[A/N: I thought, while I had a house guest, that I’d be so busy, I wouldn’t get any writing done at all. And fate, in the form of irony decided I was a dope and reared its lovely head at me. So instead of me being all tied up with sightseeing and bringing a wonderful friend around New York City, she was busier than hell and couldn’t take any time at all to sightsee. Which translated to real life, meant I got some writing done. And hey, you’re all the beneficiaries of this irony. This story is nearing a close and then I’m going to concentrate on some of the other unfinished things I have hanging around. Because I really want to finish them, so that there’s nothing a reader can look at and say, ‘hey, how come that biotch Niamh didn’t finish this story?’ Yeah. Anyway, I’m working on things. Title and quotes are as attributed and I still don’t own a damn thing. Except maybe my smile, which is so rare you could classify it as an anomaly.]

Previously: Riley Finn led the Initiative soldiers on an assault of Buffy’s house, right after she’d given birth to twins. Travers and the Council have come to the aid of the new Scoobies, and have agreed to remove Spike’s chip. However, Finn made sure to have an ace up his sleeve. . . This picks up shortly after the last installment and jumps around a bit time-wise.

Book Three

Chapter Thirty-One. Intemperate in Your Blood

Anger is short-lived madness.
Horace

Swift as a shadow, short as any dream,
Brief as the lightning in the collied night,
That in a spleen unfolds both heaven and earth,
And, ere a man hath power to say “Behold!”
The jaws of darkness do devour it up.
So quick bright things come to confusion.
A Midsummer Night’s Dream, act i, scene i

The flash and outbreak of a fiery mind,
A savageness in unreclaimed blood.
Hamlet. Act ii, scene i

In rage deaf as the sea, hasty as fire.
King Richard II. Act I, scene i

You seem to me as Dian in her orb,
As chaste as is the bud ere it be blown;
But you are more intemperate in your blood
Than Venus, or those pampered animals
That rage in savage sensuality.
Much Ado About Nothing, act iv, scene i


Spike appeared at the top of the roof as Faith signaled Jenner that she was going to make her move. Using the other vampire’s arrival as a distraction, Faith swung her hand down, grabbing the soldier’s genitals in a tight grip and squeezing hard. Jenner barreled forward, knocking Xander out of the way, intent on grabbing the gun.

The soldier shrieked in pain, loosening his grip on Faith’s hair. His finger squeezed reflexively, but Jenner had his arm, pushing the muzzle away from Faith’s head.

Bullets spat out, whizzing through the air. Oz bellowed, “Down!”

Xander didn’t react quickly enough and was tackled from behind by Spike, who covered the stunned human, shielding him from further injury.

With Jenner exerting pressure on the soldier’s upper body and Faith maintaining her death-grip on his genitals, the soldier had no way to escape their hold. Jenner slipped into game face, roaring and snapping his jaws. He was shielding the humans as best he could, blocking the bullets that were spraying recklessly into the air. Faith yelled for someone to grab the gun. Connor surged up from his prone position, coming up behind the trio, pinning the soldier between them. The gun was still spewing bullets, though now it was pointed skyward. Wesley lurched forward, reaching around Jenner’s shoulders and wrestling the gun away.

The sound of popping bones was barely discernable over Jenner’s angry growling. The soldier collapsed, his upper arm broken, falling backwards and landing awkwardly atop Connor.

Utter silence descended, broken only by hoarse panting. Giles raised his head from the roof tiles, peering around cautiously. “Faith? Connor?”

A low pitched feminine groan answered him, followed by a somewhat credible growl from Connor. “Get this asshole off me.”

Spike rolled away from Xander, grumbling and grimacing as he wiped blood away from his nose. Xander sat up, brushing tar and grit from his hands and arms, wincing at all the scrapes. He paused, finding a hole in the sleeve of his tee-shirt. He stared at it for a few moments, stuck his finger through it and blanched. “That could’ve hurt.”

He looked around, checking to see if anyone had been hit by the bullet. “Everyone okay?”

“Just the question I was going to ask.” Buffy stood balanced on the roof, peering down at them. “Anyone hurt?”

It was clear that some of them were more battered than others, but at first glance, nothing seemed serious. Oz stretched, then leaned forward to help Xander to his feet. Noting the bullet hole, the werewolf remarked almost idly, “Close call.”

“It’s a good thing you’re so tall.” Wesley unloaded the semi-automatic, discharging the magazine deftly. “Any shorter and a couple of those might have caught you between the eyes.”

Xander gulped visibly. “Spike saved my life.”

Buffy looked up from where she was kneeling beside her vampire, catching the disbelief on Xander’s face.

Just because he didn’t believe it the first time, he repeated himself. “Spike saved my life.”

“Don’t let it go to your head. Doesn’t mean we’re picking out china.” Spike ignored the look Buffy shot him. “Jus’ didn’t want to explain to anyone why you didn’t make it.”

Nervous laughter erupted from Xander. “Right. Still, you did it. And it means a lot to me. So yeah,” Xander leaned down, offering Spike a hand up. “Thanks, Spike.”

Spike stared at the proffered hand for a moment, then took it. Rising quickly to his feet, he quipped, “An’ look at tha’. The world didn’t end.”


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


Grayson, the wetworks team leader, had just finished securing their captives when gunfire erupted overhead. “Take cover!”

Hands reached for the Americans, dragging them to their feet, guiding them to take cover against the house.

“Don’t fire!” Grayson shouted, scouting around to ascertain location. “Hold fire!”

As abruptly as it started, the hail of gunfire ceased. One of the captured soldiers had been hit and he was groaning softly. Working quickly, Grayson and one of the Brackens staunched the bleeding;
applying a rough dressing to the thigh wound.

“Non-fatal injury, but he should get to a hospital.” Frank, a Sunnydale cop, held his hand on the wound. “We can have an ambulance here in minutes.”

Covering his microphone, Grayson nodded, the motioned Frank to silence. Directing his comments into the speaker, he gave a status report to Nicholson. “Area is secured. All targets acquired. One target is wounded and requires medical assistance.”

Up on the roof, Nicholson waved a hand to get Travers attention. Quickly he relayed Grayson’s information to his boss, who okayed the ambulance.

The next orders were ones Grayson finally expected. “Secure the rest. We’ll be down shortly.”

Within moments, the soldiers were gathered under watchful eyes in the backyard.


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


Jenner lifted the wounded soldier off Connor. He whistled once and when Paulie and two other vampires appeared, he shoved the soldier at them. “Give him to the Watchers. Let them decide what happens to him.”

Grabbing Faith roughly, he growled when she started to protest. Without saying another word to anyone, Jenner pulled the dark-haired Slayer close, then deliberately stepped off the roof.

Landing lightly on his feet, Jenner wasn’t surprised when Faith clipped him on the chin. “Warn a girl next time, jackass.”

“Shut up, Faith.” He spun her around as she tried to walk away. Dropping his shoulder, Jenner tipped her into a fireman’s carry, slapping her ass sharply once she was settled. “I’m really not in the mood for any bullshit.”

Faith was quiet for a heartbeat, then groused, “You can be a real asshole, you know that?”

“Yeah. Yeah.” He slapped her again for emphasis. “Bitch at me later. After I’ve fucked you senseless.”

“Ha!” Faith squirmed in his grasp. “Not likely to happen.” When her movements didn’t slow him down, she bit his side. “Let me down.”

“Fuck!” He stopped, shoving Faith away. “What the fuck was that for?”

“Because you wouldn’t stop. The caveman routine is getting old.” She didn’t back down, getting into his space, crowding him. “What’s the deal with that anyway?”

The Welsh vampire rubbed his side, grumbling about her being childish. He was effectively stalling, unwilling to answer her question.

“Giving me shit about biting you isn’t working. So get over it and tell me why you went ten thousand B.C. on me.” Crossing her arms over her chest, Faith struck a pose that clearly said she wasn’t buying his attempted distraction. “Besides, a vampire complaining about a bite? Wicked ironic, dude.”

Mimicking her pose, Jenner stared her down, not speaking. Faith eyed him speculatively, her mind whirling with all sorts of possibilities. Finally, after a few tense moments, Faith’s expression changed.

“I get it.” She stepped closer, a knowing smile playing about her lips. “It’s okay.”

Faith leaned into his suddenly open arms. “I was freaked too.”


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


Buffy was still crouched on the roof, her attention on the spot Spike had just vacated. The roof looks wet. Why’s the roof wet? “Spike?”

He swung around to look at her, noting the expression on her face. “What?”

“Turn around.” She gingerly got to her feet, her eyes boring into his. When he shrugged, ignoring her, Buffy reached out for him. “Spike, why didn’t you say something?”

“No need. ‘ll just get the doc to dig it out.”

“What?” Xander stared at the blond vampire. “What’s going on?”

“Nothin’. Slayer’s just overly worried.” Spike pushed past the carpenter, hiding the grimace of pain from everyone. Or so he thought.

“Spike?” Wesley and Giles spoke simultaneously, the younger Englishman actually spying a glimpse of the seeping blood staining his shirt.

He growled, ignoring their concern. “‘m fine. Let’s get back inside, yeah?”

Without waiting to see if any of them bothered to listen to him, Spike disappeared into Dawn’s room.


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


Giles eyed the tableau in the living room. The five women were all in a deep trance, unaware of events occurring around them. Now that the crisis was past it was his task to help them surface. It would take delicate balance, waking them without disturbing them overly.

The last thing he wanted to do was cause dangerous side effects. Waking any of them abruptly could trigger debilitating headaches, nausea, and vomiting.

Contemplating the women, Giles decided he would start with the two solitary figures. The group of three by the hearth would be a bit tricky and he needed a little extra time to decide who he should attempt to waken first. Tara was standing beside the kitchen entrance, so he headed there first. A quick check of her heartbeat told Giles she was fine, though in a deep trance.

Inhaling deeply, Giles gently placed one hand on her shoulder and with the other, he cradled her chin. Using his thumb, Giles gently brushed over the spot at the middle of her forehead, between her eyebrows, known as the “third eye”. Every third pass, Giles spoke her name, calling her out of the trance.

It was slow going, but Giles knew it would, in the end, be the smarter choice.

Besides, it gave him something to do while Spike was prepped for surgery.


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



Buffy was up and after Spike before the others even realized he was gone.

“Spike?”

He didn’t slow down, heading straight for their bedroom. “Spike?”

“Not now.” He slammed into the bedroom, startling Anya, who was standing over the twins. She jumped, preparing to scoop them up when she realized it was Spike.

One look at his expression had her scrambling from the room. “I’ll just go now.”

As she headed for the door, he cast a look over his shoulder. “Thanks, pet.”

“No problem.”

The two girls swept past each other in the doorway, and Buffy aimed right for the bathroom and the first aid kit.

“Leave it, kitten.” He snapped at her, stripping out of the blood soaked shirt. Spike grimaced, mopping the seeping blood from his abdomen. The bullet was lodged in his upper right chest, very close to his arm. Had he been just a bit quicker, it might have missed him altogether.

Buffy stepped toward him. “What’s with the bad mood?”

Spike probed the wound, trying to discover how deep the bullet was. He ignored her, his complete attention focused on his side.

“Spike?”

“Not now, Buffy.” He wouldn’t even look at her and she knew he was pissed. Buffy moved closer, grabbing the shirt away from him.

“Let me see.” Instead of letting her help him, Spike shied away, heading on his own for the bathroom. As if she needed more proof that he was pissed at her, he slammed the door shut in her face.

Oh crap. Buffy shifted her weight from foot to foot, biting her lip and wondering if barging into the bathroom would make it worse. He’s really mad. Should I? What is he so pissed about?

Blankets shifted behind her, forcibly reminding Buffy of why they were in their current situation. And suddenly it dawned on her what had ticked off Spike.

Me. He’s mad at me. ‘Coz I didn’t listen to him and wait. Oh hell.

Because I didn’t stay put.

Buffy sagged against the door, aware of just how badly she’d screwed up.


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


For the first time in a very long while, Quentin Travers was in the trenches. While he didn’t fool himself into believing his very small contribution had any part in the outcome, he was still exhilarated.

The resolution of the current situation had him reeling. Not so much the ultimate outcome, but the efficiency and ease with which Buffy and her allies had dispatched their foes. Though he’d never really doubted her, nor her Watcher. Rupert Giles, for all his teenaged rebellion, had been the top of his class and a valued instructor during his years in the academy. And Buffy Summers had defeated Nest and Glorificus, as well as averting more than her fair share of apocalypses.

Neither was to be taken lightly.

Descending the stairs to the lower level, Travers was hit with further proof of how effective their loose organization was. Anya Jenkins, she of the formidable negotiating skills, was coordinating via telephone with at least two other people, ordering them about like the seasoned veteran she appeared to be. Catching his eye, she imperiously motioned him to wait, and Travers grinned at her next words.

“Mr. Travers, your men are holding the Initiative agents in the back yard. We thought it would be less conspicuous that way. Though why that’s something to worry about doesn’t make any sense to me. No one pays attention anyway.” Her blinding smile made him chuckle and he followed her outstretched arm toward the back of the house.

“How many were captured?”

Anya did a quick mental calculation, subtracting both Graham Miller and Riley Finn from the total. “Ah, there are thirteen. Well, fourteen counting the one we caught earlier.”

When he looked at her questioningly, she blurted out, “He was spying on the Magic Box.”

“Ah. Very well.” Travers stepped out onto the back porch, flanked by Nicholson and the former demon. He surveyed the situation, noting how his men were in control. “Is there somewhere we can hold these men until their superiors arrive?”

Pursing her lips, Anya contemplated the question. On the one hand, she had a feeling none of the others wanted to reveal how extensive their networking was, but on the other, she didn’t think Buffy wanted a makeshift prison in her backyard. She needed to consult with Rupert before giving the Council and more specifically, Travers that information.

“I’m not sure.” She smiled again, only this one was a bit forced, and never truly reached her eyes. “Rupert is the one you should be talking to about this. Or Wesley. Yes, let me get Wesley.”

Anya fled so fast, Travers barely had time to respond.


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


Connor watched as Jenner stalked off, Faith slung easily over his shoulder. “Guess he’s pissed.”

Oz chuckled while Xander stared at their retreating forms. “Who was that?”

“Jenner.” Connor shrugged, collecting all the discarded weapons. “They’re . . . um, dating. I guess.”

“One way to explain it.” Oz slipped to the other side of the roof.

Xander shook his head in confused exasperation. “What’s his deal? And how come she’s not bitching?”

“Could be that Aurelian mojo he’s got working.” Hefting the guns over his shoulders, Connor followed Oz.

“Aurelian?” The carpenter gaped at him. “You mean he’s a vamp?”

“Older than Angelus.” Dumping the weapons on the floor of Dawn’s room, Connor waited until Xander was back in the bedroom before slamming the window shut. “She’ll kill me if I don’t reset the air conditioner.”

“Faith’s dating a vamp? What is it? Some weird Slayer thing that only dead guys get them horny?”

Xander realized a second too late that he’d said something wrong. The weapons clattered together and Connor was glaring at him. ‘Dude, that’s seriously messed up. And I don’t think it’s a vampire thing. Not the way you mean it, anyway.”

Oz had halted when Xander started speaking and he was watching the other two. Connor was spluttering, trying to intimidate Xander, who wasn’t backing down from the teen. He shook his head and interrupted, “It’s a strength thing.”

“What?” Xander’s attention was caught.

Deciding to elaborate, Oz continued. “How can you respect someone you can lift with one hand?”

The other two stared at him, waiting for him to explain more. But Oz smiled a little, then left them to their own thoughts.

Xander started to speak, his mouth opening and closing a couple of times, but he couldn’t think of anything to say. Huh. Not really a vamp thing . . . nah, he can’t be right.

Could he?


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



Buffy was still debating about barging into their bathroom when Wesley’s voice sounded through the doorway. “Buffy? Spike? May I come in?”

Spike flung the bathroom door open, barely missing her inert form. He didn’t apologize, just frowned at her, then moved past. He opened the hallway door, leaning on the frame. “Oxford.”

“Oh, good. It’s not as bad as I thought.” Wesley gestured to the bullet hole. “Is it still in there?”

The vampire looked down. “Yeah. Can’t get m’finger in. ‘s at a bad angle.”

“I see.” Wesley peered closer. “Travers said the surgeon is here. It might be prudent to have him remove the bullet as well as the chip.”

Spike nodded, then ran a hand through his hair. “Where do you think we should do this?”

Wesley’s eyes sought out Buffy’s. He could feel the tension between the two blondes, though he wasn’t certain of the cause. Wesley suspected it had something to do with what had just occurred. Buffy bit her lip and she looked at Spike. When he refused to meet her gaze, her lip quivered. He could make out the sudden sheen of tears and wasn’t surprised a moment later when two fat tears slid down Buffy’s cheeks.

She sniffled hard, then drew in a deep breath.

Before either of them was able to react, Buffy’s face crumpled. “I’m sorry. Really, I should’ve listened and –“

Spike sighed, the tension leaving his body in a whoosh. “Go on back to bed, kitten.”

“Spike, I’m sorry.” She covered the distance between them, her arms circling around his waist, head resting against his bare chest. “I’m a dope.”

The vampire chuckled, his arms holding her close. “No, you’re just a bossy controlling bit o’ goods that doesn’t trust anyone else to get the job done.”

Wesley couldn’t help his chuckle, though he tried. Almost choking on his laughter, he wisely turned his attention to the crib.

Two tiny bundles barely took up any space on the mattress. One blue and one pink, both with chubby cheeks and downy blond hair capping their heads. Wesley reached in, his fingers gently touching their faces. The little girl didn’t react, but the blue bundle stirred, stretched and opened his eyes.

“He’s got your eyes.” Wesley looked over his shoulder. Buffy leaned up to kiss Spike while he was trying to maneuver her back to the bed.

“Hmmm?” Spike pulled away from Buffy to join Wesley by the bed. The baby’s eyes were still open and Spike looked down at him. “Hello there, nipper.”

Buffy linked arms with Spike. “Oh! He’s right.”

“Have you picked out names?”

Spike ran a hand over the baby’s head, smoothing down his hair, feeling the fragility of his form. “We have.”

When neither of them offered to tell him, Wesley stepped back. “Going to wait?”

“Yeah. Just until everyone’s together. Wan’ to let Dawn know first.” His fingers brushed over the girl’s cheek, mimicking his earlier movements with her twin. “But this is our girl.”

Buffy’s smile was blinding. “And we’re so glad she made it.”

The trio was quiet for a long time, just looking at the babies, until Spike winced. “Need to get this done soon.”

“Right. Shall I tell them to set things up in the dining room?” Wesley headed for the door.

The blondes shared a look, Buffy was the one to answer. “That’s the best place, right? We’ve got old sheets to put on the floor.”

“Won’t need ‘em. Shouldn’t bleed much, if at all.” Spike reluctantly pulled away from the crib. “You should go back to bed, kitten.”

“Nahuh. I’m gonna make sure there’s no mistakes and Travers doesn’t pull a double cross.” Buffy trailed behind the two men, her eyes on Spike’s back. “I’m not really big on trusting right now.”











I apologize for the delay in posting -- as most of you know, I've been severely under the weather and the situation is just getting worse. I'll be out for a couple of weeks in the beginning of July because of surgery, but hopefully will be back on track soon. Thanks to everyone who's still reading and leaving lovely reviews. I appreciate each and every one -- all of you. Thank you so much!