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Buffy nodded warily, and Spike reached out one finger and gently lifted up on the corner of his daughter's upper lip. A slow smile of pride worked its way onto his face before he spoke.

"Well, I'll be damned. She's got my fangs."

Giles slumped back against the seat wearily. "Oh good lord."
****
      Spike couldn't quite keep the satisfied smirk off of his face as he watched the miracle of Mother Nature at work. Well, with a little extra zing, at any rate. Tiny little teeth that seemed to serve no other purpose than to jab into the tender flesh of Buffy's spectacular tit. His smile broadened as he once again raised the corner of his daughter's mouth, wanting to see those beauties for himself once more.

"Ok, I just have to say it. These things are absolutely the most adorable thing I have ever seen," Spike commented smugly, knowing he sounded like a true git. But the sight of those tiny shards of pearl poking through baby pink gums just made him... giddy. And it further validated that he was indeed responsible for this utter miracle that was snuggly wrapped in a second hand blanket.

"Adorable for you, maybe," Buffy grumbled with little heat, turning her head to shoot him an indignant look. "You're not the one being chewed on."

"Oh, piffle." Spike waved off her complaint good-naturedly. "She's not even breaking the skin. Or trying to. She just has these cute little fangs... did you see them? They're bloody priceless."

"So you keep saying," Buffy complained wearily, finding herself undisturbed by the fact that she had given birth to a daughter with very defined incisors. There would be more time for reflection on that significance later, Buffy decided, as she shifted around to gain a more comfortable position on the floor of the truck, not even noticing when Spike moved to take the full brunt of her weight. Fatigue was becoming a battle that she could no longer fight and expect to come out the victor, as lethargy unlike any she had ever experienced fully overwhelmed her. Everything was tired. She would bet that even her hair was tired, if such a thing were possible. And her weariness seemed to have little regard for the baby biting her boob, or the truck that continued to bounce along a seemingly unending road.

"Go to sleep," Spike uttered softly, trailing his index finger gently down a cheek that was much too pale. "I'll watch over the two of you."

"I know you will," Buffy mumbled instinctively before succumbing to the inevitable, her head dropping back unexpectedly against the pillow of his chest and her body abruptly becoming lax. The steady thump of her heart and her deep, even breathing were the only things that gave Spike any measure of comfort that this abrupt transition was merely a deep sleep Buffy had fallen victim to rather than anything of a more serious nature.

As gravity caused Buffy's arms to fall to the side, Christine's own capable hands were there in an instant to keep the nursing newborn in place; preventing a disturbance in the first feeding process, if not an outright fall to the hard floor.

"Thanks," Spike muttered, flashing her a grateful smile.

Christine shrugged uncomfortably, not accustomed to being acknowledged for her troubles. "Yeah, well, don't really want to listen to that shrill shrieking again," she returned quietly with a small grin. "What's her name, anyway?"

"Don't know."

"What do you mean you don't know?" Christine asked, aghast. And just when she was beginning to think he was ok for a vampire.

"We'd just found out she was a girl, you know. Right before they got us. Hadn't had time to suss it out yet," Spike admitted. "Figured we'd have time to talk it over."

"Oh." Christine appeared thoughtful as she gazed down into the sleepy features of the baby that had already inadvertently been the cause of so much death and chaos. Fangs or no, she was just an innocent in all of this, and Christine felt another round of tears pricking at the edges of her vision as an unfamiliar feeling of protectiveness grew within her. She was meant to die at the hands of the very vampire whose daughter Christine now held against her friend’s body, and yet here she was. Alive.

No thanks to the very military institution she had pledged her life to serve... and the more she thought about their duplicity, the more it just plain pissed her off.

Yeah, she knew where her loyalties lay. And for the first time in her military career, going AWOL didn't seem as unfathomable a reality as it had previously.

Luckily, a concerned voice coming from the occupant of the driver's seat broke the spell of her increasingly irate inner tirade. "Hey, is Buffy doing ok?"

Taking a deep breath to calm down and clear her head of lingering anger over her country's betrayal, Christine waited for Spike to answer the question. Rather than a response, however, the question merely garnered an irritated scowl sent over his shoulder and a muttered 'wanker'.

Not even wanting to question the apparent animosity, Christine took it upon herself to answer. "Seems to be. She's sleeping." Out of habit, she glanced up into the rear view mirror as she spoke, only to be brutally reminded that a reflection was not going to be found. Now, she couldn't help but wonder what the other vampire looked like, only able to see a portion of his profile from her position on the floor. Mostly she saw a wall of brown hair and a forehead and not much else.

Turning her attention back to the task at hand, Christine discovered that the baby with no name seemed to have headed in the same direction as her mother; the tiny bud mouth now slack with all signs of nursing ceased. Drawing her away gently, Christine couldn't help but snicker at the tiny indentions left on either side of Buffy's areola; thinking they looked more like the marks of an overzealous kitten than a baby of questionable demonic attributes.

"See? You think it's cute too," Spike announced as Christine pulled the tweed jacket that still adorned Buffy's torso up to restore some semblance of modesty.

Christine couldn't quite wipe the cheesy smile off of her face. "Ok, ok. You're right. It's cute. Her powder-puff fangs are cute."

"Hey Christine, you want some of this beef jerky?" Xander called back, thrusting a bag back in her direction. "Even Dorkhead Driving likes it."

Snickering at the accompanying pained sigh that she was coming to learn was standard issue for the other vampire, Christine did not hesitate to take Xander up on the offer. "Yeah, thanks. I'm starving," she answered truthfully, handing Spike the burden of his daughter as she leaned over to grab the bag dangling just out of reach.

Settling himself as comfortably as he could, Spike hugged his child close with his one free arm, pressing a light kiss to her soft cheek as he watched her sleep, a genuine look of awe settling on his own exhausted features.

*****
It was an odd sight.

A notoriously ruthless and evil vampire, tenderly holding his newborn child securely in one arm, while the other was wrapped protectively around the baby's mother, who was also sleeping deeply against him; both completely vulnerable to any potential attack. That the girl happened to be a slayer, bent on destroying his kind, seem inconsequential.

And yet nobody felt the need to intervene. There was no necessity that required them to save the lives of the two females nestled in the deadly vampire's embrace.

The watchers studied the trio before them, mentally cataloguing each look, each gesture. Both coming to terms with what had been set in motion by the secret branch of the military who had mucked around with demons, genetics and DNA. Yet, at this moment, observing this wondrous outcome, neither could feel much trepidation. Even the confirmation that the child had received at least some of her father's demonic DNA refused to bring about the level of panic that it truly might deserve.

And as much as their stringent backgrounds and ingrained beliefs tried interfering and telling them otherwise, neither Travers and Giles could deny the obvious.

The birth of this baby made their slayer and the vampire a family.

Never believing that such revelations would ever be made and doing their best to come to terms with it, the watchers continued to study the scene before them; noting when Spike's head tipped back and his eyelids slid shut for just a moment, obviously in danger of forfeiting on his promise to watch over Buffy and their child as they slept.

The quiet that settled became almost uncomfortable, and it was a relief when the vampire finally broke the silence, still appearing as if he had also succumbed to exhaustion.

"So, what's the plan now?"

A spark of irritation shot through Travers, having already covered that aspect of the journey. "Well, as I previously mentioned, we will be met by a team from the Council and be under armed escort back to Council headquarters."

The brilliant blue eyes that Travers suddenly found cast in his direction caused an instinctive shiver to roll down his spine, the sheer intensity of that piercing gaze frightening.

"And what of me?"

"I beg your pardon?" Travers was confused and more than a bit wary.

Spike cocked his head in silent challenge, keeping his penetrating stare on the man he was being forced to trust.

"Are your men going to greet me with open arms, eh? Or is my reception going to involve the sharp end of a stake?"





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