Origins:Revelations
by Niamh


[A/N: As a writer, some chapters are harder to write than others. Some just seem to flow from the pen (or keyboard) and magically appear on the page before them. And some just resist all efforts to be expressed. The first nine chapters of this story were primarily the first – easy to write and easy to get through. That last chapter was a bitch. I’m not sure if it was because of the emotions or because I wasn’t feeling so hot for a week; or the fact that I cursed myself by saying this had all been going easily. Either way, its done. Hopefully it was halfway decent and readable. The title is from Anais Nin, from Incest, a Journal of love (5 February 1934 entry) and the quotes are as attributed. (Full title quote is I seek the real stuff of life. Profound drama.) Disclaimers in full force and effect.]

Previously: Everyone is out getting supplies. Buffy has taken a leap of faith with Spike and told him how she was feeling. This takes place immediately following the previous chapter.


Book Two, Chapter Eleven. The Real Stuff of Life.

Oh, God, I know no joy as great as a moment of rushing into a new love, no ecstasy like that of a new love. I swim in the sky; I float; my body is full of flowers, flowers with fingers giving me acute, acute caresses, sparks, jewels, quivers of joy, dizziness, such dizziness. Music inside of one, drunkenness. Only closing the eyes and remembering, and the hunger, the hunger for more, more, the great hunger, the voracious hunger, and thirst."
Anais Nin, May 30, 1934 from Incest


He knew she didn’t confess her feelings easily. That it was hard for her to admit the way she felt. She had such capacity for love, could give herself over to it completely, could drown in it. If only every single time she’d done so in the past hadn’t gotten her poor little heart stomped on.

Spike looked at her; saw the fear lurking in the green depths of her sparkling eyes and his own heart nearly broke. The wariness crept in the longer he remained silent, afraid to trust him, afraid not to. “Buffy?”

His good hand came up to brush against her cheek. “You’re my world, love. ‘M yours.”

She’d closed her eyes when he’d said her name, unable to hold his direct gaze. But she’d opened them again when his knuckles brushed against her skin. Her eyes grew impossibly wider when Spike’s words echoed the ones he’d said in her dream.

Was this it? Was this the moment the dream was foreshadowing? Buffy stared at him, a growing…something…awareness in the pit of her belly. She had the feeling that this was one of those moments in life, that if she didn’t follow her instincts- that if she didn’t leap- this chance would never come again. And if she didn’t, things would change between them…and eventually, he would leave her…not because he didn’t love her, but because she wouldn’t trust herself to love him back.

Buffy opened her mouth and the words came tumbling out. “Yours. I’m yours…I don’t want anyone else…you…only you, Spike.”

His hand froze against her, his eyes burning into hers. Spike drew in a deep breath. “God woman…what you do to me. Always…always yours. Love you.”

He smiled crookedly at her, unable to be any more eloquent than she’d been. His mind was racing, kept coming back to one thing, how she’d looked when she’d said ‘yours’.

The simultaneous cry of the baby and the phone ringing broke their focus on each other. Neither one was sure what to do, then Spike said, “Give me the phone, you take the sprog.”

Buffy handed him the phone then lifted the baby into her arms. He settled down almost immediately, allowing Buffy to hear both sides of the conversation. It was Tara, giving them an update and letting them know they’d be a bit longer, because Anya wanted a disinvite spell and wards put on the shop, designed specifically for Angel.

Spike had rolled over onto his back to hold the phone to his ear and Buffy eyed his bare chest. It made such a comfy pillow. With the baby tucked into the crook of her arm, Buffy laid her head down on Spike’s shoulder, her back to his side, moving his arm until she was more comfortable. He grunted when she nearly knocked the phone from his hand and the baby sent up another wail, this time a more insistent one.

“Think he’s hungry?” Buffy sat up again, taking the phone away from Spike and looking around for the bottle Tara had left with her earlier.

Spike’s stomach growled loudly and Buffy fought a giggle. “Must be. Both babies are hungry. Need some nummy treats?” The last was said to a now fully crying baby and Buffy got up from the bed. “Ssshhhh. All right, baby. Gonna get the bottle.”

There was another answering growl from Spike, causing outright laughter from Buffy. “So didn’t know vamps did that.”

“Quiet missy. When I’m back on my feet…” he mock growled at her, amusement twinkling in his eyes, then he winced at a particularly piercing wail from the baby.

“Oooohh the Big Bad is gonna get me?” Buffy was searching frantically, until she remembered that they’d put the bottle in the bathroom sink to keep it warm, since they had no idea when the baby was going to need to eat again. Her laughter floating behind her, she headed for it, saying, “I’m soooo scared…can’t you see me shaking?”

“Jus’ you wait, little girl. Big Bad’s gonna give you what for.” He rumbled back at her, his eyes staring at her backside as she left the room.

“Promise?” She was standing at the doorway, infant and bottle in hand, gazing into his eyes.

“Yeah.” Their teasing had taken a serious turn and the promise of intense lovemaking lay between them.

“I can wait then.” She made her way back to the bed, reclaiming her spot next to him. As she was getting settled, Buffy asked, “Can you reach my neck from here?”

“Buffy? You want to do this now?” Spike rolled over to cuddle against her, his injured arm resting on her hip and his good curling up under her head.

“Might as well. Gotta stay still for the baby and,” she sort of shrugged, feeling her shoulder brush against his. “You need to eat as much as he does.”

“Do you know how much I love you?” Not really expecting an answer, Spike leaned closer, kissing her shoulder. “Any idea at all?”

“Think I’m getting the picture.” She smiled as he continued to lay kisses on her shoulder. She shifted her head, dropping it down from the pillow to rest only on his good arm, exposing her neck for him. An almost purr rumbled from his upper chest and Buffy felt the vibrations all the way through her body. She couldn’t help the answering wriggle from her hips, nor the soft ‘mmmmm’ from escaping her.

He chuckled against her neck, whispering, “Baby likes that?”

His answer was a soft exhalation that suspiciously sounded like a breathy moan of, ‘Yes.’

Spike licked her pulse point, Buffy moving closer and he tried holding her still. “Princess, can’t do more than this. Need you to stay still. Don’t need to give the sprog an education this early.” He breathed heavily against her neck, fascinated as the goose bumps rose on her skin. “But by God, kitten, I want you so much.”

“Spike.” She whined his name softly, unconsciously hugging the baby tighter.

“Love you.”

She could feel him shift behind her and knew the second he nuzzled against her with extended canines. He kissed her one more time and then gently, slowly, sank his fangs into her neck.


~*~*~


He hadn’t expected them to stand up to him. They were, after all, swayed by emotional ties and had been caught by surprise.

Obviously happiness came in more than one form. The grin widened across his squared features. Wasn’t that a kicker…the great soul wrenched free by a tiny little baby?

Unfortunately for them, that little stunt- Gunn slamming his huge boot down on his ankle- hadn’t done what he’d obviously intended. His leg wasn’t broken, just badly bruised. They weren’t his first prey, though. No, not by a long shot. So he’d let them all go. Let them stew in their fear, worry about who was going to be first…let them wonder. He knew where he was headed.

He had to eliminate the one person he knew who could restore the soul. Once she was gone- his sights were set on the Slayer. And her traitor.

Oh, yeah. The traitor was going to die.

But not until he watched all of them suffer and beg for release first.

First…little Willow.


~*~*~


It took her a more than full night’s sleep but the backlash from the summoning had finally worn off. She still felt groggy and a little fuzzy, but for the most part she was feeling much better.

Making her way to the bathroom, Willow figured a hot shower would help. Ducking her head over the sink, Willow didn’t notice until she stood up and faced the mirror. Blinking at her altered reflection, Willow shook her head. Huh. . . need some sunlight, I guess.

Shrugging the changes off as a trick of the light, Willow stepped into the shower.


~*~*~


Between them, Wesley and Tara came up with wards that would work to keep Angelus from doing harm if he ever managed to get into the shop. Tara had left an opening for Spike, but she wasn’t entirely certain it would work. They’d worked quickly, trying to get as much covered in as quick a time as possible, knowing they had to get back to Revello Drive before full dark. It was now nearly six and sundown was less than an hour away.

Anya was closing the shop at six and heading directly home. Until the Angelus situation was resolved, she wasn’t keeping the shop open past six, on Giles’ orders, and- again on Giles’ orders- the mail order business would take priority. Live customers could wait. He’d actually prefer if she wasn’t in the shop alone, but he didn’t want Buffy or Wesley to leave Spike alone.

Though, Tara thought, can’t imagine that Spike will be in bed longer than a couple of days. There was no doubt in her mind that Buffy would let Spike drink from her. Tara was positive she’d done it when the hounds had nearly severed his wrist. There couldn’t be any reason why she would refuse him now. Her intuition was telling her that Giles knew it also. In this case it was the best course of action. They had too many unknown assailants, the knights, Angelus, the hounds…the number kept growing. If they didn’t get some good luck soon, Tara wasn’t sure they’d all survive.


~*~*~


Buffy was watching the baby drink, his tiny lips wrapped around the nipple, formula pooling at the corners of his mouth. He was a cute baby. Hard to tell right now who he resembled, though Buffy thought he had more of Darla’s looks than Angel’s, but his dark hair had to be from his father. She smiled; imagining what her own might look like. The probability of her having a blond baby was unlikely, since she was pretty sure Spike’s natural color was not bleach white.

Damn it.

She was trying not to think about him while he was…feeding, because his bite…Oh, God. His bite was intoxicating, taking her away, transporting her some place…it was almost like being in that other place. Memories of heaven were getting dimmer every day, but being with him was akin to that feeling. Safe. Loved. Protected.

Involuntarily, Buffy’s hips wriggled again and Spike tried flexing his fingers around her hip, silently asking her to be still.

Lifting his head away from her neck slightly, Spike said, “Kitten, please…can’t…” His breath was warmed by her blood and still it caused shivers down her spine. “Wan’ t’ be inside you, love, to feel you aroun’ me, warmin’ me, surroundin’ me…I wan’ tha’ more than I wan’ to get up an’ walk.”

He licked her neck, closing the wounds. “But I can’t, love…can’t be where I wan’.” Slapping her butt with his closed fist, Spike play growled. “So stop wrigglin’ an’ givin’ me ideas, woman.”

Buffy giggled but did as he asked. “Did you get enough?”

“Yeah. ‘M not taking any more.” He sighed, resting his head against hers.

“Why?” She turned her chin, brushing against him. “Spike, you need more.”

“Buffy, can’t have you too weak, either. Won’t do anyone any good if we’re both too weak to fight.” He nuzzled against her. “I’ll still be up and around quicker than you think.”

“Are you just telling me all this, Spike? Or is this the truth?” There was a sort of amused exasperation in her tone, but he picked up on it.

“Buffy, headache is gone, ‘m talkin’, which means the fracture and broken jaw are healed. There’s only a bit of an ache in m’right leg.” He flexed the fingers of his right hand, feeling the skin stretch beneath the bandages. “The rest will take a bit more time, but should be better by week’s end.”

“Promise?”

He pushed up as much as he could using his uninjured arm. “Promise, love.”

“Okay.”

That show of strength was too much and Spike had to drop down heavily onto the pillow.

“How soon?” She asked again, feeling the bed dip from his weight.

“Buffy. Let it go. Be up soon.”

She could hear the growing aggravation in his voice, but she was concerned. Didn’t want him just telling her he was going to be okay when he wasn’t.

“Don’t tell me what I want to hear, Spike, tell me the truth.” There was an edge in her voice that she couldn’t fight.

“What’s today?” His rising irritation wasn’t hard to miss.

“Late Sunday afternoon.”

“An’ how many times today have I drank from you? Three? Four?”

“Something like that. Three.”

“Plus yesterday.” He couldn’t hide the leer in his tone, then he quickly sobered. “‘M already healin’ kitten. Can feel the bones knittin’ together. Everythin’s right itchy.”

He shifted, rolling onto his back, easing the pressure on his left leg. “Should be up for a shower in the mornin’. ‘Specially if I get more from you. So yeah, be up an’ around by the end o’ the week.”

“Okay.” Resignation was clear in her tone and he knew she was just humoring him.

There was one other thing on her mind but she wasn’t sure how to bring it up, how to tackle this subject at all. Because she was sure not everyone was going to agree with her. She had to make sure Giles wasn’t just saying ‘chip or no chip’ to placate her, because she was going to put that to the test. The chip.

It was coming out. As soon as she could arrange it. Whether she had to go to the Council or to the Initiative, that chip was coming out.

Spike wasn’t Angel, wasn’t likely to go on some ugly psychotic fish and friend killing spree. Wasn’t going to stalk her or her friends. Well…he might put some fear into Xander, but hey, he probably deserved it. He might threaten, might even throw a few punches, but Buffy didn’t believe for one second that Spike would kill Xander.

Or anyone that really didn’t deserve it.

The chip was their biggest weakness– their huge Achilles heel- and she couldn’t allow that weakness.

Anyone bent on destroying them had a way to defeat them. All that had to be done was separate them and send humans after Spike. Eventually, he’d be unable to even defend himself, then he’d be…gone…and it was so fresh in her mind that her breath caught on a sob and new tears sprang to her eyes.

“Kitten?” He heard the sob and felt her breath catch.

Instead of answering, Buffy sat up, lifting the now full and very sleepy infant to her shoulder. Turning to face him, she stared into his concerned eyes, wiping her tears on the baby’s back. Blowing out a breath, she gathered her courage. “It has to come out.”

At first he had no idea what she meant, but the expression on her face, the set to her shoulders, hinted what she was getting at.

There was no keeping the surprise from his voice. “What?”

“The chip.” Her jaw flexed, clenching a bit and her hold on the infant tightened. A look he’d seen often enough crossed her features, telling Spike this wasn’t just a whim or spur of the moment decision. Deciding not to question the ‘what’ further, he tackled the ‘why’.

“Been thinkin’ ‘bout this, have you?” He shifted, moving his left hand behind his head watching her closely.

“Yeah, I have.” Loosening her hands from around the baby’s back, Buffy didn’t flinch from his gaze. “Last night just kind of decided it for me.”

“What ‘bout me being a serial killer in prison?” He’d objected to that statement the first time she’d thrown it in his face and he was now returning the favor.

“You feel the urge to drain anyone lately?” She had a feeling he was going to bring that up and she was kind of prepared for it.

Before answering her, he gave the question the thought it required.


~*~*~


Wesley and Dawn were in the truck, waiting for Oz and Tara to finish grocery shopping, not really talking. He was staring into space, his mind still focused on finding a weakness for Angelus. There weren’t many. He realized, however, that they currently had an untapped source of information about Angelus and how he fought and what, or rather, who he was most likely to target first.

There was a possible list of candidates he kept rearranging in his head, going over the permutations of who was the mostly likely first target. Any one of the AI team could be it, so to, could any one of the Scoobies. Holtz was also a possibility. A chilling prospect would be if Angelus were to connect with anyone of the employees of Wolfram and Hart- including, quite possibly- Lilah Morgan. Which would give him an advantage they might not be able to overcome. Another thing Wesley didn’t want to contemplate.

Dawn cleared her throat, then rested her head against the back of the seat Wesley was sitting on. She was tired, exhausted, and the lack of sleep was beginning to tell. Wesley shifted, looking over the back of the seat to look down at her. “We’ll be home soon.”

“Ahuh.” She looked up at him, noting his exhaustion equaled or exceeded her own. “I’m so tired.”

Smiling down at her, Wesley laughed a bit. “I know just how you’re feeling.”

A tired little twinkle entered her eyes. “Oh, I bet you do, Mr. Former Watcher guy.” She laughed softly. “You know, you used to be a real geek.”

“Thanks, Dawn.” He winced, remembering just how badly his first stay in Sunnydale had been. “Wasn’t exactly a shining moment for me.”

“Was it so bad?” Dawn wanted to know how things were from his perspective, since what she remembered wasn’t real. “Was it all bad?”

“No. It wasn’t all bad.” Looking back, it really wasn’t. There had been some moments when things were settled, but then either his own overblown sense of importance and insecure need to force Giles out of the picture would surface and he’d destroyed whatever inroads he’d made. “But it really wasn’t very good.”

“Oh, vague it up a bit more Wes.” She stuck her tongue out at him, completely catching him off guard. “Still with the cryptic talk.”

He froze, realizing she was flirting with him, all at once unsure what to do. She was attractive, but good heavens; she was only fifteen years old. Without any idea how to behave, Wesley was at a loss. Falling back on his strengths, he launched into an excruciatingly detailed account of what it had really been like, at least from his view.

Dawn listened, letting his voice wash over her, his presence giving her a bit of security.


~*~*~


Oz was hovering by the meat section, trying to decide what they needed more of, steak or bacon, while Tara was getting other stuff. Wesley was outside with Dawn, both of them nearly out on their feet. Once more he’d just handed them both a handful of bills, weariness etched on his features.

He knew what he wanted to get and that would probably be okay with Spike and at least one of the girls, but he wasn’t sure his wishes counted in this instance.

Contemplating his options, Oz smiled a little when Tara’s voice sounded in his ear. “Get both. We have a lot of people to feed.”

“Hey.” Glancing at her, Oz shrugged a little. “Not sure everyone eats it.” He lifted the steaks, raising an eyebrow.

“I’m the only one that won’t. But,” she whispered, leaning closer to him. “If this is around, I’m not responsible for what happens.” As she spoke, she grabbed the bacon from his hand.

He smiled again, moving away to grab another package when an oh-so-familiar voice spoke.

“Tara?”

Turning around, Oz saw a stricken wounded look cross her features then she steeled herself to face the form of her ex-girlfriend. He froze, aware that Willow hadn’t seen him yet.



Please let me know what you think. Good, bad or otherwise, I need to know. Thanks.


[A/N: No, I’m not losing interest in writing this story; No, I’m not going to just end it with a half-assed end; and most emphatically NO I am not leaving this incomplete. I have been in a fair amount of pain and also been unable to spend countless hours typing this up. But I promise, this will be finished and will hopefully have a satisfactory conclusion. The title is from Henry Stimson and the quotes are as attributed. Disclaimers in full force and effect.]

Previously: The foursome has gone out to get supplies; and Buffy has asked Spike a rather serious question...what’s his answer going to be? This picks up where we left everyone.


Book Two, Chapter Twelve. A Man Trustworthy

What is done out of love always takes place beyond good and evil.
Friedrich Nietzsche, Beyond Good and Evil, Aphorism 153

The chief lesson I have learned in a long life
is that the only way to make a man trustworthy is to trust him;
and the surest way to make him untrustworthy is to distrust him and show your distrust.
Henry L. Stimson

I count him braver who overcomes his desires
than him who overcomes his enemies.
Artistotle, In Stobaeus, Florilegium



He finally closed the book, his head swimming from the stuffy atmosphere of the library and the crabbed handwriting of some of the journals. Giles took off his glasses with one hand, resting his head in the other. He was the only one in the library on this late Sunday night, the rooms silent and hushed. Thankfully, the particular information he was searching for was readily available. The myth of vampires having the ability to impregnate women was more than just that. While it had been nearly three hundred years since the last reported case, there had been more than one.

Each case was fairly well documented and in each case it appeared that Angel’s theory was borne out. Giles grimaced at his own internal pun. In the six cases he’d uncovered, the women had all been dead and then mystically resurrected. His mind raced through the possibilities– Darla, and well, now Buffy. Not that she was pregnant. Yet.

Interestingly enough, so far all the cases had something else in common– every vampire involved was an Aurelian. However, it was entirely possible that the only reason the diaries mentioned Aurelian vampires was because of their status. Very few Aurelians sired minions indiscriminately, thereby preserving the bloodlines. Additionally, the Aurelius line produced an inordinate number of master vampires.

It had come as no great surprise that there was considerable mention in the Council’s libraries of Aurelian vampires, as a whole they were indeed, a ‘master race’.

What also hadn’t really come as much of a surprise was the rise of the William the Bloody. Giles had suspected much of the information, his findings merely confirming his suppositions.

Sired by either Drusilla or Angelus around 1880- and he knew for a fact it was Drusilla- had risen to master status in less than ten years. Defeated his first Slayer in 1900. The diaries mentioned other battles with Slayers, spanning nearly a century and the globe. Spike had set out to prove himself. By attaining his status as master, Spike had also elevated Drusilla to the same.

What struck Giles was the difference between the two vampires he knew well. While most Aurelians did not sire minions, Angelus had done so freely twice in the last one hundred years. The first time immediately following Spike’s turning and then again recently, when the soul had been removed. Another marked difference was that Spike preferred outright battling and open warfare while Angelus chose to stalk and frighten his prey– much as he had done with Drusilla.

There was a certain amount of chilling honesty in William the Bloody’s behavior. No subterfuge, no hidden agenda, just open face to face confrontations. His willingness to face his opponents said much for his character. If he said he was going to do something he did. His loyalty was unquestionable and there was a rather gallant air about him. Oddly enough, there were few records of him torturing his victims while in Angelus’ case there were copious references to his brutality.

Giles sighed, feeling the strain of hours of research spent in an uncomfortable chair. Whatever had driven Angel away from Sunnydale, and Giles was beginning to suspect that while Angel claimed it was because of the futility of his relationship with Buffy, that was merely an excuse and not clearly the real reason- he suspected they might never know the real truth.

If he were being honest with himself, Giles would be happy if Angel were to take up residence somewhere else. Some place further away, like the inactive Hellmouth in New York or London…or Singapore…or another dimension.

Once more going over his mental to-do-list, Giles added another item as an addendum; find a neurosurgeon capable of performing surgery on a vampire.

There’d been no discussion of this with Buffy or Spike, but after speaking with her earlier, Giles had to at least be prepared for the possibility that she would be open to having the chip removed.

The chip was a liability.

Spike knew it. Giles knew it. And he was beginning to wonder if Buffy might know it as well. If they were going to be a truly effective team, neither Buffy nor Spike could afford such an obvious weakness. The chip was far too exploitable, leaving Spike far too vulnerable to attack.

And if the possibility of parenthood were thrown into the equation, with a further possibility of more human assailants, then…well, Giles was certain that the chip would need to be either removed or neutralized. He had no doubts at all that either the Council or Wolfram & Hart would be tempted to get their hands on any child produced by the two.

Any child of a slayer was destined for scrutiny by the Council. Should that child be also half vampire, Giles had no idea what the Council’s reaction would be. Wolfram & Hart would be just as…curious. Which was, he thought, a rather mild word for the amount of interest such a child would garner.

Getting up from his chair, Giles headed for the listings of known demon surgeons.


~*~*~


Anya was just locking the door and setting the alarm before slipping out the back door, heading directly to the apartment she shared with Xander, when she realized just how late it was.

The only illumination was from the street lights on Main Street and there were only a few people out walking. Most of them were going to or coming from the Espresso Pump, so she wasn’t really paying attention to faces or forms.

She had every confidence that the warding and the disinvite that Tara and Wesley had done earlier would be more than adequate. She’d also sent a quick plea out to D’Hoffryn. Although protection was not strictly his expertise, she knew he’d watch out for her. Which kind of explained why she didn’t flinch when a dark hulking shadow came up from behind her.

However, when a heavy hand clamped down on her shoulder, her shrieked surprise had her boyfriend covering his ears.

“Gee, Ahn, did you have to try and wake the dead?” Xander winced at the pitch of her voice.

“Xander! Why did you do that? I’m here all alone and you…” She swatted him on one shoulder. “Not good, Xander! You made me shriek and I hurt my ears.”

“You hurt your ears?” Xander looked at her in disbelief. “Ahn…I called you twice before I came closer, didn’t you hear me?”

“No. I was thinking.” Realizing Xander didn’t know what was going on, she said, “Wesley was here earlier. Something happened in Los Angeles and Angel’s lost his soul.”

Xander wasn’t sure he’d heard her correctly. He wasn’t quite sure what to say. He’d always had this sneaky suspicion that someday Angel would slip and the soul would disappear. Staring at her for a few moments, Xander just tried to process the information. “Why was Wesley here?”

“He brought word from Los Angeles.” They hadn’t said anything to Anya about why Wesley had come and not just called, nor did she know how Angel had lost the soul.

“So, who was the unlucky girl? Do we have to worry about an Angel groupie too?” Xander grabbed her hand, pulling her after him. “What did Buffy say?”

“I don’t know Xander. Buffy wasn’t here. She was home with Spike.” Completely missing the disgust on Xander’s face, she went on. “Tara and Wesley put up stronger wards and they also did a disinvite. Angel’s never been to our apartment, so we don’t have to worry about that. Oh, and Giles called, He thinks he’ll be home before the end of the week, but he doesn’t want me in the store alone after dark.”

Xander was more than half listening this time, but his mind was still focusing on Angelus. “Ahn? Did Wesley say why Angel lost his soul?”

“No Xander. I don’t believe he did.” Anya huffed at him, clearly peeved that once again he wasn’t paying attention to her. “Sometimes I don’t know why I talk to you.”

“Me either.” His words were a half-attempted response to her, but an extremely unthinking and hurtful one.

Small tears sprang to Anya’s eyes while she bit her tongue. Staying uncharacteristically silent, Anya kept her thoughts and wounded heart to herself. She really was beginning to question her relationship with Xander.

She silently fumed the whole way home, not even questioning Xander when he changed his mind and turned the car towards Revello Drive.


~*~*~

“Tara?” Willow’s voice wavered, emotions leaking through, pain and loss coming through in bell-like clarity. Oz winced, knowing he was witnessing something he, above all people, probably shouldn’t be.

“Hello, Willow.” For some strange reason, Tara wasn’t nervous or upset or drawn in by the sound of Willow’s voice. The butterflies were there, but they weren’t crippling her and she wasn’t feeling at all apprehensive.

“Hey. How…how are you?” Willow, on the other hand…Willow was very nervous, Tara could clearly see it. She was fidgeting, her hands fluttering at her sides and she was shifting her weight from one foot to another.

“Good. I’m good.” Knowing she expected it, Tara asked, “How about you?”

“Okay, I guess.” Willow clearly didn’t know what to do next. A flash of pity surged through Tara, but she quickly squashed it. Despite outward…Tara finally looked at her ex-girlfriend.

Willow’s normal complexion was gone. That almost sun-kissed look gone, replaced by a paler version and was that? Yeah…Willow’s hair was darker, the red shot through with almost black highlights. Tara’s internal alarms went off and her back stiffened. Whatever internal changes the paleness and hair marked, they weren’t good changes. Taking an imperceptible step back, Tara said, “That’s good, then.”

Opening up her senses, Tara tried to get a reading on Willow’s aura, but her own emotions were blocking her. Drawing in a deep breath, she tried centering herself and realized that Oz was close, unobtrusively watching them. A sudden flash of insight let Tara know that should something happen, Oz would come to her aid and not automatically side with his ex-girlfriend. Taking another deep breath, Tara focused inward, drawing power and strength from the universe in, and on her exhalation, reached out with all her senses, reading Willow.

What she discovered was not good.

Willow…Willow what have you done? All is not what you think…be careful what you wish for…oh, Gods, Willow…my Gods. What have you done? Poor Buffy…poor Spike.

Tara’s horrified thoughts were halted when Willow’s tentative, wavering voice interrupted her. “Tara? Do you think maybe we could talk? You know, just…talk? With coffee? Or something?”

Tara recoiled violently, the ugliness that was creeping into the other girl revolting her. Back-stepping away, Tara started shaking her head in denial, unable to form words.

Oz perked up from his spot just out of Willow’s line of sight, his nose getting a scent of Tara’s that was…not so much fear, but…

Covering his own mild apprehension, Oz stepped out from behind the Hostess display, pretending he didn’t know what was going on.

“Thought I’d lost you.” Taking the bacon from Tara’s hand, he tossed it into the basket.

Willow’s shocked “Oz?” rang through the store.

Turning to look at her, he dead-panned, “Hey Will. Didn’t see you.”

“Tara? Oz?” Confusion and pain and panic warred within her and each emotion was reflected on her face. “Oz?”

Ignoring her for a second, Oz touched Tara’s arm in a way that had Willow gaping further, but gave the blond a moment to recover. “We got everything?”

When she nodded then ducked her head to give him a silent thank you, only then did Oz shift his attention back to Willow.

“Hey. How’ve you been Will?”

She was gaping at them like a fish too long out of water. This was…Willow couldn’t even wrap her mind around this. Oz and Tara? Oz. And. Tara. Were talking like they were all…domestic.

“We need to get milk and eggs. Oh, and tortilla chips and salad stuff,” Tara said while smiling at Oz.

“Um. Yeah. Tara? I?” Willow couldn’t complete a thought, much less a sentence. “How?”

Smiling at each other and sharing a look that had Willow reeling off balance even further, Oz said, “Ran into Buffy. She introduced us. Been hanging ever since.”

Deliberately keeping it vague, yet with enough innuendo to trigger further incoherency, Oz kept his expression neutral.

Willow couldn’t breathe…couldn’t…she felt like she’d stepped into an alternate dimension, but couldn’t remember how or when. This was so far beyond bizarre her brain couldn’t possibly process it.

Oz and Tara. Grocery shopping. Together. Maybe it was just…errands for Buffy. Yeah. That had to be it. And that line of reasoning was shattered by Tara’s next question.

“Do you remember if we have enough soap in the bathroom?”

What? Laundry soap and bath…and milk? Eggs? Willow couldn’t… this just…wasn’t… happening.

Having gotten enough time to compose herself, Tara faced the other girl. “Willow? I don’t think it’s a good idea for us to have…to get together right now. I’m just not ready.”

“Please? Just…please, baby? I miss you so much.” Tears of confusion sprang to Willow’s eyes. "Can we just, you know, talk for a bit?”

Relenting a little, Tara said, “Maybe. I’ll let you know…just…not now.”

Oz touched her arm again, cocking his head toward the registers and by unspoken agreement, the two spoke at the same time, ‘We gotta go, Willow.” “I’ll let you know…okay?”

And before she could respond or really even recover, the two loves of Willow’s life were gone, leaving her in tears, without either of them sparing her a backwards glance.


~*~*~


She was watching him carefully, noting the bruises that dotted his arms and chest, the black eyes he was currently sporting, waiting patiently while he thought. He was usually so animated, so alive that it was sometimes hard to watch him being this still, when his chest didn’t rise and fall with unneeded breath. Not tonight, though. Tonight she was grateful to have him in any shape. Breathing or not. Walking or not. Buffy almost didn’t care. As long as he wasn’t dusty, he would recover.

He was watching her just as carefully, from underneath partially closed eyes, noting the changes marking her. Her body had filled out; she was no longer so painfully thin, her hair curling over her shoulder almost down to her waist. The baby was sleeping against her shoulder, his tiny form snuggled against her, her strong arms cradling him gently. She was unusually quiet right now. Though there were times in the past when he’d seen her this still, whatever she was thinking was no doubt serious.

A soft sound escaped from the baby, breaking their contemplation of each other. She’d asked him just moments ago one of the more serious questions of his life.

Would he?

Would he go out and kill everything in sight? Opening his eyes, resting them on her slim form, Spike had to admit if he did go on a rampage the burden would fall to her. Buffy would be forced to not only slay him, but she would be alone, probably for the rest of her short life. Did he miss the hunt? If he were being completely honest with himself, the answer was yes, at times he did. Was what he and Buffy did every night, patrolling and being a white hat, was that enough to replace the hunt? Yeah. Reluctantly admitting it, Spike quickly re-evaluated his life.

If they removed the chip, he’d have no restraints but himself.

If they kept the chip, more instances like the one from last night were likely to occur.

The chip kept him vulnerable, made them both vulnerable. At this point it was far more of a hindrance than a help, because looking at the woman standing in the doorway, Spike was so completely certain of his feelings for her that he didn’t ever want anything to alter the life he had now, except for it to get better. He wasn’t about to bollocks that up. Not for the taste of fresh blood. Besides, he had the best stuff in the world right here, why on earth would he go hunting for something that was of lesser quality? He knew, too, with sudden clarity that if he were to lie to her, there would be an indefinable change in their relationship. And they stood the chance of losing everything.

“No.” His voice was strong and steady and without any hesitation at all.

Spike waited a beat, wondering if she were going to say something to make him clarify his ‘no’ but she remained silent, her eyes fixed on his. “Why would I do that? ‘M not some fledge that can’t control himself. No need.”

Buffy left her position by the door, walking toward the bed, her hand unconsciously stroking down the baby’s back, her eyes still not leaving his.

There was a look in his eyes that she’d only seen once before– that look he’d had a very long time ago– and suddenly she remembered when it was.

She’d followed him out the front door, watching as the coat flared behind him. “Spike? You promise to keep Giles safe?”

The vampire had whirled around at the sound of his name, a nasty comment at the ready, but the look on her face had stopped him. Instead of spouting something glib or nasty, he’d closed the distance between them, his hand reaching out to cup her cheek.

A look entered his eyes, resolve, promise and strangely tenderness, combined into a look of such fierce…Buffy couldn’t put a name to the emotions flickering in his eyes, but she knew on a gut level that she could trust that look, would always be able to trust that look.

It was that moment– standing on the porch, Angelus on the loose- that moment and that look that started it for Buffy. The trust she had in Spike.

Sitting down on the bed facing him, Buffy realized that look was back. It was the same look and she knew now what she hadn’t known then, what he might not even have known back then, that other indefinable emotion in his eyes? All those years ago? It was love.

He’d loved her then.

Very deliberately, she laid the baby down on the bed, tucked up against Spike’s side, then she raised her eyes to his.

Her voice was low, almost hushed when she spoke. “How long? When…how long have you loved me?”

Drawing in a deep breath, he searched her wide, hazel green eyes. By way of answer, he moved his good hand from behind his head, reaching for her, tugging on the ends of her hair. “From the first…moment I saw you.” His voice was equally low, husky with promise. ‘Didn’t know it…but it was there…”

She curled into his hand, kissing his palm. A smile cracked his face and she whispered his name. “When did you…suspect?”

“Probably that night. Came to find you when Angelus was…when he had Rupert. So fierce you were…yeah. Then.” Watching her nuzzle his hand, Spike asked, “Why?”

“Because that was the night I started trusting you.”

“Ah.” Smiling a bit, Spike said, “Big night, that was.”

“Yup.”

They lapsed into silence, both of them lost in their thoughts. Buffy laid her head down on Spike’s chest, his arm curling around her from the side.

“Sweetheart? You’re serious about this?”

“As a heart attack.”

“Right then. How’re we gonna do this?” His arm tightened around her and Buffy leaned down to kiss his chest.

“Spike?” She hesitated, then rushed into what she wanted to say, “Just promise me before you kill Xander, you’ll wait.”

He chuckled a bit. “All right.”



Its been a really rough week. Really, really rough. Any kindness you can send my way would be greatly appreciated. Please, let me know what you think about this one.

like to thank everyone that reviewed that last chapter and especially those of you who de-lurked to bring a smile to my face. I don't think you understand how much that helped. In any case, I don't think I can convey it anyway. Thank you all.

[A/N: Updates are going to be a bit slower and I’m not so happy about that, but I just can’t do anymore than I am. The pain has not decreased any, so its very hard for me to spend lots of time writing/typing. Please bare with me on this. I promise I won’t keep you waiting too long, but it really depends on the pain. That being said, for those of you that keep asking about whether or not I have more stories out there – I am working on getting my original fiction back up on the web. Hopefully that will be sometime soon. Title is from Ralph Waldo Emerson, “Montaigne; or, the Skeptic” and the quotes are as attributed. Disclaimers in full force and effect]

Previously: Willow saw Tara and Oz together; Giles is working diligently in London; supplies are all gotten and Spike has answered Buffy’s question. This follows shortly after the last chapter.


Book Two, Chapter 13. Half a Dozen Reasonable Hours.

Clouds now and again
give a soul some respite from
moon-gazing – behold.
Matsuo Basho, untitled haiku

Reason, the prized reality, the Law, is apprehended, now and then,
for a serene and profound moment, amidst the hubbub of cares and
Works which have no direct bearing on it;
Miss then lost, for months or years, and again found,
for an interval, to be lost again.
If we compute it in time, we may, in fifty years,
have half a dozen reasonable hours.
Ralph Waldo Emerson



They were still unloading the supplies from the van when Xander and Anya pulled up to the curb. Knowing they hadn’t told Anya the entire story– what had caused Angel to lose his soul, or why Wesley had sought shelter in Sunnydale, or why Spike and Buffy hadn’t been the ones to warn Anya– really, they hadn’t told her much of anything, they all braced for an epic outburst.

“Hey guys, what’s up?” Xander got out of the car and walked to where the van was in the driveway.

“Xander.” Wesley stuck his hand out while shifting bags with the other.

They shook and Xander reached out to help him. “Need a hand?”

“If you wouldn’t mind?” Gesturing toward the back of the van, Wesley continued, “There’s still more there. You don’t mind, do you?”

“Nope. This is easy stuff.” Moving as he spoke, Xander didn’t hesitate to grab the bags, not realizing what was in them.

Anya had gone right into the house, trailing after the girls, for once lost in her own thoughts. She really wasn’t sure what was going on with her and Xander.

Dawn was emptying the grocery bags, putting everything away, while Tara sorted through the baby things, getting bottles and nipples boiling and gathering up the clothing so that it could all be washed before they got him dressed.

Oz was carrying the box containing the small crib up the stairs when Anya realized what the majority of the supplies were. “What’s all this stuff for?”

Both of the other girls froze, sharing a look.


~*~*~


Neither one of them had moved in the long minutes after his promise not to kill Xander, content to just be together. Buffy was so grateful that he was here with her that she finally had nothing more to say. Everything that she could say had been said.

Spike was thinking much along the same lines; except he would be content to stay like this, here with her, for the rest of their days. Which would be a very long time from today. He wasn’t going to…he was going to see to it that she lived a very long life and when she finally died of a very old ancient age, he was going to go with her. They’d face that together. And maybe, just maybe, he’d be granted a gift…but he wasn’t going to bank on that. Spike just wanted here and now. After could take care of itself.

His morbid train of thoughts was halted when there was a knock on the door. “Company, love.”

Grumbling slightly, Buffy got up and opened the door to find Oz standing there a huge flat box in his hands. “Whatcha got there?”

“Baby crib.” Trying to shrug, he ended up dropping one end, narrowly missing their feet. “Not sure where to put it.”

Sharing a look with Spike, Buffy motioned him in. “Best place is probably here.”

There wasn’t much room, but Buffy looked around, trying to find a good location for the crib. Spike pointed a finger at the corner by the window. “Put him there for now.”

While they were working, Oz said, “Ran into Willow at the market.”

As the other two shared a look, he continued, “Something’s not right. Got a whiff of something…” He shrugged. “Tara might know more.”

“She saw you two together?” Buffy stared at Oz while Spike waited for his answer.

“Yeah. She got all flustered.” He reached for a slat. “Think she jumped to a weird conclusion.”

Spike laughed. “Gave Red somethin’ to think about?”

“Yeah.” Turning his attention back to the crib, Oz didn’t catch the looks passing between the couple.

Buffy was confused. “But you’re just friends, right?”

“Yeah.”

She stared at him for a few more minutes, but Oz didn’t say anything else.

Between the slayer and the werewolf, by the time Xander and Wesley had finished unloading everything else from the van, they had the crib set up and ready for the baby.


~*~*~


It was long past midnight, but Rupert wasn’t ready to return to his hotel. There was still so much to be done and his time here in London, must, as a necessity, be short. Too much going on back home in Sunnydale for him to comfortably stay here.

Are we never going to get a break? Just once, Rupert thought, could we forego a weekly crisis? Seemed like it always happened like this. Whenever there was a lull, it never meant a cessation; it was merely the Hellmouth taking a time out.

Maybe it was time to think about closing the Hellmouth.

Rupert shook off that thought, realizing now it was not the time, because the research on that alone would take far more time than he currently had. Right then, gaffer, back to the matter at hand.

Vampire pregnancies– found. Sidebar to demon-friendly neurosurgeons- found. Housing and/or living expenses for the Slayer- he’d presented that proposal to Travers more than two days ago, the day after his arrival. The senior staffers were discussing the matter; they’d have an answer for him by Tuesday. Which was good, because he’d just made up his mind to depart for home on Wednesday. With or without all the information he needed.

So far the Council archives had yielded little information about the monks. He was beginning to believe that omission wasn’t the result of ignorance or even a case of misplaced records. Truth was, the journals were missing, and quite possibly deliberately so. The monks had already proven to him through their own journals that they were more than adequate sorcerers and they had, up until very recently, controlled an inter-dimensional Key. Perhaps, in their spare time, they’d figured out time travel.

A very real rational part of him was able to dismiss that notion almost outright. Problem was, another equally rational part believed it was entirely possible. Which presented its own set of problems.

If, in fact, the monks could do so, then Giles had to wonder how much of their “history” was real and not constructed. He also had no way of verifying whether or not they were even humans that originated in the dimension they currently inhabited. Giles realized with a start that all of this was pure conjecture on his part and, at the moment, counter-productive with regard to his search. And it would be time wasted that he needed to focus elsewhere.

The monks were, at the moment, a lost cause. But quite possibly more information was contained in the monks’ journals.

Right. Wasn’t there something else? Giles fought the fatigue but was forced to concede to it when he found himself reading the same paragraph for a third time.

Pack it in for the night, old man. Gathering up his books and replacing them on the shelves, Giles made his way out into the waning hours of the London night.


~*~*~


The baby was asleep and Spike was drifting off after another dose of morphine and some other-than-Buffy blood. They were both on the bed, the baby on his belly and Spike flat on his back. They are, she thought watching them settle in, adorable. Spike’s chest was rising and falling needlessly. She wondered if maybe he did this because he was still in pain and unable to hide it in sleep.

Brushing a kiss across his forehead, then doing it again for good measure, Buffy smiled. It was getting harder and harder to fight her feelings. And really, why should she be putting so much energy into fighting the feelings? Wasn’t like there was something to hide– and if she were being truthful about this, she was pretty much in love with him anyway, so why couldn’t she tell him that? Well, that wasn’t entirely true either. Because earlier, when they were talking – she had told him how she was feeling. She just hadn’t said those three words. Maybe she could just – build up to them. Practice saying them. Sort of like memorizing something for school…like MacBeth’s speech…or a poem for English. Yeah. That’s what she’d do.

Leaning over him one more time, Buffy brushed a third kiss on his forehead, whispering very softly, “I love you Spike.”

Reluctantly heading for the door, Buffy never saw the slight smile cross Spike’s face, nor did she hear the hitch in his breathing as she left the bedroom.

On her way to the stairs, Buffy was hoping there was something ready to eat. She was tired and hungry and really not looking forward to all the questions and problems.

Stopping at the landing, Buffy very nearly went back up into the bedroom. That room was…sanctuary. Safe.

Numerous voices sounded from the kitchen and she could hear Dawn and Tara talking, Wesley’s voice, and Xander. When did Xander get here? Is Anya with him? Hesitating once more, Buffy stood indecisively on the stairs, half turned back to the bedroom. She was poised to do just that when Xander’s voice caught her attention.

“Hey, Buffster, how are ya?” Xander looked up at her from the bottom of the stairs.

Blowing out a breath, Buffy said hello, then headed down toward him.


~*~*~


Humans were ridiculously easy to kill. He’d forgotten that fact and the fact that they were, as a whole, pretty trusting, which just made things all the easier for him. It was full dark now and he’d already drained two. Nothing compared to the taste of human blood right from the source. Fresh blood zinging through his veins, Angel stalked through the streets of Los Angeles, heading straight for the Hyperion, for some insane reason. He really didn’t know why he was heading this way. There was probably nothing there for him.

Wesley wasn’t stupid, neither was Cordelia, and it was more than likely they’d gone undergound and were now hiding. Even so, he needed a few things from there– clean clothes and… son of a bitch. Wesley had his car.

He needed to get himself some wheels. Jumping from building to building was fun, but really, it wasn’t like this was London or Paris where in the older sections the buildings were closer together. No, this was L.A., where the buildings were artfully designed with space in between them and, really, he needed a set of wheels. Watching the street, Angelus started picking out the kind of car he wanted. Something flashy…something…and hey, this was Los Angeles…flashy was de rigeur…

Spying a Viper stopped at a light, Angelus smiled. Yeah. A Viper would do. Sprinting toward it, Angel smiled again. It wasn’t pretty.

Killing was simple.

Killing was easy.

And he was really going to enjoy destroying everyone’s lives– stripping away everything dear to them first. Filling his mind with how and who and when, Angel pressed the accelerator of his newly acquired ride.


~*~*~


Figuring everyone was hungry and knowing it was going to be an early night, Tara hastily got pasta and sauce going after starting a load of baby laundry. Bottles and nipples were sterilizing away on the back burner and Dawn was chopping vegetables while Anya roved about. She and Dawn had asked Anya to wait until Wesley and Buffy were in the kitchen before they told her and Xander everything.

Once the supplies had all be unloaded, Wesley had headed right for the shower, since he was now working on three days in the same clothing and he really needed to be clean.

She heard Xander call up to Buffy, while Oz was coming in the back door. “Everything’s secure.”

Anya’s ears perked up and she knew something very serious was going on- perhaps even more serious than just Angelus being on the loose.

Xander preceded Buffy into the kitchen and it was fairly obvious that the Slayer wasn’t happy. Whether it was the situation or just the fact she would rather be hovering over Spike, Tara had no idea. But she kind of guessed that if it were her lover upstairs near death, she’d want to be close, damn all other responsibilities.

“He sleeping?” Tara looked up from making sauce to catch Buffy’s eye.

“Yeah. He’s exhausted.”

“Buffy?” Dawn stopped what she was doing to watch her sister. When the older Summers girl looked up, Dawn asked, “How is he?”

Her smile was genuine, but still very tired. “Better. He says the headache is gone and he’s talking, so his jaw is much better. Says the ribs are healed and that he’s all itchy.”

Shrugging a bit, she snagged some of the vegetables that were on the counter. “I’m so hungry.”

The other two girls shared a look when Xander snarked, “What happened to the bleached wonder?”

Again it was Tara that answered, but halfway into the story, Buffy started speaking. “He saved Dawnie from the Knights of Byzantium last night. He…” She paused, trying to swallow her tears. “He took…he got badly beaten for Dawnie. Again.”

‘What? I thought the knights went buh-bye when the portal got closed and we beat Glory? How come they’re back?”

“Not sure, Xander. Don’t really know why we thought Dawn’s danger stopped with Glory. Just because that skanky hellbitch is gone, doesn’t mean someone else won’t try to open up another doorway using Dawn.” The fatigue was evident in Buffy’s voice.

Dawn’s hand was clenching and unclenching around the knife, a muscle in her cheek jumping. If anyone were to look closely at her, the resemblance to her real father was remarkable– but no one noticed.

Anya caught her hand, releasing the knife. “Let me Dawn.”

“This isn’t good, Buffy. What does Giles say about all this?” Xander leaned back against the refrigerator, his arms crossed.

Before anyone could answer Xander’s question, Anya’s voice filled the silence. “What about Angelus? Wesley didn’t tell me anything. And how did Giles know all about this?”

Wesley’s footsteps sounded on the stairs and the now familiar sounds of a wailing infant accompanied him. Fumbling apologetically, Wesley said, “Spike’s awake again.”

Anya gaped at the infant in Wesley’s arms while Xander said “Whoa! What the hell is that?”

Throwing an exasperated look at Xander, Buffy reached for the baby, rescuing Wesley. “That is just what it looks like, Xander. It’s a baby.”

“Sounds like gas. Try rubbing his back.” Tara glanced over at Buffy, noting she’d already thought of that.

Sniffing a bit, Buffy said, “He needs a change of clothes, too.” Grabbing the diapers and wipes, she headed for the living room.

“Whose baby is that?” Anya’s voice was quiet yet strangely wavering.

Buffy’s voice wafted in from the other room, “Your turn, Wes.”

“Yes. Well. It’s…um.” Wes hesitated, clearly at a loss. “Connor is…well, he’s the child of Darla and Angel.”

Buffy’s muted, “So he does have a name,” was completely over looked because of the clamoring in the kitchen.

“What!” Xander’s outburst rang through the house. “That’s not possible. Vampire’s can’t…and wait! Darla was dusted years ago.”

“She was mystically resurrected by Wolfram & Hart, who represent many of, well, they are lawyers and-” Wesley was trying to explain when Anya interrupted him.

“They represent demon clients and very unscrupulous humans. Wolfram & Hart are a force to be reckoned with and they have offices all over this world and quite a few in other dimensions as well.”

“Impressive people.” Oz had been quiet up until then.

“You have no idea. Their resources are endless. And their influence is immeasurable.” Wesley had regained his equilibrium, continuing, “How they managed to resurrect Darla, I’m not entirely certain, but the means appear to be quite different from Buffy’s case.”

“You’re sure of that?” Buffy came back into the kitchen, handed the baby off to Wesley, threw out the diaper, and headed for the sink to wash her hands.

“Reasonably. I know they used something called the Urn of Osiris, but beyond that I’ve not been completely able to discern.”

Standing by the sink, the water still running, Buffy turned to look at Wesley. “You mean to tell me there’s more than one way to resurrect someone?”

His answer was stark and chilling. “Yes.”

Turning back to the water, Buffy muttered something under her breath that no one heard fully.

“That still doesn’t explain the baby.” Xander’s brain was reeling. This was all so…so far beyond what he’d come to expect as normal that he didn’t know what to say.

“Angel and Darla had relations. More than once.” Looking down at the baby in his arms, Wesley said, “Darla left Los Angeles for a while and when she returned she was heavily pregnant. Connor was born last night. Darla…I believe Darla was deeply affected by the baby’s soul. She didn’t want to…she didn’t want to forget that she loved him. She staked herself so that she wouldn’t harm him after his birth.”

Buffy hadn’t known this and found herself strangely moved by Darla’s decision.

“That must have been hard.” Tara’s soft tones broke the silence and at Wesley’s nod, she took the baby from him. “So Darla sacrificed herself for the baby.”

“She did.”

“But how did Angel do that? I thought vampires couldn’t have babies.” Dawn’s tone was curious.

Wesley and Buffy shared a look, each uncertain but for different reasons, about sharing Angel’s theory. But Anya’s next words took the option of keeping silent from them.

“Because they can have babies. It takes a certain set of circumstances- mystical return from death and an intense relationship between the recently undead woman and a male vampire- and then the stork comes.” Anya looked around at everyone, smiling brightly. “I knew this girl once who fell in love with a vampire. She was killed and he forced some witch to bring her back and the next thing you knew; she was pregnant.”

All eyes shifted from Connor to Buffy, who held up her hands. “No…um…nope.”

Not that I don’t want to be…I’m just not. Yet. Maybe.

Dawn sighed a little but kept silent, when what she wanted to do was yell hooray, because if that meant Buffy could get pregnant- she might someday have real, honest-to-God siblings.

Xander on the other hand, was freaking out. ‘This is not good. We don’t know what this kid will be like. He could be a bloodsucker. He could be an evil little demon. So not good.”

“We don’t know enough, Xander. None of us can tell yet what these babies are going to be like.” No one but Tara caught Buffy’s slip of the tongue, but the witch didn’t point it out.

“Spike says it doesn’t matter where you come from, only what you do with the present and future that matter,” Dawn piped in with her comment.

“Right and he would say that because he doesn’t want anyone looking too closely at his past.”

“Really? Sounds like a positive outlook to me, makes sense actually.” Wesley was shaking his head in agreement.

“Spike’s not the only one who has to worry about a past. I was a vengeance demon for over a thousand years, Xander. There’s lots of stuff I did.”

“That’s different, Ahn. You have a soul now. You’re human.” Xander shrugged off her past.

With an apologetic smile at Anya, Tara said, “So it’s okay because she’s human now, but it’s not okay for Spike because he’s still a vampire?” She paused for a moment, waiting to see if Xander would try and defend himself. “Even with all the good things he’s been doing…none of that matters?”

“He doesn’t have a soul. He’s not going to keep this up. All he has is a chip that keeps him from killing everyone.”

“So Spike couldn’t go out and get minions to do all his dirty work? Couldn’t set up situations where all of us die?” Buffy was getting more and more angry with his attitude.

“Well, I guess he could do those things.” Xander didn’t want to concede the point.

“Right. So?” And Buffy’s further comment was forestalled by the sound of the doorbell.

It had them all confused until Buffy moved toward the door first. She wasn’t really prepared for the sight before her. Her face broke out in a smile and a giggle slipped past her lips. The ‘c’mon in’ she half-laughed while trying to get out a ‘Dawn’ was impossible.

Still laughing, she motioned the figure to follow her.

“Dawn?”

The teenager picked up her head and gasped out a surprised, “Casey?”

She wasn’t sure it was him, because all she could see was a hand and a pair of legs. His voice sounded from behind the fistful of balloons. “Hey, Dawn.”

“Casey?” Dawn got up from her chair and circled round the balloons.

What had Buffy laughing so hard was the assortment of balloons. They were mostly mylars, and there were ‘over-the-hills’, ‘get-well-soons’, ‘happy-birthdays’ and ‘congratulations, it’s a girl’ and Buffy pointed at them, nudging Tara.

The two girls were smiling and Tara whispered, “Why don’t you take a couple up to Spike. Dinner won’t be ready for a bit.”

Dawn must’ve had the same thought, because she took the balloons from Casey, explaining to him that Spike had gotten hurt and he was upstairs in bed. Handing off the balloons to her sister, Dawn steered Casey out into the backyard where there weren’t so many prying eyes.



Kind of nervous about this one. Please let me know what you think about it. Slainte, Nia


I just found out I got nominated for Best Author at Love's Last Glimpse. Whichever one of you lovely readers did that, you have my thanks. I'd love to know who did it. . . . so I can thank you personally.

[A/N: I just want to thank you all for being so patient and for all your lovely reviews. Your kind words mean a lot to me. Okay. So can anyone tell me how come the first thing Angel always does when he goes “bad” or loses his soul he puts on leather pants? Leather pants aren’t necessarily evil...anyway. Another thing is soul-free doesn’t necessarily mean emotionless – it just means (in my opinion) that there is no emotional attachment to any “bad” or “evil” act – no guilt, no remorse, nothing. There might however, be some affection towards others, but that is minor. The title is from Cindy Lauper’s tune (but really, its just a cliche and the lyrics don’t really apply) and the quotes are as attributed. Disclaimers in full force and effect]

Previously: Everyone’s back at Revello Drive, except for Willow. Angelus is on his way to Sunnydale, determined to remove the one obstacle to his soul’s return...this picks up shortly after the last.


Book Two. Chapter 14. True Colors

Though I cannot be said to be a flattering honest man,
it must not be denied but I am a plain-dealing villain.
Much Ado About Nothing, act I, sc. iii

the pulse of the hero beats in unison with the pulse of
nature, and he steps to the measure of the universe;
then there is true courage and invincible strength.
Henry David Thoreau, A Week on the Concord and Merrimack Rivers


He decided he was going to keep a running body count. This way he’d know it was a good day by the number of drained humans he left behind. Today was shaping up as a good one– well, technically it was night.

Three dead in Los Angeles. Two dead on the highway. And who knew how many more after he got to Sunnydale.

This was fun. The kind of fun he hadn’t had in years. Not even the last time – well, Drusilla had been…he closed his eyes for a moment, sending a call through the bond. She might recognize it. Hell, she might even come…and wouldn’t that be another kick. If she did…if Drusilla did come, he’d be assured of some very fine cock sucking. Not that Drusilla wasn’t a good lay, but her true talents were elsewhere. The best benefit of not having to breathe– hours upon hours of oral sex. And Drusilla was the best…well. second best cocksucker he’d ever had the pleasure of being with.

So if Drusilla responded to his Sire’s call, good. Even if she didn’t, that was also good. Either way, because once he’d taken care of everything in Sunnydale, he would have all the time in the world to find her.

Teach her not to disobey a Sire’s call. Discipline Daddy’s little girl.

His sneer turned into an outright smug leer.

Oh, yeah.

He was looking forward to some discipline. Maybe he’d keep Buffy alive while he disciplined Spike– remind him of some things he’d apparently forgotten.

Flipping the radio stations, Angelus finally found one he liked. Singing very badly and uncaring of that, he drove on toward Sunnydale.


~*~*~


Leaving everyone in the kitchen, Dawn dragged Casey out onto the back porch, without a word or sparing anyone else a glance.

Plopping down on the top step, Dawn tucked her long legs under and looked up at Casey. Sitting down next to her, he stole a glance from the corner of his eye. “You okay?”

“Yeah.” The tone of her voice made that statement the lie that it was.

“I was worried, you know. Called you earlier and no one answered.” He shrugged a bit, playing with the frayed knee of his jeans.

“We had to go out for a bit. Had to get stuff.” Thinking quickly, she said, “Wesley’s place was destroyed in a fire last night and his, well, everything is gone.”

“That sucks.” Casey leaned back, resting his weight on his elbows. “How’s Spike?”

He’d thought it was a simple question, but instead of answering, Dawn just started quietly crying all over again. ‘Dawn? I’m sorry. What happened? Hey, c’mon. He’s okay, right?”

Dawn couldn’t answer him. She was trying so hard not to cry that the tears just kept falling.

“Dawn? Is he gonna be okay?” Casey was really concerned now, so he leaned up and touched her back.

And she crumpled, resting her head against him, her hands fisted awkwardly against his stomach. “He’s my…like my father, you know? My big brother, and he’s like…he’s…he’s the strongest person I’ve ever known and the stupidest and he could’ve gotten killed last night and he was trying to protect me and…he’s a jerk, you know?” Taking a hiccupping breath, she went on, “He’s Spike. He’d do anything to keep me safe and those wa-wankers that hurt him should die and…they should all just freaking die.”

Casey put his arm around her shoulder, just holding her, listening to her until she finally couldn’t talk any more.


~*~*~


He wasn’t really awake, more like drifting in a haze, especially since Wesley had come in and taken the sprog. At least he thought it was Oxford. Could’ve been his brother Gordon…no, Gordie died when he was eight, wasn’t him…wasn’t Ripper…Spike knew his brain was fried. Morphine was great…bloody great! Good stuff for pain. Itchy no more. Some stupid tune was running through his brain and he couldn’t remember the damn words. Where’s Buffy? Didn’t like letting her out of his sight, not since she’d come back…his girl wasn’t gonna get hurt again, not ever. Sunshine, she was, light in his dark…given m’everythin’. Love her. Can’t get that damn song outta m’head. Bloody tune.

Humming only slightly off key, Spike thought he was dreaming when he heard her voice calling his name. “Buffy…my Buffy,” he chuckled, imagining she was kneeling on the bed, her hands smoothing the sheet and pulling up the…hey. “Buffy? Not dreamin’ am I?”

She giggled a bit. His ramblings were actually cute and she wondered if she should tell him that he’d said all of that out loud, including the bit about his brother. “No Spike, you aren’t dreaming, but it’s a good thing for you all those thoughts were about me.”

“Love you, kitten.” His words were drawled, each one drawn and husky, sending shivers down her spine. “F’r’ever. Always. ‘Til we’re ol’ and gray.”

Despite his almost drunken state, Buffy knew he hadn’t meant that to be cruel. “We aren’t gonna get old. You won’t age and I’ve got an early expiration date.”

“Nope. Not gonna let you go alone. You go, I go. Pair. Mates. F’rever.” He pulled her close, his arm lacking its usual strength. “Love you, kitten. Gonna grow old…figger it out. Love you.”

She found herself listening more to the sound of his voice than his words, but somewhere in the back of her mind, Buffy heard them. And as crazy as it sounded, she believed him. He’d come up with some crazy, insane, hair-brained idea and somehow he’d make it work. Her head was against his chest, her face in the hollow of his throat, his arm clamped around her body. She kissed his skin and Spike felt the ripples warming him.

That damn tune was back in his head and he couldn’t help humming it.

“Spike? Do you realize you’re humming Patsy Cline?” He could feel Buffy’s smile against his skin and he didn’t care what caused it.

“‘S a good song.” He didn’t care, it was just the damn thing was in his head and he couldn’t shake it. “Heard her sing it once, jus’ b’fore she died. Nice voice.”

They lapsed into silence, the only sounds drifting up from downstairs and the muted voices from everyone in the house. Everything was hushed, the October breeze ruffling the curtains on the open windows and the moonlight just starting to spill in through the glass. Her arm curled up around his shoulder, the other one resting against his injured right arm, her hand worming its way underneath his shoulder almost of its own volition. Spike’s good hand began running up and down her back, his fingers sometimes getting caught in loose tangles of her hair.

There hadn’t been many moments like this in her life, where she was just content to sit still and be. There’d always been something else to cause a distraction, some other thing needing her immediate attention. Even with Riley, she hadn’t been able to really relax, to trust in what they had enough to just let go. Come to think of it, had she ever really trusted Riley? Not the same way she trusted Spike. Because despite all the good things, Riley had done some really, really bad and hurtful things to her. In fact, their whole relationship had started out with lies on both their parts, but she wasn’t supposed to tell people about being the Slayer. The cheating on her didn’t help Riley’s cause either. Sleeping with Faith while they’d been body swapped– that was so not good that, even now, almost two years later, it still hurt. The vamp whores? No…that wasn’t good either. That was so far from good, it was in another country. And the bit with him blaming her for going to the whores? She wasn’t quite sure how that worked, because in her mind, it had still been cheating. You don’t cheat on your partner, you either split or you work things out.

Spike was humming again. She wasn’t sure this time what the song was, because she didn’t recognize the melody at all, but apparently it was one he remembered. His chest was rising and falling again in time with her own breathing. She wondered if he knew he did that or if it was just his body’s unconscious way of adjusting to the closest person. She kind of liked the idea of him breathing in time with her, no matter who else was in the room. It made them more…joined. Or something like that.

Somehow the universe was playing a huge joke on her, because the truly evil vampire, the one without a soul, the self-professed Big Bad, was the only guy she’d ever been around who hadn’t lied to her. Not once. Not ever. Even Giles had lied to her. And Xander’s lies? She could write at least a chapter on Xander’s lies- starting with the little forgotten moment when he’d tried to rape her, and then lied about not remembering it.

The man lying in bed with her had not ever lied to her. He’d been threatening, angry, violent, but never ever had he lied to her about anything. Not his intentions, his plans, or his feelings. He valued honesty, which was just even more ironic, because demons weren’t big on truthfulness. Most of them anyway.

His eyes were closed and he was just lying there, enjoying the peace and quiet. There was no one that mattered but the two of them and he didn’t care what else was about to happen. What was coming for…he felt it…that unconscious, instinctive call, the one sent out through the blood line. Fuck. Angelus. He hadn’t forgotten, but in light of his own situation, he’d pushed the issue of Angelus aside. Bloody bastard’s comin’ here. He didn’t want to do this, didn’t want to disturb the peace…

“Kitten? He’s headin’ this way. Comin’ for us.”

A heavy breath blew across his neck, warming him yet chilling him at the same time. ‘Sort of knew that. Figured he’d take out his people first.”

“No, sweetheart. He’s on his way now. Need to get Oxford and Glinda up here. Need to talk about this.” Spike drifted for a long moment, long enough for her to think he’d fallen asleep, so his voice startled her. “Should get the bot out patrolin’. Maybe the whelp can go w’it.”

Buffy laid there for a few more minutes to see if he was going to say anything else and when he stayed silent, she asked very quietly, very strongly, “How much would you have to take to be up and around?”

He knew damn well what she meant and he didn’t want to get into this now. Not tonight. Not again. He should have known this wasn’t settled. “Too much. Don’ ask me again.”

Oh, he was angry. She could feel it. His entire body had tensed up and she could see his jaw clenching and unclenching as he held his temper in check. Getting up from her spot, Buffy placed her hands on either side of his head, staring down at his face, noting the softness of his gaze as he looked up at her. “Spike, I…don’t want anyone else with me for this. You and I can do this together, he’s not strong enough to take both of us…and he’s alone, right? No one’s with him…”

“Near as I can tell.” He hesitated a bit, reluctant to admit to her that he could feel this. “He used the Sire bond, callin’ to Dru, but he’s one of the oldest of the line…we all feel it.”

Another deep breath blew against him “Right then. So he’s alone.” Thinking a minute or two, she tried to remember everything about Angelus. “He won’t come for us right away. He’ll try to pick us off one by one, right?”

“Yeah. No one goes out near dark alone. No one.” Thinking hard, Spike said, “Rather you keep Niblet home, not let her out a’all.”

“Good idea.” Then in a rush, “How…if you drink again tonight and again all day tomorrow…how soon will you be up?”

“Will you not let this go?” God, she was a stubborn bitch.

“No. I’m not going to until you give me a better answer.” She got that look in her eye he hated, that Slayer bitch on wheels look, the one that made him want to slug her.

Closing his eyes and praying for patience, Spike ground out, “Three more good feedings, or so. Not much more than that. All right? Happy now?”

Her left hand cupped his cheek. “Look at me, Spike, please?” Her thumb brushed over his lips, tracing the lines, her eyes searching his face. “Spike…Slayer here, remember? I’ll be fine. I need you to be fine also.”

“Buffy. We have time to wait. He won’t come except to taunt us, at least not right away. We’ve got time for me to rest a bit.” Thinking a second, he said, “M’promise, kitten. He wants us scared enough to make mistakes. ‘M not making any.”

His good hand brushed away a tear and he pulled her down to his lips. “Love you. Now, go get Oxford and Glinda.”


~*~*~


Anya had Connor now, his head resting on her shoulder, while Tara made the final preparations for dinner. Wesley was questioning Xander on what he remembered of Angelus last time, while Oz listened, sometimes adding his own comments.

Deciding not to wait for Buffy to come downstairs, Tara set out plates and transferred full bowls to the counter. Sticking her head out the door, she realized Dawn was crying and Casey was a bit overwhelmed.

“Dawnie?”

“Hey.” the younger girl wiped her eyes and pulled herself away from Casey. “Sorry. Guess I’m tired and…sorry, Case.”

Smiling at her shyly, he said, “I’d be a really crappy boyfriend if I complained. Don’t worry about it.”

Dawn ducked her head, a blush spreading across her face.

Tara found herself smiling at the two of them. “Dinner’s ready, you’re welcome to stay, Casey.”

“Thanks. That’s cool.”

Giving them a few minutes, she slipped back inside to find everyone eating, including Buffy, who was trying to talk and eat at the same time. “No one goes out alone, unless it’s broad daylight. If it’s close, we travel in pairs. We need to come up with some kind of survival, self-defense thing so that if he does get one of us, we can get away.”

“You mean like crosses and holy water?”

“Yes, Anya, that’s exactly what I mean. Emergency kits. And we all have cell phones, right?” Buffy was gesturing with her fork, trying to eat as fast as possible.

“I want one of these. This is wonderful.” Anya looked at Xander. “Can we have one, please?”

“One what?” Xander was suddenly very afraid of what she was going to ask for.

“A baby. I want babies, Xander. Can we have one now?”

A very pained look crossed his features, something akin to a grimace and embarrassment. “Can we not talk about this?” He threw a quick look around the room, but no one was actually willing to meet his eyes.

“Why? Why can’t we talk about this?” Anya was at a loss. What was wrong about talking about having babies?

“The timing isn’t right, Ahn. Maybe we could talk about this later, after we get home, okay?” He was desperately trying to change the subject, anything to get away from this topic.

“Fine, Xander Harris, you always want to talk about things later. What about when I want to talk about things? Does it matter to you that I want to talk about this now? Or that I want to talk about this in front of Buffy ?” Anya bristled when he tried shushing her, moving away from his gesturing hands.

Xander took hold of her arm and Anya pulled away from him, misjudging the strength of his grip, and she teetered off-balance, trying not to lose the baby or fall at the same time, and she was in real danger of falling hard when Wesley reached out a hand, bracing her against him.

“Xander!? What are you doing?” Everyone stared at him, while Anya got her bearings back, trying to comfort the scared and crying baby. “What is wrong with you? Can’t you see I had the baby?”

Anya moved away from Wesley, thanking him for helping her, then purposely turned her back on Xander and went into the living room to sit down. Her legs were shaking badly and she couldn’t get a deep breath. What just happened had scared her, badly. She needed to do some thinking.

The other four adults shared a look over Xander’s bowed head, none of them willing to comment too closely on what had just happened.

“I didn’t mean to grab at her.” His low voiced comment elicited no response, because not a one of them could really believe what they’d just witnessed. It had looked, from almost every view, like Xander was going to shake Anya, whether she had the baby in her arms or not. And that was not good.

There was a long painful silence in the kitchen, when finally Buffy said, “Tara? Wes? Spike wants to talk to you both. When you’re done eating, maybe you should come upstairs.”

Dumping what was left on her plate into the garbage, Buffy left the kitchen to go back up to her bedroom, more than Angelus on her mind now.


~*~*~


She never shuts up. Always talking about things at the worse possible times. Why does she always have to bring up our relationship when everyone’s around?

Xander stared at his hands as they flexed against the counter. Sometimes he wished she’d just keep her mouth shut. What the hell did she want to have a baby for? He was only twenty-one, he wasn’t ready for any of this – a girlfriend, yeah – full time sex, yeah – fiancee, he wasn’t so sure, but, well, he’d already asked her. But that didn’t mean they had to get married right away – they could have a long engagement, really long. But babies? Nahuh.

And why the hell was she cuddling that demon brat anyway? Kid shouldn’t even be possible, and now Buffy could – the same thing could happen to her. How disgusting was that? And why would she want to? Xander figured that was probably the worst thing she could do.

Buffy wasn’t like that. All this Spike stuff, he couldn’t – refused to think of it as love – had to be the result of some side effect of the spell Willow had done to bring her back. Couldn’t be because she actually liked him or anything. So when the after effects wear off, she’ll toss Spike out on his ass and the worthless blood-sucking bastard will leave. And that’s good.

Firmly convinced once more that all this was going to end soon, Xander apologized to the other two adults. None of them, not even Xander himself, was really sure what he was apologizing for.


Okay, lemme know what you think about this one, becuase it nearly got completely scrapped.