Origins: Revelations
by Niamh


[A/N: Its been really slow going. I’m sorry. I can’t push it any more than I am. I had some of these chapters already written in anticipation of something like this happening, but I ended up posting nearly all of them. So now I’m stuck. Trying to play catch up with myself. Things will hopefully start to look up as certain real life situations get resolved, but don’t bank on updates any quicker than once a week. Hopefully I won’t lose any of my lovely readers. *hugs to each and every one of you*. Title is from Alfred Lord Tennyson, Locksley Hall and the quotes are as attributed. Disclaimers in full force and effect. I own nothing]

Previously: Dawn has spilled the beans about her genetic roots; Giles gave a brief explanation regarding vampire pregnancies; and Willow and Angelus have had a confrontation. This is later that same evening.



Book Two. Chapter 20. Wisdom Lingers


A little knowledge that acts
is worth infinitely more than much
knowledge that is idle.
Kahlil Gibran, In A Second Treasury of Kahlil Gibran

Our most bitter enemies are our own kith and kin
Kings have no brothers, no sons, no mother!
Honoré De Balzac, Catherine de Medici expliquée, Souverain



Darla had been a potential.

It explained so much about her, who she was, why she was so formidable, and why, years after she’d dusted, Darla’s actions and memory still haunted Buffy. It also explained why the Master had turned her, why Angelus and the rest of them were so strong, why they rose to master vampire status so quickly. Even poor Drusilla, poor Drusilla? Where the hell did that come from, Buffy? Buffy shook her head at her own thoughts. Even Drusilla must have benefited from the infusion of potential slayer blood.

Glancing up at Spike, she wondered just how much her blood affected him. She knew it was powerful. He’d said so more than once, but she wondered what the long term effects might be on him. Would he be stronger? Would he be quicker to heal with regular infusions of her blood? Almost guessing the train of her thoughts by the expression on her face, Spike knelt down by her side, pulling her into his embrace. His voice was a low hum in her ear, his words whispered so that only she could hear him.

“Explains a lot now, what Rupert’s sayin’. Never would’ve imagined it. Darla always was a right bitch, and more powerful than she looked. Downright scary sometimes.”

Wesley was staring down at the baby, who was wriggling around on the blanket, Buffy’s hand covering his belly. “So the boy has slayer and vampire strength in him.”

Giles cleared his throat, preparing to speak, when Dawn’s voice broke through the heavy atmosphere. “Buffy? What does that mean?”

Oh, God. Dawn. Buffy looked at Spike, both of them realizing at that instant that not only was Connor the child of a slayer and a vampire, but so was Dawn. The panic in her voice was clear, at least to both of them, but no one else in the room caught the emotion.

“Niblet?” Spike’s gaze shifted to where she stood in the doorway, phone in hand and a concerned look on her face. He could hear the buzzing of the disconnection from where he was and he got to his feet, walking toward her. “C’mon, sweet bit, hang up the phone.”

He took the phone from her, hanging it up on the receiver, leading her to the couch. “Why don’t we let Giles tell us what it might mean before we all go off the deep end.”

“I’m not sure what it means. Most of the children were out of the Council’s…their fathers…” The former watcher faltered for a moment, then continued. “It appears that the children were spirited away for their own safety. One of the girls – Sorcha of Clan MacDonald – one of her children, a boy by the name of Seamus, was taken into custody by the Council. He died while in the Council’s custody and both of his parents disappeared with their other children shortly after.”

“There’s no record of what happened to the others. They just simply disappeared and there were no details surrounding the rest of their lives.” His comments were greeted with silence, Buffy and Spike lost in their own thoughts concerning both the children.

Buffy lifted Connor off the floor, holding him against her breast. Spike pivoted to face Giles, tension radiating off him in waves as he partially blocked Giles’ view of the two Summers girls.

Giles, sensing the impending fight, raised his hands in an effort to calm Spike’s temper. “Relax. The Council has no knowledge of Connor’s existence– or his lineage. And,” he added, “I felt no compelling need to enlighten them. The baby should be safe for the time being.”

“As safe as he can be with his insane father sniffing around.” Dawn’s voice was laced with sarcasm and it was Wesley’s quietly spoken words that shocked them all.

“Until we can eliminate the threat Angelus poses, hiding Connor might not be a bad idea.”

“Eliminate?” Tara questioned him while Buffy and Spike shared a long look.

“One way or another we are going to have to deal with Angel.” Giles responded to Tara’s question, his attention caught by the sight of his slayer holding onto the baby while Spike looked down into her eyes.

“Your decision, Pet.” They both knew Spike’s carefully worded statement pertained to Dawn as well as Connor and that admitting it out loud was just going to just add to the confusion and turmoil of the moment.

Buffy shook her head, refusing to think about letting either of them go. “No. Not now. He’s still safe here with us.”

The unspoken second half of that was that Dawn would still be safe with them was clear, at least to Spike, and his eyes only wavered from hers to glance briefly down at Dawn, who was watching their exchange very carefully. He smiled at the teenager then shifted his gaze back to the other Englishman. “Right then, Rupes, what else have you got?”

Giles motioned Spike to sit, himself moving to take the chair that Spike had vacated earlier. This next part was going to be tricky. Giles didn’t once fool himself about that and he braced himself for the outcry and the outright refusal he was certain to encounter.

“I did some additional research while I was in the Council’s library, following what happened with Dawn and the knights.” Buffy sat down on the coffee table, angled toward Giles, while Wesley settled against the fireplace and the others found seats in various spots around the room, realizing this was going to be an involved discussion.

“Spike’s injuries while protecting Dawn from the knights could have been avoided.” Giles knew he was drawing this out, prolonging the moment, but he couldn’t for the life of him just open this up for discussion, without some sort of introduction.

“Not bloody likely. Got this hardware that prevents certain actions.” Spike’s tone of voice, and his words, cut through the room, and Giles had his opening.

Throwing a somewhat grateful gaze in his direction, one that he hoped Spike didn’t incorrectly interpret, Giles said, “Well, yes, that is true. But I believe it’s time to discuss the chip and its removal.”

Instead of the upheaval and outrage he fully expected and had doubly prepared himself for, his statement was greeted with complete and utter silence. So much so that the only noise was Connor’s quick inhalations and the ticking of the clock on the wall. No one moved and no one spoke.

Time crept forward slowly as Giles waited for the hue and cry of denials that never came. His gaze moved from Spike’s still figure standing in the middle of the room to Buffy’s seated form. Dawn had shifted forward, as did Wesley, but like Tara and Oz, neither spoke. There was a quiet giggle, and Giles looked about for the source, when it was joined by another low chuckle and all eyes were riveted on the blond couple. Buffy looked up at Spike, who turned to face her, amusement playing about his lips and her stifled giggle broke into a full laugh.

Misinterpreting the reason behind Buffy’s laughter, Giles attempted to interrupt her, but it proved impossible as she sank further into mirth.

Finally, after long minutes of relieved glee, Spike’s voice finally broke through enough to calm everyone else’s growing concern. “Thought we were goin’ to have a hell of a time tryin’ to convince you.”

He chuckled again, looking toward the love of his entire existence and smiled at her wide grin. She opened her mouth to speak and another series of giggles erupted. “Spike thought you would be the one to object.”

Giles trained his eyes on both of them, his senses suddenly alert. “You’ve talked about this?”

“Just Spike and I. Kinda wanted to wait until you were back. But I made up my mind while Spike was still out of it.” Buffy’s voice was steady, no hesitation or doubt present.

Spike braced himself for the arguments from the others in the room, and although he hoped there’d be none, he expected more than a token resistance to their decision.

“Have…have you decided how?” Tara’s voice broke the silence and, it seemed, everyone’s reluctance to speak, because Wesley then asked, “Is removal even possible?”

Dawn’s comment was, “About time the stupid thing came out. Stupid thing to do to a vampire anyway. What were they trying to do? Create some controllable demon army?”

“Bit? That’s exactly what they were plannin’.” Spike addressed her comments first, while Buffy fielded the others.

“Not sure if it can be removed, but we need to find out. Tara? Do you think you and Giles could check out magical means? We have a couple of options– either the Initiative or demon-friendly surgeons.”

“There’s always Dr. Thomas. He might be able to help.” Oz’ quiet voice drew Spike’s attention.

“Who’s that?”

“He’s the dude that fixed you up. Works at Sunnydale Memorial.” Oz leaned forward a little bit, his gaze intent on the vampire.

Giles surged to his feet, heading for his carry-on bag. “I brought a list of surgeons. I’m not certain he’s on it.”

“Might not be listed in Sunnydale. He’s from Pennsylvania, originally. Somewhere near Hershey Park, I think.”

Wesley said, “There’s a fair number of demon-friendly medical personnel in Los Angeles also, if you want to travel.”

“No.” Spike’s one word answer was softened when he continued, “don’t want Angelus catchin’ wind of this, so it’s got to happen here. Can maybe hide one or two people comin’ into Sunnyhell, but me leavin’? He’d know it quick enough. ‘M not leavin’ town for this.”

“Angelus? What’s he got to do with this?” Obviously there was something else he was missing, because Giles was suddenly confused.

“He knows about the chip, and he would be just twisted enough to send humans after Spike. Plus he knows Spike was injured. What he doesn’t know is how or why. And he can’t know or find out the real truth about Dawn.” There was a steely quality in Buffy’s last statement, almost as if she were warning the others.

“So we are going to find a way to remove the chip before Angel realizes its happening. And we’re going to confuse the hell out of him or at least try.” Buffy looked toward Giles, realizing he’d been too quiet in his lack of objections. “Giles?”

“Hhmmm?” Recognizing his distracted air had the feeling of disapproval, Giles shook himself. “Perhaps then a ruse to keep him occupied would be in order.”

“Huh?” Buffy looked to Spike for a translation while Wesley capitalized on the thought, his own internal cogs shifting into motion.

“The Buffybot.”

“‘Splain,” was Buffy’s clipped command.

“Angel knows about the chip. Knows Spike is injured. Do we know how closely he’s watching us?”

“He tried being all stalkery guy again, but Tara saved the day.” Buffy beamed over at her friend, a big smile on her face, to which Tara blushed in response. “Oh! Giles, we need an eternal source of power. Got one handy?”

“Of course, Buffy, I packed one in my bags.”

It took a moment for Giles’ snarky comment to register, but when Dawn and Tara both giggled, it was all over and the room’s occupants all laughed.


~*~*~


Willow was seething. Her anger and resentment were almost palpable, another presence pacing along side her. She did not like this feeling. Angelus had, despite all her efforts to the contrary, managed to get under her skin earlier in Restfield.

He’d made her feel like stupid powerless Willow and she really didn’t like that. She was supposed to be the one in control; the cool-under-fire one who didn’t panic when the boogeyman came calling.

All those words still stung. Even though he hadn’t been that bad, it had still shaken her. The fact that he’d been able to creep up on her and get close caused a major case of the wiggins every time she really thought about it.

The more she thought about it, the more she just got aggravated. And how come no one had called her? Well, no one but Xander.

Oh, no, I am not going to let that nasty vampire get the better of me. Nahuh. With renewed determination Willow focused her energy on making the spontaneous flame spell work.


~*~*~


He was really happy his other self had been so concerned about his humans that he’d insisted they all get cell phones. Angel thought about calling Cordelia but decided against it. He’d call her later, give her time to think about where he was, how close he might be. Gunn? No. Not unless dear Freddie was with him…but no. Angel realized he just really wanted to talk to his most trusted right-hand man. Not since the Scourge had ranged about had there been anyone he trusted…

Flipping open his phone, Angel hit the address book and dialed Wesley.


~*~*~


The laughter was slowly dying down when Wesley felt the vibration of his cell against his hip. He reached for it, standing away from the wall, his attention divided between the room and the phone. Glancing down at the display screen, he began motioning everyone to silence.

Waiting just long enough for everyone to still, Wesley opened the phone. “Angel.”

“Aw. That’s no fun peeking at the incoming number. Had to know you’d be the smart one.” There was amused disappointment in the vampire’s voice, almost as if he couldn’t complain about Wesley knowing who was on the other end, but wanting too in any case.

“What is it you want?” Spike had drifted closer, standing just to Wesley’s right, so that he could hear the entire exchange and the taller man shifted so that Spike wouldn’t have to strain so much.

“Want? Gee, that’s such an open question. I want lots of things.” There was a slight pause, as if Angel were really contemplating what he wanted. “I could say world peace, but really, that’s such a cliché, and so very far from the truth.”

“Yes, well, your point is?” Spike’s eyebrows rose in amusement, but he made no sound, waiting to hear what else Angel had to say.

“Not really the tone you want to take with me. If I want to talk, we’ll talk.” There was now a harder edge to the vampire’s tone, one that Wesley wasn’t at all comfortable with. “My point, Mr. Wyndam-Pryce, is that I wanted to check in, catch up on all the news. Find out how everyone is.”

Wesley and Spike shared a look, both of them trying to hold onto their mirth. Amazing how having someone else to listen to this relieved some of the fear. Buffy got up from the table, leaning into Spike’s side while she tried to listen also.

“Everyone’s fine.” Spike shook his head in agreement, a smirk playing on his features.

“Really? That’s so nice to hear. So, tell me…has the infant sported fangs yet?”

“No.” Wesley was determined to not give Angelus any more information than absolutely necessary, giving him as little to go on as possible.

“No? Would’ve thought the boy would do that right away. Oh well, he’ll have them soon enough.” Buffy flinched and Spike pulled her and the baby closer, placing a silent kiss on the top of her head.

“Really, Wes, the object of a cell phone is communication. So, please, communicate. I’m all ears.” There was an edge of irritation creeping into Angel’s voice and Spike’s smirk started to bloom into a grin when Wesley just stated simply, “I’m not really all that chatty, you know. Prefer to keep to myself.”

It took nearly all his will power not to laugh into the phone, but the looks that everyone around him were sporting was enough to send him over the edge. Really, who did Angel think he was dealing with? A bunch of easily scared teenaged girls? Intimidating phone calls might work if one of them was alone, but in this house, surrounded by a group of people, all of whom were either of supernatural origin or in their own way capable of battling one or two demons without any assistance, this tactic of using a phone call did not work. It was actually more of an annoyance. Wesley shook his head, not really sure he was actually believing this. “Angel? Are we done here? I have things to do.”

“For now, Wesley.”

And the phone disconnected.

~*~*~

Angel stared at the walls of the mansion, feeling distinctly dissatisfied and very perturbed. It shouldn’t have gone that way. Wesley should have been more on guard, more worried. Shouldn’t have been so flippant. I suppose he feels all safe and sound inside the Slayer’s house. but everyone has to move out of that safety sooner or later. And that’s when I’ll have you. All of you.

Fooling himself into believing that the Slayer’s people would be easy targets, Angel discounted their combined strengths, knowing as he did, that divided they would all fall. Like dominos…



I realize this one was a bit short, but I promise you all the next one is much, much longer. And as soon as I feel up to it, its going to get uploaded. Leave me a note, let me know what you are all thinking. That is if anyone is still with me. I'm not sure I have anyone reading these anymore.



[A/N: Sometimes you just have to take a step back, away from some things and then whatever it is sort of falls into place and everything works. That sort of happened here. Sort of. The plot points of this story are all done, its just a matter of getting it all on paper, or screen or wherever. I’m working on it. This chapter is a time compressing one, meaning that its going to be little snippets of moments in the next coming weeks, until it slows down again. Title is from Bonnie Franklin in the New York Times (An unhurried sense of time is in itself a form of wealth) and the quotes are as attributed. And the disclaimers are in full force and effect.]

Previously: Giles has come home with loads of information; Angel’s presence is being felt and everyone’s trying to find a way to get the chip removed.


Book Two, Chapter 21. An Unhurried Sense of Time.


Time is an illusion. Lunchtime doubly so.
Douglas Adams


We've erased a lot of the distinctions between night and day,
between weekday and weekend.
Our notions of time and space are collapsing.
Susan Orlean, Saturday Night in America


On Saturday, when Giles had been home for a couple of days, Spike showed up alone at the Magic Box with a couple of books in hand and something obviously on his mind. It was somewhat early for him to be up and around, which indicated something of importance. He’d come in through the tunnels, using the fairly busy underground routes in and around Sunnydale. The girls were meeting him here later, after they did some shopping. Buffy knew he was going to tell Giles about Dawn, and they’d told Dawn together what Spike was planning.

Giles was, for once, alone in the shop, Anya giving him the flimsy excuse of needing some girl time to herself and requesting the day off. He’d obliged, noting that something was bothering the girl, but certain that when she felt up to it, she’d no doubt tell them all what was on her mind.

“Rupert.” Spike rarely used given names in proper forms and when he did, the person always knew there was something important about to be said. “Niblet got into your flat when you were gone. Took some of the books Oxford brought.” He placed the set of four on the table, laying the smallest on the top. “She read them. Searchin’ out how she got here.”

The older man walked around the counter toward the books. “What did she find?”

Expelling air in a deep sigh, Spike sat down with his arms across the back of chair, unsure how to just say this. “She found out who she is.”

“What? Spike, what do you mean she found out who she is?” Giles was confused. “Just tell me.”

After their talk the other day, when Dawn had slipped and told them, Spike had asked her for the journal so that he and Buffy could go over it. She’d given it to them and they’d read the thing together, picking up things that Dawn had missed, instances that she wouldn’t have known about.

Spike gestured toward the smallest journal. “Need to read that one Rupert. Should answer all your questions.”

Not wanting to wait, Rupert asked him again. “What’s in it?”

“Jus’ read the bloody thing. Answers are all in there.” Done with his questions, Spike got up and went back downstairs to start filling mail orders.


~*~*~


Two and a half hours later, Giles closed the journal and wiped his eyes, answers to nearly all his questions regarding the Key filling his head. The journal also supplied a few other answers, unfortunately those answers were for questions Giles had never bothered to pose before. He’d known, after they destroyed the Sunnydale branch of the Initiative, that human and demon experimentation had been an ongoing practice in the labs. He’d known and hadn’t once thought that samples might have been taken from either Spike or Buffy. Hadn’t even thought to look for them in the aftermath.

Giles was now faced with the truth that it wouldn’t have mattered even if he had thought to go back. However, he was also realizing that somewhere, someone had the samples that hadn’t been destroyed. Sometime in the future, some bizarre hybrid like Adam could be reconstructed from those samples. He stared off, not really seeing his surroundings, instead letting his mind drift back nearly two years. Defeating Adam and the Initiative had taken the combined strengths of all of them, and at the end, even Spike had been of some assistance. There was no telling what they might face in the future, what some madman could possibly dream up with the samples. It almost didn’t bear contemplating.

His supposition about the monks had been correct, which in hindsight was of little comfort. They had been capable of manipulating energy with far greater skill than he’d ever seen or encountered and it appeared they were not originally part of this dimension. But the vessel they used to house the Key was something else entirely. The vessel was purely human– as much as the child of any vampire and slayer could be– and although she had been manufactured, she was most definitely the child of Buffy and Spike.

Which explained so much. The irony of the situation was that all summer, Spike had stayed to protect Buffy’s sister, never once imagining that Dawn was something more. That Spike harbored feelings for Dawn and they were reciprocated was never a question, at least in his mind. Now the information in the journal was doubly important, but Giles doubted any of them but him were aware of that fact. If the child of a slayer and a vampire was strong enough to house an eternal elemental energy, there was no telling what else that child or other children were capable of, what other strengths they would exhibit.

The coming months with Connor were going to be enlightening ones.


~*~*~


It was domestic and very coupley of them; something that Buffy had never done with any of her other boyfriends, but everyone else was out doing their own thing and well, they needed to do some shopping. The house was dangerously low on groceries, but at least they had money to do the shopping with, because Giles had come through in a big way.

Unbeknownst to her, Giles had gone to the Council asking them for some financial support for their only active slayer. Citing the need for her to maintain her own household since she had a dependent sister, Giles had pretty much effectively blackmailed the Council into providing housing expenses and incidentals. The Council had, in typical fashion, asked for concessions from Giles on her behalf and he’d resisted, refusing to budge on his position of requesting the necessary funds. But the Council had conceded the need for separate households, and understood that the sister in question was not just another teenager, so they’d made arrangements for the payment in full of the mortgage that was still outstanding. All other household expenses, including the electricity and water bills, would be paid monthly out of an account Giles would manage. Anything else that was needed would have to be supplied by the Slayer herself.

So here they were in the supermarket, her and Spike with the baby, shopping. Picking out foods. Buying diapers. Getting formula. Doing stuff she never ever thought she’d be doing, with probably the last person she’d ever thought to be doing all those things. But it was fun. Spike had a weird way of making everything easy. He was tossing boxes of pasta in the cart, while Buffy held the baby, dragging the cart behind him, grumbling good-naturedly all the while about how this was ruining his image.

Connor was resting against her shoulder and Buffy tried to reach for a jar of sauce that was over her head when she nearly brought down the whole display on top of the two of them. A little old lady who was in the aisle with them gasped, drawing Spike’s attention, and he was there, holding the jars up before any of them could fall. He got them back up on the shelf, then shifted his attention to her. He was all set to yell, but the look on her face stopped him short, so instead he gathered her into his arms, holding them both close.

“All right, sunshine?” He kissed her forehead, his hand cupping Connor’s head as he let her lean into his chest.

“Yeah. I think so.” But she was shaking and he could feel it, so he knew she wasn’t really okay.

“How’s m’sprog?” Spike lifted the baby up onto his shoulder, wrapping his arm around Buffy. She was overreacting and they both knew it, but he wasn’t going to mention it. And they both knew it was because of the baby.

Neither of them was paying attention to anything around them until the old lady whose gasp had alerted Spike patted Buffy on the back. “It’s okay, dear. First baby’s take a bit of getting used to. You’ll learn.”

Buffy lifted her head to gaze into the kind face and sniffled. “I’m not used to this.”

“It’s alright, dear. You and your husband will find your way.” She smiled at the two of them, patting Buffy again, then laid her hand on Connor’s back. “It’s a boy, yes? I’m sure he’ll grow up big and strong, just like his daddy, here. Congratulations and good luck.”

With that, the little old lady walked away, but not before winking at Spike.

~*~*~

Cordelia was sitting on a lounge chair, listening to the waves break gently on the Mexican shore when the buzzing of her cell phone interrupted. Grumbling half-heartedly, she flipped open the phone without looking at the incoming number.

“Hello, Cordy. How’s my favorite girl?”

His voice sent shivers down her spine and she didn’t speak, almost didn’t breathe.

“C’mon, Cordy, don’t forget to breathe.” The false sincerity in his tone was her undoing and she gasped in a few quick puffs of air.

Listening to her strangled gasps, Angel chuckled. “You know what’s great about cell phones? You never really know where the other person is calling you from.”

Despite the fact she knew he couldn’t be that close, since the nearest shelter was five hundred feet behind her, Cordelia whirled around, looking for him.

“Know what else is great about cell phones?” He paused, waiting for his question to sink in. “You can track them.” He laughed then, the sound going right through her.

The connection ended and Cordelia was left staring wild-eyed all around her, goose bumps erupting all over her skin.


~*~*~


Tara had gone on a date with someone that Oz had introduced her to, and that was slightly weird, at least to Buffy. Spike was out playing poker and she was kind of at loose ends, although Connor was a handful. He was on the floor, playing with the toys everyone kept buying him whenever they went out, while she folded laundry. I am domestic Buffy. Go me. She smiled a little, wondering when she’d become a mom and how it didn’t give her such a weird feeling.

Connor was a sweet baby, as long as he wasn’t howling to be fed, and he was generally quiet. When the clothes were all folded, Buffy watched Connor for a minute as his plump little fist waved around the rattle. Aren’t babies his age supposed to just lay there and do nothing? According to the book Wesley had gotten, ‘What to Expect the First Year’, Connor wasn’t supposed to be moving or doing anything other than sleeping and eating. Instead, he wriggled around and held things, and grabbed at all sorts of stuff they waved in his face. He recognized them all too. He knew whenever Spike was in the room, sometimes crying until the vampire caved and picked him up, reacting whenever he heard Spike’s voice.

Thinking for a moment, Buffy decided to try something. Very softly, she called out his name, watching him as he stilled. She did it again and it was very clear that he heard her. The third time, he was struggling to move in her direction.

Buffy got up, walked a bit toward the front door and called him again. His arms and legs went crazy, flailing as he sensed she’d moved further away from him. She could see his face screw up into a bit of a scowl, which was adorable on his tiny features. Buffy moved closer and called his name. If a baby could snap his head up and look directly at someone, Connor did. Buffy called his name a third time and his little legs pumped up in the air like he was trying to run to her. Buffy laughed and Connor did it again. Dropping down to her knees, scooting over to him, she leaned down and nuzzled him.

“How’s my big boy?” Play nibbling on him, she blew raspberries onto his cheek and when Connor grabbed at her, Buffy cooed at him, “There’s my baby.”

“No. He’s not yours. Projecting much?” Dawn’s voice came at her from the kitchen and Buffy looked up into the angry eyes of her sister. No. She’s not my sister. That’s my daughter.

“Hey, Dawnie. How was the movie?” Not realizing that Dawn was brewing for a fight, Buffy went right back to the baby without waiting for her answer.

“He’s not yours, you know. Not really.” Finally Buffy heard the words Dawn was saying and she picked up her head to look at her.

“Dawn? I know that. I’m just playing with him.” Dawn made a face and Buffy waited for the outburst.

“But he’s not yours.”

Ohh, okay, that’s what’s bothering her.

Leaving the baby where he was, Buffy got to her feet, walking closer to Dawn. “I know who his parents are Dawnie. But it’s not fair to him to treat him like he’s unwanted. He didn’t ask for any of this.”

Dawn looked away, a set look on her features. “He’s still not your baby.”

“No. He’s not.” Buffy reached for her, pulling Dawn’s chin so that the teen had to look at her. “I don’t pretend that he’s mine either.”

Dawn’s eyebrow raised and her hip thrust out and oh, boy, does she look like her father right now. Buffy could see Spike in her so clearly and she was just watching her not really hearing the words her sis…daughter was speaking. “You sure about that?”

“Am I sure about what?” Buffy was confused.

“God, are you even listening to me? Do you even know I’m here?” Dawn’s voice rose in volume, climbing toward ear-splitting levels.

“I know you’re here, Dawnie. Why would I pretend that he’s mine?” Refusing to let her pull away, Buffy wrapped her hand around Dawn’s wrist. Dawn tried pulling away, but Buffy held on.

“Why wouldn’t you? It’s Angel’s baby. Isn’t that what you’ve always wanted?” There was real sarcasm in her tone and Buffy though perhaps Dawn’s reaction was partially for herself and partially for Spike. Does she think that I’m doing this because Connor is Angel’s? Knowing that she’d already had this discussion with Spike and he knew how she felt, but that no one else did, Buffy quickly realized that everyone might be thinking the same thing.

“No. I don’t want his baby. Honestly? I don’t want anything to do with him.” Buffy looked into Dawn’s eyes, trying to make her understand. “I’m so over Angel.”

Big tears sprung into Dawn’s eyes and Buffy pulled her close. “What’s really wrong?”

“Nothing.” Her jaw clenched and she pulled away from Buffy.

“Dawnie. Something’s bugging you. So dish.” Buffy grabbed Dawn’s hand and pulled her over to where Connor was on the floor. She sat down, then looked up at the teen and said, “C’mon, sweetie, sit down here with me.”

“It’s just, you know, I see you with him and it seems like all you want is to take care of him and you know, what about Spike? And what’s with the baby? I mean I thought you didn’t want…you never said you wanted babies and now all of a sudden Angel’s baby is here and now you’re all oohh baby and aww and how come…it’s just not fair.”

Buffy hid her smile, because Dawn hadn’t breathed through any of that halting explanation, which didn’t even make much sense at all. The last words struck a chord, though, so Buffy focused on them. “What’s not fair?”

Finally breaking down, Dawn choked out, “Because he gets to be a baby and I…I don’t. All my memories about that are false. None of them are real and it…would have been…”

Oh. That’s what this was all about. “It would have been different if at least part of them were real?” Buffy wasn’t sure what Dawn was getting at, or really trying to say other than she wished she’d been given memories of growing up with her real parents.

Dawn wiped her eyes, not looking at Buffy. “Yeah. If, you know, the monks had planted memories of you and me and Spike as, you know, what we really are.”

“Would’ve been way complicated, don’t you think?” Buffy thought about it for a moment, then blurted out, “But couldn’t you just picture the look on Giles’ face? He’d have headed right for the books.”

Dawn let out a watery giggle. “What would’ve been even funnier would have been Xander’s reaction.”


~*~*~


Patrolling with the Buffybot was enough to drive him round the bend. Spike was not looking forward to being out there, trailing after the robotic image of his love, but they had all decided that one of them should be home at all times with the baby. Connor was thriving, had grown like a weed in the last two weeks, and was constantly wriggling around; doing things a normal infant didn’t do until much later. Things at the house had settled down also. Wesley had moved out to join Giles at his flat, since sleeping on the couch was decidedly uncomfortable, and Buffy and Spike were contemplating a move into Joyce’s old room.

It was nearly time to get out there and patrol, and since it was his night to go, he was restless and pacing around like a panther without enough room to roam. Spike was also missing Buffy, since sleeping with an insatiable infant wasn’t his idea of fun. Probably, as a side effect of his growth spurts, Connor was still eating every couple of hours, which left their sex life suffering. Not that Spike minded. Well, he did, but the spawn came first, much as he hated admitting it. He didn’t care much as long as the sprog didn’t yowl at the top of his lungs- in the ear splitting howl he seemed to have perfected- whenever his belly wasn’t full.

There were moments, too, when Buffy couldn’t soothe the boy and only Spike’s touch would settle him down. His theory was that the infant was used to the lack of a heartbeat and it in some way comforted him to be held by Spike. So there were long nights when he and the sprog were up and everyone else was asleep. Spike realized how funny it was when he was up late, the television on, and he found himself with the infant in his arms and he was talking out loud to the baby. It had been the most surreal moment of his unlfe; William the Bloody, the Slayer of Slayers, watching late night infomercials with a two week old infant in his arms, one he had no intentions ever of harming. It was enough to cause him a serious case of- as Dawn or Buffy would put it- the wiggins.

Everyone was gathered in the Magic Box; Giles, Wesley and Anya arguing over some obscure point of demonology, Buffy was holding Connor and making faces and noises at him, Oz was hanging out by the front door, waiting for Tara to come back from classes, and Dawn was also due to arrive at any minute. But he was restless. There was an itch along his spine that no amount of scratching would alleviate. He couldn’t shake the feeling; it was like a hum just beneath his skin, a nagging sense of some impending disaster.

He snorted mentally, ticking off the number of things that could explode in their faces. The Huntsman and the hounds had effectively stopped hunting the innocent or nearly innocent, Willow had drifted in and out of their lives, meeting here and there, accidentally running into Tara, who still put her off about having a real discussion. And then there was Angelus. That, at the moment, was his biggest worry. Angelus had been too quiet in the last couple of weeks, leaving subtle reminders of his presence.

The scariest moment had been when he’d tailed Tara home just a couple of nights ago. But that was nothing, really, in the scheme of things. Spike knew Angelus better than any one else, and he knew this was all part of the game, lulling them all into a sense of security and then he would strike. And strike hard.

He stopped pacing, turning on his heel to watch Buffy, his head cocked to the side. She was not classically beautiful, not like some other women he’d known. There was too much character in her face for that, but there was a beauty all the same. A smile traced across his face as he stood just watching her, he himself completely unaware that his actions had garnered his own audience. Anya nudged Giles, who was standing behind her, pointing her chin in their direction.

Spike was standing on the upper level of the store, his eyes trained on Buffy and the baby, an expression on his face that Giles had never seen before. The soft lighting of the area at the table complimented Buffy, but it was also clear that it wouldn’t matter what light she was bathed in, because it was obvious that in Spike’s eyes, Buffy was everything. Anya sighed softly and Giles glanced down at her, catching the sadly wistful look in her eyes.

Anya had been unusually and uncharacteristically quiet since the arrival of Wesley and Connor. There were times he wanted to question her about why, and he’d heard from Wesley about the incident when Xander had frightened her, but he was fairly certain the reason behind her introspection. Even before his successful trip to England, Giles had begun to notice a rift between the former demon and her boyfriend; however, he’d chosen to stay out of their situation. But the sadness in her eyes as she watched Spike eyeing Buffy called to him.

Giles laid a hand on her shoulder, squeezing gently, silently lending her some support. Spike moved, breaking the spell they were all under, leaning down to say something that only Buffy could hear and Giles made a snap decision. Buffy’s face lit up, her eyes glowing as Spike’s hand reached out to ghost along her cheek and she leaned into his touch. Watching the two of them, Giles knew he had to do what the crazy notion in his head was telling him to do.

Once more Spike leaned down, whispering something into Buffy’s ear that caused her to blush hotly and swat his arm. The leer on Spike’s face left no illusions about what he’d said or what was on his mind, but somehow that didn’t really bother Giles.

“Buffy? Why don’t you go with Spike tonight?” Glancing down at the woman standing next to him, Giles continued, “Anya and I will stay with the baby.”

With a quick glance up at Spike, Buffy asked, “You sure? You don’t mind?”

“No. I don’t, but, well, I didn’t exactly…” He hemmed and hawed so much that Anya finally came to his rescue, announcing, “I don’t mind. I’ve nothing else to do.”

“There. It’s settled. You and Spike go patrol and we’ll sit with the baby.”


~*~*~


Wesley was heading to Los Angeles. In the quest for a demon-friendly surgeon, they’d run up against a brick wall. Dr. Thomas wasn’t a neurologist, was in fact an orthopedist whose first choice in medicine had been obstetrics, and the only other surgeon in Sunnydale was another obstetrician. Two others they’d contacted had refused, so Wesley had volunteered to try and get his contact at Wolfram & Hart to give up more information. The good news was they now had x-rays of Spike’s head, so that Wesley could use those to show them what the situation was.

Giles had privately told Wesley that it appeared they were going to have to contact the Initiative, which everyone had agreed was a last resort.

He was leaving as Dawn and Casey trooped in the door, his meeting with Lilah Morgan scheduled for nine. Dawn watched him go, a question in her eyes, but because Casey was present she never voiced it.

Anya’s greeting was subdued and Dawn knew there was something bothering the ex-demon, but she was in the dark about that, too. She was beginning to think that no one trusted her at all, when Buffy said, “Dawnie? Giles and Anya are gonna stay home and babysit tonight.”

“I don’t need one.” She very nearly stamped her foot, stopping when she realized how very childish that would be.

“Not for you. For Connor.” Buffy rolled her eyes.

“Oh.” Shrugging her shoulders, Dawn said, “Okay then.” She thought for a moment, realizing Buffy was supposed to be home that night and Spike was supposed to patrol with the Buffybot. “Where are you going?”

“Out with Spike.”

They’d told Casey that Connor was Spike’s nephew, and that his mother had been badly injured in an accident and wasn’t going to recover. Since Spike was her only family, he got custody because the baby’s father was a jerk and in jail. The story wasn’t far off the mark and explained why Buffy and Spike had the baby.

“You kids have fun.” Dawn giggled when she realized Spike was tugging her sister toward the door, his impatience evident. “Gee Spike, you’re not gonna wait until full dark?”

His ‘no’ was said as the door was closing behind them.


~*~*~


So far, patrol had been a huge bust, pretty much the way it had been since Angelus had come back into town. It was so dead, in fact, that Spike was beginning to question why they were even bothering anymore, because even the humans seemed to have noticed. There were more people on the streets than he remembered seeing in a long time, and Spike looked over at Buffy, who was walking to his right, a somewhat distracted air about her.

“How come everyone’s out and about?” He was bored and if something didn’t show up soon, the itching along his spine was going to drive him round the bend.

“Thanksgiving is next weekend.” Buffy scrunched up her face, thinking about the holiday. “First one without Mom.” She sighed. “I guess I’m gonna have to figure out how to not ruin a turkey and learn how to make a decent pie.”

“Seem to remember that last one wasn’t so bad.” He swung around to watch her, walking backwards.

“Please, that turkey was overcooked and the only thing that came out perfectly was the mashed potatoes. Everything else was bad.” She made a face at him, more than willing to admit she wasn’t up for cooking an entire Thanksgiving meal.

“Ah…sunshine, you were also fightin’ a whole tribe of mystical Chumash that day.”

He paused, searching his memory. “Yours truly was tied up and unable to help, Red was going on about exploitin’ the natives, an’ the whelp ended up all sickly. It’s a wonder anythin’ turned out well.”

She stared at him, looking for any sign of sarcasm. When she found none, Buffy nodded. “There was a lot going on. I don’t remember though, why it was so important that everything turn out perfectly. It was only us. The only new one was you.”

Spike stopped walking. His eyes were on her and Buffy couldn’t fight the blush that bloomed across her cheeks. Dark blue eyes bore into hers and she didn’t want to blurt something out that would further embarrass her.

“So the only thing different was me?” He reached out to touch her chin. Deciding to leave that one alone, he thought about the time he’d spent with Giles. Knowing she’d never share her real feelings unless he was up front about it first, Spike whispered gruffly, “Never did thank Red for that spell.”

“Thank her?” Buffy looked up at that, her eyes fixed on him. “Why would you wanna do that?”

“She gave me somethin’ I’d wanted.” He paused, watching as what he was saying registered. “Didn’t wanna admit it then, but yeah, I wanted you.”

The truth was there, easily broadcast by his eyes on her. “Spike? Promise you won’t laugh?”

“Won’t laugh.” He kissed her forehead, waiting for her to speak.

“I thought you were the best kisser in the world.”

His smirk was back and he swaggered, then swooped back to tug her along. “Would’ve shagged you senseless if it had gone on longer. Then Cardboard wouldn’t have been around.”

Thoroughly surprising him, Buffy said, “I was trying to be normal. Riley was normal.”

Spike snorted out something too low for Buffy to make out, turning an innocent look on her. “Nahuh, Spike tell me.”

“All right. Should’ve…just…dunno. Soldier boy got off on the pain. Liked bein’ miserable.” He ducked his head, not looking at her, aware that this was a potentially dangerous subject for them to be discussing, but as usual, his mouth was moving before he realized it. “Didn’t like not bein’ the strong one. Tried to make you feel like you weren’t good enough.”

Buffy was quiet for so long that he thought she was building up for a good fight, but when he stole a glance at her, she was staring down at the ground, watching where they were walking. In a very small voice, she said, ‘I guess I missed that. I thought I needed normal. Everyone said that…normal was what I was supposed to want.”

He made some sort of grumbling noise, but she was speaking again, “only one person ever saw me. Only one person that ever really got me.”

“Oh?” Half expecting her to say Willow or Angel, Spike was surprised when she flicked his arm. “What’s that for?”

“Yep. Only one.” She looked up at him, the soft moonlight playing across her features, her eyes dark and twinkling. “Imagine that…a vampire understanding a slayer.”

Spike didn’t say anything, just watched her from under his lashes, waiting for her to speak. “Angel never really understood me. Did lots of things that…he made decisions on what he thought was right. But only…it was you. You were the only one who got me.”

Buffy stepped closer and his arms automatically curled around her. Reaching up, she curled her arms around his neck and Spike grinned. “I know you, Slayer. That’s why.”

She whispered back at him breathlessly. “Yeah. I guess you do.”

He was about to lean down to kiss her when a voice came out of the shadows. “Really, that’s just…so sweet.”

They broke apart, going into an anticipatory stance, their figures almost back to back, waiting for Angel to show himself. He didn’t disappoint, emerging from behind a crypt, deceptively at ease. “Nice night, moon’s shining down ever so softly, and two lovers are out for a stroll. Makes a pretty picture.”

Unconsciously they shifted, moving so that their dominant hands were on the outside, standing side by side.

“You two are so adorable together. Just cuter than anything. But I have to ask; who’s home with the baby? Did you just leave the two kiddies alone? Or is Willow’s girl there? Hhmmm?” Angel leaned back on his heels, his hands in his pockets.

Neither one of them spoke, for once Spike holding his tongue. But there must have been some change in his expression, because Angel started speaking again. “You know Spike, this won’t last. She’s human and, well, fickle. Can’t decide what she wants, can’t keep a man. You’ll get tired of her and leave.”

Without warning, about ten or so of Angel’s minions jumped down from the tops of nearby crypts and they were surrounded. Angel drifted off, knowing they would make short work of them, uncaring of the losses.

They were fighting, punching and staking right and left, and suddenly Buffy realized she’d gotten separated from Spike. Dusting the last of the minions she’d been fighting, Buffy searched around, looking for him. Moving back toward where she last remembered seeing him, she didn’t start to panic until he wasn’t there, and there were only piles of dust scattered around. Moving faster, she half ran toward his old crypt, her eyes sweeping over the grounds of Restfield. Spying a dark spot and seeing something move in the shadows, Buffy set off in that direction, only to skid to a halt when she realized what she was looking at. It was Spike, leaning over someone, talking and gesturing wildly.

Buffy walked closer and caught a glimpse of who Spike was talking to.

It was Drusilla.



[A/N: Thanks to everyone who waited oooh so patiently for the story to get to this point. Everything that I’ve thrown into the cauldron is going to start bubbling and boiling and...well, we’ll see whether this will be a bitter brew or something more savory...The title is from a quote by Peter Ustinov, (Love is an act of endless forgiveness, a tender look which becomes habit) and the quotes are as attributed. Disclaimers, as always, are in full force and effect.]

Previously: Wesley has gone to meet with Lilah Morgan regarding surgeons; Dawn had a moment with Buffy about Connor; and Drusilla is back in Sunnydale. This picks up exactly where we left everyone.



Book Two. Chapter 22. Tender Looks Becoming Habit.

At the touch of love everyone becomes a poet.
Plato

Love is something eternal, the aspect may change, but not the essence.
Vincent van Gogh

To love and to be loved is to feel the sun from both sides.
David Viscott

Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind,
And therefore is winged Cupid painted blind.
A Midsummer Night’s Dream, act I, sc. I


There was something interesting that happened to females when infants were introduced. Even females that had never expressed an interest or desire or any other concern about children became enamored with infants. The tinier the better, it appeared. Giles was fascinated by the entire process. Buffy was constantly holding the boy, Dawn was usually eager to play with him, Tara was downright motherly and, lo and behold, even the former vengeance demon, Anya, was reduced to googly eyes and sotto voce behavior. It thoroughly mystified him.

And while he could admit that the baby was kind of cute and appealing, he didn’t see the need to get all starry-eyed over his presence. What was interesting and perhaps of some importance, at least in his opinion, was the boy’s development. He reacted differently when certain people were around, and it appeared his sense of smell was acute, because whenever he smelled his bottle, he howled piercingly until the bottle was put in his mouth. It was a wonder Spike hadn’t purchased earplugs to block out the sound. And it wasn’t crying. It was howling.

Like he was doing at the moment. Anya was in the kitchen, fixing his bottle, while Giles tried to calm the infant. It was proving unsuccessful. Connor was wriggling in his grasp, howling his displeasure to everything in the general vicinity, including dogs. Giles almost wondered if there was more than vampiric blood shared between Dawn and Connor, because the pitch in each of their shrieks had to be identical.

He was fumbling, awkwardly holding the baby up to his chest, trying to rub his back and pat him at the same time, while trying not to crumble to his knees because of the damage to his eardrums when Anya finally came back into the living room. “Giles. What are you doing?”

“Apparently nothing. Is that bottle done?” The frustration in his voice was evident and he unceremoniously thrust the baby at her. “Here. You take him.”

Anya cocked her head to the side, taking the baby and giving him the bottle all in the same motion, talking to the boy, making insane noises, but her words were directed at him. “Silly Poppa Rupie…he doesn’t know how to take care of hungry little babies…such a silly old man.”

Giles huffed a bit, when his brain registered what she was saying. “Really, must you?” He took off his glassed, peering at her intently. “I’m not old. Nor am I Poppa anything.”

Anya laughed. It was such a happy sound, one that she hadn’t made in quite some time, and it made him smile in return. She’d been so quiet lately, quite unlike her usual self, and it pleased him now to see her in a better frame of mind. “Giles, you need to lighten up and smile more. Makes you look younger.”

His retort of, “Well laughter suits you much better than brooding does,” was out of his mouth before he could censor it, and the look on his face made tears well up in Anya’s eyes.

“I haven’t had much reason to smile lately. I just don’t understand.” She looked away from him and he laid a hand on her arm, squeezing gently. He remained silent, waiting for her to elaborate. “If you love someone, you shouldn’t say mean things and tell them to be quiet all the time, right? And your relationship shouldn’t be something to hide either.”

She looked up into his eyes, trying to find some enlightenment there. “Am I thinking wrongly? These emotions…sometimes I just don’t understand.”

He was beginning to. Understand, that is. So he told her. “I think you aren’t wrong. In fact, you’re quite right in believing that being in love shouldn’t be hidden. Its something to celebrate.”

“I used to think so. But now I’m not so sure. I think love hurts too much.” Anya sat down on the couch in a huff, jarring the baby a bit.

“Perhaps you’ve just gone about this all wrong.” He stood in front of her watching her closely.

“Why are you staring at me like that?” Anya flushed and looked away from him.

Rupert smiled slowly. “Because I’m just now realizing that you’re an amazingly attractive woman.”

Her gaze snapped up to his and he thought the blush blooming across her face was terribly attractive and distracting. “You are?”

“Yes. I am.” He smiled crookedly at her and sat down on the couch beside her, reaching for the remote. "Shall we watch some television?”

~*~*~

Realizing belatedly that Angelus’ minions were deliberately herding him away from Buffy, Spike tried repeatedly to break through and get back to her. His worry for her was uppermost in his mind and even with his superior strength, he couldn’t break through the number of minions blocking his way. It was only when he realized they weren’t fighting him that he actually stopped.

The hum just beneath his skin had become a near shout and Spike whirled around, thinking it was some new threat that was causing it. Should have fucking known. Expected it, so, why didn’t I recognize it?

She was cradled, ironically enough, in the outstretched arms of a winged marble angel. Cradled? She’s bloody lounging there like the bleedin’ Queen of Sheba.

The sight of Drusilla, ivory skin clad in scarlet and black lace, against a backdrop of pure white marble, normally would have moved him. Would have had him aching to be buried inside her, surrounded by crimson blood. Now, looking at her posed, he felt none of the old pull, none of the old attraction. No pulsing need to join with her. Just a naggingly real fear that something had happened to Buffy. He scrambled mentally, trying to think of a way to extricate himself from this situation.

Playing for time, Spike paced in front of Drusilla. He waited for long moments, wondering what she was up to and why she would plan something like this. And, as usual, she didn’t disappoint. “Hullo, Spike.”

“Dru” was all he said, his eyes narrowed dangerously.

“Are you cross with me?” She pouted and where once it would have had him running to smooth things over, or on his knees making it up to her, Spike just rocked back on his heels.

“Oh, you are…whatever for? Can’t be because I left you, William. After all, you left me first. Taken by sunshine.”

He remembered the first time she’d said that to him, a very long time ago, long before they’d ever decided to come to Sunnydale. He’d scoffed at her then, completely dismissing her. But he had been taken by sunshine. Call her that all the time. ‘S what she is. My sunshine.

Before he could say anything, Dru slithered away from the statue, flicking her fingers at the minions, dismissing them.

“Why did you come, Dru?” He swung his arms wide. “Why bother? For him?” He couldn’t keep the bitterness from his voice. In the days and weeks following his escape from the Initiative labs, he’d tried everything to get some help– his distress sending reverberations through the bloodlines– yet none had responded, not even her. Instead he’d been forced to seek shelter and asylum from the Slayer. It had been the right thing, but his sire should have cared. “I needed you then, and you ignored me. He calls once and you drop everything?”

“Miss Edith said you were already lost.” Drusilla tried placating him, but Spike was beyond caring.

“Fuck that soddin’ doll, Dru.” He looked at her, eyes hard and unfeeling, his nostrils flaring. “For once in your life, Drusilla, just tell me the truth, in plain English.”

“The truth? The truth is a whisper on the wind, a ray of light in the dark. The truth is not for the likes of us.” She was shaking her head, swaying a bit. “The truth already knows you, William. Sunshine and baby flowers. Precious little strawberries.”

Buggering fuck. “Drusilla you are mad as a hatter.” He flung out an arm, gesturing wildly, pointing her eastward. Spike stepped closer, until he was within touching distance. “He will be dust, Dru. Leave now, while you still can.”

She snapped at him and giggled. “So brave and gallant, my knight, always protecting his lady fair.”

Spike rolled his eyes, loudly growling his aggravation. “Not yours, Dru. Not for a long time.”

Drusilla curled into him, her hands on the duster’s collar. “Always mine, Spike.”

He pushed her away, hard enough to make her stumble to her knees. “No, Dru. Not then and not now.” He loomed over her, about to say something else when his attention was pulled away. That mouth-watering scent filling his senses was enough to tell him that his Buffy was on her way, he didn’t need her pounding heartbeat to know how close she was.

“Spike?” There was a quavering tone to her simple question, but he heard the tension clearly. Right then, she’s already seen Dru. How’re you gonna fix this one, eh, mate?

“Sunshine?” It took her half a dozen steps to reach his side, but as soon as she was in touching distance, he hauled her closer, his eyes roaming over her, checking for obvious injuries. “You okay?”

“Yeah.” The hurt and fear were clearly audible in her tone and Spike knew it was because of the vampire behind him. She must have seen enough to misunderstand, or worse heard Dru’s last comment. He wasn’t hers. Had never really been hers, even when they’d been together. Spike stared down into Buffy’s eyes, his hands holding her shoulders so that she couldn’t possibly turn away from him. At first she wouldn’t look, wouldn’t return his gaze, but he shook her just a tiny bit and she finally looked up at him.

The emotion in his eyes humbled her. And yet there was still that tiny seed of doubt lingering in her mind. This was, after all, Drusilla she had found him with. Had it been Harmony, Buffy wouldn’t have felt it at all. But it wasn’t Harmony. Drusilla was the one constant in his life. And when she was gone…would it be Drusilla that he’d run too?

Drusilla was singing softly, swaying in time to a beat only she heard, her voice a bare whisper in the wind, and yet Spike felt no desire to turn away from the woman in his arms. His eyes bore into hers, midnight blue into forest green, and he knew. Oh yeah, nothin’ was worth losing her over. Not a bleedin’ thing on earth.

Without taking his eyes from Buffy’s, Spike said to Drusilla, “Go back to where you came from, princess. There’s nothin’ here for you.”

She couldn’t smile at him. Couldn’t make her face change expression. The only thing she could do was let the tears that had been held off by sheer force of will, well up in her eyes.

Sparing neither a glance nor another word for the vampire behind them, Spike moved closer to Buffy and kissed her forehead. Breathing out against her skin, he said, “C’mon kitten, let’s go home.”


~*~*~


Dawn was spying again. She stopped at the top of the stairs, straining her ears for any sound from the two adults downstairs, but she couldn’t hear anything. It was driving her crazy, not knowing what the heck was happening in her own house. And this was crazy, whatever it was between Anya and Giles. Well, not in the sense that it was icky, coz it kinda wasn’t. But more crazy because Xander was gonna lose his mind when he found out about it. And really, Giles should know better than this, coz he’s like, old. And hey, it was way better than Giles and Joyce getting together. Dawn suppressed a giggle when she realized that had been one of the couples she had thought might have been her real parents. Nope. Sooo glad it wasn’t Giles and Joyce.

Once she’d found out the truth, it made complete and total sense to her. She’d never questioned it, about Buffy and Spike, never even thought to question it. It just made sense. In the Hellmouth-y, nothing really makes sense sort of way. There were some couples that just made sense to her and some that she…couldn’t see. Like Tara and Willow made sense in the same way that Willow and Oz had made sense. In a really weird way, Oz and Tara made sense too, but not in the smoochies kind of way. They sort of just fit together.

Like Buffy and Spike. If there were ever two people who fit together better than those two, Dawn had never seen them. Even though they’d only been together since Buffy came back, it felt like forever. Felt like they belonged to each other. It was so different from when Riley was here. He constantly belittled everything, without even realizing it. He dismissed her friends as useless, even while he tried to be a part of them, and he treated her and Joyce like they weren’t real. Dawn wrinkled up her nose. But hey, Riley was way better than Angel. At least Riley had just treated her like a stupid kid. Angel had treated her like a cross between a meal and an alien. Even knowing that those memories were fake didn’t do anything to making them any better.

Her ears pricked up and Dawn heard movement downstairs. Giles murmured something, then it sounded like he got up from the couch and walked into the kitchen. Taking the chance that he had, Dawn got up from her seat on the floor and made her way noisily down the steps.

Anya was changing Connor after the chow hound had downed another full bottle and looked up when Dawn stopped at the doorway. “Hello Dawn.”

“Hey.” In preparation and as a cool cover, she had a full laundry basket in hand. Using her chin, Dawn indicated the laundry. “I’m just gonna head down to the basement and, you know, do some wash.”

“Okay. That’s a productive thing to be doing.” Anya nodded her head, then went back to her task.

“I’ll just do that then.” Dawn sauntered away, intent on her next target. Giles was in the kitchen, fiddling with the teakettle and obviously searching for something for them to snack on. “There’s cookies in the jar.”

He stood up so quickly that he nearly whacked his head on the cabinet, but managed to miss it by less than inches. “Dawn. You really shouldn’t sneak up on people.”

“Right. Coz I was being all stealthy.” She rolled her eyes and pretended insolence. She shrugged. “Anyway. There’s sweet stuff in there. Plus I think Spike has some chocolate hidden somewhere.”

“No. I was just looking for some biscuits.” Giles folded his arms across his chest, contemplating the teenager in front of him. He started to say something, then thought better of it. Judging by the look on his face, Dawn had an idea of what it was, and she decided to stop that idea from blooming into full fledged research.

“I don’t want to talk about it. About Buffy and Spike. Okay?” She moved toward the basement door, then looked at him over her shoulder. “I just wanted to know who I am. Who I really belonged to. It wasn’t anything more than that.”

“All right Dawn. I won’t bring it up unless you want to talk about it.” He understood her need to discover who she was, and who she was part of; it made perfect sense.

His easy agreement seemed to soothe her nerves, because she smiled at him and he was forcibly reminded just who her parents were when the smile ended in a slight smirk. “Thanks Giles.”

She was gone in a swirl of long dark hair, the sound of her feet thudding down the stairs countered by the light tap of Anya’s heels on the kitchen floor. Pausing to wash her hands at the sink, she turned to face him. “Connor’s asleep.”

“Oh good.” Giles suddenly didn’t know what to do with his hands and he was relieved when the kettle whistled. “I fixed us some tea.”

“Are you nervous?” Anya studied him carefully, her eyes watching his every move.

“I am.” He fiddled with the kettle; filling the teapot and placing it slowly back on the burner.

“Why? Am I making you nervous?” She smiled brightly at him. “I don’t mean to make you nervous.”

“It’s not just you.” Deciding to take the bull by the horns, Giles stopped fiddling and looked directly at Anya. “It’s me also. I’ve…I’ve developed…that is…” Oh buck up, you git! “You are a beautiful and attractive and intelligent woman Anya. And you deserve much better than Xander Harris could ever give you.”

There. He’d said it. But he wasn’t prepared for her reaction at all, because when Anya burst into tears, Rupert Giles was at a complete loss. On the other side of the basement door, Dawn was silently screaming at him, give her a hug, c’mon Giles, just do it! Somehow, in the cosmic way of things on the Hellmouth, he must have heard her, because Giles took two steps toward her and then folded her into his arms.

Peeking one eye through the partially opened door, Dawn pumped her fist once in the air, then with a huge grin, jumped down the entire flight of steps.


~*~*~

They were quiet the whole way home, both of them wrapped up in their own thoughts, neither one of them willing to share at the moment. Spike had a feeling he knew what was bothering her, but he wasn’t really sure he wanted to start this discussion anywhere but inside the safety of their own home.

For Buffy, seeing Drusilla had dredged up lots of memories and emotions she didn’t want to face. Not for a very long time. Drusilla had the love of both Angel and Spike and she feared that she would never, ever be able to compete with that, to carve out a place for herself. She’d known, deep down inside, in some way, that Angel was more in love with her image than the real deal, but she wasn’t always so sure about Spike. Not that she doubted he loved her, but…sometimes the doubt about how long and how deeply would creep in. He’d been with Drusilla for over a hundred years. That was, in itself, an incredible feat. How could she hope to measure up to that? She wasn’t even going to have twenty more years with Spike. And that hurt. Because right now she wanted a…lifetime. A real lifetime. She wanted to be able to see Dawn grow up and have kids. Hell, she wanted to see Connor grow up. But she wasn’t going to get that. And Spike would have a really long time to forget about her. A really, really long time.

Trudging in the back door, they missed the hurried movements and guilty expressions on the faces of the other two adults, wrapped up in their own thoughts. Giles and Anya bid them a hasty goodnight, slipping out the front door within moments of their arrival, barely imparting that Dawn was downstairs doing laundry and Connor was asleep in the living room.

Spike went to the basement door, telling Dawn they were home then locking up, while Buffy silently collected the infant and drifted up the stairs with him. Normally, since they were home so very early, Spike would have settled himself in front of the television and watched some movies or something, but tonight he didn’t even look at the television. He locked all the doors, left a light on for Tara and followed Buffy up the stairs.

She was just putting Connor in his crib when he walked in the doorway, and he stopped to watch her for a long moment. He knew she was upset about Drusilla, knew it was bothering her, but he suddenly couldn’t think of a way to get her to open up. The only light in their room was from the small bedside table lamp and he thought, while watching her, that she was the most beautiful sight he’d ever laid eyes on. Figuring he might as well tell her that, Spike quietly murmured as he closed the door behind him, “You know she can’t hold a candle to you. You are the most beautiful sight I’ve ever seen.”

For once, he must have said the right thing, because she swung round to face him, her hands on the sides of the crib, her heart in her eyes.

“You are, you know.” Seeing the denial on her face, Spike forestalled any vocalized refutation by closing the distance and repeating himself. “Trust me, kitten, she can’t compete with you at all.”

“Really?” Her voice was small and flooded with disbelief.

“Really.” He was standing close to her, nearly chest to chest, his hands resting on hers, his gaze focused intently on her. “Yeah. Really.”

Her eyes drifted closed and Buffy drew in a deep breath. His scent surrounded her, pulling her in and she swayed closer to him, just a little, but it was all the invitation he needed. Swinging her up into his arms, Spike moved towards their bed, his words low and gruff against her ear. “If I have to prove it all night, I will.”

Arms around his neck, she nuzzled against the duster, really wanting to feel his skin. She must have made some noise, because he shifted her higher and her mouth sucked on a bit of his skin. He stopped in his tracks, inches from the bed, every nerve in him pulled taut. “Oh, God, kitten. Don’t…not now…jus’ gimme a…”

His words ended in a growl when she nipped at the spot just under his ear. Spike couldn’t think, just wanted to feel her under his hands, responding to his touch. His brain was screaming at him to slow it down, but his body wasn’t listening. He moved his hands to grip her by the waist, rubbing his thumbs in circles on her skin. “Love you so much…so bloody much.”

Spike kissed her then, his mouth hungry and needy on hers, nipping at her lip, tongue curling against hers. She broke away, pushing the duster off his shoulders. “Spike…”

The momentary break gave him clarity. There were some things he needed to say to her, things she needed to understand. “Buffy…love, look at me.

He shrugged off the duster, tossing it on the chair behind him, stilling her almost frantic hands. “Hey, sunshine, listen to me.” He caught the fear and tears in her eyes and he knew he had to speak before they got lost in each other. “Kitten, lemme hold you a moment. I want you to understand something.”

She nodded against his chest after burying her face against him, inhaling deeply. “I did love her.” He felt her stiffen in his embrace, but he knew he had to finish this. “I said did…but it wasn’t anywhere near the way I feel about you. She freed me from being nothing, gave me enough to set me free of who I was. But she…much as I loved her, I wasn’t first in her heart. Not then. Prolly not ever.” Spike knew he was about to lay himself bare for her, but he didn’t care any more. He loved her, every inch, from her shampoo commercial hair to her incredibly powerful little feet; and it was time he made her understand what that meant.

“Dru was my way out. But you, kitten, you…” He smiled at her, a real genuine smile and tears welled up in his eyes as he looked at her. “You are everything. You make me feel things I’ve never felt, never thought I wanted to feel. You make me want things I told myself I couldn’t have anymore. I love you an’ I will never stop lovin’ you. Not if I live forever.”

Buffy pulled away from his chest, looking back up at him, tears sliding down her face. “I’ll love you even if you never love me back, kitten. I can’t help it. Don’t want to. Told you once I was drownin’, I meant it.”

Her hands slid beneath his shirt, curving up around his sleek back. She could feel the tension in him, feel that he was nervous about all this and Buffy just couldn’t fight it any longer. “I don’t want to lose you, Spike. Not for any reason.”

“You’re not gonna, sweetheart.” Inhaling deeply, Spike took one last gamble, and prepared himself for the rejection. “I…Buffy…” He had to clear his throat, because the emotion was clogging it and he couldn’t force the words past his tongue, couldn’t even get them to form…but then a memory of another time he’d asked her something similar crossed his brain, and Spike grinned internally. Maybe… “I love you, kitten. An’ I’m askin’ you to hear me out, before you say anythin’.”

Buffy smiled at him, then settled down on the bed, pulling him up after her. Her head hit the pillow and she waited patiently. He hovered over her, held away from her body by the strength of his arms, his face inscrutable. “The bond Dru an’ I shared was only Sire and Childe…nothin’ more. She wouldn’t…didn’t want to make it anythin’ deeper. An’ after a while I stopped thinkin’ about it.” Spike paused when she started to speak, saying, “Shush. I asked you to wait, yeah? Right, then.

“Stopped wantin’ anything deeper with her. With you, though, it’s different. All I want is more…somethin’ deeper. Something permanent. I want you with me…no, not turnin’…never that. But, kitten, I want…I’m askin’…” He slumped a little, his forehead resting against hers, unable to force the question out. Christ, why was this easier hopped up on magics than now? Coz now, you git, it means more.

“Spike?” Her arms were around him and he nearly couldn’t think anymore. “What are you saying?”

He blew out the breath he didn’t need to hold and ruffled her hair in the process. “I’m sayin’, Buffy, that I love you more than anythin’ else and that I want to make this permanent.”

Buffy brought a hand up to cup his cheek, forcing him to lift away from her forehead and look at her. “What are you asking me, Spike?”

“Stubborn bint. Gonna make me spell it out for you?” He rolled over then, getting himself into a sitting position against the headboard, then pulled her over onto his lap. “All right then. Not gettin’ down on bended knee, already did that.” Taking a deep breath and not looking away from her, Spike finally spoke. “Guess I should have planned this out better, but…Buffy?”

Her smile was soft and full of love, something he never expected to see. “Spike? Would it help if you already knew the answer?”

Without thinking, the words shot out of his mouth, “Bloody right it would. Never thought askin’ you to be mine would be this hard.”

Her giggle lit up the room and he realized belatedly what he’d just done. “Oh, bollocks.” Spike watched her, then just finally said what he’d been thinking all along. “Wanna make you mine, kitten, want you to be my Mate. That means forever. Always. No matter what happens. We’d belong to each other.”


Please leave a review. I have no other validation than what you give me that this story is any good at all, that anyone likes it, that anyone thinks its worth continuing. I'm struggling with these chapters, because I really don't think they are any good, that any one thinks they are worth posting. So please, please, let me know. Just one little sign that you like it, that's all I ask. Thank you. Nia


[A/N: That last chapter wasn’t supposed to be so long, but somehow it became that way. The urge to write was on me, and well, I let the muse control it. I just copied down what he wanted. Blame it all on him. The title is from the Bard of Avon, Sonnet CXVI and quotes are as attributed. Disclaimers, as ever, are in full force and effect.]

Previously: Giles and Anya have bonded; Spike and Buffy had their first meeting with Drusilla, which prompted some heavy thoughts from both of them. This picks up immediately.



Book Two, chapter 23. An Ever Fixed Mark.


For you and for me the highest moment,
the keenest joy,
is not when our minds dominate but when we lose our minds.
Anais Nin, Feb. 1932 from Henry and June

Let me not to the marriage of true minds
Admit impediments. Love is not love
Which alters when it alteration finds,
Or bends with the remover to remove:
O, no! it is an ever-fixed mark,
That looks on tempests and is never shaken;
It is the star to every wandering bark,
Whose worth’s unknown, although his height be taken.
Love’s not Time’s fool, though rosy lips and cheeks
Within his bending sickle’s compass come
Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,
But bears it out even to the edge of doom.
If this be error, and upon me prov’d
I never writ, nor no man ever lov’d.
Sonnet CXVI


Her smile faded a bit when she heard him say forever. “Spike, I don’t have forever.”

He grabbed her shoulders and held her still. “We don’t know that. Gonna have as long as I can give you, an’ even then it doesn’t matter. I’ll love you for the whole five minutes I have after you’re gone.”

Buffy’s brow wrinkled as she said, “Five minutes? What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Coz, sweetheart, I’m not living if you aren’t. Not going through that again. Chances are, no one’ll be stupid enough to try an’ bring you back a third time.” He held on, his fingers almost digging into her muscles, willing her to understand what he was saying. “I couldn’t…not even for Lil Bit.”

“Oh. You…love me that much?” Her small hand reached up to run down his angular cheek, her eyes on his.

“Yeah. Been tryin’ to say that.” His hold on her eased a bit, letting her relax in his arms. “So?”

“So…you’re asking me to…asking if I want us to belong to each other?” She was stunned, in a way. He was- the few times she’d paid attention when Giles was going over claims and mating, she understood that it was unbreakable, that it was powerful, and that it was forever, more binding that any ring or legal documents could ever be- asking her to take a monumental step in their relationship.

It had only been a few months since her return, since they’d become a couple. Was she ready for this? This was a huge commitment, bigger than anything she’d thought. She and Spike had sort of just drifted into this relationship, bypassing the dating thing she’d done with Riley. Unfair comparison Buffy, Spike is completely different from Riley…and stop thinking about him. Pushing him out of her mind, Buffy focused on Spike. He was pretty much everything she ever wanted but didn’t know; everything she needed and hadn’t realized. So what if it was only months? She had the sudden feeling that it wouldn’t have mattered if it was only days.

Buffy was silent for so long that Spike braced himself for the rejection he believed was coming. He looked away from her, his jaw clenched and body poised to get up and leave her alone, because he didn’t think he could sleep next to her if she refused him. She opened her mouth and Spike’s every muscle tensed.

“You want me to be yours. You want to be mine. That’s what you’re asking me, right?”

She wished he would look at her, because this was just so hard to say, so terrifying to admit.

“Yeah. ‘S what I’m askin’.” Her finger traced over his lips, and he unconsciously kissed the tip.

“Then maybe you wanna look at me when you get your answer.” Her words were a bare whisper between them.

Spike glanced down; prepared to look away quickly when he saw denial and was instead trapped by the love he found swimming in her eyes. Her hands pulled his forward, linking their fingers together. She opened her mouth to say it, when her answer got caught in her throat and all she could do was nod her head in a yes. “Is that a yes, kitten? Coz I need to hear it.”

His voice was as quiet as hers had been and she finally managed to get it out. “Yes. That was a yes.”

The rumbling in his chest vibrated through her and Buffy melted into his arms. “Love you kitten, I do. Always.”

“Me too, Spike.” She leaned closer into him and he could feel every inch of her against him and that was no longer enough. He needed to feel her around him, letting him sink into her depths.

Seemed like they’d both had enough of talking, because the same instant his hands snaked beneath her shirt, hers wormed their way under his tee shirt, lifting it up so that she could feel his skin. When they were both naked from the waist up, Spike leaned forward, reverently kissed both her nipples and then latched onto one of them. His hands caressed her and Buffy held him to her, her fingers smoothing up and down his sleek back, then resting in his curls.

His lips traced a path across her breasts, finding her other nipple. One hand wrapped around her, settling into the small of her back while his thumb made lazy circles over her puckered nipple.

She was melting, falling into him, wanting more when he moved, lifting her away from his mouth and hands. Buffy whined his name and Spike grinned a little, growling, “Kitten, wanna be inside you, but this isn’t gonna work with clothes on.”

Standing her up, Spike popped the buttons on her pants, sliding them down to her feet in the same motion. One hand trailed up her inner thighs, parting her legs. His low rumbles of pleasure went right through her and he could sense the shift in her.

“C’mere.” he growled out as he pulled her closer. Buffy drifted toward him, gasping a little as two fingers slid up into her warmth. All her attention was focused on his fingers, the sensation of him gliding in and out of her, his thumb pressing on her clit. She wavered on her feet, her knees buckling at bit, forcing her to hold onto his shoulders.

One handed Spike somehow managed to get his boots undone and was working on getting them off his feet, trying to work the buttons on his jeans at the same time. Buffy broke free of the haze of want surrounding her to realize that he was struggling to get naked. Her small hands slid down his torso, cupping his ass under the denim. He stood, his fingers trailing wetly up and around her breasts. Buffy’s hand traced up his hipbone, over the hard planes of his shoulder and chest, finally resting on his face, her thumb tracing patterns over his lips. A soft smile bloomed across her features and one word slipped from her.

It was all the signal he needed. She’d done it. Said she wanted it and now…“Yeah, kitten. Yours.”

He closed the small distance between them, his erection hard against her belly, his arms reaching out to hold her close. They met each other in the distance between, lips melting together, tongues clashing. His hands were under her ass, lifting her up and Buffy wrapped her legs around his waist. “Need to feel you kitten…need you.”

Spike laid them down on the bed, his cock teasing at her entrance. “Now, Spike. Please,” she panted into his mouth, begging him to take her.

Shifting his hips, Spike pushed up and in, kissing her deeply at the same time. Buffy opened herself, guiding him in, her breath hitching when he finally slid in all the way. A tiny grunt of pained pleasure was forced from her and she whispered softly, “Oh. You…fill me.”

“Buffy…” He was thrusting hard, angling deep, his forehead resting on hers. “Love you. Love you…love you.”

Tears sprang to her eyes and she dug her fingers into his back, holding on. “Spike…Spike…”

Hard and fast he pounded into her, unable to slow down, thrusting out of control. His hips were pistoning into her and Buffy was writhing beneath him, holding on, her legs against him and Spike was going to…his balls were tight and hard and he knew she was close, because she was frantically moving in time. His fangs were itching to taste her and he reared back, lifting her with him as he licked a path across her throat once and struck.

Buffy shrieked as her first orgasm hit, then clamped her own teeth down on his neck and Spike was lost.

Her blood was on his tongue, inside him and he could feel her…every part of her, knew when her tears stopped then started again. His hips stilled, their gasping panting breaths filling the air, her tears pooling in the hollow of his shoulder and Spike felt his own tears welling up. He licked his marks closed, savoring the feel of her everywhere on him, her coppery sweet taste in his mouth.

Spike looked into her eyes, both wet with tears, his hands cupping her head, whispering softly, “mine.” He inhaled deeply, breathing out. “Always. Forever. Mine. Till everything fades away an’ there’s nothing left.”

Buffy’s smile wavered a bit, fresh tears falling again. “Yes. Yours.”

His lips were gentle on hers, then he whispered, “Your turn.”

Her smile broke through the tears and she asked, “This means you can’t ever leave me, right?”

“Means I won’t…but yeah.” He waited, wondering what she was about to do.

Her arms circled round his head and she gave a good imitation of his growl, saying, “Mine…mine…mine.”

Spike laughed then from sheer relief, then said back to her, “Yours. Always. F’rever.”

Buffy’s head dropped down onto his shoulder, her breath warm against his skin. They were both quiet, neither wanting to break the silence. Connor shifted in his crib, let loose a soft howl, then stilled again.

It seemed to break the silence between them and Buffy kissed the broken skin on his neck, feeling him shudder. His movement caused ripples through her and Buffy shifted a bit on his lap. “I’m not gonna get all fangy, am I?”

Spike laughed again, this time hard enough to forcefully remind her they were still intimately joined. “No. Though no one’s ever claimed and mated a slayer before. According to Rupert they were only potentials. Don’t rightly know what this is gonna do.”

“Spike?” There was a strange note in her voice.

“Yeah?” He leaned back a bit to look down at her.

“Can you never, ever mention Giles again when we’re…”

His laughter rumbled through both of them and he fell back, bringing her with him. She landed hard, and his hips bucked up, flexing in reaction. Instantly his expression changed and Spike reached up to cup her breasts. “That’s it, kitten, need you again.”


~*~*~

They had practically run from the house, barely taking time to say good night to the two blonds and give them an update on the whereabouts of the two children. Giles didn’t question them on how patrol went, eager for once to escape the scrutiny of the normally too perceptive vampire. But Spike hadn’t noticed anything amiss, hadn’t picked up on the awkward atmosphere between himself and Anya, which was a blessing in and of itself.

He was quiet on the drive to the apartment she shared with Xander, unsure of what to say or how to broach any subject. Giles had come to appreciate much about the ex-demon, including her wit and drive, and he was beginning to suspect that he might harbor more than friendly or co-worker affection for the girl. But there was the very real complication of her current romantic partner. Until she gave him some indication that they were no longer a couple, Giles had to operate under the assumption they were. And he wasn’t a poacher. He’d wait until she was free…if she ever decided to cut the boy loose.

But until then, he wasn’t going to make a move.

~*~*~

Dawn heard them come in, heard Spike’s voice from the top of the stairs telling her they were home, then the slam of the front door indicating Giles and Anya had left quickly. Anya was strange, but she was cool, and since life was pretty good, Dawn wanted everyone to be happy.

Finishing up her laundry, Dawn headed for the living room; fully expecting to find Spike settled and already channel surfing. Instead, the room was dark, only one light on and he was nowhere to be found. That was a surprise, because it was barely midnight and he rarely went to bed this early. Shrugging her shoulders, Dawn flipped on the television, curled up on the couch and prepared to watch bad late-night shows.


~*~*~


Buffy was draped over him, one leg curled over his hips, his cock still nestled in her depths and she was snoring lightly. Spike was wide awake though, his thoughts on the girl in his arms, one hand making idle circles on her bare back. He couldn’t sleep. Almost didn’t want to. He was listening to the sounds of Buffy’s and Connor’s breathing and heartbeats, his mind on what he and Buffy had just done.

It was the single most important moment of his existence. He had no words to explain to Buffy what it meant to him, how important her acceptance and- yes, he could admit it now- her love meant. Buffy shifted, her mouth brushing against his skin in an unconscious kiss, and he fought off a shiver. Spike ran his hand over her from hip to shoulder, watching her as the skin of her back almost rose to meet his touch. She was gold and sunshine, her whole existence warming him, everything about her…

There wasn’t anything he wouldn’t do for her. Wasn’t anything…he’d go out and slay demons for her every night, protect those she loved…anything she wanted. Emotions clogged in his throat, choking him, and Spike felt a sudden need to look at her face, to look into her eyes and tell her what he was feeling.

Rolling over gently, Spike rearranged their bodies and limbs so that he was lying over her, his arms going round her head, his hands ghosting through her hair. He studied her face in the dark, the only light now from a candle he’d lit much earlier that was beginning to gutter, casting wavering shadows over her features. “I love you. So much.”

He’d slipped from her warmth during the shift and he wanted back in, wanted to stay inside her forever, become part…they were a piece of each other, half of a whole that had been broken for so long. Spike didn’t necessarily believe in the idea of soul mates, but he understood that there was more in heaven and earth that defied description. They defied description. He also didn’t believe in fate or destiny. Life and unlife had thrown him too many curves to believe any longer, but he knew there was life after death. Hell he was unliving proof of that…but the other kind of life after death, finding a piece of heaven when you least deserved it or least expected it…he’d found it here, in her arms. With her. Sometimes he wondered if maybe he should still believe in destiny…

He sat up a bit, looking down at the still sleeping woman beneath him. Of their own volition, his hands stroked over her every curve, feather light and reverent. His eyes drank in her appearance. That this was granted to him when he’d least deserved any being’s kindness humbled him, altered him in ways that he might never begin to fathom, made him more than what he was, more than the failed poet, more than the violent demon…

Following his fingers, Spike laid gentle kisses in a path from her belly to her breasts, unaware of the tears that pooled in his eyes. She’d been gone. Taken from him, from all of them. He’d never thought to see her again. Her light had gone out, extinguished too soon, in fight to preserve everything she loved. And he’d wept. Mourned her loss. Flung his tears and anger at the heavens, raging at a universe that had taken the one beautiful thing in his life, leaving him bereft. Empty.

His love was a fierce feral beast inside him, raging against what had been torn away, unable to truly wreak the havoc he’d wanted too when she was gone.

He’d raged, using the only things he had, fists and fangs, destroying the only things he could; his own kind. And his one fervent prayer– the only one he could ever remember saying for a very, very long time– his only request of the universe, had been granted.

Never had he wanted it granted in the way it had been, would have preferred to let her be in peace, but that wasn’t to be. She’d been given back to a world that didn’t appreciate her, didn’t know what it had in her– and to him.

She was back, flesh and blood and warm…oh, God, warm beneath him, breathing, living. But she was broken. Broken by her journey back, broken by the heartache that had gone before; by life and heartbreak. And yet, she’d begun the inevitable process of healing. Starting with him. Buffy had wanted him, needed him. Took strength from him.

And now here he was. With her. In their bed, their house.

Spike felt the pull of the poet he once strove to be raging through him, urging him to put pen to paper and compose something, anything to convey to her the breadth and depth of his emotions. Tamping down that urge, instead, he let his body worship hers, his lips reverently tracing every part of her, his words- meager as they were- a benediction, a plea, all whispered in gratitude for what they had now. “Love you, Buffy. So much.”

Kisses interspersed with words flowed from him, washing over the still form of his mate, his entire being focused on her. “Always. Forever.”

So intent upon her was he, yet still he missed the signs, missed the wakening and missed the tears falling silently at his hushed words of adoration; until warm hands reached to cup his cheek, tracing their own patterns on his alabaster skin.

She didn’t speak, listening instead to his deep rumbling tones wash over her. Lines long forgotten from an old Scottish poem he barely remembered his grandfather reciting to his grandmother flashed into his head and he used it to tell her what he was feeling.

“You are the star in my every night.” His lips trailed across her belly, his hands caressing her gently.

“You are the brightness of every morning.” Spike licked and suckled at her nipples. “You are the face of my sun.”

His mouth licked a path upwards, toward her mouth. He caught the look in her eyes and all words, all thoughts fled. “‘M yours. All I ever was…ever will be…love you so much.”

Buffy threaded her fingers through his hair, holding him to her. “Spike.” She couldn’t talk, couldn’t think of anything to say that would compare to his words. So she showed him.

Her lips sought his, her hands slid across his sleek muscles, her body that called to his.

Following his earlier actions, Buffy laid soft kisses over his shoulders, tiny little teasing things, designed to drive him mad.

“Kitten…need you…need inside.” Suiting action to word, Spike nestled between her legs, his cock bumping against her clit. “C’mon love, lemme in.”

Buffy shifted, opening herself, tilting her hips so that the head of his cock was wedged tightly just inside her. Spike was panting, his breath washing over her while Buffy was desperately trying to gain control. “Spike…love me.”

“Oh, God.” And as he slid inside, the control he’d been relying on deserted him. “Fuck.”

His hips thrust hard into her, his hands clenching around hers, and there was nothing but the feel of her around him, the liquid heat enveloping him…the silky slide of her surrounding him, bathing him in her warmth. He groaned, unable to think, unable to be any…every nerve was on fire.

Buffy clung to him, her hips moving with his, her legs wrapped around his waist, anchoring them together. He was hard and solid, filling her, his cock bumping against her and all she could do was gasp and whimper.

He could feel the pressure building, gaining in intensity, his thrusting increasing in speed, his balls tightening painfully, and he was gasping out her name, breathing into her mouth, aching for her. He felt the fluttering, the spasming, the tightening of her pussy around his cock and Spike was lost. His orgasm rose up, engulfing both of them, breaking like a wave within her, shattering his world and reforming it into something new.