[A/N: I should learn never to make pronouncements from “on high” about my writing, especially when my muse is taller than I am and has the ability to get me to do whatever he wants. I never expected that bathroom scene, but hey, that’s what the muse wanted, so that’s what he got. So here’s one more sort of happy chapter, before the bad things start happening. Title is from one of the quotes and the quotes are as attributed. Disclaimers mean that someone else gets to collect all those lovely royalties. Do you realize that Whedon never has to work again?]

Previously: Christmas is in full swing and the families are all gathering for the festivities. Unfortunately, not all of them wear white hats. Cordelia is still comatose, exhibiting no signs of waking. Buffy’s finally told Spike that she’s pregnant and the news has spread to others, with only Xander still being in the dark. Angel’s forces are gathering. . .


Book Two. Chapter 35. Patient for a moment.

A moment in time but time was made through that moment: for without the meaning there is no time, and that moment of time gave the meaning.
T.S. Eliot, Choruses from The Rock

For one moment seek
a lesser beauty
and a lesser grace,
but you will find
no peace in the end
save in her presence.
Hilda Doolittle, Amaranth

One who cannot be patient for a moment will have days and months of trouble.
Chinese proverb



The girls were still chattering away in the dining room, while silence reigned in the kitchen. Spike had stopped what he was doing to stare at Rupert, who was focused on his drink.

After realizing exactly what Rupert had just said, Spike cleared his throat. “Did you just say you’re not unhappy?” He put down one of the dishes, then asked, “did you also say you were concerned about me?”

Giles cleared his own throat, still not looking at the vampire. “Yes well. Perhaps I did at that.”

Wesley hid his grin, listening to the good natured by-play between his two fellow Englishmen. “Rupes, ‘m touched I am. An’ here I thought you didn’t love me t’all.”

“Pillock.” But Rupert was smiling and he’d said that last bit without venom.

Spike waited until Giles had taken a mouthful of the smooth scotch then observed with deceptive idleness, “guess this makes you grandpa.”

Sputtering into his drink, Giles began coughing and choking, enough so that Wesley felt compelled to pound the older man’s back. Oz was chuckling through his wired jaw and Spike was sporting a Chesire cat’s grin.

Having won this round of verbal one-upmanship that they all occasionally engaged in, Spike was feeling a bit magnanimous. Handing Giles a towel, he said, “you get to dry tonight.”

“Bloody hell.”

Rupert sounded so much like Spike in that moment that they all guffawed.


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


Xander stared down at the all-too-still form of his first girlfriend. Why’d you cut your hair Cordy? Why didya never forgive me for that stupid mistake with Willow? Why the hell did you ever go to LA? He had so many questions, so many things he wanted to – yet didn’t want to – know the answers too.

Her chest rose and fell minutely, the movements barely discernable. The doctors had stopped the coma-inducing drugs, but other than muscle spasms, there was no improvement at all. “C’mon Cordy. Wake up and gimme some Christmas cheer. Day’s almost over and hey, look, I brought you something.”

Holding up a stocking full of chocolate candy, Xander waved it futilely over her still form. Slumping dejectedly back in his chair, Xander let his hands drop.

The Buffybot stirred, then spoke, sounding far to cheerful. “Xander. You should talk to her because her heartbeat moves faster when you speak.”

“Huh?”

Pointing at the monitor, the bot said. “I’ve become way good at reading these machines. That one is for the heart. Say something.”

“Sure. What?” Thinking hard, Xander realized the irony of his situation. The motormouth who, at the moment, couldn’t think of anything at all to say.

“You’re a carpenter. You build things.” The smile on the bot’s features was blindingly inappropriate.

“So? And?” He thought about it for a moment, shrugged and started talking about his job.

The bot stared at the monitor, watching the blips increase in speed as Xander droned on about nothing in particular.


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


Spike was out on the back porch, pale blue smoke curling around his head, echoing the rings puffing from his mouth. The snick of the back door closing behind him did nothing to disturb his contemplation of the clear starry night.

He’d figured she’d make her way out here sooner or later, looking for him and a quiet moment.

“Come sit with me pidge.”

His voice was calm, no discernable emotion coloring its depths and she smiled, thinking about how well he could read her, and her never very clear emotions, even when his own were just as tumultuous.

Smiling a bit, she plopped down beside him with sudden absolute gracelessness, as if her limbs had grown inches between the time she came outside and sat down. Casting an eye in his direction waiting for him to poke fun, she ran through her own snarky, witty retorts.

When he remained silent, she almost felt cheated, since she’d been expecting his teasing commentary.

Spike stole a glance at the woman-child sitting beside him and hid a grin.

“Cough it up.”

Whipping her head around to look at him, she started to say something, then thought better of it and snapped her mouth shut, clicking her teeth together.

“You’ll explode if you don’t let it out pet.”

Staring down at her hands, she realized something and before her brain could stop her mouth, she was blurting it out.

“We have the same hands.”

Very aware that wasn’t what she’d come out here to say to him, Spike raised an eyebrow and said nothing, more than content to wait her out.

“What was she like?”

At that Spike did look at her, wondering what – or rather – why, she was asking about this. And why tonight.

“You said that she looked like me. So, what was she like?”

He picked up one of those little girl hands that was very like his own and searched for something to tell her.

“Will the baby look like us?”

So that was what she was really thinking about. “Nib, I’d imagine some would come through. Did with you.” He laced their fingers together, squeezing hers tightly. “Not gonna change how I feel ‘bout you, sweets. Nothin’ could change that.”

“Spike. . . “ Dawn’s voice was very quiet in the crisp air and for a second he could hear the echoes of his mother and Janet.

“Dawnie. You’re always gonna be m’girl, yeah? Jus’ because there’s a new one . . . “

He looked at her, watched as the one true feature they alone shared filled with tears and his resolve broke. “C’mere pidge.”

Settling her under his arm, Spike stroked her back. “You were the first Summers to really trust me. First one to love me. Ah hah. . . . “ he motioned her to silence. “Know those were planted mem’ries, but the truth is, pidge, without knowin that, an’ knowin’ full well what I am, you still did all that. Fake memories don’t mean shite in the long term, Bit, the truth is here.” His hand rested over his unbeating heart, then his knuckles thumped against her chest.

“You’re mine Dawnie. Same way that one Buffy’s got all tucked up safe inside is. You got here first. An’ a bit differently, but who cares ‘bout that?”

He wasn’t sure he’d made her understand, since he couldn’t see her face, but when a big fat tear plopped down on his thigh, Spike thought maybe he did.

And when Dawn wiped her eyes, whispering, “thanks Daddy,” Spike knew it.


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


Everyone was sitting around, watching cheesy Christmas videos, bellies full and, in the case of Wesley, barely able to hold off napping, but Buffy wasn’t tired. At least not at the moment. Even Connor was sleeping, tucked into his portable crib in the corner of the living room, practically under the tree. Scanning the room, she realized both Spike and Dawn were missing, but guessing where one was the other wasn’t far behind, she wasn’t worried about either of them. She was, however, strangely hungry.

And she wanted something she normally didn’t eat at all.

She wanted . . . . she didn’t know what she wanted. Peanut butter and jelly? Her belly rumbled its approval and following her impulse, Buffy headed straight for the kitchen. Hopefully, there’s some there. . . .

Half the sandwich was gone and she was busy looking for a glass to get some milk when she heard soft footsteps entering the kitchen from the dining room. Without turning around, she poured herself a big glass of milk and following another impulse, she looked in the refrigerator for some butter.

‘How’s your stomach?” Giles’ soft question filled the air and though she had guessed it was him, Buffy stiffened just a little. Aside from Joyce, this man was the one constant adult presence in her life since she’d turned fifteen and suddenly the bombshell she and Spike had dropped earlier seemed all the more like a really huge, big, enormous deal.

“Pretty okay at the moment.” Buffy smiled at him, her milk mustache making her look like she was five. She bit into the sandwich, humming a mindless “happy-tummy” tune while she chewed.

Motioning to her face with a napkin, Giles said, “you’ve got a mustache.”

A soft giggle overtook her and Buffy wiped it away. Knowing just by the look on his face that Giles had loads to say, and probably not all of it of the good, she put down the sandwich and said, “okay, Giles, spill.”

“How are you feeling?” The concern this time wasn’t feigned or forced so Buffy answered him honestly.

“Aside from the weirdness that is my inability to eat, pretty okay. I’m mostly tired.” Absently she put two pieces of bread into the toaster and made herself another half of a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.

His eyes on her movements, Giles chose to say nothing about what she was doing, instead focusing on her words. “So the nausea is manageable?”

“Well, no. I didn’t exactly say that.” She paused, finished her milk and then headed back to the refrigerator for more. “Its just my belly has put new meaning into rebellious.”

He couldn’t help the chuckle that surfaced at her deliberate over-exaggerated pronunciation of the word. She certainly knew how to mangle the English language. “Buffy. . . “

The toaster popped and Buffy headed for it, not exactly encouraging Giles to continue, but more than aware he was going to say what he felt was necessary, regardless of her feelings on the matter. He remained silent however, as she neatly buttered the toast and popped one of the pieces into her mouth before the butter had completely melted. Buffy closed her eyes, savoring the crisp toast crumbs and the melting buttery taste on her ultra-picky tastebuds, and smiled.

Giles watched her, an amused grin at her genuine delight at the taste of the toast playing about his features. She caught his expression when she finally opened her eyes and Buffy smiled at him, blushing a bit at having been caught. Without much of a preamble, he took the opening her smile gave him, and spoke. “I expected this to happen, just not quite this quickly.”

He paused while she approached the counter, one piece of toast in her hand and apprehension blooming on her features. “I’ve no doubt you were anticipating this outcome also.” Buffy fidgeted with the toast, her fingers shredding the bread into smaller and smaller pieces. “It is the usual inevitable outcome when one is newly paired and not thinking clearly about methods of prevention.”


Excessive wordage. Yup, definite signs of impending lecture from watcher-guy-father-figure. Stifling the sigh that threatened to escape from her lips, Buffy waited for the impending doom. The silence loomed between them, and for once she realized that he was searching for a way to frame not only what he was thinking, but what he was feeling. Never big with patience, something she more than had in common with her mate, Buffy started to speak, when Giles held up a hand, stopping the flow of her words before they even started.

“Hear me out.”

And he suddenly found himself without the ability to speak as his slayer’s eyes filled with unexpected tears. Her lower lip quivered a bit, but before he realized the harshness of his tone, she inhaled deeply and stopped herself from crying. “Buffy, I,” he looked on as her resolve firmed, then reached for her hand, “I am sorry, that was rather harsh sounding. Forgive me?”

Without giving her more than a moment to shake her head, Giles forged ahead, although his first words perplexed her. “Your mother was a fairly astute judge of character. She never trusted Angel, even before the . . . well, and she trusted him even less after his soul was restored. In hindsight, she was perhaps, smarter than the rest of us.”

Giles shook his head, lost in remembrances for a moment, then brought himself back to the present. “However, your mother did trust Spike from the first. Why she did so always escaped me and we shared a few debates on the subject, especially in the last year, while we were battling Glory. But your mother’s trust wasn’t misplaced at all. In the end, she knew far better than I did, and that’s not something I relish admitting.”

Her eyes were trained on his, searching for something other than sincerity on his features. “Spike has more than exhibited his trustworthiness. However, that isn’t the issue. The facts are, the situation we are in warrants caution and care. Angelus and Drusilla are formidable opponents, ones we have faced before, however it took the combined efforts of yourself and Spike to defeat them. And you were in top form then.”

His glasses came off and Giles peered at her a bit myopically. “You are obviously not in top form, which has me concerned. And not just for you and your safety. I’m concerned about the baby, and god help me, Spike. Should something happen to you or the baby, Spike would. . . “

“Spike would rip Angelus and Drusilla apart.” Buffy found her voice finally and her pronouncement was without inflection. “You know it. He wouldn’t rest until they were both gone.”

“Even Drusilla?” Giles wanted to be certain that Spike’s loyalties where undivided.

“Giles. If something were to happen to me or the baby. . . Spike would. . . “

“Spike would wreak bloody havoc, Watcher.” His voice broke into the quiet conversation, his tones harsh and chilling. “Doesn’t matter who’s done it.”

Turning a slightly guilty countenance toward his slayer’s mate, Giles caught the fierce and feral expression in his eyes, before Spike turned his head to gaze at Buffy. “Not gonna let anything hurt my girls or the new one. Should already know that, shouldn’t have to keep repeatin’ myself.”

Letting Dawn slip in behind him, before he very carefully closed the door, Spike moved to stand behind Buffy, his arms circling around her waist. His hands clasped protectively together in front of her belly and Buffy sort of leaned back against his chest. Spying the shredded toast and the remains of a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, Spike nudged her gently. ‘Did you eat something?”

“Yeah. Not hungry anymore.”

Before either of them could start arguing, Dawn interrupted, saying, “I’m just gonna go call Casey. I’ll ah, talk to you later. Thanks Spike.” With that she was gone, pounding up the steps, escaping the uncomfortable atmosphere of the kitchen.

Giles knew he had to do some fence-mending and he needed to do it quickly, otherwise Buffy would, no doubt, not forgive him. “My apologies. I’m concerned about the situation, and I believe it’s warranted, given what we are facing.”

They were all quiet for a moment, each one of them deep in thought regarding the current situation. Spike was, as usual the first one to speak. “Not like Angelus to move before he’s ready, though us rescuin’ the cheerleader probably put a crimp in his plans. He’s likely to strike now, an’ then skulk away for a bit.”

“Any indication that other Aurelians might be responding to his call?” Giles was worried about the number of possible opponents, knowing they had a finite number of battle ready warriors.

“None yet. Least a’ways none that I felt.” The vampire shrugged, the motion pulling Buffy closer against him, her back molded to his front.

“I’ll be back to good as new in a couple of weeks. This belly-achy Buffy can’t last for the next nine months.”

The two Englishmen shared a look over her head that Buffy didn’t catch. “Kitten, dunno how much fightin’ you should be doing over the next couple of months. Can’t take any chances.”

“Spike, I should be fine. I’ve been doing this for years and well, I won’t go out without you. Besides, we still have skirt-girl who can do regular patrol.” He’d forgotten about the bot, but Spike knew there was a flaw somewhere in her plans, mainly because he hadn’t thought that far ahead. He’d been overwhelmed with just the emotions surrounding the truth of their reality. The reality of Buffy being pregnant. The more practical implications hadn’t begun to register within him, up until these moments with Rupert. Leave it to the watcher to think of the practicalities of the matter, while he was more concerned with the emotions. Buffy was lost in her own thoughts, hers straying not to far from Spike’s, although on some level she was aware of Giles’ concerns and worries.

“We must also take into account Willow. Heaven knows what she’s up to, or what side of the fence she’ll land on.” Once again Giles was spouting practicalities and possibilities. Letting go with a very loud yawn, Buffy leaned her head against Spike’s shoulder.

Giles caught a glimpse of the distaste within Buffy’s eyes and immediately changed the direction of the conversation. “All that aside, you do realize this is a miraculous event.”

A slight smile twitched on Buffy’s lips and as she stole a glance up at Spike’s profile, she threw Giles’ words from earlier back at him. “But isn’t it the inevitable outcome when one is not thinking clearly about methods of prevention?”

“Who said we were thinking about prevention?” Spike’s voice was filled with laughter and some other emotion that Giles couldn’t really place. ‘As I recall, most times wasn’t thinking clearly at all.”

Rupert stared at the pair of them, fighting his laughter, affecting a stern visage. “Really must both of you mock me?”

“Oh Rupes, how to resist when its so bloody easy?”

“Oh ha bloody ha.” Despite the sarcasm in his tones, Giles was teasing them and it was very evident on his normally impassive face. Breaking into a very proud grin, Rupert clapped Spike on the black and leaned down to brush a kiss over Buffy’s cheek. “Still in all, it’s a miracle.”

And, he thought, it’ll be another miracle if we manage to keep you safe.


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


Everything was in place, everything was ready. Her supplies were in hand, spread out before her, the book opened to the correct page and Willow had stripped away all the useless bits from the spell. Jonathan had tried to remake the world so that he was the center of it all; and thereby throwing everything off to the point of instability. Willow had no desire to be the center – she didn’t want the fame or fortune or the notoriety that had followed Jonathan around after he’d invoked the enhancement spell. No, that’s not what she wanted.

Willow wanted everything to be the right way. She wanted to be back with Tara, wanted to be Buffy’s best friend and the one Dawn turned to for advice and . . . she wanted Giles to respect her. And her power. She wanted everything to be the way she thought it should be.

Spike gone. Either back in his crypt or, hey, even further away.

Tara back in her bed, soft limbs and welcoming flesh around her, holding her close.

Buffy trading secrets with her about their lives and loves and . . . . all that.

That’s what she wanted. Everything back the way it should be.

And that’s what she was going to get.

Beginning the chant to start the wheels in motion, Willow pursed her lips into her resolve face and got to work.


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



Finally, everyone who didn’t live in the house at Revello Drive was gone, home to their own homes. Christmas was over. Done.

Buffy had survived her first Christmas without her mother and really, except for a few tough moments here and there, she’d been okay, and hadn’t let the tears fall. And anyway, she wasn’t sure if the tears were there because her mother was gone or because she was all emotional girl because her hormones were getting wacky. Spike was locking the door behind Giles and Wesley, turning out the lights as he made one final circuit through the house. Watching him from the bottom stair, Buffy unconsciously rocked Connor in her arms. The baby was barely awake, his eyes focusing on her features as he tugged on her lips and her hair. Aside from the howling whenever he was hungry, Connor was a very good baby, even-tempered and quiet. She found herself wondering which one of his parents he got those traits from, because in her experience, neither one of them ever exhibited any evidence of them.

Spike stopped in front of her, looking down at her, a smile playing about his features. “Did you have a good day love?”

“Yeah. Did you?”

His smile widened and he wrapped an arm around her shoulder as he swooped down to kiss her. “Had a great day.”

She bit her lower lip, looking up at him from beneath dark eyelashes, a question in her eyes. “Really?”

“Really sweetheart.”

“Really really?” She shifted Connor up to her shoulder and one hand smoothed the front of Spike’s shirt, fiddling with the collar.

“Really. Truly. Haven’t done the Christmas thing in a very long while, love, but it was great.” His thumb reached up to brush away a wisp of hair from her cheek and she curled into his touch. “Got the best gift. You. Niblet. Spawn. And now bittybit.”

“Bittybit? Spike. . . you are so gonna have to come up with something else to call this baby. Bittybit is just weird.” Her nose wrinkled and she pursed her lips, but there was a twinkle in her eyes that told him she was really teasing him.

“Makes sense, though. Dawn is bitty-Buffy and this new one is bitty-bitty Buffy.” He was trying to keep a straight face, but her soft giggles were infectious and he was having a hard time holding back the laughter.

“Well, what if its not a bitty-bitty Buffy, but a bitty-bitty Spike? What are you gonna do then?” She glanced at him over her shoulder as they climbed up the stairs and nonchalantly asked him “gonna call him lil’ bad?”

His answer was just a swat on her butt and a bit of a growl.

“Is that supposed to scare me? C’mon Spike, what are you gonna call the baby if it’s a boy? I’m so not dyeing an infant’s hair. Or getting leather for a baby.”

“Ha bloody ha, woman. Very funny. Wouldn’t do that to a nipper.” He pushed open the door to their bedroom, letting her precede him inside. “And your hair color is the one you were born with.”

“Hey! It’s close.” Putting Connor down in his crib, Buffy turned to look at him. “It’s closer than yours is anyway.”

A raised eyebrow and a pointed look at her pelvis was all the answer he gave her, but she could see what he was thinking on his face. As she was about to retort, a wide yawn overtook her and Buffy slumped down onto the bed next to him. “So tired. Wanna sleep.”

“C’mon love, into bed with you.”

He settled in behind her, spooning against her back, his arms wrapping around her. His left hand splayed over her belly and Spike whispered into her ear, “love you kitten. You and bitty-bitty-bit.”

Buffy laughed sleepily, whispering back to him, “I love you, too Spike. You and lil’ bad.”



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