[A/N: This is, quite possibly the end of the line for the Originsverse. I don’t have any new stories planned, nothing brewing in my brain plot-wise for this ‘verse. Which means, sad to say, that this is it. At least for the very foreseeable future. Perhaps forever. I’m going to focus on a couple of other things that I’ve let go, and work on them for a while. After that, I’ll see what happens. This epic has very nearly exhausted my canon Spuffy muse. Everything – pretty much – that I wanted to get said has pretty much gotten said. Hopefully I’ve not left any glaring plot holes, left nothing ambiguous, and wrapped up my Originsverse in a fairly neat little package. I hope. However, I’ll leave that to you readers to decide. For now, I’m done. Title and quotes are as attributed, and sadly, ultimately, I own nothing of the BtVS empire. I wish I did.]

Previously: The Initiative has been defeated. Spike’s chip has been removed. Travers is debating about whether to recruit Dr. Darrow. And still, no one knows what the twins’ names are.

Book Three

Chapter Thirty-Five A history making creature

Happiness and sadness run parallel to each other.
When one takes a rest, the other one tends to take up the slack.
Hazelmarie Elliott

Man is a history-making creature who can neither repeat his past nor leave it behind.
W.H. Auden, The Dyer's Hand

Tigers die and leave their skins; people die and leave their names.
Japanese Proverb

And so with all things: names were vital and important.
Algernon H. Blackwood




Two Brachens – off duty detectives – arrived at noon to relieve them, giving Lawson and George a chance to sack out and get some sleep, though neither of them went very far; only downstairs to the basement, where Spike had put in a small bedroom. While Sam trusted the Brachens, he also knew Spike wouldn’t blame anyone but him if something went wrong, and he’d rather not tempt Spike’s temper.

Finn and Miller were secured by chains to different pieces of training equipment, but only Finn was gagged. By using the Watcher’s name, Miller had bought himself something of a reprieve, though not enough for them to let him roam free. Unlike his counterpart, Miller seemed to understand exactly what their situation was.

Sam settled down to sleep on one of the cots after leaving instructions for the Brachens to wake them in case of any problems. Not that he was anticipating any, since they’d pretty much neutralized any potential difficulties during the night. But Sam had learned in the long years since his turning, whenever something appeared over and done with, that’s when things could really go south. That lesson had only been driven home even more forcefully in his short time on the Hellmouth. He’d learned to be very wary and careful. Spike would have his head if Finn escaped.

The last thing he wanted to do was disappoint Spike. That could be deadly.



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




Kennedy had watched while the vampires herded the two soldiers away from Buffy’s house, wondering what they were planning.

Before she’d been Called, she never would have dreamed she’d be placed in this position. Nor could Kennedy believe the Council would side with any vampires.

What the Council had done had disgusted her.

It also confused her.

For the last four years, ever since she’d been identified, the Council had drilled two things into her.
Slay vampires. Slay demons.

No one had ever told her differently.

So why were they allowing these vampires to stay undusty? Why did they get a pass?

What made these vampires so damn unique?

Not trusting the vampires to let the humans live, Kennedy trailed them.

It wasn’t until they were walking down the main street toward the shop that Kennedy finally got her bearings.

What the hell is going on now? I thought this shop belonged to Summers’ Watcher? Why are the vamps bringing these guys here? Why haven’t they killed them?

Kennedy clutched the stake in her hand, creeping as close as she dared. She could barely see through the darkened interior, but it looked like the vampires were leading the soldiers further inside, where she couldn’t see at all.

More confused than ever, Kennedy hunkered down to watch.



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




Just about five hours after the twins were fed, they woke their parents by mewling loudly. Spike heard them first and he was up and out of bed before Buffy could even react.

They were side by side, wrapped together into one multi-colored blanket. It was obviously not a new one and he detected the faint scent of lavender. He wondered if it had been Buffy’s and the thought made him smile. His woman liked to play it tough by hiding her emotions behind an impenetrable facade, but that was just a cover to hide how deeply she felt.

It was just one of the many things they had in common. The two tiny beings in the crib were merely the latest.

The mewls changed in timbre, becoming full-throated whines, and Spike realized he didn’t have any time to muse about them. They were demanding to be fed and – he sniffed again – have their diapers changed.

Since they were now squalling equally, Spike decided he would hand the pink bundle off to Buffy, who was finally beginning to stir. His baby boy was soaking wet by the time Spike got back to him, needing a full change of outfit.

Buffy was mumbling sleepily and he realized with a chuckle, they were in sync, yet again. She was busily checking fingers and toes, while he was doing exactly the same thing.

Once the baby was changed, all warm and dry, Spike lifted him easily. Swapping infants with Buffy, he paused, watching her for a moment. “Are we set with names, kitten?”

She glanced up at him, a sleepy smile playing on her lips. “Your father and my grandfather, right?”

“Yeah.” He hefted the baby girl, smiling down at all three of them. “An’ what about princess?”

Instead of answering directly, Buffy marveled, “I can’t believe she’s here. I thought she’d changed everything and we’d lose her.” Her free hand brushed over their baby boy’s cheek, and though the baby blinked, he didn’t stop suckling. “She has to be our girl.”

Spike paused while changing her, turning back to look at Buffy. “Not sure how all that works, but makes sense she’d have to be here first to make the change, yeah?” The rapid pattering of her tiny heart thrummed beneath his fingers and Spike caught her changeable eyes staring up at him. “Hullo there, princess.”

The baby gurgled at him happily and Spike nuzzled her belly.

“I want her to have my mother’s name.”

“Tha’s fine, love. Don’t mind that ‘t’all. Your mum was a fine woman.” He nuzzled the baby again, reveling in her scent. “Can’t do wrong that way.”

Buffy pressed kisses onto their boy’s palm. “So we’re good?”

Spike lifted a dry and dressed baby girl, turning to face her mother. “Appears so, kitten.”

“Good.” The sight of him holding one of their infants formed a lump in her throat, and Buffy could barely get her next words out. “I wish my mom could see this.”

“Whassat?”

A teary giggle bubbled out and Buffy wiped away a few stray tears. “This. Us. All of us. You!” She gasped for breath. “You’re covered in powder!”

Spike looked down at himself. A fine sheen of baby powder covered his bare chest and the dark sleep pants he’d put on before rising.

“Bollocks.”



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



A low groan filled the room, followed by soft grumbles. Bed springs protested loudly as the occupants shifted. The mattress was off-kilter, opposite corners hanging off the box spring. Sheets and clothing were strewn about the room, covering most of the floor area.

“It’s a damn good thing you bought this place.” Faith sat up, reaching for something to put on. “Otherwise you’d be thrown out.”

Jenner ran his hand down her bare back, smirking at her shivered response. “Just me? Takes two, baby.”

“You’re the one with the control issues.” She moved away, getting up gingerly.

There was an edge to her voice that he didn’t like, but Jenner didn’t bother to answer, knowing that anything he said could provoke another argument. They spent as much time fighting as they did fucking, and though one invariably led to the other, Jenner wasn’t in the mood. He wanted to just be, relaxing in the moment, grateful that everyone – especially Faith – had made it through the latest fiasco.

Faith moved about the hotel room, kicking over clothing, looking for something, yet not finding anything to her satisfaction. She wasn’t all that hard to figure out – once he knew what to look for. His Slayer hated being needed, but craved it all the same. Wanted love – to give and receive it – but had no idea what real love was about. What it meant. Even how to accept it.

He had issues?

A mental snicker of amusement rolled through his brain. Jenner was willing to admit part of Faith’s assumption was true, only not the way she’d meant it.

He knew how short life could be. He’d watched too many of his loved ones slip away; all the while aching because they refused his offer, refused to be turned. It had broken his heart when Susana refused the change. Her reasons hadn’t made sense to him, at times they still didn’t, but he hadn’t been able to persuade her differently – no matter what argument he’d used.

Faith’s fears ruled her and Jenner knew she was afraid of getting too close, of needing him more than he needed her. And try as he might, Jenner also knew no amount of verbal reassurance would ease her mind. Court-ordered counseling in prison had helped somewhat, but Faith still had a lot to work through.

Her vulnerability, hidden behind hostility and bravado, drew him. Faith was a complex, conflicted woman. Being a Slayer gave her the physical strength to keep everyone at bay, but being a Slayer also highlighted her emotional weaknesses.

Jenner tracked her movements as she traipsed into the bathroom. He sat up, scrubbing a hand through his short hair. Sitting on the edge of the mattress, staring down at his feet, he faced the truth.

Despite her shortcomings and, perhaps even because of them, Jenner loved her.

He just didn’t know if he’d ever be able to tell her.

He didn’t know how long it would be before she left – because she would leave him.

And if I don’t let her go, she may never come back.



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



By unspoken agreement, singly and in small groups, everyone began making their way back to the small house on Revello Drive. Giles and Anya were the first to arrive, carting supplies of both the consumable and highly useful – a case of preemie diapers – type.

Surprisingly enough, Xander wasn’t far behind them, bringing along a peace offering for Buffy in the form of flowers and gifts for the twins.

Only Dawn and Connor were awake when the first wave arrived, but by the time Xander knocked on the door, Tara was up. Xander had worried about his reception, given how chilly it had been just the day before, but judging by Dawn’s reaction, he needn’t have been. She squealed softly over the flowers, grabbing his arm and pulling him into the living room. “Oh! Xander, these flowers are gorgeous!”

The flowers were impossible to hide, but Xander had no trouble concealing the bottle of Jack Daniels or the cigars. Those were in his backpack, and he was fully prepared to eat crow and offer Spike his thanks for the timely rescue and congratulations.

Connor eyed him warily though he moved over, letting Xander sit beside him on the couch. “Hey Dawnie, have you seen Oz?”

She shrugged, not sure exactly where Oz was, but preferring to keep her suspicions to herself. Dawn had no problem playing dumb for Xander, since Oz’ sleeping arrangements weren’t really Xander’s business. He wouldn’t understand anyway. Coz I’m not really sure I understand, but hey, this is my life. Freaky is so the norm!

Anya and Tara were rattling around in the kitchen, their voices nothing more than indistinct murmurs while Giles was in the dining room cleaning up the mess from the night before. It fell to Wesley to engage Xander in polite conversation.

“How is Cordelia these days?” Though he’d grown more comfortable – less stuffy, and much more at ease with himself – Wesley was not a gifted conversationalist, and his awkwardness sometimes still shone through. Even as he was asking, Wesley winced at his own stilted attempt to be sociable.

“She’s doing okay. Every day she’s a little bit better.” Xander shifted in his seat, unsure how to respond.

“That’s good.” Wesley was at a loss, though he felt Xander’s willingness to return in order to help Buffy spoke volumes about his maturity. “And yourself? How are you getting along?”

Xander appreciated Wesley’s pitiful attempts to make him at ease, and for the first time, he warmed considerably. “Good. Got a job working with a big construction firm.” At Wesley’s encouraging expression, he continued, “Just got a promotion to crew chief. So it’s good.”

Dawn chirped in then, smiling brightly. “That’s great, Xand.”

The doorbell rang, interrupting whatever else any one of them might have said. They all froze for an instant, looking from one to the other when Connor huffed with exasperation. “Can’t one of you figure out how to answer the damn door?”

He stepped around and over their feet, arriving at the door just ahead of Giles. “Got it, Pops.”

Xander’s surprised exclamation of “Pops!” drowned out whoever was at the door, but Connor’s surly, “What the hell do you want?” wasn’t.

“Connor.” Giles stepped in front of him, extending his hand in greeting. “Hello, Travers, Nicholson. Greetings, Doctor.”

The former Watcher ushered the three men inside, waiting until they were past Connor before he whapped the teen on the back of his head. “Completely out of order, young man. You will apologize.”

Duly chastised, Connor grimaced, knowing Giles wouldn’t back down until he did as instructed. Waiting for the older men to take their seats around the dining room table, Connor mumbled his apology. He was about to walk away when Spike’s voice from the top of the stairs halted him.

“Do it again, pup, this time so they can hear you.”

Connor’s groan echoed throughout the two rooms. He knew better than to complain, so he shuffled his feet and ducked his head in an effort to prolong the inevitable. When he caught sight of the expression on Spike’s face, he inhaled deeply and spoke. “Right. I’m sorry for my rudeness.”

Travers recovered quickly and let the boy off the hook. “You’re forgiven.”

Spike came completely down the stairs, laid a hand on Connor’s shoulder, squeezing just hard enough to let the boy know he really was forgiven. “Go on and see if Buffy needs a hand.”

Shooting a look over his shoulder at Dawn, Connor raced up the steps. Realizing belatedly what had just happened, Dawn yelped out, “HEY!”, then raced after him.

“Someone care to tell me why you all decided to come here?” Spike wasted no time getting to the point. He’d expected the Scoobies to show, but the Council representatives were something of a surprise. A rather unwelcome one considering they had yet to decide what to do about Finn and the other Initiative soldiers.

The short silence that fell was only broken by the sound of thundering footsteps upstairs and the rather enthusiastic slamming of doors.

“We came to offer our congratulations. And –“ Travers indicated the satchel Nicholson laid on the table “We’ve brought some reading for Giles.”

“What’s that?” Spike leaned against the wall, eyes fixed on Travers.

“The Council’s copy of the Pergamum Codex.” Travers saw no point in being coy, or lying. These people were, after all, the Council’s newest allies. While most of the Codex had been translated, there were still parts that, so far, had defied their efforts at translation. Perhaps Giles would have more success.

Additionally, Travers was convinced portions of it referred specifically to Buffy Summers.

“You’ve brought me the complete copy?” Giles held himself back, but only just. “Why?”

“I believe it will prove useful.” Travers allowed his gaze to travel from one ex-patriot to another.
“Indeed.” Giles wasn’t fooled. “How many?”

The older man sighed, his age beginning to catch up with his fatigue, motioning Giles forward. “At least four.”

“That many prophecies?” Wesley pointed to the satchel. “All regarding Buffy?”

“It is possible.”

Spike snorted, shaking his head. “Tha’s just bloody fuckin’ wonderful.”



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




Xander waited only a few moments for Wesley’s attention to drift toward the conversation in the dining room before grabbing the vase of flowers and heading up the stairs after the teenagers. The second floor hadn’t changed all that much from the days when he and the girls hung out all the time, but what changes there were, were dramatic.

Buffy no longer slept in her old room at the front of the house; instead she and Spike had taken over Joyce’s old room, while Connor used Buffy’s.

He could hear the soft murmur of voices coming from the master bedroom, so he followed the sounds. Completely uncertain of his reception, Xander hesitated before knocking.

Moments later the door was flung open and once again, Xander was face to face with an overly protective teen. Connor glared at him, his blue eyes full of distrust. “What are you doing up here?”

Buffy’s voice sounded from deep inside the room. “Connor, knock it off.”

“It’s that guy.” Clearly Connor wasn’t prepared to forgive Xander, even though he barely knew him.

Dawn caught sight of Xander in the doorway and lightly shoved Connor aside. “Hey, Xander.”

“Let him in, Connor.” Buffy pulled a light sweater on over her loose tank top as she walked toward the crib. “It’s okay.”

“Hey, Buffy.” Xander thrust the vase forward. “I brought flowers. And other gifts. But I left those downstairs.” He abruptly realized he was starting to babble, so he audibly shut his mouth.

The small, sad smile on his face brought Buffy up short. She recognized the expression – Xander was afraid of being rejected. She’d seen the look many a time on his face. A part of Buffy wanted to do just that, but she couldn’t. He’d somehow managed to return, offering to help her without even knowing the full story, which was a start. And it went a long way toward an apology.

So she gushed over the flowers, knowing they were a peace offering. “Oohh! So pretty.” Buffy took the vase, inhaling the scents deeply. “Thank you.”

Luckily, all the normal clutter which usually adorned her bedroom hadn’t returned, so there was room for the vase on the bedside dresser. Buffy placed it there, then gestured Xander toward the crib. “Come look.”

He’d watched her, his mind registering all the changes to the room, but mostly Xander marked the changes in Buffy herself. She was calmer, less anxious, and though she looked beyond tired, her smile was bright and real. Brighter than he could remember it being for a very long time. It was sobering; when he tried to recall the last time he’d seen that kind of smile on Buffy’s face, he couldn’t.

He followed her to the crib and let his eyes drift down. At first he didn’t actually see what she was exclaiming about, but then his brain processed the objects in front of him.

They were tiny. Pink cheeked and, oh, so tiny. “Ah! Little! Wow, Buff!”

Xander shut up again, aware he was spewing senseless word salad. Taking a moment to compose himself, Xander focused on the infants. When he finally had himself under control, he started whispering, “Congratulations, Buffy. They’re cute kids, even if they are Spike’s.”

Belatedly realizing he’d just stuck his foot in his mouth again, Xander started to splutter out an apology.

But Buffy was holding up a hand, laughter sparkling in her eyes. “It’s okay, Xand, I know you’re trying. But trust me,” she laughed, her eyes landing on Dawn, “We already knew Spike and I make pretty babies.”

“Huh? Wha? How?” Xander glanced from one Summers to another, clearly confused.

Connor laughed. “He doesn’t know? Dude, that’s funny.”

“Know what?” Xander’s bewildered expression had even Dawn snickering.

“The Initiative took DNA from me and Spike, which the monks stole.”

Buffy didn’t need to say anything more, because Xander immediately got the message.

“Wow. Huh.” He shook his head. “Huh.”



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



It took every ounce of restraint he’d ever possessed for Giles to resist snatching up the ancient volume. As it was, he could barely contain himself.

“Are you certain it’s an original?” He hesitated from reaching for it, allowing his hand to drop onto the table’s surface.

Travers opened the satchel carefully, drawing out the moment. “Althena and two others have verified its origins. As have two historians. I’m confident this is an original.”

“And you feel comfortable leaving it here?” When Travers merely nodded his head, Giles – and Wesley – breathed out a sigh of relief. “Very well.”

Gently pushing the deceptively small book across the tabletop, Travers explained his decision. “There are numerous prophecies contained inside these pages. And while some are quite cryptic, none are nearly as difficult as Nostradamus. You’ll find it fairly easy to interpret.”

He inhaled deeply, continuing, “That being said, there is, as you know, a series of quatrains describing a set of circumstances that could occur –“ He hesitated, his gaze drifting from one fellow Englishmen to another. “And we believe that sequence began with Miss Summers’ defeat of Glorificus.”

Travers let that hang in the air for a moment, eyes intently on Giles. “If that is the case, then you, Rupert, should have a Pergamum in your possession.”

The silence was all encompassing for long moments, until finally Giles broke it. “It’s been many years since I read the quatrains. Are you certain?”

As Travers was about to answer his question, Buffy’s voice broke into the conversation. “Certain about what?”

All eyes focused on her and she smiled, though it appeared a little forced. Unconsciously she patted the baby in her arms, repeating her question when no one answered. “What’s to be certain about?”

“The Pergamum Codex.” Wesley answered, pulling back one of the chairs for her to sit on.

“Gee, I haven’t heard of that one in a long time. What’s the big deal now?” Buffy sat, easing the infant down from her shoulder to cradle him in her arms.

“Travers is leavin’ us a copy.” Spike lifted the baby girl easily away from Dawn, ignoring her whiney protest.

“Oh. Great. Good.” Buffy mocked sarcastically, scrunching up her nose. “Can’t we have one day of basking and non-crisis-having before we run into the next big thingie?”

Wesley looked up sharply, catching the wistful look in Buffy’s eyes. Correctly reading her mood, he motioned to Giles, “Agreed. I’m sure we can sacrifice a few days of preparedness in order to bask in our current state.”

Giles snorted when Spike muttered, “Layin’ it on a bit thick, Oxford. Don’t go too overboard.”

Buffy’s “He’s just being nice, Mr. Gloomypants,” was drowned out by Wesley’s quick backtracking.

Several conversations broke out at once, but it was Dawn who finally brought the entire group around to what was, at least in her mind, the most important issue at hand.

“This is really kind of important and all, but could you please – please! – tell me what their names are?”

Everyone stopped talking, realizing that none of them knew – in fact, had no inklings at all – what Buffy and Spike were naming the babies.

Spike grinned, sharing a look with Buffy, though he let her do the talking. She lifted the baby up, showing him to everyone. “This is James Robert and that,” pointing to the baby in Spike’s arms, “Is Joyce Kirsten.”

Connor groaned, pushing at Dawn when she smirked and teased him with, “I told you so!”

Giles stared at Buffy for a moment, his glasses in hand and a smile on his face. “Lovely names, Buffy. James and Joyce.”

It took him scant seconds, but then Giles shook his head. “Really, Spike? James and Joyce?”

A big grin broke out on the vampire’s features and he shared a laugh with Wesley. “Didn’t take nearly as long as I ‘xpected it would.”

Laughter and congratulations filled the air, everyone bestowing kisses on Buffy and shaking Spike’s hand. Nicholson was the last to offer congratulations to Spike, but he’d designed it that way. The room was mostly quiet, though Anya and Tara were cooing over the infants, their voices soft and low. “Congratulations, Bayham.”

Spike stopped short, drawing attention. “What?”

Nicholson repeated himself. “Congratulations, Bayham.”

“Wait. What did you call him?” Buffy looked from one to the other, confused by Spike’s reaction.

“No one’s used that title in years.” A hard look entered Spike’s eyes and Nicholson blanched. “What gave you the notion to use it now?”

Nicholson cleared his throat, suddenly realizing his timing might have been faulty, though he was convinced by the reaction that his hunch was correct. “My apologies. Perhaps I am mistaken.”

Neither confirming nor denying whether Nicholson was incorrect, Spike asked him again, “An’ why did you think you could use it?”

“My great-grandfather was Sir William Gull.”

That was all he said, which drew strange looks from everyone, especially Wesley and Giles. Buffy wasn’t paying attention to anyone but Spike. His expression was caught between chagrin and something she would have called wistfulness. It was gone in an instant, though; his eyes darkening and the set of his jaw firming.

He growled out a question. “An’ that’s supposed to mean somethin’?”

“He kept copious notes in his journals, even after his stroke.” Before Spike could bluster his way out, Nicholson dropped another bombshell. “There were also some portraits.”

He hesitated a moment, adding, “There was also a lovely note from the dowager Marchioness of Camden.”

Their exchange caught everyone’s attention, but it was Wesley who interrupted first. “Doctor Gull? Wasn’t he suspected of being Jack the Ripper?”

Nicholson bristled visibly, snapping, “It wasn’t him. He’d suffered a massive stroke a few years before the murders and he couldn’t have done any of them.”

His vehemence was understandable, especially if, as he claimed, the man was his great-grandfather. However, it was Wesley’s comment that jogged some information in Giles’ head. “Did you know the doctor, Spike?”

Instead of answering him, Spike directed his answer to Buffy, his eyes never leaving her face. “Wanted to tell you this in time, Slayer. Not have you find out like this.”

He shifted the baby on his shoulder, feeling awkward and on display. “Sir William was my mother’s physician. She was sickly – had consumption. What you’d know as tuberculosis.”

Buffy nodded, letting him know she was following him, though the fear he’d confess to being Jack the Ripper was there, lurking in the back of her mind. His next words alleviated that fear. “Wasn’t me. Wasn’t Angelus, either.”

A deep sigh shook him and his smile was self-deprecating. “Wasn’t the same. Was a different sort of man.”

He was struggling with something, that much was clear. Rescue came from a very unexpected source. “My lord? Perhaps if I –“ Nicholson hesitated, but at Spike’s off-handed nod, he took up the story.

“My – Sir William Gull treated all sorts of patients, but was best known for being a Royal Physician.”

And suddenly, Buffy could see where this was going. Sparkles of mirth filled her eyes and a bright smile teased her lips. Everyone else was watching Nicholson except for Buffy and Dawn. Their gazes were fixed on Spike.

“The Marchioness of Camden was a widow, with adult children. Her oldest son, the Earl, had died before his son reached the age of ten. Her youngest son handled all the family’s estates. At least until he disappeared.”

“What year was that?” Giles asked the question, though he suspected he already knew the answer.

“Just after Guy Fawkes day in 1880. Isn’t that right, sir?” Nicholson looked to Spike for confirmation of the date.

Spike shrugged, not wanting to answer.

“Lady Anne was heartbroken, as she was very close to her son, William.”

Silence reigned for long moments. Comprehension was dawning, because all eyes riveted on Spike, who was becoming more and more agitated as the silence stretched out. Finally he exploded, “Bloody hell! Enough!”

He looked around helplessly for a moment, completely at a loss. His eyes settled on Buffy, who was staring back at him. “Was a very long time ago, pet.”

Before all the questions could start again, Spike dumped the baby into Dawn’s arms and stormed from the room.











Oh, I know, it's not really the end. But it is getting closer. At least two -- maybe three more chapters -- but not much more than that. I hope you've all enjoyed this, and aren't too angry with me for the delay. More will be coming shortly, I promise.