Origins: Revelations
by Niamh


[A/N: In every story, there’s a beginning, a middle and an ending. This then is the middle; whether or not this also constitutes the end remains to be seen. So much for a break in between these two stories. The title comes from that English band, you know the one – four guys?; and the quotes are as attributed. You should all know the drill by now, I own nothing, it all belongs to Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy and all those other big corporations that own a piece of the Buffy empire.]

Previously: Almost a month and a half ago, Willow did the highly improbable and brought Buffy back from the dead, ripping her from heaven in the process. Unfortunately, Willow neglected to retrieve her nicely, forcing Buffy to dig herself out of her own grave. Spike found her immediately following and brought her home. They are now openly living together, with the blessings of Giles and Dawn, while Tara and Willow’s relationship has hit the skids. Willow was forced to leave the Summers house, after giving Angel a head’s up about Buffy’s return, her manipulation of Tara being the real reason behind their split. This opens up...well, you’ll see.


Book Two, Chapter 1. A Day in the Life


The true harvest of my daily life is somewhat as intangible
and indescribable as the tints of morning or evening.
It is a little star-dust caught, a segment of
the rainbow which I have clutched.
Henry David Thoreau, Writings, vol. 2, p 239

He hath a daily beauty in his life.
Othello, act v, sc. 1



Three weeks of peace amid the onslaught of life on the Hellmouth. In that time, those precious three weeks, life in their house had settled into a semblance of normalcy. Well, as normal as a household consisting of the Vampire Slayer, her vampire boyfriend, her Key sister, and an every-day, garden variety witch could be.

Not long after Willow had moved out, Tara had opted to move into Spike’s basement bedroom just to get away from the memories, and with Spike’s help she’d transformed the room into something a bit more her style than his.

Joyce’s old bedroom was now empty, devoid of all furniture, and the two girls were still trying to come to an agreement about what to do with the room. Spike was doing his best to stay out of the argument, knowing if he were to side with either of the sisters, his love life would get that much more complicated.

Dawn had been uncharacteristically quiet in the last few weeks, which was prompting his current mission. She was once again locked in her room ignoring everything and everyone around her. Having no idea if this was normal for Dawn, or any teen-aged girl, just added to his unrest about the whole situation. Didn’t matter, because either way he was more than a little concerned and since Buffy was out with Tara, he figured it was a perfect opportunity to get Dawn to open up to him about what was bugging her.

Which was why he was knocking at her door just before three in the afternoon. “Dawn?”

He tried again, “Niblet? I know you’re in there. Wanna talk to you ‘bout somethin’.”

The stereo lowered and then the floor creaked under her feet. The lock clicked open and there she stood, hip thrown out to one side and a slight defensively defiant look on her face.

“Need to talk to you, Bit. Got a moment?” Spike leaned against the door jamb, his arms crossed over his chest, waiting for her to invite him in to talk.

“Spike, I’m in the middle of doing my homework, is this important?” Dawn shifted from one foot to another avoiding his direct gaze.

Not accepting her implied dismissal, Spike pushed past her into the bedroom. He glanced once at her bed, taking at face value the spread of books and paperwork strewn across the covers, not bothering to look any closer.

“Bit,” he started, then turned around, peering at her closely. “Is everythin’ okay?”

“What do you mean?” She sat on the edge of her bed, trying not to disturb the papers.

“Been awfully quiet lately. Somethin’ eatin’ at you?”

“Nope.” Then, changing her mind, she said, “Well, school’s kind of hard, I’m not…” She shrugged, trying to convey part of her confusion.

“Not fittin’ in?” He rested back against her desk watching her closely.

“Partially, still got Janice and…well, Kirsten’s not in any of my classes. In fact, I hardly see her anymore, and Janice has a boyfriend and I don’t really like him, and I get this creepy feeling sometimes that someone’s watching me and I just don’t fit in and all my classes are super hard and just…” Her voice trailed off into nothing and she kept her head down, studying her feet.

He was silent for long minutes, waiting for her to spill whatever else was bothering her. He knew there was more to this; just by the way she was holding herself.

She’d read three of the four journals cover to cover and had a fairly extensive amount of notes on other slayers and Spike, but little on her own background. The most recent journal she had ended before Buffy was born, so she doubted there was a whole lot of information in that one. She was just about to start reading the last journal when Spike had knocked on her door.

Dawn kept her eyes down, away from his all too perceptive gaze. The absolute last thing she wanted to talk about was really the only thing on her mind– well, that and Buffy.

“You’re not upset about me movin’ in are you?” Spike, for once, didn’t know what was wrong with Dawn and since she wasn’t talking, he could only guess that it was their living arrangements that were bothering her, especially since she clammed up about the same time Willow officially moved out.

“No!” Dawn looked up at him then. “You’ve been here all summer. Why would it bother me now?”

“Because of where I’m sleepin’.”

She snorted. “Gee, Spike, how long have you been in love with Buffy?” Waving off his retort, Dawn giggled. “So not upset by that. Saw that coming when you brought her back and she was all cling-to-Spike girl.”

Giggling harder at his look, Dawn said, “Not so worried ‘bout that, just glad she’s back, you know? Just wish she wasn’t so…is she gonna get any better?”

So that was her problem. Buffy. His girls weren’t as close as they were before and Dawn was feeling the lack of sister time.

“Getting better every day, Bit. Still hard for her, and with Rupert going back home for a bit, it’s bound to bother her.”

“She doesn’t talk about things with me.” Dawn’s disappointment was hard to disguise, not that she was trying all that hard.

Spike sighed. “Sis doesn’t like to talk about it at all. S’like it’s jus’ too hard. Can’t imagine what heaven must have been like, don’t imagine I’ll ever find out either.”

Moving around a bit, Spike continued, “Give her time, Bit, she’ll open up.” Looking at her once more, he said, “Is ‘at all?”

“Well…there is a guy…” Dawn giggled at the look on Spike’s face.

He growled once, then said through semi-clenched teeth, “Bring him round. Lemme suss things out, yeah?”

“I’m hoping he’ll ask me to Homecoming.”

On his way out the door, Spike repeated, “Bring him round. Then I’ll think about it.”

Once he was gone, Dawn locked the door behind him, diving back into her notes and the last journal.

The one thing weighing heavily on her mind– though she’d never tell Spike, at least not until she had more proof than she had right now- was that she was convinced Spike was her father. Her biological mother was still not certain. It could have been either Joyce or Buffy. She was thinking- hoping- it wasn’t Joyce.

Not that there was any doubt in her mind about how the monks had done it. It had to have been magic, because as far as she knew, vampires couldn’t have babies.


~*~*~


Five hundred years of existence, or nearly so, had not prepared her for any of this. Hands, feet, legs, everything. Belly…God, what a belly. Every last little part of her ached. But for all that pain, this was such a miracle. And it was all in danger. By her very nature, she put this child inside her in danger’s path. Once the infant was born, his soul would remain with him and she would once again be herself.

Soulless.

Once upon a time, she’d killed infants like the one she carried, slain their mothers while the babies struggled within their wombs or cried helplessly amidst the slaughter, blood, and gore. She hadn’t known.

Hadn’t understood what she’d done.

Darla understood it all now.

The enormity of over four hundred years of murder and wanton destruction weighed heavily upon her. Crushed her with near constant waves of overwhelming guilt and grief. Tears were her ever present companion– no solace to be found anywhere.

No absolution.

No forgiveness.

Her belly thumped, a hand or foot pushing against her taut skin, stretching it further out from the inside. Darla ran a soothing hand over the lump, humming softly to herself and the baby through her tears.

Time was running short. This baby, this boy-child created by her and Angel…this completely undeserved miracle would be born– and soon.

And Darla didn’t want to let him go.


~*~*~


Buffy was meeting Tara at UC Sunnydale, since the Slayer had decided she might want to think about going back to school for the next semester. Just thinking about it. She wasn’t really sure she was ready for it.

There was a lot she wasn’t ready for, but having everyone’s support was a big help– from Giles giving Spike a job to Tara cooking nightly to Dawn not acting out; it was good.

The myth that vampires slept all day had been shattered by Spike’s ability to function on a couple of hours every morning. He was usually up when she woke up, and though he was prone to napping around eleven, he was awake again no later than two. Since Giles had offered him the job, Spike was at the Magic Box by three, working until seven or so. So, if they kept to that pattern, come the next semester- provided she got scholarship money- she could take classes from ten until three, which fit in nicely.

But it was a huge ‘if’. Right now, Buffy thought, if I have to make a decision, it’s a world of no.

UC Sunnydale wasn’t a huge campus, not by a long shot, not by anyone’s standards, and yet here she was- in the main quad completely overwhelmed and trying to stop herself from wigging. Too many people milling around, bumping into her and Oh, God! Parker Abrams, that slug! had just walked right by her. Thank God he hadn’t seen her.

“Buffy?”

Oh no. No nonono… Whirling around at the sound of her name, she stopped short, literally, at the sight before her eyes.

“Oz?”

“Hey.” He smiled slightly at her stunned expression.

“Hey. How are you? When did you get back? Where’ve you been? What have you been doing?” Nervous babbling filled the air around them.

Pulling on his arm, she moved them out of the flow of foot traffic. His replies were mumbled as they moved. “Okay. Couple of weeks.”

At her confused look, he just raised an eyebrow. She smiled brightly, relieved to have found a familiar safe face to stave off the panic.

“Sorry, I’m babble-girl.”

He gave her his patented Oz grin, consisting of no more than just a mere raised lip, and sat down on the bench next to her.

“Got back a couple of weeks ago. Hooked up with the band. Been playing some gigs.” He squinted into the sunshine then continued, “What’s new?”

Buffy giggled nervously. What a can of worms that question was! “Um…well, lots. Where do you want me to start?”

There was one thing on his mind and both of them knew it, but both were afraid to bring it up for completely different reasons.

It was into that awkward moment that Tara stepped into view, calling, “Hey Buffy.”

Oz stiffened beside her, recognizing the other girl.

“Oh.” Tara shared a look with Buffy and then greeted him. “Hey, Oz. H-how are you?”

“Good.” He started to get up, but Buffy placed a hand on his arm.

“Oz, this is Tara.” And blurted out what was suddenly on all their minds. “Tara, who is no longer Willow’s girlfriend.”

“Whoa.” It spoke volumes that Oz actually raised his voice a bit.

Tara ducked her head, smiling at Buffy’s blunt declaration.

“Hey.”

They sat there, frozen for a moment until Buffy said, “Come home and have dinner with us.”

Looking from one girl to the other, Oz thought for a moment, then shook his head in agreement. Free food sounded good. “Sure.”

“Gotta make a stop first and then we’ll head home, okay with you?” Buffy asked cheerfully, happy now that this was going better.

“Sure.” He shrugged, pretty much willing to go with the flow.


~*~*~


Spike was in the basement, packing orders, getting them ready for shipping when he heard the bell tinkle upstairs indicating some new arrival. Glancing at the clock on the wall, he dropped one last handful of bio-degradable filler into the box, sealed it with packing tape, slapped an address label on it, and headed up the stairs to greet his woman.

Buffy was chattering animatedly to someone he couldn’t see and his nose couldn’t identify. It wasn’t Tara, because he could see her talking with Giles, while Anya was finishing a sale. Spying him before anyone else, she smiled then went right back to the customer.

He watched his golden girl, a smile playing on his features. Whoever she was talking to, she was comfortable with, apparently considering whoever it was a friend, because she was chattering away like he hadn’t seen her do since before her mother died.

Leaning against the counter, Spike just watched her, drinking in her presence. Every day he marveled at her, how she accepted him into her life, and how far she’d come since those first awful days back from the dead.

Buffy paused in her almost monologue, no longer ignoring the tingles his presence set off within her. Deciding she wanted to tease him a little, Buffy flipped her hair, then wiggled her hips a little, stretching her arms up over her head.

That strip of skin at the small of her back exposed by her stretch beckoned him. Her scent engulfed him as her emotions strengthened. Stalking up behind her, Spike knew she felt him because her body shifted, urging him closer.

Still standing away from her, Spike reached out a finger, running it across that stretch of skin. Goose bumps raised themselves at his touch and Buffy fought the shiver of arousal running through her muscles.

His hand brushed around her waist, pulling her back against him. Nuzzling into her hair, Spike whispered, “Hello, cutie.”

Buffy leaned further back against him, her hand caressing his, their fingers entwining.

Watching the display in front of him, Oz realized things had really changed. He wasn’t sure at first, but as he watched them his eyes confirmed what his sense of smell had deduced. Oz almost didn’t believe it when he’d caught a glimpse of Spike watching Buffy, a different kind of predatory gleam in his eyes.

Sighing a bit, Buffy turned in Spike’s embrace, her arms automatically spiraling around his neck, her whispered ‘hello, yourself’ sending a thread of arousal through him.

Realizing their audience was staring; Buffy kissed Spike then reluctantly broke from his embrace.

“Spike, you remember Oz, right?”

Ahhh. Now he did. Willow’s dog boy.

“Oz, I’m sure you remember Spike.”

Spike leaned over to shake the other man’s hand saying, “Welcome back.”

If Oz was surprised by the change in Spike it didn’t show. But then, Oz was never one for huge expressions.


~*~*~


The last journal was finished. She’d read it from cover to cover. Unfortunately, it did nothing to further her quest. The good news was that Giles was leaving tomorrow, going back to England because the Council was demanding his presence. That meant she’d be able to sneak into his apartment and steal another couple of books.

He wasn’t happy about it, but he really didn’t have much choice, since he was going for two reasons that she was aware of anyway, only one of which the Council was aware of. She’d overheard Giles telling Spike he was going to try and get the Council to give Buffy a stipend so that she wouldn’t have to go get a job, not that Spike wasn’t earning enough, but so that things would be a bit better.

Between Tara’s housing grant, Spike’s weekly poker winnings, and now the job with the Magic Box, money wasn’t so tight. She got a check monthly from Social Services, but the adults had decided not to dip into what they were calling her college fund unless things got dire.

Which was cool.

But right now Dawn was frustrated. And so not happy. So when the phone rang, she wasn’t at all pleasant-girl, until she realized who was on the other end.

And when he asked if she wanted to go to Homecoming with him, she played it cool, until she hung up the phone. That was when she squealed high enough to shatter glass






[A/N: Don’t worry, I’m going to get to all the juicy stuff soon, oh, and yeah, there will be some sex also. The title comes from the poem in the last chapter (here I go again re-using sources; but this time I paraphrased it a bit. Quotes as attributed, and everything belongs to someone other than me, except for the plot, that’s all mine]

Previously: Normal life goes on in Sunnydale, almost like the calm before a storm. Oz has found his way to the house on Revello Drive.



Book Two, Chapter 2. Clutching Stardust

Any idiot can face a crisis – its day to day living that wears you out.
Anton Chekov

Unbeing dead is not being alive.
e. e. cummings

Life is easier than you’d think;
all that is necessary is to accept the impossible,
do without the indispensible,
and bear the intolerable.
Kathleen Norris



Filling Oz in on what had been going on since his departure had left the werewolf more than a little confused. But, in typical fashion, he’d just taken it all in stride without commenting on any of it.

During the course of dinner, Oz discovered what had happened to Faith, learned about the arrival and subsequent departure of Riley- at least more than he’d known before- and about Dawn and Glory. Hearing about Joyce had made a small frown appear on his face, but hearing about Buffy’s death and Willow’s part in her return had disturbed him nearly as much as it had the others. And now, Spike was living here, openly part of a couple with Buffy. But for Oz, the really wiggy part of the whole evening was discovering how much he actually liked Tara.

There hadn’t been much opportunity for bonding during his last visit. Hadn’t been much desire for it, either. He’d watched her while they ate, seeing how comfortable everyone was, how much they were a family unit. Tara was the glue that held them together. He liked that, could appreciate it even.

And found himself wishing it wasn’t time to go when dinner was done and Buffy and Spike were getting ready to patrol.

Which kind of explained how he and Tara ended up talking most of the night, until it was nearly one in the morning, and why Buffy invited him to sleep on the couch when they’d gotten in a few minutes later.

~*~*~


They still hadn’t been able to dispatch the Cwn Annwn, though the nightly attacks had begun to dwindle. The number of bodies had dropped also, down to one or two per attack instead of the four or five previously.

Further research was another reason Giles was returning to England, and despite Buffy’s protestations otherwise, Giles knew he had to go.

Besides, it wasn’t a permanent move. This was just, at least in his eyes, a fact finding trip. The Council wanted a report from him and he needed information from them. Unfortunately, his list probably exceeded theirs by about five. Wesley had requested Giles scan the library for vampire pregnancies, which Spike had seconded, then there was the Cwn Annwn and Willow’s ritual and…he needed also, to know what, if anything, the Council knew about the monks.

What he’d read so far convinced him that the monks had predated Christianity by at least a millennia, subverting themselves by allowing their absorption into the Church for protection during the Middle Ages when the Inquisition was in full swing. The order had been formed, or so it seemed, for one purpose- to guard the Key and the gates from Glorificus and any other being with enough power and hubris to try wielding the Key.

Though the Council had stated they’d shared what information they possessed, Giles was not convinced of their honesty, which was why he had no intention of revealing everything he needed information about.


~*~*~


Oz woke to the sound of slightly raised voices. It sounded like Spike and Dawn were going at it in the kitchen. Unable to fall back to sleep, Oz listened, getting an idea about how close they were. They sounded like any parent and child discussing dates, which was kind of weird, considering Spike wasn’t Dawn’s father.

“Told you; wasn’t going to say yea or nay wi’ out meetin’ the boy.”

Something landed hard on a counter and Oz winced at the pitch of Dawn’s voice. “Why do you have to? It’s not like I’m gonna marry the guy. It’s just Homecoming.”

“Dawn, what’s his name?” It was hard to miss Spike’s exasperation with the teenager.

“Casey.”

There was silence, then a sigh, and the girl spoke again. “Fine. I’ll do it. But no going all ggggrrrrr on me, okay?”

“Let you know about that.”

And apparently the conversation was over, because silence once again reigned. Oz rolled over and went back to sleep.


~*~*~

They took turns getting up in the morning, making sure Dawn got up in time for school, and this morning it had been his turn. Dawn had ambushed him about Homecoming once she was dressed and ready to go, telling him only that the boy she wanted to ask her had.

Trudging back up the stairs to curl in beside Buffy, Spike ran a hand through his hair. He knew what Dawn was up to. It was fairly obvious. With his approval, it would be that much easier to get Buffy to agree, but he wasn’t going to cave on this issue. Spike was adamant about meeting the snot first, and if he made it through his ridiculously long check list, Spike would allow her to go.

Sitting on the side of the bed, Spike untied his boots, dropping them heavily on the floor, trying but failing to wake Buffy. She stirred, moving under the blankets, but didn’t wake up. Sliding off his jeans, Spike lifted the cotton sheet and blanket off her. Flesh colored lace with a faint tinge of lilac barely covered her rounded butt cheeks.

He grinned at the sight, his fingers grazing across the slope of her upper thigh, whisking over each globe. Buffy shifted one leg, bending it upwards, lifting her ass in the air. Spike took it for an unconscious invitation. Playing his fingers gently over her skin, he allowed his other hand to push up the scrap of lace she dared to call a nightgown. It barely covered her, leaving little for his imagination. Constructed of two thin strips of ribbon and nothing but lace, it was one of his favorite articles of her clothing.

Moving closer to her, Spike grinned as she moved into him, her face turning toward him. Barely there touches grazed her from behind, raising gooseflesh all over her back. Her legs twitched, her mound pressing against the mattress, a tiny whimper escaping her throat. His grin widened. Teasing both of them, he ran his fingers over her softly, slowly, his fingers moving ever closer to her molten core. She was liquid fire, especially there, burning hot. Buffy’s hips shifted again, quivering under his touch. The whimper morphed into a soft whine as she swam toward waking.

Spike wiggled two fingers around her center. “God, kitten…so wet…” His words breathed across her shoulder, answered by her murmur. “Open up for me love, let me in…”

Shifting a bit so he was looming over her, his mouth by her ear, he rumbled her name deep in his chest. “Buffy.”

Sleepily, she responded to his intimate touch, her eyes drifting open as he slowly, almost lazily thrust his fingers inside her. Her eyes opened, his name escaping from her lips, seeking his.

“Mmmm…there she is…my sweet one.”

Buffy gasped into the pillow beneath her, arching her bottom into the air, writhing slowly with each thrust. “Spike,” she practically moaned his name as he knelt between her thighs, his hand lifting her.

“Want you…want to be inside you…gonna let me in?” He leaned over her back, his words spoken against lace covered skin and interspersed with nipping kisses. “C’mon, beautiful girl…”

“Spike…please.” She was barely awake, sensations drowning her, his touch igniting her from the inside.

Still using only his fingers, Spike brought her to the edge, drawing her back as he raked his fingers from her warmth. Buffy’s hips were churning, seeking friction, penetration…something…

“Please, Spike…”

Pulling her back over his legs, Spike opened his knees, spreading her legs apart. His cock nudged at her from behind, making her whimper with need. His strong hands held her still, lifting her onto his hard length.

His name hissed in the air, ending in a half shriek as he slid all the way inside her. “Spike. Oh, God…oh…”

The grunts in her ear were driving her insane, his voice repeating her name over and over as he drove into her from behind, filling her up, hitting her just right. “Oh, God. Spike…please…need…to…”

Buffy grabbed the iron bars in front of her holding on. He was pounding into her now, hard and fast. “Spike…oh…”

A deep growl sounded from her throat, surprising him into stilling his movements. A breathless chuckle sounded in her ear as he nibbled on the nape of her neck.

“Love…” He thrust hard. “Come with me. So…God, kitten…love you.” Slow, hard grind of his pelvis into hers.

She writhed against him, seeking more. “Please…now…Spike.”

“Buffy…love you…beautiful girl…” Thrusting hard and fast again, Spike lost all pretense of control when her inner muscles constricted around him. His blunt teeth bit down hard on that spot where her neck met her shoulder and Buffy groaned in response. “Spike…wanna see you…”

Growling low in his throat, he slid from her depths and she rolled over to face him. Spike’s mouth was on hers instantly, their tongues battling against each other, his hard length sliding into her again. Her arms encircled his neck, wrapping around, holding on tight.

“Look at me, kitten.”

“Oh, God…oh, God…Spike…need you…want…” For once, Buffy was nearly as vocal as he was.

Her eyes never leaving his, Buffy bore down, convulsing around him. Staring into each other’s eyes, they exploded together. His whispered words echoed around her, “Love you so much, Buffy.”

Sliding down sideways onto the mattress, Spike lifted her hip over his, pulling her against his chest. “So much.”


~*~*~


Oz woke up for good sometime mid-morning to find the house quiet again. There was a note on top of his clothing from Tara. Reading it, he finally understood what had attracted Willow to Tara. She wasn’t the hottest looking girl around, but looks weren’t much really if you weren’t a beautiful person underneath. And Tara was.

There were homemade muffins and fresh coffee in the kitchen. All he had to do was turn the coffeemaker on.

Wandering into the kitchen he found everything where the note said it would be. She’s really thoughtful, kind, caring. I get it now, with Willow. Tara was not safe, but comforting. Something about her just drew the other person in, making the other person feel terribly important.

The phone ringing pulled him from his reverie and he thought about answering it, but he didn’t want to overstep his bounds. Didn’t really matter, because it stopped after three rings and the answering machine didn’t pick up, so he assumed that either Buffy or Spike had answered. Ten minutes later feet pounded down the stairs and Oz wasn’t surprised when a slightly disheveled Spike entered the kitchen.

“Hey.”

“Mornin’.” Moving toward the refrigerator, Spike motioned to the coffee pot. “How much is in there?”

“Dunno. Tara set it up.” Oz watched him pour some blood into a mug and then pop it into the microwave.

“Right, should be enough for all of us.” Waiting a beat, Spike asked, “Sleep all right?”

“Yeah.”

“Good, then.”

They stayed in comfortable silence until Buffy made her way downstairs, water dripping from her still wet hair. She smiled in appreciation when Spike handed her a mug of coffee, exclaiming, “Ooh, caffeine-y goodness.”

Spike rolled his eyes, hiding his grin at her good mood behind is own cup. Figuring now was as good a time as any, he mentioned Dawn’s impending date, then watched his girl panic.

“What?” Huffing a bit, she said, “A world of no. She’s not ready. No…I’m not ready.” Blowing cool air across the surface of her mug, Buffy said again, “No. So not ready for this. Does she have to?”

“Bit wants to go. She’s bringing him round so we can meet ‘im.”

Buffy made a face, thinking about this. “Spike, she’s too young.”

“She’s fifteen. ‘S not too young.” Spike waited for her to get to the point on her own.

She huffed again, giving in before his steady gaze. “All right. We’ll meet him.” Grabbing one of the muffins, Buffy turned her attention to Oz, asking, “Did you sleep okay?”

“Yep.”

“We’re headed to Giles’. He’s going to England today. You need a ride?”

“That’s cool. You can drop me near campus.”

Spike locked the back door then rinsed out his bloody mug and headed for the stairs, saying, “Car should be unlocked, but check before I run out there.”

Buffy went out the front door, opened the driver’s side of the DeSoto, then ran back into the house. Oz followed out the door, watching their crazy ritual. Every window on the DeSoto was blacked out, with bare strips in the windshield and on the side and rear windows, so that Spike could see out the mirrors.

Spike dashed out the door, covered in a dark blanket, hit the seat and slammed the driver’s door behind him. Buffy giggled a bit at Oz’ expression, saying, “It’s an adventure” as she locked the front door behind them.


~*~*~



Xander was running himself ragged. Between his job, planning the wedding that was still a secret with Anya, and now trying to spend time with Willow, he didn’t know if he was coming or going.

And he didn’t know if it was his imagination, or just the weirdness of life in Sunnydale, but it felt like stuff was going on around him that he just didn’t understand. Stuff with Willow, coz she was just getting more and more un-Willowy. She was talking to Amy. Amy the rat. And sometimes he thought she expected an answer. And Willow was always reading, okay, so that wasn’t really unusual, but he wasn’t so sure about what she was reading.

A couple of times he’d picked up special packages for her and the return address labels kind of spooked him. Like this last one that was sitting in his car. It was from Haiti and well, he didn’t think she knew anyone from there…and didn’t they practice Voodoo down there?

He just wasn’t sure what she was up to and he was kind of concerned, but he really wasn’t sure there was anyone he could talk to about all this, coz, well, he’d only seen Buffy a couple of times since they threw Willow out and Spike was always with her and he still didn’t trust the guy.

Anya didn’t want to hear about Willow either, or rather she was so focused on their wedding and Giles leaving that he just couldn’t talk to her about it.

In fact, he was finding it hard to talk to Anya at all.

He wished he had someone to talk to, because all this was just confusing him too much.


~*~*~


Buffy watched as Giles walked toward the boarding area, her hands clenched together in front of her, a pained expression on her face.

Spike wrapped his arms around her from behind, his chin resting on her head. “He’s comin’ back. Only goin’ for a month or so.”

“Is he?” Her voice was papery-thin and bleak.

“Said he was. Got no reason to doubt him.” He pulled her closer, his arms tight around hers. Buffy relaxed into his embrace gathering strength from his proximity.

“Yeah, I guess you’re right.” She sighed but didn’t move at all, just basking in his nearness. Tilting her head to the side, she glanced at him from the corner of her eye. “Have I thanked you yet?”

“For what?” She had his attention now.

“Everything you do for me. And Dawn.” Buffy turned slightly in his arms, her head resting on his shoulder. “Dunno how I would’ve managed. Don’t think it would’ve been pretty.”

“You’d’ve figured somethin’ out, pet.” He kissed the end of her nose, saying, “C’mon Slayer, I’ve got to go to work. Demon girl’s looking for a night of girl stuff.”

They headed out of the airport, toward the dark parking garage, not knowing about the wispy redhead following them.


~*~*~


She was meeting Casey at five and then together they were going into the Magic Box so Spike could meet him. That meant she had an hour to get into Giles’ and find some new journals. This time she was going to be very specific about what she took.

Dawn was done with taking chances. She needed to know. Sooner rather than later.

Unlocking the door, Dawn cautiously let herself into the apartment. She loved it here, it always smelled so good, but she supposed that was because Giles always had good things around him. Old books, good tea and not-so-stinky cologne, not like some other men.

Would’ve been hard not to miss the books, but since there were so many Giles had put them into a steamer trunk. The trunk was against the inner wall, close to the television, but far enough away from the window so that no one would notice them.

Kneeling down on the floor, Dawn quickly opened the trunk, pulling out volumes, sorting them by language and year. She rapidly found four fairly current volumes, but not the last one. The one she needed the most. Spying a small one nearly at the bottom of the pile, Dawn grabbed it. Opening it up, she glanced at a random page and stopped.

Blinking a couple of times, she went back to it.

Her sister’s name stared back at her and the date on the entry was Halloween two years ago. Snapping it closed, Dawn grabbed the others, stuffing them into her backpack. Shoving the rest of the books back into the trunk, Dawn had to force herself to calm down. Gulping in deep breaths, she finally calmed herself enough to stack the journals exactly as they’d been.

Locking up behind her, Dawn set off to meet Casey and, after that, to brave the lion’s den.





[A/N: I swear, I’m getting to the good stuff. Trust me. Title is a paraphrase of Oscar Wilde (oh that man was a wit – the quote reads “Questions are never indiscreet. Answers sometimes are.”) and the quotes are as attributed, and nothing belongs to me but the plot and some minor characters, otherwise it all belongs to someone else.]

Previously: Giles has gone back to England with a list of things do. Oz and Tara have bonded; Dawn’s traded the first set of journals for another. This picks up shortly after the last chapter.


Book Two, Chapter 3. Indiscreet Questions and Answers.

An ounce of blood is worth more than a pound of friendship
Spanish proverb

A child can ask questions that a wise man cannot answer
Anonymous




Anya had left detailed lists of instructions on such diverse topics that Spike had no recourse but to smile. Buffy was reading one of the lists, an occasional giggle escaping her. They currently had the shop to themselves; it being too early for the after work crowd just yet, and the after-school college kids and suburban moms ending their days.

Spike looked around surprised at how empty the shop was. But it was good, because he didn’t want to have a rush.

“Love?”

“Yeah?” She peeked over the edge of the list she was reading, a smile on her face.

“You okay w’Niblet doin’ this?” He had no idea why he was harping on it, but sometimes his mouth ran ahead of his brain.

“I guess. Just wasn’t really ready, but hey, it’s gonna be sooner or later, right?” Buffy made a little face, her unreadiness showing. “She’s gonna be okay, right?”

“Yeah.” Spike was fully prepared to not allow Dawn to go if the boy proved unworthy, or if something was off, even just a little something.

He was still thinking about just what kind of things he could do to the boy when the phone rang. “Magic Box.”

“May I speak with Rupert Gi…Spike?”

“Oxford?”

“Yes, it’s me. How come you are there?”

“Giles left this mornin’.”

“Damn. I was hoping to catch him before he left. He’s got his cell with him, right?”

“Yeah. Oxford, what’s goin’ on?” Spike had picked up on the anxiety in Wesley’s voice.

“Darla’s in labor.”

Spike released a long breath. “What…is everythin’ normal?”

Buffy had gotten up, coming closer, listening to his side of the conversation.

“Unknown. We think its normal, but we can’t be sure.”

“Keep us posted.”

“Will do.”

They hung up simultaneously.


~*~*~


Wesley wasn’t sure what constituted normal labor for a vampire, nor had he ever been present during a human labor. He had no idea about the mechanics of the process and none of the others were prepared. However, unlike some of the other members of AI, Wesley had at least read a book on the subject. According to their calculations, Darla was about at term, give or take a week. Unsure what to do next, since Rupert was currently incommunicado; Wesley consulted ‘What to Expect When You’re Expecting’ and figured they needed to eliminate false labor pains.

Forcing Darla into the shower, Wesley waited, hoping this wasn’t the moment.


~*~*~


They were sitting at the table talking about Wesley’s phone call when the doorbell tinkled, signaling a new arrival. Both of them looked up, Spike automatically getting to his feet while Buffy stared at her sister and the boy behind her. It was obvious to the older two that the teenagers were very nervous. The boy stood to Dawn’s left, his hands stuffed into his pockets, while Dawn shifted her feet, her eyes darting between the two people who held the most control over her.

Taking pity on her sister, Buffy said, “Hey, Dawn.”

Returning the greeting, she started down the steps toward the table. Throwing a glance over her shoulder to her prospective date, Dawn smiled at him and he followed her slowly. “Buffy, this is Casey.”

The boy Dawn was introducing had sun-streaked blond, kind of wavy hair, dark blue eyes, and braces. He was taller than Dawn, about the same height as Spike, kind of on the thin side. His features were even, nose not to big, forehead not to pronounced, chin not too weak. Casey was, all in all, a typically normal teen-aged boy. Taking him in from top to bottom, Buffy had to suppress a giggle. He was so clearly nervous because he wouldn’t look her in the eyes at all, just kind of politely said hello.

“Casey, this is my sister, Buffy.” Glancing once at the still form of Spike, she continued, “And her boyfriend, Spike.”

At the name, Casey’s head reared up, eyes widening slightly at the sight of him. Reaching out a hand, Spike was pleased when the boy took the hint and extended his in a handshake. “Hello, sir.”

Buffy suppressed the inappropriate giggle that was threatening. Sensing her amusement, Spike just said hello back to the boy, then sent her a pointed look. Better the boy fear him than think he was a pushover, because this one was all human, not a hint of demon about him, and that meant Spike couldn’t do anything other than intimidate the hell out of him. Which wasn’t hard.

His raised eyebrow was enough to get the boy talking, because he said, “Dawn talks about you. Well, both of you.”

As if embarrassed about mentioning it, Casey looked over at Dawn, smiling at her. She was struggling not to scream at both of them to not make this any harder than it already was, but she grinned a little bit when Casey realized she was struggling with her backpack and he helped her.

Two, well, almost three points in the boy’s favor. Spike was quickly reassessing his original thoughts about the boy. He’d worried that Dawn would have brought home, at worst, someone with demonic origins, if not an outright demon. In one respect it would have been easier, because he could take care of demons, but on the other, it wouldn’t have been good for Dawn or Buffy.

Casey shifted his feet, nervous now that there was no conversation, unsure of what to do or say. Throwing a nervous glance at Dawn, he sat down after she did, his hands clasped loosely on the table in front of him.

God, this is so awkward. Why did he want to do this? Dawn sent a frosty glance at Spike, which he completely ignored. Instead, he tried to come up with something to talk about.

It was Buffy who finally broke the ice. “Casey, did you grow up in Sunnydale?”

“No, we moved here from New York about six years ago.”

Spike’s ears perked up at that. “Where ‘bouts in New York? I lived there for a bit, long time ago.”

“Um, outside of the city. We lived out on the island.”

Leaning against the ladder, Spike said, “Lived down in the village.”

Buffy cleared her throat, forestalling any real sharing of Spike’s memories of the village, and he just grinned at her, knowing full well what she was doing.

“When’s this dance, Ni…Dawn?” Spike was done with the conversation, moved to let the boy off the hook by the expression on Dawn’s face, when things started getting uncomfortable again.

“Saturday,” was Casey’s answer, which surprised everyone, including himself.

“Doesn’t give you much time to get ready.” Buffy looked at Spike, wondering how much money this was going to cost both of them, and how much they actually had to spend on this.

“I was afraid Dawn was going to say no.” The boy looked a little embarrassed to admit it, but the smile on Dawn’s face was enough to tell Spike that he had been foolish to worry about it.

“Can we go?” This was torture and she had to get out of there, otherwise she was going to end up shrieking the shop down, piercing eardrums for a five hundred yard radius.

“To the dance?” Spike looked at the pair of them, then Buffy. Waiting for a signal from her that she was okay with this, Spike smiled when she reached for his hand. “One condition.”

“Spike.” Dawn’s soft whine was all she would permit herself in front of Casey, but it got her point across.

“No debatin’ it.” He crossed to where Buffy was sitting, his hands dropping to her shoulders, an implacable look on his features.

Sighing loudly, she gave in. “Okay, what is it?”

“I’ll pick you up when it’s time to leave.”

At least he’s not insisting on being there the whole time. “That’s it?” It was better than what she’d first thought he was going to say or what he might have said to Casey. Looking toward her date, she wondered what he was thinking about all this, but he stayed silent, looking to her for an okay on this condition. “Okay, Spike.”

“Good.” He squeezed Buffy’s shoulders, gazing down at her, a smile playing about his lips. “You girls goin’ shoppin’ then?”

Knowing he’d managed to please one of the girls in his life, Spike did what he could to ease the thoughts of the other. “C’mere, pet.”

Effortlessly helping her to her feet, Spike led Buffy over to the counter, whispering the whole way. “Watcher left some extra dosh in case we needed it. Got it here. Take her out for a bit, and I’ll worry ‘bout the rest later, yeah?”

Winding her arms around his neck, Buffy kissed him, whispering back, “Thanks for not going so hard on her about this.”

“I get a reward for bein’ good?” He leered at her, his tongue against his teeth, mischief clear in his eyes.

“Later. . . . promise.” Buffy collected her bag, motioning for her sister to get up. “C’mon Dawnie, we’re going shopping. Casey, it was really nice to meet you.”

“Thanks.” Looking at Dawn, Casey said, “I’ll call you later, okay?”

Spike watched as the girls walked out the door. Calling the boy back to talk to him for a minute, Spike waited until the girls were gone before speaking.

“Dunno what she’s told you ‘bout me, but you don’t wanna get on my bad side. You take care of my girl, treat her right, an’ you won’t have to worry ‘bout it. Hurt her, an’…” He didn’t let the demon out, but Spike got a flinty look in his eyes. “You won’t know what hit you.”

To his credit, Casey didn’t back down, didn’t flinch at all when Spike started speaking. His only comment to Spike was, “I’ll do my best.”

And Spike let him go, knowing it was the best he could do.


~*~*~


Instead of heading to the mall, remembering the disaster that was their first shopping expedition, Buffy headed to some of the smaller dress shops that were on Main Street, not too far from the Magic Box.

Dawn was trailing behind her, watching over her shoulder for Casey to leave. She was kind of worried what Spike was gonna say to Casey when he was alone with him, knowing the vampire wasn’t going to let things go as easily as they had. He’d just been playing nice for her sake, to not embarrass her in front of him.

Finally realizing Dawn wasn’t walking beside her, Buffy turned around and headed back to where the younger girl was standing. “Dawnie?”

“He’s still in the shop.” Turning to her sister, Dawn asked, “Do you think he’s gonna scare him?”

“Maybe. Just a little bit?” Buffy wasn’t sure either, but as they were discussing it, the shop door opened and Casey walked out, all in one piece and not looking too scared.

Breathing a sigh of relief, Dawn watched as he headed off toward his house, never once realizing the girls had been watching for him the whole time. “Let’s go.”


~*~*~


Dealing with the smaller shops had been a smart move. They found a dress for Dawn in the second shop, shoes and the rest in the next shop. Easier than last time. Buffy was so embarrassed about that, she’d made Dawn promise she wouldn’t ever tell anyone, not even Spike. Bags in hand and a plan for dinner, they made their way back to the shop, chattering excitedly at each other. But in the back of her mind, Buffy was still thinking about what had happened that first time, realizing she was making progress.

Then, the bright lights and all the people had sent her into a panic, causing her to hyperventilate and nearly pass out in the middle of the mall. The really embarrassing part was that she had just stood there, crying, unable to tell Dawn what was wrong, and the whole time every bit of her had been screaming silently for Spike. Dawn hadn’t known what to do either and in her confusion she’d started yelling at Buffy and the situation had just gone from bad to worse. “Dawnie? I’m sorry about last time.”

“No biggie. I goofed, too.” Smiling over at her, Dawn made a face. “Guess you weren’t ready then.”

“Nope. But I had fun tonight.” With a cheerful answering smile, Buffy continued, “Major shopping goodness, since we got everything you need.”

“Yup. Do you think Spike’s gonna wig when he sees the dress?”

“Dunno. We’ll just have to hide it from him until Saturday.”

Dawn had found a dress, but it was blue, which just brought back memories of Glory and she’d balked until they found a similar dress in red. Well, it was more of a wine color. She just hoped Spike wouldn’t give her a hard time about it.

Three days until the dance. “OH! What about my hair?”

Putting their heads together, the girls headed into the shop, talking about hairstyles and makeup.


~*~*~


Willow had watched them say goodbye to Giles in the airport, a calculating look upon her face. She’d followed them to the Magic Box, then left to head back home.

One support gone. Giles leaving was of the good. He’d set up wards around the shop and his apartment and started setting them up around Buffy’s house. All they did was prevent her from wandering in as invisible girl, so they weren’t even all that elaborate.

But they existed. And Willow knew they were aimed specifically at her.

It wasn’t time yet. Soon enough and she’d prove to Giles that his little wards weren’t enough to keep her out and then she’d prove to Buffy that Spike was only playing at being a good guy.


~*~*~

Rupert couldn’t help thinking that he was leaving too much undone. Even though he’d checked everything more than once. He still had that tingle at the back of his neck that always signaled bad news. Perhaps it was just what had transpired the last time he was on a plane, or perhaps it was trepidation over dealing with the Council.

Or maybe it had been the look in Buffy’s eyes.

She was obviously very upset at his leaving. And nothing he’d said had reassured her in the least. Thank heavens for Spike. If the other Englishman wasn’t around, Giles’ fears over leaving would have increased immeasurably. His unwavering support of Buffy in the last couple of weeks solidified Giles’ belief that the vampire would do anything to keep the girls safe.

When he’d first pitched the idea of him working, Spike had just kind of looked at him strangely. But as he’d laid out his reasons to the younger man, Giles had seen the moment Spike understood.

He was only asking Spike to do it for now, while Buffy got used to being back, and then Buffy would take over. This way, she’d have some money coming in and she wouldn’t have to worry about the utilities or the mortgage. It would also put the mail order and the shop in trusted hands.

Rupert focused on the list, instead of that sense of impending doom. It was going to be hard enough keeping things from the Council without the added distraction of worrying about what he’d left behind.

~*~*~

They were out patrolling. Tara was downstairs studying. It was now or never. The wait had been too long, anyway. Dawn locked the door to her bedroom and fished out the last journal.

It was easily the smallest and latest of all the books she’d chosen so far. Closing her eyes in a silent prayer that the answers would be found within, Dawn settled herself on the bed and began to read.

Four hours and thirteen minutes later, she found what she’d been searching for. It was there. The answers.

And it had been just as she’d suspected.

The damn monks had engineered it all somehow.

From the placing of the Gem of Amara in Sunnydale, to Spike’s discovery of it. From the Initiative capturing him, to their taking of all sorts of DNA samples.

They’d done it all.

Taken something of Spike’s and something of Buffy’s…and magically constructed her.

Now that it was there in black and white and in Prior Raymond’s handwriting, Dawn almost didn’t believe it.

She was theirs.

Their flesh.

Her blood.

Dawn lay down on her bed and cried.





[A/N: Here we go folks, things start to get bumpy from here on in. Parts of this chapter are taken directly from Angel the Series, episode 53, written and directed by Tim Minear, because to do anything else would take away from the writing and the performances of the actors. All praise goes to Julie Benz, who took words given to her and transcended them, giving an absolutely sublime performance. The title is from the poem of the same name by Robert Louis Stevenson (ah yes, another Scot and another re-used source). And the quotes are as attributed. Disclaimers are in full force and effect and I don’t own anything.]

Previously: Dawn brought Casey to meet Buffy and Spike, who gave their okay about Homecoming; Darla’s in labor and feeling the weight of her past. This starts the afternoon of the dance...



Book 2, Chapter 4. Farewell, Fair Day and Fading Light

But what minutes!
Count them by sensation,
and not by calendars,
and each moment is a day.
Benjamin Disreali

You must have been warned against letting the golden hours slip by;
but some of them are golden only because we let them slip by.
James Matthew Barrie




Spike was downstairs watching a repeat of an old Premier League update that was at least half a week old. It was the second time he’d watched it, but he would rather be doing what he was than dealing with the hen party upstairs.

They were making his Niblet into something else and he wasn’t so sure he liked the idea. It was only four in the afternoon, he couldn’t imagine what was going to take this long, the dance wasn’t until seven. No one needed three hours of prep time. Especially not someone as pretty as his girl.

He must have fallen asleep, because Premier League wasn’t on any more, some other inane program was on and the sun was already down. Glancing at the time on the television, Spike realized it was nearly time for the pup to arrive.

As if on some sort of cue, the doorbell rang. Running a hand over his face, Spike got up and answered the door. There he was, decked out in a penguin suit, flowers in hand.

“’Lo.”

“Hello sir.”

Purposely not saying the words necessary for an invitation in case the boy’s status had changed in three days, Spike just gestured him in.

Casey walked inside the door, clearly nervous. “My Dad’s outside waiting for us.” Then he made a face and admitted, “Actually, both my parents are here.”

This was such unfamiliar territory for Spike, but he knew what was proper and what wasn’t. “Bring them in.”

Casey bounded out the door while Spike bellowed up the stairs. Tara’s voice floated down as Casey and his parents came to the door. They followed the boy in and Spike introduced himself as Will.

“Girls ‘ll be down in a minute.”

The father, Jim, declined the offer of a drink, but the boy’s mother, Loretta, accepted his offer of iced tea.

Retreating to the kitchen, leaving them alone in the living room, Spike took his time. The longer the girls took, the more agitated he was becoming. Finally, as he was done stalling, he heard footsteps on the stairs.

Glinda.

Breathing an unnecessary sigh of relief, he wandered back into the living room with the mother’s drink. Introducing Tara only ate up a few moments, but by the time he was finished, Buffy was on her way down the stairs, Dawn a few steps behind her.

Glancing up at the stairs, Spike could see the strain on Buffy’s features, though she tried to hide it. He could also smell the distress- and pain- his girl was in.

“Buffy?”

She smiled at him, which was clearly taking an effort, and mouthed “later” at him.

Motioning behind her, Buffy moved out of the way, revealing an all too grown up Dawn. Spike gulped.

“Niblet?” He almost didn’t believe his eyes.

She was nervously biting her lip, waiting for his reaction. Reaching out a hand to help her down the last steps, Spike whispered, “You’re beautiful, pet. All grown up.”

And she was.

Her hair was a mass of curls, lifted away from her face, which was made up perfectly. The curls cascading down her back were held up by jeweled clips artfully arranged around her temples. The dress was a high neck halter gown of deep wine red and she had a matching cashmere scarf draped around her shoulders. A tentative smile crossed her features at his words and she glanced at Buffy who smiled in answer.

The next few moments were a blur of flashbulbs and good natured laughter, all of which sped past him too quickly, and then the teenagers and parents were gone.

Buffy slumped against the wall while Tara sat on the stairs. Spike looked between the two, unsure what to do next. He watched in disbelief as Buffy crumpled to the floor, a soft sob breaking from her throat.

“Kitten?”

“That was so hard.” Looking up at him from her spot on the floor, Buffy gave into the tears she’d been fighting all day. “And I really don’t feel good.”

Crouching down in front of her, Spike reached out to pull her into his arms. “What’s wrong, sweets?”

“Cramps.” She sniffled once or twice, expecting him to get it. Unsure for a moment, Spike inhaled and immediately understood. “Aww, sweetheart, c’mere.”

Gathering her into his arms, Spike lifted her up from the floor. “C’mon, goldilocks, into the shower with you.”

Tara moved away from the stairs, letting them pass. Watching the two of them, she called out, “I’m heading out, I’ll be home later.”

And they were alone.

~*~*~


It was dark now, only the bright artificial lights illuminating the night sky. There was a steady breeze up here, but that was only because of the height of the building. Darla watched the night sky around her, hand cradling her huge belly, tears in her eyes. She felt him approach, his scent assaulting her over-sensitive nose.

He spoke without looking at her. “You always did love a view.”

She returned the favor, her eyes on the distant lights, the faint smell of car exhaust and palm trees wafting in the air around them. “Can you smell it? This world. This horrible world. Why would anyone want to bring a baby into it?”

He sighed a little bit, turning to look at her. “To make it better, maybe?”

Darla laughed ironically. “Or to destroy it, finally.”

Angel got irritated with her, just as he’d been getting with everyone else, since word of the ‘prophecy ’ had surfaced. He wasn’t so sure the prophecy even applied to this baby, so why was everyone else insisting it? “Why is it everyone insists on planning my son’s future before he’s even born?”

Moving away from him, Darla tried to escape his presence, escape everything. This is not what she had thought would happen, never even dreamed it once, probably not even when she was human, all those long centuries ago. And recently? She’d had a few other things on her mind more pressing than babies and a future. “It doesn’t have a future. Not with me. Angel, I can’t have this baby.”

He was floored. It was a little late to be thinking those kind of thoughts. “What?”

“I can’t let it out. I…just…I can’t.” The tears she’d been fighting finally surfaced, pooling in her eyes. At his look, she continued, “I know. It wants out. I can feel it. It’s ready. It’s time…but I just can’t let it. I can’t let it because…because…”

Angel finally understood. Or at least thought he did. “You love it.”

Shaking her head in agreement, Darla fought the tears clogging her throat. “I don’t think I’ve ever loved anything as much as this life that’s inside of me.”

It was almost funny. If the situation had been any different, Darla admitting she loved their baby would have been funny. But it wasn’t. “You’ve never loved anything or anyone, Darla.”

“I never did, ‘til now.” She brushed aside his somewhat nasty comment, knowing it was the truth, but no longer having the strength to fight about it. “I don’t know what to do.”

“You do what you have to do. You’ll have it and then…” He was at a loss for a further explanation. He knew what he wanted, what he hoped for, but he wasn’t sure at the moment that any of this was possible. It hardly seemed impossible either.

She snorted a little bit in disbelief at his naiveté. “What, we’ll raise it? Be a happy family?”

“Why not?” His response almost made her laugh.

“Why not? Angel, have you been paying attention? I’ve nothing to offer this child. Nothing. Nothing but an ugly death.” He was so blinded by the miracle that he wasn’t seeing anything in terms of reality. It was her job, her responsibility to point those things out. She had to, for the sake of this baby.

“No. What I do know is that you love this baby. Our baby. You’ve bonded with it. You’ve spent nine months carrying it, nourishing it…”

Darla laughed through her tears. “No…no. I haven’t been. I haven’t given this baby a thing. I’m dead. I can’t nourish him. It’s been nourishing me. These feelings that I’m having, they’re not mine. They’re coming from it.”

Angel was willing to dispute that. He knew she had some feelings, he was sure of it. “No. You don’t know that.”

Shaking her head in disagreement, Darla said, “Of course I know it. We both do. I don’t have a soul. It does. And the soul…that soul is inside of me, but soon it won’t be, and then…”

Her tears finally, broke completely, sliding down her face. Her voice sounded a soft sob and she looked so wretched and distraught that there was nothing for it but to hold her. “I won’t be able to love it. I won’t even remember that I loved it. Won’t remember how to…and I want to remember. Oh, God, Angel. I want to remember that I love this baby.”


~*~*~


By the time he got her up the stairs and into the shower, Buffy had run the gamut of emotions, one second weepy, the next complaining, and then finally back to weepy again as she whispered against his skin, “Sorry I’m psycho-Bufffy.”

He grinned, wondering what her reaction would be if he described some of Dru’s frequent less-than-lucid moments. She’d never apologize again for being psycho anything. “‘S all right love. No worries.”

Shouldering his way into the bathroom, Spike dropped her onto the vanity. “Gonna get you set up and you should be fine, okay?”

Turning woeful eyes up at him, she nodded yes, but he knew it wasn’t all right. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. Everything. I dunno.” She sniffled into his shirt, her hands fisted in the soft cotton material. “Not sure. Just…sad.”

“Anythin’ in p’ticular?” He kissed the top of her head and turned away to see to the taps and get the water hot enough to make a difference for her. She was silent, content for a little bit to just watch him. He was so…he enjoyed this, Buffy realized. He liked being needed and taking care of someone.

“No,” she huffed, realizing she sounded like a little girl. “Just not feeling so hot.”

Spike looked at her for a long minute, not saying anything. The shower sounded like comfortable rain in the background, the warm air curling around the two of them, reeling them in and increasing the intimacy between them.

“Want me to wash your back?” He wasn’t leering at her, but it was a near thing, she could tell by the tone of his voice.

Wrinkling her nose, Buffy said, “Eew, Spike, I’m all…it’ll be messy and bloody and…”

“Buffy…vampire here. Bloody and messy is fine…more than fine.”

She looked down at her feet, trying to hide the blush that was staining her cheeks, but he could smell her, every last little thing about her, smell the shampoo she used this morning, the makeup and scents she’d used with Dawn, and under it all, the scent of her growing arousal mixed with the heady fragrance of her blood. Moving closer, his voice just a gravely murmur, Spike stood between her legs, his hands reaching out to caress her skin. His hands tugged on the loose ponytail, releasing her hair to float all around her, fingers massaging the back of her neck. All thoughts of tears were gone, dried up in the heat surrounding them, his touch driving away the momentary sadness. He engulfed her, sent her outside of herself, away from all fear and pain, no sadness, no regrets, the sorrow at being back here long gone in the face of his devotion and care and his touch. He grounded her, brought her back from the brink time and again, giving and giving, never once worrying about how much she had to give in return. He asked only for her nearness, her acceptance.

Buffy looked down at herself, seeing her bared breasts in his strong hands, calloused and scarred, watching as he molded them, almost feather light touches raising gooseflesh everywhere. His mouth captured hers and she forgot to think, nearly forgot to breathe. Spike’s hands were still molding her breasts, his thumbs flicking across her nipples. Arching her back, she broke the kiss to watch his hands on her. Wet kisses trailed from her lips down her neck, nipping gently on her skin. Her eyes never left his face, gazing at him as he wrapped his tongue around a hardened nipple. Blunt teeth bit down, tugging at her gently.

Leaning further away, one hand gripping the edge of the vanity, Buffy was almost offering herself up for his mouth to taste. More kisses trailed downwards. At her waistband, he moved sideways, nipping at her exposed flesh. Glancing up at her, Spike was surprised to see her eyes opened watching him. Mischief flickered in his and before Buffy could prevent him from going any further, Spike began nuzzling his way further down her body. His bites, even with her clothes between them, were electric.

Big hands pulled her forward so his face could nudge closer into her. “No…Spike…”

Sliding his fingers down the back of her waistband, Spike bit hard at the apex of her thighs, sending a jolt of want straight through her. Whining his name softly, Buffy bucked her hips closer to him, wrapping her legs around his torso. Dropping to his knees, he pulled her to the edge of the vanity, his opened mouth bites trailing over her still clad mound.

“Spike…no…God…Spike.” Her free hand fisted in his hair, holding him close and trying to push him away. This was so…“Spike.”

He was drunk, wanting nothing more than to drink her in, reeling from the scents surrounding them, the heat, her little gasps and whimpers of protestation and want, lost in the moment. “God…kitten…please…let me…want you…all of you…please, love…”

Whispered deep pleadings rang in the air between them, his fingers digging into the soft skin of her butt. Her heels pressed into his back, belying her words of protest, urging him closer.

Tiny fingers pulled at his hair, holding him against her, her whimpers of pleasure overtaking her deeper protests. Pulling away from her, Spike nipped her knee, then moved her off the vanity. His head slumped against her belly, swimming in the scents covering her. His hands pushed down her loose pants, exposing her, giving him more skin to nuzzle.

She kicked off her shoes, her hands reaching for his shirt. Leaning into him, Buffy let her arms wrap around his now bare shoulders. Spike rocked back, lifting her clear of the pants pooled at her feet. His mouth captured hers and he let go of her when his back hit the floor, letting her hold herself up away from him.

Their hands tangled together as they both reached for his boots and jeans, desperate now to be skin to skin. A deep chuckle sounded in the air as they managed to get him half naked, but one boot stuck as the jeans slid down his hips.

Rolling Buffy off his chest, he sat up, practically ripping the laces open and violently kicking off his boot, sliding off the jeans in one swift movement. Leaning over her, Spike’s mouth captured a nipple, sliding his free hand down her torso. Wasting no time, his mouth followed its earlier path downward.

“Spike.” But before he allowed her to stop him, he sucked her clit into his mouth, grinning as his name ended in a little shriek.

Buffy’s hips lifted, arching into his mouth, her hands fisting in his hair. “Oh…God…Spike…don’t…stop…oh…”

She tasted like nothing he’d ever had before. Rich wine, smooth whiskey…virgin’s blood…nothing compared to the taste of her. His hands gripped her thighs, fingers digging in, holding her open for his mouth. Tongue circling her clit, Spike groaned into her, feeling her muscles begin the dance, signaling her climax.

Buffy was beyond speech, beyond thought, beyond anything but the feel of his mouth, his tongue, his teeth on her. His tongue was circling around her core, lapping at her like cat, gathering all the moisture. Her shrieks nearly pierced his ears when his tongue finally penetrated her, the bathroom echoing with the sound of her voice, the mewling cries of release. She was shaking, writhing under his touch, her body his to play.

“Oh…oh…gaaaah…Spiiiiike…”

Seeking something to hold onto, her hands scrabbled over the floor, over her own hips, squeezing his fingers, pulling on his hair. Nothing worked, she couldn’t gain purchase, couldn’t find anything solid to hold on to. His nose butted against her clit and she softly screamed his name. Using blunt teeth, Spike nibbled at her clit, sending her over. “Oh…God…Spike…OH…oh, God…”

She was still convulsing when he slid his erection into her pulsing warmth, pumping into her hard. “Love you…” Wet kisses rained over her face. “So fucking much…always.”

Her legs came up around his waist, her arms encircling his shoulders, holding him close. “Spike…please…inside me…please.”

Locking her ankles, Buffy held him in, allowing him only short shallow strokes that hit her clit every time. Her mouth tugged on his earlobe, her voice scarcely more than a ragged whisper. “Please, Spike…cum inside me…now…please.”

Pounding furiously now, Spike groaned, her pussy tightening around him. “Love…Buffy…now…kitten…with me…now.”

Her third orgasm slammed into her, seizing every muscle in her body, her fingernails leaving bloody marks on his shoulders and sending him over the edge. His balls tightened painfully and Spike exploded into her, his grunts filling her ears, her name on his lips like a prayer.

Slumping together in an exhausted tangle of legs and arms, they were both undone.


~*~*~


Dawn was having the time of her life. Everything was perfect. The dance was okay, the music wasn’t too bad, Casey brought the right flowers, his parents didn’t stick around to watch them enter the gym, and best of all, Spike hadn’t wigged completely when she came down the stairs.

She had spent all the time while Buffy and Tara worked on her hair and makeup, silently pleading with the Gods of First Dates that Spike wouldn’t lose his mind and make her change her clothes when he got a look at her in the dress. Not that it was all that revealing. It had a low open back, but the collar was high and the bottom long, the side-slits weren’t up to her thighs, only cut to just above the knees, and she wasn’t made up like a hooker. Not that her sister and Tara would’ve done that to her, anyway. But she’d still breathed a huge sigh of relief when Spike had said she was beautiful. And all grown up.

The look in his eyes had been awed and amazed at the changes the other two had made to her everyday look. She’d tried so hard to look sophisticated and not like a little girl, hoping that Spike would acknowledge it, at least a little bit. Thank you, Gods, thank you… thank you. Now let the rest of the night go just as well.

Looking over at her date, Dawn figured she had one thing in her favor, coz he was just the cutest boy she’d ever seen.




This is for Wolfspider, because tomorrow is her birthday and she asked so nicely for this. My thanks to everyone who's reviewed (it all means so much) but special thanks to Addie, Ariadne, AmyB, Bloodshedbaby, Slaymesoftly and Wolfspider. . . and a real special thanks to the couple of people who emailed me out of the blue with very nice reviews and kept me going during a really dark week. It almost all came crashing down this past week, but you guys kept me sane, each in your own ways. Slainte...all of you. So when you get to the bottom, please, please let me know what you think...it really does help.
Nia

[A/N: Okay, so I lied, sort of. That last chapter was supposed to be longer (and a bit different), but um, my muse? That blond vampire? He wouldn’t take no for an answer, so...wouldn’t leave me alone until I wrote that chapter the way he wanted it. So blame all that on him. I swear its not my fault. Dialogue again take from Angel the Series, episode 53, written by Tim Minear (same as the last chapter). And the ritual described herein is not complete, do not attempt anything like this at home. Title is Audioslave, only because the song was echoing in my head when I started writing this... perhaps it fits also. Quotes as attributed and I own nothing. Not even the computer this was typed on.]

Previously: Dawn has gone to the Homecoming Dance; Darla’s in active labor; Buffy and Spike have just shared a rather intense moment, and Tara’s out on the town...this picks up shortly after the last chapter.


Book Two, Chapter 5. Last Remaining Light.


He either fears his fate too much,
or his deserts are small,
that dares not put it to the touch
to gain or lose it all
James Graham, Marquess of Montrose

the moment of a miracle is unending lightning . . .
Dylan Thomas, On the Marriage of a Virgin

Curl like smoke and breath again
down your throat inside your ribs
through your spine in every nerve
where I watch and wait and yield to the hurt

And if you don’t believe
the sun will rise
stand alone and greet
the coming night
in the last remaining light.
Chris Cornell, Audioslave,
The Last Remaining Light, Eponymous album



They ran out of hot water half way through the shower. It hardly mattered to him, because the slight changes indicating they were running low on it didn’t register with him, and Buffy was shielded under his shoulders, so she didn’t notice them until it was too late. They’d wasted enough of it before they even stepped into the shower. He didn’t much care, but Buffy was complaining half-heartedly because her hair was still full of conditioner, so he pulled her into his arms and let the water rinse off her head.

Her teeth were chattering by the time they emerged from the cold water, her fingers and toes blue at the tips. Spike toweled her off, ignoring his own discomfort, anxious to get her comfortable.

Giving in to his curiosity, Spike asked while she was towel drying her hair, “‘s it always like this?”

“What?” Her hair covered her face, making her look like a bedraggled waif, causing a smile to grace his features.

“The bleedin’, pet. ‘s it always this way?”

She sighed. “Yeah. Lasts for about forty-eight miserable hours, all crampy and bleah and I can’t go out because, hello, vampire magnet…and it’s just…but yeah.”

Tilting his head, Spike watched her run a comb through her hair, struggling with some of the tangles. Taking the comb away from her, he worked it through her hair as she wrapped a large towel around her torso. “Had a problem with vamps before?”

“Couple of times. Enough to make me rethink patrolling.”

Dropping the comb onto the vanity, Spike turned to watch her face. “And the other?”

“Huh?”

“The pain, love. Cramps and…” He wasn’t sure how to phrase this part of the question, because he’d never had to encounter this before. When he was human, suffering under the heavy morals of Victorian England, body parts were never mentioned, much less bodily functions. After turning, he’d never spent much time with humans except to drink, so this was new information. He was struggling with how to ask the question, Buffy watching him closely, finally just blurting it out, “The amount, I guess.”

Bright pink blush bloomed on her cheeks, traveling across her shoulders and upper breasts. Not looking into his eyes, she just nodded in response.

“Hey? ‘S me. Vampire. No need to go all missish on me now, luv.” His finger reached out to lift her chin, forcing her eyes upwards. “Tell me.”

“Just a benefit of being the Slayer.” She shrugged, feeling a bit uncomfortable with the conversation. Riley never wanted to talk about this, staying away from her when the mood swings got too rough, or worse, just pretend it was all in her head and that she should ‘buck up and take it like a man’.

Spike wasn’t stupid. Accurately guessing what path her train of thoughts followed, he pulled her into his arms, resting her head against his bare chest. “‘S all new to me, kitten. Wasn’t exactly talked about in my day, yeah?” Brushing a kiss against her temple, he murmured, “Jus’ wanna make it better. Don’t like seein’ you this way.”


~*~*~


For the first time in a couple of weeks, easily since before Buffy came back, Tara was having a good time. As in a really good time. She hadn’t told anyone else where she was going, almost afraid to tell any of her housemates where she was going and more importantly who she was going out to meet. It was weird enough in her mind, no doubt it would be impossible to explain to anyone else.

Glancing over at her companion, Tara stifled a giggle. He wasn’t at all like she’d thought on their first meeting. There’d been so much going on that time- she was afraid she was going to lose Willow and worried about being outed so violently to all Willow’s friends. It didn’t matter so much to her, since she’d always been quietly open about her preferences. Wasn’t like she was flamboyant, not at all, but it was more like she didn’t hide those preferences from people observant enough to notice.

So all things considered, it was kind of hard to imagine getting along with and even liking her current companion. But Oz was a likable guy, if a bit laconic and taciturn to a fault. He did have a wickedly dry sense of humor, which she appreciated, and he wasn’t hard to be around, not like some other guys. It was amazing the number of guys who would try to pick her up, despite knowing she was gay. What wasn’t surprising was the number of guys who wanted a threesome, but Tara wasn’t going there.

Thankfully, Oz was different. There was zero pressure, just…a weird bond they shared because of Willow. Through Oz, Tara got a glimpse into what kind of made Willow tick.

They were sitting in the Bronze, waiting for a band that Oz wanted to hear start their first set. The noise was escalating, the music pounding out a very dance-able beat and Tara couldn’t stop her feet from responding. Catching her restlessness from the corner of his eye, Oz took pity on her, asking, “Wanna get out there and cut a rug?”

She was up off the chair before he’d finished talking, her ‘let’s go’ wafting over her shoulder as she walked toward the dance floor.

“After you,” he said to her back, a very slight smile on his face.


~*~*~


Willow had laid out everything she would need for the summoning. All the herbs, all the right candles, her small cauldron, even an offering for the gods. It was all ready, waiting for her to cast the circle and start the ritual.

It was a sending and a summoning at once. She was going to prove to everyone that Spike was a liability, that it was dangerous for him to close to everyone…to Buffy and Dawn.

Deciding which gods to invoke had taken more time than she’d thought. There weren’t many directly associated with vampires, a few Egyptians and Celts aside, so she’d settled instead on invoking task-specific – Mercury for the messenger, Gwyn ap Nudd for the Wild Hunt because Spike was, after all hell bound, Isis and Osiris because he ruled the underworld and Isis had raised Osiris from the dead with help from Anubis, among a few others.

She wanted to send a message, specifically to Buffy, but to the universe in general that Spike was dangerous, and she was summoning warriors to prove that to Buffy.

Concentrating hard, Willow closed her eyes, drawing in a deep breath and began invoking the gods and goddesses she sought help from.

Standing in the middle of four candles, each at one of the corners, a fifth candle at her feet, Willow opened her eyes and called them forth…

“Deities of the north…” And the flame sprung to life in a bright spark of light.

“Deities of the east…” The north candle flared, arcing over to light the eastward candle, then receded.

“Deities of the south…” This time both lit candles flared, met in the air above her, and sparked the third candle to life.

Without turning around, Willow chanted again. “Deities of the west…” Three candles sparked, triangulating, joining together and igniting the last directional candle.

“Deities all…” The four lights flared high, arcing over her head before arrowing down to ignite the candle at her feet.

“Hear my plea, heed my cry. Give flight to my message, let the arrows fly. True nature be revealed, let scales fall from every blind eye.”

Taking a deep breath, her voice faltered but didn’t break. “Bring forth those enemies that can defeat him. Let Buffy see Spike for what he truly is. Let them all see his true nature.”

Drawing her athame across her palm, Willow let three drops of her blood fall over the candle, landing directly in the flame. She bent down, grabbing the candle with her still bleeding hand, then set flame to the contents of her cauldron.

“So mote it be.”

The candles flared, flames touched the ceiling, then extinguished. Willow slumped to her knees, repeating, “So mote it be.”


~*~*~


Dark, fathomless, ancient eyes focused their gaze upon the gaping mouth of hell. Amusement played about within the eternal, elemental consciousness and a rather ironic thought wafted back once the request was received.

Have a care what you wish for.

Prayer granted.


~*~*~


Somewhere on the desolate, high desert plains above what used to be part of Iran, a black robed cleric turned pleased eyes upon a warrior with a blue runic tattoo upon his brow. “We have located her. Your men are ready?”

“They are,” was the terse reply.

“It is time. Activate them.”

Turning away from the elderly cleric, the warrior gave the command.

And over four thousand miles away, several teams of men got into position.


~*~*~


Buffy was on the couch, feet propped up on the table, heating pad at her lower back, drinks, popcorn, and chocolate all within easy reach. Spike was standing there at the kitchen doorway watching her.

She couldn’t remember if she’d ever been indulged like this. Looking down at herself, she thought, hard to be all grumpy girl when I’m being pampered Buffy. Catching sight of him standing there leaning against the door jamb, she smiled. Who’d’ve thunk William the Bloody would be all caring guy. I really am kind of lucky.

He was trying not to laugh at her. She looked like a little kid, sitting in a too big chair surrounded by goodies. Pigtails, popcorn, big eyes…she was utterly adorable at the moment. And what made it even cuter were her expressions. He could always tell when she was talking to herself. She’d be a terrible bluffer, if she ever learned poker.

He could almost see the mental conversation just by her expressions alone. Suddenly a dreamy expression crossed her features and a Mona Lisa smile graced her features, her face aimed in his direction. Before he could ask, Buffy called him.

“Spike?”

“Yeah?” He stayed where he was, leaning against the doorway, ankles crossed, hands in pockets, one shoulder against the wood.

“Spike?” Her voice had a bit of a whine to it now, but she was still too cute for words.

“Yeah?” He crossed his arms over his chest, a smile on his face.

“Spike.” She was really whining now, but her eyes were smiling.

“Yes, dear?” His smirk crossed over into genuine smile and his eyes were crinkling at the corners.

Her lower lip came out and he lost it. Deep chuckles sounded over the low hum of the television and he tried not to laugh as he asked, “Somethin’ you wanted, pet?”

“Ahuh.” Fiddling with the throw blanket over her, Buffy lowered her eyes teasingly, deliberately keeping the pout in place.

“Gonna tell me what?” Oh, Gods…the little girl routine was gonna kill him.

Twirling one of her pigtails, Buffy whispered, “Ahuh,” then, “Wanna kiss. Can I have a kiss?”

All playfulness was gone now, replaced with instant hot pulsing need. His nostrils flared and he moved away from the door, flowing toward her like a panther on the prowl. “Always. Anytime.” A heartbeat pause. “Anywhere.”

His body was humming, every nerve ending fired with need for her. This was a first…Buffy making the first move…initiating this between them. His brain was reeling, thoughts scattered. She wanted him. She wanted him almost as much as he wanted her.

Standing over her, Spike looked down, really looking at the woman-child before him. Sometimes she was so…childlike, so innocent, uncertain, unsure…and then there were moments when she was pure wanton, world-weary, hardened and cynical. And he loved each one of those moments, all of them.

Buffy looked up at him, watching while he struggled to keep his desire to pick her up under control. She realized, as he struggled for breath, that he was probably the most controlled person she knew, despite his inability to stick to a long-term plan, but that wasn’t what she…loved about him. What she did love was his loss of control around her.

Her hand came up, running up his thigh, tugging on his tee shirt, pulling him down toward her. “Are ya gonna kiss me?”

She was up in his arms, his hands cupping her ass, her legs wrapped around his waist before she finished speaking, her ‘kiss me’ whispered directly into his mouth.

Nose to nose, Spike stared into her eyes and finding his answers in the deep emerald-gold depths, slowly captured her mouth with his.


~*~*~


Her feet hurt and the beautiful curls were drooping. She was all sweaty and tired, but none of that mattered, because she was having the best night of her short life.

Casey was everything she’d thought he would be– funny, cute, considerate, cute, did I mention cute? Okay, so he wasn’t Spike or Brad Pitt or Jude Law or Paul Walker or…Wesley, but he was her own age and like knew she was alive Coz, while two of those guys knew that about her, one was her biological father, and the other was just…way above her and also way, way too old.

Dawn stopped those thoughts. Wesley thoughts were not of the good, especially not while she was standing here supposedly listening to Casey. Go away, Wesley thoughts. Focusing on what Casey was saying, Dawn never noticed the exits being blocked, nor the men poised at the windows who were about to enter.


~*~*~


Breaking away from Buffy, Spike gently dropped her onto the couch. “Time for me to go, princess. Gotta get Niblet and the Sprout.”

This time the pout wasn’t a tease. She didn’t want him to go, but he’d insisted on getting the two teens when the dance was over, and since it was now almost midnight, it was time.

Wasn’t hard to miss her disappointment. “Princess?” He was torn, she shouldn’t come with him, she wasn’t kidding earlier about the bleeding, and he wasn’t comfortable leaving her alone. “Wanna come with me?”

Shaking her head no, Buffy said, “It’s okay. You won’t be gone long, I’ll be fine for a few.”

“Buffy? You sure?” He could feel the combination of emotions rolling off her.

“Seriously. Go.” Waving him away, Buffy said, “Leave now, back quick.”

“All right, love, back in fifteen.”

Stealing another quick kiss, Spike was gone in a flash.

Buffy threw a pillow across the room, hitting the television.


~*~*~


Willow came to, slumped on the floor, surrounded by puddles of hardening wax and a sickening stench in the air.

Her muscles were strained, feeling like they’d been over-stretched and then folded up, not allowed to pull back to their natural state. There was a constant in-between-radio-station hum in her ears.

Pushing up off the floor, Willow realized her legs wouldn’t support her slight weight. Giving in to the weakness, she crawled her way over to her bed, slumping against the side. She barely made it on top when she collapsed onto her pillow.


~*~*~


There were people running away from the school when Spike pulled up in the DeSoto.

Not good, was his first grim thought, followed quickly by, where the hell is she? Leaving the keys in the ignition, Spike pushed his way into the fleeing teenagers, minor shocks from the chip going off when he bumped into people. Didn’t stop him, his only thought was to find Dawn and get her out of here.

Making his way toward the gym, Spike’s battle sense went into overdrive.

Something was very wrong.


~*~*~


Darla was panting for breath, trying to escape the pain wracking through her body. Her belly was heaving and every muscle in her pelvic area was constricting. “Angel, our baby is gonna die right here in this alley. You died in an alley…do you remember?”

“I remember.” His face was grim, averted from Fred’s eyes and staring down at Darla.

“I wanna say I’m sorry. But I can’t.” Tears were sliding down her face, and he fought the urge to cry right along with her. “Aren’t you gonna tell me everything’s gonna be okay? That it’s okay?”

“No Darla, I can’t. No.” He shook his head, unwilling to look at her, unable to not look at her.

She sighed, facing some things about her long unlife that she’d never wanted to face, never had to, but the soul within her, burning her from within, was forcing her to take stock. “We did so many terrible things together. So much destruction, so much…pain. We can’t make up for any of it. You know that, don’t you?”

He couldn’t answer her, couldn’t lie to make it better. “Yeah. I know that.”

Her hand caressed her belly. “This child, Angel, it’s the one good thing we ever did together.” His hand reached out to hold hers, lifting it to his lips and placed a tender kiss on it. “The only good thing we ever did.”

With her hand still in his, Angel’s unneeded breath broke on a sob.

“Make sure to tell him that.” Before he could react, Darla had grabbed a stray piece of wood from the destroyed door and buried it in her chest. Angel gasped, staring as she turned to dust before his eyes.

Her dust mixed with the rain, falling lightly back down to earth, covering the crying infant lying exposed on the cobbled street.

Ignoring everything and everyone around him, including the vampire hunter with the crossbow aimed at his back, Angel gathered up his crying son, getting slowly to his feet. Purposely turning his back further to Holtz, Angel took the jacket Fred was holding out to him and wrapped it loosely around the baby, then walked toward where Wesley and the others were waiting next to his car.

The baby in his arms whimpered a little, cold, wet, needing warmth and something to suckle. Angel could only provide him with shelter from the rain. He stopped for a moment, adjusting his jacket around the baby and then stopped all movement.

This wasn’t just any baby.

It was a miracle.

His miracle.

His son.

Darla’s son.

A gift from the gods, the universe. He’d never done anything to truly deserve such a gift. Angel stared down at the innocent shining countenance of his barely-minutes old son and every emotion he’d ever felt roiled up within him. Bubbling, churning, conflicting and dizzying in their intensity.

He had a son.

So many emotions were swirling about, he’d never thought he could have children, never wanted them when he was human, not thought about the prospect in hundreds of years of existence. This was a part of him, part of Darla…a magical, mystical part of them both.

Pride, fear, the weight of responsibility, disbelief, confusion, helplessness, but above all, through it all, with each conflicting and accompanying emotion, there was overwhelming love. And the love over-rode and consumed every other emotion– subsuming them all within the unconditional, deep love…and a wellspring of such joy and happiness that…

Angel faltered…felt something rip from his chest. In a vain attempt to reel it back, he clutched the infant close and then stepped forward to Wesley.

Thrusting the infant at him, Angel stumbled, caught himself, stumbled again, looking at Wesley with agonized eyes, saying, “Call him Connor.” Then gasping, sucking in unneeded air, he growled out, “Keep him safe.”

Uncertain what was happening, Wesley nearly dropped the baby…but when Angel’s words finally registered with him, Wesley’s eyes widened in horror.

Backing away from the prone and writhing vampire, Wesley calmly, cooly caught everyone’s attention. “Run. Hide. Split up…now.”

No one understood until the vampire laughed.

“I’ll find you.”

Cordelia’s voice was as calm as Wesley’s had been as she cocked the crossbow at the vampire. “Not if one of us gets to you first, Angelus.”

Gunn slammed his boot down on Angelus’ ankle, breaking at least one bone.

The AI team, using the advantage Gunn had given them, scattered.

TBC~