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Disclaimer: Drat, you've figured me out. I am Joss in disguise. Ha ha! Oh, wait, what's that? Well, my therapist is saying that no, I'm actually not Joss, and she needs to up my medication. Damn. "Breathe" is Faith Hill.

Rating: NC-17 (yeah, like that's a surprise with my fics…)

Summary: Buffy and Spike are expecting their first child and planning their wedding. What could make their lives even better? How about yet another apocalypse… (sequel to my fic "Daylight")

Spoilers: This takes place post-:"Chosen" and "Not Fade Away," so anything and everything.

Author's Note: This is the sequel to my fic "Daylight," and also ties in with my whole post-Chosen series. You don't necessarily have to read the rest of those to understand this, but it would probably help, since I have expanded the storyline past what was presented on the show. To find those fics in chronological order, go here: http://dark-desire.org/blood/subpages/post-chosen.html

Feedback and Archiving: I live for feedback, so send me lots. And I usually okay archiving, but if you haven't archived any of my fics before, please ask before you do. addie_logan@yahoo.com

Shameless Website Plug: For my other fics, go here: http://www.dark-desire.org/blood


*** *** ***

I can feel the magic floating in the air
Being with you gets me that way
I watch the sunlight dance across your face and I've
Never been this swept away

All my thoughts just seem to settle on the breeze
When I'm lying wrapped up in your arms
The whole world just fades away
The only thing I hear
Is the beating of your heart

'Cause I can feel you breathe
It's washing over me
Suddenly I'm melting into you
There's nothing left to prove
Baby all we need is just to be
Caught up in the touch
The slow and steady rush
Baby, isn't that the way that love's supposed to be
I can feel you breathe
Just breathe

In a way I know my heart is waking up
As all the walls come tumbling down
I'm closer than I've ever felt before
And I know
And you know
There's no need for words right now

'Cause I can feel you breathe…

*** *** ***

Prologue:

May 20, 2003

"Come on, Emma, you really don't have to do this."

Emma ignored her friend's pleas, not breaking her stride for a moment. "Have you seen your face, Katie? I think I kinda do."

"Bobby just got mad, Emma. He's not anymore. You know how me and him fight."

"I know how he beats on you, and it's time for it to end."

"Emma, please! He'll just hit you, too!" Katie tried to grab her, to make Emma stop, but she couldn't keep up.

"Yeah, well, I'm hoping I can get a few of my own in," Emma replied, making her way up the gravel walk and pounding on the door. "Open the hell up, Bobby! I know you're home!"

The door swung open, and Bobby looked down at her, a sleazy grin on his face. "Well, if it ain't just the classiest girl in this whole great state of Texas. To what do I owe this pleasure, Miss Rawlings?"

Emma decided the best answer she could give was her fist connecting with his face.

"You little bitch!" Bobby roared, wiping the blood off his mouth. "I'm gonna teach you some better manners than that, girl."

"What, like you taught Katie?"

"Woman oughta know her place." Bobby grabbed Emma by the arms, slamming her against the outside wall by the door. "And now you're gonna learn yours."

"No!" Katie yelled from behind them. "Bobby, let her go. She ain't got no part in this!"

"Shut up, Katie! You'll get yours next." Bobby raised one hand from Emma's arm, bringing it down across her cheek. When Emma responded by giving him a hard glare and spitting in his face, Bobby roared, throwing her back into the gravel.

Emma heard Katie scream, felt the gravel scrape her skin, and then…something. Like a click and then a surge of power. She could feel it flowing through her, connecting her to something that felt both new and familiar at the same time. She looked up at Bobby, a slow grin spreading across her bloodied face.

It looked like he was going to be the one learning the lesson…

*** *** ***

Chapter One

"You're being no help. Why do you do this? Do you like tormenting me?"

Spike looked up at the glaring Slayer, noting that the look on her face was one he hadn't seen much of since the days when they wanted to kill each other. "I told you my opinion, Buffy."

"You only said that because it's what I want!"

Spike stared at her for a moment in disbelief. "And this is bad because…"

"Because you're not taking an active role!" Buffy exclaimed, tossing the magazine she was holding to the ground.

"I am taking an active role. I'm actively telling you to go with the flower arrangements you like."

"Ah! You are just as bad at this as you were when we were under that spell!" Buffy stormed out of the living room, shutting herself in the bedroom with a loud slamming of the door.

Spike sighed, looking at the mess of bridal magazines and wedding how-to guides scattered on the floor. He'd thought Buffy had been a handful before… Spike was quickly learning that the only thing more difficult than a Slayer was a pregnant, hormonal Slayer planning her wedding. And honestly, how could him telling her to do what made her the happiest where their wedding was concerned be the wrong thing to do? He trusted her not to do anything completely insane, and it wasn't like the little details of the day really mattered anyway.

What mattered was what the day meant. He and Buffy were making a public statement of their relationship. From this point on, there'd be no more lies and secrets, no more hiding what they felt. They were going to be married—were going to be parents. That's what was important to him. Not whether or not the bridesmaids wore cerulean of aquamarine…

A loud and persistent beating at the door pulled Spike back to the present moment and he cursed under his breath as he went to answer it. He found an angry-looking teenaged girl he assumed to be one of the way too many Slayers mulling about. "What?" he snapped, far from in the mood.

The girl seemed unphased by his gruffness. "I wanted to talk to Buffy," she said.

Spike glanced back towards the bedroom door. "She's, uh, not available right now," he replied. There was no way he was going into that room with the mood she was in…

The girl put her hands on her hips. "Then can you do something about this?"

"About what?" Spike asked.

"My roommate is playing her music too loudly and won't turn it down."

Spike's scarred eyebrow rose slowly. What did he look like, the den mother? Sometimes he seriously questioned his sanity when he agreed to Buffy's plan of moving here to help oversee the training of the new Slayers. "Can't you just go somewhere else?"

"It's my room, too, and I'm not leaving because she doesn't know how to play well with others," the girl snapped in response. "And she's breaking the rules."

"Can't have that," Spike muttered. With a resigned sigh, he followed the girl towards her room. He knew if you'd told him not too long ago that someday he'd be playing hall monitor for a bunch of Slayers, he would've laughed. Now that that day was a reality, however, it didn't seem as funny as it once could have been.

There's no point in asking you'll get no reply
Oh just remember I don't decide
I got no reason it's too all much
You'll always find us out to lunch

He could hear the music long before they reached the girl's door, and Spike figured that would've been possible even without his superior hearing. The walls were reverberating…

But in his opinion, the Sex Pistols were supposed to be played at that volume. Didn't this girl know anything?

Oh we're so pretty
Oh so pretty we're vacant
Oh we're so pretty
Oh so pretty we're vacant
Ah but now and we don't care

"See!" the girl shouted, pointing towards a closed door. "She's been doing this all afternoon. Make her stop."

Spike couldn't believe this was actually happening to him. He'd signed up to teach these girls how to fight, not to commit such crimes as telling someone to turn off the Sex Pistols. But the girl beside him looked about ready to kill something, and despite the fact she was far from his Slayer, she was still a Slayer. Best not to piss her off. He knocked as loudly as he could, hoping he could be heard over the music.

Apparently he could, because a few moments later, a young woman opened the door and leaned casually against it. Her dark brown hair was streaked with red, orange, and hot pink, and she was wearing a t-shirt from a tour the Clash went on probably long before she was born. "What seems to be the problem, officer?" she asked with wide eyes that seemed anything but innocent.

"You know what the problem is," the other girl snapped. "Your music is too loud. He wants you to turn it off."

In all honesty, that was the last thing Spike wanted. He peered into the room, noting the marked contrast between the two sides. It wasn't hard to guess who had put up the scarily-large poster of the vapid pop star that seemed to dominate the space. He shivered to think about having to live in a room with that thing watching you all the time. Made him pity the brightly-tressed Slayer.

"Right, the music," Spike said quickly, his mind made up on how he was going to handle this. If he were lucky, them maybe he could use it to solve another problem he was having, too. "It's entirely too loud. And it's quite clear from your appearance that you're incapable of ever being a good roommate to anyone. Pack your things. I'm going to have to move you into a private room."

"What!" the first girl yelled. "She gets a private room? That's so unfair! She can't get a private room for breaking the rules. Besides, I've been here way longer."

"Yes, but you're the one who is able to behave properly in society," Spike said. "You, Rude Girl, get your stuff together and then come down to my apartment. You know where that is?"

"Yeah. You're General Buffy's fiancé, right?"

Spike suppressed a snort of laughter. General Buffy? That's what they called her? "Uh, yeah. That's me. Be there when you're ready to move."

"You got it."

"Good." Spike walked away from the two Slayers, whistling to himself as he ignored how the first one was glaring at his retreating form.

*** *** ***

Buffy was out in the living room when Spike came back to their apartment, and it was obvious from her face that she'd been crying. "Where'd you go?" she asked softly, looking up at him with wide, red-rimmed eyes.

"Couple of the Slayers were having a row. Had to mediate."

Buffy sniffed. "I came out, and you'd left, and I thought I'd made you mad, and…" Buffy trailed off, bursting into tears again.

Spike rushed over to the couch, sitting beside Buffy and wrapping his arms around her. "Shh. Wasn't leaving you, kitten. Never would. Love you."

Buffy pulled up, wiping her eyes. "I know. I'm just such a wreck. My moods are all over the place, I'm so tired, and morning sickness—really a misnomer. Should be like all-the-time sickness."

Spike ran his hand over her hair. "I know, baby. But I'm right here for you, anything you need."

"I know." Buffy moved closer to him again, resting her head on his shoulder. "And I'm sorry about earlier. I know you weren't trying to be disagreeable."

"Yeah, with the whole me agreeing with you and all…"

Buffy sighed. "I know. I'm just afraid that you don't really want any of the stuff you're saying you do, and then the day will come, and you'll hate everything and be all miserable."


"Buffy…" Spike took her chin in his hand, tilting her face up so she was looking at him. "Hey. Me miserable? On our wedding day? Not possible. I'm going to be marrying the woman I love. No place for misery in that, pet. Doesn't matter to me what sort of flower arrangements there are or if we serve chicken or fish at the reception. Because when it's all said and done, you're going to be my wife."

Buffy stared at him silently for a moment before the crying started anew. "Did I say something wrong?" Spike asked, his brow wrinkling.

"No. You said something right." Buffy threw her arms around him.

"So happy tears then." Spike croaked, suddenly missing the days when he didn't have to breathe.

"Happy tears," Buffy replied, her grip on him loosening.

Spike pressed a kiss against her hair. "Good."

"I love you," Buffy said, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Love you, too," Spike replied, content to have her there in his arms.

*** *** ***

Okay, I promised you a sequel to Daylight, and here it is. Please, review and let me know you're onboard with this.





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