Chapter 27

Sunday

Spike kicked at the burnt timber, waiting to speak to Giles once Tara, Willow, and Clem left. There was still much to do before they headed back to the house, and Spike wanted to say what he had to say and be done with it.

“Most of this will have to stay unfortunately.” Giles told him as he stepped over the shattered remains of a coffin. “There isn’t enough time to dispose of this stuff correctly. Clem said he would work tonight, but he had a card game to go to. I told him that was quite alright. I think we have enough room to do what we have to do. What do you think, Spike?”

At the mention of his name, Spike looked up. “Huh?”

“The room. I was asking you about the room.” Giles rubbed his fingers together, trying to remove the ash. “You’re not concerned in the least about the condition of this room. What is bothering you?”

Giles leaned against wall, flinching from the uneven surface of the earth. “Is it the operation or Buffy?” He asked quietly. It shocked him to realize that in all the months that he’d been back, he was beginning to read Spike more easily.

“It’s the three of them. If the worst happens, I want you to take them to England. Get them away from the Hellmouth, from me. Hide them.” There was no waver to Spike’s voice. Only an aching pain that Giles felt across the space that separated them.

“Spike…” Giles began. He looked, really looked at the slightly built man standing in front of him.

“She loves you, Spike. She trusts you. That would have been enough for me, but you’ve proven your mettle, your worth. The chip didn’t make you the man you are. It allowed you to be him. The man will remain, even if it doesn’t.”

Spike smirked. “A bit on the wordy side, but I hear what you’re saying Rupert. Thanks.”

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

Xander woke up, face down on the floor, his work boots the first sight that greeted him. He could see rays of light filtering through the semi-closed curtains. His head ached. His mouth tasted like sandpaper. He was surprised his eyes still worked, giving how dry they felt. He moved slowly up into a kneeling position and felt his stomach lurch with the effort. He had forgotten that his arm was fractured, and therefore, put weight on it. He screamed in agony, and rolled over onto his back, clutching his arm to his chest. It took him a bout of tears and deep breaths before he could move without cursing. When he did move, he felt the nausea roll through his stomach, and he crawled to the toilet.

How much did I have to drink? He thought, resting his head against his arm. He couldn’t remember much from the night before. He remembered going to O’Charley’s with Dewey. He remembered drinking and hanging out. He remembered Hallie’s sneering, laughing face. He coughed again, wishing he’d die from the pain. At least then, he’d be free from it. Sleep. He needed sleep. Then, he’d feel up to rejoining the real world again. He flushed the toilet and pulled himself up to the sink. The sight that greeted him made him cringe in disgust. He rinsed his mouth out, and stumbled to the bed. He lay down gingerly on his back, leaning over to pull the trash can closer. Probably should drink some water. Too tired. Too sick. Those were his last thoughts before he slipped into a blissful unconsciousness.

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

Shackelford was more convinced than ever that something was odd about Reginald Smythe-Bailey. The man was skittering around the suite like a mouse, jumping at every noise. He obviously had something to hide. What that was, was a mystery to him. He hated mysteries. He hated the unknown. He trusted his instincts, but if he confronted the younger man and there was no proof of anything out of the ordinary, then he would lose Travers’ confidence, and right now, they all needed to be confident in the other’s abilities.

“Have they left the crypt yet?” Travers asked angrily.

“Just the Watcher and the vampire remain. The witches and the other demon have left.” Dewey answered.

“And what about Ms. Summers and her sister? Are they alone right now?”

“Yes, they are. Do you want us to take them now?” Shackleford asked.

Travers shook his head. “No, we can’t risk any of them interfering. No, leave them for now. Let them think they have snatched victory out of the fires of defeat. They will suffer greatly for this. Make no mistake about it.” The room was eerily quiet. Each man taking note of the wild look to Travers’ eyes. Travers gazed at them, imprinting their fear and uncertainty into his mind. This was power. This was control.

“I want to visit the facility. Everything has to be in order. Our window of opportunity is small. I want to be on the plane to England before they realize we’ve taken the baby.”

Shackleford nodded tersely. Reginald clenched his fists behind his back. “On that note, Mr. Smythe-Bailey would you be so kind as to contact the individuals on this list? Inform them of our impending departure. Let them know they will be able to visit the child once she’s gotten settled into her new home.”

“Yes, sir.” Reginald answered, though the bile in his throat threatened to choke him. “I’ll start making the calls now.” He turned to go into the other suite, fully intending on making his escape once Travers and Shackleford left.

“Actually, I’d like for you to accompany us, Reginald. I may have other things that need doing, and Mr. Shackleford is not my personal assistant.”

Shackleford smirked. Damn straight, he wasn’t a secretary, but he was pleased that Reginald wouldn’t be left to his own devices.

“Come, Reginald.” Like a pet, Reginald trotted along after Travers. Shackleford lingered till they rounded the corner.

He placed his hand on Dewey’s shoulder, drawing the other man’s attention. “Check Reggie’s stuff. Something isn’t right about the man. He’s up to something.”

“I’ll look. Anything in particular I’m searching for?”

“Use your judgment, and let me know immediately.”

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

Evil flourishes when good men do nothing. That phrase echoed through Reginald’s mind as he watched Travers and Shackleford with the doctor. How could a man, sworn to care for men, willingly take part in the abduction of a child from her mother’s womb? He knew the reason. Money. Greed. It was despicable, sickening. It was all Reginald could do not to scream his outrage. How dare these people shatter the life of the innocent?

Shackleford glanced over his shoulder in time to see Reginald’s look of disdain. He filed that tiny bit of information away. The pieces to the puzzle that was Reginald Smythe-Bailey were slowly forming an ugly picture.

Shackleford stepped away from his companions to answer his cell.

“Yes.”

“We’ve got a problem.” Dewey knew that was a huge understatement. They had a major problem. He just wondered if he was going to get the blame for it.

“Tell me.”

“Surveillance equipment, disks, notes. It looks like he’s been keeping tabs on us while we’ve been keeping tabs on Buffy Summers.”

“Fuck!” Shackleford said tersely. His teeth nearly shattered as he clenched his jaw. Shackleford glared at the wall, instead of Reginald. He had to be calm. They wouldn’t find out anything useful from a corpse. No. They needed Mr. Smythe-Bailey alive and talkative. At least for the next 24 hours. He’d be cold by the time they left the States.

“Remember Mozambique? That village? Set it up.” He instructed. “We’ll be there shortly.” Shackleford actually felt better. He was right. God, he thought, it felt marvelous to have one’s instincts vindicated.

A shudder passed through Dewey’s body, and he had to restrain the urge to vomit. “Damn! That’s a bit much, don’t you think? These walls are a bit thin for that.”

“We’ll work around that.” Yes, his mood was definitely improving by leaps and bounds. The prospect of torture always put a smile on his face, like cotton candy would to a brat. But Dewey had a point. It wouldn’t do for the local police to be called in for screams.

“Okay,” he stated, “inform Mike we’re coming there for tonight’s entertainment.”

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

“You’re cooking?” Dawn said with a measure of fear. “Any particular reason why?” Dawn peered over Buffy’s shoulder to the cook book she held in her lap.

“No reason. Just thought it’d be nice to have a home-cooked meal tonight.” Buffy nibbled her lip, trying to decide if she should try and prepare Chicken Florentine with Spinach noodles or Pasta Primavera.

“Buffy,” Dawn said understandingly. She wrapped her arm around Buffy’s neck. “He’s coming back. You don’t have to do anything special for him.” Dawn moved till she stood in front of Buffy. She lifted Buffy’s chin and ‘ahh’ed at the tears she saw in Buffy’s eyes.

“Hey, no tears. He’s going to be fine. You’ll see.” Dawn’s attempt at reassurance only made Buffy cry harder.

Buffy sniffled, pulling back out of Dawn’s grasp. “I know. I just... something feels off. I’m afraid. I wasn’t afraid last night. I wasn’t afraid this morning, but I am now, and I can’t shake it.” Buffy wiped at her cheek with the back of her hand.

“I don’t want to let him out of my sight.” She admitted. “I hate feeling this way. This is the right thing to do, not only for her, but for Spike as well. He needs to do this.”

Dawn tore some paper towels off and handed them to Buffy. “You know what we’re going to do. Nothing. We’re going to treat this like any other Sunday. I’ll do my laundry. You’ll watch movies. When Spike comes back from the crypt, we’ll search the fridge for something moderately wholesome to eat.”

Buffy smiled weakly, loving Dawn for trying to make her feel better. “We have moderately wholesome things in the refrigerator. How’d that happen?” She joked.

Dawn wiggled her eyebrows. “I know. It’s a miracle, but your husband, my best friend, insists you eat right. And if you eat right, then unfortunately, so must I.” She wiped the last of the moisture off of Buffy’s cheek.

“Spike loves us, Buffy. He loves us so much, nothing will ever keep him from us. No chip. No Initiative. No hellgod will ever keep him from us. He’ll come back tomorrow night the same ol’ Spike with just a little less static electricity to him.”

Dawn pulled back, and took the paper towel from Buffy. “Now, forget about being Betty Crocker and go upstairs and rest. Because if I know the two of you, there will be some serious bed-knocking going on later.”

Buffy gasped in shock, but her cheeks stained red with the knowledge Dawn was right. She planned on giving Spike every reason to remember what he had waiting for him at home. She was still shocked to hear her sister talk that way.

“Dawnie!”

“What? My room may be on the other side of the hall, but I can still hear you. You need to pull the bed away from the wall a bit. That’s just a suggestion.”

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

Tara and Willow trekked in silence through the tunnels to the Magic Box. Willow had not mentioned Xander or attempted to contact him. Tara knew this wasn’t due to a lack of concern on her part, but a resignation to the fact that right now, Xander was angry and hurt. He’d made his feelings clear at the hospital. He felt betrayed, and he blamed Buffy and Willow for it. Tara grabbed Willow’s hand, smiling sweetly at her. Willow smiled back, grateful she had Tara in her life.

“Did Spike look worried? He looked concerned.” Willow commented, answering her own question.

“He… he was pensive, but that’s understandable.”

Willow nodded her agreement. “You’re right. Everyone gets nervous before surgery. Hey, I’m nervous.”

Tara halted, pulling Willow to a stop. “Will, Spike and Buffy trust you. They know you wouldn’t have suggested doing this operation if you couldn’t do it.” Tara’s hand caressed Willow’s cheek. Even though, their current location was dank and smelled foul, Willow was lost in Tara’s eyes. She found herself in a place of peace and love, and drank in the feeling and let it calm her nerves.

The kiss was quick, but was enough to refresh Willow’s batteries.

“Come on.” She said, tugging Tara into walking. “Let’s hit the Magic Box, pick up our supplies, then head home. I want to make some cookies and take them over to Buffy. She’ll need all the snacks she can get for tomorrow.”

“That’s true.” Tara readily agreed. “She won’t be happy until Spike’s safely at home, under her watchful eye. I won’t be happy till you’re safely in my arms.” Willow smiled into the kiss Tara gave her. With Tara around, it was hard to doubt herself. She gave Willow strength.

“I couldn’t do any of this without you, Tara.”

Tara smiled her soft smile and nodded. “Yes, you could Willow. I’m just the icing on the cake.”

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

Buffy wasn’t a reader. She didn’t have the patience to sit still for long periods of time. But Dawn was right. If she didn’t find something else to occupy her time, she’d be a nervous wreck by the time Spike returned. And crazy Buffy was not the person Spike needed to deal with tonight.

“He needs his wife.” She said with a smile. “And that would be me.”

Buffy stared at her wedding band. It still amazed her how different her life was from a year ago. I was dead. He was alone. Now, we’re both here, together, with Dawn and our baby.

So here she sat, reading her belated birthday gift from her husband, her mate. The man who knew her so well, she didn’t have to tell him she was a closet poetry lover. He just knew. Another sign that they were truly meant to be with each other, she loved poetry, and Spike was her poet.

“A scoop of double chocolate chip for your thoughts.” Spike said from the hallway. He’d come in earlier to find Dawn singing off-key to the latest hit by Shakira, and Buffy reading. The sight of her rendered him speechless. He hadn’t alerted her to his presence, content to stare at her, drink in the sight of her. He noticed her fascination with her wedding band, and her pronouncement that she was indeed his wife. It was said with such warmth and pride, Spike felt weak in the knees and an pride in his heart.

Buffy’s face lit up, and she gestured for Spike to join her on the sofa. “Come here, Big Bad, I want you to read to me.”

“I think I can do that.” Spike sauntered over to her, grinning at her eagerness. He dropped a kiss to her lips, and set about fluffing the pillows so she’d be comfortable.

Buffy’s eyes raked over Spike, and she had to resist the urge to jump ahead a few hours to the bed-knocking.

Spike saw the gleam in her eye, and arched his brow. He was all for heading upstairs, even though, it was early in the afternoon.

“Luv…”

“No.” She said playfully, kissing him lightly on the lips. She slid down his body, fitting all her parts with his, and handed him the book. “I want my sexy husband to read to me. We can ravish each other later.” She teased, grabbing his hand, and lacing her fingers between his.

“Promise?” Spike closed his eyes as he kissed the crown of her head.

“Promise.”

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

The phone rang loudly. Xander sat up in bed, his head rioting against the sudden movement. He reached blindly for the offensive contraption.

“What?!” He yelled into the phone.

“Xander, thank god. I was so worried about you.”

Willow. Just what he needed. Another pep talk from his supposed best friend.

“Yeah, I’m alive. I’m alive and kicking.” Xander looked down at the disheveled and stinking appearance of his body, and shrugged.

“Scratch the kicking part.”

Willow clutched the phone desperately. “I could come over and make you some soup or something.”

“Why?” Xander asked. “Oh, that’s right. The Guilty Willow cook-off. That’s right.” He sneered. “Well, I don’t need you to cook for me. I don’t need you to alleviate your guilt on me. All I need is another beer, some more sleep, and less friends like you and Buffy.”

Slamming the phone down on the receiver might have brought Xander a measure of righteousness, but it did nothing for his headache. He fell back on the bed with his head swimming and his stomach ready to revolt.

A memory flashed in his mind.

“Spike’s the hero, and I’m the leaper. He gets the girl. He gets the baby. He gets to get his chip out. And what do I get?” He asked.

“I get my heart stomped on by Anya’s cute little feet. It’s not fair. A few more days, and bye bye chip. Hello, freedom. It’s just not fair.”

The thought crossed Xander’s mind as it checked out again, that he might have said too much about Spike’s chip to Dewey. He couldn’t remember if Dewey had even caught what he was saying. Xander tried to recall the conversation, but like most of that night, it was lost.

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

They lay facing each other. Spike lightly caressed her belly button, his eyes steadily on her.

“I have a confession to make.”

Buffy smiled. “Hmm, just one? Tell me.”

“I told Giles to take you and the girls away if tomorrow doesn’t work out the way we planned.”

He expected anger. What he got surprised him and warmed his heart. She laughed. “Silly vampire, don’t you know there is no place I could go that you wouldn’t be able to find me?”

Buffy slid across the bed, till her stomach touched his, her head resting on his arm. “I’m not going anywhere. I trust you. I love you.” She looked up to see him staring at her wide-eyed. “You’re not Angel.”

Well, that was one way to kill the mood, if he’d been in the mood. “Thanks, Pet. Glad you finally noticed.”

Buffy smacked him playfully on the chest. “God, you are such a smart ass.”

“I know.” He chuckled, bending his head to capture her lips. “I know. Go on. Tell me how we’re different. Besides the fact, I’m better looking and smarter.”

Buffy nodded, grinning widely. She touched his cheek, gazing into his eyes before answering. “He needed a soul to love me. You don’t. You love me, us,” she said, guiding his hand back to her stomach. “Without a soul. You didn’t need the chip to love me, Spike. You always had it in you, and that’s what was always missing with Angel.”

Spike couldn’t help but be smug. He’d always known he was a better man than Angel, but to hear Buffy finally admit it. Well, excuse him, if he wanted to dance an Irish gig.

“Couldn’t love me without a soul. Wouldn’t fight for us with one. How could you doubt yourself when I don’t?”

Spike shook his head, amazed at. “I…I would die if I hurt you Buffy. I couldn’t live with myself, knowing I’d caused you or the Bit or our baby harm”

“And that’s the reason you’ll be the same person tomorrow night as you are tonight.” Buffy said, eerily echoing Giles’ words from earlier.

Spike tangled his fingers in her hair, pulling her mouth to his in a searing kiss that left both panting. Buffy touched his lips softly, marveling at their ability to steal her breath away. They stared deeply into each other’s eyes, trying to speak without words their love. It was there surrounding them like a blanket, keeping out the chill of the night and their enemies.

“You know what?” Buffy said, breaking the spell that enfolded them.

“What?”

Spike rose up onto his elbow, resting his head in his hand. Buffy adopted the same stance.

”Bitty’s blonde.” Buffy announced, smiling at the surprise on Spike’s face.

“You already told me she was blonde, Pet.”

Buffy rolled her eyes at the patronizing tone. “I’m serious. I thought I was projecting my wish to be blonde, and that’s why she had it in the dream realm. But there’s scientific evidence that if at least one member of our family has naturally blonde hair, she’ll have it.”

Spike couldn’t help but laugh, and Buffy was thrilled that she was able to bring some levity to the night.

“You did research.” He said, reaching across to stroke her cheek. His hand lingered near her mouth, and she turned slightly to kiss his fingers.

“I wanted to see if it was possible, and not just wishful thinking. I’m so ready to see her, hold her, feel her.”

“Not too much longer, luv. The countdown has begun.” Their hands hovered over Buffy’s stomach, delighting in the soft kick they felt. Buffy stroked her stomach softly.

“Is she doing her usual drills?” Spike asked, soaking in the sight of Buffy’s nude form. To him, she was a Ruben, deliciously round and soft.

“Actually, she’s been kinda quiet today. I think she’s picking up on my feelings.”

Spike stared into the hazel eyes of his wife, knowing he could see her heart, her soul. He could lose himself in them. “I meant every word I said when I married you, Buffy. You gave me hope and love and this beautiful babe. You’ve given me more than I deserve, and I will fight anything, anyone to get back to you. Do you believe me?”

Buffy nodded. “I do. You keep your promises.”

Spike edged closer, drawing Buffy gently into his arms. Their legs entwined. Their arms held each other tightly, creating a protective cocoon for their love and their child.

“I love you, Mr. Develin.”

“I love you, Mrs. Develin.”

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

April

Monsieur Jayme always stressed to me the importance of keeping this journal. He said one day others would read about me, and I would live on. I’ve thought about his words a lot in the last few days. I will live on, but not in the pages of this book, but in you, my love. You are me. You were created out of my love for your Papa. You will be our legacy.

I am so aware of everything now. My place in this world, my purpose. I was born so you shall live.

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

They say a person can sense danger. It is not supernatural, just the ability to feel the change in the air. It’s the same feeling one gets when you’re about to be mugged. You can sense that someone is there behind you, and though, you brace for it, prepared to shriek or scream in fright, it still happens anyway.

Reginald knew the moment Shackleford turned to face him, that he’d been discovered. His cover was blown. He’d known this moment was a possibility, and he was prepared. Reginald ran through his options.

I’ve got to get word to Mr. Giles and the Slayer. Barring that, must get a message to Olivia, and hope, she’s able to contact them in time. Think Reggie, think. They must have found my stuff at the hotel, which means they have the disks. Good thing, I sent the originals to Olivia. If I must die tonight, I’ll at least rest easy knowing Travers and his cronies will never hold the fate of the Slayer line in their hands again. He wished he had time to speak to his father, but he trusted Olivia to provide him with the details of his work.

Shackleford watched him, clocked his every move as he strode to the far end of the room. Reginald stared out the window, his hands clasped lazily in front of him. Let Shackleford think he was clueless. It would only give him the distinct advantage when it came time to escape.

“Reginald, we are ready. Dr. Frank, we will see you bright and early tomorrow morning. Once we are here, begin prepping Ms. Summers for the procedure.”

“Of course, Mr. Travers. We are prepared for the birth of the child. Even with her unique genetics, there should be relatively few complications. Please do not worry. I’ve handled interspecies births before.”

“I know you won’t fail me. I am more than sure you will do the very best of your ability.” Dr. Frank swallowed past the huge lump in his throat. Threat delivered and received. He would not fail.

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

Life can pass you by in an instant. Reginald’s deepest regret was never going to Disney World. He’d begged when he was younger, but fun and his father didn’t coexist in the same astral plane.

His father. He regretted the distance between them. Distance caused by his assumed allegiance to Travers. If only his father knew… The son was more like the father than he suspected.

He’d failed. He’d underestimated Travers. He hadn’t believed the man was capable of violence. Oh, yes, he could order someone killed or maimed, but the actual commission of the crime? No. That was too messy. Very un-Travers like.

As his eyes closed for the final time, Reginald was grateful the blade was as sharp as it was. He felt little pain as his throat was slit.

“I wanted to interrogate him.” Shackleford grimaced at the blood flowing from Reginald’s neck. If he’d known Travers would react so stupidly, he would never have revealed Reginald’s betrayal. They would get nothing from a corpse.

“I do as I damn well please. Now, get rid of the body and take me back to the hotel. I’m exhausted and I need to contact my associates, and make sure Reginald did not mislead them.”

Travers’ lip sneered in disgust for the young man slumped over in front of him. He’d treated Reginald like his own son, and he turned around and betrayed him. Betrayed him out of some misplaced loyalty to the Slayer and her mate. Well, there was no sense in dwelling. This time tomorrow, he’d have a daughter to mold into his own image, and she would control the fate of the world.

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

Dewey’s gaze followed the head of the Watcher’s Council as he made his way into the lobby of the hotel. You would never know by the look of him that he’d just slit the throat of his private secretary.

“I guess the interrogation is off.” Dewey quipped humorlessly.

Dewey watched fascinated as Shackleford gripped the steering wheel tightly, twisting the vinyl covering between his clenched fists.

“Didn’t give me a chance to get him to the house. Now, we’ll never know who he was working with and if he was able to inform them about our activities.” Shackleford pulled out of the circular drive, and raced for the outskirts of town.

“So where are we going?” Dewey asked, trying not to look at the still body in front of him.

“Going to place him where the demons can feast on him. Make him a nice little appetizer for the demon crowd tonight.” Shackleford kept his eyes trained on the road, but his mind was off in several different directions, trying to determine all the possible outcomes of his plan.

“You’re assuming they’ll eat him and no pieces will be found.” Dewey commented.

“If there happens to be parts of him still around for the police to identify, we’ll be on another continent, by the time they do. I doubt the locals will wonder much about who he is. This is a regular occurrence in this town. Travers will inform Reginald’s family of his death in the line of duty, and that will be the end of it. No one will suspect we had any involvement in his demise.” Shackleford smiled thinly at the neon sign illuminated the street.

“We’ll park around back and drag him into the alley. We’ll let the blood draw them to him.” Shackleford pulled around to the back of Willy’s bar, parking the car in the shadows. Dewey pulled his gloves out of his pocket and slipped them on. Shackleford stepped out into the lit portion of the alley and checked the street on both sides. There was light activity tonight. He motioned for Dewey to bring Reginald. Dewey leaned over the seat, unlatching the buckle. He climbed out of his door and opened the passenger door. Dead weight. Dewey mused. Of course, I’ll get no help from him with this. Not even my mess to clean up.

Grunting and pulling, Dewey managed to drag Reginald from the car. Shackleford raced back, taking Reginald’s legs. The two men ran with their bundle towards the back door of Willy’s. Shackleford stood watch as Dewey patted Reginald down. He took his wallet and anything that could remotely tie him to the Watcher’s Council or England.

“One more thing.” Shackleford gripped Reginald’s shirt, soaking his glove in the dark red blood. He proceeded to smear blood along the wall, leading toward the front door.

“If that doesn’t put them on his scent, nothing will.” Shackleford remarked. Surveying the scene one final time, confident he’d thought of everything, Shackleford beckoned for Dewey to get in the car.

Dewey looked back, his eyes scanning the alley.

“What is it?” Shackleford demanded.

Dewey strained to pick up what had caught his attention, but there was nothing there.

“It’s nothing. Just my imagination.”

Shackleford closed his eyes, straining with his other senses to pick up what had spooked Dewey. He knew Dewey. Knew he was a good soldier. After a minute of listening, and only hearing the normal sounds of the night, both men climbed in the car.

Neither man heard the weak, painful moan that emanated from the supposedly dead man.

“Let’s go.” He said, suddenly agitated. “Travers will be waiting on us.” The tail lights glowed eerily off the walls as the car sped away from the bar.

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

“I think I’m going to hit the sack. Watch a little telly. I’ve got a big day tomorrow.” Clem stated as he collected his meager winnings. The tabbies meowed as he placed them in his sack. It hadn't been one of his better nights at the table, but he was leaving with two kittens more than he came with, so that was good.

Clem shuffled past the bar, waving his hand in goodbye to Dave the bartender.

“See ya, Clem!” Several voices and grunts rang out after the cheerful demon.

Clem stepped outside, taking a deep breath and inhaling the scent of the crisp night. The smell of fresh blood hit him on the second inhale.

In his mind, this was the chain of events he found himself in. Blood equals dead human. Dead human equals either vampire or demon larger than him. Vampire and demons larger than him equaled a butt-kicking or worse. But there was always the off-chance that it could be one of his friends, so with that thought in mind and his cell phone at the ready to call for back-up, Clem peered around the corner.

His eyes scanned the alley, checking for other life signs. Checking behind him, Clem ran towards the lump propped against Willy’s back door.

“Umm… Excuse me. Are you alive?” Clem asked, pushing the man’s leg with his boot. He did it again when he got no response. He jumped nearly a foot in the air when it moaned or gurgled.

“Okay. You’re alive. You need help. I could call Spike, but he’s probably resting for tomorrow. I can’t leave you here. You’ll get eaten.”

Clem bounced from foot to foot, racked with indecision. “What would Spike do?” He asked the man.

Clem punched in 911. He told the operator about the man in the alley behind Willy’s. At first the operator was reluctant to send anyone, but Clem assured her it was a human, and he’d even drag the man to the other side of the street if they’d just come in a hurry.

Clem pushed his kitten cargo around onto his back, and as gently as possible, hefted the man in his arms.

“Ooh, that’s a nasty cut. Better put something on it to stop the bleeding.” Clem pulled out the handkerchief his mother always insisted he carry with him, and tied it around the gaping wound in the man’s neck.

“That should hold until they get here. Let’s get you across the street.”

Clem dragged the unconscious man out of the alley and laid him down under the street light. He heard the sirens as they neared, and waited for the last possible moment to run and hide behind a dumpster. When he was sure he hadn’t been spotted, he slipped down the alley and made his way home. He couldn’t wait to share his news with Spike. He saved a man’s life. He was a hero like his buddy, Spike.

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

The morning dawned like any other morning in the Summers-Develin household. They slept in. They were lucky if they made it to the shower by noon. Of course, if Joyce were still alive, they’d be up, downstairs having waffles and coffee. But with the three of them, they took it easy, relaxed. Spike wanted to bottle this feeling up and take it with him to the crypt. Drink it, absorb it into his flesh, and steel his heart and mind as the chip was removed.

Buffy stirred, her nose scrunching up in the delectable way it did when she was caught between waking and slumber. Spike reached out and tipped it with his finger, careful to not awaken her. This was his time of the day. The time he took for himself to indulge in unabashed Buffy-watching. Some mornings he would trace the lines of her face. Others, he’d lean in close to take in her breath as she slept. He felt like a thief stealing something precious and wonderful, a priceless gem that no other person was able to experience. She was his friend and lover, his mate and partner. She was his everything.

He smiled slightly as Buffy scooted closer to him, unable to bury her head under his chin due to her swelled belly. Spike wrapped his arm around her waist, stroking her back. Buffy sighed and settled back into a deeper sleep.

They still had time to cuddle before he headed to the crypt. He just needed a few more minutes to soak up the essence of their home. He was coming back, of that he no longer had a doubt.

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

Buffy sat in the window, staring out at the street. It was going to be a beautiful day, full of sunlight. It was a day of hope, and that’s the way she would always remember this day. This was just another hurdle they had to get over. Just another thing they had to defeat in order to keep what they had. Happiness. Family. Each other.

“You’re beautiful.” Buffy smiled at the sentiment.

“You always think I’m beautiful. If I had demon guts in my hair and blood on my face, you’d still say I was the best looking woman on the planet. Right?” She teased.

“Yep. But standing in the sunlight with our baby bathed in it, you’re achingly beautiful.” Spike stared at her, imprinting her scent, her face, everything about her to memory. He wanted to make sure the demon knew who they loved and why. She was his everything, and he didn’t plan on losing her.

“I love you.” He said simply. Buffy waddled over to him, throwing her arms around his neck and holding tightly. She just needed to hold him, feel him against her bosom. Feel his hair sliding between her fingers, put her scent on him and his on her, so they would have each other during this separation.

She knew that, of course, but she also understood the need to say it out loud. Just a reaffirmation, for them, for their child. “I love you, too. Always.”

Her finger traced his scarred brow, before he captured her hand and brought it to his lips. His eyes closed as he did this, and Buffy had to fight back tears. This would not be the last day they had together. She refused to believe that.

Buffy took his hand and squeezed. Piercing blue eyes opened, a question posed within them. “You’d better get going.”

Spike nodded, though he didn’t move. He didn’t want to let her go. He didn’t want to believe this would be the last day he looked at her with love in his eyes.

“The sooner you go, the sooner you’ll be back.” She told him. She had to be strong. She couldn’t allow him to see how scared she was. It was bad enough he was going to be blind, but the possibility, however remote it was, that he wouldn’t return was enough to have her stomach clenching in pain.

“You get some rest today.” He told her, pulling her into his arms. “Don’t eat all the cookies. Save some for me.”

“I will.” She said, her voice muffled.

Setting her down gently on the floor, he caressed her cheek as he strode out the room.

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

Xander tried to shake off the nausea, but there were times, like now, that it hit him. He still couldn’t believe he was suffering the aftereffects of Saturday night. Sunday was a blur. He vaguely remembered the phone ringing, tearing it out of the wall, heaving into the trash can, the toilet, then collapsing onto the bed. He woke up after dark, drank some water, then slipped back into a merciful sleep.

He racked his brain to remember what he’d drank and how much, but he could only recall snippets of conversation.

“Umm.. wow, Xander… You really hate this guy, don’t you?”

“Yes...No. I don’t hate him. I just don’t see,” he said, taking Dewey’s drink. He frowned at the decidedly lack of alcohol, but shrugged it off. “I just don’t see why he gets to have all these gifts, and I don’t. Haven’t I fought the good fight? Tried to do the right things?”

“Yeah, you have, but sometimes, living right isn’t enough.”

Can I be any more of a loser? Xander thought, trying to concentrate on the schedule in front of him. They needed to get the east wall of the gym down by noon. He checked his watch. That gave them three hours to get the job done. It would be a push, but his guys were experienced enough to do it.

He wondered if Giles and Willow had started the chip removal.

It wasn’t a chip removal as much as a ‘welcome home, Mr. Big Bad party’. He wasn’t worried for Giles and Willow. They could handle themselves against Spike. No, he was worried about the aftermath. He didn’t feel much like saying “I told you so” to them. He knew Buffy and Dawn would be devastated and a child would be fatherless. And that wasn’t all of it. If he was wrong about Spike, wrong about the chip, then he still had to deal with the whole Anya and Giles relationship. Yep, good tidings all around in their little Peyton Place.

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

Dawn glanced up the stairs again, torn between racing upstairs to hold Buffy’s hand and helping Tara with the spell. She didn’t want to crowd Buffy. When Spike had left earlier, no words were spoken, just a wink and a smile. She had faith in Spike. She always had. She knew he was coming back, but the waiting was murder. She almost wished for school at this point. Something to keep her mind off the proceedings at the crypt.

“You don’t have a magic ball or something for us to see what’s going on?” She asked, stomping her long, awkward body into the dining room.

Tara looked up, her eyes soft and understanding.

“No, Dawnie. I could, but we can’t allow anything to disturb the field around Spike. We can’t risk it, honey.” Tara cupped Dawn’s chin.

“I know. I’m just anxious. I’m ready for this to be over and done with.” Dawn said, lowering her head. In a soft voice, she said. “I just want my family together.”

“Soon, Dawn. Soon.”

Dawn sighed softly, pushing off the wall. She wandered into the living room, her eyes roaming over the photos and mementos strewn about it. Dawn picked up a photo, tears welling in her eyes. Tara peered over her shoulder. She smiled as she recognized the photo as one taken the night of Buffy’s welcome home/engagement party. It seemed like a lifetime ago.

“Do you think he’ll ever come around? To Spike? To Giles and Anya?” The last bit was spoken softly as Dawn was swamped with memories of happier times with Xander.

Tara embraced her, squeezing Dawn’s shoulders lightly.

“I don’t know, Dawn. He feels betrayed by the people he loves the most.”

Dawn shook her furiously. “No, we’re family. You don’t abandon family. You fuss and fight, but you stick together during the hard times. He should be here, no matter what his feelings are.” Dawn crossed her arms over her chest, pouting.

“Xander needs time Dawn. Time and distance are the only things we can give him right now. He still loves us. One day we’ll look up and he’ll be there.” Tara tucked her hair behind her ears.

“It might be too late by then.” Dawn answered, looking over her shoulder at the picture.

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

Dewey scanned the house with the infrared binoculars. He was able to detect two figures on the lower floor, and a third on the upper. Since the heat signature of the third figure was radiating more, he came to the conclusion it was their target, Buffy.

“The target is in the front bedroom, top floor. She’s alone. The other two are on the lower level. No sign of anyone else. The perimeter is clear. Over.”

Shackleford smirked. Perfect. “Copy. Stay in position. We’re preparing to break the barrier. As soon as I give you the signal, move in. Mike, are you in position?”

Mike crept through the back gate, sticking to the shadows of the yard. From where he stood, the back steps were covered. There would be no escape for any of the occupants. “In position and awaiting orders.”

“Good.” Shackleford turned to Travers, who was actually grinning like a Cheshire cat. Warren sat across from them in the van, darting glances to and fro like the big rat he was. Shackleford had to resist the childish urge to shout boo. “Everyone’s in position. As soon as the barrier is done, we can move in.”

“Excellent. Let’s give them another hour. By that time, they should be well into the first surgery. We don’t want them alerted too soon. Monitor the phone lines. Once the group at the crypt calls to check in, we’ll move in.”

Warren nibbled his nail, wondering if he could make the back door before Shackleford caught him.

“Don’t try it. You’d be dead before you hit the door.” Shackleford said, not looking away from his binoculars. “Just sit back. You’ll get your reward soon enough. Or don’t you want the chance to take out the Slayer.”

“Yes, Warren, I’m surprised. Ms. Summers thwarted all your plans. Got your friends arrested. Put you on the Most Wanted List, and yet, you want to run. Are you afraid of her?” Travers snickered. If the boy had any sense, he should be scared of her. Buffy was the best Slayer ever to live, except for that nasty independent streak. Travers would have gladly supported her till her ultimate death, but she had to go against him. Had to work against him, and that was her fatal mistake.

“Fine.” Warren said exasperated. “I’m just antsy. I don’t like being out in the open. What if someone sees me?”

“No one will, so please sit back and don’t worry. Soon, you’ll have your revenge and I’ll have a daughter.”

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

Spike pulled the picture of his daughter out of his pocket, pressing it to his lips before laying down on the sarcophagus. He turned his head to the side, staring at the wall that once held his memorial to Buffy. He had to laugh at his stupidity.

“Red, don’t give me a Mohawk or anything. We wouldn’t want Buffy to think she married a punk or anything.”

Willow bit her lip to keep from laughing. Giles’ eyes widened in amusement, but he restrained the ready reply that Buffy had willing said ‘I do’ to Billy Idol.

“I won’t Spike. Just a little snip, snip, and it’s gone.”

Spike heard Giles’ indrawn breath. “Um…Willow, when you’re around men, you don’t make the whole snip, snip comment. We tend to take it the wrong way.”

Willow was confused, until she looked at the blush rising along Giles’ face. “Oh, you associate it with…. Oh.”

“Let’s get started, shall we.” Giles piped in. “The sooner we complete our task, the sooner we will be back with Buffy.”

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

Anya was a nervous wreck. She was worried about Giles. She was worried about Spike. She was worried about Buffy. And damn it all to hell, she was even worried about Xander. She knew the situation was desperate, when she got no pleasure from the NASDAQ scroll on CNN. In times like these, she would normally dye her hair, but she couldn’t do that. The doctors wouldn’t let her. It was some sort of torture she was sure. Dye made her feel better. She needed honey blonde or brown delight to cheer her up.

She wanted out of this stinking hospital with its sixty count sheets, bad food, and no sex in room policy. What kind of policy was that? Sex would make her feel better. Sex would definitely boost her spirits, thereby causing her body to heal faster. She was sure there was something in the medical journals to prove her theory.

“Anyanka!” Hallie appeared out of nowhere in a cloud of smoke so thick, Anya was sure the fire alarms would be set off by it. “I’ve come to keep you company on this fine day.”

“Oh, yay!” Anya remarked sarcastically. “I thought you had some JD work to do today.”

Hallie pulled a chair up close to the bed, her mouth twisting into a frown at the slate grey vinyl. “They really should get a new decorator. This place is the pits.”

Anya rolled her eyes, wishing she were unconscious or out for tests. “It’s a hospital, Hallie, not a resort.”

“But still… Anyhoo. I have to wait for the child to summon me. She hasn’t yet. Until she does, I’m in a holding pattern.” Hallie went about arranging her body in the chair for maximum exposure.

“Aren’t I lucky?” Anya mumbled under her breath.

“What did you say?” Hallie asked suspiciously. She leaned in close to better hear Anya.

“Oh, nothing. Just said you were lucky to be working.”

Hallie preened. “Yes, I am. You know you really should have taken D’Hoffryn up on his offer after the wedding. That ex-fiancé of yours is nothing but a lout. A good curse would have made the world a nicer place for ladies like me.”

“Bullshitchoo. Oh, excuse me. Nose tickle.” Anya said innocently. “What would have been the point, Hallie? I didn’t want to curse him. I just wanted him to go away, and he has. I have a new beau who loves me, loves everything about me. I can’t dwell on Xander.”

Hallie thought the older British gent was nice, but he was human and therefore, still eww. “I know. You’re in love. But I’m not, and Xander and his drunken behavior nearly ruined my date the other night. Luckily for me, his friends carted him off before he got into any real trouble.”

Anya leaned her head back against the pillow. That would have been Saturday night after the big blowup with Buffy and Willow. Terrific. Now, she was carrying the guilt of Xander around on her shoulders. And she’d never really looked good in shoulder pads.

Hallie slammed her compact shut with a loud click. “Anyanka! You did not tell me William was getting his chip removed. We are friends. You could have told me, instead of letting me find out through the grapevine.”

Anya’s eyes snapped open. “What?!”

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

“Tara’s got the barrier up.” Dawn stood in the doorway, smiling, but Buffy could see the concern in her eyes.

Buffy knew this would be the look of the day, and sought to reassure Dawn.

“I’m fine. You don’t have to watch me. I’m not going to break down or chew my nails to the quick. I know Spike’s coming home. We’re going to be together with you and the baby.”

Dawn moved quickly to kneel at Buffy’s feet. Her hands covered Buffy’s, the matching bands clinking as the sisters held each other tightly.

“I know, Buffy. I love him too.”

Buffy nodded, her eyes tearing. “I’m not going to cry.” She stated, but thinking of Spike, and how he came into their lives and saved them both, necessitated a good sniffle.

“He’s pretty terrific for an evil, bloodsucking fiend.” Dawn giggled at Buffy’s wide-eyed look. “What? You talk in the shower. I should have figured out the two of you were together”, Dawn said, laying her head down on Buffy’s knee, “by the talks you had with the showerhead.”

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

Willow ran her fingers over the small square of bald scalp.

“I guess it’s now or never.” She said absently.

“Yes, let’s get on with it, Willow. We only gave Spike enough to last for two hours. We don’t want him thrashing about when you’re doing the spell.” Giles said brusquely.

Willow didn’t take offense. She knew he was just concerned, not only for Spike, but for Buffy. She felt the same way, and wished she could do a spell to make the jitters go away.

Willow brought the scalpel to Spike’s head, her hand shaking as she prepared to make the first incision. She licked her dry lips and pressed down into the flesh. Blood bubbled to the surface and was quickly wiped away by Giles.

“This is absolutely fascinating. Spike’s healing abilities should regrow the skin over this area.”

“Should? Don’t you mean will?” Willow looked up briefly from her task. “Giles, do you have any idea how long it will take before the process starts?”

Giles dabbed the second cut and awaited the third. “No. We know Spike heals pretty fast, as evidenced by his recovery from his fall last summer.”

Willow nodded, wincing as she nicked bone on her last pass. “Yeah, but we had to force him to eat. He wouldn’t. Only after you guilted him into it, did he start to heal.”

Giles remembered that mad week. If it hadn’t been for Dawn, they would have forgotten all about Spike, so consumed by their grief. But Dawn had forced Giles and Xander to go and check on Spike, and they’d found him, sprawled out on his sarcophagus unwilling to move. He had wanted to die. But one mention of Dawn, and Spike had pulled himself together and was on the road to recovery.

“We should still be okay. As long as we keep the wound clean and moist, nature should take its course and close the wound.”

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

“I’m going to make some sandwiches for lunch. Can I interest you in something?” Tara walked into the room, and sat on the bed.

Buffy stood in front of the mirror, pulling her hair back into a ponytail. The slight shake of her head, as she struggled with the scrunchie, belied her true intention.

“You have to eat, Buffy.”

Buffy turned and crossed her arms over her stomach. “I’m fine, Tara. Really. In fact, I’m going to make this room “Spike-friendly”.

The unbidden image of how friendly this room, this bed had been to Spike hit Tara and caused her cheeks to redden.

“That’ll be… what?” Tara asked, letting her hair fall so it covered her cheeks.

“Just to make sure Spike is able to get around in here without killing himself.” Buffy answered, taking one final look at herself in the mirror. “He’s not one to be mollycoddled. In fact, he’s downright surly about it.”

Buffy shrugged as she made to pick up the various baby and hardback books scattered on Spike’s side of the bed. “In Spike’s defense, not all of these are his. We just throw everything on his side, so I can rush to the bathroom without breaking my neck.”

Tara laughed as she got up from the bed. “Okay, I’ll let you clean in peace. If you need anything, just holler down.”

Buffy placed the books on the shelf, glancing over her shoulder at Tara. “Thanks.”

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

Anya leaned forward, grabbing Hallie’s hand in a death grip.

“What did you say?” She demanded.

Hallie pried Anya’s fingers loose.

“Really, Anyanka… That hurts. Have you been working out or something?” She said, rubbing the feeling back into her hand. “I thought you knew. So they are keeping secrets from you too? Hmm… That doesn’t bode well for your newest paramour.”

“Shut up, Hallie. I know about the chip. How do you know about it?”

Hallie’s mouth was still hanging open from the sharp rebuke, and it took her a moment to decide if she really wanted to tell Anya anything.

“Fine. You don’t have to be so rude about it.” Hallie ran her hand through her hair. “I went out to a bar to meet a friend. Xander was there. Looked like he’d been there all day.” She said huffily.

Anya glared.

“Well, anyway, he was drunk and started talking really loud about William… Spike.”

“And you eavesdropped.” Anya said with a smirk on her face.

“Yes, Anyanka, I eavesdropped. William is sorta my friend, despite that whole business with him dying and all. I was curious. Now, tell me when did he decide to get the chip out? Does this mean he and the Slayer are finished?”

Anya sat up worried. “Who was the man he was talking to?”

“I don’t know. Nice looking guy, brown hair, stocky. His friend, though, was scary. I think it was his eyes. Black and cold.” Hallie’s mind wandered back to the bar and she could see him clearly.

“There was another man with them?” Oh, god, could this have been what Buffy was worried about? Xander? No, he couldn’t betray her. He wouldn’t. Would he?

“Luckily for Xander, his friends took him out of there before he could make an even bigger ass out of himself.”

Anya was torn. Did she call Giles? No, she couldn’t. He’d told her the phone’s electrical field could disrupt Willow’s spell. Xander? And say what? Did you tell someone you shouldn’t have about Spike’s chip? No, he’d just ignore her call. Buffy? She could call Buffy and check up on her.

“Hallie, I may need you to go check on something for me. Do you think you could do me this favor?” Anya punched in Buffy’s number.

“Hello.”

“Buffy! Great! It’s Anya.”

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

“Is everyone in position?” Shackleford asked.

“Yes. Yes.” Answered Mike and Dewey.

“We go in ten minutes. Remember, we need to tranq the Slayer before she can attack us. Blood must be drawn from the sister and packaged in ice. You have fifteen minutes to get the house secured.”

“Copy.”

Shackleford turned in his seat. He and Travers shared a look. Travers opened his phone and made the call. “We’ll be leaving in half an hour. We should be to you by one.”

Warren rubbed his fist across his mouth. He was nervous and scared, but strangely excited. He would have Buffy in his grasp soon. He’d have her all to himself with a room full of surgical equipment. He might send her back to Spike with a few modifications. See if he loved her after he was through with her.

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

Willow and Giles peered over into the gaping hole that was Spike’s skull and stared at the chip which had controlled his actions for nearly three years.

“It’s so tiny.” Willow noted.

“Tiny, but highly effective.” Giles checked his watch. They had another hour before the sedative began to wear off.

“Okay, I’m going to get the spell ready. It shouldn’t be much longer before we can start.” Willow walked over to the other side of the crypt, leaving Spike and Giles alone.

Giles knelt beside Spike, noticing the stillness of a man who had no need for breathe. Where was all the hatred he’d felt for Angelus? Why had Spike never been afforded either the compassion or the hatred that Angel had inspired in him?

“Spike, I know you can hear me. We’re getting ready to remove the chip. It shouldn’t be much longer.” Spike showed no visible signs of hearing him.

There was a part of Spike’s subconscious that registered Giles’ words.

“Daddy… Daddy. Wake up, Daddy.”

Spike’s eyes opened and he found himself in a room with 2 chairs and a child’s tea set on a table. He smiled as he picked up the tiny ceramic tea pot. It was warm to the touch.

He looked around for the owner of the tea set, knowing it had to be his little girl.

“Bitty, where are you? Daddy’s ready to play.”

“You’re supposed to find me, Daddy. You have to look for me.”

Spike stood up and walked the length of the room, which seemed to get longer as he walked. “I’m not going to be easy to find Daddy, but you can do it. I know you can.”

Spike was becoming frantic. He couldn’t find her. He didn’t know where she was, and he had a feeling he wouldn’t get to her in time.

“Bitty, I don’t like this game. Daddy needs to see you. Won’t you come out?”

A hand reached out of the darkness and took his. A tiny hand, no bigger than his forefinger. Spike felt his heart soar with the touch.

Spike knelt and reached through the darkness. He felt for her body, and finally was able to pull her through into the light.

“Daddy.” She cried, wrapping her tiny arms around his neck.

Spike hugged her tightly. He never wanted to let her go. “Oh, I’ve wanted to see you for so long, my little darling.”

“Hi, Daddy.” Bitty laid her head on Spike’s shoulder. He could feel her breath on his neck, and her hair brushing against his chin.

“Hi, Bitty.”

Spike stood up, walking over to the chairs. He sat down, tucking Bitty into the crook of his arm. “Shall we have tea?”

Bitty nodded her head, blonde curls bouncing around her face. She’s her mother’s child. Spike kissed her softly on the temple, his eyes filling with unshed tears.

“Can we have cookies too?” Bitty asked, pointing to the plate of cookies.

“You can have anything you want, my love.”

“I love you, Daddy.”

Say it again. He wanted to shout. “I love you.” Spike held the plate while Bitty picked up a cookie.

“Does it hurt, Daddy?” Bitty pointed to the bandage on the back of Spike’s head.

“No. They gave me something so I won’t feel it.” This whole situation was surreal. Here he was having a conversation with his unborn child while Giles and Willow were poking around in his head. Yep, this was definitely the weirdest and blessed event of his life.

“Good. I don’t like it when you and Mommy hurt.”

Spike grinned and brushed his lips over her temple. “I don’t like it when Mommy hurts either.”

“Then stop them, Daddy. Stop them.” Spike watched in horror as Bitty’s little face turned red and her face became awash with tears. He pulled her into his arms, stroking her back, trying to calm her.

“Bitty… sweetie, what is it? What’s wrong?” He cajoled.

“The bad men are hurting Mommy.” She cried. “Ow!! Daddy… Hurry! Mommy! Auntie Dawn!”

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

“Hey, Anya. How are you?”

“Buffy, listen, is everything okay at the house?” Anya twisted the phone cord around her finger.

Buffy shook her head. “I’m fine, Anya. I wish you guys wouldn’t worry about me. I trust Willow and Giles. They’ll bring Spike home to me.”

Anya glared at the receiver. “That’s good. Great for you and Spike. Listen. Hallie told me Xander was out Saturday night talking about Spike and the chip with two men.”

“What?” Buffy shouted, holding her stomach in a protective gesture as she sat down on the bed. “Who were these men?”

“I don’t know, Buffy. She didn’t know them. I just thought you should…” Click. The phone went dead.

“Buffy?”

“Anya?” Buffy pushed the Flash button, trying to clear the line. There was no dial tone.

“Buffy, what’s wrong?” Dawn had run up the stairs upon hearing Buffy’s exclamation.

“Dawn, tell Tara we’re leaving.”

“What? Why?”

“Just trust me, Dawn. We don’t have time.” Buffy grabbed her keys and her cell phone, and pushed Dawn out the door.

Buffy called out for Tara as the front door crashed open. Buffy and Dawn halted at the top of the stairs. Tara looked up at them with fear in her eyes, as she frantically tried to bar the front door. She was able to erect a small barrier, but it quickly fell as she was struck from behind by. The barrier fell as she fell to the ground.

“Dawn.” Buffy grabbed Dawn and they raced into Dawn’s bedroom. Buffy wedged a bookcase under the lock. It would give them a few minutes, but not much more. “Here. Take the phone. Try to get in touch with Giles.”

“Buffy.” Dawn cried, knowing Buffy wasn’t going to be able to follow her. “Please, we can make it.”

Buffy took Dawn’s hands in hers. “We won’t. I can’t risk falling, Dawn. But you can get away. Get us some help.” The lock wasn’t going to hold. “You have to go now. Please go! Find Spike.”

Buffy pushed open the window, checking to see if anyone was on the side of the house. “It looks clear. Do you still have that crossbow under your bed?”

“Yeah.” Dawn said. She couldn’t abandon Buffy and Tara. She couldn’t.

“Here. Take this.” Buffy shoved the crossbow and arrows into Dawn’s hands. “Shoot anything that grabs you.” Buffy pushed Dawn out the window. “I love you, Dawnie. Now, go!”

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

Spike sat up, his eyes wide with fear. He reached out blindly, searching the air for Giles.

“Giles!” Spike shouted, falling off the sarcophagus onto the hard ground. His shins were bruised, but he didn’t care. He had to get to Buffy. “Willow!”

Giles and Willow scrambled down the ladder to find Spike on his knees crawling towards the tunnels.

“Spike, good God, man. What is it?”

Spike clutched at Giles’ arms. “Buffy. Something’s wrong. Bitty… She was crying and screaming for Buffy and Dawn. She said the bad men were hurting Buffy.”

Giles turned his phone on at the same time it rang. “Hello.” He said gruffly.

“Giles, oh, my god, I’ve been calling you. Something’s wrong at the house.” Anya was frantic. She’d tried Buffy’s number several times with no luck. “We were on the phone, then the line went dead.”

Travers. Oh, dear, lord, no. “Call the police.” They usually didn’t have much use for the police, but until they could get there, they would have to do.

“Okay, but hurry!” Anya shouted.

“Red, forget about the damn bandages. Call Buffy.” Spike pushed Willow away from him.

“Spike…” Giles began. What did he say? “The line’s dead at the house. We need to go.”

Willow gasped. “Tara?” Willow stretched her senses to touch Tara. “Oh, god.”

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

Buffy watched as Dawn skirted the roof and dropped out of view. The door finally gave under the assault, splinters of wood flying through the air. Buffy sucked in her breathe.

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Oh, but I want to hurt you.” Buffy quipped, waiting for the man to make the first move. He grabbed for her, but she ducked and managed to deliver a blow to his cheek. To Dewey, it felt like someone had cracked him on the jaw with a bat. He grabbed Buffy’s ankle, tripping her. She fell hard to the floor.

Buffy cried out, but her anger and fear fueled her. She kicked out, hitting Dewey in the face. He was knocked unconscious. Buffy scrambled to her feet. Her eyes were red with unshed tears and worry.

Oh, god, the baby.

“Ms. Summers, stop this before you hurt your child.”

Buffy leaned against the wall, pain lancing through her stomach.

“It’s pointless to continue to fight us. We have your sister. Any further resistance by you will only result in something unpleasant happening to her and your friend here.” Travers stepped into the foyer. He pointed to the tied up Tara.

“Come down here, and we’ll let your sister go.”

Buffy weighed her options. The pain was increasing. She couldn’t fight them. They had Dawn and Tara.

“You won’t hurt them.” She asked, though, she knew they weren’t the prize he was after.

“I promise. Have you hurt yourself?” Travers’ eyes narrowed, noting the way Buffy was holding her stomach and wincing.

“Please don’t do this.”

Buffy got to the last step. Two sets of hands grabbed her, and she felt a prick as a needle was jammed into her arm. The last coherent thing she remembered was Travers’ smile as she drifted off to sleep.

TBC

Next