Title: Heart and Soul - New Life Part 11.

Author: Nimue

Rating: PG-13

Feedback: Yes, please

Disclaimer: All characters owned by Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, UPN, Fox

etc..... Just borrowing.

Summary: The Scoobies try to figure out a way to save Buffy. Buffy gets

closer to finding Spike. Spike is forced to face the consequences of his demon soul.

Heart and Soul

Giles dropped the book onto the familiar round table in the Magic Box.

"I've been through the Tarangi texts three times now," he said, frustration rushing out with his breath. Anya, Xander and Tara looked up from their respective research. "And I see the point. I understand *how* this can happen now." The frustration was spelled out in the lines of his furrowed brow. "But there does not seem to be any indication of how to prevent..."

"Maybe four's a charm," Tara interrupted, banishing negativity with one

serene smile.

Giles nervously smiled back at the girl. "I'm not saying that there is no way. Only that it is not here."

"Has anyone talked to Will?" Xander asked, fidgeting with the pages of the book in front of him. No one really wanted to have her so intimately connected with them. She wasn't one of them anymore. But other than Giles, she was the most likely to crack this mystery. Right now, patience was more important than pride.

"I'll call her," Giles said, rising from his seat and heading across the

room toward the phone.

*****

Buffy's eyes flickered open. Leaves were falling all around her like pale green snow. The sleep had awakened her. The drink had made her stronger. The girl had comforted her. Spike was alive. In her heart, she knew it.

A rustle in the leaves startled Buffy into reality. The girl ducked under the thick canopy holding the chalice in one hand, and an object wrapped in cloth in the other. As the girl came closer, she unwrapped the cloth to unveil a large chunk of bread. Where was the girl finding this stuff?, Buffy thought. She worried, nibbling her lip, wondering if it was even OK to eat.

At this point, she rationalized, she would die of starvation if she did

not take the chance.

The girl leaned down, helping Buffy up and feeding her the bread. Buffy had no idea exactly how hungry she had been until the food slid down her throat and the first taste of it set her stomach into a storm of growls. She ate every bite, savoring the taste of honey that had been spread thinly over the meal. The drink was like nectar and she could feel the strength burning back into her muscles.

"Thank you," Buffy said as the girl helped her to her feet. The Peacemaker was just a bit taller than Buffy, and even in the relative daylight, she glowed with an eerie incandescent beauty. She was so familiar. So dear and sweet and light. She had no clue why she trusted the girl, felt comfort, felt joy in her presence. The simple fact was, she did. Just as she felt when she was near Spike.

"Are you going to tell me who you are and why you are helping me?" Buffy asked, slipping into interrogation mode. The girl simply smiled.

"I thought I had answered that much last night," she remarked, leading Buffy from under the tangle of branches. The girl's small fingers were twined in Buffy's like the yin and yang. The match of two kindred hearts.

"Well, you said something all-knowing like about being the Peacemaker and about Spike and me protecting you. But it doesn't make much sense." They stepped out into the full sunlight and began to walk again.

"You will have your answers," the girl repeated the words she had said the night before.

"When?" Buffy asked simply.

"Are you always this difficult to those who try and help you?" the girl

asked, looking at Buffy and smiling almost sarcastically.

Buffy thought for a moment and smiled back. "Yeah"

*****

"Willow?"

"Yes?" she answered, surprised to hear Giles on the other end of the phone.

"I'm afraid that we have hit a dead end of sorts with ... well, with the

situation with Buffy." Giles stuttered, not really knowing exactly what to say. The other end of the phone was silent for a long moment.

"Will you let me help?" a broken female voice asked. Giles could almost see the tears on the redhead's cheeks as they spoke.

"Please," Giles said simply.

"I think I have some information that might help. Not much though. Should I come there?"

Giles looked over at the table to find his three charges staring silently at him. Desperation set in. "Yes, that will be fine. Please bring whatever you have with you."

"I'll be there in half an hour," Willow answered, hanging up the phone

before Giles could change his mind.

*****

Spike walked the rows of tombstones for what seemed like an eternity.

Staring at names. Staring at dates. The enormity of his hunger, his demon, was overwhelming. God, some of them were so young, he thought. Even younger than I. He stopped at every one, silently asking for forgiveness. The one thing he never dreamed to have. What the old woman had said stuck in his mind. Even if every one of these people, every one their death effected, could say that they forgave him, that they understood *why*, could he forgive himself?

He walked past the tombstone of a man. Roger Davis. 1860-1889. Next to him was Susanna Humphries. 1865-1889. Spike stopped, remembering a pair of star crossed lovers he had killed in London in a fit of hunger and fear and frustration. They were in an alley, their lips pressing hungrily together, their hands entwined in a lover's knot. When Spike had fed on Roger, Susanna had not moved. She stood, paralyzed by fear. And when he was through and approached the girl, she offered her neck. He was full and had intended to let her go. But she offered her creamy white neck to him.

Spike had asked her why. Because there is no life without him, she had

answered. And he drank for mercy. She had felt for her lover how Spike now felt for Buffy. How he dreamed that Buffy felt for him. In that act, he had killed them both.

Every stone had a name, but not every one had a face. The fact that he

could not remember even a fraction of the lives he stole was almost worse than the killing. His once dead heart ached at every marble remembrance. At every well tended plot. At every flower on every grave and he thought about what he had done. It did not take a soul to realize the meaning of it all. Only a heart.

"How you feeling, pal?" Luke said, stepping into the meadow. Spike had

wound his way back to where he had begun. He always ended up back at

Buffy's feet. Spike looked at the hell god and saw emptiness. The nature of the beast.

There was no answer to Luke's question. Spike did not know how he was

feeling. He did not know where one emotion ended and the next began. It was a knot of despair and mourning and loss and desperation and yearning. He needed Buffy. Needed to fall into her arms and break into a thousand tiny pieces. She should have staked him years ago. He should have let her.

"Well, I'll take that as a 'Just fine, Luke. Ready to go hang out on the wall.'," Luke said, grabbing Spike's elbow and yanking him away from the graves of his love and their child. Spike was too broken to resist. He deserved to hang there until the world came to an end.

*****

"When I was researching the texts," Willow began, "I thought that since no Slayer had survived this... situation... there was probably nothing there about how to help them survive. No one knows."

"Will, on to the positive stuff," Xander said, rolling his hand for her to continue.

"Right," the redhead answered. "So, I did the only thing I could think of and went back to plain old mid-wifing." Willow opened a text in front of her. "In the old days, before hospitals and stuff, women had their babies in their caves or huts or homes even. So, I researched some of the methods used to ensure safe births.."

"Willow," Tara said softly, "This is not an ordinary birth though. Do you think that a basic ritual will have any effect?"

"Well," Willow began, "No. But what I did find was a protection spell that was used in births involving high priestesses in Europe. The mortality rate among these women and their children had been very high due to the intense magical involvement. But once the spell was tapped into, it all but stopped. I know it is not *exactly* the same, but it is the closest I could come." She finished, pushing the book towards Giles.

Giles pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose and stared down at the printed page, absorbing the words into his mind. He thought for a moment, his eyes growing wider by the word.

"Wha..What is it, Giles?" Tara said. She had watched him nervously,

feeling his concern radiate from every pore.

Giles looked up from the book. "The spell," he began, "may well be

effective. However it is very complicated and can only be performed by

females and in the company of females. Which, I'm afraid, leaves me out."

"And me," Xander contributed. "Being not so female.... and not so magical."

"Well, I don't want to see a smushy, red, slimy baby. I want to see it when it's clean and smells like soap," Anya contributed.

"Quite all right, Anya," Giles said. "The magics are far to intricate for anyone but a very powerful sorceress." All eyes turned to Willow.

"I can do this, Giles," the redheaded girl said,

"I know you can," Giles answered, "but do we trust you to do it is the

bigger issue."

The room was silent. No. They didn't. But Willow was the only one of them strong enough to pull it off. Tara had understandably shied away from magic since Willow had gone mad. Willow was a natural. "I need to help," Willow said simply. "If I can save Buffy and her baby, then maybe it will help make up for... Help you believe me..."

Tears streamed down her face for the thousandth time that day. Always

tears. Xander and Anya looked down. Tara was torn between comfort and

fear. Giles sighed painfully. "You understand, Willow, that this spell

involved invoking Gaea herself. Mother Earth. Connecting with one of the single most powerful sources and accepting what she takes from you in payment."

"Yes," Willow answered. " I can do it. I have to do it, Giles."

"Right then. Anya, please start collecting the supplies on this page."

"Who's going to pay for them?" Anya asked, taking the book. Xander looked at her, shaking his head.

"Put them on my tab," Giles answered. "Willow, you will need help. Tara?"

"I will be there," Tara answered, smiling softly at Willow. Willow looked down, a blush of hope on her cheeks.

"What about me?" Xander asked.

"You and I need to patrol and then baby sit," Giles said, beginning to rise from the chair again.

"The manly and the not so manly," Xander responded, getting up with him.

"Oh, Giles?" Willow said, touching the man's hand as he passed her chair.

"What is it Willow?" Giles responded, stopping next to her.

Willow reached into her backpack and fished out a desk. " I found this

while I was doing research and got a really funny feeling from it."

"What is it?" Giles asked, turning it over in his hands.

"It's a computer disk," Anya said, looking over Giles' shoulder as she

walked past.

"I know that, Anya," Giles retorted. Anya shrugged, walking off.

"It..it was one of Jenny's," Willow said softly. A dark cloud seemed to

settle over the Watcher's face at just the sound of her name. "She was into some very not so mainstream, not so mainstream magical stuff. Anyway, when I was looking for information for Buffy, I cross referenced something odd called Pax. I remembered seeing this in Jenny's files. I looked through her disk and found a file labeled Pax. I tried to read it, but Jenny had only translated the first paragraph or two. Looks like she thought it had something to do with Angel."

"Some kind of prophecy?" Giles asked, flipping the yellow disk over in his hand.

"Hard to say," Willow answered. "It is in some sort of runes I haven't seen much of before and I could not find a translation matrix. But I read what she had gone through so far, and I don't think it was about Angel. She may have thought it was, but she translated a word wrong."

"What do you mean, Will?" Xander asked, looking down at her.

"It starts out talking about nobility... blah blah... prophesy that will

change the course of all worlds... blah blah... end the wars between the

dimensions. Bridge the gap between man and beast. Then a lot that had no translation. Then a bit about a vampire. Jenny had translated the section 'and he of the kingdom of the undead, the vampire with a soul, will help bring forth...', but when I looked at it, I recognized one word. Saw it somewhere else before."

"Which one?" Tara asked.

"Soul." Willow answered. "It doesn't read 'the vampire with a soul.'"

"What does it read?" Xander asked, leaning on the back of Willow's chair.

"The vampire with a 'heart'," she answered.

"Spike."

to be contd.

Title: The Rules of the Game. (New Life - pt 12)

Author: Nimue

Rating: PG-13

Feedback: Yes, please

Disclaimer: All characters belong to Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, UPN, Fox... Just Borrowing.

Summary: Buffy reaches her destination. Will she be able to rescue Spike and leave Hell?

The Rules of the Game

Buffy clung to the girl's hand as if it were the only thing tethering her to her sanity. It seemed so odd. The Peacemaker was younger, small almost to the point of being frail, but she seemed to carry the wisdom and strength of countless centuries in her eyes. Those pretty, ancient, blue eyes.

"I will take you to the door," the Peacemaker whispered in her melodic

voice, "but you will have to go the distance on your own."

"You know where the red house is? You know where Spike is?" Buffy asked, her heart suddenly pounding in her chest.

"Yes," the girl replied simply.

"Is he... alive... I mean.."

"Yes," she said again. "But he is changed Buffy. This place changes

everyone."

"How?" Buffy stuttered. A million thoughts went through her head. He's

changed. He's evil. He wants to stay here. He doesn't care anymore. He doesn't love me. Doesn't love us. Yet another one Buffy scared away.

"He's breaking," the Peacemaker answered quietly. The words sounded like heartbreak must sound. The girl looked up, staring at the surreal blue sky.

"Breaking?" Buffy asked. "Like into pieces?"

The girl smiled despite herself. "Not quite. If a demon enters this place and refuses its ways, Luke breaks the demon. Takes its reluctance and plays it like a lyre."

"Ok, where I'm from that is not an answer," Buffy retorted.

"Luke has shown Spike things. Done things to try and break what it is that keeps him from his demon soul."

"Like?" Buffy asked, stepping over a large screaming rock. Funny how she barely noticed the screaming now.

"His heart," the girl answered.

"His... heart?"

"Spike," the Peacemaker began, "is truly a Vampire. No human soul, as you know it. But he has done something that few other Vampires, no other Vampires, have been able to do."

"What?" Buffy asked, wide-eyed. " I mean other than..." She looked down at her bulging abdomen.

"Choose to tame the beast. Choose to live like a human. Choose to deny his true nature and let his heart, his vulnerability rise above. His love, Buffy, not just for you but for humanity is killing the demon soul. Replacing it with something else. Quite successfully at that, I might add."

Buffy stopped, looking at the girl for a long moment. "So, he's becoming more human?"

"He's made a choice," the girl answered, "that his heart, his love, you, are more important than his basic self. He can never be truly human. But he has chosen to behave that way of his own will. Luke knows this and Luke also knows that breaking his heart is the key."

"I'm not sure I understand all of this. Not everything." Buffy stuttered. Hunger, anticipation, fear, clouding her mind.

"You will have your answers, but there are more important things to tend

to." With that, the enormous red mansion appeared in front of them. Buffy stared at it in awe and terror, her hand clutching tighter around the girl's fingers.

"What do I have to do?" Buffy asked, her fear being overcome by resolution. He was here. He was alive. She could feel him.

"There are few rules," the Peacemaker said, placing her hand on the Slayer's chin and turning Buffy's faces towards hers. "There will not be much of a fight. You are not the Slayer here. Your strength will win you no battles."

"So what then?" Buffy asked. Afraid. Frustrated. Impatient.

"Be strong. Be courageous. Be honest. Those are your weapons. Remember that little of what you see here is real. When the time comes, you will know the answer."

Buffy nodded, not really understanding but desperate to get underway.

Gently, she lifted her skirt to start up the stairs.

"Buffy?" the girl called after her.

"Yeah," Buffy answered, craning her head.

"Sometimes you have to make a deal with the devil. Make sure to ask for his word in blood. Luke is a terrible liar."

Buffy nodded, again, not quite understanding. Didn't matter much. Spike was in there. He needed her. Buffy climbed the stairs to the front door and looked back. The Peacemaker was gone.

*****

Spike hung bonelessly against the chains. No witty banter. No daring plans for escape. No wishing for rescue. Who was he fooling? He got his good and proper sentence and this is where he'd stay. Not demon enough to be here, not human enough for salvation. That's what you get for straddling the fence, mate, he thought.

Something moved in the dark basement. Spike's eyes slowly opened, but

nothing was there. He let them swim shut again. Probably some little hell beastie in the shadows waiting for an opportune moment to rip apart my hide, he thought.

He smelled vanilla and his eyes flickered open again. Nothing. Emptiness.

"Spike?" A restless whisper in his ear. Warm breath on his cheek. The

girl.

"Where are you, love?" he whispered, feeling quite insane speaking to the thick, dank air.

"Do not talk," she said and he felt his restraints loosen. Unseen hands

held his arms in place. "Do not move. When the time comes, you can pull free." She felt him begin to speak, the lightning rumble in his throat before the words were formed. "Do not speak," she chastised. His mouth snapped shut. "She is here. Luke will have her soon. There is no way to avoid it, I'm afraid. He will bring her here to hurt you both. She will be very, very frightened." Spike's face slackened. Not this. This he could not bear. "No matter what you see, Spike, you must go. Without hesitation. Do you understand?"

Spike moved again to speak, but thought better of it. Slowly, he nodded.

"Trust me," the girl whispered.

*****

Buffy stood in front of the door, staring at the heavy wood. The shade of red. It was nothing she had ever seen in nature. Should she knock? Barge in? Was there a doorbell? Fear had always set off stupid questions and sarcastic remarks in her mind. Defense mechanism. If you can't slay it, annoy it to death.

The question answered itself as the heavy door creaked on its hinges and a small man in a red suit appeared. Like a tiny evil Santa, Buffy

thought, realizing how odd it was before she even finished thinking it.

"Ms. Summers?" the little man said.

"You can call me Buffy," she answered.

"Please come in," Evil mini Santa stepped from the door, allowing her safe passage. Well, passage, at least.

The entrance hall was enormous. Marble floors covered in red carpet. Odd statues in even odder poses along the corridor. Enormous mirrors on every wall. The house gave off a strange vibration, one that made the dragon coiled around her spine squeeze that much tighter and that made her child stir within her womb.

"This way please," the man said. Buffy did not really want to follow, but trying to fight the little man who had said nothing but pleasantries and politeness didn't really seem the optimal thing to do. Slowly, she padded barefoot after him, her toes sinking into the carpet. It felt sticky, like blood.

"Where are we going?" Buffy asked as they weaved through halls and

corridors, past room after endless room. If nothing else, the trip was

making her feet ache and keeping her from remembering which way was out.

"Master Luke would like to see you now."

"Wasn't he that Star Wars guy," Buffy chuckled. Why did such random things go through her head?, she wondered.

The little man stopped, shooting a warning glance at her that, at his

height, sizzled right about chest high. " The master does not take kindly to jokes."

"Oh," Buffy said, nodding sarcastically. "My bad."

They stopped at a room with an enormous set of double doors. Red, of

course. The man had no originality. "Wait here," evil Santa said, darting into the room. She could hear humble murmurings and various and assorted groveling before the doors swung completely open.

The room looked as if it had been stolen from a honeymoon suite in Vegas. Enormous red plush couches. Heart shaped bed. Fireplaces glowing in each corner of the room. Ooh, and even a martini glass shaped hot tub. Always a sign of class.

Buffy stood in the doorway. Suddenly, just like everything else in this

dimension, a man appeared in front of her. He was tall, beautifully built, with short rakish dark hair, long black eyelashes and deep brown eyes. His suit was well fitted and clung to him in almost an undeniably appealing way. Not at all what she had been expecting. Guess it makes sense that a hell god is hot, Buffy thought. She groaned at herself.

"Hi," Luke said, stretching out his hand. "I'm Luke and I'm guessing you're Buffy."

"Master of the obvious," she said, avoiding his hand.

"Just as impolite as your little Vamp," Luke said, grabbing Buffy's

shoulder. At first the touch was gentle, but he began to squeeze until she felt a pop and a sharp pain radiate down her arm. She wrenched herself away.

"Speaking of, " Buffy began, trying to ignore the fact that she thought that her arm might spontaneously fall off her shoulder. "I'd kind of like to see him."

"What makes you think I'll let you?" Luke asked.

Buffy thought for a moment. Because I need to tell him I love him? Because I need to see his face? Because my baby needs a father? Buffy chuckled to herself. How well would that go over? "Because I want to kick his ass for leaving me high and dry with his little demon spawn." Buffy answered.

"Might like you after all," Luke said. Buffy sighed imperceptibly with

relief. "This way,"

Luke chattered incessantly as they walked through the maze of corridors.

About humans and the Earth and how sorry all the little pansies were for

living there. How Willie, which Buffy finally figured out was Spike, was an even bigger pansy because he chose to be a wussy-little-human-wanna-be rather than be true to his breed. Buffy agreed with Luke on every count. If it would help her find Spike, she would agree to Martha Stewart being a hell god from a neighboring dimension and chicken snot being a tasty appetizer. Hmm... food.

Finally, they came to a dark brown oak door. Luke stopped and Buffy skidded to a halt next to him, almost too caught up in agreeing with his little tirade to notice. "This is our stop," Luke said, putting his hand on the knob. Buffy exhaled, her heart racing as if she was about to go on her first date. Long past that, she thought, hand instinctively pressing on her belly, feeling the baby throw a right hook into her palm. Buffy looked up at Luke and saw his countenance shift from annoying but basically pleasant to something dark, hollow, empty.

"Think I believe a word you say, bi**h," Luke said. Buffy felt a sharp pain at the back of her skull and crumpled to the floor.

To be contd.

Title: Going Home (New Life- pt 15)

Author: Nimue

Rating: PG-13

Feedback: Yes, please

Disclaimer: All characters belong to Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, UPN, Fox... Just Borrowing.

Summary: What can I say? Buffy and Spike finally find each other again.

Going Home

The wind stopped. The spinning world was silent. Empty. Cold. A shiver shot down her back making her entire body convulse against the cold walls around her. Everything hurt. Her head, her arms, her hands, her legs, her belly was ripping apart. She shuddered again, cold sweat rushing down her neck, mixing with the blood, washing in crimson rivers down her spine.

Buffy let her eyes flutter open. Blackness. Cold, black, emptiness.

Nothing. The world, every world, was gone. She was too tired to cry.

Instead, she squeezed her eyes tightly shut. At least in her mind she had something left to hold on to.

*****

The run to the cemetery from the schoolyard seemed to last forever. Trees flew past along with cars, dogs, mailboxes. Breathing was inconvenient, as was the explosive rhythm in his chest. No time for this. Can play 'Wonders of Anatomy' when I find Buffy, he thought. Not now. Home.

Spike almost fell, he turned so fast through the cemetery gates. Half of him was still expecting to see two headstones. One larger, one smaller. The stronger half kept running. Needing to get home. To wait for her there.

The door. He could see it. Only a few more steps. His legs were burning, but he kept moving, his hands meeting with the thick wood of the door, barging through as she had so many times before. Sunlight flooded the room and he stopped dead.

His crypt was exactly how he left it. The TV, the books, the fridge. There was no dust. No cobwebs. No new residents. She had been here. Regularly, from the looks of things. Her smell flooded him. Lavender and jasmine and honeysuckle whirling together, smacking into him. He had left her there alone. The realization was ripping his beating heart in two.

"Buffy?" Spike called out, stepping further into the crypt. "Buffy? You here, Pet? Please answer me."

Her smell was everywhere. Every inch of every wall. Every plank, every

cushion, every rug. Spike began to walk along the edges of the room,

feeling the cold stone trail beneath his fingertips. Nothing. He lit a

candle he found by the door. It was half melted. Time to get a new one, he thought.

"I love you, Spike.."

He spun on one heel, staring around the room. Empty. The boiling tears

came again. "I left you. I promised I'd never leave... Buffy?" he

muttered hysterically, his hand unconsciously sliding along the stone as he walked. "Buffy?" He was at the ladder to the lower level, descending to their room. God, she's everywhere, he thought.

Again the wall, trailing his hands. " I never knew how cold it was. Why didn't you tell me, Love?" Around the perimeter, every inch. Empty. Spike stared over at the bed, almost afraid to look, afraid to think he would never spend another night curled around her, exploring her, always finding something new. The blanket was rumpled and a pillow was hanging over the side. "She slept here," he whispered in amazement. "God, she stayed here." Slowly he sat on the edge, pulling the pillow to his chest, clinging, smelling her hair, her sweat, her tears, her essence. He couldn't have held back if he tried. "I'm so sorry, love. I'm sorry." Sobbing, hitching words.

He tried to steel himself, to focus and plan, but all he could do was think of what he had done. Let go. Let go of her. Spike tried to breathe, closing his eyes, pulling air in, blowing it out, but nothing was easy.

Nothing would ever be easy.

Spike noticed a pad of paper by the bed. Wiping his eyes, he leaned to the bedside table and slid the tablet into his lap.

I love you, Spike.

Pages upon pages. Over and Over. Night after night.

"No!" He tossed the pillow back to the bed, clutching the papers to his

aching, pounding chest. "No, Buffy." He fell to his knees sobbing

outright, his body shaking from its very core.

A tiny noise, just a sigh, caught his ear. Spike stopped, his mouth

snapping shut, tuning out everything but the faint mewling sound. It was a horrible, desperate, lonely moan. He stood, following the barely audible noise through the bedroom, out the back entrance and into the tunnels below. Suddenly, the noise choked to a stop.

"Buffy?" He was trying to control his voice, which was wavering between

terror and elation. "Love, where are you?" He heard a painful little groan and ran.

She was curled within a niche in the rock, a tight little ball of flesh and blood and blonde hair. Spike ran to her, not quite believing that she was real. She was whimpering like a wounded child, hiding in a closet. "Oh God, Buffy," he whispered, skidding to his knees next to her, grabbing her shoulders. She moaned softly and he felt her shoulder loosely pop.

Spontaneously, the tears began again, as he put an arm under her legs, the other under her back and lifted her limp body to his chest.

"Buffy?" he whispered, showering her face with gentle kisses. "You with me, Pet?"

Her eyes flickered, straining to open, never fully making it.

"Spike?" The tiniest breath of a whisper. He smiled at her, his tears raining on her pale cheeks.

"Yeah, it's me, Love," Spike answered, beginning back toward the crypt.

"But you're gone."

"No. I'm right here. I won't ever leave you again."

Buffy said nothing for a long moment, just listening to his boots hit the stone floor, feeling his arms around her. Spike thought she had drifted back out. "I love you, Spike," she whispered.

He paused, a breath catching in his throat. " I know, Pet. I love you

too."

*****

Buffy awoke slowly, a brutal pain overtaking every inch of her body. She bit her lip, drawing blood, letting the pain wash over her like a wave. At least I know I'm alive, she thought. Spike was sitting by her legs with a bowl of water and a washcloth, gently cleaning the wounds on her legs and hands. Buffy flinched, the muscles in her calf contracting as he brushed over a particularly livid mark.

"Oooowww," Buffy whimpered, pulling her leg away.

"Be a big girl," Spike answered, smiling up at her, relieved that she was awake. She had been out a long time and he had debated taking her to hospital.

"It *hurts*," she whined softly, but she could tell that her healing powers were back and she could feel all of the wounds closing.

"How's the shoulder?" Spike slid up the bed next to her, stretching like a cat, lying on his side pressed against her. Buffy wriggled, testing it out.

"Ouchy, but better."

"Had to do a little bone popping there. Glad you were out for that." He was unconsciously brushing his hands over her soft cheek. She closed her eyes, drinking him in. "God, I missed touching you," he purred, his lips brushing against her face.

Buffy's eyes flew open in shock. "You... you're warm!" she yelped, grabbing his hand and holding it between her own. He smiled down on her again as she slid her small fingers down to his wrist. "You have a heartbeat?!"

"Seems our little trip had some side effects," Spike commented, pressing his lips against her cheek again.

"Hu..human, Spike?" Buffy whispered, pushing him back so she could look at his eyes.

"No, Love. Still fangy Vampire Spike. Just with a few modifications, it seems."

Buffy reached her hand out, pressing it to his chest, closing her eyes,

feeling the rhythm of his heart synch with hers. A grin played on her lips, which broke to a broad smile. " I like this," she whispered, pressing her ear to his chest. His arms wrapped around her shoulders lightly as she snuggled in. "Spike's a real boy now," she giggled.

He chuckled despite himself. "I'm not sure if I should be honored or

offended, Pet. Thought I was doing just fine by you before."

Buffy's face slackened, but the grin was still barely there. "Please tell me that the whole Vampire stamina thing is still.. ya know.."

Spike chuckled again. "Might have to learn to regulate the whole ticker so that I don't have an inadvertent heart attack from you, but I think you'll be more than happy with me when the time comes," he said, brushing his lips against hers. She melted into his arms again, pressing her head back into his chest.

"Good," she whispered, her body going soft against him. He tightened his grip on her, holding her against him, listening to her breathing and her heart. She drifted back off, still with a devious grin on her face.

****

Buffy screamed, startling Spike from his half slumber. It was a horrifying, terrible, ear splitting howl as if someone had driven a stake through her heart. He bolted upright, shaking his head to clear the cobwebs from his sleeping mind.

"Buffy?" he asked, his heart beating overtime now. "Nightmare, Love?"

"Something's wrong!" she panted, her hands clutching white knuckled at the bed sheets. She screamed again, writhing against the agony.

"What is it, Pet?" he said grabbing her hand. Her fingernails immediately sunk into his skin, drawing blood. "Arms, head, legs, help me here," he asked, taking inventory of all of her injured parts.

"Got to get to Giles, Willow..." she breathed, her hand clenching his like a vice.

"What? Why? Buffy, What's wrong?" She was sweating and white as a ghost. For a moment, he thought he might lose her again. The look on her face was sheer terror.

"Baby," she whispered, promptly passing out against the pillows.

"Bloody *hell*!"

to be contd.

Title: Goodbye Again (New Life- pt 16)

Author: Nimue

Rating: PG-13

Feedback: Yes, please

Disclaimer: All characters belong to Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, UPN, Fox... Just Borrowing.

Summary: It's time. Buffy, however, has checked out of reality. Spike has to search for help and does not like where, or with whom, he finds it.

Goodbye Again



Spike stood next to his bed, running his hands nervously through his hair. Get her somewhere quickly. She must have said 'Giles and Willow' for a reason. Maybe her house. Car. Where's the sodding car. No clue. Even if I did, no idea where she left the keys. "Bugger," Spike muttered to himself, scooping her up and starting up the ladder. "Determined to give my new ticker a bloody run for its money on its first day."

Buffy was quiet now, out cold, her head tucked against his chest. Spike

decided that he could carry her there a lot faster than he'd find the car or get someone to come and retrieve them. Whatever he did, he needed to do it before she started howling again. Another sound like that was bound to terrify him right out of ever doing this to her again.

Ever again? Spike wondered if his newfound...modifications... meant that this *wasn't* their only shot at parenthood. That they could end up with a house full of kids. The picture of a legion of little blonde

three-year-olds with superhuman strength and questionable tempers passed

through his scattered mind. The Armies of Darkness would tremble at that sight. Let's see how we do with this one.

Buffy stirred in his arms, shifting uncomfortably and Spike stumbled to keep his balance and forward momentum. He picked up the pace, almost breaking into a jog, following the familiar off road path to Revello Drive. For a moment, he thought she might wake up, but she settled back into his arms, her head falling back against his chest. It never seemed this long a trek before. Then again, he'd never been carrying a very pregnant Buffy, a pumping heart, and an overly anxious mind with him in the past.

Finally, Spike caught sight of the familiar house. He'd almost missed it. It looked different in daylight. He jogged across the street and down the walkway, hopping up her front steps until he reached the door. Hope I haven't been disinvited, he thought as he mustered his strength and kicked the door open with a crash.

"Some help here," Spike called, walking into the entryway. Giles appeared from the dining room at the sound of the door. Xander and Dawn were in the living room playing a hearty game of Go Fish. Now they looked like fawns caught in high beams.

"Spike?" Dawn squeaked, popping up from her chair.

"Nibs," he answered nodding in her direction.

"What's wrong?" Giles asked, standing straight across from Spike, sliding his hands under Buffy to help support her. The Watcher saw a million expressions melting together on Spike's face. Terror, concern, love, sadness, elation. It was dizzying to look at him.

"Long story. Ends in howling. She said something was wrong. Giles and

Willow. Came here," Spike panted. Giles removed one hand from under Buffy and held it to her neck, feeling for her pulse.

"What's wrong with her?" Dawn asked, peering over Spike's arm.

Giles looked Spike in the eyes. "Did she say anything else?"

"The baby. Then she was out. Carried her here," Spike was close to tears again, but bit the inside of his lip and drove them back. No need to frighten the Niblet.

"If *anything* happens to her," Xander hissed.

"Harris," Spike snarled. He had neither the time nor the patience for the whelp right now.

"Spike, let's get her upstairs," Giles said. Spike was bounding up the

steps before Giles finished the thought. "Xander, stay with Dawn please."

The Watcher was off after Spike before the whining could commence.

"Willow?" Giles called as he reached the landing. "This way," he continued to Spike, gesturing towards Buffy's room.

"You think Red's a good choice for this, mate?" Spike asked. Last time he had seen the girl, she was ripping out internal organs and sending him to hell, after all.

"Only choice, I'm afraid," Giles responded. " I would not do this if we had another option." Willow appeared through the doorway to Buffy's room. She stopped dead, staring at Spike. Fear and torment swirled in her eyes. Spike had been ready to be overcome with anger at the sight of the witch, but instead he felt an incredible sadness. Pity.

"Willow, it's time," Giles said. "Are you ready?"

"Y..yes."

"Spike, take Buffy into her room, please."

Spike complied wordlessly, laying Buffy gently down on the bed. She moaned, grabbing his arm, but her eyes stayed shut tight. "It's OK, Love," he whispered, dropping to his knees beside the bed, holding her hand softly. "I'm here."

Willow came into the bedroom carrying a box and setting it down at the foot of the bed. Giles stood in the doorway. "You ready, Tara?" Willow asked.

Spike hadn't seen the good witch sitting in the corner. His mind flashed to the night in the cemetery when she came to him and gave him the warning. They had something in common now. They had both crossed over and came back at someone else's hand. "I'm ready," Tara whispered, standing up slowly.

"Ready for? Shouldn't we take her to hospital?" Spike asked, turning to Giles, feeling steadily more uneasy by the moment.

"Spike, I will explain everything but we need to go now," Giles answered.

"Wait a bloody minute!" Spike stood up, spinning toward the Watcher.

"Bugger off, mate! I'm not leaving her again. I told her I'd stay with

her." Giles could see Spike's eyes start to swim and hear his voice start to crack.

Tara began to walk toward the Vampire. "Spike?" she whispered, laying her hand gently on his forearm. A tear escaped from his eye as he turned to look at her. He brushed it off in frustration with the back of his hand. "Please let Giles explain. We *have* to do this, alright? You know I wouldn't do this if we had a choice." Willow's head dropped, realizing the implications of Tara's statement. "If we don't do it this way, she and the baby could die. I know that would kill you too, Spike. I know you love them. So please, trust me, OK?"

"Die?" Spike asked, his beautiful eyes shimmering and watery. He turned back to Buffy, looking at her, touching her hand, feeling her soft skin.

"We won't let that happen. But you have to behave. You have to trust me and go. I will come and get you when it's safe. Giles can explain

everything."

"I... I can't just leave her," Spike whispered, never taking his eyes off Buffy's face. He was brushing her hair from her cheeks.

"Sometimes you have to let go for a while."

The words stung his ears.

"I *promised* her."

"I know," Tara answered, resting her hand on his shoulder.

"She'll be afraid when she wakes up."

"We'll be here. We'll tell her you're nearby."

"Don't let her die," Spike pleaded, finally breaking down. "Please." He leaned down and kissed Buffy's lips softly. She tasted like vanilla and tears.

"I won't. *We* won't. But you have to go," Tara whispered, putting her arm around Spike and pulling him slowly away from the bed. Giles stepped up behind them and gingerly took the Vampire's arm and pulled him slowly into the hallway.

The last thing Spike saw was Tara's face disappearing behind the door, and the sound of a 'click'.