[A/N: This started out as the last chapter, but apparently, my characters thought differently. Therefore, this is not the last chapter, but the penultimate chapter. Title and quotes are as attributed, and the disclaimers are in full force and effect (meaning I own nothing. Nada. Zip. Zilch.]


Previously: Buffy’s returned and bonded with Faith; Giles and Anya have consummated their relationship, though she hasn’t officially split up with Xander ; Willow has finally gotten a clue what she’s done and what will happen should she try again; Spike has completed the trials and returned home with Connor and Lawson. This picks up immediately following the last installment.


Book Two. Chapter Seventy-Seven Rarest Vintage

Three grand essentials to happiness
in this life are something to do,
something to love, and something to hope for.
Joseph Addison

Cherish all your happy moments:
they make a fine cushion for old age.
Christopher Morley

We tend to forget that happiness
doesn't come as a result of getting
something we don't have,
but rather of recognizing and
appreciating what we do have.
Frederick Keonig

Happiness is a wine of the rarest vintage,
and seems insipid to a vulgar taste.
Logan Pearsall Smith, Life and Human Nature, Afterthoughts



The chorus of voices babbling behind her receded the longer she looked at the teenager standing in front of her. Buffy shifted her gaze to Spike, who was eyeing her with his head tilted to the side, his eyes sparkling with blue and gold lights in the late afternoon sunshine. It struck her then, more than his appearance had moments ago, and she blinked, staring at him.

He was standing in direct sunlight. And not burning.

A shriek caught in her throat and she lunged at him, pushing him onto the porch and through the doorway, plowing through the others like a front lineman for the Forty-Niners intent on protecting Joe Montana.

Spike landed on his ass in the front hallway with Buffy draped over him and the others all looking down at the pair of them, mouths gaped wide and startled looks in their eyes.

“Lawson!” And Buffy was up, yanking the other vampire in by his shirt collar and dumping him on the floor beside Spike. She stood there, panting heavily, wild eyes staring at the both of them.

“Buffy?”

It was Faith’s voice that pulled her out of the daze she was in, and Buffy shook her whole body, as she looked up at her counterpart. “Yeah?”

“You okay?”

“Yeah.” Buffy turned, staring at the shadowed figure of Connor. He was standing just outside the doorway, the small scrap of blanket clutched in his hand, and she walked toward him, tears suddenly flooding her eyes. “Connor?”

He ducked his head, afraid to look at her, afraid to meet any of their eyes. There hadn’t been time to explain during the return, nor an opportunity, not that he even had a clear one. He’d missed them so much, crying in his sleep as a little boy, holding onto the blanket when everything else was gone, disintegrated into dust. Dreams had filled his nights, dreams of home and love. He’d seen too, in Ceridwen’s cauldron, what had occurred before he’d been snatched away from them; had seen how they cared about him. Darla – his mother – had also visited him in his dreams, explaining everything.

But now, faced with the reality of being back, with the only people he considered family, he was overwhelmed.

Then she was standing in front of him, her hand outstretched to reach for him. She touched his arm, her grip firm and tight around his wrist. Connor blinked, gazing at her from lowered lashes. Her expression – wariness competing with the maternal instinct to gather him close and hug him to pieces – gave him a moment to answer her.

“Hi.”

A watery laugh escaped her and she caught his eye. With a smile and a whispered “Welcome home”, Buffy drew him into her arms and hugged him tight.

When he didn’t flinch or pull away, she tightened her hold on him. “We missed you.”

“I missed you too, Mom.”

And just like that, Buffy knew it was going to be okay.



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


Just blocks away, roughly about the same time Buffy was tackling Spike to the hallway floor, a darker light flared across the lawns and driveways of this particular section of Sunnydale.

Instead of drawing attention, this light; dark, swirling vortices of moss green, black, murky brown, mixed with deepest blue obscured the waning natural sunlight and forced eyes and attention away. There was something heavy and ominous about the light flooding this particular street; something unsettling and disturbing.

All noise ceased and the rolling thunder from a few blocks away was a distant, barely heard thrum of sound vibrating the ground. In the absence of sound, with vision obscured by that hellish light, a soft form emerged, slumping to the ground.

Unlike the easy transitions of the others, Willow’s was less than gentle. Her insides felt shredded, nausea roiling in her empty belly. Pain surging in her wobbly legs and shards of agony pushed against her skull. Willow clutched her hands to her belly, fighting the urge to vomit the meager contents of her stomach onto the grass beside her head.

With shaky hands devoid of anything resembling strength, she forced her upper body away from the ground, turning haunted pale eyes toward the dark lights swirling over her head. A grimace of heart-stopping pain wracked her slim form and Willow couldn’t fight her body’s need to purge. Bile spewed from her mouth, covering the ground and curling the grass beneath her hands. Tears welled in her eyes and the full force of what she’d done – and the grimness of her future – finally registered in her psyche and Willow collapsed on her back.

Oh, Gods, what have I done? What? Closing her sightless eyes against the deepening shadows surrounding her, Willow sought some vestiges of the person she’d once been.
I’m nothing. I’m . . . I’ve hurt the people I said I loved, because I couldn’t deal. . .

Willow curled onto her side, dropped her head into her hands and wept.


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


Dawn stirred on the couch, the voices of everyone babbling at once in the hallway reaching into her drugged sleep and rousing her to wakefulness. Her eyes fluttered once, then a second time when the party swept from the hallway into the living room. She fought to make sense of the blurry images her brain couldn’t quite sort out.

Spike was the first to sense her swim toward consciousness and he dropped down to the floor, his hand cupping her cheek, thumb gently brushing over her bruises.

“Hey there, platelet. How’re you feeling?” Concern was clear in his eyes, and he motioned the others out of the room and then to silence when that seemed to fail. “You with me?”

Her throat was dry and her voice a scratchy husk, barely more than a whisper. “Hey. You’re home?”

“No, bit, I’m still off in the wilds.” His eyes twinkled at her and Dawn raised a weak hand to punch at his chest.

“Wanker.” The word sounded so funny coming from her that he laughed outright.

“Tha’s my girl.” He brushed a hand over her tangled hair, gently squeezing her shoulder. “You wanna try an’ sit up?”

“Yeah.” The air around them was quiet, everyone watching as Spike helped Dawn to a sitting position. She refused to meet anyone’s eyes, even Buffy’s when she moved to sit beside her, her smaller body fitting neatly between Dawn and the couch arm. Her actions of the past few days swirled in her sluggish thoughts and Dawn couldn’t – didn’t want to – see the pity she was sure the others would be displaying.

“Is there anything I can get you?” Buffy’s voice was low and she took Dawn’s hand in hers. Spike’s hand covered both of theirs. Dawn felt tears beginning to well up and she sniffled.

“Nope.” She glanced up, quickly scanning the room. There were pockets of conversation going on, hardly anyone was paying attention to the three of them except for the guy she didn’t recognize looking back at her. “Who’s that?”

“Dawnie. . . that’s. . . . that’s. . . ” Buffy and Spike shared a look and Dawn’s brain finally kicked in.

“Connor?” He smiled shyly, ducking his head. Her muted squeal brought his head up sharply and he blushed darkly. “Holy shit!”

She struggled to get up, grimacing in pain when her body protested the movement. Taking note of her scramble, Spike held her still and motioned to Connor with his other hand. “C’mon, sprog. ‘M thinkin’ she’s lookin’ for a hug.”

“You’re not wrong.” Dawn muttered and held out her hand to Connor. “So that’s why only a dead man could go.”

“Guess so, Dawnie. It explains a lot.” Buffy linked her fingers with Spike’s as the two teens sized each other up. “You’re okay with this?”

“Well, it’s normal, right? In the freaky hellmouthy way of our lives. It’s cool.” Dawn shrugged off the weirdness, as if it were nothing more than just an ordinary day, and Buffy realized, in that instant, this was normal. All sorts of weird things happening daily was normal for her. And her family.

Her laugh was infectious and she surged off the couch into Spike’s waiting arms. “Yup. Freaky is the new normal.”

“Don’t worry, Connor, you’ll get used to the weirdness.” Dawn smiled at him and Connor felt something tight around his heart loosen.

“I think I get that.” He smiled crookedly back at her, feeling a little more comfortable. He looked up in time to see Buffy kissing Spike. A smile broke out on his face and he shook his head. “Are they always like that?”

“Dude, you have no idea.”

His gaze swung back to Dawn and in the way of teenagers everywhere, they shared a look of exasperation with their elders and laughed.

It was good to be home again.


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


In the hours between sunrise and now, Jenner hadn’t gotten any sleep or rest at all. He’d paced, moving from room to room in the small hotel. He’d barked orders at the vampires with him, getting them ready to leave the hellmouth. He’d done everything he could think of to keep his mind off the one thing he couldn’t do.

He couldn’t go after Faith.

The itch to do so burned along his nerves, making them thrum and hum with barely leashed desire. Watching the hands tick slowly on the clocks in the hotel, feeling the slow slide of the sun in the sky, cursing his lack of foresight. Passing regret for untying the girl flashed through him, but the delicious thrill of anticipation kept his nerves on the edge of a knife.

Three hundred odd years he’d walked the earth. He’d been in some pretty interesting predicaments, seen some very strange things, done even stranger, but nothing had prepared him for this yearning. Even his love for Susanna hadn’t felt like this, this burning, aching itch. Not even the farce of what he’d first felt for Darla. This was . . . .

If this is what William felt every time he was near the Slayer, it was a wonder he’d kept his sanity.

He’d barely sunk his fangs into Faith’s silky flesh and he already felt her everywhere, sensed her at the edges of his awareness, haunting him with her presence.

No wonder William chased slayers. . .

They were delicious, intoxicating, riveting. . . dangerous.

Once a somewhat cautious man, that trait had carried over after his turning. He had slowly, methodically built an empire that hadn’t crumbled over time, even under the noses of the Council of Watchers. In all the years of his existence, they hadn’t been able to penetrate his defenses. That caution had led him to pick his minions and childer with a care most other vampires didn’t exercise. It had saved him on more than one occasion. His impulsive decision to journey to the Hellmouth had been based more in a need to get even with either Angelus or William than anything else had been completely uncharacteristic.

At the time, he hadn’t questioned it, not completely. But now, waiting for the sun to recede, he wondered if the pull of the two slayers had been part of it. He knew they were sirens, calling vampires to their doom; he just hadn’t imagined it would be this strong a pull.

Or maybe it wasn’t the fact these two were slayers. Maybe it was just Faith and Buffy themselves.

William certainly wouldn’t have taken the girl and left her alive if there wasn’t some other tug on his emotions – something other than this constant, distracting hum.

Jenner moved toward the stairs, finding himself suddenly at the bottom, pacing the lobby before his brain registered that he’d even left his room. The shadows lengthened, night creeping in on slow hands and he growled, cursing the sunlight.

He wasn’t going to wait any longer. The sun had slipped far enough to the west.

Pushing open the door, Jenner inhaled deeply, his nose scenting out Faith’s heady aroma easily. A wicked thought crossed his mind and a feral grin stretched across his broad face.

I’m coming, Faith. . . and I’m not stopping until I have you.


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


The atmosphere in the house had taken on the air of a spontaneous party. Wesley and Giles heading out to the liquor store for supplies while Oz took Tara and Anya to the supermarket for more substantial fare. Faith had cleared out, though only as far as the back yard, leaving the newly reunited family group alone.

Spike had moved to the big armchair, and Buffy promptly ensconced herself on his lap, his arm curling around her waist. His eyes watched the two teens, as they warily got acquainted.

Buffy leaned into Spike’s embrace, her head resting on his shoulder. Like him, her eyes were centered on the teens; unlike him, she wasn’t listening to their conversation. Instead, Buffy was focusing on two. Her fingers meshed with Spike’s and she whispered softly, almost idly, “He doesn’t look like him.”

“Mmmmm. No, looks more like his. . . like Darla.” He hadn’t wanted to call Darla his mother, though she had done more for the boy than his father ever had.

She didn’t bother correcting him. “He’s tall, though.”

Spike’s shrug was something so slight Buffy didn’t think he’d even really moved at all. “Gets that much from Peaches.”

She looked closer and nodded, silently conceding Spike’s pointed observation. “Do you know how long it was for him?”

He considered this for long minutes, calculating in his head the amount of time. “Longer than it was for either of us. ‘M thinkin’ he’s ‘bout the same age as ‘Bit is.”

“Great. Two hormone bombs. Just what we needed.” There was a hint of something sounding a lot like regret in her voice and Spike angled his head a little. Even with his change in position, he couldn’t really see her expression.

“Buffy?”

She shook her head, hoping to avoid his probing gaze. When that didn’t work, her voice dropped even lower. “I kinda miss baby Connor.”

His hand stretched across her belly, his thumb running over the still smooth planes. “Got one of our own comin’ soon enough.”

“So we do.” She snuggled closer, her hand covering his.

Connor’s head lifted in response to something Dawn had said, and he caught the tail end of their conversation. A strange look passed across his face, but neither of the others noticed. He smiled, shook his head and answered Dawn. “They called me the Destroyer, but I’m not really sure what they meant by that.”


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



The antiseptic smell and almost noiseless corridors used to bother him, setting his nerves on edge and tickling his nose with the cleanliness. Now though, after spending weeks at her bedside, those things didn’t even give him a moment’s pause.

Gunn watched the shallow rise and fall of the girl he’d come to consider the strongest person he’d ever met. Cordelia Chase refused to surrender, refused to die and refused to lie there and still be a victim. When he thought about the two women – Fred and Cordelia – he was constantly amazed by their strengths. Neither one of them looked formidable, neither one looked like they could withstand some of the things they’d had happen to them. Fred was rail-thin, all long coltish limbs and delicate grace, while Cordelia had the look of someone who hadn’t had to do much work – beyond looking damn gorgeous – her whole life.

And yet they’d survived events that would have driven men to their knees.

Most of the small cuts and even some of the larger ones on Cordelia’s skin had healed, and all the bruises were yellowed with age. She’d been awake more in the last two days, though he’d begun to loose count of how long they’d been sitting at her side, waiting for something . . . any sign of renewed sense. Because though she’d been awake, Cordelia had been far from communicative.

She refused to speak. Wouldn’t talk to the doctors or nurses beyond a response to how she was feeling, wouldn’t respond to Fred. And she barely even looked at him.

Gunn didn’t want to push the issue, knowing how stubborn she could be, and knowing too, that what Angelus had done to her wasn’t just physical in nature. The doctors had told them as much as they were permitted to about the injuries Cordelia had sustained. He didn’t know for certain, but he and Fred figured she’d been raped numerous times, though the doctors wouldn’t confirm so.

He watched her now. Her dark eyes were fixed on the television, and it was clear she wasn’t paying any attention, because Fred had switched on old re-runs of Family Ties and Cordelia wasn’t even smiling. One of her doctors had been in earlier and usual questions had been asked and answered. Those were the only words Cordelia had uttered since she woke up. Gunn shifted and Cordelia flinched, moving closer to opposite side of the bed. Before he could say something and leave the room, the door swung open and Xander Harris slid in, a bouquet of wild flowers clutched in his hands.

“Hey.” His greeting was subdued, his eyes averted from the sight of his former girlfriend. “How’s everyone today?”

Fred greeted him warmly, hugging him and grabbing the flowers at the same time. Gunn extended his hand, but neither man said anything while Fred bustled about, putting the flowers in a vase and making idle chatter to hopefully spark some response from Cordelia.

Xander sat down next to him, his eyes darting about the room, finally resting on the television screen. It was clear by his agitated state that something was weighing on Xander’s mind, and Gunn wondered if he would give it up, confiding in them. They’d become something resembling friends, though he wasn’t sure the brunet realized it. Spending hours watching over Cordelia had forged a bond of sorts, despite the fact they never really engaged in idle chatter.

For long minutes, Xander watched the antics of the Keaton family, trying to come up with something to say. It wasn’t until Fred had stopped babbling and stood still, staring at Cordelia, that the two men realized the seer had spoken.

“Thank you.”

It was all she said.

All she needed to say.

Gunn breathed deeply, the first time he’d done so in weeks and he ducked his head when he realized Xander was sitting quietly next to him, fighting tears.

Cordy just might pull through.


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


Feeling something like a fifth wheel, and unsure whether that was a welcomed wheel, Faith headed out to the back yard, leaving Buffy and Spike alone with the two teenagers. She’d managed, through most of the day, to put aside thoughts of the other vampire. It hadn’t been easy, but every time she found her mind straying toward the topic of Jenner, Faith immersed herself in something else.

Bonding with both Summers girls had been a welcome surprise. She hadn’t expected that at all. Dawn was a puzzle, and she knew there was more to her story than she’d been told. Faith remembered her being a bratty kid the first time she’d been in Sunnydale, but something in her slayer dreams had indicated that wasn’t really the whole truth about Dawn.

She’d only been free for a couple of days and Faith knew it was only a matter of time before the State came looking for their escapee. Gonna have to make a move soon. Dunno if I can stay here, waiting for them to find me. Faith stared off into the bushes, her mind a million miles away.

There was no doubt in her mind that she and Buffy had reached some sort of truce, some understanding. A lot of it had to do with the time she’d spent in prison. Doing hard time had changed her, hardening her in some ways while it softened her in others. Having an unlimited amount of time to come to terms with her actions and the reactions of others had tempered her control issues. Faith knew now why she’d sided with the Mayor, why she’d hurt Wesley, why she’d done a lot of things. Her perspective had changed, and while she knew some changes had been made, there was still a long way to go before she completely conquered her own demons.

Her welcome back into Sunnydale had been unexpectedly warm. While none of them had had open arms and willing to throw her a party, it hadn’t been with weapons drawn either – although with Buffy, it might have come close. However, between one night and the next, tension had eased considerably and everyone had relaxed. Having bigger enemies to worry about took the pressure off, but now with those gone, Faith had no illusions about how long she’d be welcome or wanted.

Unfortunately, Faith also knew she had nowhere else to go.

Any options she had were limited. She couldn’t get a real job because she was on the run from the authorities. She also didn’t think her welcome in Sunnydale would last much longer, especially given how she had so little to contribute. And, she thought, there’s the issue of slaying. Can I just run away from that again? Do I wanna leave it behind?

Abusing her strength and power as a Slayer had been part of her fall from grace. Now older, hopefully wiser, and a bit less likely to run off the rails, she was allowing herself a bit of guarded hope that this time she wouldn’t make the same mistakes. Though she wasn’t sure where to put Jenner . . . . damn it. I promised myself I wasn’t gonna think about him!

Crap.

Faith’s foot started tapping on the stairs as she rubbed her hands over her jeans, trying vainly to push thoughts of Jenner aside. Her eyes closed and her full lips pursed, flattening her dimples. She was the picture of determination, though her heart was beating wildly in her chest and she could feel the arousal just the thought of Jenner invoked.

Her hands were shaky, her breathing erratic, and Faith wasn’t at all surprised when she opened her eyes to see a dark shadow at the far end of the yard. Had to know the vamp wasn’t gonna just let you skip out on him.

But when she got to her feet and walked closer, the shadow receded, and Faith wasn’t sure if she’d imagined it. Whirling around, she stalked back to the porch, roughly pulling open the door and stomping inside. Damn vampire. Making me all crazy and . .

She could hear low voices from the living room and Faith headed there. Buffy and the two teenagers were talking about Connor’s time away and Spike was nowhere to be seen. Not wanting to get involved, Faith wandered back toward the kitchen, wondering where Spike was. She could feel him, her Slayer-sense buzzing with awareness, so she knew he was still in the house.

With her back toward the hallway, Faith rifled through the refrigerator, knowing she wasn’t going to find anything different – at least not until the others returned – she didn’t sense anything until Spike’s low voice reached her.

“Faith.”

“Yeah?” She turned around to face him and stopped short at the look on his face. “What?”

“Someone’s here to see you.”

“What?” Instantly thinking it was the police, Faith paled and looked wildly toward the door. “Stall them.”

He looked at her quizzically, then chuckled. “‘S not like that, pet. ‘Somethin’ else. Coppers haven’t picked up on your location this soon.”

“So who’s here?”

He laughed again and pointed toward the back door. “Go see for yourself.”

“Nahuh. I’m not going out there.” She slammed the door to the refrigerator, moving to pass Spike in the hallway.

“He’s just gonna wait outside all night. Unless Buffy takes pity on the poor sod an’ invites him in.” Spike’s eyes lit up with more laughter and she could hear the amused tone in his voice clearly.

“So not funny, dude.” Her eyes fixed on his. “B wouldn’t do that, would she?”

The chuckles turned to outright laughter and he shook his head. “Never know. She jus’ might surprise you.”

Faith stared at Spike, disbelief flooding her body. “She wouldn’t do that. She’s not that crazy.”

He was too busy trying to control his laughter. “Never know, pet. She’s done some right surprising things.”

She slammed the door shut on the refrigerator. Faith didn’t believe for one second Buffy would take a chance on another vampire, especially one that didn’t have any feelings for her, so she figured she was safe for a bit. Until Spike reached behind her, opening the refrigerator. When he turned around, he had two beers in his hand and he smirked at her. “Jus’ gonna go keep a lonely man company, pet.”

“What?”

He chuckled again, that infuriating smirk back on his face. “Gonna go talk to Jenner for a bit.”

Spike walked through the hallway toward the front door, listening all the while to the mad thump of Faith’s heartbeat.




to be continued -- for just a little bit longer. . . . Thank you all so much for the support!