[A/N: With Campfires finished, that brings my WIPs down to five, not including the original fiction I’ve started working on again. So yeah, I’m something of a busy character these days. Hopefully something else will reach a conclusion. I’ve sort of taken a very informal poll on my livejournal, and I’m going to ask you all if there’s an interest in a third book of Origins. So please, if you are interested, just leave me a little note and let me know. I appreciate it. My thanks to all of you that are still with me, still reading and leaving reviews. Every single one of them makes my day. Slainte, one and all. Title and quotes are as attributed. Disclaimers in full force and effect. I own nothing.]

Previously: Buffy has left the Otherworld, after receiving blessings and information from Arianrhod and Ceridwen. Willow’s been stripped of her powers. Spike and Lawson are nearing the end of their quest. And surprising themselves, Faith and Dawn have bonded. This picks up immediately following the last installment.

Book Two. Chapter Seventy-five. To protect someone precious

This bridge is the place we fight to connect our dreams.
Me, for the sake of my dream, and you, for the sake of your dreams.
Please don't hate me.
I want to protect someone precious to me...
To work for that person's sake,
to fight for that person's sake, to make that person's dreams come true.
Naruto, season 1, episode 14

A sister can be seen as someone who is both ourselves
and very much not ourselves - a special kind of double.
Toni Morrison

Sisters we are, yea, twins we be,
Yet deadly feud ‘twixt thee and me;
For from one father are we not,
Anne Bradstreet, The Flesh and the Spirit




Unlike the last bridge, this one was a narrow, rocky natural bridge, climbing higher and higher until they were nearly climbing another cliff. Spike grumbled, cursing the trail the higher it got. He was beginning to think it wasn’t a bridge at all when the rocks leveled off to a craggy outcropping. Barely a dozen paces away, opposite where Spike was standing, was the beginnings of a rope bridge.

The hounds flopped down, tongues hanging, panting heavily from the strenuous climb. Lawson struggled to his feet behind Spike, who merely shook his head in disbelief.

“Chief?”

“I don’ fuckin’ believe this.” When Lawson gazed at him in confusion, Spike pointed toward the ropes. “We’re supposed to cross that.”

“What?” Lawson gaped at the rickety bridge, warily edging closer. The far end of the bridge wasn’t visible, the ropes disappearing into the heavy mist thirty paces or so from their end of it. “Chief. . . “

“Yeah. ‘M not happy ‘bout this at all.” He made a face, heaving a ponderous sigh. “Might as well get to it.”

Whistling for the hounds, Spike reluctantly took the first step on the wooden slats holding the ropes together.

He was really tired of high places.


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


The two brunettes stepped away from each other, both wiping away tears. Neither one of them spoke for long minutes, thoughts neither were ready to share swirling in their heads.

Dawn slumped against the center island, unable to get her limbs coordinated enough to sit down. A groan escaped her and she muttered half to herself, “Feel like I’ve been steamrolled and dropped head first into a pit.”

“Probably same pit I’ve seen.” Faith opened the refrigerator, extracting milk and juice. Brandishing both at Dawn, she quipped, “Pick your poison.”

Her answer came as she snagged another cookie. “Gimme milk.”

Slapping down the carton on her way past Dawn, Faith chugged the juice straight from the container. Back before Dawn had a chance to pour, she dropped a small white pill on the counter.

Dawn gaped at it, hands frozen around the milk carton. “Faith, you know I can’t.”

“And you aren’t. I am.” Brusquely pouring the milk into a glass, Faith continued, “Look, Tylenol ain’t cutting it. You need something a little stronger. So take it. It’s the only time I’m gonna offer ‘til big sis gets back.”

Faith slid the full glass over to Dawn. “Your call.”

She stared at the pill for so long, Faith thought she was going to have to force her to take it. As Dawn was finally about to swallow it, she asked, “Why?”

Faith fixed her dark eyes on Dawn, her wide mouth set in firm lines, flattening her dimples. Her voice was soft, unexpected affection warming her words. “Lots of reasons, squirt. Mostly because you need it.”

It was enough of an answer for Dawn.

The small white pill slipped easily between her lips chased by the cold milk.

Without any other words between them, Faith helped Dawn into the living room, settling her back on the couch.

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


Using his considerable strength, Jenner finally pulled apart the clothes binding him to the bed. Faith had left him almost two hours earlier, and daylight was beginning to streak the night sky when he crossed the threshold of the small hotel he and his minions had commandeered. Inhaling deeply, Jenner fought the other smells assaulting his nose, searching for a hint of the aroused and frightened Slayer. Faith had been scared, he could see it clearly in her eyes, had felt it trembling along the lines of her muscles, the hitch in her breathing. It wasn’t because she was afraid of dying. She was afraid of living. Living with the knowledge that he’d stolen something from her.

And he was damned certain it wasn’t her innocence.

Faith had the look and taste of a woman who’d said and done things because she wanted to make an impression – to be remembered. To stand out in some small way. Which, to his mind, was a bit ridiculous. The girl was a Slayer and therefore destined to be unforgettable.

But it was something else, some other emptiness inside of her that drove her to outrageous behavior. Sex with her was just another way to hide, another blockade to surmount. Faith was hiding some part of her, some fragile, wary, scared part of her that both craved and decried the need for contact. For being needed. For being seen.

That was why she always needed to be in control.

There was no middle ground with a woman like Faith. Love wasn’t an issue and neither was sex. For Faith, the issue was trust.

Jenner had pushed her past her limits, removing all control from her hands, staking his claim on her without fangs. He’d pushed and pushed until she had no choice but to cave. Which explained her inability to stake him. It also explained why she was drawn to him.

Sunlight bloomed over the tops of the buildings, driving him back inside the hotel. Growling for Hawkins, Jenner faced the second disappointment of the day. When Paulie appeared, stuttering and anxious, hands clenched nervously in front of him, Jenner knew whatever he was about to say wasn’t going to change his mood for the better.

“He’s gone. Taken the sloop and headed for . . . I’m not really sure where.” The small vampire cringed, ducking the blow he was certain to receive. To his surprise, it never came.

“Fuck.” Jenner’s tone was bereft of emotion, exhaustion finally stealing through him. He should have expected Hawkins to leave, had known that he would take the first opportunity and go. Glynnis had been his companion for nearly fifty years – not something one just forgot. Her loss had hit him hard, and compounded by the unexpectedness of it, no doubt he was fuming at his sire.

Waving Paulie away, Jenner dropped his head. He needed sleep. And blood. And . . . . Faith.

He’d have to settle for two out of three. But just until nightfall.

The instant the sun went down, he was going to find her.


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


Faint streaks of sunlight were breaking over the streets of Sunnydale when just in front of 1630 Revello Drive, a pulsing, wavering rainbow of light burst into being. Mrs. Graverman’s dogs howled, while the Henderson’s cat hissed in surprise at the power emanating down the street.

The rainbow coalesced into a starburst, rays of multicolored light radiating outward from a central point to just about the middle of the street. Had any humans been out and about at that early hour, their eyes would have been blinded from the intensity, but thankfully none but the four-legged denizens of that small town were awake. The animals shied away, darting for cover.

Emitting a flare of green and gold light, the starburst popped, then disappeared, leaving behind the figure of a deceptively small woman.

Blinking heavily and feeling the fatigue and stress of the last few days weighing on her again, Buffy shivered in reaction to the change in time and space.

Home sweet home. .

Where the heck is everyone? I figured someone would still be up. . . Sniffing a little at being forgotten, Buffy headed for the front walk. The lights were all out, but the shiny red sports car Giles drove was still parked out front, and the DeSoto and Jeep were in the driveway. Okay, looks like it’s still party central at Buffy’s.

Shaking her head at her own irreverence, Buffy slipped quietly in the front door. There was a faint noise from somewhere in the back of the house and Buffy figured someone must still be awake. Heading for the kitchen, she surprised Faith, who was rummaging about in the cabinets.

“Hungry?”

“Holy shit, B!” Faith jumped, whirling around to face the other slayer. “Goddamnit! Don’t do that.”

A sly smile played about Buffy’s lips and she barely managed to stifle the inappropriate giggle threatening to erupt. “Sorry. I thought you heard me come in. And, well. . . ” she started to elaborate when Faith held up a hand.

“You thought I was blondie.”

“Ah. Yeah.” Doing a poor job of feigning nonchalance, Buffy glanced around. “Where is he?”

“He’s not back yet. Went after the baby.” Faith shut the cabinet, trying to look less like an interloper. “Watchers figured out where he had to go and how to get him there, then he and the other vamp took off.”

“So how long have they been gone?” Buffy made a beeline for the refrigerator, snagging some of the Christmas cookies on the way.

“Not sure. I wasn’t here when they left.”

Raising an eyebrow in question, Buffy asked, “Where were you?”

Faith looked away, not really wanting to get into a whole discussion about where she was and who she’d been with, but Buffy must have read something in her expression, because a smile bloomed and she laughed at her. “Never mind. You were with Jenner, huh?”

“It’s not like that, B.”

“Not like what? You mean you weren’t knocking boots?” Buffy laughed outright then at the expression on Faith’s face. “Oh, c’mon, Faith. I live with Spike. You don’t really think I’m that innocent and prissy, do you?”

Trying to work past the idea of Buffy being blunt and open about sex, Faith shook her head. “I guess not, not with that hottie around all the time.”

A cool eyebrow quirked in her direction; a move eerily reminiscent of the vampire in question. “Just remember that hottie is mine.”

Holding up her hands, Faith nodded her head. “Got that memo loud and clear. We’re cool.”

Waiting patiently for Faith to elaborate, Buffy systematically demolished more than half the tray of cookies, then moved onto the oranges and bananas, downing glasses of water between bites. When Faith kept her silence, Buffy looked up, her cheeks full of banana, and blushed at the look on the other slayer’s face. “What? I’m hungry.”

“I see that.”

Buffy huffed a little. “Look, the morning sickness has been really bad. I couldn’t eat anything at all. So when I get hungry, I eat.” Switching topics completely, Buffy didn’t take her eyes from Faith. “So, what’s up with you and Jenner?”


“Nothing.” Stubbornly staying mute on the subject, Faith turned the tables on Buffy. “What happened with Willow?”

“Way long story. Really only wanna tell it once. I’ll wait ‘til everyone’s here.”

“Where is she?”

Buffy shrugged. “I’m not sure. Last time I saw her, she was pretty out of it. I guess she’s going to get sent back here eventually.”

“And you’re okay with that? I thought you were best buds?”

It took a long time for Buffy to respond, and when she finally did, Faith was shocked by the suppressed anger in her voice. “No. Not in a long time. I can’t forgive her for what she did. She ripped me out of heaven and drugged Dawnie and Tara to do it. And she lied about all of it. Lied to me, to Giles, to everyone. She. . . she wasn’t even sorry she did any of it.”

Wiping away a few stray tears, Buffy continued. “She tried to kill Dawnie and Spike. God, what she put me through that night, I don’t think I can ever forgive that. And it wasn’t like she even thought about what she was doing. She just didn’t like the way things were turning out and she decided that was wrong.” Buffy shook her head, fighting more tears. “All this stuff? Her fault. Hers and Angel’s.”

For the second time in as many hours, Faith found herself hugging one of the Summers girls as she cried.


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



Spike was counting off the steps in his head in an attempt to fool himself into not panicking. At least this time the mist wasn’t oppressive, wasn’t weighing in on them and darkening. This mist almost felt soothing, like cool showers after a scorching hot day, a relief from what lay behind them and respite.

He refused to think about the bridge giving way, or the wooden slats creaking and cracking beneath his feet; or about how far a drop it might be. Short of a drop into holy water or fire or even bright sunshine, there wasn’t any fall he wouldn’t survive, but that didn’t mean it would be easy. The bridge swayed and dipped in some spots, but held fast and strong.

At step one hundred forty-seven – and he was aware of the irony – he felt the bridge dip
dangerously and he paused, inhaling deeply. Lawson froze behind him and the dogs, no more than twenty paces ahead, also stopped. Snippets of sound, soft sibilant whispers of noise, rose in the air around them. Spike groaned. Not this shite again.


He waited, hoping the sound didn’t presage bad news. When the noise neither increased nor abated, he hazarded a step forward. And a second one.

By the fifth step forward, the hounds started moving again, and Lawson was gingerly catching up, carefully stepping on the same slats Spike had used.

The cadence of the whispers changed, easing into a soft chant, high and sweet. The mist began clearing, patches of blue sky and sunlight breaking through. He looked down to see the waters less than a hundred feet below them. Dolphins crested the otherwise smooth surface and low flying white birds soared just above the frolicking creatures.

Spike laughed in sheer relief. Glancing up again, he caught a glimpse of the opposite end, and waiting for them at the end was Rianwyn. She waved, urging them forward and the hounds bounded toward her, making the bridge bounce violently. Spike was right behind them with Lawson hot on his heels.

“Greetings, my lord.” Rianwyn curtsied low, a mischievous smile on her face and a merry twinkle in her eyes.

“What’s this then?” Spike stared at her, unsure of what had just transpired. “What the hell happened jus’ now?”

Her laughter seemed to clear away the last vestiges of the mist. “That was Drochaid na Duil.”

Spike ran a hand through his hair. “My Gaelic is more than a bit rusty, an’ I don’t think Lawson here speaks any. Would you mind translating that for me?”

“In Saes, it means Bridge of Hopes, more or less.” Her smile was bright and he was once again struck by how much she reminded him of Buffy.

“Guess that means you hope more or less you get across.” She laughed at his grumbled words, shaking her head.

“It means your search is nearly done. Just one more trial and then you can return to your home.” Her hand on his forearm, she pulled him forward, motioning Lawson to follow them. “This is a dire test, though I am certain sure you will succeed.”

“Damn glad you are, princess. ‘M not so sure myself.”

The bridge ended on a cliff top, which sloped downward gently to a grassy plain as far as they could see. It reminded him of the coastline of the western part of England, up near the Lake District, where there were still to this day vast open areas. His parents had taken the family there one summer when he was nearly twelve and he could still remember the views. This place was very much like that.

Rianwyn’s smile faded a bit, and her eyes darkened. “To be sure it shall not be easy. But I know what kind of warrior you are, William. You will succeed.”

The eerie wailing of a lone uilleann piper echoed over the cliffs drawing their attention. “Gonna have company in a bit.”

Her expression turned grim, though she tried to hide it from them. “They are here.”

Four figures approached, emerging from behind a small copse of trees, moving at a leisurely pace toward them. The piper hung back, stopping first and letting the mournful tune draw to a close. The other three came closer and as they did, Spike identified two of them as women and the third was a youth of about the same age as Dawn.

The two women stopped a handful of steps away, faces lined and worn from years out in harsh conditions. They were about the same height, standing just shorter than Spike. Sporting short kilts and leather vests, both had blue tattoos on their muscular arms and legs. Long dark plaits hung over their shoulders, wrapped in thin ties that matched the plaids of their kilts. Heavy boots and wicked looking swords completed their look. If they had been a bit more feminine, Spike might have been inclined to tease and flirt, since he loved nothing more than a woman who could hold her own in a fight. But these two were another story altogether.

“Why have you brought this amadan here?” One stepped forward, towering over the slight form of Rianwyn.

“He is here as our guest. You know this.” Rianwyn held her ground, didn’t even flinch when the other raised her hand.

The second one spoke, moving to stand beside the first. “No guest comes so armed.”

“He is armed because he must be. Three challenges must he face. Yours is the last.”

Eyeing Spike with something close to disdain, the two spoke together. “Does he know what he must do?”

“Nay, I have not told him.”

The second of the two sighed. “Very well.” She pointed to the piper. “We will wait there.”

On silent feet they moved away, taking the boy with them. With one eye on them, Rianwyn pulled Spike closer. “This place is Rath na Claidheamh.” Motioning him to silence, she added, “The Place of Swords. You must defeat them both in order to achieve your goal.”

“Who the bleedin’ hell are they?” Spike followed her lead, whispering heatedly. “How good are they?”

A bitter laugh escaped her. “They are legend.” Surreptitiously pointing to the one wearing mostly green, Rianwyn added, “That is Scathach. It was she who trained Cuchulain and Finn MacCumhail. The other is Aife, her twin.”

“How the . . . bleedin’ fuck! How in hell do you ‘spect me to fight them?” Spike stared down at Rianwyn, disbelief flooding through him. “Dunno much about them, princess, but I’ve heard tale of the other two. You’re telling me I have to beat goddesses at swordplay?” He paced a bit, looking at her again. “You’re off your nut.”

“William.” She stepped in front of him, halting his pacing. “You can do it. You need only disarm them.”

He laughed then, the sound bitter and harsh. “Might as well ask me to off them both. Can’t see disarming them without killin’.”

“You have an advantage over them.” She moved in front of him, blocking his view of the two women.

“How do you figure that, sweetheart?” Spike wasn’t ready for this, wasn’t prepared to take on two expert swordswomen.

“You are just as strong as they are and you are left handed, are you not?” At his nod, she continued. “There are not many swordsmen who fight as you do. They have not faced many. In fact, I think you are only the third.”

“An’ the other two?”

“Defeated them.” When his look turned disbelieving, Rianwyn stared him down. “With my own eyes, did I see them beaten so. My lord himself is left handed and he did so easily.”

Witnessing the certainty in her eyes, he nodded. “I’ll do my best.”

A crooked smile crossed her lips. “Tis all we ask of you, William. Tis all she wants.”

“Someday, princess, you’ll tell me who that man is, yeah?” Ignoring her other comment, Spike handed his sword and backpack to Lawson, who had remained quiet throughout their exchange. Taking off his duster, he handed that to Lawson also.

Sam looked at him and said, “Sire, you’re the best fighter I’ve ever seen.”

Nodding at Lawson’s words, Spike muttered, “Not sure that’s gonna count for much here an’ now.”

Spike popped his neck, shaking his arms and loosening up the muscles in his legs. Inhaling deeply, he started to speak, but Rianwyn waved off his words. “There is no need for last words, William. You can do this.”

“All right then.” He shook his head, amazed by her confidence in him. He knew his way around a fight, that was for sure, but he’d never engaged in a formal challenge, not like this. The two champions Rianwyn had mentioned were Celtic legends; the leaders of troops of warriors famed for their prowess and fearless natures. Spike wasn’t going to fool himself into believing he was worthy of being in their vaulted company. And yet there she was – that slip of a girl who was so much like his Buffy that it ached to look at her at sometimes – telling him she believed.

He could almost fool himself into believing that it was Buffy uttering those words.

Shaking off his reverie and intently focusing his attention on the moment, Spike deliberately pushed all thoughts of Buffy aside.

The two women prowled closer, gaits loose and prepared. Spike hefted the well balanced blade in his right hand, tightening his fingers around the grip. They circled each other, the women widening their circle with each step, so that eventually they would come at him from both sides. Anticipating that maneuver, Spike sidestepped to his left, keeping them both in his line of sight. He could hear their heartbeats, one the echo of the other, and he knew he had the advantage there also.

The urge to shift into game face was surging through him, but he shoved it aside. Better hold off on that ‘til they least expect it. “All right, ladies, shall we dance?”

His grinning chuckle caught them a bit by surprise and Scathach responded by laughing. “Oh, yes, amadan, we shall.”

Fully expecting her to take the first swipe at him, Spike braced himself, only to be surprised by the blow coming from her sister, Aife. She aimed for his leg, and he jumped, avoiding the cut. That seemed to be the signal, for Scathach dove into fight, aiming high on his chest. Spike blocked her, bringing his own sword up and then whirling around to face her counterpart.

The first few blows were wild, aimed more at gauging his abilities than attempting to inflict any real damage, but that rapidly changed. Steadily increasing the force of their attack, the two women swiftly had him on the defensive, as he bobbed and weaved away from their deadly swords. Aife struck hard, laying a heavy blow on his right side and Spike felt his ribs give under the force of the hit. Growling lowly, he followed his instincts and favored that side more heavily, in an effort to fool them into thinking he’d been hurt worse than he was.

Scathach moved in, aiming for the spot where his neck flowed into his shoulder and Spike ducked, rolling his shoulder and knocking her off balance. She overcompensated, flipping into the move and rolling over his back. Aife stalked around to the other side, keeping him in the circle of their swords and he jumped when she once again aimed low. Her sister came at him simultaneously, once more aiming for his shoulder. Spike twisted in mid-jump, flipping up and over them, landing behind Aife.

Done with playing now, and knowing he had a slight advantage for the moment, Spike shifted the sword easily into his dominant hand. He advanced on Aife, driving her steadily and quickly backward, deliberately keeping her off-balance. She lunged back, narrowly avoiding a vicious thrust into her side, and dropped down to her haunches, desperate to find an opening. Her breathing and heart rate jumped, and Spike’s grin appeared, his tongue peeking out between curved lips.

“C’mon, ladies, let’s have a go, yeah?”

Scathach rumbled a warning and he had a half second to react before she struck, her sword heading for his injured right side. Spike pivoted on his right foot, his left leg into the kick before she could react. His foot crushed into her unprotected ribs, and she landed flat on her back, gasping for air. Aife had recovered though and launched herself at him. Screeching her anger, her sword blurred with the ferocity of her attack.

Spike held her off, waiting for the moment to strike his own blow. Scathach had regained her feet, watching the other two fight for a moment, looking for an opening to rejoin them. Spying her, Spike made a split second decision. Wrapping his right hand around her back he reaching around her for her sword arm. Using her body as a fulcrum, he jumped up, slamming both feet into Aife, dropping her down easily. She groaned, every rib in her side broken and rolled to her side, coughing up blood. Spike dropped down, slamming one heel onto her wrist, loosening her grip on the sword.

Aife collapsed then, barely uttering “Yield” before she passed out.

Scathach, though, had reacted more violently, whirling around even before Spike’s feet returned to the ground, catching him with a surprise fist to the face as her sister was speaking. Wiping away his blood with a snicker, Spike grinned, letting the adrenaline rush through him. Following up the punch with a second one, she hooked her foot behind his, pushing him backward. Spike landed on his back, chuckling when she stood over him, her nostrils flaring. “Do you give, amadan?”

He chuckled again, raising himself up on his elbows. “Not a chance, pet.”

Gracefully rolling forward, Spike tackled her as he pushed to his feet. Shoving her off balance, he brought up his sword, arcing it toward her head. She ducked, pitching over and around, coming at him from waist level. He arched backward, almost eluding the blow, but the tip caught on his hip, yanking him further off balance. Using the awkwardness of his surge backward, Spike brought up his right leg, aiming his foot for her head. Scathach ducked, but not in time and his boot connected with her jaw. She shrieked in pain, swinging the flat edge of her blade at his head in retaliation. Spike turned, turtling a little, so that his shoulder took the majority of the blow. Angered now, Scathach was getting sloppier, and her blows became wilder and less controlled. Knowing he had the advantage finally and that it was only a matter of time before she conceded, Spike pressed his attack.

The end came as their swords locked, and he reached for her with his right hand, grabbing her around the neck. Twisting her around and pulling her hard against his chest, he leaned forward and pressed his mouth into her neck. Spike shifted into game face and growled lowly. “Do you give?”

Shuddering, unsure of what demon held her in its grip, Scathach fought his hold, struggling to break free. Spike hooked his leg in front of hers, holding her more fully against him. “It’s done, pet.”

He dropped his sword, disarming her in the next instant. He pushed her down so that she was sitting next to the prone form of her sister and held Scathach’s own sword poised at her throat. “Do you yield?”

Her expression seethed with anger, and her breath came in short, harsh pants. She spat at his feet, the single word spoken with no grace at all. “Aye.”

Spike reversed the hilt, returning her sword to her.

Rianwyn approached, a smile wreathing her features. “Well done.”

Spike shared a glance with Lawson, and he said, “Don’t mean to be rude, princess, but where’s the sprog?”

“He’s here.”

Spike turned and stared.



So please if there's any interest in the third book, just drop me a line, okay? Thanks. Nia