[A/N] So who knew forcing myself to write a certain amount per day was going to actually work in my favor? Certainly not I. Well, you guys get to benefit from that. In the next couple of chapters, something about Spike is going to be revealed that I’ve often felt, based on information that Joss Whedon has let slip about our favorite vampire. So you’ll learn about what I think and some of my theories in my upcoming author’s notes. For now, though, just a fair warning that this is getting close to a wrap up. Disclaimers mean that I don’t own anything, except for a few knick-knacks here and there, but not a damn thing of importance. Oh, and those wonderful words at the beginning of the chapter? Not mine either. But hey, enjoy the story anyway.]

Previously: The Initiative has been taken down by combined forces, and they’re all currently under someone else’s control. It remains to be seen what happens to Special Agent Finn. . . . Jenner took Faith off to ravish her after she’d been in harm’s way. . . and Spike’s about to go under the knife and have a little something taken off the top. . . This picks up shortly after our last installment.

Book Three

Chapter Thirty-Two Wondrous strange

Day and night, but this is wondrous strange!
Hamlet. Act I, scene v

People are strange when you're a stranger
Faces look ugly when you're alone
Women seem wicked when you're unwanted
Streets are uneven when you're down
Robby Krieger and Jim Morrison, People are Strange, from the album Strange Days, 1967

Nothing unreal exists.
Spock, Star Trek IV: The Voyage Home

Yet, the Universe is real enough to the conscious beings in it,
which are as unreal as it is itself.
H. P. Blavatsky

All phenomena are real in some sense,
unreal in some sense, meaningless in some sense,
real and meaningless in some sense,
unreal and meaningless in some sense,
and real and unreal and meaningless in some sense.
Robert Anton Wilson


Ian watched with dawning horror the events occurring in the yard of the small suburban house. This had seemed like such a nondescript, ordinary place, and yet evidence to the contrary kept appearing right before his eyes.

Armed men on the ground, surrounding the house, and a helicopter discharging more of the same onto the roof weren’t the strangest thing he’d witnessed in the last hour. By far, that honor belong to the sight of four men literally springing into the air some twenty feet, to land atop the roof. It had him gaping in awed disbelief.

Everything he’d seen only confirmed what he’d assumed. He’d been asked by MI6 to help them. Ian had never been so excited and scared in his life. More than once, he’d thought about leaving the car to get involved. Doing what, he wasn’t entirely sure of, but he’d felt the pull of the fight, because there was no doubt in his mind that’s what he was witnessing, and he’d wanted to join them. Ian supposed it was his own reckless nature responding to outside forces.

He wasn’t surprised when a group appeared on the lawn. Ten or so men, arms bound behind them were being herded from the back yard into a van that had just pulled up in front of the property. Fully armed guards were directing their progress, nudging the ones who lagged behind.

Ian was so involved with watching, he nearly jumped out of his skin when someone tapped on the window. It took him a few moments to recognize Nicholson, but when he did, Ian opened the door.

“Bring your kit, doctor. We’re ready for you now.”


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



“Connor.” The teenager turned around, waiting for Wesley to catch up to him. “Need you to slip out and meet with Lawson. He’s probably close by.”

“What am I supposed to do when I find him?” Connor glanced at the taller male, wondering if they were just trying to keep him occupied and get rid of him for a while.

“Convince him, if he needs it, to bring Agent Finn back here.”

One pair of blue eyes surveyed the other. “You really think he’s still alive? And that Sam will listen to me?”

The questions were a little too loud for Wesley’s liking and he admonished Connor, pulling him into the kitchen. “Don’t let anyone from the Council hear that. And, to answer your question, yes, I do think both those things. None of them would dare go against Spike. Finn’s alive and they’re waiting for Spike to determine what happens.”

Wesley looked around, checking to see who was about. Finding none of the Council members, he pushed Connor toward the back door. “Go. And try not to let anyone see you.”


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



Surprisingly, Kait was the easiest to wake. With a bare touch of his hands and calling her name only twice, the witch was alert, coherent and slightly cheerful. Giles was amazed at her recovery.

When he remarked upon it, Kait smiled knowingly into her cup of tea and quipped, “This is far from my first time at the dance, Rupert.”

He helped Dawn to the couch, a steadying hand around her waist. “Indeed.”

“How are you feeling, Dawn?” Kait shifted her attention to the teen, who was looking more than a little pale, highlighting her resemblance to Spike.

She blinked, smiling wanly. “Okay, I guess.” Dawn slumped back, resting her head on the back of the couch. “I’m pretty tired.”

“You should eat something.” Grace put a soda next to her. “Drink that and you’ll feel better.”

Kait nodded. “A cheeseburger and some chocolate would be best.”

Dawn groaned. “Not ready for that.”

The two older witches laughed. “You will be.”

Giles, who was helping Willow to her feet, agreed. “Give yourself a little time, Dawn. And you should trust these ladies.”

“Yeah, yeah. Right now I just wanna sleep.” Dawn closed her eyes, shutting out everyone around her.


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



Faith only put up with Jenner’s high-handedness for a couple of blocks before she just gave up. Punching, kicking, and grousing hadn’t worked any other time he’d done this. He’d barely hugged her when she was back up, slung over his shoulder like some helpless floozy and he’d just rescued her from a fate worse than death.

It wasn’t like she couldn’t fight him – she was a Slayer, after all. But it was more that she didn’t actually want to fight him. Not unless it was for the fun of it.

So this time, when Faith had hung upside down over his shoulder long enough, she just asked. Nicely. For her, anyway.

“Hey, big guy, you wanna put me down?”

“No.”

She sighed, contemplated smacking the back of his head, then changed her mind. “C’mon, let me down.”

His pace paused and Faith realized in this instance, softer might actually work. “All the blood is rushing to my head.”

“Not my problem.” Jenner kept going, even lengthening his stride.

“I’ll let you chase me.”

Well that seemed to do the truck, because he stopped dead in his tracks. “You will?”

“Yeah.” Just the thought was making her squirm and Faith wiggled a little bit. His big meaty hand slapped her butt and then she was on her feet, facing him.

Jenner’s face was set, his jaw muscles flexing and jumping. His eyes were dark, smoldering with reddish amber lights. Faith had never seen him this composed and she wondered if this wasn’t such a good idea after all.

His eyes traced her from the toes up and his nostrils flared when he got to her face.

“Run.”

Faith took off like the devil was on her heels.


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



Travers motioned the youngest Slayer toward him. “I suggest you stay nearby, in case further reinforcements arrive.”

It was clear she wasn’t at all happy with the task. When she started to balk, Travers held up a hand. “I very much doubt it will be taxing, since I expect a representative from the U.S. Military to arrive shortly. I do however, believe it is still prudent to have someone available should the situation warrant it.”

Kennedy didn’t bother hiding her contempt. “Why should I worry about these people?”

A stern look met her whined complaint. “For a variety of reasons, Kennedy. Not the least of which is protecting two innocent lives. Perhaps you should think about putting your childish anger aside and focus on what needs doing.”

Quentin didn’t wait for Kennedy to splutter out some further nonsense. He wanted to see how the doctor was going to proceed with the chip removal. There had never – at least to his knowledge – been documented, and by that he meant Council, evidence of the effect of brain surgery on a vampire. While he was certain the Initiative had some working knowledge of vampire physiology and anatomy, he believed much of their information derived from human subjects. Capture of vampires was a notoriously dangerous undertaking, resulting very often in the death of one or more of the potential captors. That William was willingly allowing the Council not only access, but active participation, spoke more to the desperation and drive to protect his family than Travers had heretofore been willing to credit to vampires.

Obviously, there was more about William the Bloody that the Council needed to learn.

Travers could only hope they’d continue to be seen as allies. He had no desire to be on the receiving end of the kind of ferocious protectiveness he’d exhibited.

He’d much rather have that kind of man on his side.

And right now, he’d do everything in his power to keep it so.

There were prophesied battles ahead that would take all their abilities.

Even those wooed from the darkness.


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



Nicholson escorted the doctor into the house, closing the door gently behind them.

“This way, doctor.” Nicholson swept his arm toward the dining room, which had been stripped down, and all breakables had been removed. “Your patient will be down shortly.”

“Will I have a sterilized operating theater?”

The Scot smiled thinly. “I very much doubt it.”

Ian goggled at him. “You can’t expect me to perform brain surgery in these conditions. The patient will not survive! Without adequate facilities he’ll be dead!”

A strange laugh emerged from the other man. “I sincerely doubt that.”

The doctor shook his head. “You can’t possibly predict a different outcome! The patient will, most assuredly, be dead before I finish.”

“Reckon so.” A dangerous looking blonde appeared in the doorway. Despite his short stature and semi-dressed state, Ian could feel the power emanating from him. “Then again, ‘ll be dead before you start.”

“What?” Ian’s eyes darted from one man to the other. “I don’t understand.”

“Don’t expect you to.” The blonde sauntered into the room, stopping in front of the Canadian. “Just ‘xpect you to do what you’re asked. Without questions.”

He couldn’t help himself from backing away. Ian didn’t cower, but something about the blond frightened him. There was a predatory gleam in his eyes that Ian had never seen before.

“Spike, stop scaring the doctor.” A small hand slapped the back of the blond man’s head and his look changed to one of chagrin.

“Let a man have a bit ‘f fun, eh, Slayer.” The grin this Spike sent the tiny blonde girl at his side was nothing short of little-boy mischievous.

“Not now, Spike.” She turned her gaze to Ian. “Hi. I’m Buffy. Thanks for coming. Can you really do this?”

Ian’s normal manners fled. This young girl was enormously pregnant and as flustered as he was, he blurted out the first thing on his mind. “Good lord, you’re very pregnant! When are you due?”

The two blonds shared a look and bright smiles broke out on both their faces. “About four hours ago. The babies are upstairs.”

Their reaction thankfully gave Ian a moment to recover. “Forgive me.” He held out his hand. “My name is Ian Darrow. Very nice to meet you, Buffy.”

“Thanks. This is Spike.” She slapped a hand across his bare belly. “We need you to remove some hardware. You don’t mind a two for one deal, do you?”

“Two for one?” Ian was sizing up his patient, only now noticing the bullet hole in his upper right chest and blood smears across his chest and abdomen. “When did that happen?”

“‘bout an hour ago.” The blond shrugged, clearly unconcerned. “Give or take. Itches like hell.”

“So can you do it?” Buffy smiled brightly. Ian felt like he’d stepped into a story – a movie set – where he didn’t quite know or understand the plot.

Swallowing heavily, he answered with as much assurance he could muster under the circumstances. He certainly didn’t want to be the one to break the bad news to the new mother – since these two were very clearly a couple – that her husband would most definitely not survive two surgeries under these conditions. “I can.”

Buffy clapped her hands together. “Great! Let’s get started.”


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


Xander stuck close to Oz, the only person he thought he knew, at least Oz didn’t appear much different from the guy he’d been in high school, while the others all bore little resemblance to the people he’d known.

Giles, and Wesley especially, had changed from book nerd to almost Bond guy. And while he did have memories of Giles getting into the trenches with them, Wesley had never been a go-to kind of guy. In fact, when Xander first met him, he was pretty sure it was his picture next to ‘nerd’ in the dictionary.

Xander hated to admit it, but hanging around with Spike seemed to have been a benefit to Wesley.

He was almost cool.

Another thing Xander didn’t get was the change in Dawn. Once upon a time she’d had a huge crush on him, but now, she barely registered his presence. Dawn hadn’t gushed over him the way she used too. He couldn’t even remember if they’d even spoken since he got back. Okay, so arriving in the middle of crisis wasn’t the time for heart-to-heart conversations or catching up, she still could’ve acted happy to see me.

And yet, none of those were the biggest changes.

He knew a huge part of his exile from the group was because of his inability to accept Buffy’s relationship with Spike. He understood that his feelings about demons – vampires in particular – had caused a rift between himself and Buffy and also with Anya.

He left Sunnydale, half expecting everything to blow up in their faces. So that he could be the voice of smug reason and be able to say ‘I told you so’ when it all fell apart.

What happened was something completely different.

Buffy and Spike were as joined as any two legally unmarried people could be. Legally unmarried? Was that even a thing? With house and home, two teenagers and – and Xander still had trouble with this – two brand spanking new babies. Twins! Babies! Xander had no idea it was even possible for that to happen. Vampires couldn’t have babies.

Anya’s voice echoed in the hallway as she moved between rooms, her voice confident and assured.

She’d changed.

Gone was the girl always eager for his approval, the girl who blurted out strange and personal details with aplomb. In her place was a woman who had settled on a hair color, who was confident, in control, and obviously garnered more respect than he’d ever given her.

Her watched her deal with vampires and other demons, his eyes trained on her back. She was standing on the back porch, the door wide open and at least six demons listening intently to her detailed instructions.

She was undeniably in her element and he wondered, with no small amount of regret, if she still resented the way he’d treated her. Would she forgive me? Does she even think about me?

Does she still care?

The demons moved off and Anya re-entered the house. Without really glancing at the two males, she began cleaning, loading the dishwasher and putting away food.

“It’s going to be daylight soon. We’re going to need stuff for breakfast.” Her tone was matter of fact, completely devoid of any emotion. Almost as if they’d only ever been friends and not even close ones at that.

I guess I’ve got my answer.


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



No amount of training in the world could have prepared him for this. Ian Darrow had practiced medicine for twenty years, the last ten at nearly the top of his field. Neurosurgery was a highly specialized area – requiring hours of preparation before each foray into the patient’s brain. He was usually assisted by an entire team of crack professionals, in a sterile, contained environment.

What he was doing right now was nowhere near normal.

Half expecting Hawkeye Pierce to scrub in, Ian kept thinking a third world clinic would be less weird.

More than half the room’s occupants were British, all male. While the females – at least the little blond – were obviously in control and all Americans. Everyone seemed to be deferring to Buffy.

She’d ordered one of the men, a tall, lanky male with round glasses and a quiet assurance, to obtain sheets for the floors and furniture. After he’d gone, she’d turned her attention to Nicholson, asking for a tactical update.

Ian was completely bewildered.

His astonishment must have shown clearly on his face, because Spike, the dangerous one, laughed at him. “She’s somethin’, isn’t she?”

He could only nod, unable to verbalize his impressions.

“Don’t worry, doc. Her bite is worse than the barking. An’ so long as you patch me up proper, she’ won’t be bitin’.”

Ian fixed his attention back on his patient. “Are you certain you don’t want any painkillers? This will hurt.”

“Jus’ dig the bloody thing out. I promise I won’t bite.” Spike’s grin didn’t comfort Ian at all.

“Somehow I’ve a feeling that your bite is just as bad as hers.” He was totally unprepared for the reaction. Spike laughed so hard he nearly fell from his perch on the table.

“Too right, mate. Too bloody right.” Spike calmed himself, visibly relaxing. “C’mon, doc. Time’s wastin’.”

“Is there alcohol in the house?” Ian was unpacking his bag, laying out everything he thought he might need.

“Already drank most of it. But there’s some thirty year old Macallan’s in the cupboard.” Spike leaned back, fumbling for the handle. He caught sight of Ian’s expression and chuckled again. “Yeah, doc, ‘m not a complete idiot. Know you mean the other kind.”

The tall lanky one – Wesley? – returned, old sheets piled in his arms. “These were all I could find.”

Buffy came back in from the kitchen. “Oh, those are good. Anything else we need?”

“Rubbing alcohol.” Ian swabbed Spike’s chest, wiping away much of the blood smears. He peered intently at the wound. “You’re very lucky. This missed your lungs and hitting a pair of major arteries. Not a lot of bleeding.”

The other two shared a strange look. To Ian it almost appeared they were trying desperately not to laugh, which he thought was rather odd. Buffy was biting her lip, avoiding the other fellow’s eyes.

With a strained exhalation, the male muttered something sounding suspiciously like “no blood, of course not, dead men don’t bleed” before exiting the room.

Not bothering to hide his laughter at all, Spike yelled after him, “Oi! Oxford! Get me some bloody alcohol!”

He ducked back through the doorway. “Right. I’ll get on that, straight away, because we can’t risk infection.”

That comment was enough to set off both of them. Buffy clapped a hand over her mouth to stop the giggles while the male’s laughter followed him up the stairs.

Spike was grumbling under his breath about ‘cheeky bints’ and ‘gits’ and other things Ian suddenly didn’t want to understand. Gaining the blond’s attention wasn’t difficult, though Ian wasn’t sure he wanted it when Spike’s mood turned.

Abruptly, he changed from likeable grump to deathly serious. Ian held his breath, as Spike seemed to growl out, “Get on with it. Jus’ take the bloody thing out.”

Using a set of narrow forceps, Ian probed the bullet hole. Thankfully it wasn’t very deep, so he was able to remove it easily. Blood only trickled from the wound, stopping long before Ian had it ready for suturing.

Spike’s hand on his arm stopped him. “Don’t bother stitching me up. Waste of time.”

Ian stared at him. “Are you mad? The wound is bound to bleed without them. The risk of infection – “

“Is nil. Stitches aren’t needed.” Spike pushed away his hand. “Best move along to m’noggin. ‘S why you came, not this.”

He reached for some pressure bandages. “These’ll do.”

Wesley returned with a rather extensive emergency kit in hand. The thing was bigger than Ian’s bag, and contained more than enough supplies, far more than Ian brought with him. “Good lord! Who’s the resident on staff?”

Spike snorted his amusement, leaving it for Wesley to answer. “The potential for injury is rather high in our field.”

Once more Ian was speechless. His gaze swung between the two as he struggled to keep his thoughts – and questions – to himself. Finally, after a long moment, Spike gestured to the bullet still in Ian’s hand. “Gonna save that for souvenir?”

“Should I?” He gazed down at the bloody lump sitting in his palm. “Will I be allowed to?”

“We’re not in the business of hurting people that help us.” Buffy’s voice sounded from behind him and Ian turned to face her.

“That’s good to know.”

She neared the makeshift operating table, her eyes on Spike’s wound. “How long is he gonna be on the sidelines?”

“That very much depends on whether he survives the next surgery.” Ian couldn’t sugarcoat this at all, not even for a brand-new mother. “I’m not at all sure I can perform surgery under these conditions. I’d feel much better in a hospital.”

He sensed a change in Buffy’s confidence, so he continued his arguments. “Without access to at least an x-ray machine, I can’t tell how close I am to the foreign object.”

“It’s a chip.” Spike bluntly stated. “Behavior modification chip implanted in my brain to control me.”

“What? A computer chip?” Ian was thoroughly baffled. “Why would anyone want to control someone like that?”

“Military types looking to create the perfect soldier.”

“What!” The doctor was stunned. He couldn’t think and none of the others was forthcoming with any more information. Backing away from the trio, Ian blurted out, “Isn’t that – isn’t – didn’t the Nazis try that?”

No one answered him.









Thanks to everyone who left me a kind word last time, it's all greatly appreciated. Especially the ones concerning a rapid recovery and get well wishes. I am in sore need of all those! Thank you all!! Love and hugs, Nia