[A/N: No need to fret, I swear I will finish this story, just have no idea when. Events in this one are a bit more, I guess you’d say, urgent than in the others. For one thing, there’s a much shorter time period, and I don’t really have all that ‘setting the stage’ stuff I had to do in the others. So yeah, this one, will hopefully be a bit shorter. I think. I hope. Well, that’s what I’m shooting for in any case. And to those of you who’ve been soo damn supportive – reviewers and those who took the time to email me personally – you’ve all given me a bit of a boost. So I thank you. From the bottom of my little heart. You’ve made me smile, fed the muse and given me a bit of hope. Thanks again. Title and quotes are as attributed. Disclaimers in full force and effect. I own nothing.]

Book Three

Chapter Eleven Hearts at peace

We gotta get out of this place
If it's the last thing we ever do
We gotta get out of this place
Girl, there's a better life for me and you
Believe me baby
I know it baby
You know it too
The Animals

Dreams are toys.
Yet for this once, yea, superstitiously,
I will be squared by this
The Winter’s Tale, act iii, sc. iii

Dreams happy as her day;
And laughter, learnt of friends; and gentleness,
In hearts at peace, under an English heaven.
Rupert Brooke, The Soldier


Hold fast your dreams!
Within your heart
Keep one still, secret spot
Where dreams may go,
Louise Driscoll, Hold Fast Your Dreams




Grace had gone, leaving them all alone until Tara was schedule to arrive. Buffy was curled up on the couch, idly watching the television, while Spike was puttering around in the kitchen. There wasn’t anything holding her interest and Buffy kept flipping through the channels, more in an effort to stay awake than anything else.

“You hungry?” Spike stood at the far end of the living room, watching her thoughtfully.

“Nope. Just trying to stay awake. And comfy.” She paused, shifting her weight off her hip and onto her back. “This isn’t comfy at all.”

Her pout had him moving forward before he realized it. “Lean up, kitten.”

Buffy tried, but the bulk of her pregnancy didn’t allow for it, and she whined again, grumbling and muttering under her breath. “So not fun at all.”

“I know, sweetness.” Spike lifted her easily, slipping behind her, his hands moving automatically to her waist, kneading the sore and over-extended muscles there. “Lean on me.”

“How come you always know what to say and what to do?” She melted against him, letting his strong hands work their magic. “I was all ready to be bitchy and you just . . . How do you do that?”

He chuckled, dropping kisses along her hair line and down the side of her neck. “Dunno, pet. Could be I jus’ know you, an’ know what you need.” He rested his chin on her shoulder, wrapping his arms around her. “Or could be that I’d do anything to keep you happy.”

She sniffled, fighting the sudden tears his tenderness had evoked. “How come you’re the best boyfriend I ever had?”

“Fate, pet. ‘S all it is.” Spike hugged her, holding her as close as possible.

Buffy leaned back, slumping heavily against his chest. “I’m all sleepy now.”

Spike kissed her shoulder. “Rest, then, kitten, I’ll hold you.”

True to his word, Spike held onto her as she slept, knowing that Buffy wouldn’t be able to sleep long. In the last couple of days, her sleep had deteriorated to long catnaps, none of them lasting longer than two hours. She always woke complaining of being too hot, or too uncomfortable, and the only time she was able to sleep more than two hours was whenever he held her.

Grabbing the remote from her lax hand, Spike settled in for a long, boring morning. He was asleep before the first program was over.


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


Cordelia was sitting in the wheelchair, dressed and ready to go when Xander made it back inside her room. The sunlight from the open shades seemed to settle on her shoulders, and for once there was an expression flickering in her eyes.

“I can’t wait to get out of here.”

Xander stopped in the doorway, drawn up short by her words. “Cordy?”

“I hate this place, this town.” She clutched at the wheels, pushing herself forward. “You are taking me to LA? Right?”

“That’s the plan.” He finally stepped into the room, giving her a wide berth. “Lemme push you.”

“I’m not weak anymore. I don’t need this thing.” Cordelia stopped moving, resting her hands on the arms, anger and defiance flaring in her voice. “I can walk out of here on my own.”

“I know that. But the hospital has rules, dear, and you can’t walk until you’re out of the building.” One of the nurses emerged from the bathroom, handing her the last of her belongings. “Just humor us this one last time.”

“Fine. Let’s go.”

Despite the haughty tone and the snippy words, Xander smiled widely. Cordelia was finally getting back to herself, ordering everyone around and breaking free of the angry depression that had colored her moods since she’d been rescued. It was good to see her this way, almost her old self again.

“Ready when you are.”

Xander walked beside the wheelchair, pushing elevator buttons and holding open doors so the two women could pass through easily, mind on his earlier conversation. Something about seeing Riley after all this time struck him as odd. It shouldn’t have taken almost a year for him to get that letter, even if he was overseas, deep in a jungle. Mail service couldn’t possibly be that bad, especially military mail. And anyway, even if the mail was held up, the last letter should have triggered some sort of response, because that had been the one about Buffy.

Their split hadn’t been that bad, at least from his point of view, not bad enough for him to ignore the news of her death. The Riley he thought he knew would have tried to call, tried to get some sort of information, even just to offer his condolences to Dawn. Xander couldn’t believe Riley could have gotten over Buffy that quickly, not when he’d been devastated by the thought of her not loving him. He’d seen the guy, known how hurt he was by that – and though Xander couldn’t blame Riley for being just a little angry – he also knew Buffy’s death would have hurt. It had to have. Her jump to save the world had hurt them all, even Spike.

Stricken by a bit of conscience, Xander stopped short just before the hospital exit. “Hey, Cordy, I gotta make a phone call. Hang on a minute.”

Not waiting for a response, Xander stepped outside and dialed the Magic Box. He really didn’t want to talk to Spike, and figuring he might get Giles on the phone, he called there.
“Good morning, Magic Box.”

“Wesley?”

“Speaking. Is this Xander?” There was no mistaking the surprise in Wesley’s voice.

“Yeah, it’s me. Listen, I just ran into Riley, Buffy’s ex-boyfriend.” He held the phone to his ear, listening as Wesley sputtered unintelligibly. “He said he just got back in town last night. I got a weird feeling about it.”

“How so?” Wesley couldn’t tell if he was more surprised by the information or that Xander was the one relaying it. He’d never expected to hear from the boy again, not after his break-up with Anya, and the fact he wasn’t really on speaking terms with either Buffy or Dawn.

“Dunno. Just tell Buffy that he’s in town.” Xander paced a few feet, debating with himself how much more he should say. “Look, I’m not the bleached one’s biggest fan, but even I can see how much Buffy wants him. So, I’m just giving you a head’s up.”

“Thank you, Xander, I’ll call and let them know.”

Xander hung up, believing he’d done the right thing, for Buffy and for himself. Walking back through the doorway, he crouched down in front of Cordelia, looking into her eyes. “You ready to leave this place?”

“I’m so ready, Xander. Let’s go.”

She stood up on somewhat steady legs, pride stiffening her posture and her head held regally. “I can’t wait to get out of here.


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


Connor sat in the cafeteria, watching Dawn and Janice work their way through the crowd, heading straight toward him. The two girls were engaged in animated chatter, heads bent together, focused on their conversation. Since his conversation with Spike the other night, Connor had thought long and hard about his advice to find himself a girlfriend. None of the girls in any of his classes caught his eye, and none of the girls in his limited social circle did either – except for Janice. The fact she was his pseudo-sister’s best friend made it a bit easier. When he’d first come back from the Otherworld, he’d had a slight crush on Dawn, which had eased in time to be nothing more than sibling affection. Her grief for Casey and the depression she’d been in hadn’t given him any room for hope that his crush would be reciprocated so he’d quickly lost interest.

Females mystified him, though he understood Buffy better than many of the others. It was easy to relate to her, though he still couldn’t comprehend how she didn’t blame him for Angelus – lately Connor had decided it was easier to refer to him that way than as his father – since it was his birth that triggered the soul’s release. What continued to confuse him was the open affection and trust they all showed in him. By rights they shouldn’t even want him around. He’d made a promise to himself that he’d do everything he could to protect his family – because that’s what they were – and never hesitate.

Janice sat down in the chair opposite his, dropping her books on the floor. “I swear to God they’re trying to make us robots.” When no one responded, she continued to rant, “Do you have any idea how much studying I have to do? This is so not fair.”

“It’s not just you, you know.” Lucas, who was sitting next to Connor, leaned back in his chair, tipping up the front legs. “We’re all stuck with the same amount of finals.”

Dawn sighed. “Hey, at least no summer school.”

“That is sooo sweet.” Janice smiled brightly, her eyes sweeping over Connor, then quickly away. “I really don’t wanna be stuck in summer school again, but I dunno if I’m gonna be able to skip it.”

Connor couldn’t help asking, “Why?”

Janice ducked her head, admitting with some embarrassment, “I’m failing English.”

A chorus of commiserating groans and grumbles greeted her statement, while Connor just stared at her. Not for the first time, he caught himself watching her. She was kind of pretty, with long, very dark red hair and warm brown eyes and Connor admitted to himself that she was just as pretty as Dawn, and their personalities weren’t all that dissimilar either. Janice didn’t have the air of grief that always surrounded Dawn, instead she was just a bit more adventurous, a bit bolder and able to persuade her best friend into doing or trying just about anything. At least, that seemed to be the case.

She was also the only person who kept Dawn from sinking into depression.

“I can help.” The words were out of his mouth before he realized it, and both girls stared at him, confusion clearly on their faces.

“You can?”

“Yeah, I just said so, didn’t I?” He shrugged, downplaying the offer as much as possible. “How bad is it?”

“Bad. I need to get an eighty-five on the final in order to just avoid summer school.”

Dawn cringed. “Ouch.”

“Yeah, tell me about it.” Janice groused, looking very dejected.

“When’s the test?”

“Monday.”

Thinking about it, Connor realized he would have to scramble a bit, but he figured with some help from either Wesley or Spike, he could manage it. “That gives us five days.”

Hope flared in her dark eyes. “You really think you can help?”

“Wouldn’t hurt to try, would it? He smiled at her, something he rarely did and he heard Dawn’s choked amusement, but didn’t react.

“Cool. When do you wanna start?”

“Today, after school.” He thought for a couple of minutes, then mumbled, “We should be able to get in a few hours at our house.”

“Sweet.” Janice dragged out the syllables, exaggerating her enthusiasm. “I can’t wait.”


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


As the morning progressed, Wesley’s thoughts focused more and more on what Willow had said earlier, his brain putting together all of the information they currently had. On a spur of the moment decision, he reached for the phone, intent on alerting Spike when Giles and Anya arrived, forestalling his actions.

“Good morning.”

When Wesley merely grunted something unintelligible in their direction, Giles and Anya exchanged concerned looks. “Wesley?”

“Mmmhhmm?” He answered with a distracted air, his attention back on one of the more disturbing printouts.

“Did something happen this morning?” Giles fixed him with an inquisitive look. “Wesley?”

Coming back to himself, Wesley looked up. “Take a look at this, Rupert.”

“What?” Giles took the paper, glancing at it quickly. When something on it caught his eye, he slowed down and read it more carefully. “Where did you get this?”

“Willow was here.” Wesley got up to pour himself another cup of tea, motioning to the papers scattered on the table. “She brought these. She was rather agitated and kept rambling on about how she tried to speak to a few of the others, sounding quite garbled and upset.”

“Where did she get these from?”

“Apparently Willow started working, in what capacity she did not say, with someone named Warren. I believe that name should mean something to you?” There was more than just mild curiosity in Wesley’s tone.

“Oh dear.” Giles sat down, leafing through some of the other papers. “Warren Meers is the boy who built the Buffybot for Spike.”

“Ah.” Wesley thought for a moment, sipping his tea. “That explains the expertise and some of the readouts.”

Anya listened to them for a moment, leaning over Giles to see the papers they were both commenting on. She pointed at one of them. “What is this for?”

“I believe that one is a seismograph reading for tectonic activity in and around the Hellmouth.”

“So what else is he doing?” Anya got right to the point, ignoring the papers.

“According to Willow, he planted the video surveillance and has been selling his information to the Council.”

The other two took the time to digest that information, sharing a look that spoke volumes. Giles removed his glasses, pinching the bridge of his nose, trying to stave off the headache that was beginning to blossom behind his eyes. Anya took one more look at the paperwork then walked purposefully toward the register.

It was very clear Anya wasn’t happy with the information Wesley imparted. She let the counter slap down heavily, the noise reminiscent of a gunshot. Silence reigned, punctuated only by the brief rustle of papers and metallic ringing of the cash register.

“Out with it.” Giles turned to face Anya, finally acknowledging her barely suppressed anger.

“He’s been spying on us.” Anya slammed the register closed. “For months.” She paused, her expression hardening. “He’s very lucky I’m not a vengeance demon anymore.”

Giles didn’t hesitate. “I know, dear.”

“You know you’re going to have a very angry vampire on your hands shortly.” He could hear the tap of her foot, finding it oddly comforting in the face of her fury.

“I know.” His voice held all the gravity he suddenly felt.

There was no telling what Spike would do once he learned the truth – even with the chip still embedded in his brain. It wasn’t a matter of when Spike would kill but in what ways and how – or rather – whom. Giles had sufficient trust that Spike wouldn’t rampage through Sunnydale, unlike another vampire. Buffy trusted him and Spike had more than earned their trust. But when faced with someone who threatened his family, Giles couldn’t imagine he’d hold back, nor did he expect him to.

In fact, it was the primary reason behind removing the chip.

Removing the chip would enable Spike to protect his family. Right now, it was imperative they somehow convince Finn and his cadre of Initiative soldiers that it was in their best interests to remove the chip. Though how they were going to accomplish that, Giles was completely at a loss. The Council appeared the bigger threat, given their propensity for exerting control over their Slayers. They weren’t likely to relinquish it now, even if Buffy refused to comply with their orders.

Spike had to be able to protect Buffy and their children from every threat, including human ones. Now that the Council was now aware of Buffy’s condition, it was only a matter of time before it was all over the underground, since there were demons who monitored Council communications. It had only been because of the presence of Faith and Spike, with some occasional assistance from other sources that they’d managed to keep the news of Buffy’s pregnancy from the demonic and magical communities.

“Have you called Spike yet?”

Once again Anya brought him back to practicalities. Giles looked to Wesley, who had the grace to look a bit sheepish. “I was about to call them when you came into the shop.”

“I’ll do it.” Giles got up, reaching for the phone.


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


He was dreaming, lulled into a restful state by the thumping heartbeats next to him. His dream was echoing the steady beat, and Spike knew he was dreaming. For some odd reason, his mother and Drusilla were having tea, and they were sitting beneath Roman ruins in a rainstorm. They were discussing people they’d known in common, which tipped him off about the state of his consciousness, and though it had him wondering why and trying, at the same time, to snap out of the dream and wake up, he found he couldn’t.

The two women were in front of him, profiles clear in the hazy gray light, and neither one made mention of the rain. A noise to his left drew his attention and Spike caught sight of Joyce, who was carrying a serving tray. It was the rain pinging off the silver that startled him and Spike tried again to wake himself up, to no avail.

Joyce walked past him, rainwater pooling in the tray and on the dishes, yet not soaking the cookies. She was softly humming an old lullaby, one that both his mother and Drusilla started singing as they recognized the tune. Their voices blended nicely, the harmonies pleasing to his ears. A small hand appeared on his shoulder, and Buffy’s whispered voice sounded against his neck. “They sound so nice. I wish I could keep them calm like that.”

He drew her hand forward, bushing a tender kiss into her palm. “You calm them in other ways, kitten. ‘S you they need most.”

“They need all of us.” She leaned into his back, her face resting against his shoulder. A deep sigh wafted from her. “Can we keep them safe?”

“We will.” Spike turned, drawing her over the low wall he was sitting on. She settled into his lap, her small form tucked close to him. “They sleeping?”

“They are now.” Buffy pointed over her shoulder. “See?”

Two ornate cradles, covered in copious amounts of white netting – one with pink bows and the other with fluttering blue ribbons – swayed gently in the breeze. By some twist of his dream, the cradles were shielded from the rain. “Right snug they are.”

“Like two itty bitty bugs.” Buffy giggled softly, her fingers tracing over his lips.

Thunder rolled in the distance, the rain pelting down harder. Giles appeared behind the cradles, a book and tea cup in his hands. “We’ve still got work to do. It isn’t all sunny skies and pork pies.”

“Pork pies? Who wants those?” But Buffy was licking her lips and a low rumbling emerged from her belly. She giggled again, the laughter making her eyes sparkle. “Oops, I guess that’s me. Will you fix me some pork and cherry pies?”

Spike felt his eyebrow raise and he knew disgust was written on his features. “You sure you want some of those?”

“Ahuh. I’m hungry.” She stirred in his arms, pushing away from his embrace. “Really. Please?” Buffy repeated herself a few times, until Spike realized she was really speaking and he wasn’t dreaming anymore.

“Spike, the phone’s ringing. And I’m hungry.” She poked his side, sleepy irritation clear in her tone. “C’mon, Spike, wake up.”

“Right, ‘m up, sweetheart. Stay put.” He climbed over her, reaching for the cordless phone that was on the coffee table. Spike grabbed it, turning it on and growling, “This better be worth disturbin’ my nap.”

“I believe it is, Spike.”

“Wonderful. What’s the situation now, Watcher?” Spike eased Buffy back down onto the couch as he perched on the table.

“Two odd occurrences this morning. Willow stopped by and passed on some information that might be of some interest.”

Spike dropped his head down, scratching his hairline. “And the other?”

“Riley ran into Xander.”

That was a surprise. “Thought Harris was leavin’ with the cheerleader?”

“He is. Cordelia’s being released today, so I can only assume Riley ran into Xander while he was preparing to leave.” Giles paused, waiting for Spike’s next comment.

“Right. So the soldier-boy was probably out, doin’ some scoutin’. ‘S great. Jus’ bloody fuckin’ wonderful.” He huffed out a breath, his eyes searching Buffy’s face for any sign of stress. Finding none, he hazarded a wry smile, which was answered when she reached for his free hand. “Any idea where the git is now?”

“None. I have placed calls to Lawson and some of the others, asking for them to keep an eye out and have whoever’s available start daylight surveillance on the Initiative and the Council.”

“Good. At least we’ll have somethin’ soon.” Spike asked Buffy a silent question, getting his response with an emphatic shake of her head. “Slayer says she wants everyone here before sundown. We need to make plans.”

Buffy rolled her eyes at him and held out her hand for the phone. “Hey, Giles.”

“Hello, Buffy. Did you hear what I just relayed to Spike?”

“Most of it.” She blew a kiss at Spike. “You do know we can’t leave the planning to Spike, so you have to make sure you get here before dinner.”

She giggled, as he groused in the background, watching him get to his feet. “Laugh it up, Slayer.”

“Oh, hey, Giles? Bring some Thai food, please?” She disconnected the phone, calling out softly, “Spike? You do know I was only teasing, right?”

He turned to look at her over his shoulder. “I know, kitten.”

“You’re not mad, are you?” She struggled to find a more comfortable position, wincing when her body didn’t contort the way she wanted it to. “Gimme a hand?”

He was at her side instantly, helping her balance and shift. “No, not mad. Jus’ plottin’ my revenge.” Spike dropped a kiss on her forehead then sauntered off into the kitchen. “You still hungry?”

“Yeah! Do we have any cherries?”




Happy Thanksgiving to all the yanks out there, and hey, guess what? all those wonderful reviews fed the muse (gah! I'm rhyming!) and there's almost another whole chapter already finished. Hopefully, I'll have it ready right after the holiday. Thanks to everyone! Nia