Meant to Be

Title: The Brood (Chapter Thirty-two - Meant to Be)

Author: Nimue

Rating: PG-13

Pairing: Spike/Buffy (Most major characters included)

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

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

Summary: The Sunnydale and LA forces for good decide to join to kill two birds with one stone. Save Spike and Buffy’s child, and take out the Master that threatens them all.

The Brood

By two hours after sundown, the entire entourage had arrived at Casa de Windsor. Despite their best efforts, there was no way to accommodate both sides of a strange, extended family in the one house, so Xander, living less than a block away from command central, offered his house to even the load. Willow set wards around the Harris residence as well, leaving Takina to man the invites. Being half demon herself, she was more likely to detect a glamour – someone pretending to be one of their own.

On the return trip, Willow created an invisible trail between the back yards of the houses that would shield any movement between them. It’d just look like empty back yards, even if they drove a tank down the path. Xander had to give her credit. Since she taken back the reins of magick, she’d put it to some extremely clever uses in the name of the good fight.

Inside, Buffy and Spike divided resources accordingly, Buffy doing more of the ordering as Spike’s ability to articulate thought was still fairly raw – he was easily distracted and drawn back into despair. But he told her what he thought, and held the two kids like lifelines as she divvied up the people and supplies.

The Witches and the Werewolf were to stay with Buffy and Spike, both as protection and to retrieve Anya from the Red Mansion, for which they’d need Dawn. Spike had made it clear that he wasn’t letting the girl out of his sight until the new Master was dealt with, so Dawn and her beau were assigned Emma’s room. Spike had tried to make him sleep downstairs, but Buffy had quietly talked him out of it, letting her little sister and her fiancé be together.

Emma was staying with Spike and Buffy. There were no arguments, no discussions. She’d sleep between them, she’d shadow one or both of them in the house, and she’d never be out of eyeshot. Cyrus offered to sleep on the couch in order to help watch his charge, to which the One agreed.

Giles would lead the others at Xander’s house with Wesley, Gunn, Fred and three of the children – Will, Randy and River. As much as Spike and Buffy both hated to part with him at a time like this, he was safer there. Spike and Emma had to go to the place where souls slept. The Master was after Dawn and Emma. Spike and Buffy were the One. All of the negative forces would be drawn to command central and Will was simply safer with Xander and his family.

Besides, Spike thought, it was likely that Rupert would rip the head off of anything or anyone who came within a hundred meters of the kids. And they’d immediately taken a liking to Fred, who was watching them like a tiny, fierce, hawk.

All of this left Angel and his girl.

As much as Spike didn’t want to admit it, they needed Angel with them. The great poof may or may not help his grandchilde willingly, although after the recent loss of Drusilla, Spike was inclined to think Angel felt a debt to him, but he would help Buffy. Angel wouldn’t allow anyone to harm Buffy, her sister, or her daughter, particularly by another Master. Spike knew that he had a journey to make with Emma, but, if the past was any indication, their corporeal bodies would remain, still and helpless, on this plane.

Spike didn’t much care if Angel watched over him. Injured or not, he knew that Buffy would have his back. With himself, he was willing to take the chance that her injury wasn’t a liability, but with their daughter…

To be honest, Spike thought, it didn’t have damn all to do with her destiny, or universal peace, or any such. No.One.Was.Hurting.His.Girls. Simple as that. And if he had to rely on his grandsire to make sure that was the case, then pride be damned.

The plan was for Xander, Oz, Gunn, Wesley, and Cordelia to patrol and see if they could find a location on the Master by roughing up some fledges. Spike and Angel were going to throw their own weight around, as Masters, to see if they could find anything out from the demon population. The rest were staying to keep an eye on the kids. As much as Buffy didn’t like the plan, she stuck to it, mostly because Spike didn’t want to leave Emma without one of them, and he was more likely to get information from Vampires than was the Slayer.

Once the sun rose, and they’d gotten a little sleep, Spike would let Emma take him to the land where the souls slept to see what they could do. And how much more they would lose in the process.

Life is loss.

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

“Man, they’re everywhere,” Gunn noted calmly, dusting another fledgling that not only didn’t know the Master, but that barely knew his own name. “Always like this around here?”

“Hellmouth,” Xander stated flatly, holding a crossbow over another fledgling that Cordelia was questioning relentlessly. “They sort of flock here. Do Vampires flock?”

“I think they’re more of a gaggle,” Oz answered, sidestepping another fledge as it flew past him, reeling from a kick Wesley had delivered.

The small group of undead had been done away with, obviously having nothing to do with the new player in town, and the living reassembled, dusting off their clothes and returning to their route.

“Ugh. I so don’t miss this,” Cordelia whined, a spot of some sort of ichor spreading on her top.

“Oh, you know you do,” Xander teased back, slinging an axe over his shoulder. “Actually, it’s been pretty quiet for years. Not too many of the big guys want to go up against the whole One gig.”

Oz nodded his agreement. “Mostly, we get these guys. There’s more out there, but unless they’re hurting someone…”

“I noticed that you’re down with the demon tolerance,” Gunn continued. “Is it like a trial to get into your group, man? Have to date a demon?”

“Or be supernatural,” Oz answered, grinning.

“I believe it just… worked out that way, Charles,” Wesley interjected, strolling next to the group but not quite in the tight circle. “It certainly speaks to the state of civilization that so many factions of the demon population can integrate with…”

“Yeah, we know, demons can be sexy,” Cordy chimed in. “And furry,” she continued, shooting a pointed glance at Oz before breaking into a grin. “Can you give us the non-Watcher speak version of what the Hell is going on around here?”

“This week?” Xander asked, chuckling.

“How bout the abridged version of the whole thing?” Gunn asked.

Xander and Oz exchanged a glance before Oz nodded his consent to the always-babble-ready Harris to continue. “Okay, well. Buffy dies. Buffy gets brought back. Apparently, Buffy is sad and no one really notices but Spike. Buffy and Spike end up in this sex-o-rama that wasn’t supposed to mean anything and that no one knew about but apparently did mean something and we all found out.

How, you ask? Buffy gets in a battle with some demon that makes her skip realities but it wasn’t realities so much as it was forward and back in time. Turns out, she has a baby. Spike’s baby.

Which, of course, no one understands until we find out she’s really pregnant. And it’s really Spike’s. What with the whole Vampire-dead seed thing, I guess no one thought much about birth control.

Anyway, he’s strangely happy. She’s strangely happy. They end up together. But nothing is easy. Willow goes all black magick and Spike dies to stop her.”

“Spike died?” Gunn asked.

Xander and Oz nodded. “Yeah,” the dark haired boy continued. “Kinda when he got it through all of our heads that he was okay. He died saving all of us, including Willow. Buffy was pregnant and he was suddenly gone.

Of course, Buffy sort of never got the whole death thing down, so she went and yanked him out of this hell dimension when she was like, ready to pop, with the help of their unborn child, who, apparently, is some ancient embodiment of Peace and is destined for hugeness in the good guys department.”

“Emma,” Wesley confirmed.

Xander nodded again. “They make it back, but Spike has a bunch of cool new modifications. Like sunlight and breathing and heartbeat, but he’s still a Vamp. Can’t do much to play with it because Buffy goes into labour and almost dies, but doesn’t, and the world met Emma. The first child of the Scoobies and what everyone *thought* was the only kid that could come out of the whole Vampire/Slayer combo.

But no, they’re too horny for that.

Oh, and then the whole One thing came up. Some prophesy. Vampire moving toward light. Slayer that wasn’t quite what she was supposed to be. Wham bam, the Powers were watching Angel and Spike snuck right in and surprised them.”

“Pissed Angel off too,” Cordelia mentioned. “Although the Shanshu gig is still up for grabs.”

Xander snorted. “Weird Vampires. Anyway. There was some more ooky exchanges of bodily fluids and Buffy and Spike were eternally bonded and got like double the super powers and some weird life span bonuses. Oh, and a kid that's not only cool, but she can totally heal someone who got hurt helping her. That’s come in handy on several near death experiences.”

He stopped, taking a breath and watching Wesley casually dust a fledge without breaking his stride. Watcher Junior had changed. A lot.

“So, Buffy gets knocked up again. More strange happenings. People trying to kill her including the one we’re sort of up against now. Not the Master guy but the one trying to hurt her baby. He’s come back a few times. Like Spike’s dad once and then Riley the soldier boy. Jackass. But we always win.

Buffy has Will and the rest of us are getting into the game as well. Takina and I got together and my little girl came in not long after Will. Anya and Giles, weird as that is,” a little headshake to punctuate, “and out comes Randy. And then, of course, the brood.”

Oz nodded languidly. “Yeah, my little pack.”

“How’d that come about?” Gunn asked, giving Oz a sly smile.

“I’ll never tell.”

“But he got them the good old fashioned way,” Cordelia surmised. “Lucky furry guy.”

Oz gave a wolfish grin, but kept silent.

“Which brings us to now,” Xander completed, “of course, skipping over a lot that’s happened in the last seven or eight years. Buffy’s pregnant and that’s never easy. Ever seen a Slayer with bad hormones? And cravings?”

Cordelia shuddered. “Poor Spike.”

“And, I’m sure one of the rest of us will get off our asses and make a few more for our army in training,” Xander joked. “At least they’re better prepared to handle the Hellmouth then we were.”

To that, all three who had grown up there nodded.

“Ever think about moving?” Gunn asked quite honestly as they rounded out of the last cemetery of the night.

“All the time,” Xander conceded. “But this is where Buffy is supposed to be. We’ve been in it together for half our lives. We won’t leave her now. Besides, it’s our home. Someone’s got to protect it.”

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

“Wanna talk?” Angel asked, striding next to Spike along the sidewalk towards Willie’s and the dock.

“No,” Spike answered pointedly.

Angel nodded. “I can understand that.”

There was silence.

“Just not… don’t want to,” Spike continued, petulantly. It wasn’t so much that he was afraid he might rip Angel’s head off for *not* stepping up and handling the situation *he* created, but because he wasn’t there yet. Wasn’t to the anger. And he didn’t want to start up the waterworks again.

Not in front of Angel.

Not when he had so much to do.

“Can I say something?” Angel asked, still walking slowly, trying to keep things calm and simple.

“No,” Spike answered once again. A short, trite response.

“Going to anyway,” Angel intervened, watching Spike roll his eyes. He’d let alone the subject of Drusilla until Spike had some time to grieve. And he’d start training for the ass-kicking his now-much-stronger-grandchilde would likely dole out. But there was something else that needed to be said.

“I won’t let you down. Not this time,” the dark haired Vampire said quietly.

Spike spun, grabbing Angel by the throat and pushing him against the wall with strength that Angel hadn’t imagined. “Don’t bloody well care what you do for me. I was never on your top ten list of important playthings, souled or unsouled, but I *promise* you, if anything happens to Buffy, or Dawn, or Emma, or *any* of my people when I can’t be there to prevent it, I will hunt you down. And white hat or not, I’ll feed you to the Vengeance demon and then vacuum you up with the rubbish.”

Fear shot through Angel as he was held fast against the wall. Spike meant it. More than that, Spike *could* do it. Now. With the people who he’d come to love behind him, and who loved him just as much. A small smile broke on Angel’s face.

“I won’t let you down,” he choked out. “Not just for Buffy, but for you.”

Spike dropped his grandsire unceremoniously to the ground, wiping his hands on his jeans as if he’d contracted some gel-induced skin condition from touching the great poof. Angel just rolled his eyes.

They were silent again for a long moment, only the sound of their boots clacking against the pavement breaking the monotony.

“You know, Spike, reformed or not, you truly are the Master of Sunnydale now,” Angel commented as they passed under street lamps.

As much as Spike didn’t want to gratify Angel with any response at the moment, his interest was piqued. “Not really much of a Vampire, anymore.”

“But you are,” Angel continued. “You’re still a Vampire, just one who made some choices. Good ones, in my opinion. But you have your own childer now. Your own minions.”

Spike snorted. “Tell them that and the whelp’s likely to do the aforementioned for me.”

“I didn’t mean it in a derogatory sense, Spike,” Angel corrected. “You’re their leader. Well, you and Buffy. Maybe more Buffy….”

A chuckle Spike couldn’t hold back. “Leads me round like a pet poodle.”

“I would have at least given you a Lab or something. What’s an annoyingly tenacious English dog?” Angel chided in return.

An eye roll from Spike. “We got a job to do, is all. They do their part. I do mine. Buffy and I… well, we know what it is we’re round for.”

Angel smiled. “But you had a choice not to. You chose to stay and help. You choose to join with Buffy. You choice to take the destiny you were offered. And you chose to lead them well. You’re what a Master should be.”

Spike thought for a moment, not wanting to admit that he was actually kind of touched by the words. Angel had never given Spike any credit for doing anything right – not that he had for most of his unlife. But hearing it now, somewhere, meant something.

Of course Spike couldn’t let the great gelled one in on that little tidbit.

“You done being a walking Hallmark, or should I ready the insulin?” Spike asked, swinging open the door to Willie’s and standing side by side in the doorway with his grandsire.

“You want Willie, or to start with the patrons?” Angel asked, sizing up the room full of shaking and scattering demons, most of which the two Vampires wanted nothing to do with.

“Think the barkeep has a soft spot for you, Peaches. I got the crowd,” Spike commented before diving into the madness.

Angel smiled and headed to the bar.

To be contd.

Title: Claritin for the Soul (Chapter Thirty-three - Meant to Be)

Author: Nimue

Rating: PG-13

Pairing: Spike/Buffy (Most major characters included)

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

Summary: Willow, Tara and Dawn retrieve Anya from La Maison Rouge. Spike and Angel corner Willie for information on the Master and meet a new face they’d like to bash in. Buffy gets a message from Anya and the time crunch begins.

Claritin for the Soul

Willow, Tara and Dawn stood in a circle, candles flickering all around them. The basement was where they’d sent her from, and it was to the basement that she’d return. Not that the Windsor’s cellar was anything mystically special – well any more so than any other place where the One and the Peacemaker spent their time. But it was always easier to reopen a portal where one created it. And the basement had been convenient at the time.

Willow chanted softly as Tara removed her athame from its place tucked inside of her belt. Dawn stood quietly, nowhere near as nervous as she had been the first time any of them had used the Key to open a door to another dimension. Being bled was becoming old hat.

A quick, tiny prick and Tara squeezed Dawn’s finger. Three drops of blood in the center of the circle and a red pinpoint of light sparkled chest high. With a swirling, dizzying motion, it grew. Enlarged. Shimmered and shimmied its way into existence until a hole opened, obscuring Willow from view and leading into what appeared to be nothing more than a vast sea of red.

Whipping wind blew the women’s hair back, and an oppressive heat filled the room. Note to self, Dawn thought, don’t purposely open holes to hell dimensions as they’ll dry out your skin. As the random thought flitted across her mind, a shimmery figure appeared in the distant red sea. Like the hole, it grew and became fluid and solid again.

With a pop, a windblown and haggard Anya appeared through the portal.

With a command spoken from Willow, the door snapped closed.

Anya flopped to the floor, panting, her hair sticking out in every direction, her white dress, which wasn’t what she’d been wearing when she left, was dirty and torn. In once piece, but the demon looked the worse for wear.

Dawn ran to the mini fridge, grabbing a soda before Anya finally rose to speak.

“Not that,” the demon panted.

Dawn quirked a brow, reaching into the cool air of the fridge. “No drink?”

“Gimme something of Spike’s,” Anya answered, wearily, flopping back until she laid flat on the floor.

Dawn snickered, grabbing a beer bottle and opening it on her way back to the travel-worn Scooby. “You okay?”

Anya nodded, sitting up and taking the offered brew with a contented sigh. “Yeah, whatever.”

“What did you find out?” Willow babbled excitedly, sitting on the floor across from Anya. Tara and Dawn dropped down as well.

“Good to see you too,” Anya snarked. “First things first, how’s Randy?”

“He’s fine,” Tara answered, smiling softly. “At Xander’s.”

Anya chuckled. “Monkey boy’s taking care of the kids?”

“Everyone but Emma,” Willow answered, rolling her eyes. “They’re all there.”

“Rupert?” The demon asked, smiling at his name.

“Him too,” Tara answered. “Just us here. And Buffy and Emma. Spike’ll be back soon. He’s after the Master. And Angel and Cordelia are staying down here…”

“Whoa!” Anya exclaimed. “What Master? Who? And Angel? Spike hasn’t killed him yet?”

“Not yet,” Willow sighed. “Needed the help.”

Anya drained the bottle and let it tumble to the floor. Suddenly, she sat bolt upright and looked frantically around the room. “What time is it?”

Catching on to Anya’s nervousness, the other women tensed. “Um, bout… 2 AM,” Dawn answered, squinting against the darkness to look at her watch.

“Spike needs to go to the sleeping souls!” Anya babbled, hopping to her feet. “Luke and…”

“He knows,” Dawn answered, standing up slowly. “I think he and Emma were going to go in the morning…”

“No!” Anya exclaimed. “Now! I mean, Luke and Gwydion are turning on their mark at sunrise.”

“Turning on their mark?” Willow asked, joining the others, standing inside the circle.

“They still have a mark on the soul that’s meant for Buffy’s baby. At three months, they can activate the mark and once that’s done, free will is gone from the soul. And for the baby to be born and *not* fulfill the prophesy, the soul has to choose to not inhabit the body of its own volition.” Anya answered, as if the story should make as much sense as a grocery list. She turned, bolting to the steps.

“We need to find Spike!” The demon continued, rushing up the staircase.

“Find Buffy!” Dawn called up behind her.

~~@~~@~~@~~

“Well then. Looky, looky,” Spike purred, manhandling a young minion into the cage at the back of Willie’s bar. “Thanks for the tip,” he snarked at the barkeep, who Angel still had held against the wall, a strong hand wrapped around the throat of the struggling owner.

“I gave you what you wanted,” Willie panted. “Let me go.”

“Not done,” Angel replied simply. “As always, I’m thinking you know more than you’re letting on.”

“I don’t! I swear!” Willie answered, flailing under Angel’s grip. “This bigwig came to town. Brought his own people with him. Didn’t bother turning any of the town folk. “

“What’s he after?” Spike asked, locking the cage and coming over to where Angel held Willie firmly to the wall.

“I don’t know. I just serve the drinks!”

“Wrong!” Angel snapped, calmly, slamming Willie into the wall again.

“All right! All right!” Willie whimpered. “He’s after the Key and Spike’s kid.”

“Knew that, wanker,” Spike snapped. “Tell me something more … relevant.”

Willie’s eyes swam as he searched for something, anything, which could possibly make the Vampires let him go. “Um… he said the Hellmouth was the only place to do some ritual… I don’t know… something about opening specific gates to three different hell dimensions… And that there wasn’t a Master here so it was free territory.”

Spike tensed, but said nothing. Angel slammed the barkeep against the wall once more. “There is a Master here. At the moment, there are two. But this is Spike’s town. A protected Childe of the Order of Aurelius. “

Willie nodded furiously. “Everyone knows Spike and Buffy own this place,” he conceded. “This guy just has a death wish. Or thinks he can beat them.”

Angel dropped the barkeep to the floor. “If you see him, Willie, you let him know that there’ll be no mercy for encroaching on another Master’s territory.”

Again, Willie nodded, rubbing his neck. “That... that guy’ll know more. He’s the only minion that gets to go out on his own and do stuff,” he babbled, pointing at the silent, caged Vampire. “I think he’s a… not a minion, but…”

“Childer?” Angel asked, approaching the cage, sniffing the air.

“I don’t know what you kids call it nowadays,” Willie whined, backing towards the door. “But he knows stuff.”

“You a tot of the new Master?” Spike asked, ignoring the escaping barkeep as he joined his Sire at the bars of the cage. “Could be good, Angel. If he’s truly a Childe, the Master might come after him. Either to rescue or…”

“To kill the kid for getting caught,” Angel commented, shooting a half smile at Spike. Spike smirked in response. “Who’s your daddy?” He asked the caged Vamp.

Spike barked a laugh. “Not like you to be so forward,” he snarked, watching the younger Vampire in the cage pace. “What about the happiness clause?”

Angel’s turn to smirk. “Who is your Master, Childe?”

The younger Vampire turned sullen, yellow eyes on the pair on the other side of the bars. “I will not betray my Master.”

“But you are Childer?” Angel asked, sniffing the air once more. “Young, at that.”

The Vampire nodded. “The youngest of the line.”

“The baby,” Spike teased, smiling. “Daddy’s going to give you a whipping.”

“He might like that,” Angel commented. “So, who is your Master?”

“I will not betray,” the youngster repeated, slipping into game face and rushing the bars.

“Feisty,” Spike joked, backing up a step. “Think we can get it out of him?”

Angel fished out the key to the cage, pilfered from Willie before that interrogation began, and unlocked the doors. “I think we can get him singing show tunes from his nose in less than ten minutes.”

With that, Angel and Spike shifted to game face and entered the cage.

~~@~~@~~@~~

“You want me to send a little ball-‘o-light message, Buffy?” Willow asked excitedly, as Buffy heard the abridged version of Anya’s tale. Emma slept quietly on the couch behind them, her head cradled in the crook of Cyrus’s arm.

Buffy looked at them for a moment, calmly taking inventory of the situation. They’d been in tighter spots. “I think I can handle it.”

“Oh no you don’t,” Cordelia commented, entering the dining room from the back door, still covered in dust and ooze. “Spike’ll kill me if you leave.” She paused for a moment. “Well, no. He’ll kill Angel, but still, I’d rather put that off as long as possible.”

Buffy sighed, smiling slightly at the ooze-covered Cordelia. So much the same and so very different. That seemed to be the way. “I don’t need to go anywhere,” the Slayer finally commented.

“Oh!” Dawn exclaimed. “Does that mental telepathy thingy work that far away?”

“Mental telepathy?” Cordy asked, wiping her face with a dishtowel.

“Mental something,” Dawn mumbled, earning a swat from her sister.

“I can usually get a message across,” Buffy answered, plopping down in a dining room chair. “Just give me… ten minutes. If he’s not back in twenty, then send the light ball.”

“What do you want us to do?” Willow asked, still bouncing excitedly, the time constraint boggling her overly-organized mind.

“You,” Buffy began, pointing at Cordelia, “Go take a shower. You’re dripping demon goo. There’s a hamper in the hall closet that substitutes as a toxic waste bin. Hazard of the job.”

“And suffer your cheap shampoo,” Cordelia snarked, heading for the stairs.

“You,” Buffy continued, nodding at Anya, “go keep Giles insane. Or sane. Or whatever it is that will keep him protecting Will and the kids. Willow made a magically secret path through the back.”

“It’s lighted by little pink fireflies no one else can see,” Willow chirped, rocking forward and back. “Safe as houses.”

“How quaint,” Anya commented, heading towards the back door and grabbing another beer on her way.

“Dawn, you just… stay where Willow and Tara can see you. Who knows what kind of mystical energy you opening a portal created. You guys, all just stay and make sure nothing happens to Emma,” Buffy continued, standing up.

“Where are you going?” Dawn asked, as Buffy strode to the back door.

“Don’t get all worked up. I’m staying in the protected zone. I just need… it works best if I go somewhere where I… where we relate.” She opened the door quietly and slipped out.

The back stairs had been a place of solitude for them both for years. The place where they’d first found a truce. The place where they’d always found solace. Who knew why, but Buffy knew that, short of their bed, it was the place they always connected the most.

Not to mention, it was quiet. By now, Cordy was singing showstoppers in the master bath.

With a huff, Buffy sat down on the top stair and closed her eyes. Breathe. In. Out. In. Out. Find the thread. Find Spike.

“Need you here,” she whispered inside of her head. “Hurry. Important. Need you here. Come home.” Over and over, she repeated the words to herself, trying to express it with urgency, but without panicking her Vampire into doing something stupid.

Spike wasn’t always the most rational Vampire in panic-inducing situations.

“Come home. Hurry. Come home.”

~~@~~@~~@~~

Another wallop and the young Childe of the new Master flew back into the wall with a thump and a needless exhalation of breath.

“Nice shot, Spike,” Angel commented, asking the questions as Spike coerced the answers from the wily, aggressive little minion.

“Don’t worry, Peaches,” Spike panted, fending off a right hook and downing the Childe with a flourish, “got a few more to show you when the time’s right.”

“Don’t doubt that,” Angel commented, watching Spike hold the minion down with his boot heel to the youngster’s throat.

“You,” the minion choked out, “you let your Childer talk to you in that way?”

Spike barked another laugh. “He’s not the boss of me…”

Angel rolled his eyes. “We’re not talking about my… situation. We’re talking bout your lousy excuse for a Master. Let his youngest out to roam the town. You’re barely a decade old!”

“Eighteen!” The Vampire shouted back, gasping as Spike pushed harder on his throat.

“Oh, eighteen. That makes you high and mighty,” Spike snarked, letting the Childe up. It was more fun to fight than to just hold him still. “And you were what, twenty, when you were turned?”

“Twenty-two,” the minion responded, rushing Spike again and being tossed back like a rag doll.

“He’s not very good at this,” Spike commented to Angel as the younger Vamp slid down the wall with another thump.

“Youngest. He was protected,” Angel answered for him.

A chuckle from Spike. “Funny. Never worked that way for us.”

“We’re not *talking* about us,” Angel answered, annoyed. “Now,” he began again, walking to the minion. “Tell us about dear old dad.”

“No,” the youngster answered.

“No?” Angel questioned, slipping a vial of holy water from his coat pocket and tossing it to Spike. “You know, Spike here is… well, he’s not got the nasty allergies of most Vampires anymore.”

“Claritin for the soul,” Spike agreed. “No aversion to this stuff.” He opened the vial and let a drop fall onto his finger. Nothing happened. Nifty, Spike thought. Hadn’t tried that.

Wait, did Angel know that?

The youngest cowered just a little as Spike dropped that line of thought for the moment and strode towards him.

“So, he could, I don’t know, hold a cross against you and make you drink a keg of that stuff,” Angel continued, walking to the other side of the boy. “Or, I could beat you into oblivion. Your choice.”

Spike stopped dead, mid-stride, raising his hand to his head as if he’d come down with a sudden migraine. Did he even get migraines, Angel thought?

‘Come home. Im…hurry…home...come....’ A whisper in Spike’s brain. Almost inaudible, but he felt it more than heard it.

Buffy needed him.

“Looks like you’re going to have to beat him to a bloody pulp, Peaches,” Spike snapped, tossing the vial of holy water onto a pile of boxes.

“What is it?” Angel asked. “You all right?”

“S’Buffy,” Spike answered, still rubbing his temple and hearing her voice inside of his head. “Needs me there.”

Angel nodded, not sure how Spike knew, or what the mechanism was that bound him to the Slayer. But he didn’t doubt that Spike was telling him the truth. The blond wouldn’t pass up a good spot of righteous violence for nothing. “Go. I can handle this one.”

“Don’t,” Spike commanded, “go after his boss without me. Or at least without backup. Just…” He looked at Angel for a moment, “Buffy would never forgive me.”

Again, Angel nodded, smirking. “Didn’t know you cared.”

“Don’t get out the Hallmark card, Peaches. Still hate you,” Spike shouted as he slipped from the cage and ran for the door.

To be contd.

Title: Someone to Watch Over Me(Chapter Thirty-four - Meant to Be)

Author: Nimue

Rating: PG-13

Pairing: Spike/Buffy (Most major characters included)

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

Summary: Spike makes it back to find his trip to the unknown has been pushed up a tick. Buffy’s impatience comes to a head. Cordelia goes on a rescue mission

Someone to Watch Over Me

Spike hopped up the front steps of the house in one long stride, banging open the door without slowing.

Buffy was here. Buffy needed him.

Even before all this, he’d been at the mercy of that particular siren song.

Knowing that Spike would be in no mood to wait for the wards to drop, Willow had sent out a little magic ball of sight (a variation on her light ball), to track his progress. When he reached the corner of Revello, she had dropped the wards and unlocked the door.

With a snap of her fingers, they shot back into place.

“Where is she?” Spike asked the redhead as he strode into the living room. “If anything’s happened to her…”

“She’s okay, Spike,” Willow answered, always a little nervous when the Vampire got into one of his uber-protective modes. All of them knew he’d never hurt a one of them, but it didn’t stop the little hairs on the backs of their necks from standing on end when he was in a mood.

“S’not. She called…“ Spike snapped, continuing his mad pacing into the kitchen.

A small, soft hand touched the small of his back and he stopped dead, instantly calming. One of his. He could sense it long before he saw her.

“She’s upstairs daddy,” Emma said quietly as he turned to face her. “Waiting for us.”

Spike dropped down to a crouch and looked the child in the eye. “What’re you doing up, Mite? S’late and we’ve a lot of work to do tomorrow.”

Emma smiled softly. “We have to do it now instead,” the girl answered simply. “Aunt Anya came back and the bad men are going to do something to mum’s baby if we don’t go now. “ The child sensed the sudden panic in her father and wrapped her arms around Spike’s neck. “We’ll win. We just have to go sooner.”

Spike nodded, standing and lifting the girl with him, allowing her to wrap herself around him like a child instead of an ancient prophesy. “Better go find her then, Mite.”

As he walked through the doorway, a nagging thought entered his overworked brain. Much as he and his grandsire didn’t see eye to eye, Angel was proud, and indebted. It was likely he’d do something positively chuckleheaded in order to even that debt.

“Red?” Spike asked, stopping. “Angel’s bird still around?”

“She should be in Will’s room, settling in,” Willow answered, furrowing her brow.

“Tell her to unsettle. Grab Watcher, Jr., the big muscly bloke and one of ours. Harris. Angel’s got one of the Master’s Childer with him and he’s not stopping till he finds the git. Don’t want to live with the wrath of the prom queen if he goes it alone and comes back in an ashtray.”

Willow nodded, smiling softly. A barb about Spike giving a damn bounced on the tip of her tongue, but she swallowed it and replaced it with a grin. “I’ll tell her. Where are they?”

“Left before Angel got a location. He’s at Willie’s with the Childe. You stay here though. Need you to keep the wards on this place while Emma and me…” Spike continued.

Willow nodded her response. “Good luck.”

With a quick bounce of his head, Spike wrapped his arms tighter around his daughter and headed for the stairs.

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

Buffy paced around the bedroom, twisting her long hair between nervous fingers. Tugging on the strands. Biting her lip.

Maybe he didn’t hear. Maybe Willow should find him. Something. We have to do something.

Her hand fell to her belly and pressed tight. This was it, she felt. The last chance. Not that they could really handle any more. They may be superheroes, but they *weren’t* clinically insane. Most of the time.

But this baby… they’d wanted her so much.

Maybe Willow should find him.

With determined strides, Buffy made her way to the bedroom door just as it swung open. Spike stopped, looking at her panicked face, raising one hand to her cheek. “S’alright, Pet. “

Tears began to fall down her cheeks. “We’re running out of time.”

“We’ll make it,” Spike answered, sparing a glance out of the window. Noticing the moon sinking toward the horizon. “Got a bit of time yet.”

Buffy nodded. “How?”

“Mite’ll have to show us,” Spike answered, feeling Emma shift and lift her head from his shoulder.

“I know the way,” the little girl whispered warily. “But daddy and I have to go alone.”

Buffy’s eyes opened wide. “Not both of us? Why, Emma? I need to… I need…” Her words trailed off in desperation and despair.

Emma turned her head to look softly at her mum. “You won’t be able to make the choice,” the girl answered firmly, yet sweetly. “You won’t be able to say goodbye.”

“Goodbye?” Buffy asked. “I don’t want to lose…”

“There will be loss,” Emma answered, a frown marring her pretty, young face. “There will be more. There is always a loss.”

Spike closed his eyes, allowing himself to think of Dru. About loss. About love. About things that are gone for good.

“I can handle that,” Buffy commented, unconvincingly.

Emma smiled, leaning over to kiss her mother’s cheek. “You can, mum. But you shouldn’t. Daddy will have to go.”

Buffy looked at Spike, part of her angry that she was again being pushed away from the battle. Part of her wondering if Spike could handle any more loss at all at the moment. All of her wanting to be with them, even through hell.

But Spike nodded his agreement with his daughter. “Love, s’best we listen to the tot, all right? Not a lot of time left and this is her arena. We don’t know what’ll be there. “

Buffy opened her mouth in protest, but shut it again when Spike closed his eyes and began to speak. “Don’t want to take any more chances, Pet. Not with you. Can’t lose you.”

“You can stay with us, mum,” Emma whispered, pointing toward the bed. “Make sure the bad men don’t come to take this part while we’re gone.” The girl poked her skin and her father’s cheek. “So we can come home.”

With a sigh, Buffy agreed, walking over to the bed with her husband and child. “Nothing will happen to you while you’re gone, baby,” Buffy whispered, kissing the top of the girl’s head as she lay down in the middle of the bed. “I’ll make sure.”

Emma nodded, settling her head onto the pillows and watching her parents. Spike leaned over, pressing his lips softly to Buffy’s. “I’ll watch out for her, Pet.”

Buffy nodded, eyes filling again. “And I’ll watch over you.”

He smiled, caressing her cheek with his palm, his thumb tracing her cheekbone. “I know you will, Love.”

“Make it okay?” Buffy pleaded, her hand pressing to her belly, her eyes growing wet again. “Please.”

Spike leaned down and kissed her hand, then rose again, pressing his lips to hers. “Won’t lose a one of you, all right? I promise. Won’t let them take what’s ours.”

Buffy nodded, knowing Spike didn’t make promises lightly. “Better go.”

Another kiss and Spike stretched back onto the bed, taking his daughter’s hand. The little girl nestled into her father, resting her head on the crook of his shoulder and reaching out for her mother. Buffy stretched out on the opposite side, raising her broken arm above her on the pillow and stretching her good one over them both. “I’ll keep watch.”

Emma smiled, her eyes drifting closed. Spike took one last, long look at her, and his blue eyes disappeared into darkness.

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

A soft knock on the door roused Cordelia from her moisturizing ritual. “What?” She whined, shifting in her satin boy-shorts and swinging her head to the door.

Willow gathered her courage and entered. “Hey, Cordy.”

“Hi,” Cordelia answered, returning to her nightly ritual. “What’s up?”

“Um… Spike’s back and…”

“Did Angel come with him?” The dark haired beauty asked, stopping everything and facing the little witch.

Willow shook her head. “He came back alone. He’s with Emma now going to the soul place…”

“Where’s Angel?” Cordy asked, sensing something about to go horribly wrong.

“Spike told me to get you and tell you that he was at Willie’s. They caught one of the Master’s … children?”

“Childer,” Cordelia corrected, finding jeans in her oversized suitcase. “Sorry, been around Vampires too long.”

Willow smiled softly, watching the girl rummage, her hands working a mile a minute. “Spike wanted me to tell you that he’s likely to do something really dumb if…”

“Yeah, this is Angel. Hero with no brain,” Cordy chided, throwing on a low v-neck t-shirt and grabbing some stakes from the front pocket of the suitcase.

A chuckle from Willow. “This Master guy is a new breed, from all accounts. Not what we’re used to. And Angel was pretty ticked that another Master…”

“Came into Spike’s territory, yada yada, insult to the Order, yada yada. Got it. Anyone else available?”

“Spike said to…” Willow began again.

“Do you *all* listen to Spike?” Cordy snapped, heading towards the door, Willow racing after her.

“Well, except Buffy. He’s usually right. Scary as that thought is,” the redhead answered, still chasing Cordelia down the corridor.

A flash of light burst from beneath the door of Buffy’s room and Cordy stopped, slamming back against the wall and out of the way. Once the pulse faded, Cordelia looked back at Willow with stunned eyes. “Spike came back to have sex? Is it *always* a light show?”

Willow rolled her eyes. “I’m betting that was the portal to the land of souls opening. Which means we should probably stay away and that Spike, Buffy and Emma are out of the picture for the rest of the night.”

“Got it,” Cordy said, still slack-jawed at the faint glow coming from under the door. “Never knew having prophetic kids was such a… Fourth of July parade.”

“Fun never stops,” Willow shot back.

Cordy bounded towards the staircase again. “Who do we have available?”

“I called over to Xander’s. Wesley, Charles and Xander should be here any minute,” Willow answered, going through her mental checklist.

“Magical. Need the magick,” Cordelia continued. “Wes’s good, but we need power. He’s more of… a finesse kinda guy.”

“I’ve got to stay here,” Willow countered. “I promised Spike that…”

An eye roll from the dark haired girl. “Spike this, Spike that…”

“He saved our lives, Cordelia,” Willow snapped, interrupting the girl. “I promised to make sure nothing happened to the people in the house while he and Buffy were gone.”

Cordelia stopped and looked at the redhead for a long moment before delivering a brief nod. “I get that.”

“Anya has a lot of power, although it’s raw,” Willow said after a moment.

“She looked like she’d been to hell and back,” Cordy answered, gathering some more supplies into a bag. “Maybe because she had.”

“She’d go,” the Witch answered quietly. “She always does.”

Cordelia shook her head. “As totally squicky as this sounds, she deserves some downtime with Giles.”

A deep breath and the gathering of courage, “I can ask Tara?”

Recognizing that it was a tough choice to send people that you love into the breech, but knowing they’d need back-up, Cordelia nodded respectfully. “We’ll keep her protected.”

“You’d better,” Willow said simply, turning towards the basement and running down to talk to her mate.

“Gah! I hate all this drama,” Cordy whined, waiting for the rest to arrive.

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

Angel strode up the street, anger bubbling in his veins. A sick kind of amusement as well. He should have thought of this, really. I mean, it was kind of strangely ironic, like the whole of Angel’s existence, that the new Master would take up residence where the old Master of the city had called home.

Didn’t really need to pummel the insolent Childe into hamburger meat. But it had been fun. Angel may be souled, but he was still a Vampire and more like his grandchilde than he’d admit.

After toying with the Childe, breaking down his emotional defenses and turning him into a whimpering heap, Angel started with the fun. Spike wouldn’t have agreed to all the taunting, though. The blond was always more fists and fangs and ‘sod all else’. But there was something so… exhilarating… about making a creature of the night cry like a child.

Okay, so Cordy and Buffy had mastered that without any conventional torture, but still…

The actual thrashing hadn’t taken long. The Childe wasn’t made of much at this stage of his existence. Angel had been more than kind and stopped the beating as soon as the location of the Master had been gained. He left the young one in the cage at Willie’s in case he’d been lying or if they needed more information.

Likely, Spike would have just had done with him. But Spike was never one to think about the big picture.

Angel turned the familiar corner and started up Crawford St., taking long, deliberate strides. He needed time to think. Time to make a plan. If he was going to do this alone, he needed to be sure that…

“What the *HELL* do you think you’re doing?” A familiar voice, full of venom, hissed from behind him.

Angel stopped, feeling much like he had when he was a child and his drunkard father was about to give him what for. Except this would be worse. “I…”

“Don’t *I* me, mister,” Cordelia snapped, heels clicking against the sidewalk as she approached. “Spike warned us what you might do. I wanted to think, ‘no, Angel’s not *that* dumb’ but I knew better.”

“I…”

“Did I say you could talk?” Cordy asked, venom still dripping from her lips. The rest of the posse stood still behind her, torn between laughing hysterically and running in fear. “And sure enough, here you are, about to go to some big boy Vamp’s lair to get your ass kicked and leave me with the mess of Angel Investigations. Do you know how much back rent we owe?”

“Cordy, I…”

A look shut Angel up as simply as a word.

“This guy almost got the better of Spike and Buffy together. I know you’re all big and bad and hero-like, but let’s not be a *complete* moron. The least you could have done is thought it out. Let us know. We work together, Angel, not…”

“How did you know to come here, Cordy?” Angel asked, a brow lifting as he considered it.

Cordelia furrowed her brow, chuckling. “Well, duh. Where else would a Master Vampire set up than the house of the last broody Master Vampire in town? Since Spike’s living that whole alternative lifestyle and all…”

God, Angel thought, that girl could make him feel dumb.

But he loved her anyway. She was here because he needed her. She was always there when he needed her. And, despite all the times he’d tried to get her to leave because he’d never be what she needed, she stuck by him like a stylish little ankle nipper and ruled his world.

And his heart.

“So, unlike you, oh heroic-yet-brainless-do-gooder, I brought in some back up,” the prom queen stated, gesturing behind her. She watched Angel smile at her and had to return it. “So, we going to kick some Master’s ass or what?”

“I’m with the ass-kicking,” Gunn commented.

“Not that watching Cordelia publicly humiliate you hasn’t been fun,” Xander chimed in.

“We’d better go,” Wesley commented, hiding a smile.

“Dumb ass,” Cordelia mumbled, taking Angel’s hand and heading up the street, their family in tow.

To be contd.