You guys have all been so great, I can't thank you all enough. If I were to list everyone who reviewed the last two chapters it would take up all my space, but something tells me you'd rather have the story. (I hope). I'm kind of nervous about this one, so please, let me know what you think.
[A/N: This is moving much quicker than I had expected, which I suppose is a good thing, since this is going to be rather busy. . . er, full of action? Yeah, that sounds better. Anyway, the title is from a duet sung by Maire Ni Bhraonain of Clannad and Bono from that other Irish band (the one just inducted into the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame) and appears on the Clannad album Macalla. The song is entitled In a Lifetime and gods above its just gorgeous. Go, download it now, its worth the listen, trust me. The quotes are as attributed. Disclaimers in full force and effect.]
Previously: Buffy had a slayer dream, Spike’s recovery is moving forward, due mostly to his ingestion of Buffy’s blood. Wesley, Tara and Dawn are talking about getting supplies. This picks up where we left everyone.
Book Two, Chapter 10. A light shines in you
I will not ask from you
anything that you were not capable of giving
I would not ask from you
anything but that which I truly need
and I would not take from you
without giving equal value in return
Javan, Footprints in the Mind
And as the rain (begin again)
falls heavy in my heart (as the storm breaks through)
believe the light (so the light shines)
in you (in you)
(without color, faded and worn)
torn asunder in the storm (torn asunder in the storm)
(unless the sound)
(save your body’s soul)
(Unless it disappears)
first the thunder (selfish storm)
then the storm (cold on the inside)
torn asunder (one life)
in the storm (in the storm)
in a lifetime
Clannad with Bono, In a Lifetime
Oz woke up just after Buffy had gone back upstairs and he’d been enlisted to help them get all the necessary supplies. His van was empty, except for the two seats in the front, and it would enable them to make one trip for everything, instead of having to use both the DeSoto and Angel’s convertible. Having been brought up to speed about what was left of the day’s prospects, Oz characteristically remained mostly silent throughout Tara’s list of things to do, only speaking once to say, “how soon do we leave?”
Which was answered by Dawn, “as soon as you’re ready.”
“Then let’s go.” Oz fished his keys from his pocket and dangled them in the air. “Where too first?”
“The mall, we need supplies for the baby and Wes.” Tara answered.
“So we go from there to get the stuff from the Magic Box and then we need to go to Giles’ to get more weapons.” Dawn’s voice sounded from the hallway closet as she grabbed a light jacket.
Tara headed up the stairs with the baby, calling down, “I’ll be right back.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Spike woke to the sound of Buffy’s voice singing lullabies softly in the very late afternoon light. He had no idea how long he’d been asleep this time but he felt much better. His headache was mostly gone now just a fuzzy dull ache in the back of his head. One leg was relatively pain free and his ribs felt like they were all healed. A smile graced his features, listening to Buffy’s singing, and he stretched gingerly, taking care not to disrupt his healing bones.
Buffy looked up from the chair and he realized why she was singing. “Somethin’ you wanna tell me kitten?”
Her smile was blinding and he almost looked around to see who else she might be looking at. “Buffy?”
“Hey you. How’re you feeling?” She got up from the chair, lifting the infant in her arms to her shoulder, walking over the bed.
“Better. Who’s this then?” Spike watched her carefully.
“Wesley brought him. You want the good news or the bad news first?” She laid down next to him, the infant between them, waiting his response.
“Does it matter?” He wasn’t quite sure what was going on here and was feeling completely confused.
“Nope” her voice was quiet, mindful of the baby sleeping between them, “not much is good.”
“Tell me then.” He shifted, trying to get more comfortable, moving almost onto his mostly uninjured side to face her. “This Angel’s sprog?”
Her hand brushing over the baby’s back, Buffy looked at him, a little laugh in her voice, “if by that you mean if this is his son, that’s what Wesley said.” Sobering quickly, she continued, “Wes also said he’s lost his soul and Darla is dust.”
“Fuck.” Spike knew this was worse than he’d expected. “Gimme the rest of the news love.”
“I’m not sure this rest is really news. Oz was with Tara last night,” and at his raised eyebrow she giggled, “don’t think it was like that you pig. Do you remember what happened?” At his nod, she continued, “Kirsten is gone. She slipped out while everyone was asleep and Dawn was in here with us. She fought last night.”
“Yeah I seem to remember that. Chit saved me, did she?” Looking at her closely, he said, “thought she was you at first. She reminded me of you the first time I saw her.”
“She’s too strong to be just a regular girl. She fought off almost six knights before I got there.” Buffy’s face took on a pensive look. “Could she be like me? Maybe a could-be-slayer?”
“Dunno pet. She’s somethin’ else, dunno if its that, or” he hesitated, trying to find the words for what his brain was thinking, “she sounded like you, not just . . . somethin’ ‘bout her, love.”
“Well she was here, until sometime this morning.” Buffy watched his face for signs of fatigue and pain. “Are you feeling any better?”
“Yeah. Head’s not so fuzzy. Fractures are doin’ better.” The baby mewled, drawing their attention away from Spike’s injuries, “Sprog have a name?”
Buffy looked up, a horrified yet amused look in her eyes, “I didn’t. . . oh my god. . . what kind of . . . I never even asked. How horrible am I?”
Spike grinned at her, a laugh threatening in his eyes, “pro’ly jus’ slipped your mind. We’ll jus’ call him Sprog for now.”
Buffy had looked back down at the baby, missing the laughter in his eyes but at his words, she gasped, saying, “Spike we can’t . . that’s”. She shifted her gaze to look at him, only then realizing he was teasing her. “Not funny Spike.”
“Yeah it is. Peaches’ get w’out a proper name, leavin’ it for me to do.” Spike’s eyes gleamed with further mischief, “think I’ll call ‘im Spawn.”
“What? That’s . . . why would you call him Spawn?”
“Cause he’s Spawn of Angelus and Darla.” He tried holding back his mirth, but it was impossible. “What else could he be?”
Buffy finally responded to the teasing glint in his eye, giggling softly along with him. “So not nice Spike.”
“‘m evil, love. Can’t expect better from me.”
She ignored his statement instead focusing on the baby sleeping between them. Her hand smoothed down his back, running over his head. She could smell his scent from where she was . . . he smelled so sweet. A wave of longing unexpectedly surged through her, catching her off guard. Buffy fought the tears, hiding her expression from Spike, not wanting him to think the tears were because this was Angel’s son. That was something she almost didn’t care about. It was just the fact of a baby, and them, lying in this bed, that was enough to cause the longing. She had no idea where the emotion had even come from, but suddenly it was there, clawing in her throat. Trying to hide the tears, she sighed, shifting closer to the two of them.
But Spike was watching her closely, knew when she started to fight tears, knew when her breathing hitched. He thought he had an idea what was running through her mind, but was afraid to call attention to it. This was Angel’s son after all, the child of her first love, and the one thing she’d never expected to see. Part of him hoped that it was just a baby she was reacting to, and it would have happened with any baby, but a bigger part of him was convinced the tears were because it was Angel’s. He gingerly rolled onto his back, grimacing with pain and emotions he didn’t want to face.
Her hand reached out to touch his face, running over his cheekbones and down along his jaw line. The tension and pain that had bloomed with his movements eased with her touch and he closed his eyes both to hide from her concern and from the emotions swirling between them.
Spike wanted to mark her as his in so many ways that the sheer number was staggering. He wanted to bite her, claiming her as his, he wanted to brand himself into her soul so that long after he was dust and she was gone, they would still be bound. He wanted to be so indelibly marked on her that everyone, demon, hellspawn, human, everyone she came into contact with would know that she belonged to him. He wanted it with a presence that was as real as the miraculous infant sleeping between them. He wanted that baby . . . to be theirs. Wanted to see her . . . gods she was sunshine and light now . . he couldn’t imagine how much more incandescent she would be.
Her warm hand stopped moving just over the spot where his heart used to beat, pushing aside the sheet that covered his skin. His good hand came up to capture hers despite his brain’s inclination to keep some distance between them at this moment.
He’d gotten his crumbs.
He’d gotten more.
Now he wanted everything.
Spike stopped breathing, when her fingers ghosted once more over his lips, her words a breath in the air between them. “Should be ours.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Once at the mall, Wesley had handed Tara a stack of bills, saying, “I’ve got more if you need it.” Then they’d split up, Dawn trailing after Tara and the guys going off together.
They made short work of the mall excursion knowing that time was now their single biggest enemy. While Angelus might have temporarily been slowed by the breaking of his leg, none of them was willing to take the chance of being caught outside without some more substantial form of protection than what they had now.
The trip from the mall to the Magic Box was undertaken in silence, each one of them lost in their own thoughts. Dawn and Oz were the only two with first hand knowledge of what Angelus was capable of, but both Wesley and Tara had heard the tales. Wesley also had read the Watcher’s Journals, and his mind was grimly focused on going over Angelus’ weaknesses, if there were any.
Dawn sat in the back, her legs crossed, going through some of the baby things she and Tara had picked up. They’d gotten the basics, plus another package of diapers and a case of formula, and Dawn had insisted on one little extra. There was a blue baby blanket that she’d thought was just adorable and had quietly whined until Tara gave in and allowed her to throw it in their basket. She was holding it now, running her fingers over the satin edges, hoping that everything was fine at home. And also hoping that the baby’s father stayed far, far away.
Tara was running through more of the practical things that were going to be needed, extra food, formula, diapers, the supplies from the Magic Box and any thing else to keep her mind on the present and not worry about what might be coming for them in the next few nights. She had no real comprehension of what Angelus was capable of, had only one thing really to balance against it, and from what little she had gathered, Angelus was on a Glory-level of badness. And that was bad.
Just how bad she almost was afraid to ask.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
She couldn’t possibly have said what he’d thought she said. Spike kept his eyes closed afraid to make a sound. Well, Buffy had always had the ability to render him speechless and senseless. Her fingers were back on his chest and he could feel her eyes on his profile.
Buffy was equally stunned. She hadn’t meant to just blurt that out. Hadn’t meant to say that out loud at least. Not that she didn’t mean it – because she did – but more because she was afraid he felt differently. A baby. . . . their baby would prove to him that she felt just as strongly as he did. But if he didn’t want that . . . she just knew that it would be one more way to bind themselves together. One more thing to make him want to stay and never leave her.
The enormity of what he’d done last night, fighting off humans to save her sister, wasn’t lost on her. He’d known, going into the fight that he was going up against something he couldn’t fight and still he hadn’t hesitated, apparently hadn’t even thought to do otherwise. It was just further solidification for her that his feelings ran very deeply both for herself and Dawn. Maybe she should just tell him what that meant to her. Try to tell him how she was feeling, what she was feeling. Could. . . she actually say the words? Or would that be the end for them? Would he disappear . . . not because he wanted to but because that was just what happened when she loved someone? Could she take the risk?
Did she trust him enough with her heart?
His chest was warm beneath her hand, stealing heat from her, solid and strong. Even without the beat, just being close to him was comforting, was . . . safe. There was safety in his arms, safety knowing he was with her. She’d already faced that, accepted that, known that. He’d taken the leap before her, placed his unbeating heart in her hands, laid it out and given it to her. Trusted her with his love. And that was no small thing. Not something to be sloughed off and made light of, it was as big a deal as her . . . loving him back. To love her, to be with her, he’d turned his back on everything he was, everything that made him what he was.
Spike was a demon. No soul like Angel to set him apart, nothing but his own sheer force of will, from other demons. Pure, unadulterated demon. And yet he walked that shadowy place between light and dark far better than Angel ever had. He fought beside her for the best of reasons, for truly the only reason there was to fight. Spike fought for love. Because he loved.
And the chip? The chip was nothing more than a piece of hardware designed to stop him from hurting humans. The chip didn’t stop him from ordering minions around, didn’t stop him from getting other demons to do his bidding. And the chip sure as hell didn’t direct him to take a beating to protect Dawn – take two beatings. Neither did the chip make him go out and patrol for her, all summer when she was gone and then again recently, before she was ready to do it on her own. The chip was just a hindrance. Last night, had the chip not been there, she wouldn’t have had to worry so much, wouldn’t have had that fear choking her the entire night. He’d have been able to fight off the humans, and those humans? She so wouldn’t have minded if he’d killed more than the couple he did. She would have been happy if he’d killed them all.
Giles said he trusted Spike with or without the chip. Could she do any less? How silly was it that she slept beside him and pretend that she didn’t trust him. She let him bite her . . . and there’d been no question of him hurting her, but he could still drain her – every single time he bit. But he didn’t. He always stopped himself, usually long before she thought he was done. Even earlier this morning, Spike hadn’t taken alot. He’d taken barely enough to start his healing.
He fought her battles because he loved her. Not because it was expedient to do so, not because it served his purposes, but for one simple reason – her. He loved her. Told her so all the time – showed it, god how he showed it, every day. Some days, like yesterday, and was it really only yesterday? He more than proved it.
Sure he didn’t always have the best of ways to show it, at least not in the very beginning, that moment when he’d tied up her and Drusilla, in an effort to make her see that something was brewing between them, always came to mind. And she’d thrown it back in his face, told him the only time he’d had a chance was when she was unconscious. And he’d begged for something, a crumb. . . well, she’d given him crumbs. Given him cookies, cakes, sweets, whatever it was he’d been asking for a crumb of. . . But now there was so much more.
The words ached to be said, caught in her throat, choking her with their intensity. Her fingers flexed on his chest and his came up to entangle with hers. A soft smile graced her features as she realized he always instinctively knew just what she needed, sometimes, even before she herself knew it. His eyes were closed, the dark lashes resting against his pale cheeks, only the slight tensing of his muscles there an indication that he was still awake and not sleeping. He’d been uncharacteristically silent for a long time, far longer than she’d ever imagined he could be in a moment like this. Buffy watched his face, almost amazed at this man, and yes he was a man, who gave everything for her.
Taking a deep breath and more than aware she was about to make the biggest leap of faith in her life, even counting the jump from Glory’s tower, Buffy tried to get the words out. She was more afraid of this . . . of admitting her feelings than she was of facing down an entire nest of vampires, or a swarm of fyarls. Maybe. . . she could build up to it. Tell him . . just. . . “Spike.”
He angled his head toward her, looking at her from beneath his lashes, his eyes hidden from her. “I was so scared last night. . . didn’t. . . I don’t know what I’d have done if . . you had. . . “ her voice broke, the harsh whisper full of unshed tears. “And you were all broken. . . but at least you weren’t gone. Were still with me.”
Opening his mouth to speak, Spike felt her fingers cross his lips, holding his words silent. “Wait, please? Let me try.” Gathering her courage, Buffy cleared her throat, swallowing back the tears that kept threatening, “I need you so much, can’t do this alone. Don’t know how to do this alone anymore.”
Spike was watching her now, his eyes wide open and concerned, focused on her. Her eyes were a brilliant green, shot with gold and silver, and he was lost in them. His lips pursed against her fingers in a kiss and her answering smile was radiant. Her eyelids fluttered closed, then opened again, “Spike . . . you . . . you.”
“Shhh, kitten.”
Shaking her head again, Buffy whispered, “my heart Spike. . . its . . . in your hands.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Anya was on the phone with Giles when the group walked into the Magic Box. Wesley was the first in the door and he mumbled a greeting at the former demon. Motioning him over, Anya said, “Wesley just walked in now.”
She handed him the phone and faced the other three, taking in their drawn and tired expressions. With characteristic bluntness, she launched right into her concerns, “you all look like crap. Rupert said that I should make sure you have everything you need and that I’m not to charge you. I want you to know,” as she huffed somewhat indignantly, “that since its so important I was going to give you a discount. We can’t possibly make a profit this week if I give you everything for free.”
Tara and Dawn shared an amused look, while Oz tried to figure out what whirlwind he’d just walked into. This was like old times gathered around the library, and he was struck with a sense of deja vu. There were a few new faces and some missing from the old days, but the situation was, ironically enough, quite similar to what used to happen when they were in high school.
The girls knew Anya was just blustering, but sometimes she could be shrill and a bit off-putting, especially if you didn’t know her all that well. Tara walked over to Oz, whispering, “she’s like this sometimes, you just have to get used to her.”
Despite the former demon’s protests otherwise, both girls knew that she’d give them whatever they needed, even without Giles’ say so. This was an emergency and Anya never really quibbled about those.
Anya walked over to where Dawn was sitting at the table, then sat down beside her. Dawn was playing with one of the books that had been left out, not really focused on what was in her hands. “Dawn?”
When the younger girl glanced in her direction, Anya continued, “you do know that unless you use a stake or cut off their heads, vampires always recover. Eventually.”
“I know that.” She knew Anya was just trying to be comforting and helpful, but she really wasn’t being either of those things. Dawn looked away, then mumbled, “its all my fault anyway.”
“Because?” Anya had heard her, despite Dawn’s efforts to not be heard.
“Because I’m who I am. Because I’m the Key.” Dawn slammed the book down, then got to her feet to escape from Anya’s pointed questions. “Its all been my fault. All of this.”
Dawn headed for the training room, tears threatening, when Wesley hung up the phone and cut her off. “Dawn.”
“Leave me alone Wes. Just . . don’t.” He’d reached out a hand to stop her forward movement but she pushed him off.
The adults watched her go, none of them sure of what to say. Tara turned to Anya, about to say something, when she caught the look on the other girl’s face and realized there was nothing she could say to Anya. There were tears in Anya’s eyes and it was obvious whatever had transpired between the two struck a chord with Anya. “She thinks its all her fault.”
“Her fault?” Tara and Wesley spoke at the same time.
“That’s what she said. That its because she’s the Key.” Anya’s answer was muffled.
Before Tara could react, Wesley was at the door to the training room, listening intently for any sounds from within. Motioning the others to quiet, Wesley opened the door and stuck his head in. Dawn was huddled on the couch, curled up on herself, crying softly.
He slipped into the room, watching her intently, “Dawn?”
“Leave me alone.” She said from behind clenched teeth, her hands fisted against her knees, her shoulders hunched over. “Just go away.”
“Dawn.” Wesley was at something of a loss. He wasn’t sure how to approach this, but part of him wanted to try. He liked Dawn and didn’t want her blaming herself for all of this, even one tiny little bit of it. “Let me ask you a question. Angel’s lost his soul, because of the baby’s presence. Granted the baby doesn’t know that now, but do you think that when he gets older he’ll feel any differently than you do at this moment?”
She didn’t say anything. He wasn’t even certain she was even listening to him. Wesley shoved his hands down into his jeans pockets, waiting for her to respond. Shifting his gaze about, Wesley took in all the equipment around him. This really was a remarkable set up that Giles had going. The shop out front was definitely pulling in a nice little profit, given the number of customers that had been leaving when they arrived, and this room was simply marvelous. Attention caught by the knives on display over Dawn’s head, Wesley almost didn’t hear her response to his question.
“Would you tell him that? Would you tell that little baby that he’s the reason why everything went wrong in his life? That his mother killed herself so that he could be born and that other people died so he could live?” Dawn couldn’t look up at Wesley, didn’t even want to be having this conversation with anyone, much less him.
“I don’t know.” He sighed a little, absently kicking the couch, then walked about the room, his attention on the things around him, but his focus definitely on her. “You see, he’s really innocent. He didn’t ask to be brought into this situation, it just sort of happened that way.”
He paused, trying to gather his thoughts on the matter, “much like you. You didn’t ask to be brought into this situation and you don’t have control over every factor that causes these results. You and Connor are only,” and he paused again, trying to be logical and yet sympathetic at the same time, “perhaps pawns is not the best word, but it’s the only one I can think of at the moment.”
Dawn sniffled at bit, wiping her eyes with one hand. She looked at Wesley, seeing how hard he was trying to balance the equation for her, help her understand it all and perhaps put it into perspective and she was grateful for his logical side at the moment, because she couldn’t deal with emotions. “Still. Doesn’t mean I’m not gonna feel guilty about it. Spike wouldn’t have gotten hurt. . . if I was just nothing special.”
“You can’t know that. Something else might have occurred to put you in harm’s way and Spike would have gotten hurt just as badly. Something else might have happened to cause Angel to lose his soul.” Wesley was facing her now, watching her every move. “We can’t be certain of the future. Nor can we blame ourselves for everything that happens around us.”
Wesley moved closer to her, scrunching down on his haunches to look in her eyes. “And Dawn,” he said, reaching for her hands, “I really don’t think Spike would want you to do this to yourself.”
She shook her head in agreement, “he already said . . . “ and her tears fell on their joined hands, “he already said. . . that he loves me. And . . . and that it wasn’t my fault.”
“He’s not the type to lie. He meant what he said Dawn.” His arm came around her awkwardly, then he helped her to her feet, continuing, “and I don’t think he’d want us wasting time worrying about things over which we have no control.”
He hugged her once, then waited while she wiped her eyes and they moved back into the shop area. Wesley hoped to hell and back that Spike would be up and around soon, because he didn’t relish facing Angelus on his own with a distracted Slayer and precious little other back-up.
Please, let me know what you think . . . .
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