Title: Future Dimension NA and the 'glowing" theory)

Author: Nimue

Rating: PG

Pairing: S/B. Includes most characters

Spoilers: S6. Anything up through Normal Again is fair game.

Summary: This is going under the assumption that in Normal Again, Buffy

wasjumping between dimensions. Two coexisting realities. Also, theory

that every decision we make creates a different path for us, and maybe a shadow of ourselves follows that path.

Disclaimer: I do not own any of these characters. They belong to Joss

Whedon, Mutant Enemy, UPN etc. Just playing with them.

Feedback: Yes, please

Another life.

Buffy battled the waxy demon, but he was strong. Not to mention he had sort of a marzipan smell to him. Whatever he was, he was driving her crazy with all of his lurching and pawing. Why couldn't he be like a vamp: quick, strong, light on the feet, and easy to kill. She managed to corner him against a car in the alley when she heard what sounded like a tiny sword unsheathe and felt a sharp pain.

*****

"AHHHH!". Buffy was screaming a brutal, earth shattering scream. Pain was ripping through her. She felt as if she had been stabbed in the stomach. Willow was sitting on the bed behind her, chanting softly, her hands on Buffy's shoulders. Tara sat at the foot of the bed, rubbing Buffy's calf, soothingly trying to calm her.

"Tara, " Buffy moaned. " What happened? Where I am? What is going on? Is everything OK?"

"Everything is fine, Buffy," Tara answered quietly, still rubbing her calf.

" I feel like ... I have never felt pain like this before, " Buffy screamed as pain shook her again, tearing her insides out.

"You've never had a baby before, Buffy."

"WHAT??" Buffy answered, her eyes widening with shock.

*****

Buffy was stumbling back towards home, dizzy and confused. She knew that the graveyard was the quickest way, but she wasn't sure that she could grapple anything that she happened to run into in that place. Still, she thought, steeling her resolve, 'I need to get home'. Buffy felt the fever rising and the sweat on her skin. Slowly, she turned onto the path into the cemetery.

It wasn't long before she ran into trouble. It never was. As she passed the mausoleums, three younger vamps popped out from behind the stone walls. Did they actually think that surprised her, that this game of peek-a-boo with the slayer was scary? Slowly she straightened, focusing her mind on the vamps and began the dance.

Two of them she dusted easily, but the third. Either the third was much stronger or she was much weaker for the other two. Blow after blow and the stupid vamp kept coming at her. The veil between the worlds was thinning. She doubled over, falling back against the cold stone wall. Then he was there, fighting the vamp. Buffy clutched her stomach, falling to the ground, as Spike finished off her attacker, rushing back towards her.

*****

"She alright in there? " Spike called into the bedroom, pounding on the door with his fist, a mixture of concern and annoyance in his voice. He needed to be with her.

His question was answered with a primal scream from Buffy. The sound of her pain was making him lose his mind. "That's it, I'm coming in..." he said,reaching for the knob. Xander grabbed his hand and Dawn latched onto his arm to stop him.

"Spike, no" Xander said.

" And why not? I need to do something."

" I think you have done quite enough already," Xander retorted. Somewhere, Xander was still jealous that now it was real. Now it was Spike and Buffy that were connected always. Not him. Spike.

"And tell me again why in bloody hell I should listen to you?" Spike hissed, almost changing to his game face. He would do anything to get in there, anything to help her.

Buffy began screaming again. Spike could hear Willow chanting louder,

faster. He could not bare this. His hand began to turn the knob.

A tug on his sleeve brought him back. He turned to look at Dawn's worn and frightened little face. " You know Willow said that she has to protect her. That this... baby.. shouldn't... be... at all. And to bring it into the world might kill her. Willow said that she can make it so both of them live, but we cannot break the circle. If we do, one of them, or both, die."

Spike softened, leaning back against the door. Hearing Buffy screaming, Willow chanting, Tara cooing softly. He wanted to be with her. This was going to drive him mad.

"Why don't you take me downstairs and help me... rustle up some food." Dawn said, tears in her eyes. Her sister's screaming was killing her too. Spike knew Dawn wasn't hungry, but also knew one more minute of hearing Buffy in so much pain and not being able to help her, might do them both in.

"Right then, Nib, " he said, taking her hand. "Off we go."

*****

"Buffy," Spike said, crouching down on the ground next to her. "You

alright?'.

"Spike?" she said, her eyes watering, staring at him, terrified and

overjoyed to see him. "Spike, something is very wrong".

" I can see that," he said, brushing sweaty hairs from her forehead. "

You're burning up, girl, " he said as his fingers touched her hot forehead.

"What's going on?" It was that annoyance of a wanna be man. Xanders voice was like fingernails on a chalkboard to Spike. He turned only to see Xander and Willow standing behind him. "What did you do to her this time?"

"Buffy?" Willow said, rushing to her side. Spike stood to face Xander.

"Bugger off, " Spike hissed.

"Or what? Xander said, " You'll make spooky faces at me?"

"Guys," Willow's timid voice called up. Xander and Spike both turned.

Spike dropped back to Buffy's side. " We need to get her home. Something is really wrong".

Spike's hand was holding Buffy's without even knowing it. His crystal eyes were buried deep in hers and he felt her fear, her pain, her confusion. He leaned to pick her up. " Let's get you back to the crypt".

"We got it, " Xander interrupted, pushing Spike aside. He and Willow pulled Buffy to her feet and began to move towards the Summers house. "She's our friend, we'll take care of her".

"Put ice on the back of her neck," Spike said as they walked away, "She

likes it".

*****

Buffy clutched the bedsheets with white knuckles, screaming. The pain was almost constant now, tearing at her. She wanted him with her. But Willow said that it would put them all in danger. The magic was dancing around them. A white circle of little sparkling lights dancing around the bed. Supposed to keep them safe. Tara was speaking quietly to Buffy, but all she could feel was pain.

Suddenly, Buffy felt it all starting. Her eyes widened in fear. "Where's Spike?" she panted to Tara. She did not even know how she knew he was the father. This was a different place. What else had she done differently? But she knew. "Shouldn't he be here?" she said as a huge surge came over her and she felt the baby moving.

"I know, Buffy." Tara whispered, trying not to alarm her. She could see the baby now. Willow chanted loudly, lost in her protection spell. "But this baby, Buffy. This baby is a miracle. This.... Buffy, we have to protect her. We don't know.. no one has ever delivered a child like this. We have no idea what will happen. We are just trying to protect..."

Tara's words were interrupted by a scream and Buffy's entire body shuddering and sliding toward her. And then a scream of a different sort. Buffy fell back to the bed, and Willow collapsed behind her.

*****

"Buffy?" Willow said, sitting next to her on the bed. "You OK in there?" she said cheerfully.

Buffy looked around the room, confused. It was daytime. No sparkly lights swirling around her bed. No Tara. Just Willow looking fresh and motherly.

"Yeah, " Buffy said, sitting up against her pillows.

" You've been pretty sick, " Willow said, handing her some tea. "Still are. Got everyone in a little uproar. Dawn's all cry-y and Spike and Xander and fighting like expectant fathers."

Buffy went completely rigid, terror gripping her. "Expectant fathers?"

What world was this??

" You know, all pacing like and argumentative. Nothing to worry about. You have just been really sick. Most of the time, you are asleep. You just lay there and moan, curled on your side. I thought Spike was going to lose his mind listening to you. I think he was crying..."

" Will, I need to tell you something, " Buffy began, knowing that what she was about to say was going to take Willow completely off guard. And she began to recount the story of the other world, the other life. Every detail. Willow listened intently, the look on her face half horror, half sweetness. And something clicked in Willow. Something told her there was more to this than she knew.

Spike walked into the room, standing next to her chest of drawers, dodging sunbeams. Willow got up and left quietly. " See you are awake then, Slayer." he said, a look of relief on his face.

Buffy's fear welled into anger. " You shouldn't be here. You are not part of my life."

First it was hurt, then anger that crossed his face. She heard a tumble of words from him. About how she had a nasty case of martyrdom. About how she needed to make up her mind. How she needed to tell the rest of them about her or he would...

*****

"Spike?". He looked up from the magazine he had been toying with. Dawn was napping with her head on his lap. His arm was draped over her as he had been comforting her when she finally fell asleep.

Tara was standing at the foot of the stairs. He rose, walking towards her as Dawn slept quietly on the couch. "Is she?' he whispered, noticed that her screaming had stopped. He was terrified she had not made it. That neither of them had made it.

Tara reached out to him, touched his hand. He could feel the tears coming. They were dead. He knew they were. She smiled softly at him, starting up the steps. "It's a girl, " she said pulling him up towards the room.

Xander was still sitting outside, pressed against the wall. Tara had not thought it was right to let anyone else in before Spike. Xander was glaring at the two of them, but let Spike pass without incident.

"Tara, wait." Spike said just before they entered. She turned back toward him. " Does she even want... to see me?"

Tara smiled reassuringly, "She has been asking for you."

Spike stepped into the moonlit room. She was lying there, so tiny and weak. Willow was sitting on a chair next to the bed, stroking the top of the child's head as Buffy held her in her arms. It was surreal to Spike. This was never supposed to happen. And he should not be so moved by it. But for whatever reason, he thought he would break down into sobs. The part of him that was human had made this. And all of him would love and protect them.

Willow got up from the chair, and took Tara's hand. As they left, Spike turned to them. "Thank you, " he said, at an unusual loss for words. Both women smiled softly and left the room.

He sat next to her on the bed. She did not talk, but she looked at him

softly. No more anger, no more confusion. She had found her reason to

live. He rested his hand on her arm, stroking it gently, staring down at her child. Their child. The tiny blue eyed girl in her arms that fought everything to be here. Just like her parents. Fighters.

Buffy's eyes were exhausted and teary. He touched her face with his hand and she closed her eyes, drinking him in. She handed the baby to him and watched him take her so gently, so carefully. Spike stared at that child with the same love with which he looked at Buffy. He was no longer a monster. He had not been for a very long time.

"You did well, Pet", he said, staring at the perfect child. He could hardly fight back his own emotion. Buffy watched him closely. "What are you going to call her?"

She looked at him for a moment. "What was your mother's name, William?"

He looked at her, his head cocked, amazed at what she was thinking. His face was so soft and sweet that she thought her heart might burst. "Emma, " he said swallowing hard.

"Emma Joyce, " Buffy said, touching his arm. He broke down, a century of emotion escaping. He laid down next to her, the baby resting between them, and buried his face in her hair.

*******

"Buffy? Buffy?". She could hear him in her head. She opened her heavy eyes and stared up Spike was sitting next to her on the bed, his face wracked with concern.

"Spike?" she said, snapping too. She felt the fog lifting completely. But part of her wanted to go back to sleep. Back to the other place. He saw her drifting out again.

"Stay with me, love, " he said shaking her. "Willow gave you some medicine and you should be right as rain soon."

"Spike.. I had the weirdest dream..."

"That's just it, Pet. Willow has it all sussed out. You were not dreaming. The venom in that demon made you jump realities. Go from here to another plane. Blurred the lines in the whole cosmic continuum and all that buggery."

"Actually, " said Willow's voice from the doorway. "That is not quite right, " she said with a strained look on her face. Spike turned to face Willow. Buffy pushed herself upright in the bed. Willow looked at them both, stumbling over what to say.

"What now, Red?" Spike said, frustrated.

"Well, I do not think that the venom made you jump to a different *place* in the dimensions, " Willow continued, " I think it jumped you to a different *time*".

"Speak English, Willow. Having a hard day, " Buffy retorted, starting to get her fire back.

Willow's nose crinkled. She wasn't sure how to say this. If she had not done the tests herself, she would not have believed it. " I think, Buffy, it jumped you to the future."

Buffy's face was complete shock. Her eyes as wide as saucers. Her heart beating hard in her chest. "That is not right, Willow. That cannot be right. How did you figure that all out?"

Willow and Buffy exchanged looks. Confused, shocked, terrified looks.

Spike watched the two girls knowing that there was something unsaid.

Knowing there was something he was missing.

"Buffy," Willow started, staring at Spike.

" Will, say what you have to say, " Buffy said without thinking. She did not realize what she had said until it was too late.

"Buffy, you're pregnant.".

Spike stared at Buffy a moment in utter shock. Willow backed slowly out of the room.

Title: Anything is possible

Author: Nimue

Rating: PG

Disclaimer: the usual, all characters belong to JW, ME, etc..

Feedback: Yes, please

Author Note: I had written the big time fluff piece Twist on NA/glowing

theory and got a LOT of feedback (thanks ya'll). Several people asked me

to go on with the storyline. This picks up from Willow telling Buffy, in

front of Spike, that she had not gone to an alternate dimension but had

jumped to the future. And that Buffy really was pregnant. So, here

goes.



Anything is Possible in the Hellmouth.

Buffy sat, still tucked in her bed, her head reeling, the fog still

lifting from all of the dimension jumping or time travel or dreaming or

*whatever* it was that she had done. It was preventing the truth of the

matter from creeping in.

Spike sat next to her, staring at her, somewhere between shock, fear,

amazement and happiness. He swallowed hard, shaking his head as if some

nasty little thought had crept in and he was trying to violently knock it

out.

"She's not right, you know, " Buffy said defiantly, crossing her arms over

her chest and pulling the covers up under her arms.

"Couldn't be, " he commented. Then that nasty little thought bubbled back

to the surface. The one thing he did not think he could face.

"Unless...., " he continued.

"Unless what, Spike?" Buffy questioned, frustration in her voice.

"Buffy," he began, tearing his gaze away from her, his face softening,

sadness creeping into his voice. She could not help but feel for him for

just a moment. Until the words came off of his lips, " Have

you....been... with someone...else...human...I mean... recently..., " he

stuttered. Spike was sorry he ever asked before the words stumbled out of

his mouth, but he knew he had to ask her. His body tensed, steeling

himself for the answer or the onslaught of flying fists that was to come.

Immediately, his words stung her. *He* was the monster, the evil doer,

and he thought that little of her? Then anger washed over her. She

jumped out of bed, wearing only a tank top and underwear, storming off

toward her dresser. Even angry at him, she could not stop thinking how

beautiful she could look. She began tearing through drawers, searching

for clothes.

"Buffy, " Spike pleaded, that familiar 'please don't hate me' tone in his

voice, "Buffy, you know I had to..."

"No, Spike," she barked cutting him off at the knees with just her words.

She pulled on sweatpants, hopping into them quickly, sharply. Everything

was so sharp. "You didn't." Buffy slammed the drawer shut so hard that

the dressed fell back into the wall.

"We both know," Spike was trying so hard to stay calm in the midst of her

tempest, "that this is .... not possible... for me to father a child, " he

continued, a hint of regret creeping into his tone, "I know... I... I...

didn't have that ....opportunity.. when I was human. And now, well, I am

dead Buffy."

"Thanks for the information. I had missed that, " Buffy said, again,

hearing only what she wanted. She was storming around the room, throwing

on a t-shirt, lacing up her shoes, a beautiful storm of rage and anger and

hurt.

"Damn it, Slayer, do you even see where I am coming from?"

She stopped, glaring at him, her eyes on fire. He could barely look at

them.

"Spike, " she began coldly, flatly, "Not that I owe you *any* explanation

in *any* world. But just so I am on the record with this, I am *not* a

whore..."

"I never... I did not mean, " he stuttered, floored by what she thought he

said. Devastated that he had made her feel that way.

"Shut up," she screamed, tears burning her eyes, " Don't you ever shut

up!?". He sat silently, trying to look at her, trying to swallow what he

had done. But he had to ask, didn't he? His head cocked and her pain was

all over his face. He wanted to say something, anything, take it back,

but he was silent.

"For whatever reason, I *couldn't* have been with anyone else since...

this whole freak show started, " she snapped, trying to hurt him with her

words.

"Buffy," he whispered so softly, coming toward her, wanting to make her

stop... hurting. She swung at him hard. It was her first and only line

of defense. She landed the punch solidly on his jaw, then another to his

nose and he could feel the blood trickle slowly to his lips. As she took

her third swing, he grabbed her wrist with lightening quickness. She

reeled back, her eyes fading quickly and he realized she was drifting out

again. The venom, the antidote, or.. something... was making her so

disoriented.

"Hold on, then, Pet, " he said catching her and pulling her back down to

the edge of the bed. She plopped down, dazed, upset, tears beginning to

spill from her eyes.

"Spike, " she began, " I do not know what you think of me..."

"I never meant that.."

"Please," she whispered almost desperately, "let me finish." He nodded

his head for her to go on. "I don't know what you think of me, but I

never... I couldn't, " she was choking on the words, "I came to you

because I wanted *you*. Not anyone else."

The words broke his heart and mended it all at once. It wasn't an

admission of undying love, but he knew that he, Spike, the evil monster,

would never hear that from her. Still, he would take it. It was what she

had to offer.

Spike put his arm around her, pulling him to her. She leaned her head on

his shoulder, the tears running down her face in silvery rivers. He hated

to see her like this. He had always hated it. Softly he rubbed her

shoulder, letting his cheek rest in her soft hair. Vampires did not have

a lot of experience in comforting the living, but he had always had a way

of making her feel.

"I believe you, Pet, " he whispered, his words blowing tendrils of her

hair across her forehead.

"Willow is just wrong, " Buffy pouted, knowing, somewhere, she wasn't.

"No worries, " Spike said softly, " We'll sort it all out."

*****

Willow came into Buffy's bedroom timidly after Spike had to almost drag

her from her room. She stood there in the doorway, trembling. Buffy

nodded at Spike and, like a willing servant to his mistress, he left.

"Willow, " Buffy began from her perch on the edge of the bed, "You are

wrong about this, all of it... It was just a dream, " she said, shaking

her head, tears still stinging her cheeks.

Willow softened, coming closer, kneeling down on the floor in front of

her. Softly, Willow took Buffy's hands into her own. She thought for a

moment, sizing up what to say. Trying to find the words.

"When you told me about your dreams, " Willow began, "some little

witchy-itch inside of me said that there was something going on. So,

while you were sleeping, and I was coming in anyway to give you the

antidote, I took your blood, " she confessed.

For some strange reason, Buffy felt compelled to say "With Spike here?"

"No, " Willow backpedaled, " just us." A compassionate smile spread

softly on her lips.

"Then what?" Buffy asked, not sure she wanted to know.

"I took it to the school and had it run and then ran it once myself. That

is kinda when I found out." Willow answered, her shoulders shrugging.

"Well, it was wrong."

"The blood was tested three times, Buffy. It isn't wrong."

"It *can't* be right," Buffy gushed, beginning to sob again.

"Because you don't want it to be, or because Spike is a vampire?" Willow

asked, bluntly.

Buffy stared at her in shock. "What do you mean, Will?"

"I'm just asking..." she began, compassion and fear mixing in her eyes, "

If you are upset because you do not want a baby, or if you are upset only

because it is Spike's."

"What the hell?" Buffy snapped, " What is this, Buffy is gum on the bottom

of the shoe night?" her anger ruling her.

"You need to ask yourself why you are so upset, " Willow said frankly.

"Because, " she said beginning to pace again, " I cannot be pregnant with

the child of the undead." As the absurdity of the words hit her, she felt

as if she had entered into some strangely dark sci fi movie.

"Well," Willow answered, "You are. So now what?"

"What do you mean, now what?"

"Buffy, we are on the hellmouth. The slayer is sleeping with a vampire,

and we all know anything is possible..."

"This isn't!" Buffy snapped.

"It is, " Willow retorted, " and you are."

"Have you told anyone?" Buffy asked tentatively.

"Tara, " Willow confessed, "She kind of figured it out on her own." Buffy

thought for a second and decided that she needed to pick her battles.

"No one can ever know."

"They are going to figure it out, Buffy. I hear people get... bigger...

when they have babies." Willow said, trying to be practical.

"They cannot *ever* know, " Buffy said, her teeth clenched, the tears

streaming again.

Suddenly, it occurred to Willow what Buffy was thinking, what she was

getting at, what she was actually considering doing.

"Buffy," Willow whispered, " You can't... you aren't.. thinking of, "

Willow choked. Buffy was shaking, sobbing, pacing. "You can't just ...

slay it."

"It *is* a vampire's child, " Buffy hissed in response.

"And yours, " Willow answered, anger creeping into her voice, "Not to

mention that it may be your only chance. His too. So, if you do that..."

"Then what?" Buffy said like an insolent 5 year old.

Willow could not put her anger into words. A vase exploded on the vanity

behind them. Willow's eyes were raging, not black, just so angry. So

upset. Her jaw was set and her hands clenched tightly in her lap. Buffy

felt fear of her best friend. Fear of herself.

"Will, " Buffy said, trying to be calm, sitting down next to Willow.

"No," Willow responded angrily. "Is there any reason, any at all, that you

have to give me other than the whole

Spike-is-a-vampire-and-so-he-is-evil-and-bad speech as to why you do not

want this baby?"

Buffy was silent.

"Because it seems to me, " Willow continued, "That Spike loves you. And

whatever is human in him did everything it could to be with you. Whatever

is left of William struggled all the way past demons scarier than we have

*ever* seen to give you this gift. And you can't see past the packaging."

"Will, I..." Buffy began, trying to explain, trying to think.

"For this to happen, " Willow kept going, no longer even giving Buffy the

time of day, "Someone had to change the rules. *I* call that a miracle.

So, answer me this, Buffy.... do you hate life so much that you would give

up on miracles?"

Buffy was silent for a long moment. Finally, she timidly whispered, "No."

"Then try this one... do you not want a child?" Willow asked, calming a

bit

.

Again, silence. Then a little voice said, "One day, I figured..."

"Well, no one gets everything just exactly when they want it," Willow

retorted. "Last question... do you hate Spike *that* much that you would

destroy his child?"

Hate him? Buffy thought. Spike was her enemy, sworn and mortal. But he

was also her confidant, her protector, he lover, her champion. "No," Buffy

whispered. "Will, I love him."

"I know, Buffy, " Willow said holding her. "I know."

Title: The Thanks I Get

Author: Nimue

Rating:PG

Feedback: Yes, please

Disclaimer: All characters belong to JW and company... just borrowing

Summary: Part 3 of the fluff bit Twist on Normal Again, where Buffy finds that she has not jumped dimensions but time and finds herself with a little surprise....



Buffy was washing her face, trying to regroup and make it downstairs for the first time in what felt like weeks. She could not remember when the demon stabbed her. Time had lost it's relevancy. Buffy had more on her mind then that.

She came out of the bathroom and Willow grabbed her around the arm,

smiling. "You ready to go face the music, mommy?"

Buffy twitched, trying to get used to the term. Trying to wrap her mind around everything. "Will, if it is ok with you, I would rather wait to tell them. Just a little while. Just until I can .... deal..."

"Sure, " Willow said, happily. "It can be our secret for now." They

walked towards the door and Buffy stopped cold.

"Giles..." she said trailing off. "How am I going to ..."

"I will call Giles," Willow said, knowing that Buffy would not be able to,"I'll call him and explain everything, OK?"

Buffy was silent. She was going to have to face this sometime. But she

was thankful for Willow's help now. "thank you, " she said as they

started down the stairs.

*****

"Ah, the queen of the wax monsters is alive!" Xander called from the couch as Buffy appeared at the bottom of the stairs.

Shyly, Buffy smiled, waving at the assembled group parked in front of the TV in her den. Xander, Dawn, Tara, even Anya. But no sign of Spike.

"Feeling better, Buffy?" Tara asked, knowingly. She always seemed to know what was going on in Buffy's head. In everyone's head.

"Yeah, " Buffy said, walking toward the couch.

"By the way, Buffy, what did you say to Captain Peroxide to get his

panties in a bunch?" Xander asked, shoving a handful of popcorn into his

mouth. "Not that I can say I was sad to see him go."

"Wha..What do you mean?" Willow said, moving to the arm of the couch.

"Spike came down when you and Willow were talking. Then he went back up

because he thought he heard something... I dunno, but he came down the

steps looking *really* ticked off and took off out the door, " Dawn said.

"He left?" Buffy asked, confused.

"He did kind of storm out of here, " Tara said. "What happened?"

Buffy looked at Willow. Willow's eyes got wide with fear. Buffy's smile was gone. "He heard us, " Buffy whispered. " He heard me... saying.. about ..."

"About the slaying..." Willow responded, her heart racing. "He thinks

you're going to..."

"Rude, much?" Dawn said as Willow and Buffy had their intense little

conversation.

"Stay here in case he comes back, " Buffy said, grabbing her jacket and

heading for the door.

" Will do, " Willow responded.

" She should not be going anywhere by herself, in her condition." Xander

said. Buffy and Willow turned to look at him. "Well, she has be sick for days."

" I need to go, " Buffy responded, the door swinging shut behind her.

*****

Buffy raced down the street, as fast as her weakened legs could carry her. She felt weak, tired, her mind going as fast as her head, but she could not stop. Her muscles burned as she ran, her breath coming in short bursts. She had to find him. Panic set in.

When she reached the graveyard, she slowed to a jog, trying to think of

what she was going to say. He had overheard her talking about killing a child, killing his child, something that even in his baddest of times, he would never have done. Angelus might have. Druscilla. But not Spike.

Her heart was racing as she came upon his crypt. Her hands touched the

door, feeling the wood, trying to steady herself. How the hell did she

get here? How did she get from being a spoiled child in LA to this place? And how did she explain away her behaviour? How could she explain this?

Finally, she brought herself to knock. There was no answer. No voice.

No open doors. Buffy knocked until her hand bled, but he never came. And she no longer had a right to burst through the gates into his world. She turned her back on the door and sunk down, sitting in front of it, sobbing, panicked, terrified. Not only was she going to have the baby of a dead man that she could not admit she loved, at least not to him, but she was going to do it alone. This time, she felt, 'I have gone too far.'.

"What are *you* doing here?" . His voice was cold. Flat. She looked up at him with wet and foggy eyes. He was so handsome. But the look on his face was pure hatred.

Spike, I ... we need to talk." she said pitifully. He was not falling

for it this time. He honestly did not care if she hurt. What she was

doing was far worse.

"We have nothing left to say, " he replied in the same dead tone.

"You heard us. Willow and me?" Buffy asked pitifully.

"Yes," he admitted bluntly. " I came up because I heard you crying again. Thought I should be there for you. Really glad I did that." Spike finished sharply.

"How much did you hear?"

" I left about the time you admitted to wanting to kill your baby, " he

responded. His coldness was something she had forgotten he was capable

of. She was afraid of him. She was afriad that she finally pushed the

one button that she could not take back. If it were not for the chip, she thought he might save her the trouble and kill them both.

"I didn't mean..."she stuttered, wrapping her arms around her knees.

"Don't lie to me, Slayer." he snapped, " You meant every word. You are so disgusted by me, so disgusted by the thought of sharing anything with me. So ... mortified by your own misguided, simplistic idea of good and evil, that you are willing not *only* to kill a child, but to kill your *own* child because of your hatred for me."

Buffy was silent. She knew she deserved this. She knew he had every

right to be angry. "I'm sorry, " Buffy said quietly. "I know that it

does not change anything, but I'm sorry."

Spike softened, just a tiny bit. Not enough to come closer. Not enough

to forgive her, but his shoulders dropped and he stopped figeting.

"I know, " she said, still crying softly, " That what I said was

unforgiveable. I agree. And once Willow made me think... Spike, I

couldn't do it. I can't. I won't." she whispered, burying her head in

her knees.

He sat down next to her, not touching her, but looking at her. This girl. This blasted girl who had turned him into her sodding love slave. And even after this, he could not hate her.

"Buffy, I just cannot understand why you would even think about it." he

said, trying not to bite her head off.

"Because, " she said, " because I'm scared. Because I know nothing about any of this. Because the only thing I seem to know anymore is how to fight, how to kill, how to destroy." She whispered softly. " It does not make it right."

"No, it doesn't" he said. "There is a big difference between killing a

demon who is reeking havoc on the world and killing your own child. If

you are that angry about all of this... if you are that disgusted with me for this... then kill me. " Spike said. "It is me you hate. Not your own baby."

He opened his shirt, bearing his chest. Buffy could not bring herself to look at his face. Spike was willing to give up his own existence if it would make hers more bareable. Tears streamed down her face. He had done this all along. Gave himself over to her without even asking what was in it for him.

Buffy reached toward him, pressing her palm to his chest, her fingers

splayed along his skin. Why did it matter so much to her that he was

different? What was so important that a little clock inside him ticked?

She felt like if she stayed there long enough, she could almost feel it. And the soul. What was a soul? It was something she did not understand. Did his actions, his love for her, his willingness to be sent to hell at her whim, not constitute everything a soul would? She knew creatures that walked in the harsh light of day who's souls were uglier than Spike could ever be.

Her hand moved to his faced and she forced herself to look at him. His

cheek was wet. How many tears had he shed for her? "Spike?" she

whispered.

"What, love?" he answered quietly.

"I am sorry, " Buffy said, swallowing her pride a moment. It was probably the most sincere thing she had ever said to him. He looked at her softly, drinking her in. "and I wanted to.... thank you." He was almost startled by her honesty.

"For what, Buffy?"

She chuckled nervously. " I dunno, " she joked, " for saving my life

about a hundred times."

"Well, I could say the same to you on that count," he retorted. "Hell, I suppose ever day you did not stake me, you saved me."

She looked down at her knees, picking flecks of dust from her sweatpants. Buffy was never good at saying things. She just acted and reacted. She was built for battle, but craved feeling. Finally, she mustered the right words.

"And I want to thank you, William, " she spoke softly, letting her words

drip from her lips like nectar, "for the gift that you gave me. I know

that because of...who...I am, I come with an expiration date. And I know that I will not have another chance at this. But you gave me one, and I am grateful. I want you to know, " she could feel the tears catch in her throat, but she had to get through this, " that when I die, forever this time, that I will feel... safe... leaving our child with a good man. Chip or no, you are a good man."

He stared at her, dumbfounded. Did she say that? Was this another one of his pathetic fantasies? Did she know? Or was she giving him her trust based on faith alone. Spike could not speak for a long time. He was too... tangled in her.

"I'd better get back," she said, rising to her feet, dusting off her

bottom as she stood. "They are a little... overprotective.. at the

moment."

"They know?" he asked, rising up with her.

"No, " she said, "Well, Will and Tara do, but not the rest..."

He found himself all caught in her pretty eyes again. Lost in her. Found in her.

"I'd better go, " she said again, touching his cheek. "Talk to you

tomorrow?"

"Do you want me to come round?" Spike asked sincerely. Everything was

different now.

"Don't you always?" she replied grinning and backing away. She turned on one heel and started back to the path out of the cemetary.

"Buffy?" he called after her.

"Yeah, " she replied, turning back.

Did she know about the chip? Could she know? Now was not the time.

"Thank you, " he said, staring at her tiny frame in the moonlight. She

smiled a true, beautiful smile, and turned to go.

Title: Into Africa

Author: Nimue

Rating: pg-13
Feedback: Please

Disclaimer: All characters belong to JW and co. just borrowing...

Summary: Spike, after finding out Buffy is pregnant and coming to speak to him, wonders if she knows the secret about his chip...



Spike wandered into his crypt, dazed, overwhelmed, tormented, happy. He

tossed his duster over the chair and walked over to the bed, sitting on the edge, trying to comprehend what was happening.

Buffy was pregnant. In all of his crusades, in all of his imagination,

nothing could match this. No part of him *ever* expected this to happen. He thought his chances at a familial existence, or any part of one, ended in the alley with Druscilla. The pleasure and the horror of that moment had shaped him for a century. Buffy had changed it all in less than a year.

Now he was a vampire, but he had no bloodlust. In one respect, he, Spike, had been neutered, first by the Initiative, then by his blinding love for Buffy. He chuckled at the thought that Spike had been neutered, but in that mental...castration...William had been allowed safe passage. And William fathered a child. "Bloody hell, " he muttered, laying back on the bed and grappling with that mind maze.

But did she know? Did she know that Spike wasn't a little mental eunuch

anymore? Did Buffy know about the chip?

*****

He remembered arriving there. Halfrek had given him one wish, one freebie for what she had done to him. So he had asked for free will. He wanted to be what he was before the chip, and make up his mind about his unlife, about her, on his own.

He was dirty and torn when he arrived at the huts in the middle of bleeding nowhere. The demon had known him by scent. "Vampires reek of humanity, " he said that night, "Especially those that walk with the living."

He remembered thinking the creature seemed as old as time. But he was

strong and wise and something of a trickster. Spike did not trust him, but he did not come all of this way to play parlor games with the Sandman.

"What is it you have come here for?" the demon had asked him, annoyed by

Spike's impatience.

"I want to be the demon I was before the sodding chip was drilled into my skull. I want to be who I was before.."

"That is all?" the demon asked him.

"What else did you think I came for? Grub sandwiches and a lovely snifter of cow blood?"

"Are you prepared to meet the challenges?" the demon asked, brushing off

Spike's insolence.

"Plagues of locusts, raining fire, boiling seas....yeah, yeah... bring them on, " he had answered. He was so angry with her then. He just wanted this over with. He wanted to go back and show her what he was made of.

"If you succeed, you will be returned to your condition before the chip, " the demon said cryptically. "Return to your lodging, remove all ornaments and your clothing, and wait."

"I'm not here for a bleeding shag...." Spike retorted angrily.

"Go, " the demon ordered. Spike rose from the fire and went back to the

hut.

When he got there, there were guards. Tribesmen standing in front of his hut. He ducked inside and he watched their shapes move to block the door. He had no bloody idea what the old demon had in store for him - pushing boulders up mountains, or running through the savanna or fighting off other demons, or killing.... Spike undressed as he thought, folding his clothes into the corner, shoving his ring into his pants pocket. He felt something crinkle as he shoved it in. Slowly, he slid his fingers in and felt the waxy paper. He had forgotten he had the picture of her in his pocket. Why?

He hated her almost as much as he loved her. But she was the reason he was here. She would never love him as he was, so now she would have to either accept him, or kill him. Either way was better than this. He slid the photo back into his pocket.

He sat down on the mat in the middle of the floor, naked and alone. The

stars were almost visible through the thatch in the roof. Even here, he

thought, he was under the same sky as Buffy. Even here, he could not get away from her.

The demon arrived at doorway carrying a small wooden box. Spike looked at him curiously, his knees drawn up to his chest like a child. The demon set the box down next to the mat, and stood again, facing Spike, towering over him.

"Challenge the first, " the demon said. "is a test of your patience, your humility and your mind."

"Can't we just skip to the strength ones? I'm not much for the old thinking right now. Just want this over."

"That is exactly the point of the challenge, Vampire."

"Right, then. What do I do?" Spike said with annoyance.

"To be who you were, you must know who you were at the start, " the old

demon said.

"What in bloody hell are you getting it, old man?" Spike snapped. "I'm

getting rather bored sitting here in my birthday suit waiting around for you to test me."

"Patience, dead man, " the demon said calmly. "To be who you were, you must know who you were. Open the box."

Spike tore open the box. Inside of it was a candle, a box of matches,

several sheets or parchment and a fountain pen. "What is this nonsense?" he quipped annoyance in his voice.

"Write, William. It is an art you have lost. My first challenge for you is to write a poem. Remember why you were made to begin with."

"You have got to be kidding, " Spike said standing up, staring the Sandman in the eye. "This is not what I came here for."

"This is exactly what you came here for, " the demon boomed, the sound of his voice knocking Spike back a few feet. "You wanted to go back."

"Not to *him*!" Spike sputtered. "Not to that wretched love sick puppy."

"Who you were is part of who you are. You cannot forget that, William." the Sandman replied.

"I.." Spike began, like a child trying to argue an order from a parent.

"This is the first challenge. When you are finished, I will know, " the

demon said simply. "You may chose to leave at any time. If you do, you

will be as you were when you came to me tonight. A serial killer in

prison."

"Alright, alright," Spike said, lowering himself to his knees. The old

demon looked down upon him with a mixture of amusement and disdain, knowing that this would be the hardest of all for the vampire, and chuckled. Finally, he spun on one heavy heel and left the hut.

*****

Spike lit the candle. The smell was intoxicating. The room filled with

thick, sweet smoke. The walls of the hut seemed to disappear. The smells of the plains were gone. He found himself sitting on a couch in the sitting room of the old Victorian mansion the night he was turned. Was he there?

He looked around. Everything seemed solid, seemed real. He was alone in the room this time. There was an empty space where Cicely had sat, perched on the edge of the sofa, so many years ago. The thought of that moment still haunted him now. It was the moment he realized that he would never be worthy of a person's love.

His notebook was in his hands. And his pen. He was dressed again in the same ensemble as he had been that night. That fateful evening. He was 21 years old again, and terrified of this place.

Spike looked at the empty page, anger filling him. He did not want to write about love. He did not want to write at all. He set his pen to the paper....

"He walks the night with heart in hand,

Trying to get his fill.

Hunting his pray, not afraid of a fray

And the glory of the kill..."

What was he thinking? That is not how it was. Life was not a pub song. It certainly wasn't then. And the Sandman had told him that he had to know who he was. What could he write about?

Then she walked into the room. He stood politely as she came through the doorway, surrounded by people, effulgent in her beauty. His heart, which he noticed at this moment was indeed beating, skipped. Truly, always, he was a fool for love.

She did not belong here. Not in that Victorian gown, her blonde hair

bundled on top of her head like spun gold, little flowers weaving in and out of the strands. But she was so beautiful, more beautiful than he had ever seen her before. She was not the Slayer here, he could sense that. Just an ordinary young woman of extraordinary beauty. He thought about going to her, about speaking... but knew that this was not really her. And he was William. And William did not quite have Spike's finesse with the ladies.

Instead he sat on the chesterfield and watched her move through the now

crowded room. It dawned on him, after watching her smile and laugh and fan herself gently, that the people crowded around her were all familiar as well. He noticed that whelp Xander following her around in his short pants like a sodding lap dog. And the witches both trailing behind her giggling to themselves and blushing ruefully. Then the niblet, a beautiful little ray all her own, walking just behind her sister, pride and happiness on her sweet face.

He looked down, trying not to stare, and pushed the glasses up the bridge of his nose. Finally, he began to write.

William sat there, engrossed in the page, glancing up at his muse quickly just to remind himself of her. Not that he could ever forget. His heart burst just looking at her, and he did not even know *this* her. He suspected he did though. He would know her anywhere.

"William, " a gentle voice addressed him with such sweetness. He looked up nervously, pulling his notebook up against his chest. He stood in front of her. He was at a loss. He was not sure he even knew what to call her here. He was not Spike. And Buffy was not a common name then.

"Elizabeth, " she said, blushing. " We met a few months ago at the

Westmore's picnic?"

"Y...e..s.." he stuttered. She sat down, perched on the edge of the couch. He sat down next to her, a respectable distance away.

" I saw you sitting over here and thought you looked quite lonely, " she

said. He stared at her, studying those eyes. He knew that this was an

illusion, but her eyes were perfect. He could feel inside her head. She blushed under his gaze. "What are you writing?"

"A poem, actually," he said clutching the book more closely.

"May I read it?"

"Oh, no, it is not that good.... I am an awful poet, " he answered. "Just biding the time."

"I would still like to read it, if I could."

He handed her the book, his hands shaking. Her soft peach skin brushed his as she took it from him, pulling it into her lap softly. She stared down at the page, reading quietly. Why? Why was she here? This is not who he had been. He had been William. The societal reject, the disaster of the town, the one man who no woman wanted. The Bloody Awful Poet. She was not there. And if she were, she would never have given him the time of day.

He looked at her again, watching her studying the page. A tear escaped the corner of her eye and drizzled down her cheek.

"Elizabeth, I am so sorry, " he said, ripping the book away. "Please do not be insulted. I think so highly of you.."

"You wrote *that* about me?" she said, looking at him quizzically.

"Yes," he said blushing. "I am a terrible poet, but a good man."

"It was beautiful William, " she whispered, her eyes dewy.

He stared at her, his head cocked to the side for a moment. This was not how it had happened. If this had been the way, he would have never run into that alley. He would have stayed there for eternity, drinking the perfume of her smile.

" ' For she is to me as I am to her, murderer and savior' " she quoted. The last line of his poem. "What do you mean?"

"Love is the end and the beginning, " he answered. "It destroys you, kills you, and you rise as something new. Something better."

"I like that, " she said, resting her hand on top of his.

Then it all disappeared. The house, the chairs, the clothes... her. Spike was kneeling on the floor of the hut, sweating, heaving as he forced the air from his lungs, coughing and crying. In front of him was a piece of parchment, a lengthy poem. The last line stung him as he read it over and over. She had murdered him and saved him again.

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