Author’s Note: Thanks for your patience. It was never my intention to take so long to publish this next chapter. I’ve said it before, and it may sound like a broken record, but RL got in the way big time. For those who’ve emailed me with your words of encouragement, thank you. My mother is doing much better, and hopefully, she’ll not have to see the inside of a hospital again.

I’ve got good and bad news. This isn’t the end. In fact, I’ve changed the ending somewhat so you’re not going to see it anytime soon. Probably not for another 4-5 chapters. I realized there were too many plotlines left dangling, and to do them justice, I needed more time. This chapter is all about Spuffy and Bitty. The next chapter is written. I’ve got some juggling to do to bring it up to speed, but I’ll have it after the Thanksgiving holidays. The end will probably come around New Years. Hope you stick with me till the end.

Thanks again, and enjoy!  Witchie

PS: Thanks, Kumi (the best beta hands down)

Note to self: Don’t volunteer to be bait.

Dawn groggily opened her eyes, squinting against the glare of the bedside lamp.

“Ah, good, you’re awake.”

Dawn struggled to sit up, wincing from the bruises on her arms and…the fresh needle mark.

“I’m going to take a wild guess and say Travers sent you.”

Shackleford inclined his head, setting the vial of her blood on the table. He sighed hard as he pulled a chair up to the bed. “He’s not happy with you or your sister. Speaking of big sis, where is she?”

The platinum-haired devil on Dawn’s shoulder told her to go for it. Piss them off. Delay until the cavalry showed up. Being the best student in the Spikeisms class at Sunnydale High, Dawn crossed her arms over her chest and glared at both men... One glare for both men on opposite sides of the bed. Not an easy feat, by a long shot, but she pulled it off rather well, she thought.

“You tell me. You’ve been watching us, right? Wasn’t that your job?” She smirked.

Shackleford’s eyes narrowed and his gaze was pure evil, but in Dawn’s book, it rated a ‘been there, seen that’. She was not fazed.

“Don’t play with me, little girl. Where are they?” He yelled, looming over her.

Dawn quirked an eyebrow and leaned in closer. “I’ve been threatened by a hellgod. Do you really think you’re intimidating? Well, guess what? You’re not.”

Dewey had to give it to the teenager. She had balls, but she definitely was playing with the wrong psychopath. Shackleford would kill her and not think twice.

Shackleford was pondering the idea as he pulled his hunting knife out of its sheath. “Let’s play a round of twenty questions. Different rules, though, you’ll answer my questions or I’ll slice a piece of skin off.”

Dawn’s eyes widened a bit as the knife neared her eye, but the thunderous stomping of feet had her diving towards Dewey.

The door blew off its hinges, flying across the room. Willow floated through the door, her hair flying about her head in a reddish halo. Sparks flew from her fingertips and her eyes…well; they put Shackleford’s to shame.

“Separate!” She commanded, and Dewey flew into the mirror and Shackleford against the opposite wall.

Dawn scrambled off the floor into Tara’s waiting arms.

“That was a little too close for comfort. He was getting ready to flay me.” She stomped over to the prone figure of Shackleford and kicked him in the ribs. “That’s for my sister.” Kick. “That’s for my niece.” Kick. “That’s for me.”

Giles pulled her away, only to have Anya step up and deliver her own kick, but to a lower region of his anatomy. “That’s for my store. You owe me, buster.”

“Anya!” Giles admonished, though the grin on his face gave him away.

Xander picked his way through the remains of the door, and stood over the semi-conscious figure of Dewey.

Xander hauled him up and shook him.

“Wha.. what?” Dewey slurred.

“Hiya, Dewey. Remember me?” Xander queried innocently, slamming his fist into Dewey’s face. Dewey sagged to the floor like a wet noodle. Xander knelt beside his prone body, slapping Dewey’s face.

“Damn, he’s out. Now we’ll have to carry him to the car.” Anya whined, toeing Dewey’s unconscious body.

“Where are the handcuffs?” Dawn asked, anxious, now that the danger had passed, to move on to the next phase of their plans. Anya unzipped the bag she carried, doling out pairs of handcuffs and restraints.

“We need to hurry before someone comes to investigate.” Clem advised as he stepped into the room.

“You’re kidding right? This is Sunnydale.” Anya reminded him, throwing a bemused look at the demon.

“That’s true because this one time at band camp…” Clem chuckled as he began to relate the story.

“Maybe we can save that story for another time, Clement. It’s imperative we question them about Travers and Bitty.” Giles patted Clem’s shoulder as he scrutinized the unconscious men. 

“What if they don’t know anything?” Dawn asked, as she rifled through Dewey’s pockets. “What are we going to do then?”

“Whatever we have to, Dawn. Don’t worry.” Tara knelt beside her, aping Dawn’s movements on Shackleford.

“Easier said than done.” Dawn replied, inaudibly.

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

He was insightful. He was perceptive. So why hadn’t he realized how painful being this close to Bitty was going to be, not only on Buffy, but on himself?

The stars twinkled in the night sky like diamonds in the sky. Nights like this were prime moments for a kill, yet his only thought was Bitty. What was she doing tonight? Was the nurse holding her, rocking her as they watched the night sky? Was she reading her a story?

If they were home in Sunnydale, Spike knew what they’d be doing. They would be perched on the ledge of her bedroom window, hoping Buffy didn’t catch them, as he read Bitty the story of the Princess and the Pea.

Tears welled in his eyes, and he felt his heart twist painfully.

Small arms reached around his waist, and Spike felt Buffy’s warmth seep into his back like a salve. She placed soft kisses to his back. “Thinking about Bitty?” She asked, though, it was more rhetorical than questioning. Spike nodded.

“What would you be doing right now if she was with us? Would you be reading her a story or singing her a lullaby?”

Spike turned, his crestfallen expression tugging at Buffy’s heart. Buffy could have wept at the vulnerability she saw within his azure eyes. She touched with undemanding fingers, tracing cheekbones that should be deemed illegal. It really wasn’t fair he was prettier than her. On tiptoes, she kissed him with lips soft and inviting, giving comfort while asking for nothing in return.

Spike didn’t trust that his voice wouldn’t crack. His heart was laid bare before this woman he’d pledged his life to so many years ago. Now, there was this tiny baby that bore his genes, his soul, and… he wanted nothing more than to be William for her, to sing lullabies and change nappies.

“I…” Spike began, his voice watered down by emotion. “I was thinking the Princess and the Pea. She might not appreciate my singing. Newborn ears and all.”

Buffy pressed her hands into Spike’s stomach, pulling him tighter into her embrace. She laid her head against his back. “Nice choice. She’d like that.”

“How do you know that?” He whispered. “How do you know I’ll do right by her?”

Buffy smiled as she lifted her hand to caress his face. “I’m going with my heart.” She stood on her toes to kiss his forehead. “I’m going with my soul.” She kissed his eyes closed. “I’m going with everything within me that says you’ll be a terrific father. After tomorrow, you’ll know too.” 

Spike’s eyes fluttered open as he rested his chin in Buffy’s hair. “Didn’t think it would be this hard, luv. Being here. Knowing she’s so close.”

Buffy tried not to think about it. If she let herself dwell on the fact, her child was less than a mile away, she would be out the door and at the gates, and their carefully laid out plans would be shot to hell. But she understood what Spike was feeling. They were superhuman, and for all their strength and power, their child was snatched from them. But in reality, they were simply parents whose child was missing.

“I bet she can feel us. I bet she knows we’re near.” She told him, winding her fingers in the brown curls at his nape.

Azure irises blurred with tears. “I hope so.” Spike choked out.

“I know so.” She reassured him, gently urging him back to their bed.

Spike obliged her, scooting till his back rested against the headboard. He watched, eyes hooded and lost in thought, as Buffy padded across the room. She opened the old oak bureau, half her body disappearing inside the dark depths.  Spike tamped down the trill of desire that laced through him as Buffy leaned inside, rummaging around. He saw a brief flash of pink and smiled. Bitty’s blanket.

Buffy held the cotton to her heart, smiling reflectively as she walked the short distance to the bed. Her eyes sought out his.

“It’s not Bitty, but…”

Spike shushed her with a kiss, hands settling on her tiny hips. “The sentiments there, luv. Thank you.”

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

Joanna stared bleary at the numbers displayed on the thermometer.

101.3

Joanna eased the thermometer into Catherine’s ear again, wanting to confirm the readings. When the temperature read the same, she sighed. Catherine whined in her sleep, her eyes tightly closed. Her skin was reddish and prickled with tiny beads of sweat. Joanna pulled the lapels of her robe together as the chill of the room found those places left uncovered. She sighed and tucked the blanket over Catherine’s shoulders. She stared at the blondish curls, debating what to do. It had been nearly a week since her birth, and she still wasn’t eating properly. Catherine had been fussy since Travers’ unexpected visit on Monday, but seeing as this was a normal occurrence around him, Joanna dismissed it. She couldn’t ignore it any longer. Either Catherine was allergic to the milk or there was something else ailing the child.

Joanna hoped she was being overprotective. She would never forgive herself if something happened to Catherine. Joanna was loath to ask anything of Timmons, but he was her only connection to the outside world. She knew without a shadow of a doubt, Travers would be informed within minutes of her ringing off. It couldn’t be helped, though.

Sometimes you had to deal with the devil to get what you wanted.

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

Spike resisted the urge to glance out the window again. Sunlight, vampire, bad news. He knew Buffy was fine. Buffy was smart. Buffy was stronger than four 300-pound linebackers. She wouldn’t do anything to put herself or Bitty in danger.  Who the hell was he kidding? This was Buffy Anne Summers Develin, stubborn, willful, fearless, love of his life. She would so do something if she thought she could get Bitty away.

Spike paced the length of the room, wishing to the Powers to Joyce that he had a cigarette. Something to keep his mind off his girls out there while he was stuck inside.

“Calm down. Can’t have Buffy seeing you so wound up.” That’s right, his brain kicked in. Be the strong, silent type, and everything would be alright. Oh, and stop being a wuss.

“Bugger.”

“Do you ever stay still?”

Oh, he had sunk low. Instead of vamping out, he shrieked like a girl. He took a deep breath, blew it out furiously before turning around slowly to face the woman smiling at him from the bed.

“Ever heard of knocking?” He growled.

“I could have, but watching you stomp across the floor was more entertaining.” Hallie twirled a length of hair around her finger.

“Glad I could entertain you. Now. What do you want?” Spike crossed his arms over his chest, studying the curly-haired demon in front of him.

“Oh, William, have you forgotten your manners?”

Spike’s brow quirked, indicating he had forgotten his manners some 125 years earlier.

“Oh, alright… I just came to make sure you didn’t follow Buffy. She’s fine, by the way. Anyanka figured you’d be going stir crazy right about now, and asked if I’d keep you company.” That was a lie, but Hallie doubted Spike would call California to verify.

“That’s a lie, but I’ll let it go.” Spike smirked at the shocked look on Hallie’s face, deciding this was better than wearing a hole in the floor. “Don’t bother getting huffy. Human, demon… I can tell by the way your heart’s racing. You’re here. Thanks.”

Hallie grinned. “You’re welcome.”

“Why did she choose you?” He’d been curious ever since Hallie arrived in their living room. Why had Bitty chosen this demon to be her guardian angel?

“Your daughter has great taste. What can I say?” Hallie shrugged.

“The truth would be nice. Bitty chose you for a reason.” Hallie couldn’t look him in the eye. Damn blue eyes making me all mushy.

Hallie sighed, smiling at a memory he couldn’t see. “Justice demons don’t make excuses for their actions. I’ve never apologized for anything I’ve done. I don’t believe in apologies. Saying you’re sorry is just saying a word.” She looked up, staring into his eyes, hoping he understood what she was having difficulty voicing.

“I think she chose me… so I could make amends… for what I did to you when you were William.”

“Cecily.” The name came out as half-groan, half-curse, and for the first time in many years, Halfrek felt the sting of tears.

“Surprise.” She shouted, false gaiety evident in the slump of her shoulders. She couldn’t look him in the eye. “What I did that night. What I did all those times you were ever in my company. I was wrong.”

Just had to open my big mouth.

“Cec…Halfrek… what’s done is done. I can’t really thank you, but if you hadn’t turned your back on me, I wouldn’t have Buffy. I wouldn’t have a daughter. I wouldn’t have my life. I just don’t think anything William would have had could compare.”

Shoot, this was one of those human moments when they threw their arms around each other and embraced and shed tears and did the runny nose thing. Both demons looked sickened by the thought.

“Okay, great, we got that out in the open. You know. I know. Gotta go.” And with that, she was gone.

Spike shook his head as Buffy’s scent hit him. Perfect timing, luv.

She said nothing as she closed and locked the door. Her jacket was placed over the chair and she stared into the mirror, knowing his image would not be there. Buffy watched as her hair was pulled over her shoulder. Invisible fingers massage the tight, tense muscles.

“Everything okay?”

Buffy nodded, leaning back into Spike’s chest. “Never thought I could hate a piece of ironwork so much.” Buffy told him, thinking of the wrought-iron gate surrounding the house.

Spike chuckled. “You weren’t too keen on the handcuffs at first either.” He joked. Her eyes widened in shock, but she couldn’t prevent the giggle or the blush that rose to her cheeks.

“You’re a bad, bad man.” She said, twisting around to face him.

“After four years of telling you that, you finally believe me.” He cupped her face, bringing her lips to his. “I was worried about you.”

“And I felt like the most selfish bitch in the world for leaving you.”

Spike frowned at that. “Why would you think something like that, luv?” He asked as he guided her to the bed. Buffy curled up into his lap, wrapping her arms around his neck.

“I could go there, and you couldn’t, and I didn’t think how bad it would be for you to be here in this room by yourself.” She told him brokenly.

“I’m a vampire, Buffy.”

She sat up, green eyes ablaze with anger. “Don’t. Don’t pretend you were sitting here knitting a sweater. Don’t lie to me. I know it hurt.”

And there it was, the crux of their relationship, the ease with which they read each other. When did it happen? When had she gained the insight to see through his defenses?”

“About went crazy,” he whispered, laying his head awkwardly on her shoulder. “Felt like you were leaving me again. Leaving me alone in the dark while you were in the light.”

Buffy cupped the back of Spike’s head. “That’s never going to happen again. Where I go, you’re in me, in my soul, and…I’m in yours.”

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

Hallie waited unseen in the nursery, until the man called Timmons left.

“What happened?” She asked, crossing the room to check on the baby. “I sensed something was wrong.”

Joanna sighed. “The baby is sick. She’s not eating. I had to call in the doctors.”

Hallie peered into the crib. Bitty stared back, eyes shuttered. The light that had been present a week ago was dimmed. Hallie puckered her lips, reaching out to caress Bitty’s cheek.

“That’s unfortunate since her parents are also here.” Hallie straightened. “How much time do we have?”

Joanna shrugged. “I was able to convince Mr. Travers to allow a local doctor to see to the child, but he insisted on coming tomorrow morning to take her back with him.”

Hallie marched to the window, drumming her fingers rapidly on the sill. “Okay, I need to get back to Buffy and Spike, and let them know about the baby. I’ll be back. What time is the doctor coming?”

Joanna glanced at her watch. “I’m guessing within the hour. Timmons sent one of his men to fetch him.”

Halfrek took one final glance at Bitty. “When you find out what’s wrong with her, summon me again. In the meantime, be ready to move when they arrive. Something tells me they aren’t going to want to stick around and wait for Travers.”

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

Skin, soft as silk, flowed beneath her fingertips. His skin, his touch, his breath never ceased to amaze her. Buffy lazily traced the fine hairs along Spike’s arm, relishing the quiet before the storm. They needed this reprieve.

“I hate this part of my job.” Halfrek muttered quietly as she materialized. “I need to talk to you.”

Buffy took one look at Hallie’s countenance and felt her stomach drop. “Spike.” His name was barely a whisper off her lips, but it had the effect of a shriek. Spike shot up, immediately in game face, searching the room for the threat.

“What is it?”

Halfrek grimaced. Best to say it quickly.

“The baby is sick.”

Spike tensed. “What?” He’d been expecting something else after his talk with Halfrek. Why hadn’t she told him then? Why had she waited?

“What’s wrong with her?” Buffy inquired calmly, though her heart was racing so fast she thought it would push through her ribs. Her hand reached out blindly for Spike’s, needing his strength, knowing he needed hers.

“The doctor examined her. He says the baby is allergic to the milk.”

“She wouldn’t be sick if I was nursing her.” Buffy commented softly. Spike squeezed Buffy’s hand in assurance. Although he knew Bitty could have developed this allergy had she been home in Sunnydale, the irrational father in him blamed Travers. Hated Travers for taking his daughter away from her home, from her loved ones. Hated Travers for making Spike feel impotent as a father.

Hallie blew out a long breath. She should leave. They didn’t need her here. She suspected Spike and Buffy were holding on to their anger, their anguish by a thin thread.

“The doctor put her on soy milk. She should be okay, but Travers is coming in the morning to get her. He wants his doctors in London to examine her.”

Buffy snapped out of her fugue at the mention of Travers’ name. “Like hell.” Buffy scooted off the bed, coming to stand in front of the woman. “Tell Bitty we’re coming.”

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

Wednesday

The air was cleaner here. Fresher. Spike’s enhanced sense of smell could detect none of the pollutants that floated through the California skies. If he concentrated hard enough, he thought he caught a whiff of Bitty. It was ridiculous he knew, but he would take any tiny hope he could get. Buffy was silent beside him as they trekked into the village.  He could sense her anxiety. It matched his. They needed to be smart, and though, the pull was great, they had to stay away from the house. They couldn’t allow the guards to see them, and put two and two together. He wanted to rush the place too. In fact, the demon was arguing strongly in favor of that action.

Buffy’s eyes scanned the street for any sign of trouble. Her senses were stretched out like tendrils, touching the areas behind and before her. Spike loved watching her at work. She was a goddess, Diana at the hunt.  At any moment, he expected her to bolt, but he was prepared to stop her.

“No!” Spike yelled.

Buffy glanced in his direction, her face showing her confusion.

“No, what? No. Stop. No. Cow dung. No what?” She demanded.

Spike grinned sheepishly. “Sorry, having a discussion with myself.”

Buffy’s brow quirked. “Okkkaay. Sorry, I interrupted.”

Spike chuckled softly under his breath. “Minx.”

He flexed his hand around hers and felt a familiar jolt shoot up his spine. Energy coursed between them. There was a feeling surrounding them of invincibility. He hadn’t felt that since Bitty was taken. He chalked it up to the quiet moments spent in bed, rediscovering their spark.

“Nervous?” Spike whispered as they approached the gate. The predawn chill of the morning didn’t affect Spike, yet goosebumps rose up along his arm.

“A little. What if it doesn’t work? What if Willow was wrong? She’s sick. She needs us.”

Spike grabbed her shoulders and gave her a shake. “Buffy. Breathe. Watch.” Spike reached out, his hand hovering inches from the gate, and in a moment that almost made Buffy weep, he grasped the iron gate.

“Remind me to buy Red some flowers.” Spike said, pushing the gate open. As expected, this caused alarms to go off, and a man exited the house, gun drawn. Spike wiggled his brows and bowed.

“Ladies first.”

“Thank you, honey.” Buffy said, kissing him on the cheek. Buffy held her hands up in the air, walking slowly towards the oncoming man.

“Hey, don’t shoot. We were just looking around.” Buffy waited patiently for the man to come within striking distance, when she saw the rooms on the second floor light up. Damn, she thought. We’re going to have to do this the hard way.

“Who are you?” The man barked.

“Me? I’m Joan. That’s my husband, Randy. We didn’t think anyone was here. We were just taking a walk.” A quick glance over her shoulder confirmed Spike had eased inside the gate.

“How did you get in?” The man asked, checking them out. He was told to be on the lookout for two blondes, not brunettes.

“We pushed open the gate.”

Buffy’s eyes widened in surprise. Spike with an American accent? Oh, boy, that was even deeper and made her even tinglier than his normal one.

“Walter is everything alright out there?” A voice squawked from a walkie-talkie.

Walter looked over the unassuming couple. Tourists. He’d put the fear of God in them, and get back to sleep.

“Yeah, everything’s cake here.”

There was a pause. Buffy held her breath, and surprising Spike did too, while the guy on the other end decided whether or not to come outside.

“Get them out of here, and get back inside.”

Buffy lowered her hands and smiled brightly. “Thanks, Walter. You’ve been a big help.”

Ten minutes later, and the downstairs was secure.

Didn’t even get to break a sweat. Spike mused as he stepped over the unconscious body. A look over his shoulder caught Buffy easily carrying her man over to him.

“Oh, look, honey. We’ve got a matched pair.” Buffy giggled as she dumped the man beside his partner.

Spike winked at her, and he swore his heart did a pitter-patter at hearing her quip. It seemed a lifetime ago since they’d fought side by side.

Buffy was thinking the same thing as she felt her cheeks flush. Fighting those men had been exhilarating, releasing a lot of energy that had been repressed for a number of weeks. Spike was bouncing, grinning from ear to ear. It wasn’t bloodlust, Buffy knew that. Not once during the short fight had she feared for the men. Not once had her Slayer senses tingled a warning. Her heart knew what others doubted. Spike’s will was stronger than the demon’s bloodlust.

“Buffy… Buffy...”

Buffy’s head shot up.

“Don’t go spacey on me, Pet. We’ve still got to get into the nursery.”

Buffy slapped him on the arm. “I wasn’t spacey.” She said defensively. “I was thinking how wonderful you are, and how lucky I am to have you as my husband. And I was a little turned on by seeing you in full vamp mode, okay.”

Spike’s shit eating grin made her groan. Taking the high road, knowing there wasn’t time to tell Spike to kiss her ass, Buffy pulled out the map Hallie had drawn for them. “It’s that room.” She said, pointing to the second room on the right.

Spike sobered up immediately. Bitty. Bitty. Bitty. He reached down and grabbed Buffy’s hand.

“Come on, Mommy. Let’s go get our girl.”

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

Joanna wasn’t sure what awakened her. She just felt something, a presence, a shift in the wind. Whatever it was, it brought her out of a sound sleep and over to Catherine’s crib. The baby was asleep. Finally. Joanna rubbed her hands over her arms, warding off the chill of the morning. She smiled as she bent to kiss Catherine’s head, noting the still present warmth of her skin.

Joanna straightened and sighed. There was no use in returning to bed. She wouldn’t have been able to go back to sleep anyway. She had far too much on her mind. Travers’ visit in the morning was still weighing on her mind.

“Bastard.” She whispered hotly. Joanna forced the odious man from her thoughts and went to the window. The stillness of the night usually calmed her nerves. She leaned her head against the windowpane, shivering from the coolness of it.

“Why can’t you take her away from here?” She asked, hoping Halfrek would hear her.

“We will.” Came a voice from the doorway. Joanna gasped, immediately concerned for Catherine’s safety. She never made it to the crib, as a hand grasped her wrist and pulled her away.

“Don’t touch her.” The man growled. Joanna nodded, her eyes wide with fear. She relaxed when she saw a pair of blue eyes staring back at her, and realized they were the same blue as her charge.

“She’s safe. I wouldn’t hurt her.” Joanna stated, but he, Catherine’s father, wasn’t paying her any attention. All his attention was on the tiny woman who was staring in awe at the crib.

“Spike…” Buffy sighed.

Spike released Joanna’s wrist and joined Buffy by Bitty’s bedside. He was afraid to look into the crib. Afraid she wouldn’t be there; but she was, and she was staring at them. Could she see how much they loved her? Did she know how long they’d waited to see her?

Buffy ran her fingers gently over Bitty’s cheek, smiling through the tears.

“Hi, Bitty, it’s Mommy and Daddy.” She leaned into the crib, pulling the blanket off Bitty. Her hands trembled as she slid them under her tiny body. Buffy sniffled as she brought Bitty up to her chest, shielding her against the cold.

Spike felt a tear slide down his face, but he did nothing to wipe at it. Blue-eyed gaze of his daughter spellbound him. She had his eyes. This wasn’t supposed to be his life or his right. When Dru sired him, all his human dreams died. Until he was floored by a sixteen year old Slayer. He was never supposed to have a wife, unless it was another demon. He wasn’t supposed to have a child, unless he sired a minion. Yet, he had both.

“Thank you.” He whispered softly.

“Thank you.” Buffy told him, leaning into his chest. “Spike…Look what we made.”

Spike peered into eyes identical to his. “She’s so tiny.”

“That she is.” Buffy murmured, running her fingers along Bitty’s cheek. “And she’s hungry.” She commented with a smile as Bitty began to suckle her finger.

“Do you have a…” Buffy gasped as she felt an ache in her breast.

“What’s wrong?” After giving Buffy and the baby a quick visual examination, Spike scanned the room. If there was someone stupid enough to be hiding in wait for them. They picked the wrong vampire to mess with this night. 

Buffy pulled Bitty back and stared in wonderment at the wet spot on her shirt. “I’m… my…” She couldn’t say, suddenly shy. It wasn’t as if Spike hadn’t seen her naked, but Buffy was sure her milk had dried up. Instead of answering him, she reached up and unbuttoned her shirt. She guided her breast to the yearning mouth of their daughter. Bitty latched on, a soft whoosh of air escaping through her nose.

“I guess I’m doing this right.” Buffy said, amused and awed by the sight of her daughter taking nourishment from her bosom.

If he’d had breath, they would have taken it away. There were amazing together.

“Spike, say something.” In contrast to the maelstrom of energy that had coursed through her body since learning of her pregnancy, Buffy was calm, serene, complete.

“You’re beautiful.” He said, the wonder in his voice bringing tears to her eyes. “Absolutely beautiful.” Spike cupped Buffy’s chin, kissing her lightly on the lips, before gazing down at his daughter. He was afraid to touch her, not wanting to disturb her, but he had to. Had to reassure himself this wasn’t some fantasy of his, but the actual truth. He pressed his lips to her curly blonde hair.

“My girls…” He murmured.

“Yes, we are.” Buffy murmured. This was heaven. Right here. Right now. “I can’t believe she’s finally with us.”

“Never gonna let her go, Pet. Never.”

Bitty’s suckling slowed and her eyes drifted close. Buffy was loathed to move her and disturb the serenity of this moment. In truth, she was loathed to lose the feel of her daughter’s lips against her breast.  There were not words to describe what this meant to her.

“You can breast feed her again and again. To your heart’s content.” Spike told her.

“Just don’t want to let her go.” Buffy admitted, as she eased Bitty away from her breast. Bitty’s lips scrunched up in dismay, but Spike pressed a pacifier to her lips and she calmed.

“Take her, Spike.”

His eyes bulged, panicked, as Buffy placed Bitty into his arms. She looked even tinier against the black leather of his duster. “Buffy?”

“She’s fine. You’re her father. You won’t drop her.” Buffy told him as she put her clothes to right. “Look at her, Spike. She knows she’s safe.”

Spike glanced at his daughter. Her tiny fist was clenched in his shirt, holding him tightly. “Never gonna let you go either.” He whispered.

Buffy had to close her eyes to stop the tears that threatened to flow. They looked so beautiful together, so perfect. It was all too much and not enough at the same time.

“We did good, didn’t we?” Buffy remarked as she laid her head on Spike’s shoulder. Her fingers twisted in the soft brown curls at the nape of his neck, marveling at the similarity to their daughter’s. She sniffed as she fought back tears.

Joanna eased towards the door, intent on leaving the three of them alone. She paused as she heard voices on the other side. Cracking the door, slightly, she strained to hear the conversation outside. She thought she heard baby, and that could only mean Catherine.

“Move!” Spike pulled Joanna away from the door. She turned, stumbling away when his yellow eyes swerved in her direction.

“How many?” Buffy asked, pulling the blanket Dawn had given Spike out of her knapsack.

Spike closed his eyes, concentrating fully on the men in the hallway. One, two, three…ah, four.

“Four, Pet. One sounds a bit out of shape.” Spike closed the door, pushing on it softly. The click of the lock reverberated inside the room.

Joanna stood off to the side, fretting. “You can’t get past them, not with the baby. She’s been sick.” They had no reason to trust her. She had assisted in the baby’s kidnapping, but she’d never allow anyone, even them, to put the baby in danger.

“We know, but we’re leaving. We’ll take care of her. Not Travers.” Buffy restated, tucking the blanket around Bitty. “Are you coming with us?”

Joanna reviewed her options.  Stay and Travers would likely kill her . Go and there was a chance…a chance to live. There was only one option. Her continued existence lay with them.

“I need to change and get a bag prepared for…” Catherine, but she wasn’t Catherine, Joanna reminded herself.

“What’s her name?” She whispered, wincing as she realized the stupidity of the question. They were in danger, and she was concerned about a name. But Catherine was Travers’ name for the baby, and Joanna sincerely doubted he consulted Buffy and Spike on it.

Buffy brushed a kiss across Bitty’s head, smiling as she looked up. “Her name is Emma. Emma Joyce Summers-Develin. She’s named after her grandmothers.”

“That’s a beautiful name.” Joanna smiled as Spike and Buffy stared with unabashed pride at their child. Even though, she was immensely relieved that Cath…Emma was returned to her parents, she couldn’t help feeling as if she’d lost a child. She’d grown to love the little girl in the week she’d cared for her, and now… Well, it wasn’t time to think about her biological clock ticking away. She’d promised Hallie she would help return Emma to Buffy and Spike, and she was going to do exactly that.

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

It was the lack of sound that alerted Timmons to an apparent problem. The men on the ground level had a routine. Walter would sneak inside at four o’clock to hit the loo. It was the only time he could go in peace and not be interrupted. So when the click of the back door opening didn’t occur, Timmons was up immediately, his gun drawn. A quick search proved futile. There was no sign of his men. A decision had to be made. To call Travers or not? Calling Travers would take valuable time away from capturing the intruders. He’d have to wait. If the baby were snatched while he was on the phone, Travers would have his balls for dinner.

He took up the point position with two men behind him, and another guarding the stairs. If the intruders hoped to leave the house, they’d have to make it past them.

One room at a time, they opened the door, quickly scanning the interior before moving on. Travers had assured Timmons the house was impenetrable, yet here he and his men were facing an unknown threat.

The nursery was just up ahead, and beyond that three more rooms. If the nursery was clear, then Timmons could breathe a sigh of relief. Get the baby out and secure, then he could deal with the riff raff.

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

Joanna jumped as they heard the adjacent room’s door open and close with a bam. These were either the most inept kidnappers or someone was getting a little too cocky.

Spike lifted Bitty up till they were face to face. “Okay, Bitty, Mommy and Daddy have to go beat up the bad guys; but don’t worry, the nice lady is going to take really good care of you.” The words were meant to be cutesy, but Joanna heard the underlying command.

Take care of my baby or else.

Buffy snickered.

 

“What?” Spike asked, affecting a tone of innocence but failing miserably. “You slayed while pregnant, Pet. I’m sure she understands that Mommy and Daddy have a tendency to get into scuffles.”

“I’m sure she does, Spike, but she’s a week old. Can’t we keep her in the dark for just a bit longer?” Buffy pulled the pink skullcap over the blonde curls till only dusty blonde eyebrows were visible.

“I suppose so.” Spike answered chagrined. Joanna watched in amazement as these two warriors, and that was the only way to describe them, prepared for battle. All the while, caring for their child with the gentlest of touches.

“Okay, she’s all set, Joanna.” Buffy reluctantly handed Bitty over to Joanna. She didn’t want to entrust Bitty to anyone but herself and Spike, but necessity called for her to trust Joanna.

“I’ll take good care of her.” Joanna reassured her, moving to place Bitty into her car seat.

“I know you will. I just…” Buffy shrugged as if to tell them to ignore her, Spike was there, and he lifted her chin, looking deeply into her eyes.

“It’ll only be,” Spike paused, calculating how long it would take for them to take out four humans, “for five minutes, ten max, then you can take her back.”

The pouty lip came out. “Have I told you I love you?”

“Several times today, but it doesn’t hurt a bloke to hear it, especially when he’s going into battle.” He kissed her quickly before motioning Joanna away from the door.

Buffy stood opposite him, ready to grab whatever came through the door first.

One. Two. Three. Spike yanked the door open, pulling an unsuspecting man through the door. Buffy planted a foot to his midsection as he struggled to sit up. Joanna watched the action through wide eyes, not daring to move from the corner. She saw a blur of black fly out the door and into the hallway.

Timmons quickly reassessed the situation. Close quarters would not allow him to get off a shot without putting the child at risk. He holstered his gun, and pulled out his taser. He’d take care of the man first. His men could handle the woman.

Spike winced as the first jolt went through him.  He staggered, spinning around to confront the man who’d attacked him. He snarled at him, giving Timmons an impressive view of his elongated incisors. Kudos to Timmons for not flinching.

“Someone cheated you, mate. That’s nothing more than a tickle.” He wouldn’t admit it, but the Initiative’s tasers had been stronger. Never would admit their toys had been bigger and badder. That would just make him ill.

So these were the parents, Timmons surmised. The super couple Travers had warned him about. Well, wouldn’t this be a feather in his cap, if he were the one to capture them.

“Are you supposed to be the big bad wolf?” Timmons spat, circling around, placing himself between Buffy and his men.

Spike rolled his eyes. Was that supposed to be a joke, and did this idiot really think he was doing anything but pissing him off by shocking him with that taser? Or maybe, he thought he was putting Buffy at a disadvantage? One look at his wife showed the trio that was ineffectually swatting at her far from bothered her. They were getting their licks in, but that was due to Buffy’s divided attention.

“Pay attention, luv. I don’t plan on patching you up or listening to you bitch about your torn jacket.”

Buffy stopped long enough to glare at him before executing a round-off kick/upper cut combo that took out two-thirds of her attacker.

“You’re the one with the burn holes in his coat, so don’t.” Punch. “Tell.” Punch. “Me to be careful.” Punch.

As if to add insult to injury, his opponent faked him to the left and delivered two jolts to Spike’s stomach.

“Oh, that’s it. This is not electrocute Spike day!” Spike yanked hard on Timmons’ arm, dislocating his shoulder. The taser fell to the floor as Timmons howled in pain. Spike raised his fist and drove it into Timmons’ face, knocking the man unconscious. Spike stood over him, breathing heavily.

Buffy approached him, her hand sliding inside to check for any injuries. Her hands flitted across his stomach, eliciting a hiss from Spike that had absolutely nothing to do with the singes dotting his rippled abdomen.  “Ready to go?” She asked, her fingers playfully tugging at his shirt.

Spike nodded his head vigorously. “Yeah. For some reason, this visit to Scotland wasn’t as much fun as the last time.”

Buffy patted his chest. “Maybe not as much fun, but the souvenir we’re taking home makes it all worth it.”

Spike grinned like a little kid. “She makes everything worthwhile, Pet.”

“Yeah, she does.” Buffy agreed, choked up. There was tremendous joy, pride, disbelief, honor tied into those three words. But, her mind prompted, Travers is still a threat. That unpleasant thought instantly sobered Buffy.

“What are we going to do Spike?” Buffy stopped outside the door to the nursery, her hand reaching out to their child. “We can’t wait around here till the doctors come, but I… I don’t want her to get worse. We’re not even sure what’s wrong with her. It could be something serious.” Please don’t let it be anything serious.  

Spike placed his hand over Buffy’s. “I know that’s a possibility, but staying here is not an option. Travers would sniff us out straight away. I’m beginning to wonder if going to Rupert’s place is even a great idea. Travers isn’t stupid, as much as I’d like to peg him as that. He’s going to suss out where we’ve gone.”

Buffy smiled. “Okay then, where do we go? We can’t stay in London. Too close to the Council, and I’m not sure if they have some way of tracking me or not. Can’t go to Bath because it would be the first place Travers would search for us. Where can we go where Emma will be safe? Tell me that?” Buffy snapped. She was frustrated and worried, and all she wanted to do was wrap her arms around Emma and never let go.

Spike didn’t take Buffy’s tone to heart. Emma was his, too. “We need time and distance from the Council, Travers.”

“But where? And can we get there before the sun gives you a fatal tan?”

Spike lifted Buffy’s chin so he could look her in the eye. “For Emma, I’d moved to LA and live with the Poof, so never you mind about me and the sun.”

Buffy giggled, tension gone in the beat of a heart. They’d figure something out. They always do. It was a relief to realize she didn’t have to make the decisions alone. She didn’t have to shoulder the burden by herself. God, she loved being married. Correction, she loved being married to this man.