[A/N: I’m working on this, slowly but surely, chipping away at the plotlines and all the fun stuff. . . . . Title is from one of the quotes, which are as attributed. Disclaimers are in full force and effect.]

Previously: Angel knows Drusilla had sex with Lawson and he’s thinking about adding to the family; Jenner is about to make his presence known; Giles, Wesley, Faith and Anya are in the Magic Box researching; and Dawn is back in the hospital after attempting suicide. This picks up shortly after the last installment.

Book two. Chapter 48. Golden sunsets and black storms

In nature there are unexpected storms;
in life there are unpredictable vicissitudes.
Chinese proverb

The talk of sheltering woman
from the fierce storms of life
is the sheerest mockery,
for they beat on her from
every point of the compass,
just as they do on man,
and with more fatal results,
for he has been trained to protect himself,
to resist, to conquer.
Elizabeth Cady Stanton,.As quoted in History of Woman Suffrage, vol. 4, ch. 12, by Susan B. Anthony and Ida Husted Harper

It’s the set of the soul that decides the goal,
And not the storms or the strife.
Ella Wheeler Wilcox, The Winds of Fate


Living is strife and torment,
disappointment and love and sacrifice,
golden sunsets and black storms.
I said that some time ago,
and today I do not think I would add one word.
Laurence Olivier, LA Times26 Feb 78



Lawson spent the rest of the daylight hours hiding from Angel and the rest of his minions, anxious to get away from the mansion. His tryst with Drusilla had unsettled him, more then he was willing to admit out loud. He barely wanted to admit it at all. Some hardly felt sense . . . . something kept eating at him, about what he and Drusilla had done. Exacerbating his unwanted guilt, knowing Drusilla felt less then nothing about the whole situation increased that minuscule emotion.

Pacing the confines of his small room, Sam tried to come up with some way to safely reveal his presence to Spike. So far he’d come up with nothing more elaborate or intelligent than just walking into the Slayer’s territory and announcing he was there to see Spike. He had no idea how that would go over though, because he had no idea how they would deal with a vampire seeking out Spike. And just why was he looking for him. . . he had no idea what exactly he was searching for – what purpose drove him to seek out some sort of an answer for what had happened to him, what was still happening.

All he knew at this moment was, despite the blood-line call of his sire, Sam no more belonged here with the rest of his ‘family’ than the slayer did. The . . . . well, it wasn’t exactly debauchery, but it certainly wasn’t decorous behavior, of those he was housed with constantly grated on him, and their unwillingness to accept his presence played havoc with his need for companionship and contact. He’d been alone for so long now, that the lack of someone to just connect with was playing on his sanity and sensibilities. Meaningless sex was fulfilling if that’s all he was looking for, but Sam was tired of multiple partners and no real intimacy. If he was human, he’d think about settling down and getting married, but that fate had been taken away from him. Hell, right now he’d be happy with a dog for companionship.

Maybe Spike had some insight for him – something – a reason.

He’d come too far not to try.


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They’d gotten everything they could from Jonathan, including his original source for the spell he’d used two years ago. Most helpful had been his advice on what to look for demon-wise. He, aside from Buffy, was the only one to actually see the demon his spell had conjured and it was his off-hand remark to Wesley that got the former Watcher thinking heavily. Jonathan had said, while they were looking through a demon identification guide, “if this spell is incomplete, the demon might not be complete either.”

Wesley had scoffed at first, but the more he’d thought about it, the more sense Jonathan’s statement made. The spell itself was incomplete, therefore the logic dictated the converse was also true. The equal and opposite rule was immutable; if the original spell was incomplete or faulty in any way, then the opposite had to be the same. After gaping at Jonathan for a few moments, while his brain wrapped around this simple truth, he’d mentioned the younger man’s statement to Giles, who quickly agreed with Wesley’s assessment of the situation. That precipitated the current focus of their research – making something incorporeal solid.

Their success rate, at the moment had been slowed considerably due to an unusual influx of retail customers, which necessitated the assistance of not only Giles, but Wesley and Jonathan as well. Anya was at her best, brightly acknowledging each and every one with a smile and a cheery greeting.

Despite the mundane distraction, both Giles and Wesley had their minds on the methods and means of spellwork. Neither one of them thought of calling in the distaff side of the magical equation, some flare of awareness warning them separately not to tread down that path.

Once the hordes of capitalists had been dealt with, the two Englishmen headed for the same volume, the younger man reaching the tome first. Giles detoured for the training room then, calling out for Faith to join them, since they now had a more tangible lead and a way to break the spell. Getting her attention was simple, all he said was, “we’ve got something.”

Faith stopped punching at the bag, untaped her hands and moved into the shop area. “What’s up? Just tell me what I need to do.”

“We’ve got one more component to refine, but after that I believe we’ll be ready to form a plan of attack.” Giles spoke as he walked forward toward the table.

Wesley was scribbling furiously on a pad, rifling through a volume with his free hand. Without looking up at Giles, he ripped off the top sheet, handing it to the older man. “We need these ingredients and a crystal prism, to focus the energy.”

Glancing down at the list, Giles handed it directly to Anya, who had come to stand behind him, and he saw her shake her head at the list. “I suppose we’ll have to charge this to your personal account?”

Emitting a long suffering sigh, Giles shook his head at her and smiled slightly. “Of course. Can’t muck about with the record-keeping.” He paused, taking the list back from her. “Yes Anya, please charge it to my account. Have we got the prism Wesley needs?”

“Any particular crystal prism, or will just a generic one do?” The ex-demon made a face at Giles, though she couldn’t mask her slight annoyance with his flippancy over the proper accounting, addressing her question to Wesley.

“Have we got an Austurian cyrstal? If not the other will be fine.” He answered, again, without lifting his head from the book in front of him, intent upon ironing out this last bit of
information.

“We have three different kinds of Austurian. Do you require blue, green or yellow?” She moved toward the more expensive crystal displays, indicating the crystals in question.

Flipping back pages in the book before he answered her, Wesley ran a finger over the page he wanted, and asked rather sheepishly, “have you got a green one that lightens to yellow at the center?”

Pursing her lips, and bypassing the display, Anya reached down the shelves into the cabinet itself. “This one is very rare. Are you sure you need this specific one? I could get a very nice sum of money for this on the open market.”

She said it so matter of factly that none of the others registered the bluntness for a few moments. Faith snickered, hiding a grin by turning away her head, while both Giles and Wesley sported completely exasperated looks, Giles merely raising an eyebrow in her direction while Jonathan swung his head from person to person.

“Oh all right, but really Giles, you have to stop using all our best stock on in-house spells.”


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It was after five and Dawn was beginning to stir, her hands and feet fluttering spasmodically, eyes moving rapidly beneath closed lids, whimpers sounding behind closed lips. In the time between his arrival and the current moment, Spike had managed to finally convince Buffy it might be better for all of them to let the hospital keep Dawn, just for one night. He’d also managed to promise they’d both stay with her and he would smuggle in the sprog and Kirsten, so everyone would be together.

Buffy thought he was crazy, promising all that, but he’d left just a little while ago, the minute the sun had dropped far enough for him to forego the sewers on a quest to get Kirsten and the baby. She’d made him promise if there was a hint of any problem with the hospital staff, he would bring the two straight to Giles.

She was sitting in a chair in the corner of the room, watching the fits and starts of her sister’s body making the arduous swim back to reality. The original doctor had told her to expect the tremors, but to watch for real thrashing, which would indicate a seizure.

So far, though, everything was quiet.

Dawn was mumbling now, the sounds making no sense at all, none of the noises above a soft whisper. Buffy was just about to get up and go to Dawn, make an attempt to calm her, when the door swung open behind her. Turning around to face the intruder, Buffy was happily surprised when the plump red-headed nurse from the night before bustled into the room.

“I just found out, sweetie, otherwise I would’ve been in to see you both sooner. How are you doing?”

Grateful and nonplused at the same time, Buffy froze as her uncertainty took over. It was at once what she wanted and feared. Mothering and a loss of control. Unable to give voice to her new companion, Buffy merely shrugged her shoulders. When she didn’t get a verbalized answer, Maureen Osbourne stopped taking Dawn’s vitals and eyed the Slayer. “Are you okay? Do you need anything?”

Buffy finally looked at her. “I’m okay, I guess. Spike went out to get stuff.”

“All right. I’m working tonight and so is Dr. Thomas. The orders for Dawn’s room have been delayed. So you and Spike won’t be disturbed while you’re down here. If you need me, I’ll be right down the hall.”

After writing down Dawn’s vitals, Maureen squeezed Buffy’s arm, then left the room.

She retreated back to the chair, her eyes on Dawn’s twitching body.


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


Oz was trying to practice, showing his bandmates the new songs he’d been writing, oddly enough most of them about love. He wasn’t a demonstrative person, nor the kind who normally let others in on his emotions, but these lyrics had his bandmates staring at him with stunned looks. He was beginning to feel a bit uncomfortable, when Devon picked up the thread of the melody and grabbed the papers in front of Oz and began singing.

Pretty soon, the rest of the band had joined in, leaving Oz free to breathe and just hear the songs. He couldn’t shake the image of her out of his head, despite his best efforts. He knew, deep down, she didn’t love him, didn’t return the emotions in the way he wanted or needed, but he couldn’t stop the way he was feeling. It was different too, from what he’d felt for Willow – there wasn’t that spark of passion, it was an altogether different feeling.

It was good. Warm. Like apple pie and vanilla. Like his mother’s laundry soap and the smell of clean sheets. The quiet of the monastery at night. Stuff everyone took for granted, but always brought a sense of peace and comfort. Oz found himself anxious for everything to go back to being normal. . . . whatever normal was.


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



Sneaking the sprog and his baby slayer into the hospital was a walk in the park. Especially considering how nearly everyone had been involved in something else, and those that weren’t turned a blind eye when the baby-toting vampire slipped in through the ambulance port.

Kirsten followed behind Spike, a backpack full of baby supplies slung over her shoulders. Connor had been fussing, whiny and fitful since he’d woken up from his afternoon nap, enough so Kirsten had seriously thought of heading out for the hospital on her own. She’d been shoving necessities into the backpack when Spike burst through the door, bellowing her name.

Ten minutes later they were on their way back to the hospital, Connor strapped into his car seat and Spike anxious to be gone.

So now here she was, walking into the room containing her mother and sister. Kirsten shook off the eeriness, forcing away the total weirdness. Dawn was safe now – as safe as possible anyway. She knew it, could sense it. Two sets of memories walked side by side through her mind and Kirsten fought the impulse to tell them everything she knew. Although that might be much worse than what she’d already done and she knew her father wouldn’t want that.

It was time. Time to go back – well, forward. She sighed at herself. Return to where she belonged.

She knew the spell blocking their memories was about to be broken and they too would be returning to what should be.

Her eyes swept the small examining room, noting the twitching figure on the gurney, Dawn’s dark hair hanging down off the side. Buffy – Mom – was facing the door, her eyes flickering between fear and amusement as she shifted her gaze between Dawn and Spike. Lines of fatigue bracketed her mouth and Kirsten found herself comparing this with the Mom she’d left behind. . . .

And then there was Spike. Her Daddy.

What had happened to the cynical, almost broken man who’d finally come home. . . .

Kirsten sighed, drawing their attention. Physically they looked pretty much the same, but she knew the intervening fifteen or so years had wrought an emotional toll on them, ravaging them both.

She realized then, at that precise moment, staring at them both, Connor gurgling happily in his bouncy chair, the decision she and the other two had made had been the right one.

Their intentions had been pure – almost completely selfless – and in saving Dawn – they’d saved all of them.

A crooked smile crossed her features, so like her mother’s and both blondes recognized it; and surprising everyone, including herself, Kirsten burst into tears.

Buffy was the first to reach her, her arms encircling her and for the first time since she’d walked through time, Kirsten touched her mother.

“Hey, its okay.” Wiping away the tears, Buffy glanced down into the teen’s eyes. Understanding came on reluctant feet and try as she might to fight it, Buffy couldn’t play denial girl. “Time to go, huh?”

Kirsten slowly nodded her head, unwilling to meet either of their eyes.

Spike had moved closer, standing just behind Buffy, his eyes watching both of them intently. His expression darkened as he watched two of his girls, and he found himself memorizing Kirsten’s features, imprinting them in his head. There were moments, earlier, when part of him wanted to know just exactly why she’d taken such a terrible risk and what future had she been attempting to avert – and then he thought better of having too much information. He knew Buffy had felt the same way also, could sense the questions swirling in her head and also her decision to purposefully not ask. If it was bad enough to send their fifteen year old daughter careening through time, neither one of them wanted to know. It was enough to know they’d successfully avoided what set Kirsten on this path.

It was done. Now it was time to send her back and Spike found himself fighting the urge to beg her to stay, knowing how very impossible that urge was. Buffy pulled back a little, her eyes scanning Kirsten’s face and Spike’s arm stole around her waist, his left hand curving over the lines of Buffy’s still flat belly. Her right hand linked with his and her left brushed the hair back from Kirsten’s face. It was a gesture she used often with Dawn and Buffy’s eyes filled with tears again.

“Yeah. I have . . . I need to go back.” Her voice hitched and broke more than once, like some weird vocal rollercoaster and Kirsten tried hard to keep the tears from springing to her eyes again. She shook her head once, fighting the tears and stepped back away from their embrace. “I know. . . Its like really uncool to say it. . . “ Kirsten made a funny face, scrunching up her nose and continued, “but, I just. . . . I love you.”

Buffy reached for her again, but Kirsten shook her head and stepped further away. “I gotta go.“

With a last look into both their eyes, Kirsten headed for the door. It was only Spike’s voice that stopped her. “How’re you getting back to where you’re supposed to be?”

She paused, her hand on the doorknob, to turn and look at them over her shoulder. “Same way I got here, I just kinda . . . . close my eyes and make it happen.”

“Just close your eyes? What in fuckin’ hell . . . . What the bloody hell do you mean, just close your eyes?” His agitation, which had been hovering at dangerous levels for hours now, rose again, and only Buffy’s hand on his arm held him back.

“Look, I don’t really know how to explain it. Pop does a better job than I do, but then he’s good at this kind of stuff. All I know is I can make time, I can sorta make time kinda fold in on itself.” She shrugged, then relented at the looks on their faces. “I don’t know exactly how I can do it. Its like Dawn’s ability to open dimensional walls and Connor’s freaky super strength, and . . . “ she paused, thinking better of letting slip anything else. “So yeah, its like that. Super side benefits of being hybrids.”

“If you can do that, princess, why is it you need to leave this room?” Spike was suspicious, and there was a lot of this he was taking on faith that someday he’d understand it all, but he wasn’t exactly thrilled with everything that was happening.

“I don’t. Not really. I just kinda . . . “

“Are used to sneaking around?” Once she thought about it, that scenario made so much more sense then any other and Buffy just had to say it.

Looking for all the world like the busted teen that she was, Kirsten just gaped at her parents. “Um. Yeah. I guess.”

Buffy and Spike shared a look Kirsten didn’t want to understand, but she thought maybe she did, and when Buffy spoke, she was sure of it. “Did you think we wouldn’t figure it out? I used to sneak out of my house all the time, trying to hide what I was doing from Mom. Even after she knew I still climbed out the window some nights.”

There wasn’t anything Kirsten could say to either of them and she had the sinking feeling she and her siblings were never going to be able to get away with much. A deep sigh emerged from her mouth and Kirsten didn’t meet their eyes. “I really have to go.”

Neither one of them spoke, waiting for Kirsten’s next move. She stepped forward to hug them one more time and smiled nervously when Spike whispered, “I’ll see you after, bit.”

Hiding the frisson of fear creeping down her back, she stood away from them, and ducked her head, unwilling to meet his intense gaze. “Okay Daddy.”

She closed her eyes, concentrated on her own heartbeat, ignoring the sounds from the others in the room with her. Time slowed as her heartbeat did and Kirsten concentrated on the last thing she’d seen in her timeline. . . . and her connection with Robbie. Focusing heavily on that, Kirsten felt the edges of her consciousness alter, thinning, stretching out endlessly and she took a step forward and while Buffy and Spike looked on, she disappeared.


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


Wesley and Giles had performed a trace locator, for spell activity in the last three days, and found a generalized location of where the spell had been performed. Once that had been done, it was easy to perform a second trace spell, for any magics associated with the original spell. Using the map, it was clear, from the pin-points, the spell had some far reaching impact. There were traces of the spell’s effects in the Magic Box, the house on Revello, which they’d expected; completely unexpected was a faint trace connection somewhere in the location of the docks.

Anya stared at the map, looking over Giles’ shoulder while Wesley tried to narrow down the faint trace. It was Jonathan who pointed out exactly what they were all thinking. “I bet that’s where the demon is.”

“Its possible.” Giles wasn’t quite ready to concede the point, especially given how little they knew for sure about this whole situation. Sunnydale wasn’t that big a town, and the map was a fairly large one – he hadn’t said anything about the location, though he was fairly certain the spell had been performed in very close proximity to the Rosenberg residence. He was shaken from his thoughts by Faith’s voice.

“So do we need a visual of this sometimes invisible demon?”

Wesley shook his head. “I’d feel better if we had a confirmation of sorts, plus once we have a visual sighting, the spell can be performed and you can destroy it.”

“All that huh? We gonna do this now or wait for the power blonds?” Faith folded her arms across her chest, eyes flicking between the Watchers.

Without waiting for Giles, Wesley said, “I think we should go ahead without them. I’m fairly confident you can take care of anything that might pop up.”

“Agreed.” Giles began gathering up the supplies, shoving them into a bag. “Buffy needs to focus on Dawn. We can deal with this.”

Satisfied they were okay with the situation, Faith relaxed fractionally, then moved to the weapons. “So how are we doing this? You guys do the mojo and I’m just the hired muscle?”

Grimacing at her description, Giles shook his head. “Not quite. You and Wesley will be armed. I should be able to perform the spell on my own. Jonathan? Would you mind assisting me?”

The small young man puffed up, more than a bit surprised by Giles’ request, yet incredibly pleased. Anya, however, had a different reaction.

“What? Why are you taking him? How come he gets to go? I’m a very competent spellcaster, and . . . and I can fight too!”

Drawing her away, Giles smiled down at her, his eyes twinkling. “There isn’t anyone I’d rather have beside me, Anya, but if you come with us now, who will watch the shop? I don’t trust anyone but you with my shop.”

It took her a beat, but she finally returned his smile. “That’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.” And she threw her arms around him in an impulsive hug. “In that case, I’m glad you’re taking Jonathan. I’m sure he’ll be adequate.”

“If all goes well, everything should be back to normal shortly.”

“I hope so, because otherwise I’ll have to balance the books without knowing any of our information.” The prospect seemed to send her into a bit of a tizzy, but before he could respond, Faith was calling out, “time to motor.”


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


Using his limited knowledge of the town, Sam relied on what information he did have and his own heightened senses in order to find Spike.

Gambling heavily, Lawson followed the most recent trail his senses had picked up, leading him back toward the hospital. He hadn’t expected that, but the closer his steps got toward the building the stronger the trace was. Spike had always had a distinctive signature, strong as Angel’s, yet just a shade different – somehow deeper, more resonant. Had to be because they’d spent his first days as a vampire in Spike’s company, learning from him. Sam had never read up on it, but he thought it might be a bit like imprinting – bonding with the first of your kind whether or not that first being was the one directly contributing to your makeup.

Staring up at the building, Lawson wondered why he was taking this huge risk.

It was the only hope he had anymore.


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


Tara found herself sneaking glances at Willow all day, finding herself falling in love all over again. Everything had been so tumultuous over the past, well, couple of years, she wasn’t sure if her emotions were because of Willow or the introduction she’d had into what constituted reality in Sunnydale. But now, with Willow by her side and nothing pressing, no apocalypse looming on the horizon, no big bad to worry about, no demons or vampires to fight, no mourning – just her, Tara was realizing it was Willow, and only Willow that had stolen her heart.

Not that being part of the scoobies wasn’t a rush in itself, because it very much was. It was just being with Willow made everything sharper, more real, more. . . . intense. She loved Willow, with everything she had, with everything she was. . . and somehow she knew, Willow loved her the same way.


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


Foregoing his usual behavior, Jenner decided he was going to walk the boundaries of his new temporary territory. There’d been no word from Angelus, which Jenner took as a sign of his inability to focus on – or clear up his priorities. Only two days in this town and he was already regretting his decision to leave Plymouth. Mentally tallying up his information, weighing it against what he knew of the slayer’s situaton, Jenner decided he would give it a full seven days, before he headed back for England.

No amount of revenge was worth it.

With Hawkins and the rest of his people trailing behind him, Jenner headed out, looking for a decent meal.


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


Spike had forgotten to bring food for Buffy, though he and Kirsten remembered to bring bottles and formula for Connor. For the first few moments after Kirsten’s disappearance, neither one had spoken, unsure of what to say. Something Kirsten said about her and Dawn and Connor being different because they were hybrids echoed in Buffy’s head and she tried several times to bring it up to Spike, but every time she opened her mouth, no words would come.

It wasn’t until her belly started rumbling that Spike stirred, moving from his position beside Dawn. The second time a loud grumble from her sounded, Spike was halfway to the door, asking her what she wanted to eat.

So now she was all alone again, with just the two children and her thoughts. Which she really didn’t want to be. Thinking. Only badness comes from thinking. If not for the rumbling in her belly, Buffy’s mind would have been numb. Connor was happily gurgling in his chair, his chubby little hands wrapped around a chew toy he kept trying to get into his mouth. He was blissfully unaware of the stress and tension surrounding the adults, happy just to be near those he considered family.

There was a noise out in the hallway and the door creaked partially open. A tall dark haired man stepped inside the room as the tingles signaling vampire started. Buffy got to her feet, her eyes scanning the room, looking for a weapon; and angling herself to protect the other two.

The good looking vampire straightened to his full height, his hands outstretched almost in surrender. “Hi. Ah. . . is William. . . Spike here?”

Buffy took a step closer, pushing him back toward the door. “No. What do you want with him?”

He was trying to stay calm, moving very slowly, keeping his movements to a bare minimum. The last thing he wanted to do was incite the Slayer. Who was, at the moment, eyeing him rather suspiciously.

He was trapped now, just beside the door.

“Gonna answer me?” She watched him closely, trying to figure out what this vampire wanted.

The door flung open again and Spike strode in, hands full of snacks and drinks. “Got some fruity yogurt an’ some. . . . “

Spike took in the scene next to him, his eyes drawn immediately to the sight of Buffy facing down an unknown . . . . “Lawson?”

He moved slowly past the Slayer, looking for a place to put down his loot. Dumping everything on the table next to Dawn’s bed, Spike turned around to face the other two.

“Hello chief.” Lawson didn’t move from his spot, or lower his hands; nor did he take his eyes from Buffy’s face.




Please, I could use a good word about now. . . . so please leave a review.