[A/N: Since before the holidays, every word has been a struggle. While I got a bit of rest and some writing done over the Thanksgiving holiday, for the most part the chapters have been like pulling teeth. There were entire days when I didn’t edit a damn thing, much less write it. I almost wish I could blame a beta, but I don’t use one. *sighs* Quotes and title are from. . . . and the disclaimers are always in full force and effect. Enjoy].

Previously: The spell has been broken and everyone’s memories have returned. Cordelia is waking up, and Dawn’s still unconscious. This picks up immediately following the last installment.

Book Two. Chapter 52. End of happiness

It is an unfortunate fact that we can
secure peace only by preparing for war.
John Fitzgerald Kennedy, September 6, 1960

The best strategy in life is diligence.
Chinese proverb.

It is a curious sensation:
the sort of pain that goes
mercifully beyond our powers of feeling.
When your heart is broken,
your boats are burned:
nothing matters any more.
It is the end of happiness
and the beginning of peace.
George Bernard Shaw, Ellie, in Heartbreak House, act 2.

As an egg, when broken, never
Can be mended, but must ever
Be the same crushed egg for ever
—So shall this dark heart of mine!
Thomas Holley Chivers, To Allegra Florence in Heaven.




Giles studiously ignored it when Faith left his side to approach the spot where Spike was conversing with the other vampires. Herding Tara toward the monstrous vehicle Wesley indicated, Giles forced himself to keep his eyes, and his ears, averted.

He wanted not to know what Spike’s smirk had implied regarding Faith and one of the other vampires, but knew that was futile.

Once they were all inside, the driver, obviously one of Wesley’s co-workers, turned around to face them. “Where to English?”

Sharing a look with Wesley, Giles said, “make a left at the next corner.”

Might be easier to have all of them at the Magic Shop, but Giles wasn’t going to be sleeping on anyone’s cement floor.


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


“Blondie. Hold up a minute.” Faith grabbed Spike’s arm, pulling him to a stop. “What the hell was that all about?”

His agitation was growing the longer he was apart from Buffy, worry about Dawn filling his head and Faith stopping him put a sharp edge on his temper. “Look. Got lots . . . “ He paused visibly, trying to get his temper under control. “Listen, coz, ‘m only sayin’ this once. Dawn’s back in hospital, in a bad way. Docs won’t let her go until at least mornin’.”

“How bad is it?”

“Bad enough.” Testing the waters, Spike sent a thought through the claim, and when his answer came back, he changed the subject. “It’s safer for everyone to be at the shop. Safer for me come daybreak. Can still get there through the tunnels. Jenner’s not stupid, he’s gonna have people watchin’ you – if he’s not doin’ it himself. ‘d feel better knowin’ he’s not camped outside m’house.”

“Your house?”

“Yeah, Rogue. My house.” Inhaling deeply, he continued. “It’s up to you to keep the rest of them safe. Least until we can help. Angelus isn’t gonna sit around much longer. Been waiting nearly two months as it is. An’ Red’s completely round the bend.”

Thinking for a minute, Spike shifted his attention to the other vampire. “Lawson. Think you can spy on the git?”

“Yeah chief, I’ve still got a room in the mansion.” Unsure of where Spike was going with this, Lawson waited patiently.

“Good. Do that. Meet me at hospital at sundown.” Turning to Faith he said, “stay at the shop with the others tonight. Two of us’ll be there soon as we can in the mornin’.”

Faith started to argue, but the look on Spike’s face changed her mind. With a swish of her hips and a look around, she stalked off in the direction of the shop.

“Keep him away from Red.” Spike walked away, but Lawson’s question stopped him in his tracks.

“Who?”

“Willow Rosenberg. Redheaded witch from earlier. The one the hounds were circlin’.”

And then he too was gone, leaving Lawson alone in the middle of the street.


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


He’d sent Toussaint and Rebecca out, giving them Willow’s address and telling them to grab her the second she so much as poked her head outside a door.

Ray and three others were watching Buffy’s place, while another one was camped outside the apartment of Rupert Giles.

Angel was currently trying to get Drusilla calmed down, which was proving difficult at best.

His night had started out much the same as the others, waking to find the minions waiting for him and his orders. Before he’d even really had time to rub the sleep from his eyes and shower, Drusilla was shrieking high-pitched warnings, most of them incomprehensible gibberish.

She’d ripped her dress, and his shirt, to tatters, sharp nails scoring the exposed skin. He’d wrapped his big arms around her, in a futile effort to ward off her claws, only to find himself struggling to fight off her fangs.

“Nasty bitch. . . . Bright lights. . . . swirly twirly . . . bad Daddies. . . . Goodbye songs for baby girls . . . “

Her fangs grazed his cheek, catching the edge of his chin and he groaned as she rent his skin, drawing the heady scent of his blood to the air.

“Drusilla!” Roaring his disapproval, Angel freed one hand, slapping her hard, dislodging her teeth.

Hands flailing, she caught him again, clawing open his shoulder.

“Wicked little girls wailing away. . . . Rabid dogs circling. . . . Howling. . . . Embers burning bright. . . . Power pulsing in the night. All wrong. All wrong.”

She laughed, the eerie sound ending in an agonized wail of pain as he punched her hard, breaking her jaw’s hold on him.

“Can’t caterwaul now, can you?” He stood over her crouched form, his eyes staring down at the top of her head.

Drusilla launched herself up from the floor, an unearthly keening sound emerging from her gaping mouth, claws at the ready. The pain he’d inflicted just goaded her, intensifying her rage and confusion. Her ramblings descended into incoherent sounds, nothing more discernable than a constant, quavering wail.

Angel fought her off, trying to get a hold on her, when suddenly she batted at his head, hard enough to snap his head back. Viper quick, her fangs were lodged in his throat, his blood sliding down, nourishing her and healing the self-inflicted wounds.

Groaning into thin air, Angel’s tight hold on her loosened, his big hands cupping her to him gently.

He dropped down onto the couch behind him, crooning tunelessly to his frantic childe.


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


Crouched low on the landing, Oz watched the front door swing open, prepared to jump down the steps and attack if it proved necessary.

As it was he was down the stairs before she cleared the threshold, the smell of her tears and distress calling to him.

“Oz?” Her voice was rich with emotion and he stared at her face, waiting for her to make the first move. “O. . Oz?”

Tara crumpled then, moving toward him, her arms encircling him in a tight hug. Her head rested on his shoulder and he moved her slowly toward the living room, listening to her quiet sobs.

He was aware of others trooping in behind her, but beyond identifying them by smell, Oz ignored them all.

Giles was giving low voiced directions, instructing the two unknowns to get supplies from the kitchen. He heard footsteps retreating, one set on the stairs, then hesitate and return to the living room.

“She’s . . . She was with Willow, apparently, when the spell was broken. By all indications. . . . It seems this was all Willow’s handiwork.” Giles hesitated more, afraid of both their reactions, knowing both had loved Willow.

By answer, Oz hugged Tara closer, brushed a gentle kiss over her temple, then got to his feet. Drawing Giles over to the desk, he searched for pen and paper. Scribbling something down, Oz showed the paper to Giles.

“No. We weren’t there. The hounds had been following Willow evidently and one of them led us to where the girls were. When we got there, they were arguing.”

He peered over Oz’ shoulder watching his questions appear.

“Faith killed it.”

“Yes I know. She’s had Slayer dreams alerting her to the situation. She escaped from jail and arrived here last night.”

“What?”

Without waiting for further information, Giles called out for Wesley and headed directly up the stairs.


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


Her eyes were closed, the room illuminated only by a soft light emanating from a lamp over the bed where the teenager and the baby were sleeping. She shifted when the door swung open, tensing a bit, eyes focused blearily on the door.

Buffy started to uncurl herself from the chair, when Spike’s form slipped inside the open door.

“Hey kitten.”

She was in his arms before he was fully inside the room, her head on his shoulder. “Everything okay?”

“For now.” Dropping a kiss on her forehead he walked them toward the gurney. “How’re they doin’?”

“Baby’s fine. Dawnie’s still not awake.” Buffy smoothed the blanket over the sleeping pair.

“No change at all?” Spike was concerned, thinking perhaps this was going on too long.

“She was moving around earlier, but she’s calmed down a bit now. The doctor was in here before and he said everything looked good.” She shrugged. “Dunno what that means.”

The fatigue she was feeling reached him and Spike shifted his focus. “You get any sleep?”

“No.”

There was another bed folded up in the corner and Spike moved toward it, speaking as he did. “Think you can try now?”

“Tell me what happened and I’ll think about it.”

Shaking his head, Spike countered her. “How ‘bout you get all comfy like an’ then ‘ll tell you.”

They faced each other across the room, both faces resolute. She really hated when he got concerned and caring. It was very hard for her to accept that from anyone, even him. “Spike, I’m strong. I can stay up a bit longer.”

“That you are, love, but alls ‘m asking is you listen while you’re laying down.”

“I wanna be wide awake for this.” Buffy’s back stiffened and her arms folded over her chest.

“Kitten. It’s been a rough couple of days. . . . an’ that baby is drainin’ you too.” He motioned toward the unfolded bed. “C’mon sweets, I wanna hold you for a bit anyway.”

His look was full of sincere concern, and she caved, unable to resist. He was the only one she wasn’t able to fight off, especially when he had that look on his face. Addressing the room at large, Buffy exclaimed, “How am I supposed to resist that? How?“

His grin morphed into a leer, the twinkle in his eyes sending a shiver up her spine that owed everything to just his presence. Buffy met his grin and with a small shake of her head, she indicated for him to settle in. Making a big production of taking off his duster, shaking it out and grabbing the extra pillows from the cabinet, Spike sunk down on the small bed, his arms reaching for her. Buffy moved in, kicking off her sneakers without bothering to untie them. They were cramped for space, the bed being no bigger than a gurney, and there were a few moments while they adjusted themselves and got comfortable, but they managed.

Fairly soon they were wrapped around each other. Spike was sitting up against the wall, Buffy within the circle of his arms. His low voice filled the room, telling her everything that had happened, how Tara had collapsed after Willow’s disappearance. He told her what he’d asked Lawson to do, and then, with a certain amount of glee, he told her about Faith and Jenner. He kept on talking, even after Buffy’s breathing and heartbeat indicated she’d fallen into sleep.


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


Taking the stairs two at a time, with Wesley practically at his heels, Giles headed straight for the hallway bathroom.

It was just as Oz described, congealed blood in the drain, medicine cabinet open, first aid kit broken, bandages and a tourniquet on the floor.

“Bloody hell.”

Wesley angled past him, heading for the tub. On his knees, the younger man reached down and stuck a finger in the mess, bringing it to his nose. “Smells human.”

A dread began seeping into his heart – Spike had said Dawn was back in hospital – though he’d never said why. Reaching for his cell phone, Giles punched in the number for the hospital. With a wary eye on his counterpart, Giles motioned him to silence.

“My name is Rupert Giles. I’m inquiring about a possible patient, Dawn Summers.”

There was a pause, then, “yes.”

“Er. . . . Right.” Giles wracked his brain while he waited to be connected to the proper department. He went through the information again, once the connection was complete, his mind racing. Wesley had gotten to his feet, eyes locked on Giles’ face. He knew a second after Giles had gotten his confirmation. The older man flipped closed his phone, grim features giving weight to his words.

“She is there. She’s going to be moved as soon as a room becomes available.”

“Did they say why they want to admit her?” Wesley’s voice was full of concern.

“No. They can’t give that kind of information over the phone.”

“Will you go?” Wesley was staring down at the tub, his expression hidden from the older man.

“Perhaps later. Right now I think Spike’s right and we should get everyone over to the Magic Box.”

“Right. I’ll clean up in here.” Wesley turned on the taps, searching for cleaning supplies.

Not giving any further thought to Wesley’s reaction, Giles headed for the hall closet.


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


Anya was just locking the door, preparing to unfurl the roll-down gates, when the ringing of the telephone startled her. Stifling an eep of surprise, she hurried to answer before the machine picked up.

“Thank you for calling the Magic Box, foremost supplier of magical and occult supplies on the West Coast. How may I help you?” The words came out in a rush, with hardly time for a breath between and no time at all for the caller to interrupt.

“Anya, it’s Giles.”

“You killed that demon.”

“Technically Faith did.”

“You know what I mean.”

“I do.” There was a pause, and Giles fought the urge to banter with her. “Don’t leave the shop. We’re on our way back. Do you . . . . Is there anything you need from your flat?”

“Why? What’s going on?” Her voice started to rise and Anya began to speak again when Rupert cut her off.

“Anya. There’s too much to go over, suffice to say we’re all staying in the shop tonight.”

It took her a moment to digest that, but once she had, Anya didn’t waste any time issuing her instructions. “There’s only a couple of things in the small refrigerator so we’ll need something to eat. I have some clothes in the cellar, near Tara’s room, in a box marked with my name.” She paused again for another breath. “Don’t forget the air mattresses and blankets. Too bad we don’t have a shower here, but I suppose we’ll be able to go home at first light?”

“More than likely.”

“All right then. I’ll lock up until you get here.”

“Very good.” Rupert paused, then said very softly, “Do be careful.”

She smiled, responding to his tone of voice. “Don’t get killed.”

An unwilling laugh gurgled out of him and Giles barely managed to gasp out a goodbye before the line was disconnected.

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


Faith thought about ignoring Spike’s request, just because she wasn’t happy with taking orders from someone else, but halfway to the Bronze she stopped. What the hell am I doing this again for? Tried this shit already and it got me nowhere but jail. Don’t’ really wanna be making these same damn mistakes over and over again.

Huffing out a deep sigh, Faith longingly eyed the streets leading to the Bronze. Still got a job to do. So. . . .

Shaking herself, she changed direction, heading for the Shady Rest cemetery, and, eventually, the Magic Box.

She’d only gone a half dozen feet when a shiver of awareness shot through her, chasing itself up and down her spine. Without looking around, her eyes on the street ahead of her, Faith said, “Might as well come out. I can feel you, so it’s not like you’re gonna surprise me or anything.”

“Perhaps I just like watching you.” Wry amusement colored his words and Faith retorted with an inelegant snort.

“Sure you do.”

“Oh, but I do, Slayer.”

There was no amusement lacing his words and the shiver of awareness shot higher.

Faith turned around, hoping to catch a glimpse of him, but nowhere in the darkness could she find his figure.

Jenner watched her scanning about for him, feral hunger weighed heavily with lust clear on his countenance. The rich musky scent of her sang to his senses, his body wanting hers with a ferocity he hadn’t felt in years.

Hawkins shifted next to him, warily eyeing his sire’s reactions to the Slayer.


“You wanna watch me so badly, come on outta the shadows.”

A low dark chuckle filled the night air and Jenner threw his head back, allowing the laughter to consume him.

“When you’re ready Slayer, I’ll step out of the darkness. But until then, I’ll watch from where I am.”

He moved away then, the only signal to Hawkins a tug on the arm.

Before Faith realized it, both vampires had slunk back, out of her sensory range.



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


He shifted, listening to the noises of the hospital settle down, his senses focusing on the occupants of the room. Spike brushed a lock of hair away from Buffy’s face, his touch barely ghosting over her skin.

Lines of stress and fatigue bracketed her mouth, a tiny line creasing her brow. She’d been asleep for just about an hour, and still she wasn’t relaxed. Maybe, when this situation was behind them, they could talk Faith into sticking around for a little while – just until the baby was born. Anything to give them a break.

Connor moved, shifting against Dawn, and Spike watched as a little leg slipped between the rails, hanging off the edge of the gurney.

He’d never imagined, even in his earlier incarnation, he’d be in this situation. In the course of a few months, really since Joyce’s untimely passing, his life had undergone enormous sea changes. Somewhere along the way, he’d gotten his heart’s desire and acquired an instant family. The Summers girls were a package deal – though at the time they hadn’t understood exactly how much of a package – or what kind. And then to top it off, he was now the surrogate father for Angel’s son. Not once in his overly long existence would he have ever expected that.

The baby shifted again, and Spike glanced over at the clock, realizing the sprog was gearing up to howl for his middle of the night feeding. Moving Buffy off his shoulder, Spike got to Connor before he could disturb either of the girls. Digging through the backpack Kirsten had packed earlier, Spike found the formula and bottles. Shoving the bottle into his back pocket, Spike grabbed baby and formula and left the room in search of a way to heat the bottle.


I am so sorry this has taken so long to get out. I hope you are all still with me. . . . and accept my apology on the break between updates. The next installment won't be so long away. I promise.