike asked, pointing at Takina, Oz and Anya.

Willow looked at him, blushing and stopping her shuffling. “No. And I hate that this has to be this way at all... because... well... I mean my kids... and....”

Spike nodded sagely. “No worries, Pet. Understood.”

“Not with the understanding,” Xander pressed as Willow took her spot.

Wesley sighed. “Balance of force,” he said quietly. “To keep the power trapped inside, there has to be a balance of good and evil. Not to say that anyone here is evil...” He hazarded a glance to Anya who was looking at her nails, unaffected. Takina just nodded.

“Still not getting it,” Xander asked, looking around the circle.

“What Watcher Junior is trying to say, git, is that the demons are on one side, the humans on the other and the Immortals on either end,” Spike interrupted.

Xander glanced around the circle, taking it in. He stood at the edge of a loose arc now, Tara to his right, then Giles, then Willow, then Wesley. A pace or two larger separation, and there was Buffy and Spike, shoulder to shoulder. A few more paces, then Takina and Oz and Anya. A few more and Cyrus and Emma. Then a space and back to Xander.

“It’s not even,” Xander commented, looking across at his wife. “They don’t have enough...”

“It’s not going to be a battle, Xander,” Wesley commented. “And besides...”

“We have more power,” Anya commented, staring at Giles. “The force is even.”

Buffy nodded. “It’s about power,” she muttered. “Which is why...?”

“I have to be here,” Emma continued, squeezing Cyrus’s hand. “Only we can balance you, and even then, it’s uneven,” she continued. “But it’s strong.”

Spike eyed his daughter, desperately wanting her to be somewhere else. Somewhere safe, nowhere NEAR the likes of Gwydion and Luke. But in his head, he suddenly saw a picture. Smelled the sweet smell of vanilla and the soft, almost British lilt of his grown daughter as he’d first heard it – before she was even born. “I saved you from them once, daddy.”

Spike nodded and Emma smiled quietly.

Sooner or later he’d have to face that she was older than time, and stronger than existence.

He grabbed Buffy’s hand and held tight. ~~~@~~~@~~~@~~~

It started fast and without warning. Xander had just finished some tirade on how demons weren’t necessarily evil when a little white light had appeared in front of him. They all had stopped talking and watched as the glimmer swirled and grew, then split into two like cells in that human reproduction video they’d all been forced to watch in high school, then spun on its axis and elongated, glowing. Glimmering. Stretching.

Before many of them could wrap their minds around it, the glow took shape, a liquid shape at first, and then became a sparkling solid in front of them.

Cyrus dropped to one knee. Emma followed suit.

Spike and Buffy bowed their heads without even knowing that they were doing it.

The Queen, taller than she’d seemed above, shrugged off a glowing white hood and looked at Emma and Cyrus, a gentle smile on her face. “You do not have to bow before me here,” she said sweetly, stretching her hand toward Emma. “This is your world and in it, you are the royalty.”

Emma and Cyrus rose, Emma clutching her Queen’s hand and the glow extending to the child. Spike made to move towards her – to make sure she didn’t need him. But a sense of peace washed over him and he relented.

The Queen and her mate then turned to Buffy and Spike, nodding. They lifted their faces to the Queen and King, nervous but knowing, somewhere, that this was where they got their strength to fight. This was who gave them their gifts.

Their curses came from the others.

As if on cue, a blackness appeared on the floor slightly in front of Anya and Takina. They didn’t’ move, even when it stretched dangerously close to their feet. Xander lurched forward, but Tara and Giles shot out their arms to keep him in place.

A pair of men rose from the blackness. One in a conservative, proper suit. The other in a red velvet disco-era ensemble, with a red satin shirt underneath, opened to nearly his belly.

Spike couldn’t take his eyes from the man in the conservative suit.

Gwydion had chosen to take Spike’s father’s face again for the visit.

Buffy clung to Spike’s hand, squeezing it. Trying to reassure him without words. He closed his eyes and took a breath, remembering that this wasn’t his father. This wasn’t his future. Not anymore.

The shimmering Queen and her King looked at the pair of men with utter disdain as they became solid. Real, right in front of them.

“It’s not quite fair,” the Queen began, “to begin these proceedings taking the shape of a loved one.” She looked at Spike for a moment. “Torture was not part of the arrangement as I understand it.”

Gwydion smiled. “Neither is meeting you in a place with so little in the way of amenities.”

“Hey!” Buffy yelped, realizing he’d just insulted her house.

“It is a bit primitive,” the King agreed, shrugging at Buffy and smiling kindly.

The Queen nudged him softly. “They do not have the same means that we do to procure such necessities.”

“It is a capitalist society,” Anya chimed in, gaining an eye roll from Giles.

The King turned to his Queen. “Our girl lives here.” Spike growled at the implication. “All it’d take is a wave...”

He waved his glowing hand and the living room was transformed into a palatial hall, decked in gold and built of marble, gleaming and....

“No!” The Queen reprimanded, waving her hand and turning it back. “She must live a human existence and...”

“What’s wrong with my house?” Buffy asked, annoyed. Spike chuckled at her defensiveness.

“Not enough red,” Luke commented, nodding briskly and causing the entire room to turn into shades of red, with velvet and plush and seventies disco lighting.

Gwydion shook his head once and it was gone. Back to the earth tones and neutral hues Buffy had chosen.

“It’s bad enough that I have to see that every day,” Gwydion complained.

The Queen smiled. “So, as I thought, you are not there of your own will.”

“It is a useful necessity,” the Hell god answered.

“But not one of power,” the King commented, a slight smile breaking on his face.

“I have Power!” Luke yelped, insulted. “Powerful power. You know, being a god of Hell and all. Comes with a perk or two.”

“Yeah, bad decorating skills,” Anya commented, looking at her nails again, bored with the proceedings.

“As much as I hate to interrupt this discussion,” Wesley said, apparently as the spokesman of the group, “It seems we have business to attend to.” He nodded respectfully at the Queen and King. The glowing pair nodded their assent. “What? No respect for the Hell gods?” Luke whined.

“Would you shut up?” Spike snapped, getting annoyed with this gnat in bad haberdashery.

“Oh, you’re a big man now that old Luke doesn’t have you all tied up against the wall, crying’ bout your little knocked up missy and the rug rat to be,” the demon in red velvet teased.

Spike began to lurch towards him when Buffy finally intervened, pulling his hand before he could take a step out of the circle. “Not worth it,” she whispered. “Just trying to get you to move.”

He looked down at his feet and saw a glow of blue light surrounding the inside of the circle of people, like an insane spherical boxing ring. Spike nodded, suddenly wising up.

“Which leads us to why we’re here,” Wesley began again, hoping that he could proceed with minimal interruption. The idea of standing before four of the most powerful beings in existence was a bit intimidating. Never mind that they were responsible for bringing all of them into this dimension. One wrong move and there could be no existence in the blink of an eye.

“Oh! Right. Slayer’s knocked up again,” Luke began. “We heard in passing. Not a big shock and all.” He turned to Spike, winking. “Way to go, studmuffin.”

Spike clenched his jaw. Giles winced. Wesley pressed on.

“As ... crass... as that was, it does bring us to the point at hand. We’ve discovered the prophesy...”

“You’ve only now discovered it?” The Queen asked, a frown of disappointment on her face. “I’d assumed that the Watcher’s Council would...”

Wesley looked ashamed. Willow frowned, holding onto Tara. “It only...we can be a little slow,” the redhead whispered.

The Queen nodded sorrowfully and turned her attention back to the Hell gods. “We cannot let you interrupt this life,” she said sternly. “It has been given our blessing and the soul has been chosen. It can only be changed by the decision of the Chosen.”

Both Buffy and Spike looked at the Queen. They *knew*. They knew whose soul the child would receive. They’d chosen it. Somewhere, inside the collective thoughts of the One, it seemed somehow wrong that they could just know, just talk about it as if it were an everyday occurrence when it was such a mystery to those who made it *be*.

Made *her* be.

“Oh you have?” Gwydion crooned, wisely. “Do tell.”

The King chuckled. “Do you think we just snapped into being in this godforsaken living room?”

Buffy moved to speak but Spike yanked her hand.

“No worries,” Gwydion chuckled. “We know.”

Spike’s turn to want to lurch into the center and beat something to a bloody pulp. Emma stared at her parents, holding them back with her mind, her spirit, alone.

A concerned look crossed the Queen’s lovely face, replaced by the serenity it always held. “You are lying.”

“’Fraid not,” Luke chimed. “But you’re not worried. I mean, being all- powerful and all.”

The King looked worried. The Queen looked... less confident. “And what is it that you want?”

“We’ll take her,” Luke sing-songed, pointing at Emma.

“No.” It was a collective snap from every mouth but Luke’s and Gwydion’s.

“All right,” Gwydion pressed on. “The second child.”

Another collective “No.”

The two Hell gods looked at each other. “You know what we can do with the knowledge we have,” Gwydion drew out, smiling.

The Queen and King looked at each other. “We do.”

“We *don’t*,” Spike snapped, feeling as though he had a right to be involved with the bartering on the life of his unborn child. Buffy nodded her agreement.

The Queen turned to Buffy and Spike. “If they truly know the identity of the soul, and they’ve ever touched it before, then they can gain control over the entity once it exits our dominion to exist on the mortal plane.”

Giles turned to Buffy. “Control the soul, Buffy. If they know, and they have ever touched the soul, then they can take over the existence of your child.”

Buffy’s hand splayed over her belly. Didn’t it already have a soul? Wasn’t the baby inside of her already a person, just waiting to be? When did this happen? Did it come a little at a time? What ...

“Isn’t there any way that we can tell if they’ve interfered with the soul in the past?” Spike asked, looking alternately between Giles and Wesley.

“Not such a big man now, are ya?” Luke chided. Buffy preemptively pulled Spike away.

The Queen shook her head. “No. It’s unlikely that the soul herself remembers and there would be no way of telling. If it’s not a voluntary sin, if they ever took control against the will of the soul, then it leaves no mark.” Another Universal Truth, washed over both Wesley and Giles, sending their minds reeling. If the soul was tarnished unwillingly, then it wasn’t marked?

“May... maybe we’d know if it was,” Willow said meekly. “Can you...”

The Queen shook her head. “I cannot. Identifying the soul in this realm would disparate the soul from all.”

“Speaking its name would make it cease to exist,” Wesley muttered, eyes wide with understanding. The Queen nodded her reply.

“So, really,” Gwydion interrupted, “We’re a bit ahead of the game.”

A deep breath from the King. “Well, what do you want, then?”

“We told you,” Luke answered.

“And we told *you*,” Spike began, his eyes blazing with anger, “you can’t have either of him.” He looked at Buffy. “Take me instead.”

Buffy yelped, threading her fingers through Spike’s and holding him in an iron vise. “No.”

Gwydion and Luke laughed. “Uh, no,” Luke said smugly. “Fat lot of good that does us. Now, were you still William the Bloody, and not Willie the Whipped, it might be fun. But as is, you’d just be a pain in the ass.”

“He’s still a pain in the ass,” Giles muttered, causing Spike to smirk.

“Give us a tick,” Luke said to the group before grabbing Gwydion and disappearing through the hole in the floor.

The group began to speak quietly among themselves, thinking that the hell contingent was gone, when they reappeared a split second later.

“Okay, if you won’t give us the little Peace girl or the little Seer brother of hers...”

“Seer?” Buffy asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Oops,” Luke giggled, slapping a hand over his mouth dramatically. “And you won’t let us have our fun with the new baby One, then we want pick of the next genocidal maniac, and NO TELLING to this lot...”

The Queen looked a bit shocked. “We cannot let a soul go to you unbidden.”

“No, no,” Gwydion corrected. “We won’t *take* anyone from you in that manner. It’d throw off the balance and even Hell gods can respect the balance. But when we corrupt his human form, you cannot protect the soul, and you cannot interfere by informing our little Legion of Earthly Fighters of our choice.”

The King and Queen looked at each other for a long moment, and then looked back at the Hell gods. “Agreed,” the Queen said. “We will not interfere as long as the soul is corrupted on *this* plane alone.”

Gwydion smiled. Luke hopped up and down gleefully. Both of them had various fingers and toes crossed, but it seemed to be working all the same. They didn’t need the Queen’s consent to corrupt earthbound souls.

Sometimes it worked to their advantage that the royalty of the upper realms thought them moronic.

“Are we quite finished?” The King asked, annoyed at both the Hell gods and the décor.

“One other thing,” Gwydion added, a devious smile on his face. “If we cannot have the next born of the One, we want her to be a Slayer.”

Buffy’s eyes shot wide. No. Not that. Anything but... she didn’t’ want her child to go through that. And didn’t want to know that as soon as her daughter was old enough, the clock would start on the end of her life.

“No!” She finally said to the group.

The Queen raised an eyebrow. “Why on Earth would you want another Slayer the likes of this one? She has proven herself time and time again superior to your kind.”

“Because,” Gwydion said, looking at Spike. “This one only survived because Prophesy demanded it. The next... she’d serve her purpose and be gone, like those that went before. I want them to be there when it happens. When their precious Slayer of a daughter finally loses...”

Spike began to lurch forward and Buffy could not stop him. Suddenly, a wall of white appeared in front of the pair, stopping them dead in their tracks.

“And you’ll sacrifice control of this soul in return?” The Queen asked, her hand outstretched, holding the One from entering the circle.

“Please no,” Buffy whimpered.

Luke and Gwydion both nodded.

“Then so be it,” the Queen said solemnly.

“No!’ Buffy screamed, crumpling against the wall.

“Won’t let her die like that,” Spike whispered, falling down next to Buffy. “We’ll protect her, Pet. Teach her.”

“No,” Buffy whimpered again.

They didn’t notice the four in the center disappear.

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

“It seems a fair trade, Buffy,” Giles said softly, approaching the crumpled pair on the floor. “At least she has a chance now.”

Spike looked up at the Watcher, holding Buffy’s head against his chest. She shook, unmoved by Giles’ words.

“Yeah, Buff,” Xander said, encouragingly. “We might be in walkers by then, but we know the game better than anyone.”

“And we can teach her magic too. That’s one plus you didn’t have,” Willow contributed brightly.

Buffy looked up, eyes wide and puffy, trying to wrap her mind around it. Her daughter. A Slayer. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad...

“Well, this is all well and good,” Anya interjected bluntly, “except that they were lying.”

“Lying?” Wesley asked, his gaze fixing on Anya. “How do you know?”

She sighed, patiently. “Well, first of all, they’re Hell gods. Notorious for NOT telling the truth. Secondly, they did crossies.”

Oz nodded sagely. “I saw that. Not that I could believe it, but...”

“They did crossies?” Willow yelped indignantly.

Anya nodded. “Works every time.”

“Crossies?” Giles asked, staring at his better half. “Anya, what on earth are you talking about?”

“They crossed their fingers behind their backs and lied, Rupie,” Anya said slowly, as if she were trying to explain quantum physics to her son. “They did crossies.”

“You’ve got to be kidding?” Buffy interjected, shaking her head. “Please tell me you’re kidding.”

Oz shook his head. “I saw them do it too. I just didn’t believe...”

“Not just a kid thing,” Anya interrupted. “Based on ancient demon law, in actuality.”

Buffy looked at Spike. He shook his head. “Thought it was just a schoolyard thing, Pet.”

“They did crossies?” Willow asked again.

“Evil crossies,” Xander muttered.

“And off we go to plan B,” Giles muttered under his breath. “Unbelievable.”

To be contd.

 

Title: New Kid in Town (Chapter Twenty-six - Meant to Be)

Author: Nimue

Rating: PG-13

Pairing: Spike/Buffy (Most major characters included)

Feedback: Yes, please

Summary: The meeting of the most powerful forces of good and evil has concluded in the Windsor living room, but the problem still exists. Empty promises made and sure to be broken, and the crew have to find another way. Plan B goes into action. But will the product be worth the cost to them all?

New Kid in Town

It had been three days since the meeting had come unhinged by the cross of demonic fingers. They hadn’t done much at all other than meet and plan and sleep and patrol. Lots of patrol, Spike thought as he walked next to Buffy through their fourth cemetery of the night.

Four cemeteries. Lots of dead in Sunnydale.

Lot less now than there were before the little blonde thing stalking in front of him. He smiled at that. Really, he was turning into such a sap.

Who was he kidding? He was always a sap.

A rustle of leaves and Buffy pounced; finding a small group of younger Vampires huddled around a trash can fire in the west corner, hidden only by ill tended shrubbery. Spike hung back for a moment as she launched off the stone wall behind the hedge, flipping flawlessly into the middle of the group and smiling triumphantly as little, newly dead minds figured out who she was.

A flick of the wrist and one of five was dust before the rest had even processed the information.

The dance began anew. Roundhouse kick. Parry. Duck. Left hook. What seemed so predictable to Spike was a complete shock to them as they hopelessly fought the lioness of all Slayers. The Queen. His Queen.

But she didn’t see what he could feel coming, with the power and might of the ages.

As Buffy fought, a presence came from behind the shrubs, pausing for only a moment to watch Buffy massacre what Spike guesed was this one’s newest recruits. A master vampire. Old. Powerful.

And in Spike’s town.

He was the only Master here, even if his family wasn’t of the Vampire variety anymore.

With a flourish, Spike turned from Buffy, his back to her, calling a warning over his shoulder as he began to stalk forward toward the shadowed figure. Buffy paused long enough to get caught by a mean, yet harmless right cross to the chin, hollered her acknowledgement and went back to the remaining fledglings.

The figure came forward, robed and hooded, face obscured by the darkness. It stopped short of the blond Vampire and took a deep, unneeded breath.

“Got the wrong town,” Spike hissed, his legs spread and anchored, his body tensed to pounce. “No Master’s welcome here. Should know that.”

The figure scoffed. “This is the Hellmouth. There should be a Master in residence, since the last one went soft.”

A bristle of electricity crept up Spike’s spine. “Have to ask the Slayer’ bout that.”

“Formidable, I’ve been told,” the Vampire said coolly. “And stronger for your mating. But I’ve not come here to mate.”

That did it. Even the *thought* of another Vampire mentioning Buffy in that manner was intolerable. It was time to prove that he wasn’t the oldest surviving Vampire in Sunnydale, albeit with... modifications... for nothing.

Spike sprang forward, fist raised and arcing towards the head of the creature. He had no weapons other than a stake, as the town had been quiet for months now. They were really just patrolling to keep the fledgling population down and give them something to do to take out their frustrations.

As the hooded figure slid gracefully out of the way, Spike thought that complacency might *not* have been the best of all ideas.

He landed on the ground with a thud, somersaulting to his feet and lunging at the figure. This time, it took the bait and swung at Spike, starting a dance step he hadn’t performed in years.

The two Masters tangled together, fists flying, claws and fangs bared as they fought. Spike could hear Buffy in the background, polishing off what seemed to be a continuous supply of fledgling minions. A trap. Occupy the Slayer with a horde of baby Vamps, then take out her mate, the competing Master, in a proper match. One on one.

Can’t have that, can we? Spike thought.

His hand caught the back of the other creature’s hood and ripped it down, exposing a young looking man with longer, dark, hair. Power crackled around him and as he swung, catching Spike in the side of his head and knocking him clear, the blond judged that this one was old. Older than him and probably than Angelus.

And he was strong.

How the *hell* had they missed this?

Spike shook his head to clear it, pulling the stake out from inside of his duster, and ran at the dark haired Vampire full tilt. The other master braced himself, pushing Spike back, but missing the right hand the blond swung from an awkward angle, smashing into the darker master’s face. Stunned for a moment, both by the shock and the weight of the blow, Spike took his chances and brought his left hand in for the kill.

The cloaked figure caught the hand and began to fight anew, twisting Spike’s arm behind him and spinning him into a chokehold. Spike kicked back with a satisfying crack of the other Vampire’s knee and spun back to face him, setting loose a flurry of jabs that knocked the older Vampire back.

A scream from his lover took Spike’s attention as he jumped back, spinning towards Buffy. She was doubled over, down on her knees, blood running from the corner of her mouth.

“Buffy!” Spike screamed as his feet moved at a frenzied pace toward her. Before he could reach her, the dark master grabbed the collar of his duster and yanked him back. Buffy’s eyes met Spike and he saw her nod quickly, a signal that he knew meant she was okay... or at least okay enough... before he was hauled back into battle with the older creature.

A moment or two later, a howl of victory came from behind Spike and he could feel Buffy’s adrenaline course through his system. A new surge of energy propelled him, game face on, at the older Master. As Spike attacked, the dark hair stranger’s eyes grew wide and he dodged out of the way of Spike’s raised stake, taking off into the bushes.

Spike fell forward on his own momentum, landing on his knees where the dark master had been standing. A moment of confusion at his enemy’s hasty departure clouded Spike’s mind until he felt her drop down beside him, bloodied and bruised and panting, but seemingly all right.

“Guess he was too chicken to try against us both,” Buffy panted, a smirk on her face.

Spike chuckled, tumbling back onto his backside in the grass. “No one’s that stupid, Pet.” He paused, catching his own breath, and looked at her. “You all right?”

She nodded, but he saw pain in her eyes and she was guarding her arm against her belly. He tensed, fearing the worst.

For a moment, he’d forgotten that she was carrying their child.

“Buffy?” Spike asked, hopping back up to his knees in front of her. “What aren’t you telling me?”

She sighed, wincing. “There were a lot of them, Spike. And... they kept coming. I need to train more... and...”

“Love?” Spike almost growled. “You killed the lot of them. Not doubting your strength. But there are more important things to think of... what.is.wrong?”

She clutched her arm against her belly tighter and closed her eyes, grimacing. Spike could smell the pain flowing off of her in waves and his heart began thudding wildly in his chest. “Buffy, please...”

Her eyes slid open and she nodded down at her midsection. That arm clutched over the barely swollen belly. “Think I’m hurt.”

Spike’s heart began breaking before her words even came out of his mouth. He moved towards her on his knees, visually surveying her every inch and coming back again and again to that arm clutched tight over their child.

Buffy saw it in his eyes – the terror that comes from losing it all, not the frustration of letting someone you love suffer a physical injury. Oh God.

“Spike?” She whispered, raising her right hand up to cup his cheek. “I’m okay. Really. I think I broke my arm.”

His gaze shot up to meet hers and she could feel the relief slip from him in a deep sigh. “Your arm?”

She nodded, dropping her good hand to the sleeve of the one held against her torso, and pulled it back, exposing a nasty gash and a flash of bone about half way up her forearm.

“Hell, love. S’bad. Need to get you to the hospital. Want you checked out.”

“Just a break, Spike.”

“Not just a break,” he grunted, standing and leaning down to pick her up carefully. “Cell phone’s in my pocket. Call Takina and tell her to meet us there.”

“Spike. Slayer. I heal,” Buffy whined as he loosed his grip long enough to let her worm her good hand into the pocket of his duster and pull out the cell phone as he picked up a fast walk in the direction of the hospital.

“Damn trap, that was,” Spike grunted. “Divide and conquer. Getting soft, I am. Let my guard down. Could have hurt you. Could have hurt the baby. Could have...”

Buffy leaned up, kissing his chin. “Broke my arm,” she whispered quietly. “Ouchy, but not life threatening. Baby is *fine*. But you’d know that if you stopped long enough to...”

“Doesn’t change that the tot has enough against her without me letting his mum get pummeled by a horde of Vampires,” Spike growled, annoyed.

Buffy sighed, flipping open the phone and wincing. “I’m the Slayer, Spike. My *job* to pummel and be pummeled.”

“Just call her, all right? Let me brood,” Spike snapped, breaking into a jog.

Buffy chuckled, wincing as her arm was jarred by the giggle. “Don’t tell me you’re turning into your grandpa.”

Spike growled and jogged on.

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

“She’s fine,” Takina said, coming out of the examining room in the ER with a slight smile on her face. Spike was pacing back and forth and Xander was looking nervous, River squirming in his arms.

Spike stopped and looked at her. “Little one?”

“Fine,” Takina answered, moving to take River into her arms. “Nasty break, but judging from how the two of you heal, especially since the joining, I didn’t even cast it. Just put a splint on it, cleaned and stitched the wound, and told her to keep the sling on. She can’t be picking anything heavy up or moving it much for a couple of weeks after the wound heals...”

“Won’t have to. She’s not moving from the bed. Or the couch. Or wherever. Sod it, not letting her out of my sight again,” Spike grumbled, still internally beating himself over the head for her injury.

“Not thinking that’s gonna happen,” Xander muttered, under his breath.

Spike turned, snarling, when the door to the waiting room swung open and Giles bustled in. “How is she?”

“Other than a nasty broken arm, she’s fine,” Takina answered for the umpteenth time. “The nurse is just getting her a new shirt since hers is a little worse for wear, and then she can go.”

“The baby?” Giles asked, tensing once again.

“Fine,” Takina reassured, switching her own from one hip to the other. “Coming along nicely from the looks of the ultrasound.”

Spike and Giles both looked at her like dopey expecting fathers. “You saw her?” Spike asked.

Takina nodded. “Yep. Starting to look more baby-like now. “

“And you’re sure...” Giles began.

“Fine,” Takina sighed.

Giles nodded and looked at Spike. “Well, I would love to say that I came here just to check on her, but I’m afraid that there’s more to it.”

Spike turned his attention to the Watcher, a growl beginning in the back of his throat. “Not a good time, Rupert.”

Giles sighed, taking off his glasses and swiping them aimlessly. “I know, Spike. But I’m afraid we don’t have much... time, that is. Angel called.”

The growl grew to full-fledged and Spike’s eyes lit with fury. “Don’t care much about what Peaches has to say at this instant.”

“Right. Well, then I guess you don’t think that a chance of saving your child is particularly important then,” Giles snapped, uncharacteristically.

Takina excused herself back to the examining room, tugging a slack-jawed Xander along behind.

Spike bristled, moving to within centimeters of the taller man. “I’m going to pretend you didn’t say that.”

“I’m afraid that’s how you’re acting,” the Watcher answered, standing his ground. Looking at Spike’s frightened eyes, he softened. “Look, I know what it’s like to have a close call with that particular Slayer, but we all know by now that she’s fallible. That she gets hurt and she gets bloodied and all we can do is watch and try to help. I trust Takina to be telling us the truth that she is fine. And she and I will talk about what happened and why, so that it doesn’t happen again. But, in the meantime, we are running very short on time in regard to our plan.”

Spike clenched his jaw and relaxed it, relieving some of the tension. He hated when the Watcher was rational about Buffy, even though he knew that Giles was probably almost as upset as he was under the surface. “Can’t leave now, Mate. She’s hurt and there’s another master in Sunnydale.”

The Watcher’s eyes opened wide and he took a step back. “What?”

“’S how she got hurt,” Spike continued, his shoulders slumping. “We stumbled ‘cross this group of fledglings in the cemetery and she plowed in. ‘Cept it was a trap. More of them were waiting in the wings.”

“And a master was waiting for you,” Giles surmised.

Spike nodded his agreement. “An old one, Watcher. Older than me. Maybe even Angelus. Powerful. And he’s right under our sodding noses. Can’t leave Buffy to...”

“Go and find out information that might help our baby?” Buffy asked, pushing through the doors into the waiting room. “Uh... let me think... yes. Yes you can.”

“Buffy, Spike tells me that there’s another master Vampire in Sunnydale?” Giles asked, still trying to wrap his mind around the idea. He turned back to Spike. “I was under the impression that once one Master had taken residence that...”

Spike’s eyes dropped. “Forfeited my status, least as far as the Vampire community is concerned, when I took a human as my mate. Oh, and the bit with the beating heart and soul built for two didn’t help my case much...”

“Then why wouldn’t another master have made a move before now?” Buffy asked, her arm in a sling hanging down against a pale pink hospital scrub shirt.

Spike shot her a look. “Would you want to be the first to go against us, Pet?”

“Oh,” Buffy whispered, her head still muddied by the throbbing pain in her arm. They couldn’t give her much pain relief because of the baby. “Guess not.”

“Right,” Giles said quietly. “Well, this does change things.”

“How?” Buffy asked. “You’re the one who said that Drusilla was the one that may know the most about Gwydion and what he’d be planning...”

“Can’t leave you alone and unprotected with a broken wing and a master Vampire in town, Pet,” Spike snapped back. “Not going to.”

“Yes you will,” Buffy responded, pulling him to face her. “This moron is going to plot and scheme and take his time thinking up a way to get to us. That gives you time, and we need this information. All of us. Besides, I’ve got the rest of the crew here to keep an eye on me.”

Giles nodded. “That much is true, Spike. We’ll all be here, save for Anya, who’s with Willow and Dawn as we speak, preparing to go back to...”

A bolt of guilt shot through Spike. He’d just torn the Watcher apart in his hurt and anger over Buffy’s injury, but he failed to remember if he was about to embark on the second part of the plan, so was Giles’ beloved. “She all right then, Rupert?”

Giles chuckled. “I wouldn’t want to be on her bad side,” he answered softly. “I trust her judgment and if this is what she wants to do, then I’ll do what I can to help her do it safely.”

“You’d better get to her, Giles. See her off,” Buffy said quietly.

Her Watcher nodded. “Spike, when I spoke with Angel, he told me that there isn’t much time. He wouldn’t- or couldn’t- explain further, but I suppose that Drusilla is about to move again. It may not be so easy to find her a second time...”

Spike nodded. “I’ll stay with Buffy until you and the Witch come back, all right?”

Giles nodded his consent. “We won’t leave her until you’ve returned. And she won’t leave the house. She’s safe there with the wards around the property.”

Buffy shot a cold look at the Watcher. “But there’s another master that needs to be...”

“Dealt with when Spike comes back and you’re healed. Right now, you need to worry more about you and your child,” Giles interrupted. “And I will make sure of it, Spike.”

Spike nodded, looking forlorn, but accepting the situation. “Go see your bird off,” he said softly. “And tell her thanks from us.”

Giles nodded. “Do you have a way home?”

“Xander and Takina can take us,” Buffy answered nodding.

The Watcher turned to Spike. “Be safe. We’ll take care of her.” With that, he turned and quietly left the room.

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

He had tucked them all into bed. Will first, as he’d awoken when they’d come home. Then Emma, who was frightened over her mother’s injury, but exhausted from all that was going on. He kissed them both and settled them in before heading back to his and Buffy’s bedroom to wait.

She was lying on top of the covers in flannel pajama bottoms and a tank top he’d helped her into when they first got home. She looked so small and so young, all freshly scrubbed and overwhelmed by an enormous splint and equally ungainly sling.

Spike leaned down and kissed the healing wound on her arm. “Sorry I didn’t get to you in time, Love,” he whispered for the fiftieth time that night.

Buffy bopped him playfully on the back of the head. “Would you stop? Hazard of slaying. Besides, you were getting your ass kicked too at the time.”

“Was not,” Spike grumbled defensively.

She chuckled, pushing herself up on the pillows. “Okay then. You were being unsuccessful at kicking someone else’s ass?”

“Not bloody likely,” he groused. “Just moved so fast. Haven’t fought like that in...”

“We should train more,” Buffy said quietly as Spike laid his head just below her wounded arm so that his ear was pressed to her abdomen.

He nodded, his hair tickling her through the cotton of the tank top. “True. Thought that three times a week was enough,’ specially now....”

“But now,” she continued softly, “is when I need to be able to protect myself, and the rest of us, most.”

Spike nodded, suddenly hearing something and freezing.

“What is it?” Buffy asked, her body tensing. That other Vampire couldn’t get into the house, could he?

Before she could launch herself into full throttle panic, Spike put his hand on her good arm and began to tap out a quick, staccato beat against her skin. Buffy smiled, letting her eyes slide closed and feeling his cheek against her belly, his fingers tapping out the rhythm of their baby’s heart.

“”S gonna be all right, Pet,” Spike whispered, turning his head up so his gaze met hers. “Promise you, I’ll protect us.”

“*We’ll* protect each other,” Buffy corrected, letting her hand slide through his silky hair.

“That we will,” Spike confirmed.

The door downstairs creaked open and they could hear Willow’s voice call up the stairs. “You decent?”

“Not likely,” Spike called back, getting a smack from Buffy.

“Be down in a second, Will,” Buffy called back. “Guess this is it,” she whispered so that only Spike could hear her again.

Spike pushed himself up on his elbows, studying her face. “Guess so, Pet. If you tell me to stay...”

She shook her head slowly. “As much as I don’t want you near her, I know... well, if it will help...”

He leaned down and pressed his lips softly to hers. “Buffy, I will *never* love anyone again but you. Not the same. You’re my world.”

Buffy smiled sadly and leaned forward to kiss him once again. “I love you, Spike.”

“I love you too, baby.”

“Be careful and come back to me, okay?” The tears were welling up in her eyes as she said it. She knew, rationally, he’d never leave her side if given that luxury. But her heart was nowhere near as secure.

“I’ll always come home,” Spike whispered, kissing her once again. “Now be a good duck and mind your daddy.”

Buffy nodded, tears slipping down her face. “Don’t mind your mom.”

Spike chuckled. “Deal.”

He stood, kissing her once again, and then leaned down to pick up a light duffle bag. “Promise me you won’t move against the bloody master without me?”

Buffy’s turn to giggle. “Promise. And don’t kill Angel while you’re down there.”

“No promises,” Spike joked, kissing her cheek. “Better go, love.” Against his will, he began to back towards the bedroom door. “I love you always, Pet.”

“I love you everyday, Spike.”

He smiled softly, and then turned to leave.

To be continued.

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