Title: The Sacrifice (The Peacemaker Prophesy, pt 14)

Author: Nimue

Rating: PG-13

Feedback: Yes, please

Disclaimer: All characters belong to Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, UPN,

Fox... Just Borrowing.

Summary: Spike is mortally wounded and alone after a visit from Drusilla. Drusilla is caught by Gwydion. Buffy makes a sacrifice to help Spike and waits for the sunrise in hopes it will save him.

The Sacrifice

Drusilla crept back into the house unnoticed, or so she thought. She tiptoed like a child fearing being caught peeking at her Christmas presents.

"Drusilla?" the polished, perfect, voice sounded from a darkened corner. He stepped into the soft lamp light in front of the frightened girl.

"Y..yes."

"Where have you been, my dear girl?" Gwydion asked, stepping into her path.

Drusilla thought a moment. "Been to see Spike."

"And what did you see, little one?"

"Death," Drusilla muttered.

"Did you speak?"

"Yes."

"About?"

"Love."

"Do you love him still, dear?"

"Yes," she answered. "But our time has passed."

"Did you..."

"No," she answered, reading his thoughts. "He tastes like ashes." Gwydion stared at the dark girl for a long moment before nodding her dismissal. Slowly, Drusilla glided out of the room as if she walked upon the air.

*****

"Buffy?"

Buffy was pacing back and forth across the baby's room. Not long after their return, Emma had erupted into hysterical screams, uncharacteristic terror for the most content child alive. Emma was cradled against Buffy's chest as the woman silently stalked the room.

"Buffy?"

"Get.Out." she hissed at him. Angel stood in the doorway looking hurt, confused, guilty.

"Buffy, I..."

"You what?" she snapped. All semblance of rational thought had disappeared when she felt Spike's blood crawl across her fingers. When she had seen his eyes blankly stare at her face.

"I had no... I didn't mean to.."

"To what, Angel?"

"I..."

"To kill him?" she asked, her voice laced with fear and rage.

"Buffy, he may not be dead."

"No thanks to you."

"It *was* an accident."

"An accident," Buffy whispered, the tears starting again. "An accident," she repeated.

"It was.."

"Regardless," she said, fighting off tears, "you might just have destroyed us tonight, so forgive me if I am not feeling very forgiving."

"I didn't mean.."

"Mean to take away her father? Mean to break my heart? Again?" Fire and ice battled in her voice.

"Buffy..."

"Get.Out." Buffy said, flatly.

"Right. I'll go down to the basement and we'll..."

"Get out of the house. Go home. Live your... unlife. I'll take care of this myself," Buffy ordered, not thinking, just reacting.

"I promised Spike that...."

"Lot of good that'll do now,:" Buffy snapped. She breathed deeply, still pacing along the carpet, the crying baby against her chest. Fear and anger and hurt controlled her now. "Look," she said, in a forced moment of sanity, "please go before either of us say things we can't take back."

"Buffy, I *am* sorry."

"Please," Buffy said, sobbing now, her shaking body matching her daughter's. Her sadness dropped on Angel like a brick. Slowly, he turned to go.

*****

Spike laid there in the darkness, the candle flames flickering against the wall, creating long, thin shadows. He watched the shadows because he thought that if he closed his eyes, he may not have the energy to open them again. The bleeding had stopped , but he could feel the sticky substance of life and of death all around him. The wound was pulling tight. So there were still healing powers. Still, he thought, too little too late.

He thought about trying to get up. To find something to clean off the mess, but his insides felt torn in two and his head felt as if it were made of lead. Moving seemed... impossible. Spike watched the candle flicker against the wall. He had died once before alone. He did not care to do it again.

*****

A slight knock came at Emma's door. "Buffy?" Buffy stood at the window, leaning against the frame. Spike always stood here with Emma. She could feel him here. Emma was in an uneasy sleep in her arm. The baby whimpered and moaned, wriggling as if every bad dream had descended upon her all at once.

Seven fairies still stood sentry on the sill, but they did not flutter or dance. They sat quietly, wings folded n the dying moonlight. Not much longer until dawn.

"Buffy?"

Buffy turned her exhausted, tear stained face toward the voice at the door. Tara stood, Willow shadowing her. She was holding a small, leather knapsack. "Yeah," Buffy muttered, not moving from the spot.

Tara stepped gently into the room, setting the bag on the recliner. "I packed up some medical supplies. Well, Willow did. Stuff we found around here. You have a lot."

"Occupational hazard," Buffy commented, trying to smile.

Tara's faced stilled, became serious. "I..I know that you... and Spike.. aren't big fans of magic..."

"No... no... no bringing people back," Buffy said quietly, her tears starting again. Sometimes she felt like a fountain.

"No," Tara responded, shaking her head. "Nothing like that."

Slowly, Tara slid two bottles from the knapsack. One red. One blue. "These are... potions.. that I made. No dark magic. Mostly just herbal medicines with a little... Goddess juice," she continued smiling. Buffy furrowed her brow. "Think of it as white magic. Booster. The blue bottle goes on the wound itself once it has been cleaned. It should help seal it off."

Buffy looked at Tara uneasily, but nodded in understanding.

"The red one," Tara continued, holding it up in the soft lamplight, "is a little stronger. It's an infusion of herbs and a little magic, mixed in blood."

Buffy jumped a bit. "What blood?"

"The regular," Tara said, smiling softly. "From the fridge."

"Oh," Buffy muttered. "Should it be... you know... should you use..?"

"Yours?" Tara asked, reading her face more than her thoughts.

"Slayer blood is the strongest, but the infusion takes too much. Spike would never want..."

Buffy walked to Tara. "But some would help?"

Tara looked worried, not sure how to answer. Draining Buffy was wrong on so many levels. Not to mention that if Spike survived, he was likely to chastise Tara into the ground. For a moment, she considered chuckling at that thought. "Technically, yes, but this should do just fine. It's not a cure, Buffy. It's just going to help him... recharge. It won't last. Just a few hours. Hopefully we can find a doctor in the meantime."

"But my blood would help?" Emma shifted in her mother's arms, crying out softly. Buffy patted her back instinctively, pulling the baby tighter against her.

"Y...yes."

Buffy looked down at Emma's pretty face. Felt her skin. Toyed with her little fingers. I have to do something, Buffy thought. I left him alone there to die. Softly, Buffy kissed the top of Emma's head and motioned to Willow. Willow stepped silently from the doorway and gently took Emma from Buffy. "Let's go," Buffy said softly, grabbing Tara's hand.

*****

They stood face to face in the bathroom, the red bottle and a candle set between them on the cold marble countertop. Tara's eyes were closed and she was chanting softly, passing an athame back and forth through the flame. Buffy thought she should be scared, or at least nervous, but instead, she felt only a faint numbness and resolution.

Tara's eyes flickered opened and she took Buffy's hand in hers, slowly turning it until the soft light skin of her inner arm glistened in the candlelight. Buffy nodded and Tara drew the knife across Buffy's wrist in one quick stroke. Her blood bubbled to the surface in a neat, red line, pooling along her skin. Tara softly turned her arm again, allowing Buffy's very essence to drip softly into the bottle.

Buffy closed her eyes. There was no pain. No worry greater than her love for Spike and their daughter. In that moment, it dawned on her that no sacrifice was too great. She squeezed her hand into a fist and felt the blood pump steadily from the wound. Instead of feeling drained, Buffy felt as if she were filling. Filling with hope, determination, resolve, love. She could save him.

*****

The first rays of the sun began to peak over the horizon in shades of pink and amber and gold. Buffy was packing everything back into the knapsack, her arm neatly bandaged and cared for by Tara.

"Buffy," Tara began. "He has to drink the whole bottle. All of it. It will only help for a few hours. A bit longer with your blood. It won't do anything if he's already...."

"I know," Buffy said, not wanting to hear it said. She lifted the knapsack over her shoulder.

"Since it is daylight, Willow and I are going to go find a doctor who might know something about..."

"Start with the nurse who delivered Emma," Buffy said.

"Xander will stay with Dawn. Anya's still trying to track down

Giles."

"Track down?"

"She called for hours and finally got a hold of a woman."

"A woman?" This was no time to deal with Giles' personal life.

"A woman. Said he was on sabbatical. Some sort of vision quest or something."

"Well, ask her to keep trying," Buffy said. Dawn came in the room and took her niece from Willow, freeing the two women to leave on their mission. Buffy stared out the window, the first few rays of the sun burning into the morning sky. "I have to go," she said solemnly. She walked to Dawn touching her face. "I love you. You know that."

Dawn nodded, teary eyed.

"Take care of her. We'll be back soon." Buffy leaned down, kissing Emma's forehead, then turned away at a run through the door.

To be contd.

Title: Salvation (The Peacemaker Prophesy, pt 15)

Author: Nimue

Rating: PG-13

Feedback: Yes, please

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

Summary: Buffy leaves to try and save Spike. Gwydion's plan is back in

action. Dawn makes a discovery.

Salvation

As Buffy jogged down the sidewalk, the golden orb of the sun made its true appearance in the sky ahead of her. It seemed she was always running. That she never had enough moments lying in her bed or nights curled around him. It was always running. Always fighting. Always struggling. This was her life. Only thing that made it bearable was that it wasn't just hers anymore. This was about all of them. Every last one. But especially Emma. And especially Spike. Why had it taken so long to see that?

*****

"Gwydion?" Simon said quietly, entering his master's chambers.

"Yes, Simon," Gwydion answered, fastening his cufflinks and reviewing his reflection in the mirror. A reflection he hadn't seen for over a century.

"The new informant came to tell us that Buffy left her home at the first

rays."

"Did you ask about this child?" Gwydion asked, combing his silky, sandy

hair.

"The child was not with her. There are others in the house though. The

witch and the shamed one left shortly after the Slayer. The sister and at least one other are still inside."

"And Angel?"

"I do not know, sir. A guard saw him leave late last night, but no one

seems to know if he has returned."

Gwydion chuckled. "Proud little Slayer just made the task at hand that much easier," he said, softly smiling.

"Sir?"

"Angel killed her mate. Rather than continue to accept his protection, her rashness won her over. She excused him."

"Her mate?"

"Spike," Gwydion commented, his voice full of annoyance.

"Pardon, sir, but I thought..."

"Will *any* of you understand the *simple* concept that he was attempting to play us?" Gwydion sighed, exasperated. "Spike belongs to the Slayer. He has no intention of betraying her. His death is... fortunate."

"Are you certain he is dead?"

"Well," Gwydion said, shrugging slightly, "even if he lives, he will be of no use today. After the child is dead, he is merely an embarrassment to the breed. Though I *am* dreadfully sorry that I will miss seeing his face as he watches me murder his precious little girl." With that, Gwydion turned on a heel, brushed past Simon and started out into the day.

*****

Buffy fumbled with the keys, dropping them twice before unlocking the door of the Magic Box and pushing her way through with a jingle. She locked the door carefully behind her and raced though the darkened, silent shop and down the basement stairs.

The trip through the basement, the maze of tunnels below, seemed to take an eternity, even at a supernatural pace. Her concern had turned into desperation and her heart was exploding in her chest. She needed to be there last night. She needed to get there now. She dreaded what she would find when she arrived.

Finally, she reached the back door to the crypt, opening it softly with a muted click. The room was dimly lit, a solitary near-dead candle flickering on the table next to the bed. Buffy followed the weak stream of light across to the pillows.

What she saw was not something she would soon forget.

Buffy raced to the bed. Spike was lying there, arms still at his sides.

His face was white and sunken. He didn't move. Not even a twitch. Her

hand clapped over her mouth as the tears stung her face. "Spike?" she

whispered, touching his hand. It was cold. She had forgotten when his

touch was this cold. "Spike?" She pressed her fingers hard to the inside of his wrist. Nothing. The panic began to creep in, bubbling though her veins. She adjusted her fingers and squeezed again.

It was there.

Spike was alive.

Quickly, Buffy pulled open the drawer by the bed and it clattered to the

floor. She rummaged through, even as it still fell, and grabbed two

candles, lighting them from the one left next to the bed.

In the light, the sight was worse.

Spike was unnaturally pale. Even for Spike. He wore a sad expression. Her eyes scanned down his body, visually examining him just as he had done for her when she'd escaped from hell into this very spot. His shirt was soaked with blood. It spidered out along the sheets, spreading and pooling like mercury spilled from broken glass. Buffy forced down the sobs, shook the panic, and grabbed the collar of his shirt with both hands, ripping his shirt end to end. She pulled the tattered material aside terrified of what she would find.

On his right side, just below his ribs, was an enormous jagged gash, half the length of her forearm and so deep she couldn't fathom surviving it even with her own healing powers. The edges of the wound were knitting together quickly. So he did have some accelerated recovery, she thought. Still. This was.. this was horrible.

Buffy wet a cloth with a bottle of water from the make shift medical kit and laid it across his forehead. "It'll be OK, Spike," she whispered, over and over, hoping that if she said it enough times, it might just be true. She swallowed her terror and revulsion and set to work wiping all the blood from his skin so that she could get a better look at the wound.

"Jeez, Spike," she said quietly as she worked her way around the edges with an antiseptic. "Can't do anything half way can you?" Her fingers worked gently, one cleaning the wound, the other stroking his hand. "Can't just die, hafta be a vampire. Can't just be a vampire, hafta be the Big Bad. Can't just be the Big Bad, hafta fall in love. Can't just fall in love, hasta be the Slayer. Can't just be in love with the Slayer, hasta love you back. Can't just love each other, hafta have prophesy baby. Can't just get in a fight, have to go get stabbed and try to die. Well, Spike," Her panic rambled senselessly across her lips, "Not going to let you go back to square one. You want it all, gonna hafta be here for it." Buffy fished the blue bottle from the knapsack, closing her eyes and wrapping her hands tight around the blue glass. She hoped, prayed, with every ounce of her energy that this would work. Buffy uncapped the bottle, pouring the foul smelling liquid into the wound, spreading it along the edges, delicately working around the livid skin. Her heart sank further by the moment. He never even flinched.



"Come on, Spike," she whined. Where was Dawn when you needed a good

whining? She slowly covered the wound in gauze, taping the edges

delicately, "There are demons to be fought. Arguments to have. Lots and lots of making up to do. You have to help me out here, you...." Buffy thought hard. What would really get under his skin? "You Wanker," she said, pressing the last piece of tape in place. Still, he never moved.

Buffy stared at him for a second, taking his hand between hers. "Don't you remember, Spike?" she asked, pressing her fingers between his. "You made a promise to a lady."

The tears began again and the panic bubbled back to the surface. She

reached down, fumbling through the bag for the red bottle. Quickly, she

scurried up the bed, pushing his head up and piling pillows behind him.

"Spike," she whispered softly in his ear. "You have to drink this. All of it." Buffy uncapped the bottle, running her finger along the rim until it was red with the infusion. She ran her finger softly over his lips, parting them gently. Pushing his head up with one hand and raising the bottle with the other, she managed to tilt the liquid into his mouth. Her blood. Slayer blood. She knew, even if he was still awake, she could never get him to drink from her. That was one of the things he would never do and no amount of torment of pain or anger would convince him. If he even knew now that her blood had been shed for him, he would be reluctant, if not refuse, to drink. Buffy knew it was the only real hope. She'd have gladly offered her last drop to bring him back.

The elixir slid down his throat only because Buffy forced it. She never saw him drink or noticed him swallow, but the bottle was emptying all the same. It had to work. Had to buy them some time.

When the bottle was empty, she reached across him, setting the empty red

glass on the table and waited. Her hands glided over his face, tracing his cheeks, lips, eyes. "Spike, you have to come back," she whispered, fighting the tears and losing. They slipped along her cheeks and slid onto his face. "We've got work left to do. You're Emma's champion," she continued, sobbing. "You were mine before that. You're still mine." The words barely escaped through the hitching breaths. "Please, Spike. I love you. Please don't go..."

He never moved.

Buffy surrendered, letting the hurt and sadness take over. She curled in a ball next to him, her head buried in his shoulder, her arm draped over his chest and cried. Once again, she was losing someone she loved. Part of her world. The one thing she knew best is that, when it counted, she could not save her own world.

*****

"Wesley?" Angel muttered into the phone.

"What?" Wesley panted, his throat sill raw and throbbing.

"I need your help."

Wesley was silent. "Why does this call surprise me?"

"Look, you are the *last* person I really want to talk to," Angel huffed, annoyance rising, "but I can't contact Giles and I need your help."

"With what?" Wesley hissed.

"It's not for me. It's about Buffy. Well, really ... Spike."

"Spike?" Wesley chuckled. "Why would you help Spike?"

"Wesley, I don't have time for this," Angel snapped. The former Watcher was silent.

"What is it?" he finally asked, the rasp of his voice grating against

Angel.

"The Peacemaker Prophesy."

Wesley chuckled. "Myth."

"No, real," Angel answered. "One *more* wrong for Mr. Research. Do you

remember anything about the ... myth?"

"It's about a creature..."

"Not a creature. A little girl."

"Usually depicted as sort of a seraphim. The myth says that she is the one to unite the worlds, end conflict, resolve wars between dimensions.."

" I know all that," Angel said," Do you remember how?"

"How?"

"It's like a nursery rhyme I can't remember. The Peacemaker has.. power."

"Right," Wesley said, as if vaguely remembering. His annoyance and shock being replaced by his ingrained sense of duty. "I've never seen the Prophesy. Not sure anyone actually has, but the story goes that the

Peacemaker could speak to all creatures, heal all wounds suffered in her

name..."

"That's what I was looking for," Angel exclaimed, as if an old song lyric had been remembered.

"Why?"

"I'll have to explain later," the Vampire answered. He was quiet, trying to swallow his pride. "Thank you, Wesley."

"Right." The phone line clicked dead.

*****

"Xander?" Dawn screamed, her tone caught between fear and awe. "Xander?"

She heard footsteps stampeding up the stairs and a split second later, he appeared panting in the doorway. "What's wrong?" he breathed, leaning against the doorframe. Dawn was in the center of the room, carrying a still fussy Emma. But the room had changed. Xander walked in, eyes wide, trying to take in the sight.

"Why are there butterflies all over the place?" he asked, watching them

come in through the crack in the window. Hundreds of them, lined along the crib, surrounding Dawn in concentric rings.

"I don't think they're butterflies," Dawn said, almost afraid to breathe.

"What do you mean not butterflies? They're all... butterfly-y."

"They have faces," Dawn said, as one landed on Emma and looked at Dawn with tiny, kind eyes.

"Like bug faces?"

"No, like people faces."

"Dawn, I think you've been awake too long," Xander said, walking toward the window. The entire side of the house was covered in the creatures, quietly fluttering their hypnotic, coloured wings. Xander leaned over to the sill and one hopped in front of him. "They have faces!" he gasped, stepping back. He grabbed the top of the window, about to push it flush to the sill.

"No!" Dawn snapped. Xander looked at her oddly. "I... I think these are the fairies."

"Fairies?"

"Buffy wants them here."

"But there are.." Xander looked out the window again, " thousands of them."

"They're supposed to help Emma." Dawn was quiet for a moment. "Xander, if there are so many of them here, maybe something is happening."

"Like what? Fairypalooza?" Xander snarked. Dawn smirked her best

imitation Spike smirk.

"You need to go find Buffy," Dawn ordered, making her way to the crib and setting Emma down. The fairies immediately encircled the crib and fluttered from Dawn.

" I can't leave you alone."

"Believe me, I've got company," Dawn replied. "Emma is more important right now. We need Buffy. Go and find her quick."

"What if..."

"Xander, hurry," Dawn began to whine. Xander took a long look at the girl. Too much like her sister sometimes. He turned from the window and fled out the door.

To be contd.

Title: The Race (The Peacemaker Prophesy, pt 16)

Author: Nimue

Rating: PG-13

Feedback: Yes, please

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

Summary: Buffy grieves for Spike and hopes this is not the end. Anya

finally finds Giles and gets some disturbing news. Xander races to find

Buffy, but will it be in time? Gwydion appears at Buffy's house and only Dawn is home.

The Race

Buffy's eyes fluttered open at the feel of his lips against her forehead. She had cried herself to utter exhaustion and fallen asleep curled against him. Slowly, she raised her head, afraid to look, afraid that she was back in the dream where she was so alone and so afraid and he came to her in her bed and made the world stop...hurting.

"Spike?" she whispered, finally bringing herself to look at his face. To get lost again in his eyes.

"Hello, Pet," he answered, brushing the tear-matted hair from her cheeks.

"Are you ... alive? Well, as alive as you were?"

"Seems that way, Love," he answered, his palm still pressed to her cheek.

"Do you remember anything?"

"Not very much. Poofter needs to learn proper swordsmanship," Spike

groaned, a hand over the bandage. He pushed himself up and Buffy sat next to him, trying to steady him with a hand on his back. "Still not feeling right."

"The cure... it's only temporary. We need to get you home. Willow and Tara went to find a doctor."

"The cure?" Spike asked, looking closely at her face.

"Tara made a potion for the cut. And one you had to drink,"' Buffy said, looking down at her hands.

"What was it, Pet?" Spike asked, torn between gratefulness and fear.

"Mostly blood and some herbs. Tara charged it, but she promised it was only good magic."

"I trust that it was from Glenda," Spike sputtered. "What blood?"

"Pig's blood."

Spike opened and closed his hands, feeling the fire in his veins. He looked over at Buffy, following her eyes to her hands and one neatly bandaged wrist. "Pig's blood?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

Buffy looked at him like a child caught peeking at her Christmas presents. "With a chaser," she muttered.

"Buffy, you didn't..." he asked, picking up her hand, turning her bandaged wrist in his palm.

"I had to," she said quietly. "Spike, you were almost dead. I know what Slayer blood can do."

"You shouldn't have done that, Love," he whispered, his fingers tracing the bandage on her arm. He looked at her distraught face, not wanting to hurt her anymore. "But thank you."

"I couldn't let you die," she answered, her eyes tearing again. "He almost killed you." Spike watched her face cloud with sadness like a storm rolling across the horizon. Didn't she know that she broke his heart every time she cried? He pulled her against him and stroked her hair as exhaustion and fear and hurt came out in sobs.

"S'alright, Love," he whispered," We'll set things right. Always do."

"I made him leave," she sobbed. Spike pulled her up so that they were face to face, but his arm stayed wrapped tightly around her.

"Angel?"

"I couldn't... I couldn't look at him."

"I can't say that I'm not glad that you weren't thrilled to have him round, but who's with Emma?"

"For now, Dawn and Xander. Should be safe because it's daytime. Willow and Tara should be back there soon. We'll be back before sunset if I have to carry you myself," she said, trying to smile.

"Think I'll manage," Spike commented, falling back into her eyes. "You

think it's safe?" Something was bugging him. Something about the daylight.

"Emma? Should be for now, but we need to get back," Buffy answered, her

soft palms pressing against his cheeks.

"How long, Buffy?"

"How long what?"

"How long will Tara's cure.. last?"

"I don't know," Buffy answered quietly, her hands dropping, her eyes

following. It occurred to both that this moment was happening on borrowed time.

"Was I... dead?"

"No," she answered with confidence. "But close."

"Buffy?" Spike said, sliding his hand under her chin and lifting her eyes to his. "It'll be alright. I love you. Always."

"Every day?"

"Every day," he answered, kissing the tip of her nose.

*****

The blue sedan pulled up to the curb around the corner from the Slayer's

home. No need to be obvious, even if there'd be nothing to fear by the time he sat, once again, behind the wheel. The engine clicked off and the keys jingled as he slid them into the pocket of his perfectly pressed navy blue suit.

Gwydion stepped out onto the curb, whistling to himself. An old lullaby. One his wife had sung to their children before tucking them in each night. What was it again? The name escaped him, but the tune haunted him nightly.

It was a lifetime ago. Several lifetimes.

As he walked down the sidewalk, the tune played through his mind, the breath whistling over his lips and for a moment, he was taken back. His beautiful wife. His love. Sitting on a stool between two small beds singing in her near perfect soprano to two beautiful children. Both small and blonde and sharp as whips. How far away that was? How long a journey since the night he had locked the door of his shop and taken the short cut through the alley to the florist to pick up daisies for his love? She adored daisies. He had told her millions of times that he could afford roses, but she always said daisies were more.. beautiful. Whatever she wished, he thought.

Gwydion had met his maker that night in that alley. His master.

Everything changed in the blink of an eye. In the draining of blood. In one deadly kiss. The daisies would never be delivered. His two children, now near grown, would never see him again, or hear his stories, or smell the smoke of his pipe. When he rose again, none of it mattered. Only blood and hunger and chaos.

All these years later, it still didn't matter.

He didn't even think twice about killing this child, despite the connection.

Softly, Gwydion rapped on the door.

*****

"Giles?" Anya exclaimed, finally hearing the Watcher's voice on the other end of the phone line.

"Anya, what is it?" He sounded exhausted, annoyed, nervous.

"Where are you?" Anya asked. She had left messages all over Great Britain, but he was only just now calling her back.

"To be honest, I'm in New York."

"New York?" Anya asked, momentarily forgetting the urgency of her call.

"I'm on my way there. Lay over. I have news on the Prophesy."

"What news?" Anya asked.

"Anya, I should really speak to Buffy and Spike first."

"Stupid custom," Anya snarked.

"So, was insulting my manners the reason for your..," she could hear papers rustling in the background, "twenty-seven messages?"

"No, no," she said, exasperated. "Someone came to Buffy's house wanting to see Emma. He said he was a Watcher. Something about a mark."

"The star."

"You know about it?"

"Well, yes," he answered. She could picture him wiping his glasses. The thought made her smile. "But I'm not sure how anyone else would know."

"We checked her over and didn't find a mark."

"That's because it hasn't been made yet."

"What?"

"I'll explain when I get there, Anya," Giles said, sounding more rushed by the moment.

"Wait!" she yelped into the phone.

"I'm still here." Words laced with affectionate annoyance.

"The man who came said he was working with you on the Prophesy."

Giles was completely silent. "Anya, I've been in seclusion."

"I know *that*. Hello. Twenty-seven messages."

"Seclusion implies *alone*, "Giles responded. "What was this man's name?"

Anya thought hard. "Welsh. Or English. One of those Anglo-Saxon names. What was it?" She tapped her fingers against the phone. "Gwydion!" she exclaimed in delight as the name popped into her head.

"Gwydion?"

"Yes."

"Anya, listen to me closely. Gwydion is *not* a Watcher. He never was."

"But he knows..."

"He may know quite a bit, but not from me."

"Who?"

"There is no time, Anya. I will be there tonight. Whatever you do, do

*not* let Gwydion near Emma. Nor Spike, for that matter."

"Spike?"

"Just please trust me, Anya." Giles was worried, exasperated, angry at the state of worldwide aviation.

"Giles, Spike is.."

"Spike is what?"

"He might be...dead."

"What?" the Watcher asked in shock, his fear increasing by the second.

"Buffy's gone to find him. He was stabbed last night."

"Stabbed?"

"It was an accident. Angel stabbed him in a fight. He's mortal."

"Get to the house, Anya. Get Buffy there. It's happening. Gwydion *must* not get near Emma. Do you understand?"

"Yes."

"I've got to go." The phone clicked and Anya heard only silence.

*****

Xander raced along the streets as fast as his four cylinder could go.

Leaving Dawn alone was bad enough, but hearing her sounding all the world like Buffy, channeling her sister, convinced him that Dawn might be on to something.

He wondered, as he drove, how he ended up here. The rest of them made

sense. Buffy was the Slayer, the Chosen One. Spike, as much as he hated to admit it, was destined for her. The prophesied Vampire whose love for the Slayer would change the world. Sickening thought. Tara was a witch. A very nice witch, but a fairly powerful one in her own right. Willow, his little Willow, had destroyed the town with her power and were it not for intervention, she would have destroyed the world. Even Dawn was a mystical ball of light, who, built from the Slayer's own flesh, could open the doors to the dimensions.

Even Anya. Even though she seemed to be human and he did truly, madly,

deeply love her, she had a thousand years of knowledge and experience and power on him.

What was he doing as part of this? A hanger-on to a cosmic play. The lone audience to the show that was destined to change the world.

At least he was still a part of it.

Xander skidded to a halt in front of the Magic Box, running into the shop. Anya was behind the counter, grabbing her bag and jacket and looking like she was late for a very important date.

"Ahn, what's wrong?" he asked, jogging to the counter.

"I just spoke to Giles..."

"What did he say?"

"Not to let Gwydion near Emma. That he's not a Watcher. We need to get

back to Buffy's." Anya was silent, looking at Xander. "Who's with Emma?"

"Dawn," Xander said. The panic overtook him as he bolted from the counter. "Ahn, call Dawn. Tell her not to open the door and to lock herself in with Emma. I'm going to get Buffy and hopefully Spike." Never thought I'd say that, he thought.

"But what if..."

"Anya, call her. Then go wait in the car." Anya nodded and Xander bolted down the basement steps.

*****

Dawn walked slowly down the stairs towards the door. The fairies were all over the room now and she was terrified, despite being fairly sure that they were there to help. A familiar face, any familiar face, might make it better. The knock came again as she made it to the landing.

As Dawn reached for the door, the phone began to ring. She hesitated,

wondering which was more important. The soft rap came again. The shrill ring of the phone. She decided that help in the flesh was worth more than the promise that it was coming. Softly, she reached for the knob.

"Dawn?" that familiar, soothing voice. Looking at his face again brought back that same, nagging feeling. Like looking at an echo of someone she knew.

"B...Buffy's not here," Dawn said, looking through the crack in the door.

"May I come in and wait? It's rather urgent," Gwydion said, that charming smile playing across his ruggedly handsome features.

Dawn thought for a moment, remembering how angry Buffy had been the first time. "It's really a bad time. Maybe you could come back?" she said, shyly.

Gwydion frowned. "I'm afraid, my dear, that this is a very *good* time," he said with a grunt, pushing the door open. Dawn reeled back into the stairway, falling with a thud onto the bottom step. "And since you have already once invited me in..."

"You... you're a... you're the vamp..." Dawn stuttered.

"I would've thought you'd have come to terms with the idea of Vampires that walk in the daylight, " Gwydion taunted in his smooth London accent.

"Why...?"

"Oh, do relax, little girl. I've come for the child. Mind yourself and

stay out of my way and I won't kill you," he said, shutting the door behind him and grabbing Dawn by the arm, hoisting her to her feet.

"Leave.Emma.Alone," Dawn commanded, her fear overcome by the love of her

niece.

Gwydion laughed. "Or what?" he snarked. Dawn kicked the Vampire in the

shins and ran into the living room, grabbing the vase from the end table and hurling it at him, catching him square on the shoulder. Gwydion looked shocked for a moment, then chuckled as Dawn raced for the weapons chest, tossing the wooden top open in a panicked rage.

"Ah, ah, ah," Gwydion scolded, appearing behind the girl with lightening

quickness. "I told you that, if you were good, I would not kill you. Why are you testing me?" He grabbed her by the back of her neck and pulled her from the chest, hurling her against the wall. Dawn's head cracked as she hit and her world began to spin. "Looks like you are a bit more feisty than I had given you credit for. Good for you. Maybe I can even find use for you, but for now," he continued, picking up her crumpled, dazed form and propping her in a chair, "I'll just have to tie you up and think about whether or not you are more useful to me as a Vampire or just.. dead."

Gwydion grabbed a rope from the chest and began to bind the girl to the

chair. The phone shrilly rang again. Dawn struggled to move and felt a

thud. The world faded to black.

To be contd.

Title: Fear (The Peacemaker Prophesy, pt 17)

Author: Nimue

Rating: PG-13

Feedback: Yes, please

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

Summary: Buffy waits to see if the cure will work. Gwydion surprises Dawn while she is home alone. Xander and Anya try to help Buffy.

Fear

Buffy rummaged through an old dresser, locating one of what must have been a hundred plain black T-shirts that Spike owned. Diversification of wardrobe was something they needed to chat about once Emma was out of danger and the wound in Spike's gut was healed. Were it up to her, he could walk around shirtless for all eternity, but as PTA meetings might eventually be in their future, discussing the ins and outs of colour was looking more and more important.

Spike sat on the edge of the bed, feet dangling over the sides looking like a child recovering from having the wind knocked out of him. Buffy walked to the bed and he looked up at her with those endless blue eyes. She saw something she rarely noticed in her lover. Fear. Her hand lifted to his face, feeling his soft skin, running her thumb along his cheekbone. For years now, it had been her that was afraid and time and time again, he was setting it right. Might be time to return the favour.

"Can you lift your arms?" Buffy asked, situating the shirt as she would one of Emma's. He obliged, wincing as his hands spread over his head and she pulled the shirt on, mussing his hair as she did. It was a heartbreaking sight. He looked so much like a boy in that moment. Like the last one hundred and twenty odd years were all a lie and he was really just someone's child who had been hurt in a fight. "It's going to be alright, Spike. I won't let you die."

Spike stared at her with startled blue eyes and reached for her, pulling her against him, his head against her chest. He clung to her as she stroked his hair, the back of his neck, feeling her resolve strengthen. There was no way she was going to lose this. No way Emma was going to grow up not knowing.... Just not knowing. Buffy pulled away and forced him to look at her.

"Spike, listen, OK?" He stared at her helplessly. "I know that you're

afraid. I'm afraid. But we have a little girl at home and we need to go and make sure she's OK. If you aren't up to it yet, I'll...."

"No," he interrupted. "Don't care if I die. Not getting Emma." Spike

pushed himself to his feet, Buffy steadying him.

"You aren't going to die," Buffy said, resolutely.

"Buffy," he sighed," we have to face facts, Love..."

"No," she answered. "There are no facts on the Hellmouth. How many times have I been dead now?" She smiled softly at him and he returned it, getting lost in her as he always did. He leaned down, his lips brushing hers. "Besides," she whispered, his mouth still touching her lips, "after we save her this time, I'm sure we'll still have lots of saving-ness left. You have to be around if you want it all."

"You know I want you, Buffy," Spike purred, holding her hands. "You know I love you. Regardless."

"Well, don't make me have to go to another dimension and find you then." He smiled at her in reply, kissing her once again. Just to feel her against him. Just to remember it. Just in case.

A rap at the door turned both of their heads, startling them to attention. "Who's there?" Spike called, the fear back in his voice.

"It's me. Xander."

"Come in," Buffy chimed, turning towards the back door of the crypt. Spike took a few steps, getting his bearings.

"Buff," Xander panted. "Spike?" Spike nodded at the whelp. "You're

alive?"

"He needs help. Have you heard from Willow and Tara?" Buffy interrupted.

"No, but we need to get back. Pronto."

"What's wrong?" Spike asked, beginning to feel the fire of Buffy's blood

coursing through his veins.

"Anya talked to Giles and Gwydion is not a watcher..."

"What?" Spike asked, flabbergasted. "Gwydion? A Watcher?"

Xander and Buffy looked at Spike. "He came to the house and spoke to Dawn. Said he was a Watcher," Buffy stuttered, staring at Spike's worried expression.

"He's the sodding master Vampire," Spike said, starting toward the door. He stumbled and Xander caught him. Spike thought about shrugging him off, but was grateful at that moment, that he was not face first on the floor. "We need to go," Spike continued, trying to cover his weakness. Buffy came up next to Spike, putting his arm over her shoulder and Xander steadied his other side. They began back through the tunnels, Spike gaining strength as he moved.

"Gwydion's the master?" Xander asked, looking at Spike's face. For a

second, he almost felt... worried about the vamp. That thought scared him more than anything.

"Yes."

"How did you find out?"

Spike thought a moment. "Drusilla," he answered, choosing honesty as the best route. Buffy's eyes shot up at Spike. "Pet, I had no chance to tell you. She came last night. Tried to turn me again."

Jealousy boiled in Buffy, but she held it down. This was not the time to fight. "What else did *Dru* say?" Buffy asked, the envy coming out in her voice. The tone did not go unnoticed by either Xander or Spike. Xander shot the blond Vampire a look that said 'If you live though this, she might just kill you.'

"Well, after I tossed her across the room with my last remaining strength," Spike said in his own defense, "she told me about Gwydion and that he would come for Emma on the day of the fairy's ball. Haven't quite sussed that part out yet."

"Uh, the fairy's ball?" Xander asked. " I orginally came to get you because the house is covered in fairies. Thousands of them. All over the room, the side of the house. Dawn sent me to get you."

"Is the Niblet alone?" Spike inquired, suddenly finding the strength to

walk alone. Xander nodded back at Spike. "It's happening now. We need to go. " He picked up the pace, his blood, her blood, now pumping steadily in his veins.

"Oh God." Buffy whispered. "I should run ahead."

"Car's out front," Xander answered. "I'll get you there."

"Now!" Spike snarled, a few steps in front.

*****

Gwydion finished binding the girl in a maze of ropes designed to hurt no

matter which way the teen wiggled. She sat, head slumped forward in the

chair. He clapped his hands, satisfied, and began to prowl the lower level, looking for other potential problems. Slowly, he descended into the basement. Washer. Dryer. Cleaning supplies. Oh, and an un-slept in cot. Looks as if the guard was right. No more Angel to be concerned with.

"Let the games begin," Gwydion said to the air, smiling smugly and emerging into the kitchen.

*****

"Can't this sodding thing move any faster?" Spike snapped from the back

seat. Buffy laid a hand on his leg as he clutched white-knuckled at the

headrest of Anya's seat. "Pull over and let me drive."

"Ow, the hair!" Anya huffed, pulling forward.

"Sorry."

"Spike," Buffy muttered, pushing him gently back against the seat. "Save a little for when we get there, OK?" She found herself honestly concerned that there wasn't just a time limit to the potion but maybe a power limit. Kind of like if locked in a vault, you conserve more air by whispering rather than screaming. Not that she knew if it were true or not. Worried her all the same. Spike reluctantly complied, instead toying nervously with Buffy's fingers.

"What's the plan once we get there?" Xander asked.

"Get the weapons. Wait for Gwydion," Buffy answered.

"Isn't it daylight?" Anya asked. "Isn't he a vampire?"

"Did *Drusilla* tell you anything to explain *that*?" Buffy said, the envy rising again. Spike looked at her, rather touched by the overt display of jealousy.

"No," Spike answered, calmly. "But there are several charms in existence that would allow this."

"Thanks, Giles," Xander snarked.

"What is it with you bloody people? Know something and suddenly you're a sodding Wanker?" Spike erupted. Buffy could not help but giggle.

"Like the Gem of Amara?" Buffy asked, tossing that one out there. Maybe keeping him annoyed was the best way to keep him alive.

"No," he continued sarcastically. "The Gem of Amara confers invincibility."

"You didn't seem too invincible to me," Buffy remarked. Spike shot a

warning glance at her, smirking his patented, trademark Spike!Smirk. None other like it.

"Just warming up," he quipped, his accent becoming more pronounced as he

became more offended. "There are several charms and talismans that confer the ability to walk during the day, but most all but negate a Vampire's powers. Bloody waste of time, if you ask me," Spike finished.

"So we may be up against an otherwise powerless vamp?" Xander asked,

hopefully.

"What's the point?" Anya asked.

Buffy and Spike looked at each other, recognition crossing their faces.

"Element of surprise. Separate the heard. Attack the weakest one," Spike muttered, under his breath.

"Dawn," Buffy gasped. "Can this thing going any faster?"

*****

Gwydion started up the stairs, making no noise and he slowly crept along the carpet. He ducked his head in each room of the second level, assessing the situation. Making sure every room was cleared. As he closed the door to Buffy's room, he heard it. A tiny, mewling cry, as if from a lost kitten. Gwydion smiled.

The prize.

Slowly, he padded down the hall, following the sound to the closed door of the child's room. As he reached for the knob with one elegant, ringed hand, a desperate cry rang out. The sound of fear and need and basic want. It was music. Torturous, horrible, symphonic. Her screams made him want to savour this all the more.

Gwydion slid open the door with a gentle click. Only some furniture and a crib with a small crying baby. He felt something strange and noticed the odd wallpaper. Thousands of butterflies suspended against dark and light blue walls. The child wailed, her legs kicking, her arms punching wildly at the air. Beautiful music. Slowly, he approached the crib, staring down at the girl with wide and wondering eyes.

"So, pretty," he said, sliding his hand under her neck. He could feel the burn and hiss as his ring touched her soft skin. The child wailed again. Louder. More desperate. " I should have thought nothing less of Spike. Especially not with his beautiful mate." He slid his hand from under the girl and stroked her downy blonde head. "Those eyes. I would know them anywhere. You are mostly definitely his girl," he whispered, almost comforting the child. The game was more fun if they trusted before the kill. The baby looked up at him with fearful and teary eyes. For one split second, he could hear her voice in his head.

'Stop this. You do not want this.'

A beautiful, rich, melodic voice. It angered the Vampire more. Gwydion

lifted his other hand, sliding it into the crib, one positioned on either side of the child's head. Snap her tiny neck, he thought. End this.

As he moved to touch her again, the walls came to life. Thousands of tiny wings fluttered and time stood still.

*****

The car screeched to a halt in front of Buffy and Spike's home. Spike's door was open and he had hopped to the curb before the car had completely stopped. A newfound burst of strength, driven by his lover's blood and sheer adrenaline coursed through Spike's veins, igniting his muscles. He ran up the walk, Buffy at his heels, Xander and Anya further behind.

The door was slightly ajar. "Here," Spike muttered, slamming it open.

"He's here."

Spike's immediate lunge at the stairs was stopped dead by what he saw from the corner of his eye. Buffy almost ran into the back of him, her head whipping, following his gaze.

Dawn was strapped to a chair, chest heaving, hands tethered to her feet and the chair by an elaborate and torturous system of ropes. Her eyes

fluttered, neither awake nor asleep. Spike stood in horror, looking at his Niblet. She was as much his as Emma. Not of his flesh but of his heart. He shook his head as if to clear it, and grabbed Buffy's shoulder. Buffy was frozen, staring at her sister in wide-eyed horror.

"Buffy?" Spike said. Buffy did not move. Xander and Anya appeared in the entryway and backstepped at the sight.

"Jesus, Dawn," Xander gasped, not able to move.

"Buffy?" Spike said again, this time with more force. He grabbed her other shoulder, shaking her. Buffy snapped and looked up at him. "Take care of the Niblet. I'll handle Gwydion."

"But you..." she stuttered.

"I'll be fine. Tend to your sis." Spike bolted up the stairs in twos.

Buffy watched him disappear as Xander came up next to her.

"Xander, please help..." she muttered, already disappearing up the stairs.

"We'll take care of her," Xander called after her.

*****

Spike felt it just before he reached Emma's door. Like the consistency of the air had changed. It became as if he was wading chest deep in the sea. Still, he pushed forwards, trudging toward the door at a fraction of the pace of his heart, his pumping lungs. He heard Buffy scrambling up the stairs behind him in a flurry of movement. He turned just as her body slowed and he watched the look on her face change from resolution to fear. Spike almost went back to grab Buffy as she froze, arms reaching for the door, but he knew he had to get to Emma.

The door swung slowly open.

A man in a navy suit was bending over the baby, frozen. Spike could see his little girl moving slowly around the edge of Gwydion's arm. Hear her helpless whimpers and thousands of fluttering wings. Spike lunged toward the figure, but it seemed more of just a lurching step. The fury, the rage, filled him as he got closer, seeing Gwydion's hands on either side of Emma's pretty head. "Never," he muttered, but it was barely a hushed whisper.

Spike reached for the sandy haired man, yanking him back with what little force he could muster. Pulling him toward the door. Feeling his own face change with the fear and fury and desire to destroy that he had quelled since Africa. He felt the killer rise as he hoisted the man through the door, into the hall. Spike never looked at his face. No. He didn't want to see the monster's face until he could end it.

The fairies' grip loosened. Buffy sprang to life and darted past Spike

toward Emma's room as the baby began to wail again in terror and need.

Spike spun, hurling Gwydion at the stairwell, his perfectly polished shoes glinting in the sunlight as the older vamp upended and toppled down the stairs. The sandy haired man shook his head, the effects of the fall and the fairies clouding his mind. All he could see was the door in front of him, but he could feel Spike behind. Hear the heavy sound of boots against the wood of the steps. Gwydion thought that his only chance was to run.

But what honour was there in running?

Besides, he had waited for over a century for the look on Spike's face.

That one moment that would make it all worth the ride.

Gwydion felt the boot to his kidney, then hands grab him under his arms,

propelling him at the door with supernatural strength. The sandy haired man chuckled as his face hit the door with a crack. Xander loosened the last knot on Dawn. Anya held Dawn's raw hands in silence, Buffy scooped Emma into her arms and ran back to the top of the stairs, all watching the blond Vampire unleashing his rage mixed forever with his Slayer's blood, on the man who would kill their daughter.

"Bloody well do it," Gwydion spoke, his nose pressed to the wood of the

door. Buffy stopped, turning, feeling something.. Spike ceased his

pummeling, listening. "On with it, Wills."

Spike grabbed Gwydion's shoulders and spun him toward the stairs until they stood face to face. Eye to eye. A cracked, raw grin broke on the sandy haired man's face, blood trickling from a cut in his eye. Spike's eyes flew open and he stepped back, shaking his head, falling onto the bottom step.

"Spike?" Buffy called, stepping forward. Spike looked up at the man in

horror.

"F...father?"

To be contd.

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