[A/N: I had a horrible week. Okay, not really horrible, but I spent the week worried and in a lot of pain. Somehow I did something to my back and well, it just has been giving me fits. I can’t stand for very long. . . but really, I know none of you want to hear that, so I’ll just get to the point. This is getting to the end. I’m not sure how many chapters are left – that depends on how much these characters cooperate. When I know, you’ll know. All thanks to my beta, who is the best editor in the world. Tam, I absolutely could not do this without you. No way, no shape, no how. Title and quotes are as attributed. I own nothing, because I am too busy paying rent and trying to keep my head above water.]

Previously: The doctor is about to take Spike’s chip out and everyone is dealing with the aftermath of the fight with the Initiative. This picks up immediately following the last installment.


Book Three

Chapter Thirty-three

Truth stood on one side and Ease on the other; it has often been so.
Theodore Parker, A Discourse of Matters Pertaining to Religion.

Truth has never been, can never be, contained in any one creed or system.
Mrs. Humphry (Augusta Arnold) Ward, Robert Elsmere. Book vi. Chap. xxxviii.

There is nothing so powerful as truth,— and often nothing so strange.
Daniel Webster, Argument on the Murder of Captain White, April 6, 1830. Vol. vi. p. 68.



Despite her complete skepticism about eating and drinking, within minutes of being woken from the trance, Dawn found herself downing the soda and looking for something to eat.

Anya had cleaned up the uneaten dinner stuff, putting away all the pasta and sauce Tara made, but Dawn was too hungry to wait for it to be reheated. So she was eating cold noodles and staring into the open refrigerator.

“I can’t believe there’s nothing to eat.” She slammed the door closed. “How come there’s never anything good to eat?”

“Probably because you’re a teenager who likes peanut butter and fluff quesadillas with bananas.” Buffy opened the refrigerator. “Is there any extra special good stuff in here for Spike?”

“In the freezer.” Dawn headed for the cabinets. “Ohh! Look, Connor left some brownies!”

“Better save some for later.” The microwave whirred to life, heating two blood bags. “Either that or be prepared to make more.”

“I’ll do it. I’m craving some bacon and eggs.” Tara entered the kitchen from the living room. “And chocolate.”

“Mmmmm.” Dawn whirled to face them. “Chocolate covered bacon.”

Both blondes made icky faces. “Ew. No.”

The microwave pinged and Buffy grabbed the bags. “Still frozen. Keep an eye on these, would ya? I’m gonna go check on the debate.”

“Who’s debating?” Suddenly the kitchen was full of women and Buffy wasn’t sure which one of them had spoken.

“The surgeon wants to head to a hospital and Spike and Wesley are trying to convince him otherwise.”

Kait asked, while slicing open the bacon package. “What’s his reasoning?”

“He’s afraid Spike won’t make it through the operation because he won’t be able to tell how close he is to the chip.”

“Is that all?” Grace pointed Buffy toward the dining room. “I can help with that.”


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


Wesley had been right. Connor always hated when that happened. Lawson was in the backyard, where he and two others were standing guard over Riley Finn and Graham Miller.

“Dude.” Connor approached cautiously, knowing how on edge the vampires were. “Wes sent me out here to find you.”

“Haven’t gone very far.” Lawson’s smile eerily echoed Spike’s. “Figured he’d want us to stick close.”

“That’s what they’re telling me.” The teen looked over the captives, smiling when he realized they’d gagged Finn.

“Sun’s going to be up soon. We’re going to have to move.” Sam stated the obvious, though sunrise was still nearly two hours off.

Connor shrugged. Wesley hadn’t discussed this, but he figured something had to be done. “Yeah. I think you should head for the shop.”

“It is closer.” Lawson thought for a moment. Reaching some internal conclusion, he nodded. “Yeah. Get them up boys, we’re moving.”

He shook Connor’s hand. “We’ll wait there.”


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


Grace followed Buffy into the dining room, her hand outstretched to greet the doctor. “I’m Grace Martinez. I do believe I can help you.”

The doctor turned away from his argument with Spike and Wesley to stare at her. “How is that possible?”

“Well, for one thing, I’m a registered trauma nurse. For another, you’ll just have to suspend your disbelief and trust me.”

Somewhat mollified by her assurances, he calmed a bit. “Ian Darrow.”

“Now that we all know each other, can we get this show movin’?” Spike’s temper was fraying and he could feel the need for violence swimming in his body.

Before he could lie down, Grace grabbed his left hand with hers and with the fingers of her other, she gently stroked the line between his eyes.

“Relax, William. This’ll be over before you know it.” It took more than a few moments before Spike visibly relaxed. Once his body gave in, Grace removed her hand, motioning for Buffy to take over. In a hushed whisper, she told the doctor, “Your patient is ready.”

Between Grace and Wesley, they managed to follow Ian’s instructions to position Spike at the table. He fluidly moved into a chair which backed up to the table. Still holding Buffy’s hand, Spike leaned forward, his eyes closing.

Grace grinned at Ian. “Now for the fun part.”

Taking the x-ray of Spike’s head from the table, Grace stood at the window and pushed aside the curtains. “I need something sticky.”

Wesley grabbed tape from the first aid kit and ripped off pieces, handing them to Grace while she taped the x-ray to the window. “Ready?”

Muttering something unintelligible under breath, Grace passed her hand over the plastic. Light glowed from behind it and a faint trace of blue sparked around the chip itself.

Ian stared, gape mouthed, at what Grace had done. “Is – how did you? Is that what you meant by suspending my disbelief?”

“Well,” Grace looked over at Buffy, who nodded. “That’s only the start.”

“Really?” Ian shook his head. “I’ll just have to take your word.”

“Oh, please do.” Grace swept closer to the table. “It’s so refreshing when a man isn’t telling me I can’t do what I know I can.”

Ian laughed. “I think I understood that.”

Spike’s grumble interrupted them. “If you two are done chattin’ each other up, I’d like to get movin’.”

“Oh. Right.” Ian grabbed a scalpel and cut a thin line across the back of Spike’s head. Immediately the perspective on the x-ray changed, morphing from profile to the back of Spike’s head, and a thin red line appeared where Ian had made the incision.

“Stop staring, doctor.” Grace teased him.

“Right.” Ian shook his head. “Focus, Ian. Focus.”

None of them laughed.


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


The instant everyone’s attention was off her, Dawn was on her feet and heading for the second floor.

There hadn’t been time earlier to go up and see the babies before the trance, but now, with everyone’s attention diverted elsewhere, she was free to go. So Dawn didn’t waste another moment.

The bedroom was quiet, the hustle and noise on the first floor far removed. Only the barely discernable respiration from the tiniest people Dawn had ever laid eyes on broke the silence.

Dawn didn’t realize she was holding her breath until she choked on a little sob. “Oh my God! Look at you guys!”

She leaned over the crib, one hand trailing next to them. She was almost afraid to touch them. They were so very small.

“Wow.” Dawn tucked the pink blanket around her baby sister, and unable to resist, she brushed her finger over the porcelain cheek. The baby reacted, eyes blinking. Bright blue peeked out from barely open eyes and Dawn flipped. “Oh, God. You are so sweet.”

Her baby brother must have been disturbed by the small commotion because he stretched and blinked, his mouth opening in a soundless yawn.

“Oh, hey there, baby blue.” Dawn shifted her attention between the two. “Damn you two are – you’re just too damn cute.”

Almost as if they heard her, both pairs of sleepy blue eyes stared and little tiny mouths opened, lips smacking.

Finally giving in, Dawn reached in, lifting both bundles in one easy move. “You know this is probably the last time I’ll be able to do this at once.”

She didn’t go far, just to the bed, where she laid them down side by side. “You’re my family. My real brother and sister.”

Leaning over them, Dawn kissed both their foreheads.

“Welcome to the family.”


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



There was no blood.

No bleeding.

Head wounds, even controlled ones, like he was employing, bleed copiously.

The head was nothing more than bone and skin covering the brain. There was little cushion of muscle and sinew, and almost no fat. Consequently, any cut – accidental or deliberate – bled. Usually heavily.

Except this patient didn’t bleed.

Ian knew the mind was powerful. There were numerous studies about shamans, Indian holy men, Buddhist monks, and some Christians who were able to control bodily functions – heart beat, breathing. All astounding.

Almost all unbelievable. Ian had always been fascinated by these accounts, but very skeptical. There had to be entirely logical explanations for those extraordinary abilities. And while he might be willing to stretch his skepticism to extend to allowing holy people those abilities, that in no way extended to his current patient.

Spike was no holy, sainted person. Buddhist or otherwise. Ian doubted Spike had stepped foot in a church willingly since becoming an adult.

Though he didn’t doubt Spike was capable of controlling his body. Ian had never seen a more physically fit person in his life. He’d treated a couple of professional athletes, and Spike had them beat.

Yet no matter how fit any human could be, physiology still followed rules. Flesh is cut – it bleeds.

Spike didn’t bleed.

No matter how many cuts Ian made, Spike did not bleed.

And despite not trying to focus on it, Ian couldn’t keep it out of his mind. Even as he used the thin forceps to extract the chip, the lack of blood preyed on his mind.

He’d tried so hard to keep it from his mind that when he pulled the chip through the flap he’d cut, Ian didn’t say, ‘I’ve got it’, instead he blurted out, “There’s no blood.”


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



As much as she would’ve liked to stay awake and alert, Tara was feeling the effects of the last few hours. The burst of energy she’d employed was petering out by the time Oz and Xander returned with donuts and other breakfast pastries. Added to that was the stress of avoiding Willow.

There were too many people crowded into the small kitchen. It was almost impossible to move around and everyone was talking, albeit in soft tones. The air was cloying, thick with the smell of cooked bacon and eggs, unsettling her pregnant belly.

Tara could feel eyes on her, watching her put out all the sweets. It couldn’t be Oz, because he was outside – Tara knew exactly who was watching her.

It had been a long time since Willow’s close scrutiny had warmed her. Instead of feeling cherished and wanted, Willow’s gaze caused the skin on the back of her neck to crawl. For the first time, Tara felt as though Willow was judging her, assessing, trying hard to gauge Tara’s feelings.

The back door snicked open and Willow’s attention wavered. Tara needed no sixth sense to tell her who was now in the kitchen. She didn’t even need to hear his voice. It was obvious, though, that his comments were for her.

“I’m gonna sack out on the couch.”

“Okay.” Before she could suggest he go downstairs and crash on her bed, someone else interrupted their conversation.

“Sounds like a great idea. I’ll take one of the chairs.” Xander followed the redhead into the living room, his yawns punctuating his agreement.

Kait sighed. “A nap sounds wonderful, but there isn’t nearly enough room for everyone.” Tara smiled and started to answer, but the older woman silenced her with a look. “No, dear, you’ll need your own bed. I’ll just wait for Gracie and then we’ll head on home.”

“You’re sure?”

Kait glimpsed at Willow while her attention was fixed on Tara. “We’ll make sure Miss Rosenberg gets home also.”

Gratitude flooded through Tara. She didn’t want to appear rude, but Willow’s continued presence would shortly become a problem.

“Right.” Willow’s startled expression indicated she hadn’t been expecting Kait’s manipulation, but had no avenue of escape. She had to go along. Willow knew she wasn’t entirely welcome. Unless she could manage to change someone’s mind, but from the look of relief on Tara’s face, she didn’t think that was forthcoming anytime soon. Tara’s next words confirmed Willow’s thoughts.

“That would be great.” A crooked smile broke out on the blonde’s face. “Everyone’s really wiped out. And we honestly don’t have enough room.”


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



“There’s no blood.”

Buffy and Wesley shared a look the doctor completely missed. Grace breathed a laugh, though none of the others echoed her sentiment.

Ian looked up from the back of his patient’s head. “There should be blood.”

“Well, yeah, about that.” Buffy finally looked at him. “That’s one of the things you’re going to have to trust us about.”

The doctor stared at the blonde. “There is a lot I have taken on faith, Miss Summers, but there has to be a logical explanation for at least some of the things I’ve seen.”

At that Buffy did laugh a little. “Oh, my God. Where are you from?”

“I live in Toronto, but I’m originally from London.” Ian had no idea why he was answering her tangential question. “What has that got to do with this situation?”

“Because you sound like one of – you sound like a Watcher.” She shrugged, as if her statement explained everything.

“What, pray tell, is a Watcher?” He laid the chip on the table, along with the forceps.

“Wesley and Giles. And the guys that brought you here are all Watchers.” Buffy caressed the back of Spike’s hand. “They provide me with all sorts of information.”

He started to stitch the wound closed. Ian thought about asking another question and was in the process of forming one, but she continued without prompting.

“I’m the Slayer. Well, the oldest Slayer. There’s a glitch right now, because there’s only supposed to be one. But Faith got called when I died. And the new girl got called when we killed Faith.”

At his horrified look, Buffy backtracked. “No, she knew we were killing her. It was her idea. Spike thought it was crazy, but Wesley thought it would work. And it did.”

Ian was staring at her like she was completely out of her mind, and Buffy abruptly realized she’d made things worse by trying to explain. Panicked, she threw a glance at Wesley. “Help?”

He chuckled, amused at her expression.

“Very well.” Wesley turned his attention to the flummoxed surgeon. “Vampires and demons are real. Buffy is the Vampire Slayer. It is her responsibility, her duty, her Calling to fight the forces of darkness.”

His voice had taken on the weight of gravity, lending the utter nonsense he was spewing some depth of reality. Had the words not been countered by such a tone, Ian might’ve laughed outright. However, the tall, thin Englishman was utterly serious, forcing him to listen.

“A vampire slayer? What exactly is that?” Though they sounded so certain of themselves, Ian still reserved belief.

“She is chosen to fight the forces of darkness. Vampires, demons, and other-worldly beings bent on destroying everything.” Wesley gestured toward Spike. “You said there is no blood. That’s because no blood flows in his veins. Spike is a vampire.”

“What?” Ian dropped the needle, his mouth gaping wide. “He’s a what?”

“Spike is a vampire.”


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



Connor had just turned away from watching Lawson corral the two soldiers when the upstairs light flickered on. Curiosity got the better of him and before he could second guess himself, he was more than halfway up the tree, heading for Buffy and Spike’s bedroom.

Dawn was sitting on the bed, the newborns laid out in front of her. She turned as he slid through the window, motioning him to keep quiet.

“Hey. Ever hear of a door?” Her whisper was barely more than a sound, but Connor heard her clearly.

“Was quicker to come up this way. There’s way too many people in this house right now.” Connor edged closer to the bed. “Are they supposed to be that small?”

“They’re early, so yeah, I think this is normal.” Dawn shrugged, running her finger over a small cheek. “You weren’t so scrawny, so I’m not really sure.”

“They look really little.” Connor sat down on the bed next to her. He reached out to touch the pink bundle, then pulled his hand back. “I’m afraid to touch them.”

“Don’t be. They’re a lot safer than they look.” Dawn scooped up the baby girl and almost dumped her in Connor’s arms. “Just hold her head straight. You’ll be fine.”

He stared down at the tiny infant, confusion on his face. “She’s so tiny. My gym bag is heavier.”

She laughed, nudging his shoulder. “Dork. She’s probably only five pounds or so. I think my history textbook is heavier.”

Connor shied away, growling at her. “Be careful.”

“Please. Like you couldn’t hold a teeny baby?” She scoffed at him, laughing at his expression. “Lighten up!”

“Dawnie, we can’t let anything happen to them.” His eyes were drawn to the bright green eyes suddenly blinking up at him. “We can’t. They’re family.”

She sobered immediately. “I know. How cool is that? We’ve got babies.”

But Connor wasn’t really listening. Instead he was making noises at the baby in his arms, cooing and gurgling at her, hoping for a reaction. Almost as an afterthought, he mused, “Besides, Spike would kill us if something happened to either of them.”

“For real.” Dawn lifted up the blue bundle, her pose mirroring Connor’s. A thought struck her and Dawn looked over at him. “I wonder what their names are?”


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



A rather tall glass of amber liquid was placed at his elbow, drawing Ian’s attention away from his patient.

In the long moments since Wesley’s bombshell, Ian hadn’t been able to stop staring at Spike. When it was clear Ian didn’t believe anything Wesley and Buffy told him, Spike had taken matters into his own hands and shown Ian the truth. At which point, Ian had dropped into the nearest chair, his face frozen in shock.

The older Englishman, the distinguished looking gentleman with round John Lennon glasses smiled at him kindly.

“Rupert Giles.” He paused, glancing briefly at the others. “I apologize for the abrupt denouement. My colleagues sometimes show a distinct lack of finesse.”

“Oh. No worries.” Ian stared up at the man blankly, unable to think of something more proper or profound to say.

“You must forgive us all. We’ve had a rather trying week.” Giles sat down on the far side of the table, his eyes kind and understanding. “I realize this is a bit much to take in. I’d be happy to answer any questions you might have.”

“I can’t – I don’t think I have any.” Ian held onto the glass like a lifeline. “Perhaps later.”

He kept his eyes on the glass a bit longer, then with a shaky smile directed at the air, he downed the contents.

It was probably a measure of how shocked he was when the whiskey didn’t even register.

“Vampire?” Once more Ian’s gaze fixed on Spike, who was holding Buffy’s hand. “That explains so little.”

Giles barked out a laugh. His eyes sparkled with mischief, and Ian thought perhaps he was rather enjoying his discomfort. “And that, dear doctor, is truer than you know.”






Sorry about the delay, but as you read in my notes, last week was a doozy -- and this week isn't shaping up to be much better. I figured i'd get this posted now, while I can, because I can't tell how I'm going to feel from one day to the next. Hopefully, you will all stick with me, until the bitter end. Well, okay, the end won't be bitter, but you know what I mean. Thanks so much for the love and support. I do appreciate it.