[A/N: I’m going to be cautiously optimistic for the writer’s block here. *crosses eyes and fingers* Hopefully everything will start flowing again. Title is from Rudyard Kipling and contained herein and the quotes are as attributed. Disclaimers in full force and effect.]

Previously: Jenner has agreed to Spike’s request for him and his people to remain neutral. Drusilla is still in the throes of madness, while Angel is frustrated by the lack of support from the remaining Aurelians. Lawson has submitted and acknowledged Spike as his Sire. This picks up shortly after the last installment.

Book Two. Chapter Fifty-seven. Hymn Before Action

You've never lived until you've almost died,
for those who fought for it,
life has a flavor the protected will never know.
Anonymous, from Viet Nam, 1968

The earth is full of anger,
The seas are dark with wrath,
The Nations in their harness
Go up against our path:
Ere yet we loose the legions --
Ere yet we draw the blade,
Jehovah of the Thunders,
Lord God of Battles, aid!

High lust and froward bearing,
Proud heart, rebellious brow --
Deaf ear and soul uncaring,
We seek Thy mercy now!
The sinner that forswore Thee,
The fool that passed Thee by,
Our times are known before Thee --
Lord, grant us strength to die!

For those who kneel beside us
At altars not Thine own,
Who lack the lights that guide us,
Lord, let their faith atone!
If wrong we did to call them,
By honour bound they came;
Let not Thy Wrath befall them,
But deal to us the blame.

From panic, pride, and terror
Revenge that knows no rein --
Light haste and lawless error,
Protect us yet again,
Cloke Thou our undeserving,
Make firm the shuddering breath,
In silence and unswerving
To taste Thy lesser death.

Ah, Mary pierced with sorrow,
Remember, reach and save
The soul that comes to-morrow
Before the God that gave!
Since each was born of woman,
For each at utter need --
True comrade and true foeman --
Madonna, intercede!

E'en now their vanguard gathers,
E'en now we face the fray --
As Thou didst help our fathers,
Help Thou our host to-day.
Fulfilled of signs and wonders,
In life, in death made clear --
Jehovah of the Thunders,
Lord God of Battles, hear!
Rudyard Kipling, Hymn Before Action



The television was on, the sound down very low and the rest of the house was dark when the DeSoto slid into the driveway. Well past the midnight hour, the time was actually still far enough from daylight that Spike thought about doing a quick patrol before climbing into bed. He turned to Buffy and, catching both the look on her face and the dark shadows under her eyes, immediately thought better.

Hopefully won’t have to worry about it much longer.

“C’mon love, let’s get you to bed.”

Buffy dropped her head back onto the seat rest, facing him with a sigh. “Feels like I haven’t slept in weeks.”

“Know what you mean.” He got out of the car, prepared to go around to her side, when Buffy surprised him by sliding across the seat to follow after him. His arm curled around her as he kicked the heavy car door shut. “Looks like demon-girl an’ the whelp are still here.”

“Ahuh. Hopefully they’ll be asleep on the couch.”

Spike snorted, relenting a bit when she pinched his side. “Don’t care, so long as neither of them keeps you awake. An’ if one of them tends to the sprog come the mornin’, well that’ll be a bit of all right.”

As it was, when they slipped inside the doorway, Tara was on her way up the stairs with a sleeping Connor in her arms. Exchanging whispered hellos, the blond witch added, “There’s ice cream and waffles.”

Buffy whispered a soft yippee, making a beeline for the kitchen, while Spike turned back to secure the locks. On his way into the kitchen, he passed through the living room, turning off the television and snagging some gingerbread from the Christmas tree. Anya and Xander, as predicted, were both asleep on the couch, though they weren’t by any stretch of the imagination snuggled together.

He stopped in the doorway, watching Buffy happily stuff herself with warm waffles smothered in jelly and spoonfuls of Ben & Jerry’s. She was almost grunting with happiness, the smile reaching her eyes, chasing away some of the shadows. With her mouth chewing away, she waved the spoon at him. She couldn’t say anything though, and he didn’t bother trying to hold back his chuckle.

“Don’t laugh at me,” Buffy finally spluttered out. “I’m hungry and there’s no roller coaster in my belly stopping me from eating.”

“You’re adorable though. Look right cute with your cheeks all full of food.” He sauntered into the kitchen, his fingers snagging the spoon from her. Digging the utensil in, Spike fed her more ice cream. “I’m glad you’re eatin’. Need to do more of it.”

“This is the first time in days I’ve really wanted too.” A tiny bit of a whine crept into her tone, but Spike ignored it. He figured she was entitled to a bit of indulgence, because everything had been decidedly bad since Christmas. Letting her eat in silence, Spike concentrated on giving her what she needed. Long before he thought she should, Buffy pushed away from the counter. She leaned against his chest, drawing one of his hands around to rest on her belly.

“Ummmm. Comfy now.” Her fingers meshed with his and she sighed.

The kitchen was silent, then as Spike felt her body relax against his, he said softly, “C’mon kitten, into bed with you.”

He made quick work of putting the food away and piling the dishes in the sink, while Buffy leaned against the wall, sleepily watching him.

Tara padded into the kitchen on bare feet, her quiet voice barely disturbing the silence. “Leave it Spike, I’ll get it in the morning. You guys go ahead.”

With a smile and a nod, Spike caught Buffy around the waist, guiding her down the hallway.

“G’night Glinda.”

“Night.”

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


By some unspoken agreement, Faith had followed the two former watchers to Giles’ car, then trailed behind them into the apartment they were currently sharing.

She was tired – and even more than that, she was beyond confused and overloaded with too much information.

All the crazy Slayer dreams she’d been having hadn’t prepared her for the reality of what had been transpiring in Sunnydale. A whole lotta weird shit has been going down.

The least weird thing was Buffy and Spike. The baby thing was trippy, but them as a couple? Not so much. Even before the dreams had indicated something was brewing between them, Faith knew it was possible. Spike’s reaction when she’d hijacked Buffy’s body had been very revealing. If there was one thing Faith knew, it was when a man was interested.

Angel having a kid was weird. She’d only seen the baby once, so she had no way of knowing if it even looked like him. Losing the soul because of the kid – that was harsh.

She had a feeling though, there were still parts of the story she was missing. Like why Buffy wasn’t wigged about being knocked up by a vamp – and why Angel was all damage bound on Cordelia.

And Willow.

All that talk about Willow power-tripping on magic and playing god – something had happened there Faith hadn’t ever seen coming. What had her seriously worried was the way both Giles and Wesley had reacted to her questions about Willow.

There wasn’t much that scared Faith, but the way those two had reacted made her belly flip. Yeah, she was a Slayer, but she’d been out of commission one way or another for the past three years. She was rusty, and maybe not ready for the conflicts that were coming to a head. There was only so much training she could do; training could only help you so much. Actual slaying time was an altogether different thing. Really battling for your life against demons that could actually hurt you was far different from prison skirmishes where she always had the advantage. She’d never really been exposed to much – especially magic stuff.

But mousy, scaredy, geeky little Willow becoming all Wicked Witch of the West?

She was having trouble wrapping her head around Willow changing that much.

Waiting patiently while Giles got sheets and blankets for her to sleep on, Faith decided she would just trust everyone else’s intuition about Willow. She didn’t have much choice otherwise.

At least until she saw what had become of Willow with her own two eyes.

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

Lawson had spent years staying away and apart from his fellow vampires, perfecting the art of disappearing into the woodwork. He used that skill now, avoiding detection by Angel’s minions and slipping easily past lax guards into the mansion.

His room was empty, devoid of any presence or traces of any presence, which he took as a positive sign. Angel didn’t suspect anything from him, which left him free to operate, able to follow Spike’s instructions to the letter. Breathing a sigh of relief, Sam settled down onto his bed after locking the door behind him, and propping a chair underneath the knob, just in case.

Contemplating the ceiling, Sam felt the Sire’s blood working through his body, invigorating him in more than just his cells. Every part of him felt awash in some unnameable, indescribable emotion. He felt as though he could almost reach out and touch the connection he and Spike had forged between them. It was very nearly a physical presence in bed beside him and through it, he could feel Spike’s connection to Buffy.

Initially Sam had believed their relationship rested almost solely in the physical. He could understand their mutual attraction – both were very attractive, sexual beings. And yet, since watching them, Sam had come to realize the physical aspect was just a little part of the whole. Discovering the pair was mated caused him no end of confusion.

She was the Slayer – chosen to protect humanity from the darkness Spike represented. What kind of . . . She had to have accepted there were varying degrees of evil, of darkness. Accepted moral ambiguities others had trouble processing or even admitting existed.

He long since came to terms with his own skewed moral compass. On his own, using Spike’s brief guidance, Sam had decided who became his victims. While he had to agree with Spike about the blood of teenaged girls, Sam generally avoided them. Preying on young girls brought unwanted attention – of the sort a lone vampire couldn’t afford. The only time he’d ever had another vampire watching his back had been those first days with Spike. So he’d learned very quickly how to hunt prudently, preying mainly on those who wouldn’t be missed. Stealing old blood from hospitals wasn’t new to him either – he’d done it more than once, when he’d gone too long between feedings.

What he also didn’t understand quite so clearly was Spike’s continual dance with danger. Sam had quickly learned Spike pushed the limits – with daylight, with fire, with anything and everything that could possibly destroy him. He’d watched while Spike had, with relative calmness, walked outside during daylight, deliberately ingested garlic and any other number of foolhardy and reckless things – all the while smiling with glee. His Sire, and how that thought pleased him, lived his unlife on a precarious tightrope – embracing every new challenge, never once backing down.

Reckless abandon. Unholy glee – daring to live each moment to its utmost. Sam realized Spike had made more of his unlife than some people ever made of their lives.

A deep sigh broke unnecessarily from his mouth, then a wide grin split his features. Just maybe, Spike would be able to teach him how to do the same.

Sam stripped down to his skivvies, warmed by Sire’s blood and the connection between them flared as he reflected on Spike’s bite and ruefully noted the effects of it on his cock. He was hard and aching, yet completely unembarrassed by his reaction. Spike had to have known what kind of an effect this would cause, and was no doubt acting on it. Grabbing his cock in his right hand, Sam resettled himself on the bed and arched his tight fist. His mind wandered to images better left unsaid and he breathed heavily through his mouth, knowing he wasn’t going to last very long.


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


Just as the sky was lightening, the bright rays of the morning sun streaking the eastern horizon with light, Angelus stalked back inside the mansion, his mood unaltered.

Growling an acknowledgment to his waiting minions, the hulking Irish vampire strode past, intent on gaining the peace and quiet of his own room. Unwilling to deal with his insane and currently incapacitated Childe, he bypassed the room holding Drusilla, looking instead for less troublesome company. The recent addition to his household would do nicely.

Angel paused outside one of the bedrooms, sniffing the air intently, trying to find out which bed the blond was sleeping in – and with whom. Catching her girlish perfume, Angel moved silently in that direction. Two doors away from the room where Lawson had barricaded himself, Angel pushed open the door and smiled at the scene greeting his eyes.

There she was, on her hands and knees, sucking cock while her pussy was being pounded from behind. The two males froze once they realized who was watching them, exchanging wary glances.

“Aren’t you the lucky girl. One night in my house and you’ve already made some new friends.” Angel’s sarcasm wasn’t hard to miss, and the two males slowly disengaged from the blond girl.

Wide, guileless blue eyes met Angel’s assessing glare, but the fledgling shrugged almost innocently. “Guess they just wanted to make sure I felt welcomed.”

“Oh, I’m sure they did, Harmony.” Angel stepped further into the room, letting his eyes linger on the naked bodies in front of him. “They just didn’t bother to check with me first.”

One of them tried to stutter out an apology, which made Angel smile. “Shut up.”

In the predatory way some females scent out and bait the strongest male, Harmony accurately assessed the master vampire’s interest in her. Languidly she dropped onto her back, exposing both breasts and shaven pussy to his view. Her reward was the spark of interest in murky brown eyes.

An answering gleam entered her own and Harmony pressed her advantage by running a pink tipped finger over her glistening folds up to her lips, then sucking on it.

Angel’s grin widened and he growled out, “Leave us.”

The two males scrambled out, giving him a wide berth, neither one daring to glance backward.

“You know Harmony,” Angel started speaking almost conversationally, “New females are supposed to service the master until he tires of them. . . . and doubly so when they’ve already betrayed him once.”

She preened in response, his last words not registering at all, and unaware of the incredible risk she was running, giggled softly. “But you were busy with Druidzilla. . . . And I got bored.”

Angel moved closer, his hand closing over the nearest breast. “And you still should have waited. Now I have to punish you.”

Harmony didn’t have the brains to be frightened, focusing only on the sexual aspects of his meaning. “Ahuh. Does that mean you’re gonna spank me?”


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


Someone had snuck in earlier, when Connor’s cries had been heard in the kitchen via Tara’s baby alarm system, leaving the two superpowered blonds sleeping. That was the only explanation Spike could think of, because the baby was nowhere in sight. He rolled over, his sleep disturbed by some noise from outside, then curled back around Buffy, who hadn’t even reacted.

Noises from downstairs were muffled, but he could still hear the low hum of the dishwasher running and soft female voices talking. His left hand curled around Buffy’s waist, fingers lightly brushing over her soft skin and Spike nuzzled in closer, his nose buried in the fall of her hair. He loved these moments, when everything was distant; the call of her responsibilities unimportant and it was just them. She spent so much of her waking time focused on those obligations that very little of their time together was spent just . . . . Relaxing and enjoying the moment. Fairly often, the only time they had to themselves was between the four walls of this room.

A chilly breeze swept through the open window, billowing the heavy curtains and snaking up over his bare shoulders. An involuntary shiver wracked his form, and in response he burrowed closer into her warmth, pulling the blanket up to cocoon them both. Her scent engulfed him, growing stronger as she unconsciously responded to his proximity. A low murmur sounded in her throat and he brushed back her hair, content to watch her while she continued to sleep.

Peace was something they had precious little of, given their lots in life, and he needed, especially now, to prolong the moments when they grasped a little bit of it. He didn’t fool himself into thinking they could buy much more than this time, knowing her as well as he did, once she was awake, Buffy was going to focus on what they needed to do to face the threats looming ahead of them. Right now, Angel was the priority. Once that was done they had to tackle the growing and seemingly difficult task of corralling Willow.

After that – well, he wasn’t going to think about that yet. Had to get through each day, each battle and then focus on the after. There was too much there – Connor, Dawn, and their own sprog’s appearance to fret over. Dawn was going to need more help than either of them could give her – and it was one of the conditions the doctors hadn’t budged on. She would be visiting a counselor weekly for the foreseeable future, whether she wanted too or not.

Thankfully, it was their choice whom she went to speak too, and the only requirement the authorities had laid on them was that the counselor had to be accredited by the State of California. Thankfully, they could rely on Tara to find someone who had an understanding of their world – and the necessary paperwork from the government.

Buffy shifted, rolling onto her side, nearly facing him and Spike stared down at her sleeping face. She was beautiful in repose, her golden skin lit from within and he found his fingers trailing over the small of her back, running over the dips, allowing the sensation of her warmth to invade him. He leaned down to brush a feathery kiss over her eyes, finding it impossible to stop touching her.

God woman, how beautiful you are . . . He inhaled deeply, letting the richness of her scent wash over him again and Spike curled even closer. Spike didn’t realize he’d spoken out loud until Buffy, her eyes still closed, whispered back his name while her fingers scratched across his chest.

“Didn’t mean to wake you.”

“I know.” She settled further onto her side, eyes barely opened, focused on the movement of his chest as he spoke. “It’s okay, I was just sort of drifting anyway.”

“Go back to drifting then.” Her eyes lifted, focusing on his lips and her warm fingers reached up to trace over them.

“Rather watch you.” Those lips moved, forming a soft smirk and Buffy smiled sleepily back at him.

“Would you now.” His hand trailed over her side, down along her hip, drawing idle sweeping patterns.

Buffy leaned into him further, her fingers exploring the hard muscles in his arm and down over his shoulder. “Yup. You’re a pretty man.”

Growling low in mock anger, he groused, “I’m not pretty, take that back.”

A soft giggle was his only answer. “You so are, and you know it. “

”Am not.” His hand thumped against her bare ass and she wiggled, teasing him more.

“You are. . . . It’s a good thing you have no reflection, because this way we don’t have to share the mirror.”

It took his sleep and Buffy drugged mind a moment to catch her meaning and when he did he gripped her hip, pulling her hard against him. “I’m no peacock, kitten.”

“Ahuh. You sure about that?” Her soft giggles kept overtaking her and she tried getting out a comment about him being just that, but she couldn’t find her voice. “You’re a vain man, William, so don’t play like you aren’t.”

A harrumphing noise escaped him, but before he could speak, Buffy kept on teasing him. “Look at those pretty eyes. . . . Those cheekbones. Face it Spike, you’re a pretty man and you strut and preen just like a peacock, showing off.”

There was laughter in her voice, happiness and he couldn’t remember the last time he’d heard something like that from her. Quite possibly it had been during the heady time of their engagement. Just because it was there, though, didn’t mean he was going to let her comment go unremarked.

Tucking his tongue against his teeth, Spike leered at her, his hand pulling her body closer to his. “If ‘m such a peacock, how come it takes me less time than you to get ready. . . . hhhmmm?”

“Two words, bleach boy.” She gazed at him, laughter sparking the colors of her eyes and her grin spreading widely. “No reflection.”

Laughter erupted from her at the look on his face and Buffy couldn’t contain herself any longer. He was all affronted and embarrassed at the same time and it was just beyond funny to her. Spike made some grumbling, grumpy noise in his throat that set her off even more and Buffy was having a hard time controlling herself. Finally the laughter wound down, after she wiped her eyes of the tears, Buffy found herself with a very pouty man on her hands. Leaning over him, Buffy took hold of his lower lip between her teeth, tugging on it gently.

He growled again, low in his throat, then, in a move faster than she could blink, Spike had her pinned beneath him, his legs curled over hers, locking her in place. “Who’s laughing now kitten?”

“Oohhhh, big old scary vampire.” She faked a shiver, her eyes twinkling up at him. “Whatcha gonna do, bite me?”

Spike shifted again, settling his hips between hers. “No. Gonna do something better.”

“What’s that?” Buffy tilted her pelvis, capturing his erection between her folds. She arched against him and his hand clamped around her hip, holding her tight.

His voice, low and deep, reverberated through her, and Buffy flexed around him. “Gonna ravish you. Gonna make you scream my name.”

“Mmmmm. How you gonna do that?” He moved and his cock slid easily through her slickened walls. Spike grinned down at her when unintelligible noises escaped her.

“Just like that baby.”

His thrusts were slow and languid, almost lazy and still they had the power to render her to mush. It didn’t take long before she was crying out his name, her orgasm washing over her. Deep, drugging kisses covered her cries and Spike exploded within her. He rolled over onto his back, cuddling her close. Her breathing slowed, her heart rate returned to normal and Buffy slipped easily once more into sleep, Spike not far behind her.


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


Sam waited until he couldn’t hear anyone else moving around, not even the minions guarding the doors. On quiet feet he slipped silently from his room down the stairs to the boiler room.

Working quickly, he rigged a homemade, untraceable bomb, using the pilot lights for the oil burner and hot water heaters, triggered for when the hot water heater ignited.

He stepped back, eyeing his handiwork, then, satisfied it was virtually undetectable to the untrained eye, he headed back to his room.

Grabbing his meager belongings, Sam Lawson slipped out the shaded side entrance, racing for the nearest sewer grate.

Daring a glance backward, Sam fought a laugh.

Two hours until sundown.

And counting.





And so it begins. . . . Please be kind, leave a review.