Book Two. Chapter 18. Communication got me down.

The communication
of the dead is tongued with fire
beyond the language of the living.
T.S. Eliot’s memorial inscription, Poet’s Corner, Westminster Abbey from Little Gidding

Seldom, very seldom, does complete truth
belong to any human disclosure;
seldom can it happen that something is not a little disguised,
or a little mistaken.
Jane Austen, Emma

Women’s propensity to share confidences is universal.
We confirm our reality by sharing.
Barbara Grizzute Harrison, Secrets Women Tell Each Other


He’d gotten precious little sleep. He hadn’t expected to get much in any case, the news from home giving him more than enough reason for concern. But there was a sense of impending doom that Giles felt he needed to avert that was causing him the most amount of worry. Just over five hours ago, he’d been sitting in this same library, in nearly the same damned chair and the uneasiness hadn’t dissipated at all. In fact, it had grown bigger, sort of like a spill of dark liquid leaching into a pristine white tablecloth.

An hour ago, he’d gotten a phone call from Wesley, updating him on everything. Nothing was good. The old adage no news was good news was being tested in this case. There were no new developments and the status was still piss-poor. Giles was beginning to think they were heading into deeper troubles rather than coming out of it all.

He also wasn’t quite sure what they should do about Angel. Angelus.

It was almost beginning to not matter what they called him. Neither one of his appellations fit him. There was nothing angelic about the vampire. But, really, old man, he could hardly walk around being called ‘satan’ or ‘devil’. Even if those names fit him better.

Glancing down at the weighty book on the table before him, Giles shook his head and focused once again on the matter at hand. At the moment he was searching out possible mentions of the monks or the Key in the Slayer Annals. So far, it was a waste of his time, and he had no reason at all to continue searching, and he really . . . . didn’t. . . what the bloody hell?

It wasn’t possible. Had to be just a coincidence. He was frozen in place, staring at the name on the page in front of him. It was the list of Slayers from the year 1603 to 1699, including some potentials. It couldn’t possibly be the same girl. Had to just be a misprint or a similar name. But the hair on his neck was rising and his stomach was telling him it wasn’t just a similar name, wasn’t a misprint. Ignoring the looks his increasing agitation was garnering, Giles got to his feet and headed directly to the books he’d been reading the night before.

Flipping quickly through the pages, at first he past right by the information he was looking for. Heading back to his seat, the book in hand, the pages rustling loudly in his haste, Giles was mumbling to himself under his breath. “Can’t be. Got to be wrong. Has to be wrong. Just a . . . “

There it was. 1623. Isabeau de la Fontaine, delivered of a son, after dying in the year 1622.

Looking down at the book on the table, there it was again. Isabeau de la Fontaine, potential, identified in the year 1619. Never called as a Slayer.

Ripping off his glasses, Giles flipped a few pages back in the smaller book, finding another girl who’d given birth to a vampire’s child. Bryn of Rhuddlan, died 1587, gave birth to two children, first in 1588 and then again in 1591. Searching through the Slayer Annals, Giles found her identified as a potential in 1585.

Only two so far. Might just be a coincidence.

Could be.

But he really didn’t think it was.

Sitting down heavily in his chair, Giles got set to cross reference all the girls.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Buffy?” Tara’s voice broke into the other girl’s musings, drawing her back into reality.

“Hey. What’s up?” Damn. Cornflakes are all soggy now. Wrinkling up her nose at the lumpy mess, she got up from the counter, dumping the bowl’s contents into the garbage.

“Last night? At the supermarket, Oz and I ran into Willow.” Buffy looked at her, waiting for her to continue. “She’s changed.”

“What do you mean?” Pausing, she rambled, “Willow’s, Willow, always the same. Well not so much, she did change from high school to college girl and,” catching sight of the bemused look on Tara’s face, Buffy said, “never mind. Tell me.”

“I’m not sure what she did, but she’s not the girl I dated.” Trying for composure, Tara inhaled deeply, continuing, “the thing is she’s done something. She’s darker, you know?”

“Tara?” Try again, coz I’m not following you.”

“Right. When we saw her I checked her aura, because, well, she looked different. Her face was all white, all her color was gone and, and, her hair is shot through with black. So I checked.”

She now had Buffy’s full attention. “Go ahead, tell me.”

“I got a glimpse of what she’d done. Its not good. She did something to call forth. . . I’m not certain, but whatever she did isn’t working the way she thinks it is.” Tara took a deep breath. “Whatever she did – the goddess – the response was ‘be careful what you wish for’.”

“Oh no.” This didn’t sound too good. “So this means?”

“That Willow’s either not prepared for the answer or, or she’s gotten exactly what she’s asked for.” Tara was fiddling with the breakfast dishes, not really looking at Buffy while she explained her impressions.

“Which is?” She’d stopped what she was doing, her attention fully focused on the other girl, realizing she was about to hear something she didn’t necessarily want to know about the girl who used to be her best friend.

“Something really not good.” Purposefully unloading the dishwasher, Tara missed the narrowing of the Slayer’s eyes, her own agitation increasing every time she thought this through. She’d spent half the morning debating with herself about telling Buffy and Spike her suspicions over what she’d inadvertently discovered about Willow and earlier, when she’d stopped outside their room, she’d heard Dawn’s voice, Tara had thought better of interrupting them.

“Tara? What aren’t you telling me?” Buffy had been watching her, realizing that Tara was very upset about what she was about to say.

Blowing out a breath, Tara said, “I think the reason why Spike got hurt is because Willow summoned the knights.”

Buffy stared at the witch, a hundred different thoughts racing through her head. No, she wouldn’t do that, my Willow wouldn’t. . . you so sure about that Buffy? This is the same Willow that hurt your sister and her own girlfriend and brought you back from heaven. . . and who else has she been hurting? What else has she done that you don’t know about? This isn’t the same girl you first met five years ago. . . this is someone else. Buffy got a faraway look in her eyes, staring into nothingness, not seeing the girl in front of her.

“Does she hate me that much?” Unaware that she’d said the words out loud, Buffy was startled back to herself by Tara’s soft hand on her arm.

“I don’t think its you she hates. I’m not sure what she’s feeling anymore.” Tara watched carefully as Buffy snapped back to herself, concern for the other girl overpowering her own sense of unease.

“So why would she do something like that? What’s the purpose behind summoning the knights?” This was bewildering, Buffy couldn’t understand why someone else would do something like that. “The knights were there to hurt Dawn, why would she summon them?”

Drawing Buffy toward the back door, Tara tried to settle her thoughts. They were the only ones downstairs at the moment, Dawn was out with Casey, Wesley had gone to the Magic Box and Spike and the baby were still sleeping upstairs. It was as good a time as any to talk about what she’d seen in Willow’s aura. Before they knew it, the girls were seated on the back step, basking in the late October sunlight.

“I’m not sure, completely sure about this, so you have to, to just trust me on this, okay?” Tara looked at Buffy, unconsciously wringing her hands, trying to come up with a way to voice her concerns. Without waiting for a response, she tried again, ‘I just, the thing is,” she sighed deeply, stilling as Buffy’s hand touched her arm, then Tara blurted out, “her aura is dark and not good dark, sometimes dark can be good, like dark purple or dark gold or, dark blue and, and dark green. But this was dark red and dark black and . . “

The steam seemed to go out of her and Tara slumped down further on the step she was sitting on, her hands clenched together tightly. Bowing her head, hiding her face in her hair, her voice sounded very softly between them. “I think Willow is trying to hurt Spike. I think she tried to get his true face to show.”

The air was very silent, the street noises so very far away in that moment, like they belonged to another place and a different time, like the noises of everyday had no business being part of the conversation taking place on the back porch. Neither girl moved, each of them lost in the enormity of what one had just confessed to the other.

The truth isn’t always kind, nor is it caring of what was before or what will come after, only that it is heard. Truth never has an easy birth. But once it arrives, there is a feeling of rightness, a sense of having known what the truth is before it is even uttered, an inescapable moment, when the speaker and the witness know, deep in their souls, that the truth has been revealed.

Buffy shivered, a chill working its way up her spine, dancing across every nerve. Her voice, when she spoke after so long a silence, was even and uninflected, almost devoid of emotion. “She wants to hurt him because of me. Because I’m not what she wants me to be. Because I haven’t gone to her or accepted what she did. Spike may have been the target of her anger, but she’s really pissed at me. Why else would she do what she did?”

There was no question about believing Tara, Buffy knew as soon as the other girl had spoken, that Tara was speaking truth. Willow had done the summoning. Had set into motion events that she couldn’t control . . . but hadn’t Willow always done that? How many times had Willow felt slighted or wronged or betrayed in some way only to lash out when control of a situation escaped her? When Oz left and she had no control over anything, Willow had lashed out and caught them all up in a spell that had colossal impact. . . and then, when she’d jumped . . again, there was Willow with the non-acceptance.

“Oh god. Tara. . . she’s. . . oh my god. She’s going to keep going until something bad happens right?” Buffy turned wild eyes to the other girl, her hand clenching and unclenching around her wrist. “What . . she can’t. I can’t lose him. I . . “

Tearing herself away from Tara, Buffy was through the back door before the other girl even realized that she was gone. The sound of feet pounding up the stairs was audible outside, then the sound of a door banging open echoed through the backyard. Barely able to make out their voices, Tara could guess what Buffy had done upon entering the room.

Dropping her head down into her hands, Tara tried to stop the tears, even all the while knowing it was futile.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He’d taken the last of the liquid morphine after Dawn left the room earlier. There hadn’t been all that much anyway and it was mostly just to calm the muscle spasms that had been wracking him since he’d drunk from Buffy at first light. He’d gotten a concession of sorts from her, when he’d agreed to drink – he wasn’t going to take more than just little bits until her – on the condition she agree to wait – until her courses were done. She hadn’t liked his condition, in fact had almost started another argument about it, but he’d verbally boxed her into a corner and she had no choice.

They had enough human blood on hand anyway that he could, if he wanted to, gorge himself on, but strangely enough he wasn’t all that hungry. What he was, was itchy and sore and he could really use a good soak and he needed to wash his bloody hair.

It was easier right now to focus on the physical ailments rather than the other things that had gone on in the last forty-eight hours anyway. At least the physical reminders were fading. The other stuff . . . Spike groaned and rolled over onto his side. Pretty much everything was healing, although he was still hovering near the halfway healed mark. Buffy’s blood would do the trick.

The baby shifted in his sleep, rustling the blankets a bit. Spike didn’t know much about babies, but he did know that two day old ones weren’t supposed to move around. They were just supposed to lay there. This one was restless. Shifting about, snuffling in his sleep, he was unusually active. Fair enough, child was of supernatural parentage, stands to reason something would be different about him. His parents were both master vampires, no doubt he’d gotten something from both of them, since they weren’t normal.

Which brought him back to thinking about his own . . . Dawn. From the first moment he’d laid eyes on her, he’d known there was something about her that called to him, something on such a deep level that he’d never questioned it. Just known she was somehow part of him – he’d never imagined that she literally was part of him. She was his.

His daughter.

Part of him was beyond angry that the monks had planted the Gem here, specifically for him, to lure him in, then engineered other events of his unlife to suit their purposes. He didn’t mind so much being love’s bitch – but he resented the hell out of being destiny’s plaything. Part of him hated the monks. They’d stolen something from him – and from Buffy, using The Initiative to do their dirty work, in turn stealing the blood and tissue samples from Initiative labs and. . . creating Dawn.

His anger didn’t matter then.

Wasn’t at all important.

Because every wrong thing the monks had done was outweighed by the one good thing they had done.

They’d given him Dawn.

His daughter.

And through her, the monks had given him a second blessing, because of Dawn’s appearance, he’d gotten the unattainable girl. He’d gotten Buffy.

So the anger wasn’t important at all.

Spike just let it go, and like vampire dust drifting away, the anger disappeared.

When the baby had cried, after Dawn had dropped the bombshell on them, he’d realized yet another benefit. Because of the monks, and Dawn, he and Buffy had the same chance that Angel and Darla had been given – and that, that was something he’d always wanted. Home. Wife. Family.

Opening his eyes to stare at the crib, Spike watched Connor shift around again. He was getting ready to let loose a full throated cry when big cool strong hands lifted him up to an equally strong cool chest. Crooning softly, Spike laid back down on the bed, Darla’s son cradled protectively in his arms. The baby settled down, mewled once, going right back to sleep.

“Your mum had the right way of it. Rather than hurt you, she did the right thing, to protect you.” His low voice rumbled in his chest and it wasn’t until his breathing hitched that Spike realized he had tears in his eyes. “Much as I hated your mum half the time, she did the right thing. Only thing she forgot was taking your idiot father with her. But tha’s all right, got old uncle Spike to watch out for you.”

Brushing a hand down the baby’s back, he said, “Promise to the memory of your mum, and my daughter, I’ll do m’best to keep you safe.”


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Her feet hit the steps at a dead run, pounding at the same rate as her heartbeat. What Tara had just said to her chilled her to the bones, coupled with what Wesley had said last night, Buffy was nearly in a full blown panic.

She knew it had taken a lot for Tara to admit that it was all Willow’s doing, to face the realization that Willow was at the root of what was happening now, that the reason Dawn was in danger, that Spike had nearly been dusted. In fact, save for Angel going homicidal again, almost all the bad stuff that had been happening lately was all Willow’s fault. Even the Huntsman’s appearance was her fault.

Buffy slammed through the door to their room, gasping breaths sucking in much needed air, her panic receding somewhat at finding the two of them curled up together on the bed. Connor was sleeping in the crook of Spike’s arm, his nose pressed up against the vampire’s chest, Spike’s right hand resting lightly on his back. Tears welled up in her eyes and she really wasn’t even sure why they did so.

Spike’s voice was soft in the room, trying not to disturb the baby sleeping in his arms. “What’s wrong?”

“I. . . Tara thinks Willow cast a spell, did something to bring the knights here.” Agitation was clear in Buffy’s voice and Spike opened his eyes to find her wringing her hands and pacing the room.

“An’ you came charging up here because?” He wanted to know the real reason her heart was pounding like a trip hammer and her breathing was off.

“Spike, she wants to hurt you. She wants you gone. I can’t. . . I’m not, I can’t let that happen. I don’t think I could survive that.” Buffy hadn’t stopped moving, unable to sit still or calm her panic.

“Kitten,” he paused waiting for her full attention. “Buffy, c’mere.” Almost reluctantly she moved toward their bed, still unable to stop hyperventilating “‘Member what you said ‘bout me? That I wouldn’t go away even if you sent me? How I’d keep at ya ‘til you took me back, Buffy, c’mere.”

Holding his arm out, he gestured for her to come closer. “Buffy. I love you more than you understand. If somethin’ were to happen – even if I got dusted I’d find a way back. ‘M not leavin’ you, kitten, ever.”

She moved onto the bed, Connor snuggled tightly between them, his arm covering them both, his hand firmly on her butt. Buffy looked into his eyes, seeing again the look of fierce tenderness he held just for her, “I love you. Have from the first. Not goin’ to waste any more time. Got you, Niblet and spawn here to worry over. Not goin’ w’out a fight.”

Her hand reached out to cup his cheek and Buffy felt the walls around her heart crumbling away to nothing. “God, Spike – how could I not love you?”

Spike’s slow grin warmed her heart. Not quite how he wanted them said, but he’d take this until she was ready to say the others.


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


The phone ringing was an annoyance her sleeping mind didn’t want to deal with, so she tried ignoring it. It would ring for a while, then stop for a little bit, then start ringing again. Really, couldn’t you just leave me alone?

Groaning and rolling over at the same time, Willow finally gave in and reached for the phone. ‘What is it now Xander?”

There was silence for a moment, then his voice drifting over the line asked, “how did you know it was me?”

“Xander? It’s a witchy thing.”

“Oh. I thought maybe you got caller ID.” There was a hint of a tease in his voice, but Willow wasn’t in a playful mood.

“What do you want Xander?” Her exasperation was clearly audible, even to Xander.

“Geez, Wills, you could be less happy to hear from me you know.” Slight hurt came over clearly despite the phone line and Willow winced a bit. She was being a little too mean to him.

“Sorry Xand. Have a bit of a headache. Not feeling so chipper.” Sitting up now, Willow twirled the phone cord around her fingers, “but what’s up?”

“Dunno if anyone’s called to tell you, but Angelus is on the loose and possibly on his way to Sunnydale.” Willow’s entire body stiffened, every nerve on alert.

“What happened?” Willow’s voice was eager, impatient for Xander’s explanation.

As he launched into what happened, Willow sort of turned him out, the beginnings of a plan formulating in her head. Angelus is back. I’m the only one with the restoration spell, and . . . . he’s going to come looking for me. He’s going to try and kill me.

“Xand? Does anyone have an idea if he’s coming here soon?”

“I haven’t talked to Buffy since last night.” Not wanting to tell Willow about what had happened between him and Anya, he focused instead on something else that bothered him enormously. “Wills? Are you sure you did this spell to bring Buffy back correctly? She’s all on board with the Spike is good train and I don’t get it – unless its some spell you did that went all wonky.”

Willow’s anger coiled and wound through her, rattling the edges of her nerves. The snap in her voice got his attention though, penetrating his usually slow wits. “No Xander. That’s not me. I didn’t make any mistakes.”

“Okay. No need to get all huffy with me.” Xander’s voice held a trace of fear, but he knew Willow would never hurt him. “Just thought you should know.”

“Thanks Xander. Nice to know someone is still my friend.” The bitterness in her voice was clear and something Xander couldn’t let go unremarked.

“C’mon Wills, you know I’ll always be around.”

“I know Xander.”

With a promise to meet him later at the Magic Shop, Willow hung up the phone, her mind running through numerous situations and scenarios. How to keep Angelus off my back with out becoming dinner.

Focusing a bit, Willow held out her hand, willing a small ball of sunshine into existence. Not satisfied with that, she breathed out some Latin, changing the sunlight to flame, watching it dance across her hand. Closing her hand into a fist, Willow smiled slightly.

 

Book Two. Chapter 19. Knowledge is power.

A single conversation with a wise man is better than ten years of study.
Chinese Proverb

You can discover what your enemy fears most
by observing the means he uses to frighten you.
Eric Hoffer



Wesley paced along the length of the small hangar, waiting for the plane carrying Rupert to debark. His connecting flight from Los Angeles ahd arrived ten minutes ago and the passengers were about to. . . there were the first ones.

He’d offered to get Rupert when Buffy had slightly balked when Spike had said the two of them would go. It was clear to all of them but her that Spike was just about fully healed, even the bruises were gone, but Buffy wasn’t easily convinced.

So that was how Wesley found himself waiting for Rupert. It was also how he and Buffy had been patrolling along with the ridiculous Buffybot Spike had had commissioned.

He couldn’t possibly imagine what Spike had been thinking. . . well, actually he could, which just made the entire situation quite funny. Spike’s expression had been priceless when Buffy jeeringly referred to the thing as “skirt girl.”

Tara and Dawn had collapsed in a fit of giggles while the vampire had just stalked from the room, imprecations falling from his lips.

“Wesley?” Giles’ voice broke into Wesley’s musings and he turned to greet the older man.
“Hello Rupert. How was your flight?”

“Thankfully uneventful.” Giles searched Wesley’s face, noting the fatigue around his eyes. “Not sleeping well?”

“Hardly sleeping at all. While Angelus has been quiet, we fear he’s solidifying his position by taking over already organized nests.” Wesley paused as they shouldered past some travelers, then resumed talking once they were outside the airport. “Spike is back on his feet, which is good news. But no one’s heard from Willow.”

Glancing sideways at his companion, Giles commented wryly, “obviously not a good sign.”

Without looking at his fellow Englishman, Wesley nodded.


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dawn was sitting on the floor of the living room, the television on, Connor on a blanket beside her, phone at her ear, chattering away with Casey, while Buffy was in the basement doing laundry. Tara was off at late classes and Spike was upstairs when Wesley and Giles came through the door.

Barely registering their presence, Dawn waved hello, going right back into her conversation. Motioning Giles into the kitchen, Wesley offered hm a drink, explaining, “Dawn’s got a boyfriend. She spends a fair amount of time attached to that thing.”

Before Giles had a chance to comment, Buffy was in the kitchen, hugging him. “Hey. Welcome back. How was dreary old London?”

“Not so dreary. But then I was hardly outside at all. Spent most of my trip in the Council libraries in fact.” He tried maintaining a straight face, but Buffy’s welcome was far too enthusiastic for him to remain stoic.

“Right, go Giles with the researchy trip. So. You gonna tell us all the good stuff?” Buffy reached around Giles, opening the refrigerator, grabbing a bottle after glancing up at the clock.

“I thought perhaps I’d wait until everyone is assembled, rather than go over this numerous times.” Giles watched her closely, noting that the gauntness and shadows that had clung to her seemed to be easing somewhat.

“How are you doing?” Giles wanted to know and it seemed like now was a good time to ask.

Putting the bottle on the stove to warm, Buffy stole a glance toward Wesley, then shrugged. Very softly she said, “I’m doing okay. Was afraid for a little bit that I’d lose Spike and Dawn, but I’m okay.” Smiling at him brightly, Buffy continued, “not perky Buffy yet, but working my way toward sometimes chipper.”

Checking the bottle’s temperature, Buffy put it back into the nearly boiling water, smiled at Wesley, saying cryptically, “he’s a bit late. . . wonder why?”

Wesley’s answering smile was a bit lopsided, but his response was equally cryptic. “He’s been going a bit longer every time.”

Just then an ear splitting wail rang through the house and two things happened at once – Dawn yelled “Buffy!” and thumping feet were heard on the stairs.

Spike’s voice reached them. “Niblet, instead of addin’ to the racket, pick up the sprog an’ bring him inside.”

To which she replied, “I’m on the phone.”

Which just caused the other two in the kitchen to laugh, but Giles failed to see the humor in any of it.

Spike entered the kitchen with a caterwauling Connor cradled to his chest, a look of pure chagrin on his features. ‘Kitten, tha’ girl needs to get of ‘er butt and take care of the sprog.”

Realizing the kitchen was more occupied than he thought, Spike said, “never mind. We’ve the convention here already. ‘Lo Rupes.” Handing off the infant to Buffy, Spike perched on the counter. “How was the old sod?”

“It was fine. What I saw of it in any case.” Giles realized that only Tara was missing from this group that he needed to update so he asked, “when will Tara be returning?”

Spike answered, without taking his eyes away from where Buffy was cuddling Connor, “not long. ‘Bout half an hour at most. Got lots to share, Watcher?”

“I do and I’d rather do this once.” He was tired and he wanted to get into his own bed and sleep until sometime late tomorrow morning.

Wesley asked, “is she coming home right after classes?”

“Don’t rightly remember” was Spike’s idle response, but then he shook off his reverie. “Think she an’ dogboy were supposed to be here for movie night.”

“Dog boy?” Giles looked between the other two Englishmen, clearly not understanding.

“He means Oz.” Buffy’s voice was laced with something Giles couldn’t quite pick up on, he thought it might be confusion, but he just discounted it as his own misreading of the entire conversation.

“Oz and Tara are – getting along?”

Spike choked back a snorted laugh, saying “S’right Watcher. Go away for a bit an’ the whole soddin’ hellmouth goes a bit wonky.”

At Giles’ completely baffled look, Spike and Wesley filled him in on all the details of what he’d missed while Buffy listened, feeding Connor.


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Two days she’d been working diligently, relentlessly perfecting the spells and glamors she was going to need to protect herself from Angel. She’d known as clearly as her own name, he was coming for her.

No one else could perform the soul restoration. No one else knew it. She wasn’t going to do it. Wasn’t even going to give the spell to Buffy so that someone else could try. She also wasn’t going to wait while Angel played his stalkery game. No. Going to take control of the whole situation. Maybe. . . Angel will kill Spike and then I’ll take care of Angel – make him all poofy and everything will be like it should be. I’ll have Tara back and Buffy will be my best friend again and life will be good. Yeah. That’s what I’m going to do.

Mind firmly made up, Willow went back to studying the books strewn across her bed.


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Dark blue eyes framed by dark lashes surveyed the room, idly noting the broken porcelain bits and tattered lace littering the floor. Dainty feet pirouetted round the room, snippets of songs bouncing off the blood splattered walls. A delicate, deceptively fragile ivory hand cupped the cheek of her latest find, a luscious little girl wrapped in layers of silk and lace, then pulled back, leaving a line of crimson across one cheek.

“Mmmmm. Mummy likes that. . . . lovely pretty ribbons of red dancing all about, curling round.” A cool tongue licked a path from a puckered nipple upwards, pausing to nibble delicately at the throbbing pulse, lapping at the blood pooling in a hollow cheek. “Lots of pretty ribbons for mummy. Does precious kitty want to play?”

Sharpened nails slid down the mostly naked torso, tweaking already engorged nipples, then dipping lower, lower still. The form beneath the questing hand was quiet, the only sounds gasping, panting breaths as cool blood-slick fingers slithered downwards. Dipping two fingers into the warm pussy of her latest prize, Drusilla laughed softly as her toy’s hips raised up, the girl silently begging for more.

“That’s it little kitty cat, purr for mummy.” Sinking her fangs into the breast in front of her, Drusilla stilled, taking long gulps, then stilled again as she felt the silent pull, the feeling of . . . home. . . of Daddy. . . It was not the first time she’d felt it, but this was by far the strongest; cocking her head to the side, Drusilla listened to the call of her Sire, a call only she could hear. . .

Pistoning her fingers in the toy’s warm pussy, Drusilla growled her joy at the thrumming in her veins. Ripping her mouth away, she cooed her delight, forgetting about the willing body beneath her hands. “Daddy’s home, little pussy. . . pssssssss my little pussy shall be just for Daddy now.”

Running her tongue over the bucking form of her latest human, Drusilla singsonged into the girl’s flesh. “Daddy’s home. . . Daddy’s home. . . and he wants his little girl.”

Watching now as her human bucked and writhed in orgasm, Drusilla smiled. “Yes. . . little pussycat shall be Daddy’s prezzie.”

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Buffy was changing Connor’s diaper, something Giles absolutely never envisioned his slayer doing; Tara and Oz were clattering in the front door, but Giles’ full attention was on the two figures on the floor. Buffy was kneeling by the fireplace, Connor on his blanket and Buffy was actually, and evidently happily, changing the infant’s nappy. He shook his head, trying to come to terms with this vision. He’d thought about waiting to give them his biggest discovery in private, but the sight in front of him had him so rattled that Giles just blurted it all out without thinking.

“You aren’t the first, you know. There have been other Slayers who had children. It’s a rare occurrence, I’ll grant you that, but it has happened.” He paused when Buffy looked at him, her eyes calmly digesting this information. Spike had stilled at the first sound of his voice, lowering the volume on the television, but gradually everyone present had focused on his words, each of them anxiously awaiting whatever else was about to escape from his lips.

“The last slayer to have a child was actually pregnant when she was called.” Remembering what had happened to her, Giles rushed on, “but she wasn’t the first. What is more remarkable were the others.”

“What others?” Buffy shared a look with Spike, knowing which slayer Giles had been referring to and why he’d nearly tripped over himself to skip the story of Spike and Nikki Wood.

“The ones who managed to fall in . . the ones who weren’t called but were identified as potentials and their fates.”

Spike got up off the chair, going to stand beside where Buffy and Connor were, his hand unconsciously stroking her hair. “Go on, Watcher, may as well finish it.”

“The information regarding vampire pregnancies was fairly easily found, however my research did turn up an interesting fact I’m sure none of us considered. The males are all of the same line. They are all Aurelians.”

Buffy’s hand reached up to clasp Spike’s and their fingers entwined, his thumb brushing across the back of her hand. It was his voice that asked the question they were both thinking, “why’m I gettin’ the feeling there’s more to this story?”

“Because there is.” Giles focused his full attention on the couple in front of him, fully aware what he was about to tell them could literally change their lives.

“Six well documented cases of vampire pregnancies, all of them human girls with Aurelian males.” He ticked them off one by one on his fingers.

“Ariadne of Crete, died in 1137, had two children, one in 1138 and another in 1142;”

“Amalie of th Franks, died 1222, had four children, 1224, 1226, 1227 and the last in 1230;”

“Sorcha of Clan MacDonald, died in 1282, had three surviving children 1284, 1285 and 1286;”

“Miriam of the City of Grenada, died 1301, one child 1303;”

“Bryn of Rhuddlan, died in 1587, had two children born in 1588 and 1591; and the last recorded was Isabeau de la Fontaine, died 1622, one child in 1623.”

The room was quiet, none of those present willing to make a sound. Buffy couldn’t look at Spike, afraid of what emotions she would find on his features. She could feel his eyes on her, could feel his tension in the stiffening of his muscles and before she could risk a glance upwards, Giles was speaking again.

“It was Isabeau that lead me to the second part of this, the other half of this puzzle. Isabeau was identified as a potential slayer in 1619. She was never called. Bryn was identified as a potential in 1585. All the others I mentioned were identified within five years of their first deaths.”

Spike was staring down at Buffy, willing her to look up at him, which she finally did when he unconsciously tugged on her hand. The fierceness of the look in his eye coupled with the set of his jaw loosened the coils of fear that had settled in her belly. Buffy smiled up at him and she watched as the ferocity grew.

Heedless of the small drama being played out on the floor of the living room, Giles finally spoke again. “The as of yet unrecorded vampire pregnancy took a bit more uncovering. Darla and Angel. Darla was turned by the Master – do you know when?” At Spike’s shaken head, Giles said, “I believe it was 1609. She was an indentured servant, actually working as a whore, just as the rumors implied. If she is who I now believe her to be, she was born Darla Witherspoon, identified as a potential in 1602, who ran away from home when the Council attempted to approach her in England.”


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Willow was standing in the middle of Restfield, working on perfecting her ability to conjure fire out of thin air. She’d been practicing outside now for about an hour, leaving the safety of her parents home when one of the curtains got singed.

The fireball spell was proving trickier than she’d imagined, working well only about a third of the time. The sunshine spell was fine, in fact was better than fine, as the vampire dust at her feet attested to. Transmuting the energy from sunshine into flame wasn’t as easy, and for all of her hard work, Willow was no more accurate than when she first started.

Why isn’t this working? This should work without a hitch – so what’s the damn problem? Holding her palm open, Willow blew out a breath, breathing life into the invocation. A tiny pulsing light bathed her pale features, casting almost noon shadows as it flittered above her head.

Willow stared up at the light for long moments, contemplating the sight overhead and the nature of fire. Think Willow . . . what is it that . . . sunlight – glass – dry leaves. Is that? No. Too complicated and it’ll take too long. Think. Put your thinking cap on and work this darn thing out.

“Sunlight to flame . . . “ Pacing back and forth, Willow started muttering chaunts beneath her breath, trying to come up with one that would be simple and effective – and fast. “Sunlight to flame. . . sunlight to flame, never go out in rain. Nope. That’s just silly. Flame, game, same, name, dame, claim, fame, tame. . . . nothing fits.”

A low laugh echoed off the marble surrounding her and Willow’s head snapped up, trying to pinpoint from which direction the sound originated.

Glancing overhead, Willow uttered a single word – “Widen” and the area bathed in light enlarged.

Casting a wary eye all around, Willow waited, instinctively knowing nothing excited Angelus quite the way fear did.

Long minutes passed, or so it seemed, without either adversary speaking. Willow crossed her arms over her chest, a bored expression drifting across her features, hiding her internal agitation well.

She knew what he was trying to do. He was trying to get her to panic, to leave the safety of the sunshine. Not gonna happen, big guy. I’m way smarter than you – can soo outplay your game right now.

Angel was impressed. Little Red was all grown up, trying to play with her elders. He could feel the power pulsing within her and he could also sense the deep well of anger nearly swallowing her. She was. . . . magnificent. Or she will be when she’d fully come into her power.

Oh boyo, would ya look at that one. She’s a bright dark one. . . . an dorcha geal realta. She’d make a right fine vampire. He laughed again, for the joy of watching her and the thrill of chasing her.

She’d expected him to laugh, wasn’t phased by his mirth at all. But unlike before, when by now she would’ve been a babbling mess, Willow was determined to remain silent.

“Well, well, well. Look at how little Willow has grown. Not scared of me either. That’s such a shame. I must be losing my touch.” He paused, watching her try to pinpoint his location. She aimed a small ball of sunshine at a spot, but he’d already moved from there.

“That’s not very sporting now, is it? And all this time I thought you liked me. Was all that an act for Buffy’s sake?” She launched another one at him, but again, he’d moved before she could narrow down his position.

“Not a very nice greeting for someone who came to town just to see you. I was expecting something less hostile. I mean really, Willow? Where’s the love?”

She was looking off to her left and she finally spotted him. Angel was leaning against a crypt in a deceptively casual pose, his arms crossed as he leaned back, his ankles crossed as well, a slight smile playing on his face. He was hidden just enough from the sunshine to ensure his safety and had waited patiently until Willow turned around.

“Gotta say, I’m liking the new look. Treading a bit on the dark side, aren’t you?”

Willow arched a dark brow, holding her silence. “So tell me Willow – how come you’re out here all alone? Buffy desert you? Hmmm?”

He paused, staring her down, willing her to say something, but she held her tongue.

“Where’s your boy?” He sniffed, inhaling deeply, his inhalation ending in a surprised spluttering laugh. “Oh I’m sorry . . . Should be asking where’s your girl. Willow I’m surprised – an innocent girl like you? What are the neighbors saying?”

His grin got wider, watching as her composure started to crumble. “So Willow, don’t you just love the taste of a juicy wet pussy? Just where is your girl? Oooohhhh, is she the tasty one living with Buffy? Wonder if she and Spike share?”

Willow’s resolve wavered and she sent a ball of sunshine winging toward Angel, but he laughed, disappearing into a crypt before the light could hit him.

His cruel and callous laughter echoed around the interior of the mausoleum, bouncing back at her from all sides, and its echo still rang in her ears as she raced home.


 

Book Two. Chapter 20. Wisdom lingers

A little knowledge that acts
is worth infinitely more than much
knowledge that is idle.
Kahlil Gibran, In A Second Treasury of Kahlil Gibran

Our most bitter enemies are our own kith and kin
Kings have no brothers, no sons, no mother!
Honoré De Balzac, Catherine de Medici expliquée, Souverain




Darla had been a potential.

It explained so much about her, who she was, why she was so formidable, and why, years after she’d dusted, Darla’s actions and memory still haunted Buffy. It also explained why the Master had turned her, why Angelus and the rest of them were so strong, why they rose to master vampire status so quickly. Even poor Drusilla, poor Drusilla? Where the hell did that come from Buffy? Buffy shook her head in askance at her own thoughts. Even Drusilla must have benefitted from the infusion of potential slayer blood.

Glancing up at Spike, she wondered just how much her blood affected him. She knew it was powerful. He’d said so more than once, but she wondered what the long term effects might be on him. Would he be stronger? Would he be quicker to heal with regular infusions of her blood? Almost guessing the train of her thoughts by the expression on her face, Spike knelt down by her side, pulling her into his embrace. His voice was a low hum in her ear, his words whispered so that only she could hear him.

“Explains a lot now, what Rupert’s sayin’. Never would’ve imagined it. Darla always was a right bitch, and more powerful than she looked. Downright scary sometimes.”

Wesley was staring down at the baby, who was wriggling around on the blanket, Buffy’s hand covering his belly. “So the boy has slayer and vampire strength in him.”

Giles cleared his throat, preparing to speak, when Dawn’s voice broke through the heavy atmosphere. “Buffy? What does that mean?”

Oh god. Dawn. Buffy looked at Spike, both of them realizing at that instant that not only was Connor the child of a slayer and a vampire but so was Dawn. The panic in her voice was clear, at least to both of them, but no one else in the room caught the emotion.

“Niblet?” Spike’s gaze shifted to where she stood in the doorway, phone in hand and a concerned look on her face. He could hear the buzzing of the disconnection from where he was and he got to his feet, walking toward her. “C’mon, sweet bit, hang up the phone.”

He took the phone from her, hanging it up on the receiver, leading her to the couch. “Why don’t we let Giles tell us what it might mean before we all go off the deep end.”

“I’m not sure what it means. Most of the children were out of the Council’s – their fathers“ The former watcher faltered for a moment, then continued. “It appears that the children were spirited away for their own safety. One of the girls – Sorcha of Clan MacDonald – one of her children, a boy by the name of Seamus was taken into custody by the Council. He died while in the Council’s custody and both of his parents disappeared with their other children shortly after.”

“There’s no records of what happened to the others. They just simply disappeared and there were no details surrounding the rest of their lives.” His comments were greeted with silence, Buffy and Spike lost in their own thoughts concerning both the children.

Buffy lifted Connor off the floor, holding him against her breast. Spike pivoted to face Giles, tension radiating off him in waves as he partially blocked Giles’ view of the two Summers girls.

Giles, sensing the impending fight, raised his hands in an effort to calm Spike’s temper. “Relax. The Council has no knowledge of Connor’s existence – or his lineage. And,” he added, “I felt no compelling need to enlighten them. The baby should be safe for the time being.”

“As safe as he can be with his insane father sniffing around.” Dawn’s voice was laced with sarcasm and it was Wesley’s quietly spoken words that shocked them all.

“Until we can eliminate the threat Angelus poses, hiding Connor might not be a bad idea.”

“Eliminate?” Tara questioned him while Buffy and Spike shared a long look.

“One way or another we are going to have to deal with Angel.” Giles responded to Tara’s question – his attention caught by the sight of his slayer holding onto the baby while Spike looked down into her eyes.

“Your decision, Pet.” They both knew Spike’s carefully worded statement pertained to Dawn as well as Connor and that admitting it out loud was just going to just add to the confusion and turmoil of the moment.

Buffy shook her head, refusing to think about letting either of them go. “No. Not now. He’s still safe here with us.”

The unspoken second half of that was that Dawn would still be safe with them was clear, at least to Spike and his eyes only wavered from hers to glance briefly down at Dawn, who was watching their exchange very carefully. He smiled at the teenager then shifted his gaze back to the other Englishman. “Right then, Rupes, what else have you got?”

Giles motioned Spike to sit, himself moving to take the chair that Spike had vacated earlier. This next part was going to be tricky, Giles didn’t for once fool himself about that and he braced himself for the outcry and the outright refusal he was certain to encounter.

“I did some additional research while I was in the Council’s library, following what happened with Dawn and the knights.” Buffy sat down on the coffee table, angled toward Giles, while Wesley settled against the fireplace and the others found seats in various spots around the room, realizing this was going to be an involved discussion.

“Spike’s injuries while protecting Dawn from the knights could have been avoided.” Giles knew he was drawing this out, prolonging the moment – but he couldn’t for the life of him, just open this up for discussion, without some sort of introduction.

“Not bloody likely. Got this hardware that prevents certain actions.” Spike’s tone of voice, and his words, cut through the room, and Giles had his opening.

Throwing a somewhat grateful gaze in his direction, one that he hoped Spike didn’t incorrectly interpret, Giles said, “Well, yes, that is true. But I believe its time to discuss the chip and its removal.”

Instead of the upheaval and outrage he fully expected and had doubly prepared himself for, his statement was greeted with complete and utter silence. So much so that the only noise was Connor’s quick inhalations and the ticking of the clock on the wall. No one moved and no one spoke.

Time crept forward slowly as Giles waited for the hue and cry of denials that never came. His gaze moved from Spike’s still figure standing in the middle of the room to Buffy’s seated form. Dawn had shifted forward, as did Wesley, but like Tara and Oz, neither spoke. There was a quiet giggle, and Giles looked about for the source, when it was joined by another low chuckle and all eyes were riveted on the blond couple. Buffy looked up at Spike, who turned to face her, amusement playing about his lips and her stifled giggle broke into a full laugh.

Misinterpreting the reason behind Buffy’s laughter, Giles attempted to interrupt her, but it proved impossible as she sunk further into mirth.

Finally, after long minutes of relieved glee, Spike’s voice finally broke through enough to calm everyone else’s growing concern. “Thought we were goin’ to have a hell of a time tryin’ to convince you.”

He chuckled again, looking toward the love of his entire existence and smiled at her wide grin. She opened her mouth to speak and another series of giggles erupted. “Spike thought you would be the one to object.”

Giles trained his eyes on both of them, his senses suddenly alert. “You’ve talked about this?”

“Just Spike and I. Kinda wanted to wait until you were back. But I made up my mind while Spike was still out of it.” Buffy’s voice was steady, no hesitation or doubt present.

Spike braced himself for the arguments from the others in the room, and although he hoped there’d be none, he expected more than a token resistance to their decision.

“Have. . have you decided how?” Tara’s voice broke the silence – and, it seemed, everyone’s reluctance to speak, because Wesley then asked, “Is removal even possible?”

Dawn’s comment was, “about time the stupid thing came out. Stupid thing to do to a vampire anyway. What were they trying to do? Create some controllable demon army?”

“Bit? That’s exactly what they were plannin’.” Spike addressed her comments first, while Buffy fielded the others.

“Not sure if it can be removed, but we need to find out. Tara? Do you think you and Giles could check out magical means? We have a couple of options – either the Initiative or demon-friendly surgeons.”

“There’s always Dr. Thomas. He might be able to help.” Oz’ quiet voice drew Spike’s attention.

“Who’s that?”

“He’s the dude that fixed you up. Works at Sunnydale Memorial.” Oz leaned forward a little bit, his gaze intent on the vampire.

Giles surged to his feet, heading for his carry-on bag. “I brought a list of surgeons. I’m not certain he’s on it.”

“Might not be listed in Sunnydale. He’s from Pennsylvania originally. Somewhere near Hershey Park I think.”

Wesley said, “there’s a fair number of demon-friendly medical personnel in Los Angeles also, if you want to travel.”

“No.” Spike’s one word answer was softened when he continued, “don’t want Angelus catchin’ wind of this – so its got to happen here – can maybe hide one or two people comin’ into Sunnyhell, but me leavin’? He’d know it quick enough. ‘M not leavin’ town for this.”

“Angelus? What’s he got to do with this?” Obviously there was something else he was missing, because Giles was suddenly confused.

“He knows about the chip, and he would be just twisted enough to send humans after Spike. Plus he knows Spike was injured. What he doesn’t know is how or why – and he can’t know or find out the real truth about Dawn.” There was a steely quality in Buffy’s last statement, almost as if she were warning the others.

“So we are going to find a way to remove the chip before Angel realizes its happening. And we’re going to confuse the hell out of him or at least try.” Buffy looked toward Giles, realizing he’d been too quiet in his lack of objections. “Giles?”

“Hhmmm?” Recognizing his distracted air had the feeling of disapproval, Giles shook himself. “Perhaps then a ruse to keep him occupied would be in order.”

“Huh?” Buffy looked to Spike for a translation while Wesley capitalized on the thought, his own internal cogs shifting into motion.

“The Buffybot.”

“‘Splain.” Was Buffy’s clipped command.

“Angel knows about the chip. Knows Spike is injured. Do we know how closely he’s watching us?”

“He tried being all stalkery guy again, but Tara saved the day.” Buffy beamed over at her friend, a big smile on her face, to which Tara blushed in response. “Oh! Giles – we need an eternal source of power – got one handy?”

“Of course Buffy, I packed one in my bags.”

It took a moment for Giles’ snarky comment to register, but when Dawn and Tara both giggled, it was all over and the room’s occupants all laughed.


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Willow was seething. Her anger and resentment were almost palpable, another presence pacing along side her. She did not like this feeling. Angelus had, despite all her efforts to the contrary, managed to get under her skin earlier in Restfield.

He’d made her feel like stupid powerless Willow and she really didn’t like that. She was supposed to be the one in control; the cool-under-fire one who didn’t panic when the boogeyman came calling.

All those words from still stung, even though he hadn’t been that bad. It had still shaken her. The fact that he’d been able to creep up on her and get close caused a major case of the wiggins every time she really thought about it.

The more she thought about it, the more she just got aggravated. And how come no one had called her – well no one but Xander.

Oh no, I am not going to let that nasty vampire get the better of me. Nahuh. With renewed determination Willow focused her energy on making the spontaneous flame spell work.


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He was really happy his other self had been so concerned about his humans that he’d insisted they all get cell phones. Angel thought about calling Cordelia but decided against it. He’d call her later, give her time to think about where he was, how close he might be. Gunn? No. Not unless dear Freddie was with him. . . But no. Angel realized he just really wanted to talk to his most trusted right-hand man. Not since the Scourge had ranged about had there been anyone he trusted . . .

Flipping open his phone, Angel hit the address book and dialed Wesley.


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The laughter was slowly dying down when Wesley felt the vibration of his cell against his hip. He reached for it, standing away from the wall, his attention divided between the room and the phone. Glancing down at the display screen, he began motioning everyone to silence.

Waiting just long enough for everyone to still, Wesley opened the phone. “Angel.”

“Aw. That’s no fun peeking at the incoming number. Had to know you’d be the smart one.” There was amused disappointment in the vampire’s voice, almost as if he couldn’t complain about Wesley knowing who was on the other end, but wanting too in any case.

“What is it you want?” Spike had drifted closer, standing just to Wesley’s right, so that he could hear the entire exchange and the taller man shifted so that Spike wouldn’t have to strain so much.

“Want? Gee, that’s such an open question. I want lots of things.” There was a slight pause, as if Angel were really contemplating what he wanted. “I could say world peace, but really, that’s such a cliche, and so very far from the truth.”

“Yes, well, your point is?” Spike’s eyebrows rose in amusement, but he made no sound, waiting to hear what else Angel had to say.

“Not really the tone you want to take with me. If I want to talk, we’ll talk.” There was now a harder edge to the vampire’s tone, one that Wesley wasn’t at all comfortable with. “My point, Mr. Wyndam-Pryce, is that I wanted to check in, catch up on all the news. Find out how everyone is.”

Wesley and Spike shared a look, both of them trying to hold onto their mirth. Amazing how having someone else to listen to this relieved some of the fear. Buffy got up from the table, leaning into Spike’s side while she tried to listen also.

“Everyone’s fine.” Spike shook his head in agreement, a smirk playing on his features.

“Really? That’s so nice to hear. So tell me, has the infant sported fangs yet?”

“No.” Wesley was determined to not give Angelus any more information than absolutely necessary, giving him as little to go on as possible.

“No? Would’ve thought the boy would do that right away. Oh well, he’ll have them soon enough.” Buffy flinched and Spike pulled her and the baby closer, placing a silent kiss on the top of her head.

“Really Wes, the object of a cell phone is communication. So, please, communicate. I’m all ears.” There was an edge of irritation creeping into Angel’s voice and Spike’s smirk started to bloom into a grin, when Wesley just stated simply, “I’m not really all that chatty you know. Prefer to keep to myself.”

It took nearly all his will power not to laugh into the phone, but the looks that everyone around him were sporting was enough to send him over the edge. Really, what did Angel think he was dealing with? A bunch of easily scared teenaged girls? Intimidating phone calls might work if one of them was alone; but in this house, surrounded by a group of people, all of whom were either of supernatural origin or in their own way capable of battling one or two demons without any assistance. . . this tactic, of using a phone call, did not work. It was actually more of an annoyance. Wesley shook his head, not really sure he was really believing this. “Angel? Are we done here? I have things to do.”

“For now Wesley.”

And the phone disconnected.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Angel stared at the walls of the mansion, feeling distinctly dissatisfied and very perturbed. It shouldn’t have gone that way. Wesley should have been more on guard, more worried; shouldn’t have been flippant. I suppose he feels all safe and sound inside the Slayer’s house. But everyone has to move out of that safety sooner or later. And that’s when I’ll have you. All of you.

Fooling himself into believing that the Slayer’s people would be easy targets, Angel discounted their combined strengths, knowing as he did, that divided they would all fall. Like dominos. . .

 

Book Two, chapter 21. An unhurried sense of time.


Time is an illusion. Lunchtime doubly so.
Douglas Adams


We've erased a lot of the distinctions between night and day,
between weekday and weekend.
Our notions of time and space are collapsing.
Susan Orlean, Saturday Night in America


On Saturday, when Giles had been home for a couple of days, Spike showed up alone at the Magic Box, with a couple of books in hand and something obviously on his mind. It was fairly early for him to be up and around, which indicated something of importance. He’d come in through the tunnels, using the fairly busy underground routes in and around Sunnydale. The girls were meeting him here later, after they did some shopping. Buffy knew he was going to tell Giles about Dawn, and they’d told Dawn together what Spike was planning.

Giles was, for once, alone in the shop, Anya giving him the flimsy excuse of needing some girl time to herself and requesting the day off. He’d obliged, noting that something was bothering the girl, but secure that when she felt up to it, she’d no doubt tell them all what was on her mind.

“Rupert.” Spike rarely used given names in proper forms and when he did, the person always knew there was something important about to be said. “Niblet got into your flat when you were gone. Took some of the books Oxford brought.” He placed the set of four on the table, laying the smallest on the top. “She read them. Searchin’ out how she got here.”

The older man walked around the counter toward the books. “What did she find?”

Expelling air in a deep sigh, Spike sat down with his arms across the back of chair, unsure how to just say this. “She found out who she is.”

“What? Spike what do you mean she found out who she is?” Giles was confused. “Just tell me.”

After their talk the other day, when Dawn had slipped and told them, Spike had asked her for the journal so that he and Buffy could go over it. She’d given it to them and they’d read the thing together, picking up things that Dawn had missed, instances that she wouldn’t have known about.

Spike gestured toward the smallest journal. “Need to read that one Rupert. Should answer all your questions.”

Not wanting to wait, Rupert asked him again. “What’s in it?”

“Jus’ read the bloody thing. Answers are all in there.” Done with his questions, Spike got up and went back downstairs to start filling mail orders.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Two and a half hours later, Giles closed the journal and wiped his eyes, answers to nearly all his questions regarding the Key filling his head. The journal also supplied a few other answers, unfortunately those answers were for questions Giles had never bothered to pose before. He’d known, after they destroyed the Sunnydale branch of The Initiative, that human and demon experimentation had been an ongoing practice in the labs. He’d known and hadn’t once thought that samples might have been taken from either Spike or Buffy. Hadn’t even thought to look for them in the aftermath.

Giles was now faced with the truth that it wouldn’t have mattered even if he had thought to go back; however, he was also realizing that somewhere, someone had the samples that hadn’t been destroyed. Sometime in the future, some bizarre hybrid like Adam could be reconstructed from those samples. He stared off, not really seeing his surroundings, instead letting his mind drift back nearly two years. Defeating Adam and the Initiative had taken the combined strengths of all of them, and at the end, even Spike had been of some assistance. There was no telling what they might face in the future, what madman could possibly dream up with the samples. It almost didn’t bear contemplating.

His supposition about the monks had been correct, which in hindsight was of little comfort. They had been capable of manipulating energy with far greater skill than he’d ever seen or encountered and it appeared they were not originally part of this dimension. But the vessel they used to house the Key was something else entirely. The vessel was purely human – as much as the child of any vampire and slayer could be – and although she had been manufactured – she was most definitely the child of Buffy and Spike.

Which explained so much. The irony of the situation was that all summer, Spike had stayed to protect Buffy’s sister, never once imagining that Dawn was something more. That Spike harbored feelings for Dawn and they were reciprocated was never a question, at least in his mind. Now the information in the journal was doubly important, but Giles doubted any of them but him were aware of that fact. If the child of a slayer and a vampire was strong enough to house an eternal elemental energy, there’s no telling what else that child or other children were capable of, what other strengths they would exhibit.

The coming months with Connor were going to be enlightening ones.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


It was domestic and very coupley of them; something that Buffy had never done with any of her other boyfriends, but everyone else was out doing their own thing and well, they needed to do some shopping. The house was dangerously low on groceries. But at least they had money to do the shopping with, because Giles had come through in a big way.

Unbeknownst to her, Giles had gone to the Council asking them for some financial support for their only active slayer. Citing the need for her to maintain her own household, since she had a dependent sister, Giles had pretty much effectively blackmailed the Council into providing housing expenses and incidentals. The Council had, in typical fashion, asked for concessions from Giles on her behalf and he’d resisted, refusing to budge on his position of requesting the necessary funds. But the Council had conceded the need for separate households, and understanding that the sister in question was not just another teenager; so they’d made arrangements for the payment, in full, of the mortgage that was still outstanding. All other household expenses, including the electricity and water bills, would be paid monthly out of an account Giles would manage. Anything else that was needed would have to be supplied by the Slayer herself.

So here they were, in the supermarket, her and Spike with the baby, shopping. Picking out foods. Buying diapers. Getting formula. Doing stuff she never ever thought she’d be doing, with probably the last person she’d ever thought to be doing all those things. But it was fun. Spike had a weird way of making everything easy. He was tossing boxes of pasta in the cart, while Buffy held the baby, dragging the cart behind him, grumbling all the while good-naturedly about how this was ruining his image.

Connor was resting against her shoulder and Buffy tried to reach for a jar of sauce that was over her head and she nearly brought down the whole display on top of the two of them. A little old lady who was in the aisle with them gasped, drawing Spike’s attention and he was there, holding the jars up, before any of them could fall. He got them back up on the shelf, then shifted his attention to her. He was all set to yell, but the look on her face stopped him short, so instead he gathered her into his arms, holding them both close.

“All right, sunshine?” He kissed her forehead, his hand cupping Connor’s as he let her lean into his chest.

“Yeah. I think so.” But she was shaking and he could feel it, so he knew she wasn’t really okay.

“How’s m’sprog?” Spike lifted the baby up onto his shoulder, wrapping his arm around Buffy. She was overreacting and they both knew it, but he wasn’t going to mention it. And they both knew it was because of the baby.

Neither of them was paying attention to anything around them until the old lady whose gasp had alerted Spike patted Buffy on the back. “Its okay dear. First baby’s take a bit of getting used to. You’ll learn.”

Buffy lifted her head to gaze into the kind face and sniffled. “I’m not used to this.”

“Its okay dear. You and your husband will find your way.” She smiled at the two of them, patting Buffy again, then laid her hand on Connor’s back. “It’s a boy, yes? I’m sure he’ll grow up big and strong, just like his daddy, here. Congratulations and good luck.”

With that, the little old lady walked away, but not before winking at Spike.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Cordelia was sitting on a lounge chair, listening to the waves break gently on the Mexican shore when the buzzing of her cell phone interrupted. Grumbling half-heartedly, she flipped open the phone without looking at the incoming number.

“Hello Cordy. How’s my favorite girl?”

His voice sent shivers down her spine and she didn’t speak, almost didn’t breathe.

“C’mon, Cordy, don’t forget to breathe.” The false sincerity in his tone was her undoing and she gasped in a few quick puffs of air.

Listening to her strangled gasps, Angel chuckled. “You know what’s great about cell phones? You never really know where the other person is calling you from.”

Despite the fact she knew he couldn’t be that close, since the nearest shelter was five hundred feet behind her, Cordelia whirled around, looking for him.

“Know what else is great about cell phones?” He paused, waiting for his question to sink in. “You can track them.” He laughed then, the sound going right through her.

The connection ended and Cordelia was left staring wild-eyed all around her, goosebumps erupting all over her skin.


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


Tara had gone on a date, with someone that Oz had introduced her to, and that was slightly weird, at least to Buffy. Spike was out playing poker and she was kind of at loose ends, although Connor was a handful. He was on the floor, playing with the toys everyone kept buying him whenever they went out, while she folded laundry. I am domestic Buffy. Go me. She smiled a little, wondering when she’d become a mom and how it didn’t give her such a weird feeling.

Connor was a sweet baby, as long as he wasn’t howling to be fed, and he was generally quiet. When the clothes were all folded Buffy watched Connor for a minute, as his plump little fist waved around the rattle. Aren’t babies his age supposed to just lay there and do nothing? According to the book Wesley had gotten – What to Expect the First Year – Connor wasn’t supposed to be moving or doing anything other than sleeping and eating. Instead he wriggled around and held things, grabbed at all sorts of stuff they waved in his face; he recognized them all too. He knew whenever Spike was in the room, sometimes crying until the vampire caved and picked him up, reacting whenever he heard Spike’s voice. Thinking for a moment, Buffy decided to try something. Very softly she called out his name, watching him as he stilled. She did it again and it was very clear that he heard her. The third time, he was struggling to move in her direction.

Buffy got up, walked a bit toward the front door and called him again. His arms and legs went crazy, flailing as he sensed she’d moved further away from him. She could see his face screw up into a bit of a scowl, which was adorable on his tiny features. Buffy moved closer and called his name. If a baby could snap his head up and look directly at someone, Connor did. Buffy called his name a third time and his little legs pumped up in the air like he was trying to run to her. Buffy laughed and Connor did it again. Dropping down to her knees, scooting over to him, she leaned down and nuzzled him.

“How’s my big boy?” Play nibbling on him, she blew raspberries onto his cheek and when Connor grabbed at her, Buffy cooed at him, “there’s my baby.”

“No. He’s not yours. Projecting much?” Dawn’s voice came at her from the kitchen and Buffy looked up into the angry eyes of her sister. No. She’s not my sister. That’s my daughter.

“Hey Dawnie. How was the movie?” Not realizing that Dawn was brewing for a fight, Buffy went right back to the baby without waiting for her answer.

“He’s not yours you know. Not really.” Finally Buffy heard the words Dawn was saying and she picked up her head to look at her.

“Dawn? I know that. I’m just playing with him.” Dawn made a face and Buffy waited for the outburst.

“But he’s not yours.” Oh, okay, that’s what’s bothering her.

Leaving the baby where he was, Buffy got to her feet, walking closer to Dawn. “I know who his parents are Dawnie. But its not fair to him to treat him like he’s unwanted. He didn’t ask for any of this.”

Dawn looked away, a set look on her features, “he’s still not your baby.”

“No. He’s not.” Buffy reached for her, pulling Dawn’s chin so that the teen had to look at her. “I don’t pretend that he’s mine either.”

Dawn’s eyebrow raised and her hip thrust out and oh boy does she look like her father right now, and Buffy could see Spike in her so clearly and she was just watching her not really hearing the words her sis. . daughter was speaking. “You sure about that?”

“Am I sure about what?” Buffy was confused.

“God are you even listening to me? Do you even know I’m here?” Dawn’s voice rose in volume, climbing toward ear-splitting levels.

“I know you’re here. Dawnie, why would I pretend that he’s mine?” Refusing to let her pull away, Buffy wrapped her hand around Dawn’s wrist. Dawn tried pulling away, but Buffy held on.

“Why wouldn’t you? Its Angel’s baby. . . isn’t that what you’ve always wanted?” There was real sarcasm in her tone and Buffy though perhaps Dawn’s reaction was partially for herself and partially for Spike. Does she think that I’m doing this because Connor is Angel’s? Knowing that she’d already had this discussion with Spike and he knew how she felt, but that no one else did, Buffy quickly realized that everyone might be thinking the same thing.

“No. I don’t want his baby. Honestly? I don’t want anything to do with him.” Buffy looked into Dawn’s eyes, trying to make her understand. “I’m so over Angel.”

Big tears sprung into Dawn’s eyes and Buffy pulled her close. “What’s really wrong?”

“Nothing.” Her jaw clenched and she pulled away from Buffy.

“Dawnie. Something’s bugging you. So dish.” Buffy grabbed Dawn’s hand and pulled her over to where Connor was on the floor. She sat down, then looked up at the teen and said, “c’mon, sweetie, sit down here with me.”

“Its just, you know, I see you with him and it seems like all you want is to take care of him and you know, what about Spike? And what’s with the baby? I mean I thought you didn’t want . . . you never said you wanted babies and now all of a sudden Angel’s baby is here and now you’re all oohh baby and aww and how come. . . its just not fair.”

Buffy hid her smile, because Dawn hadn’t breathed through any of that halting explanation, which didn’t even make much sense at all. The last words struck a chord, though, so Buffy focused on them. “What’s not fair?”

Finally breaking down, Dawn choked out, “because he gets to be a baby and I . . . I don’t . . All my memories about that are false. None of them are real and it . . would have been . . . “

Oh. That’s what’s this was all about. “It would have been different if at least part of them were real?” Buffy wasn’t sure what Dawn was getting at, or really trying to say other than she wished she’d been given memories of growing up with her real parents.

Dawn wiped her eyes, not looking at Buffy. “Yeah. If you know, the monks had planted memories of you and me and Spike as, you know, what we really are.”

“Would’ve been way complicated, don’t you think?” Buffy thought about it for a moment, then blurted out, “but couldn’t you just picture the look on Giles’ face? He’d have headed right for the books.”

Dawn let out a watery giggle. “What would’ve been even funnier would have been Xander’s reaction.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


Patrolling with the Buffybot was enough to drive him round the bend. Spike was not looking forward to being out there, trailing after the robotic image of his love, but they had all decided that one of them should be home at all times with the baby. Connor was thriving, had grown like a weed in the last two weeks, and was constantly wriggling around; doing things a normal infant didn’t do until much later. Things at the house had settled down also, Wesley had moved out to join Giles at his flat, since sleeping on the couch was decidedly uncomfortable and Buffy and Spike were contemplating a move into Joyce’s old room.

It was nearly time to get out there and patrol, and since it was his night to go, he was restless and pacing around like a panther without enough room to roam. Spike was also missing Buffy, since sleeping with an insatiable infant wasn’t his idea of fun. Probably as a side effect of his growth spurts, Connor was still eating every couple of hours, which left their sex life suffering. Not that Spike minded, well, he did, but the spawn came first, much as he hated admitting it. He didn’t care much as long as the sprog didn’t yowl at the top of his lungs, in the ear splitting howl he seemed to have perfected, whenever his belly wasn’t full.

There were moments too, when Buffy couldn’t soothe the boy and only Spike’s touch would settle him down. His theory was that the infant was used to the lack of a heartbeat and it in some way comforted him to be held by Spike. So there were long nights when he and the sprog were up and everyone else was asleep. Spike realized how funny it was when he was up late, the television on and he found himself with the infant in his arms and he was talking out loud to the baby. It had been the most surreal moment of his unlfe; William the Bloody, the Slayer of Slayers, watching late night infomercials with a two week old infant in his arms, one he had no intentions ever of harming. It was enough to cause him a serious case of, as Dawn or Buffy would put it, the wiggins.

Everyone was gathered in the Magic Box; Giles, Wesley and Anya arguing over some obscure point of demonology, Buffy was holding Connor and making faces and noises at him, Oz was hanging out by the front door, waiting for Tara to come back from classes and Dawn was also due to arrive in any minute. But he was restless. There was a itch along his spine that no amount of scratching would alleviate. He couldn’t shake the feeling; it was like a hum just beneath his skin, a nagging sense of some impending disaster.

He snorted mentally, ticking off the number of things that could explode in their faces. The Huntsman and the hounds had effectively stopped hunting the innocent or nearly innocent; Willow had drifted in and out of their lives, meeting here and there, accidently running into Tara, who still put her off about having a real discussion and then there was Angelus. That at the moment was his biggest worry. Angelus had been too quiet in the last couple of weeks, leaving subtle reminders of his presence.

The scariest moment had been when he’d tailed Tara home just a couple of nights ago. But that was nothing, really, in the scheme of things. Spike knew Angelus better than any one else, and he knew this was all part of the game, lulling them all into a sense of security and then he would strike. And strike hard.

He stopped pacing, turning on his heel to watch Buffy, his head cocked to the side. She was not classically beautiful, not like some other women he’d known, there was too much character in her face for that, but there was a beauty all the same. A smile traced across his face, as he stood just watching her, he completely was unaware his actions had garnered his own audience. Anya nudged Giles, who was standing behind her, pointing her chin in their direction.

Spike was standing on the upper level of the store, his eyes trained on Buffy and the baby, an expression on his face that Giles had never seen before. The soft lighting of the area at the table complimented Buffy but it was also clear that it wouldn’t matter what light she was bathed in, because it was obvious that in Spike’s eyes Buffy was everything. Anya sighed softly and Giles glanced down at her, catching the sadly wistful look in her eyes.

Anya had been unusually and uncharacteristically quiet since the arrival of Wesley and Connor. There were times he wanted to question her about why, and he’d heard from Wesley about the incident when Xander had frightened her, but he was fairly certain the reason behind her introspection. Even before his successful trip to England, Giles had begun to notice a rift between the former demon and her boyfriend, however he’d chosen to stay out of their situation. But the sadness in her eyes as she watched Spike eyeing Buffy called to him.

Giles laid a hand on her shoulder, squeezing gently, silently lending her some support. Spike moved, breaking the spell they were all under, leaning down to say something that only Buffy could hear and Giles made a snap decision. Buffy’s face lit up, her eyes glowing as Spike’s hand reached out to ghost along her cheek and she leaned into his touch. Watching the two of them, Giles knew he had to do what the crazy notion in his head was telling him to do.

Once more Spike leaned down, whispering something into Buffy’s ear that caused her to blush hotly and swat his arm. The leer on Spike’s face left no illusions about what he’d said or what was on his mind but somehow that didn’t really bother Giles.

“Buffy? Why don’t you go with Spike tonight,” and glancing down at the woman standing next to him, Giles continued, “Anya and I will stay with the baby.”

With a quick glance up at Spike, Buffy asked, “you sure? You don’t mind?”

“No. I don’t, but, well, I didn’t exactly. . . “ he hemmed and hawed so much that Anya finally came to his rescue, announcing, “I don’t mind. I’ve nothing else to do.”

“There. Its settled. You and Spike go patrol and we’ll sit with the baby.”


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Wesley was heading to Los Angeles – in the quest for a demon-friendly surgeon – they’d run up against a brick wall. Dr. Thomas wasn’t a neurologist, was in fact an orthopedist who’s first choice in medicine had been obstetrics and the only other surgeon in Sunnydale was another obstetrician. Two others they’d contacted had refused, so Wesley had volunteered to try and get his contact at Wolfram & Hart to give up more information. The good news was they now had x-rays of Spike’s head, so that Wesley could use those to show them what the situation was.

Giles had privately told Wesley that it appeared they were going to have to contact the Initiative, which everyone had agreed was a last resort.

He was leaving as Dawn and Casey trooped in the door; his meeting with Lilah Morgan scheduled for nine. Dawn watched him go, a question in her eyes, but because Casey was present she never voiced it.

Anya’s greeting was subdued and Dawn knew there was something bothering the ex-demon but she was in the dark about that too. She was beginning to think that no one trusted her at all, when Buffy said, “Dawnie? Giles and Anya are gonna stay home and babysit tonight.”

“I don’t need one.” She very nearly stamped her foot, stopping when she realized how very childish that would be.

“Not for you – for Connor.” Buffy rolled her eyes.

“Oh.” Shrugging her shoulders, Dawn said, “okay then.” She thought for a moment, realizing Buffy was supposed to be home that night and Spike was supposed to patrol with the Buffybot. “Where are you going?”

“Out with Spike.”

They’d told Casey that Connor was Spike’s nephew, and that his mother had been badly injured in an accident and wasn’t going to recover. Since Spike was her only family, he got custody because the baby’s father was a jerk and in jail. The story wasn’t far off the mark and explained why Buffy and Spike had the baby.

“You kids have fun.” Dawn giggled when she realized Spike was tugging her sister toward the door, his impatience evident. “Gee Spike, you’re not gonna wait until full dark?”

His “no” was said as the door was closing behind them.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


So far, patrol had been a huge bust, pretty much the way it had been since Angelus had come back into town. It was so dead in fact, that Spike was beginning to question why they were even bothering anymore, because even the humans seemed to have noticed. There were more people on the streets than he remembered seeing in a long time, and Spike looked over at Buffy, who was walking to his right, a somewhat distracted air about her.

“How come everyone’s out and about?” He was bored and if something didn’t show up soon, the itching along his spine was going to drive him round the bend.

“Thanksgiving is next weekend.” Buffy scrunched up her face, thinking about the holiday. ‘First one without Mom.” She sighed. “I guess I’m gonna have to figure out how to not ruin a turkey and learn how to make a decent pie.”

“Seem to remember that last one wasn’t so bad.” He swung around to watch her, walking backwards.

“Please, that turkey was overcooked and the only thing that came out perfectly were the mashed potatoes. Everything else was bad.” She made a face at him, more than willing to admit she wasn’t up for cooking an entire Thanksgiving meal.

“Ah. . . sunshine, you were also fighin’ a whole tribe of mystical Chumash that day.”

He paused searching his memory. “Yours truly was tied up and unable to help, Red was going on about exploitin’ the natives an’ the whelp ended up all sickly. It’s a wonder anythin’ turned out well.”

She stared at him, looking for any sign of sarcasm. When she found none, Buffy nodded. “There was a lot going on. I don’t remember though, why it was so important that everything turn out perfectly. It was only us, the only new one was you.”

Spike stopped walking. His eyes were on her and Buffy couldn’t fight the blush that bloomed across her cheeks. Dark blue eyes bore into hers and she didn’t want to blurt something out that would further embarrass her.

“So the only thing different was me.” He reached out to touch her chin. Deciding to leave that one alone, he thought about the time he’d spent with Giles. Knowing she’d never share her real feelings unless he was up front about it first, Spike whispered gruffly, “never did thank Red for that spell.”

“Thank her?” Buffy looked up at that, her eyes fixed on him. “Why’d do you wanna do that?”

“She gave me somethin’ I’d wanted.” He paused, watching as what he was saying registered. “Didn’t wanna admit it then but yeah, I wanted you.”

The truth was there, easily broadcast by his eyes on her. “Spike? Promise you won’t laugh?”

“Won’t laugh.” He kissed her forehead, waiting for her to speak.

“I thought you were the best kisser in the world.”

His smirk was back and he swaggered, then swooped back to tug her along. “Would’ve shagged you senseless if it had gone on longer. Then Cardboard wouldn’t have been around.”

Thoroughly surprising him, Buffy said, “I was trying to be normal. Riley was normal.”

Spike snorted out something too low for Buffy to make out, turning an innocent look on her. “Nahuh, Spike tell me.”

“All right. Should’ve . . . just. . . dunno. Soldier boy got off on the pain. Liked bein’ miserable.” He ducked his head, not looking at her, aware that this was a potentially dangerous subject for them to be discussing, but as usual, his mouth was moving before he realized it. “Didn’t like not bein’ the strong one. Tried to make you feel like you weren’t good enough.”

Buffy was quiet for so long that he thought she was building up for a good fight, but when he stole a glance at her, she was staring down at the ground, watching where they were walking. In a very small voice, she said, ‘I guess I missed that. I thought I needed normal. Everyone said that. . . . normal was what I was supposed to want.”

He made some sort of grumbling noise, but she was speaking again, “only one person ever saw me. Only one person that ever really got me.”

“Oh?” Half expecting her to say Willow or Angel, Spike was surprised when she flicked his arm. “What’s that for?”

“Yep. Only one.” She looked up at him, the soft moonlight playing across her features, her eyes dark and twinkling. “Imagine that a vampire understanding a slayer.”

Spike didn’t say anything, just watched her from under his lashes, waiting for her to speak. “Angel never really understood me. Did lots of things that . . . He made decisions on what he thought was right. But only . . .it was you. You were the only one who got me.”

Buffy stepped closer and his arms automatically curled around her. Reaching up, she curled her arms around his neck and Spike grinned. “I know you Slayer. That’s why.”

She whispered back at him breathlessly. “Yeah. I guess you do.”

He was about to lean down to kiss her when a voice came out of the shadows. “Really, that’s just. . . So sweet.”

They broke apart, going into an anticipatory stance, their figures almost back to back, waiting for Angel to show himself. He didn’t disappoint, emerging from behind a crypt, deceptively at ease. “Nice night, moon’s shining down ever so softly, and two lovers are out for a stroll. Makes a pretty picture.”

Unconsciously they shifted, moving so that their dominant hands were on the outside, standing almost side by side.

“You two are soo adorable together. Just cuter than anything. But I have to ask, who’s home with the baby? Did you just leave the two kiddies alone? Or is Willow’s girl there? Hhmmm?” Angel leaned back on his heels, his hands in his pockets.

Neither one of them spoke, for once Spike holding his tongue. But there must have been some change in his expression, because Angel started speaking again. “You know Spike, this won’t last. She’s human and, well, fickle. Can’t decide what she wants, can’t keep a man. You’ll get tired of her and leave.”

Without warning, about ten or so of Angel’s minions jumped down from the tops of nearby crypts and they were surrounded. Angel drifted off, knowing they would make short work of them, uncaring of the losses.

They were fighting, punching and staking right and left, and suddenly Buffy realized she’d gotten separated from Spike. Dusting the last of the minions she’d been fighting, Buffy searched around looking for him. Moving back toward where she last remembered seeing him, she didn’t start to panic until he wasn’t there, and there were only piles of dust scattered around. Moving faster, she half ran toward his old crypt, her eyes sweeping over the grounds of Restfield. Spying a dark spot and seeing something move in the shadows, Buffy set off in that direction, only to skid to a halt when she recognized what she was looking at. It was Spike leaning over someone, talking and gesturing wildly.

Buffy walked closer, then caught a glimpse of who Spike was talking to.

It was Drusilla.
 

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