[A/N: This is working toward an ending and after that I’ll see about maybe – and that’s a huge maybe – doing more in this universe. I can’t promise anything, because I’ve been really feeling the itch to finish some of my original fictions. But I’d rather not close a door when I can keep it open just a tad. Onward then, to the story. I realize there’s been a slight break with everything, but that’s because my health decided to trip me up, and I spent 5 days in hospital as a consequence. Title and quotes are as attributed, and disclaimers once again prove that I own nothing.]

Previously: Riley had organized back-up, which has arrived via helicopter; Buffy is beginning to get back on her feet and her strength is returning; the witches have been using Willow as a conduit, channeling the Key’s energy through her to ward the whole house. Travers and Nicholson are on their way to the house. This picks up following the last, and like the last couple of installments, this one will see-saw back and forth on the timeline.

Book Three

Chapter Thirty An equal failing

We have friends but they have not been made by silence or pussyfooting.
If we have enemies, we do not placate them.
William H Grimes, A Newspaper’s Philosophy

You may either win your peace or buy it: win it, by resistance to evil;
buy it, by compromise with evil.
John Ruskin, The Two Paths, Lecture 5

It is not enough to do good; one must do it the right way.
John, Viscount Morley, On Compromise

I trust you because I need you.
Mason Cooley, City Aphorisms, Thirteenth Selection

I do not trust them out of my sight, or in it.
Kenneth Kolb and Nathan Juran, The 7th Voyage of Sinbad

It is an equal failing to trust everybody, and to trust nobody.
18th century English proverb



“Are you really sure you want to do that?” Buffy looked at Spike, both babies cradled in her arms.

He raked a hand through his hair, drawing it down over his face. Out of nowhere a wave of fatigue crested through him and right before her eyes, Spike looked tired. More tired than Buffy had ever seen him.

“Spike?”

“Yeah?” He lifted his head, staring at her. “You look a picture, kitten.”

She blushed, lowering her eyes his intense gaze. His soft voice brought her attention back to him. “An’ no, ‘m not sure this is a good idea. But I need to keep you safe. All of you.”

They stared at each other for a few minutes, communicating without words. Buffy looked down at the babies, then back up at Spike. “Maybe you should go see what’s happening.”

“You sure?”

“I am. We’ll be fine.” She’d barely finished gesturing toward the door wen he was through it.

Buffy brushed a kiss on each little forehead, whispering softly, “Your daddy is so transparent.”


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


Lawson watched as the Council operatives confronted the remaining Initiative officers, keeping the Brackens and vampires with him out of sight, in the shadows. When he realized who the group leader was, a low laugh emerged from his throat.

The sound carried to the rest of his companions, who reacted similarly when his whispered identification filtered down.

“So that’s Finn?” Charlie, one of the Brackens and an off-duty cop, asked derisively. “Doesn’t look all that impressive.”

“He’s not.” Sam pointed left and right, motioning the vampires forward. “Seems they need a hand.”

With the others behind him, Lawson ghosted forward, gesturing silently to the Council operatives. Lawson stepped directly behind Finn, breathing heavily at his neck. When Finn resisted a second time, Lawson smiled, adding his own opinion on the matter of surrender. “Should have listened to him.”

Before he was finished speaking, the vampires had all moved, wrenching away the soldiers’ weapons, and knocked the four men face down in the dirt.

Sam shared a grin with the Operative, as he ground out, “Odds just changed, yank.”

Finn spluttered something into the grass and Lawson placed his foot on the back of Finn’s neck, leaning in slightly. “Don’t really see how you’re gonna get out of this mess, soldier boy.”

There were nasty chuckles from the others and corresponding grins on their faces. Lawson leaned in a bit, lowering his voice. “Just wait until Spike sees this.”

“Our orders are to disarm and capture.” The Englishman nodded his head in the direction of the prone Americans.

Sam glanced once in his direction, then back down at Finn. “Yeah, well, I’ve got my own orders. And they don’t include turning over this particular human.” He crouched down, taking the zip cord from Finn’s pockets and securing his hands. “The rest of them you can have. Don’t care what you do with them.”

The Englishman started to argue. “I can’t let you do that.”

The distinct sound of slamming car doors reached their ears, and both males turned to see who was bold enough to interrupt.

“Stand down, gentlemen.” Travers’s tone of voice brooked no dispute from his men and they relaxed, lowering their weapons. “What is the situation?”

“We’ve neutralized the ground forces, sir. The rooftop situation is unknown.”

“Very good.” The elderly man assessed the tableau in front of him. Six vampires stood over the prone Initiative officers, facing off against his wet-works team. Quickly calculating the possible outcome, Travers made a decision. “I assume you are working with William.”

Lawson nodded once, waiting to see what this new Englishman had to offer.

Noting the position of one of the officers and the vampire standing with his foot firmly planted on his neck, he asked, “Is that Finn?”

“It is.”

Travers nodded thoughtfully, contemplating the state of affairs. He’d heard the vampire’s comments and while he didn’t actually condone the idea of turning any human over to the tender mercies of a group of vampires, Travers couldn’t honestly begrudge William his pound of flesh. The man had engineered this entire mess. He’d been asked, in good faith, for assistance, and instead had concocted a plan to kidnap two infants and possibly engineer the demise of their father.

And while he didn’t for one moment believe that keeping a vampire happy and relatively alive were good things, Travers couldn’t dismiss the possibilities with this union between Miss Summers and the vampire. There were, after all, numerous prophesies that could be fulfilled by them and the children. Only time would reveal all.

Travers knew if he didn’t placate the vampire, both of his experienced Slayers might revolt, leaving him with a petulant, spoiled brat who should never have been called because she was very nearly too old.

Making a snap decision, Travers waved off his men. “We’ll take the others.”

He didn’t even flinch when Lawson roughly hauled Finn to his feet.

Travers merely watched them dissolve into the shadows at the back of the yard.

“Take the rest into custody.”


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



Kennedy hadn’t followed them up the stairs. Instead she’d stayed in the kitchen, pissed and angry because Faith had punched her and then, when Giles had called her attention, she’d pushed past her and basically dismissed her completely.

She wasn’t used to that kind of treatment. She was way more important than the other Slayers gave her credit.

Born into a world of privilege, Kennedy was used to traveling first class, the kowtowing of servants and sycophants but the last four days had been a very rude awakening.

The Council had identified her as a Potential on her fourteenth birthday, when she’d gotten an inexplicable jolt of something. It had made her stronger, faster, and less prone to injury. The Council liaison had shown up within days of her birthday, armed with information and answers for every single one of her father’s questions. What they hadn’t expected was the depth of information and the sheer impossibility of what being a Potential meant.

But in typical fashion, her father had gotten all the information and promptly enrolled his only pampered princess in martial arts training, weapons training, and engaged tutors approved by the Council to instruct her in all things demonic. Kennedy was trained, and trained more, and, if her father had to have a daughter destined to fight the forces of darkness, then by God, he was going to have a daughter prepared for that eventuality.

So Kennedy had been groomed to become a Slayer, like she’d been groomed to become a debutante. Endless hours of sparring, swordsmanship, hand-to-hand, and any and all disciplines she’d need to be the best Slayer ever. She’d been lauded, praised, and preened mightily under the constant supervision.

She was ready.

Kennedy knew she was going to be a Slayer. It was, after all, her god-given destiny.

What she hadn’t ever been told, what the Council had kept from both her and her parents was the awful truth. She might be called as a Slayer, but she wasn’t ever going to be The Slayer.

No. That title belonged to one girl and one girl only.

The first time she’d heard the whisperings had been just over a month ago. Kennedy had been on her way to small arms training – short swords and daggers – when she’d overheard a whispered conversation between two Watchers. She never caught all of their conversation, but what she did hear had her reeling. The Slayer had been resurrected by a witch and was now back among the living.

The Slayer.

When had a Slayer died?

And why hadn’t she been Called?

Had some other girl been Called? What had happened?

After two intense weeks of snooping and digging through the archives that she’d never previously paid attention to, Kennedy found what she was looking for. And the information had her reeling.

There wasn’t just one other Slayer. There were two.

And they both had seriously long entries in the archives.

Buffy Summers and Faith Lehane.

Kennedy hated both of them before she’d ever laid eyes on either of them. That emotion didn’t dissolve upon their first meeting.

Kennedy had been over the moon and celebrating wildly when she finally felt the tingles indicating she’d been Called. She was thrilled.

The excitement had only increased when Mr. Travers, the head of the Council had informed her there was emergency on the active Hellmouth and they were going immediately to California. Finally she was going to meet the other Slayer.

Summers, the first, wasn’t what she expected. She was shacked up with a vampire and heavily pregnant. It had disgusted Kennedy, turned her stomach and made her want to heave. That she had to play second fiddle to a disgraced Slayer who didn’t bother slaying the vampires but instead . . . it left her with such a bad taste in her mouth, she wanted to vomit.

And if that wasn’t bad enough, Faith Lehane wasn’t dead after all.

Faith Lehane was supposed to be dead.

Instead, both of the elder Slayers were still alive, and still ready to kick ass and take names. Buffy Summers didn’t look like much. For one thing she was short. Really short. And if she wasn’t bulging with a huge belly, Kennedy bet she wouldn’t be more than a hundred pounds soaking wet. There was no way she could fight demons. Or, as rumor had it, defeat a Hell-God. Kennedy didn’t believe that one for an instant.

Faith, though, had given Kennedy pause. Not only because she wasn’t supposed to be breathing, but because there was a dangerously deadly difference about the darker Slayer that Kennedy couldn’t deny. She was trash, and that was evident by the way she dressed and talked, but there was a wildness in her eyes that Kennedy didn’t trust.

Lehane and Summers.

Kennedy wasn’t happy that she had to compete with anyone else. She was finally supposed to be the One. The Only. The Chosen One. The Slayer.

Except she wasn’t.

She wasn’t ever going to be The Chosen One.

She was one of three. And the bottom one at that.

Summers had done things – destroyed the Scourge of Europe, killed Angelus and Darla, two of the deadliest vampires ever sired; averted and prevented more than her fair share of apocalypses, and defeated a Hell-God – that Kennedy might not ever get to do. Buffy Summers was one of the most successful Slayers ever. And the fact she’d been called at fourteen and survived nearly eight years? That alone merited an entry into the archives.

There wasn’t as long an entry for Lehane, but what was there was enough to make anyone take a second look. She’d allied with the forces of darkness, then spent nearly a year in a coma. Once awake, she’d taken responsibility for the murder of the Deputy Mayor of Sunnydale, and spent almost two years in prison. Upon her escape she’d rejoined Buffy Summers on the Hellmouth and going by the newest notes, was fighting alongside the other Slayer.

It sucked.

Kennedy was supposed to be The One.

Finding out she wasn’t was a blow her ego had never expected.

Getting punched in the face by Faith hadn’t done her ego any favors either.

Kennedy didn’t even want to be here with these losers.

Which explained why she hesitated going after Faith and the others when they raced up the stairs. Her ego didn’t get any other stroking when Travers opened the door and swept past her like she wasn’t even there.

Kennedy was seriously pissed.


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



As he passed through the hallway, Spike could hear the sounds from the roof. Their bedroom had been somewhat isolated, being on the side of the house away from the fighting, but out in the hallway it was much clearer.

He’d planned on heading down to the first floor to see what was going on there, but changed his mind. Buffy’s old room had the best roof access, so he headed there. Stepping out onto the lower roof, Spike encountered two of Jenner’s vampires guarding the area.

“Boys.” He raised a brow, questioning their presence.

“Boss said not to let anyone we don’t recognize through.”

Spike considered that for a moment. “Good plan, that.”

He vaulted onto the upper level. “Keep it up.”


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



Her heart was pounding, adrenaline rushing through her system as her feet pounded up the stairs. Faith didn’t hesitate, didn’t bother to waste time checking on Buffy or Spike, she just raced through the hallway and straight to Buffy’s old bedroom, the one Dawn was now using. Nor did she slow down, diving feet first through the window. She almost over-shot the roof landing, managing at the last moment to stop her forward motion, twisting her body to land on the edge. Without so much as a backward glance, Faith vaulted over the upper roof, landing in a crouch next to Oz.

And then there was no time to think, as she was thrust into the middle of hand-to-hand fighting, trying to keep the soldiers from getting into the house. She barely registered the arrival of Jenner’s vampires, though when Paulie got tangled up in her fight, she snarled at him and pushed him toward the lower roof.

Faith had just managed to disarm one of the soldiers, and was about to drop him over the side when she was grabbed from behind.

The muzzle of a gun was pressed to her temple, the soldier’s other hand wrapped around of a fistful of her hair, pulling on it hard.

“Hey, asshole, ease up.”

“Shut up.”

Gun held to her head, he ordered the others, “Stand down.”

Giles eased his crossbow down to his waist though it was still aimed directly at the soldier, while Xander and Connor held up their hands and Oz shifted on his feet. Faith couldn’t see Jenner, Xander’s broad body between them.

He pulled harder on her hair, bringing her closer, shielding himself behind her. Tears sprung to her eyes, as he twisted his fist again. Jenner’s low growl resounded in the darkness and Faith blinked rapidly, fighting the tears. His growl made her smile because she knew he was losing patience and warning the others he was going to move soon, with our without their assistance. She could see Xander’s shoulders tense, then he eased to his right, giving her a straight look at Jenner’s face.

Their looks gave nothing away. Nothing to anyone who didn’t know them and Faith braced herself for the distraction she knew had to be coming. One of them would move, or do something, and then she’d be in a better position to get out of this situation. There were no doubts about that. And seconds later, Faith wasn’t disappointed.

Oz started to drop to his haunches.

“Don’t anyone move!” His voice was right at her ear and she could smell the stench of his fear. This guy is so over his head . . .

“You’re outnumbered.” Giles raised the bow, aiming it clearly at the soldier’s throat.

“She’ll be dead before you can shoot.” He pulled her closer, until there was almost no space between them and Faith was up on her toes, struggling to maintain her balance.

“She dies, you die.” Faith had never heard that particular tone in Giles’ voice ever before. It did not bode well for the soldier holding her hostage. “We have reached a stalemate. It is your choice how this progresses.”


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



“Buffy?” When the Slayer didn’t respond, Anya tried again. “Buffy?”

Finally, after the third time Anya had called her name, the new mother looked up from her perusal of the twins. “What?”

“It looks like all the soldiers on the ground have been – it looks like our guys have them.” Anya flipped aside the curtain, peering out the closed window. “I can’t really tell for sure from this angle.”

“Oh. That’s good.” Buffy struggled with the babies for a moment. “Anya, come help me.”

“Sure.” Suiting action to words, the former demon lifted the pink bundle easily. ‘Do you think I could convince Rupert to let me have one of these?”

Buffy looked at her strangely for a moment, watching while Anya cooed at her daughter. “Um. Could we not talk about you and Giles having sex?”

“Oh, c’mon, Buffy. He’s not really your father and you do know he and I have sex. Often.”

Buffy groaned. “Yes. I know. I just don’t want to know that I know. Can’t I just swim in the river for a little longer?”

Anya huffed out a sigh, then placed the baby down in the crib. “I suppose you’ll stay in denial until we reproduce. After all, he’s not getting any younger and I’m at prime childbearing age, as you should know.”

Shaking her head and trying to control her laughter, Buffy put the other baby down. “Anya, can we table this discussion until after the current crisis?”

“Oh! Sure thing.” Anya shrugged, completely fine with the change of topic. She looked up to see Buffy opening the window. “See? It looks like everything’s under control.”

And from the safety of the bedroom, with only a view of the backyard, it certainly did look like everything was under control. Six men, clad in black were prone on the grass, four armed guards standing over them with three other men standing off to the side near the back gate. The three looked somewhat familiar, but Buffy couldn’t be entirely sure in the darkness.

“I think that’s Rogan.” Anya’s finger pointed at one of the men and Buffy realized she was right.

“It’s him.” Her hold on the window sill eased a bit and Buffy stepped back from the window. “The glowy bit is very pretty.”

“That’s Dawn’s energy.” The former demon’s expression was pragmatic. “It is very pretty.”

Buffy’s face turned grim. “I need to see what’s going on up on the roof.”

She was halfway to the door before Anya caught up with her. “Are you sure that’s a smart thing to do? Spike won’t be happy if you put yourself in danger.”

The blond shook off the other girl’s hold. “Anya, I have to check. I have to know what’s going on.”

Anya stared at the door as it closed behind Buffy. She threw up her hands in exasperation, remarking to the air, “She’s just as bad as Spike.”


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


Travers, with Nicholson trailing right behind him, swept past Kennedy into the hallway. Both men could feel the energy emanating from the living room without needing the visual evidence of the same. Neither man headed in that direction.

Instead, Travers ascended the stairs, intent on finding either Buffy Summers or a way onto the roof. At the top of the stairs, he stepped into another hallway and came face-to-face with his elder Slayer.

“Good evening, Miss Summers. Should I offer congratulations instead of wondering why you are up and about?”

Buffy stared at him for a moment, confusion marring her features. “Why are you here?”

“We are here, Miss Summers, to offer what little assistance we can.” Travers indicated his companion. “Nicholson is a fair hand, if you’ve got weapons to spare.”

She bristled visibly. “Why should I trust you?”

Travers sighed. “I had hoped we were beyond this point.” He raised his hand in placation. “We mean no harm to you and yours. I’ve given my word, Miss Summers, and I’ve no intention of withdrawing my support now. The surgeon is waiting in the car. Once this matter is concluded, we’ll see to your vampire.”

She eyed him for another moment, then relaxed. “I think he’s up on the roof.” Buffy looked upward. “I think there’s a whole lot of reindeer up there.”

“Reindeer?” Travers was rightfully confused.

Buffy shook her head, realizing neither of the men would get her bad pun. “Never mind.”

She motioned them toward her old bedroom, urging, “This is the best way to the roof.”

“Should you be up and about?” For the first time in her presence, Nicholson spoke. “You look a bit rough.”

Her smile was as wobbly as her legs, though Buffy didn’t let on about the latter. “I am – “ shrugging tiredly, “the Slayer.”

Buffy said it resolutely, as if that explained everything. When Nicholson stared to respond, he realized it did. She is the Slayer.

He watched her slide easily through the already open window. Just given birth to twins and she’s ready to do what she must. Remarkable girl.

No, she’s not a mere girl. She’s a woman. One hell of a woman.





My thanks to all of you still with me on this and for your kind words and well-wishes on my poor health. Thank you, thank you!