Disclaimer: All the characters and all that belong to Joss Whedon. Just borrowin’.
 
If I had a bigger house, I’d invite all the reviewers over for dinner. Thanks so much. Have a virtual pizza on me.
 
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Chapter 19
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“What do you think of this one, Buffy?”
 
Tara was holding up the most hideous maternity dress ever made. It was trying to be a Hawaiian print, but in purples, pinks, and oranges that were guaranteed to make the wearer look like a luau gone horribly wrong. Willow, Tara, and Buffy laughed so hard that Buffy was sure she was going to pee on herself.
 
“Stop it,” she gasped. “I swear to God, I’m going to die if you hold up another monstrosity.” Buffy and the others had started out looking for ordinary everyday maternity clothes, but had ended up in a contest to find the most hideous examples of the maternity genre possible. The sales people and other pregnant women were starting to stare at these obnoxious, clearly not pregnant young women.
 
“Ok, ok,” Willow teased. “We’ll just find some ordinary, boring, non-muumuu outfits for you. You can be the most boring pregnant lady on the block.”
 
“If you guys ever reproduce I am so getting revenge,” Buffy said warningly. She gathered up the clothes that she wanted to try on and made her way to the fitting room before they attracted too much more attention. Once the door was shut she pulled off the amulet and was amused as her reflection in the mirror went from ‘skinny California girl’ to ‘probable teenage mom’ in a moment. As she tried on various outfits, Buffy realized that she literally could not remember the last time she went shopping for clothes with girlfriends. Have I even done this at all since I was called? I must have done this in high school some time, didn’t I? She shook her head a little at the thought.
 
As she reached for the last outfit, she felt a warmth on her wrist. Her eyes widened as she realized that the demon charm was starting to warm up. Opening the door a crack she called out “Tara? Willow?”
 
“Do you need a different size or something?” Tara asked helpfully.
 
“No,” she said in a quiet voice. “My charm is getting warm. There must be some demon around. Keep your eyes open while I get dressed.”
 
Tara and Willow looked around with wide eyes at the milling women. Tara in particular started scanning people’s auras. Pregnant woman… pregnant woman… bored husband… Suddenly she noticed a woman near the door who was idly flipping through the racks of clothing. She occasionally looked over at the dressing rooms, as if she was waiting for someone to come out. Unlike the women around her, whose auras were an array of different colors, this woman’s aura was flat gray, like a blank canvas. Tara had never seen an aura like that, ever. “Willow,” she whispered. “That woman by the door with the brown hair. Something’s off about her.”
 
Buffy came out with her clothes and said in a normal voice, “I think these will do.” Quietly she added, “See anything?”
 
“Woman with brown hair by the door. Her aura’s all gray,” said Tara quietly.
 
Biting the inside of her cheek, Buffy went up to the counter to pay for the clothes. Her path took her closer to the mysterious woman, and the charm grew warmer and warmer as she approached. As she paid she happened to catch the woman’s glance, noticing that her eyes were unusually dark. After the saleslady handed Buffy her bag, Buffy said to Willow, “Will you hold this for me?” Willow took the bag, wondering what Buffy planned to do.
 
Buffy pretended she was rummaging in her purse as she approached the woman. The woman looked up, then started sidling toward the door. Buffy closed her purse and increased her pace, as the woman turned and walked quickly out the door. Buffy dashed outside to see the woman sprinting around the corner. “Hey!” she yelled, sprinting after her. Buffy rounded the corner to see the woman diving into a black sedan. She chased the car for a block before she had to stop. Between the car’s increasing speed and the difficulty of sprinting while pregnant, she knew she had no chance. Panting, Tara and Willow caught up to her.
 
“Was that… one of those… Kratash things?” Willow asked between gasps.
 
“Yes, I think so,” Buffy replied. “Must have been another one driving the car. I didn’t see the plate, but it looked like a rental car or something.”
 
“We should probably go back and let Giles know,” said Tara, who had finally caught her breath.
 
“I think you’re right,” Buffy agreed. Collecting themselves, they headed back toward the Magic Box.
 
In the black sedan, the female Kratash agent was also panting. “What happened?”asked her partner, alarmed at her sudden reappearance and her urge to ‘Get out of here, now!’
 
“She seemed to somehow know what I was,” the Kratash replied. “She came walking right toward me and when I left she chased me.”
 
“How can she know? She’s not a demon.”
 
“Maybe those friends with her are witches or something. There seems to be a powerful vibe off the red-haired one, and the other one was staring at me.”
 
“Hmm,” said the male Kratash. “I wonder if they are the source of the wards on the Slayer’s house? Perhaps we should investigate them further.”
 
“I agree. We need to be extra careful around the Slayer though if she can sense us or something,” said the female.
 
“We’ll regroup and make a plan. Maybe the others can help,” he said as they drove away.
 
********************************
 
Spike had gone home from the Magic Box and headed up to the desk in Joyce’s room. He pulled out the journal and pen and started writing, a deep feeling of contentment spreading through him as he did.
 
My dearest Emma,
 
I felt you move for the first time today. I can’t describe how amazing it was, to feel my own flesh and blood stirring inside the woman I love. I spend what feels like hours imagining what you will be like. There is so much I want to teach you, tell you. I guess I’ll keep jotting these thoughts down while I wait for you to make your appearance.
 
I’ve learned a few things in a century of living. As strange as it may sound, coming from a vampire, there are some things that I would never do, and I hope you will learn to act the same. I would never betray someone I love. I loved Drusilla with all my heart (and she is another whole story which I won’t relate here), and would do anything for her, until the day she left me. I tell the truth, as much as humanly possible. I’ve never seen a lie or a falsehood that didn’t come back to haunt the teller. I don’t break my promises. I don’t promise things lightly, but I keep my word. I hope you always will too. I can be impulsive, impatient, and hyper. But if something is really worth doing, I’ll do it completely. When I was your mother’s enemy, I made a study of it. And when I decided I loved her, I made a study of that too. I would never say ‘I love you’ unless I truly meant it, and I won’t be careless with another’s heart.
 
All these things won’t make much sense to you until you’re older and you’ve lived a while. But I hope they will help some time. I hope you will learn to love, and give, and I hope you will be fortunate enough to be loved in return by a good mate.
 
I love you already,
Papa
 
He looked at what he wrote with a faint smile. He was incredibly happy. Some of that came from Buffy’s thoughts. She was clearly having a good time shopping with the girls. Even at this distance, he could feel her emotions, if not detailed thoughts. Their range continued to expand. He supposed at some point they would probably be able to hear each other clear across town, which would definitely be a boon.
 
Spike closed the journal and put it away. He decided to surprise Buffy by actually doing the dishes for once, which was a task he avoided whenever possible. As he muscled his way through the pile left from breakfast, cursing himself for not rinsing his mug when he found all the blood had congealed, he reveled in the pleasant emotions coming from Buffy. He loved to see her happy, and to have her enjoying herself with her mates was a very good thing.
 
All of a sudden, the emotions changed, to apprehension and wariness. He nearly dropped a plate at the lighting quick change. He tried to concentrate, but she was too far away to read distinctly. Her apprehension changed to determination, anger, then settled down again. She seemed confused, irritated, and frightened all at once. But there seemed to be no imminent danger, and her emotions died down to a background murmur. Wonder what all that was about? He thought about trying to find her somehow, but he was hampered by not knowing exactly where she was, and his own sunlight issues. Cursing his vampire nature as an annoyance, he realized he had to stay put and wait. He finished the dishes, hung up the dishtowel, and threw himself on the couch in front of the TV, anxiously waiting for her return.
 
It was at least an hour before Buffy showed up, by which time Spike was crawling out of his skin with concern. He managed to pick up her thoughts after a while, and had projected, Buffy? What happened?
 
Long story. Saw a Kratash. Tell you when I get home, okay?
 
Are you alright? he asked with concern.
 
I’m fine. Just a little freaked.
 
Well hurry home, okay?
 
I will.
 
As soon as she walked in the door, Spike was at her side. “What happened?” he asked, taking her into his arms. “I could tell you were having a good time with the witches, but then you got all upset.”
 
“I was in the changing room when the demon detector started getting warm,” Buffy said as she wrapped her arms around him. “There was this woman on the other side of the store. Tara said her aura was gray, really weird. I paid for my stuff as if I hadn’t noticed and tried to get close to her, but she bolted. She got into a black sedan, with what looked like a man with black hair, but I didn’t get a good look. We stopped and told Giles on the way home.”
 
“So I guess we know there are two of them out there,” Spike mused.
 
“And they saw me in a store that sells maternity clothes,” Buffy observed. “They must know!”
 
Spike was quiet for a moment, stroking her hair and thinking. “I guess they must have sussed it out somehow,” he conceded. “They must be much better at this than that first guy. I haven’t smelled or sensed them at all.”
 
“At least I’ll know when they’re around,” Buffy said. “But we still don’t know who they’re working for.”
 
“If they want the baby, they’re probably not trying to kill you,” Spike reasoned. “So either they want to wait until the baby is born so they can take her, or they want to kidnap you and wait for the baby to come.”
 
Buffy shuddered at both thoughts. “What are we going to do?”
 
“We’ll think of something pet,” he said, although at present he had no idea what that something was.
 
**********************
 
Giles was standing on the doorstep of a monastery, waiting for someone to answer the door. He watched as the heavy oak door swung open on its wrought iron hinges and a small, middle aged man in a course brown habit appeared. “May I help you?” he asked in a deep voice.
 
“I certainly do hope so,” said Giles. “My name is Rupert Giles. I had called yesterday about the possibility of taking a look at your library.”
 
“Ah yes, Brother Michael mentioned your call. Do come in. I’m Brother Andrew.” He stepped aside and let Giles in, closing the door behind them. Spike had told Giles about the monastery, having used the library himself to figure out how to send Buffy back to heaven. Giles had decided to try actually making an appointment with the monks, rather than breaking in during the dead of night like Spike had. He had invented a cover story about being from the University of Cambridge and doing research on certain obscure Catholic lore. Giles felt slightly guilty lying to a man of God, but he reasoned that the real story would be unlikely to gain him admittance.
 
Brother Andrew led Giles down the hall to the library. “Our collection is small, but we have a number of obscure texts,” he said by way of introduction. Handing Giles a pair of cotton gloves he said, “I will be across the hall if you need anything. Please take care with our books though – several are quite delicate and irreplaceable.”
 
Pulling on the gloves, Giles said, “I will be extremely careful. Thank you so much for your help.” Brother Andrew withdrew, leaving Giles to set down the notebooks he brought and look around. Giles felt like a kid in a candy store, librarian that he was, and he ran his hand lovingly across an incredible collection of early Christian writings. He had always been more interested in demons as a rule, but he had also spent some time studying the other side of the coin. He had done some preliminary research and now pulled out several books with stories of miraculous births and other obscure legends. He sat down, settled his glasses on his nose, and began to read.
 
A few hours later he was leaning back in his chair, rubbing his eyes and frowning. He couldn’t seem to come across anything that would help them with their problem. He looked up as Brother Andrew came back in, bearing a tray with a teapot and two cups. “I thought you could use a little refreshment,” said the monk.
 
“Thank you, yes,” said Giles. “I hope I am not overstaying my welcome.”
 
“No, no,” the monk said, setting the tea on a side table. Giles came over to join him and soon the two men were sipping steaming cups of fragrant Earl Gray. “So tell me, what exactly have you been searching for all these hours?” said Brother Andrew curiously.
 
Giles took a sip, wondering how to spin this. “I had come across some obscure reference to a… holy person or saint whose mother was able to tell somehow before birth that the child would be especially blessed. I had hoped to find a better version of the legend, or a similar story. It intrigued me, the idea of a mother knowing she would give birth to a saint.”
 
Giles had been making things up to cover his true purpose, so he was astonished when the monk said, “Oh, you must mean the story of St. Endellion. It’s actually mentioned in this collection of tales of old Irish saints here.” Brother Andrew got up and fished an old book with a faded cover from a lower shelf. “It is unfortunately written in a rather obscure form of Latin – no one here has ever managed to fully translate it. From what I understand though, St. Endellion was a virgin hermit or something, whose mother was told by someone that the child glowed in her womb.”
 
Something in the monk’s story sparked Giles’ interest. He asked the monk, “Is there any way I could get a copy of the passage relating to this saint? I am not certain, but it does seem like the information I was looking for. I have a…” Giles hesitated for a moment, not sure what to call Spike. “Fellow researcher who is better at languages than I am.”
 
The monk thought for a moment. “We do not have a copier of any kind. But if you will leave your name and contact information with me, I think we could allow you to borrow the book for a week or so.”
 
Giles brightened visibly. “That would be extremely kind. Thank you so much.” The men chatted about this and that while they finished their tea, after which Giles gathered his things to go. At the door Giles thanked the monk profusely for his help.
 
“I hope you find what you are looking for,” Brother Andrew said warmly. “Go in peace.” Giles headed to his car, finally feeling like some progress was being made.
 
***************************
 
“I’ve got it!” yelled Dawn as the phone rang a few days later. “Hello?”
 
“Hello Dawn, it’s Giles.”
 
“Hey Giles! I’ll call Buffy…”
 
“Actually,” Giles interrupted. “I was hoping to speak to Spike.”
 
Dawn was puzzled – Giles had never asked to speak to Spike directly. “Hang on, I’ll get him,” she said finally. Putting the phone down she called, “Spike? Telephone!”
 
Spike and Buffy had been watching TV after dinner, and looked at each other curiously. Watcher wants to speak to me? he wondered.
 
Better see what it is, Buffy responded with a shrug. Spike got up and answered the phone.
 
“Spike, are you free this evening? I went to the monastery you spoke of, and found a book that I think might give us a lead in finding out the nature of your child. I have struggled with it for a few days, and I am having great difficulty translating it – the Latin is extremely ancient and obscure. I would appreciate your taking a look at it and seeing if you can help.”
 
Spike was rather surprised, but answered, “I’ll give it a go. I’ll come by after patrol.”
 
“Thank you. See you then,” said Giles as he rang off.
 
“What was that all about?” Buffy asked.
 
“Rupert needs some translation help,” Spike said. “I let it be known that I had some language skills.”
 
“You know more than just French?” asked Dawn, who had been the beneficiary of Spike’s help on her homework a bunch of times.
 
“Yeah. I studied languages at university. Fancied myself a scholar and all that.”
 
“Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone you’re not really a punk,” Dawn teased.
 
Spike smirked and turned to Buffy, “Do you want a night off from patrol? I could do a quick sweep and then help Giles out.”
 
“Are you sure?” said Buffy. Truthfully, she was feeling a bit tired. The dreams had become more frequent and disturbing, and she hadn’t slept well in a couple of nights.
 
“Positive,” Spike answered, coming over to kiss her. “Anything else I could get while I’m out?”
 
“I could kill for some pistachio ice cream,” said Buffy. “Oh, and some nacho flavored tortilla chips. And some olives.”
 
Spike laughed. “Pregnancy cravings my dear?”
 
“Shut up,” said Buffy, nailing him with a throw pillow. “Just get the nice pregnant lady what she wants and no one gets staked.”
 
Spike put his hands up in defeat. “You win. I will never mock the nice pregnant lady again.”
 
“I believe you are mocking me right now,” she said with pretend sternness.
 
“I’ll just be on my way then,” he said. Smiling, he grabbed his duster and headed out. He stalked through the town, enjoying cigarettes in between spots of violence as fledges arose or he ran across other vampires. He kept a sharp eye out for anything unusual, but didn’t sense any of the Kratash if they were around. Must have figured out that I got the first one. He made his circuit through town in record time and turned toward the Magic Box.
 
Giles looked up as the bell rang. “Good evening, Spike,” he said as the vampire walked in.
 
“Evening, Rupert.” Spike looked around. “No Scoobies tonight?”
 
“Anya and Xander went out, and Tara and Willow have midterms to study for, so I was able to have some peace and quiet to do research in,” Giles explained.
 
“A welcome change,” Spike agreed, pulling off his coat and sitting down. “So what do we have here?”
 
“The tale of St. Endellion. Apparently she was an obscure Irish saint, a virgin hermit or some such thing. Her mother was informed somehow of her holy status prior to her birth. I thought it might be relevant to Buffy’s situation if the child is of a non-demonic origin. But the Latin is incomprehensible. Well, to me anyhow,” Giles admitted painfully.
 
“Let me have a look,” Spike said. Giles passed the book over and indicated the passage. Spike studied it intently for a few minutes. Giles was fascinated by the contrast between the British punk persona and the intensity with which he pored over the ancient text. After a bit longer, Spike said, “I think I see what the problem is. Some of these words are really more of a form of Gaelic. Sort of like someone speaking Spanglish. The person who wrote this seemed to be switching back and forth, and wasn’t screamingly literate in either.”
 
“Gaelic?” Giles said, looking over Spike’s shoulder. “How do you know?”
 
“Lived with Angelus for a few decades, mate,” said Spike. “When he was deep enough in his cups, he would slip into the Old Tongue. Would sing too, which is a sound not to be believed.” He shuddered a bit at the memory. “But after a while I got curious as to what the bastard was rambling about, so I took the trouble of learning a bit. He still didn’t make a ton of sense, but what the hell, I picked up a little Gaelic.”
 
Giles was amazed. “So can you translate it?”
 
Spike nodded. “I think so. Got a pen?” Giles handed him pen and paper and Spike went to work.
 
Giles busied himself about the shop and made tea for them while Spike scribbled. Giles found himself continually astounded. Spike always seemed so hyper, but here he was as focused as a doctoral student taking qualifying exams. He would expect the cocky vampire to have an illegible scrawl, but his script was a perfect, if old-fashioned, copperplate hand. Spike also seemed to be enjoying himself immensely, like someone doing a crossword puzzle for entertainment. Unable to contain his curiosity, Giles asked, “Where did you study?”
 
“Cambridge,” Spike answered without looking up. “Studied ancient and Romance languages. Worked as a translator for a bit after I graduated.”
 
“How extraordinary,” Giles said.
 
His tone made Spike looked up with an amused smirk. “What, a vampire can’t be educated?”
 
“It’s not that,” Giles sputtered. “It’s just…”
 
“No worries, Watcher,” Spike interrupted. “I’ve been cultivating this persona for decades trying to erase the memory of who I had been. Not your fault if you didn’t see me as anything but a troublemaker.” Spike turned back to the page and made a few more notes.  “Anyhow, I think I’ve got the gist of it.”
 
“So what does it say?” Giles asked, sitting back down.
 
Spike leaned back and read, “ ‘Endellion’s mother was a God-fearing woman, who had prayed long and long for a child. She went daily to beseech the Virgin for a healthy child, promising that the child would be dedicated to God. As she returned one eve from the church in…’ ” Spike paused, frowning. “Sorry, couldn’t figure the name. Anyhow, ‘the mother met an old blind woman with the sight. The seer said, “The Virgin has heard your prayers. I foresee that the child you bear shall be the servant of the Christ all her days, and will be a light to the sinners. She will burn with the love of the Lord.” Thus when the child was born, the mother named her Endellion.’ “ Spike looked up. “Endellion translates as something like ‘soul fire’ or something like that.”
 
“I see,” said Giles thoughtfully. “Is there any more?”
 
Spike shook his head. “It’s not particularly relevant. Goes into miracles attributed to her and so forth.”
 
“It would appear that someone who truly had the sight could tell the nature of the child,” said Giles.
 
“Well the only person I’ve ever met who truly had that talent was Drusilla, and I certainly don’t want her opinion on the matter,” Spike said, shaking his head. “Besides, she was always so cryptic, she could be telling the absolute truth and you’d never know, because you couldn’t figure out what the fuck she was talking about.”
 
“I know the council has occasionally sought the advice of seers, in order to locate or assist Slayers,” Giles mused.
 
Spike scoffed. “Yeah, and if they find out the Slayer’s with child by William the Bloody, how long do you think they’re going to let either of us live?”
 
“They wouldn’t do anything so dramatic,” protested Giles.
 
“Are you certain of that, Rupert?” asked Spike in a low voice.
 
Suddenly, Giles wasn’t as sure as he thought. As much as it pained him to admit it, the council did not always play fair with the slayers. Uncooperative or ‘unseemly’ slayers had been weeded out in the past, to make way for a new girl to be chosen. Did he trust them enough to risk Buffy and her unborn child? Aloud he said, “I understand your reticence about contacting the council. I am unsure where else I can find a seer we can trust.”
 
Spike thought for a moment. “How about that other bloke in L.A.? Wesley. Does he have any contacts?”
 
“It is a possibility,” Giles admitted. “Yes. I think I will call him and see if he knows anyone on this side of the pond who can help us discretely.”
 
Spike stood up and cracked his neck. “Do you need any further help? If not, I’d like to head home to the missus. She’s got a craving for ice cream and olives, God help us.”
 
“No, I think we have done all we can tonight.” Giles stood up and extended a hand to Spike. “Thank you so much for your help. It would have taken me a month to come up with that translation.”
 
Spike shook his countryman’s hand firmly. “And thank you, Rupert, for going out to the monastery. I didn’t really want to have to meet an irritated monk with a crucifix in the dead of night again. I appreciate all you’re doing for us.”
 
“My pleasure, Spike.” With that the vampire vanished out the door, and Giles went to hunt for Wesley’s phone number.
 
TBC