Unexpected Universe: Can't Buy Me Love by Passion4Spike
Summary: A continuation of the AU Series "Unexpected". If you haven't read the first part, this won't make much sense. Check under 'Series' to see the whole AU story.



As Buffy settles back into life after the 'Wish World' and gets ready for a new addition to their family, an old friend pulls the financial rug out from under their fairly comfortable life. They also find that something from Spike's old life isn't as they thought. Will they end up sacrificing the littlest bit or even their own lives in an effort to make an old wrong right?



Warnings for sexual situations, implied rape of a minor (not graphic), violence, torture, bloodshed, character death, and what was the other thing? ... oh yeah, angst. I'm rating this as AO mainly because of the implied rape of a minor ... it is NOT graphic.
Categories: NC-17 Fics Characters: None
Genres: Action, Angst, Horror, Romance
Warnings: Adult Language, Character Death, Child Abuse, Rape, Sexual Situations, Violence
Challenges:
Series: Unexpected Universe by Passion4Spike
Chapters: 58 Completed: Yes Word count: 368964 Read: 199627 Published: 09/15/2011 Updated: 02/04/2012

1. I Love You This Big by Passion4Spike

2. Come and Get It by Passion4Spike

3. Ordinary Miracle by Passion4Spike

4. Hard Day's Night by Passion4Spike

5. Dreamweaver by Passion4Spike

6. I'd Do Anything by Passion4Spike

7. No More Mr. Nice Guy by Passion4Spike

8. My Little Girl by Passion4Spike

9. Come Fly With Me by Passion4Spike

10. Goodbye Blue Sky by Passion4Spike

11. We Gotta Get Outta This Place by Passion4Spike

12. White Room by Passion4Spike

13. I Fight Authority by Passion4Spike

14. Je t'aime by Passion4Spike

15. Iron Maiden by Passion4Spike

16. The Touch by Passion4Spike

17. Even the Losers (Get Lucky Sometimes) by Passion4Spike

18. Takin' Up Space by Passion4Spike

19. If I Were Brave by Passion4Spike

20. Daughters by Passion4Spike

21. Isn't She Lovely by Passion4Spike

22. Yummy, Yummy, Yummy by Passion4Spike

23. Standing Outside the Fire by Passion4Spike

24. The Birds and the Bees by Passion4Spike

25. Just the Two of Us by Passion4Spike

26. Stay With Me by Passion4Spike

27. Stay With Me, Reprise by Passion4Spike

28. Killer Bunnies by Passion4Spike

29. Runaway Train, Part 1 by Passion4Spike

30. Runaway Train, Part 2 by Passion4Spike

31. Tough Little Boys by Passion4Spike

32. Sixteen Tons by Passion4Spike

33. Wonderful by Passion4Spike

34. Too Much Month at the End of the Money by Passion4Spike

35. Angel's Lullaby by Passion4Spike

36. Li'l Red Riding Hood by Passion4Spike

37. If You've Got the Money, Honey by Passion4Spike

38. 2000 Light Years From Home by Passion4Spike

39. Wishes and Stars by Passion4Spike

40. Except For the Turkey by Passion4Spike

41. Hungry Heart, Part 1 by Passion4Spike

42. Hungry Heart, Part 2 by Passion4Spike

43. Let's Get Ready to Ruuummbblle! by Passion4Spike

44. The House that Built Me by Passion4Spike

45. Tangled Up In You by Passion4Spike

46. If We Make It Through December by Passion4Spike

47. God Gave Me You by Passion4Spike

48. Love Stinks by Passion4Spike

49. Crazy Girl by Passion4Spike

50. Hurry Home by Passion4Spike

51. Sorry Seems to be the Hardest Word by Passion4Spike

52. I'll Be Your Man by Passion4Spike

53. Don't Stop Believin' by Passion4Spike

54. Saturday Night's Alright for Fightin' by Passion4Spike

55. Space Oddity by Passion4Spike

56. Comfortably Numb by Passion4Spike

57. I'm Falling Down by Passion4Spike

58. I Need a Hero by Passion4Spike

I Love You This Big by Passion4Spike
Author's Notes:
The family (plus JJ) finishes up their vacation at the B&B in the Sierra Nevada Mountains by officially announcing Buffy’s pregnancy to the kids before heading for home …

OTHER NOTES:

**
Music Referenced:
I Love You This Big by Scotty McCreery
http://youtu.be/cHH-i38iprg
**
Slug-Bug (or Punch-Buggy) road trip game is a game where you punch your neighbor when you spot a VW Beetle (Bug) on the road. This game was very popular in the 60’s and 70’s but has been changed since the reduction in Beetles on the road, to include any VW model car. If you misidentify a car as a VW, then your neighbor gets to punch you back. When you punch your neighbor, you exclaim “Slug Bug” followed by the color of the VW you’ve spotted.
**
ScreenCaps courtesy of ScreenCap Paradise:
http://www.screencap-paradise.com/?cat=3
Time Line and History:

February, 2010

**

History:

Joshua "JJ" Harris was born on April 21st, 2004
The twins (Danielle, "Dani" and William, "Billy") were born on February 12th, 2004.
Annie was born on February 14th, 1999
Spike and Buffy were married in February 1999
Buffy was born January 19th, 1981
William/Spike was turned by Dru in 1880 1890; first came to Sunnydale in September of 1997

All the Potentials were endowed with full Slayer power in February 2003.
Buffy and Spike learned of the other dimensions and got the memories from the 'Rome' Universe in May, 2003.
The ‘Wish-World’ lasted from January 19th, 2005 to January, 16th 2010.

**~**


At the B&B in the Sierra Nevada Mountains:
 
The family had been having a wonderful time on their vacation in the mountains. They’d celebrated the twins’ birthday on the 12th and Annie’s on the 14th. Of course, Spike and Buffy celebrated the 14th of February in their own private way, too. Their actual wedding anniversary was February 6th, but they’d always celebrated it along with Annie’s birthday and Valentine’s Day. Spike didn’t have any extra money to get her anything extravagant for their 11th anniversary, the vacation she wanted in the snow pretty much took everything he’d saved, ‘steel’ was the traditional gift … funny how their minds seemed to think alike…

Even though Spike went commando all the time, Buffy couldn’t resist a pair of ‘Man of Steel’ briefs for him … and he was happy to model them for her and demonstrate his … steel, stretching the “S” on the front to superhero proportions.

For Buffy, Spike reciprocated with a ‘Girl of Steel’ short nightie set … and Buffy was just as happy to model it for him … and demonstrate how quickly the girl of steel could undress them both…

  


Tuesday, February 16th, 2010:
 
After dinner, the family commandeered the game room of the B&B, which wasn’t all that hard, there were only a couple of other guests there, an older couple from Canada and some honeymooners from L.A. – neither of whom had much interest in ‘Chutes and Ladders’ or ‘Monopoly’ …
 
Before choosing a game for the family (plus one) to play before bedtime, Spike and Buffy had an official announcement for the kids. They realized that they had never actually told them about Buffy’s pregnancy … not officially. The kids may have overheard some conversations, but that wasn’t the same as being told straight out of the new addition that would be coming into their home in a few months.
 
As the children sat on one of the cozy, overstuffed couches in the room and Buffy and Spike sat on the coffee table in front of them, Buffy started the conversation. “Dani, you know how you said you wished you could be a ‘big sister’ like Annie?” Buffy asked her youngest daughter.
 
“Uh-huh …”
 
“Well, it looks like you’re going to have a chance to do that … you’re all gonna have a baby brother or sister … or cousin,” she added, looking at JJ. “We’re going to have another baby,” Buffy told them excitedly, laying a hand on her still flat abdomen.
 
The younger children’s eyes went wide with excitement. “Really?” … “When?” … “Can we get a boy?” … “Please don’t have a girl!” they questioned and exclaimed at once. Buffy and Spike laughed and Spike took Buffy’s hand in his. He was a little worried about what their reaction to the news would be … Spike did notice, however, that Annie didn’t look entirely thrilled with the announcement.
 
“It won’t be until about October … I don’t know if it’s a boy or a girl, you don’t really get to choose,” Buffy clarified for them. “But we’ll be counting on you all to be the best big brother and sisters … and cousin … in the world. And we know you will be.”
 
“Where will it sleep? There’s not enough space in our room – maybe it can sleep with Annie!” Dani suggested.

 

“Well … actually, we thought we’d change your room back into a nursery and give you and Billy your very own rooms with maybe bunk beds so JJ doesn’t have to sleep on the floor when he stays over,” Buffy began and she saw a dark cloud pass over the twins’ features. “You can decorate them however you want – all Spiderman or dinosaurs or soccer or Star Wars … and lots of space for bookshelves …” she added quickly and their expressions began to change from worry back to excitement.
 
“Will you get fat like Aunt Tara?” JJ asked.
 
Buffy laughed, knowing that he didn’t mean that in malicious way. “Yeah … the baby grows in a special place in my tummy and makes it big before it comes out.”
 
“How does it get in there?” Billy questioned, looking at her stomach. “Do you swallow a little seed baby and it grows … like Uncle Xander said, if you swallow a watermelon seed it would grow in your tummy and come out your ears?”

 

“Ummm…” Buffy looked at Spike for help.
 
“It comes from smoochies, doesn’t it?” Annie asked tersely, looking not the least bit happy about the news of the new baby.
 
“Well … yeah, it sort of does…” Buffy began, looking from her eldest daughter back to Spike.

“There’re different kinds of love in the world.” Spike took over, looking primarily at Annie. “There’s a love for your brother and sisters … and cousins, and love for true friends, and there’s a parent’s love for their bits … and then there’s a love between …” Spike almost said ‘a man and a woman’, but that would be a bit outdated and confusing given their Aunts, “… between two souls. When two people love each other, not just with their heart, but their souls, they share their love in a special way …”
 
“Like smooching all the time …” Annie interjected, crossing her arms over her chest and glaring at him.
 
Spike shrugged slightly. “Like smoochin’,” he agreed. “… and when their love grows so bloody big that they have enough to share with another person, then the angels smile on them and bless them with someone else to bring into their love, into their hearts and souls.

  

“Your mum and me … we love each other to the moon and back, and we love all of you just as much. The new baby won’t take that away from you, we’ll always love you bits just as much as we did the moment the angels brought you to us. You’re all special … all irreplaceable, you’re all made of our love. You’re all loved more than you know … beyond the moon and sun and stars.”
 
“Even me?” JJ questioned tentatively.
 
Spike took his eyes off Annie and looked at JJ. “Even you, whelp. You were made of your mum and dad’s love … but you’re just as much a part of this family as the rest of the bits.”
 
“Are you gonna die for real this time?” Annie questioned angrily, her arms still folded over her chest and a dour frown on her face.
 
“No … no, baby. I’m not gonna die,” Buffy assured her.
 
“You don’t know that! You went into the hospital and had them …” Annie continued, waving her arm at Billy and Dani, “… and you were supposed to be back in a couple of days… and you almost died! Papa cried and cried and we visited you every day but we couldn’t get you to wake up and …” Annie burst out in tears and jumped up from the couch and ran from the room.
 
Spike closed his eyes and sighed heavily and Buffy bit down on her bottom lip and shook her head. They should’ve talked to Annie alone … told her first. Why was parenting so hard? They should’ve known she would react like that … that another pregnancy would frighten her as much as it would’ve Buffy not so long ago.

 

Spike patted a hand on Buffy’s thigh as he stood up and went after their eldest daughter, leaving Buffy to reassure the younger children that everything would be fine.
 
Spike found her outside in the cold, standing on the second floor balcony and looking out over the snow-covered mountains in the distance. He came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her shoulders and Annie turned around and buried her face against him, sobbing. Spike held her in silence until she’d calmed down a bit, stroking a hand over her long, soft, curly hair and down her back.
 
“Niblett, you know I’d never lie to you, yeah?” Spike asked her when her crying subsided and she nodded against his chest.
 
“I can’t promise that nothing bad will happen … something bad can happen any day to anybody. Your mum was scared about havin’ more bits for long time and so was I, but the angels went out of their way to give us this baby. I can’t believe they’d do that just to take your mum away from us,” Spike tried to assure her.
 
Annie looked up into her father’s eyes. “But you can’t promise they won’t,” she pointed out in a voice hoarse from crying.
 
Spike shook his head. “No … I can’t promise, but I do promise that we’ll do everything we can to make sure nothing bad happens to your mum or the littlest bit. That’s all anyone can do, pet. That’s how life is … I wish it was different, but you’re old enough to know that things aren’t always easy and don’t always go the way you want, but we all do the best we can and keep tryin’.”
 
Annie nodded sadly against him and hugged him tighter. Spike wanted desperately to promise her everything would be all right … to ally her fears and take her tears away, but he didn’t want to make a promise that she knew he had no ability to fulfill. He believed what he told her and he believed Buffy when she said she felt in her heart that everything would be fine this time, but it wasn’t in his power to promise that to his girl.
 
“I love you, Niblett … one day you’ll know how much when you have a little bit of your own,” Spike whispered to her.
 
“I love you too, Dad. I love you this big,” she offered, spreading her arms out wide.
 
“I know, pet … I love you this big too,” Spike told her with a small smile, spreading his arms to match hers, then pulling her back into a tight hug. “You gonna be ok with this now?”
 
Annie nodded against his chest. “Yeah… I guess,” she sighed. “Mama’s really happy about the baby, huh?”
 
“Your mum’s been through a lot, pet – more than we can imagine. The baby’s the one good thing to come from it … so, yeah, we’re both happy for the new littlest bit,” Spike assured her.
 
Annie nodded and hugged him back tightly, then suggested, “We should probably go back…”
 
“Yeah …” Spike agreed as he turned back towards the doors, keeping her tucked against his side and one arm over her shoulders. “Just how did you know about the smoochies thing?” he questioned, looking at her sideways.
 
Annie rolled her eyes. “Daaad … I’m eleven! I know stuff.”

 

“Ya, ya…growing up too fast for me to keep up, you are.” Spike patted her shoulder and then gave her another sideways look, “How much stuff?”
 
“Daaad!”
 
**~**
 
“Well, that didn’t go exactly as planned,” Buffy sighed as Spike followed her into their room after getting the kids to bed later that night.

 

“Nothing ever does, pet,” Spike reminded her.
 
“I feel like a terrible mother … I just … I just thought they’d be as excited as we were, I didn’t think Annie would wig out. I should’ve known … I didn’t think,” Buffy moaned, sitting down on the edge of the bed and dropping her head in her hands.
 
“Raising kids is like givin’ a cat a bath,” Spike tried to assure her, sitting down next to her. “You think you have everything under control right up until the bugger digs into you with teeth and claws, turns the washtub over, and escapes out the back door.”
 
Buffy looked at him with a furrowed brow. “Is that supposed to make me feel better?”
 
Spike rolled his eyes and sighed. “All I’m saying is … we can’t control everythin’ … we just do the best we can, muddle through, just like parents ‘ave always done. We’re gonna make mistakes … hopefully we remembered to shut the bloody door so they can’t actually escape…”
 
Buffy shook her head and laughed lightly. “I’m not sure you’re helping much …”
 
“Am I helping a little?” Spike questioned as he rubbed the back of her neck with one strong hand.
 
“Mmmmmmm …” Buffy moaned, closing her eyes and letting him massage the tension out of her muscles. “You did help with the ‘where did the baby come from’ question. I was ready to go with the watermelon seed theory. That was really sweet with the different kinds of love stuff. Did you just make that up?”
 
“Naaa … I’ve been a bungling prat of a parent before, remember?” Spike reminded her. “Nellie rescued me with that when Anne asked back when Cecily was pregnant with Bess …”
 
Buffy nodded, thinking of Nellie. She had been a real jewel, loyal and caring and full of ageless wisdom. “Well, anytime you have any more Nellie wisdom to share, feel free. I’m totally open to any help in the cat bathing department.
 
“What did your mom tell you about where babies come from?” Buffy wondered, looking over at him.
 
Spike chuckled. “She said, ‘proper little boys shouldn’t ask such questions, it was none of their concern.’”
 
Buffy smiled and leaned into him and he wrapped his arms around her. “My mom went with cabbage patch theory … it was the popular thing in the ‘80s.”
 
“You know … you’re gonna have to have that talk with the Niblett soon … she’s figurin’ stuff out,” Spike advised her.
 
“Yeah … like smoochies,” Buffy sighed. “She’s only eleven … My mom didn’t have that talk ... the real one, with me until I was seventeen. I guess that was a bit late to the dance… like closing the barn door after the lamb has run off with the wolf.”


 
Spike chuckled lightly, holding her against him tightly. “Kids grow up faster all the bloody time, pet. I don’t like it any more than you do.”
 
“Maybe we can just give the cat a bath, instead…”
  
Thursday, February 18th, 2010:
 
Buffy got the kids all buckled into their seats in the minivan while Spike got their luggage loaded in the ‘way back’. They’d had a lovely week at the B&B in the Sierra Nevada Mountains, but it was time to head back to Sunnydale … back to school, back to work, back to life.
 
As Spike pulled the minivan full of precious cargo onto the interstate and headed south, Buffy asked the kids what game they’d like to play. Spike and Buffy had long ago vetoed videos and Gameboys and iPods during road trips … that was just wrong. Road trips were for sing-alongs and ‘Billboard Alphabet’ and Twenty Questions and I-Spy and moans of  ‘are we there yet?’ and ‘I gotta goooo!’ … they were a time to connect with each other, not with technology.
 
“So, what game shall we play?” Buffy questioned, turning in her seat as much as her seatbelt would allow, looking at JJ and Billy who were in the next seat, Annie and Dani were in the seat behind them.
 
“Can you teach us the Red Riding Hood game?” Billy questioned enthusiastically.

 

“Yeah!” … “Please!” came concurring votes from JJ and Dani.
 
Buffy looked at Spike … was this a game she’d missed during her lost years? Spike shrugged and shook his head; he had no idea what they were talking about.
 
“What’s the Red Riding Hood game?” Buffy asked them when Spike was no help.
 
“It’s where Papa growls … ‘GRRRRRRRR ARRRRGGGHH’ … like the Big, Bad Wolf,” Billy started.
 
“And you scream and yell like Little Red Riding Hood when the wolf catches her …” Dani added.
 
“How does it go? Does he eat you all up …. Then you escape and cut him up into little pieces?” JJ interjected and all the children awaited the explanation of this game that the warriors seemed to play every night and every morning at the B&B.
 
Buffy’s jaw dropped open and she covered her mouth with one hand as her eyes went wide. She looked at Spike for help, but he was just snickering, low and rumbly, sounding a lot like a very cocky, Big, Bad Wolf … what big teeth you have.
 
When Buffy didn’t answer for a moment, Billy forged ahead, asking Spike, “Does the Big, Bad Wolf eat Red Riding Hood?”
 
“Sometimes … sometimes Lil’ Red eats the wolf,” Spike answered curling his tongue over his teeth and smiling saucily, making Buffy slap him on the arm.

 

“But just pretend, right?” Billy continued to question, slightly concerned.
 
“YES! Yes …” Buffy interjected before Spike said anything else. “It’s just pretend and it’s just a game … like … like ‘tag’, only … only louder.”
 
“Oh, and whoever gets caught gobbles the other one up?” Dani guessed.
 
“Uhhhhh …” Buffy started, rubbing a hand over her forehead. “Yeah … something like that.”
 
“But then who wins?” JJ asked. “How do you keep score?”
 
“Well … it’s kind of like T-ball … you don’t really keep score,” Buffy provided.
 
Dani scrunched up her nose. “That’s lame!”
 
“How come you play so much if you can’t win?” Billy asked, looking a little confused.
 
“Just making your mum scream is ...” Spike started and Buffy silenced him with a death glare.
 
“It’s not if you win or lose, it’s how you play the game,” Buffy quoted … someone, she had no idea who, but that was what her mom had always told her when her team lost at something.
 
“That’s dumb …” Dani moaned. “Let’s play ‘Slug Bug’!” she suggested and the boys happily agreed, while Annie just shook her head and rolled her eyes. She had a feeling their Red Riding Hood game had something to do with smoochies and babies … but she wasn’t 100% sure how it went, she was looking forward to an explanation of it. Maybe she should ask Aunt Anya about it when they got home. Her Aunt Anya always seemed to know what was going on and was usually willing to explain things, even when no one else would.
 
Buffy sighed and turned back around in her seat. She didn’t particularly care for games that involved hitting, since they usually escalated and quickly got out of control, but at this point, she was happy that they were playing anything other than ‘Red Riding Hood’ …


 

**~**

{{Click here to hear "I Love You This Big” by Scotty McCreery on YouTube }}


I know I'm still young
But I know how I feel
I might not have too much experience
But I know love is real
By the way my heart starts pounding
When I look into your eyes
I might look a little silly
Standing with my arms stretched open wide

I love you this big
Eyes have never seen this big
No one's ever dreamed this big
And I'll spend the rest of my life
Explaining what words cannot describe
But I'll try
I love you this big

I love you to the moon and back
I love you all the time
Deeper than the ocean
And higher than the pines
Cause girl, you do something to me
Deep down in my heart
I know I look a little crazy
Standing with my arms stretched all apart

I love you this big
Eyes have never seen this big
No one's ever dreamed this big
And I'll spend the rest of my life
Explaining what words cannot describe
But I'll try

I love you this big
So much bigger than I ever dreamed my heart ever would
I love you this big
And I'd write your name in stars across the sky if I could
I would

I love you this big
Oh, eyes have never seen this big
No one's ever dreamed this big
And I'll spend the rest of my life
Explaining what words cannot describe
But I'll try
I love you this big
Oh, eyes have never seen this big
No one's ever dreamed this big
And I'll spend the rest of my life
Explaining what words cannot describe
But I'll try
I love you this big.
End Notes:
TBC .... A nice, fairly happy start, right? Just a few sniffles in the middle. Don't worry, it won't stay that way for too long! {{evil laugh}} You know I love to hear from you! I know it's been a while, my muse is hungry for feedback, so don't be shy! Lots more to come!
Come and Get It by Passion4Spike
Author's Notes:
An unexpected and uninvited visitor awaits Spike and Buffy at home – one that will turn their barely balanced budget on its head. Willow has some more information for them about Bess, the Vampire Slayer.
**
Music Referenced:
Come and Get It, Badfinger
http://youtu.be/Bk57K4OGrAg
**
CLEP = The College-Level Examination Program®
--
The house I’m using as Willow and Tara’s is actually located on Bainbridge Island, WA. I’m using poetic license and putting it on Lake Sammamish, about 6-10 miles from Redmond, WA where Microsoft’s headquarters are.
**
ScreenCaps courtesy of ScreenCap Paradise:
http://www.screencap-paradise.com/?cat=3
**
Special thanks to 'u2fan2005' and 'epd4' for their suggestions, corrections, and help betaing this chapter!!
(Later the same day), Thursday, February 18th, 2010:
  
Spike pulled the mini-van into the driveway at the mansion and four children bolted from their seats before Buffy and Spike could even unbuckle their seatbelts – all racing to beat the others to the bathroom.
 
“I told you we should’ve stopped one more time …” Buffy chastised him, but Spike just rolled his eyes.
 
“Can’t make any time stoppin’ every hundred bloody miles,” he protested. “They made it …”
 
“Yeah, but I’m not so sure I will,” Buffy informed him as she headed into the house behind them.
 
Spike sighed and went to the back of the van to get some of the luggage to carry in, but before he could even get the back open, Buffy was back outside.

 

“Try behind the bougainvillea … I think it’s free,” Spike offered, tilting his head to the large bush on the side of the yard. “Just watch the thorns … only thing allowed to prick you is me.”
 
Buffy rolled her eyes and shook her head as she walked up to him and laid a hand on his arm. “I want you to stay calm now…”
 
Spike looked at her then looked at the door to the house … what had happened in there that would require him to remain calm?
 
“What happened?”
 
“Just promise that you’ll be civil and calm …”
 
“Fine … I promise to be civil and calm … until you tell me what the bloody hell happened,” Spike agreed impatiently as he brushed past her towards the door to see for himself.
 
He hadn’t even made it through the doors when he knew why she’d said that. “Bloody wanker…” he muttered under his breath as he felt his grand-sire’s presence tingle the back of his neck.
 
Spike rolled his eyes and turned back to Buffy who was following quickly behind him.  “Haven’t we found a way to disinvite the poof yet?”
 
“Apparently not …” Buffy sighed. “Please, let’s not have a big scene … just find out what he wants and try to be civil, ok?”
 
Spike put on a fake smile and walked in the house. Angel was leaning on the back of one of the chairs at the research table, waiting for them.
 
“Well … look who’s popped in uninvited … again,” Spike started. “Maybe we should change the bloody locks …”

 

“That might help if you actually locked any of the doors, Spike …” Angel began, standing up and taking a step towards the couple.
 
“Hi, Buffy …” Angel started.
 
“Angel …” Buffy replied dryly … still pissed with him for not helping her with D’Hoffryn in the ‘Wish-World’ … she had a hard time remembering that this Angel didn’t even remember that.
 
“Ok … enough of the small talk. What do ya’ want?” Spike questioned, hooking his thumbs over his belt buckle and giving Angel his best annoyed, Big Bad look, which required no acting skills whatsoever.

 

Angel rolled his eyes and turned his full attention to Buffy and cut straight to the reason for his visit. “Cordy’s sick … very sick. We’ve been to every doctor and healer and shaman … nothing’s worked. She’s dying … and … well, I have two choices. Wolfram & Hart says they can heal her … but I either need to pay them or take my whole team and go to work for them.”
 
“Or you could walk away from the bloody bitch … looks like the PTB are shining good luck down on ya’ again,” Spike interjected.
 
“Spike … you’re an ass. Cordy’s my wife, she’s the mother of my son and I love her. I’ll do anything …”

 

“Wait! What!?” Buffy interrupted him, taking a step forward.
 
“What what?” Angel questioned.
 
“What son?” Buffy clarified, looking from Angel to Spike.
 
Spike rolled his eyes … well, actually his whole head. “Wanker’s got a mangy whelp name a’ Connor,” Spike clarified as Angel looked at her strangely. She knew this…she’d sent a shower gift and birthday cards every year.
 
“When?”  Buffy questioned further, looking at Spike.
 
Spike shook his head, trying to remember. “’Bout four years ago, I reckon.”
 
“Buffy … are you sure you’re all right?” Angel asked from behind her, taking another step forward.
 
Buffy whirled around and faced him. “Yeah … fine … just some memory problems. Got hit on the head with a big stick,” she explained, touching the back of her head for emphasis.
 
Angel looked at her with concern then looked up at Spike. “What’s the matter, Spike? That soul of yours slipping?”
 
“I didn’t hit ‘er, you buggerin’ son of a bitch,” Spike defended angrily, taking a step towards him.

 

“Ok … ok!” Buffy exclaimed, stepping between the two vampires and pushing on each of their chests to make them both step back.
 
She turned her back on Spike and faced Angel. “Ok … Cordy’s sick … Wolfram & Hart say they can help, but they want a ransom … so why don’t you just pay it?”
 
When Angel looked down and started fidgeting with a loose thread on his shirt, Buffy answered her own question. “Because you don’t have any money.”
 
Angel sighed and rolled his eyes to the ceiling. He hated this – he’d given Buffy (and, by default, Spike) all the money the clan had in good faith – never intending for them to find out or for him to need any of it. He had the hotel and A.I. and he was bringing in money on some of the cases, but when the economy went south, everything had gone to hell … then Cordy got sick and …
 
“Right,” Angel answered with a sigh.
 
Spike’s brows shot up. “This is about money? You need money?”
 
“Yes, Spike. I need money. I’m here asking for your help – are you happy now?” Angel asked tersely.
 
Spike smirked, stuck his hand down in the pocket of his jeans and pulled out some bills. “A fiver do ya?” he asked, holding a five dollar bill out towards Angel.
 
Angel ignored him and focused on Buffy. “I need some of the money back, Buffy. I’m sorry … I never thought I … well, I’m just sorry,” Angel explained. “We can make it a loan if you want…when Cordy’s better and the economy turns around, I can pay you back. I don’t want to get in bed with W&H … but I can’t find any alternative. My only other option is to go to work for them, which I’ll do if I have to… I can’t lose her, Buffy … I can’t.”

 

Buffy sighed heavily; she really didn’t want him working for W&H if she could help it. “Of course you can have some of the money back – it wasn’t Spike’s to start with. Do you know how it really should’ve been divided?” Buffy asked.
 
“Yeah … actually, here’s the real accounting from the bank,” Angel said, pulling a paper out of his pocket and handing to her.
 
Buffy opened the paper and looked at it and a knot formed in her stomach and traveled up into her chest then settled in her throat. Spike could feel her distress and pulled the paper out of her hand to look at it himself.
 
“That’s bollocks!” Spike accused. “You’re saying three quarters of the bloody money you listed as Dru’s was yours?! Who does these accountin’s for ya? Charles Ponzi?”
 
Angel rolled his eyes again. “I don’t need it all … just enough to pay them and some to get back on our feet,” Angel started.
 
“No …no, it’s ok,” Buffy interrupted him, finally able to get the lump out of her throat.
 
“No it bloody well is not ok!” Spike argued with her. “This is bollocks! How can you have so much more than Dru did? Her family was bloody rich!”

 

“Compound interest,” Angel said simply.
 
“What the bloody hell are you on about?” Spike asked incredulously.
 
“An extra hundred and twenty five years of compound interest … it adds up,” Angel explained with a shrug.
 
“Spike, it’s ok,” Buffy told him, taking the paper back out of his hand.
 
Looking back at Angel, Buffy said, “It’ll take a while to get it … some of it’s in CDs … I’ll have to cash them out.
 
“I can write you a check for part of it now and then get the rest in about a week, will that be ok?” Buffy asked him.
 
“Buffy…” Spike started, his voice pleading with her to listen to him.
 
Spike – the money’s his … it’s not yours … it wasn’t Dru’s. We can’t keep it. Do you want him to go to work for Wolfram & Hart? Buffy sent to him silently through their bond.

 

He’d fit right in, I’d wager! Think about the babies, Buffy! What about the little bits … what about the one right there in your belly? We’re barely makin’ it now! What do you suggest we do about little things like food and clothes? Shall we take out another insurance policy, kill you again and hope we can bring you back? Spike shot back sarcastically.
 
We’ll do it like every other American family does it … we’ll take out loans and mortgages and get more credit cards…maybe I can get a job. We’re not keeping Angel’s money – he needs it and he’s asking for it back. Spike … I can’t handle an Armageddon right now … and you know as well as I do what will happen if he goes to work for Evil, Inc. Spike, please…
 
Spike blew out a long breath and shook his head slowly. He really wished he hadn’t made that promise to not stake Angel all those years ago … “Do what you want, then,” he said tersely as he turned and headed up the stairs, leaving Buffy and Angel alone in the great room.
 
“Buffy, I’m truly sorry. I really don’t need it all…” Angel started.
 
“I know – it’s ok, really. We’ll be fine,” she assured him as she opened her purse, pulled out a checkbook and wrote him a check for part of the money from the money market account that Anya had set up for them which held the a good bit of their savings. Anya was going to have a holy conniption fit, Buffy had no doubt.
 
**~**
 
“So, send Angel and our money on his merry way, then?” Spike asked gruffly when Buffy came up and found him in their room after Angel left.
 
“I sent Angel and some of his money on his way, yeah…” Buffy countered, sitting down on the bed next to Spike.
 
“Spike, please don’t do this – it was such a perfect week, please don’t end it being angry,” Buffy begged him, reaching one hand out to touch his arm as she sat cross-legged next to where he was sitting with his back against the headboard.
 
Spike let out a long breath and closed his eyes. “I’m just thinking of you and the bits, Buffy. I don’t need the wanker’s money – never needed my own bloody money before, but things are different now. There’s more than just me and you to think of,” he argued, opening his eyes and meeting hers as he reached a hand out and touched her abdomen.
 
“I know – trust me, I know that,” Buffy sighed as she took his hand in hers, interlacing her fingers with his. “I just – I don’t know if you can understand, but I just don’t think I’m ready to face what we both know would happen if he went to work for Wolfram & Hart,” Buffy started. “We can make it Spike, we’ll just have to cut down on some things … maybe … maybe I could get a real job …”
 
“Pfffft,” Spike snorted. “What kinda bloody job do you figure you could get, Buffy? Minimum bloody wage flippin’ burgers or waitressin’? And who’s gonna watch the bits? Got any idea what daycare costs? Just ask Anya … she’ll be happy to tell ya down to the last red cent.”
 
“I could go back to work for the Council…” Buffy suggested cautiously.
 
“No bloody way!” Spike exclaimed, bolting up in the bed and grabbing her by the shoulders. “No.”
 
Buffy rolled her eyes and sighed. She didn’t really want to do that either, but if it meant being able to provide for their family, then she could do anything.
 
“I’ll take care of it; I’ll make sure our family’s provided for,” Spike asserted, as he slid his hands down her arms and took both her hands in his as his eyes locked onto hers. “You have Anya take what money’s left and put it up safe and sound for the little bits – they’ll need it for university one day. I’ll get money to live on. No worries…”
 
“Spike… I can work – you don’t have to do it alone,” Buffy advised him.
 
“Can you please just let me be the man for once, Slayer?” Spike asked her with a determined look on his face.

 

“Spike, it is 2010…women have been working for …” Buffy started to argue, but Spike pressed a finger to her lips.

“It may be 2010, but I’m still the man, I’m the father, I’m the husband, and it’s my responsibility to provide for my family and I will, just like I promised your mum and Watcher … and you,” Spike insisted.
 
“How?” Buffy asked softly when he took his finger away.
 
“Don’t know yet, but I’ll figure something out. No worries,” Spike told her again and Buffy leaned forward and laid her forehead against his shoulder.
 
“Maybe you could teach …” Buffy offered after a few moments, sitting back and looking at him. “William seemed to enjoy that … and you have a degree and you still know all that Shakespeare stuff and languages … maybe UC Sunnydale …”
 
Spike snorted softly. “I can see the application now … University? Oxford. Degree Earned? Master of Arts. Year Graduated? 1877 …”
 
Buffy rolled her eyes. “Well … maybe you could … fib on that last part.”
 
Spike let out a short, sarcastic laugh. “Fib, eh?” he questioned. “Unfortunately, all these wankers with no degrees fibbin’ on applications ‘ave made it hard on the rest of us … they actually check stuff like that now.”
 
“Oh …” Buffy said dejectedly, frowning. “Maybe you could … you know, CLEP a degree … people CLEP classes all the time … you should be able to get a ton of credit for life experience …”
 
“That’d still take for-bloody-ever and it takes money to pay for the courses … money we don’t ‘ave … money I can’t be makin’ if I’m doin’ that. No, I need to do somethin’ that I’m already qualified for … somethin’ that pays good money – real money. Can’t raise a family of five on a teacher’s salary, anyway …”
 
“Four … we only have four kids … or three and a half,” Buffy reminded him, laying her palm on her stomach.
 
“Right … Harris’ whelp is ‘ere so much, I forget he don’t belong to us sometimes…”
 
“Spike … what about … remember that crypt with all the treasures … where you got the Gem? What about all that stuff? We could tunnel in, get it out … sell it on eBay or at the Magic Box or something …” Buffy suggested, her voice brightening and eyes gleaming with excitement about that plan.
 
“Yeah … brilliant idea … except you already had that idea ‘bout six years ago. Even though Marcus didn’t find the Gem there, he wasn’t gonna walk away empty handed after he spent all that time tunneling in. Cleared most everything else out, he did. What little was left we used t’ pay the doctors when Lemon Drop went back in with the meningitis and that buggering milk allergy. Small bloody fortune that was …”

 

“Oh …” Buffy let out a defeated breath and leaned her head against his shoulder again.
Spike wrapped his arms around her and leaned the side of his head against hers. He had no idea how he’d get enough money to support them – certainly not working at Willy’s as security. He was damn good at poker and eight-ball and darts, but the small-time games in Sunnydale weren’t enough for him to win anything substantial, plus, everyone here knew him. Of course, he didn’t really want to fall back on the other money-making talents he had learned over the last century, like picking locks, shoplifting, hotwiring cars, pick-pocketing, and other even less savory talents.
 
“I love you,” Buffy whispered to him. His strong arms around her made her feel safe, his assertion that he was the man and he’d provide for their family made her feel warm and loved. It wasn’t how a modern ‘Cosmo Girl’ should feel, she supposed, but that’s how it felt, all the same.
 
“I love you too, Buffy,” Spike whispered back. “I’ll take care of it.” He was determined to do this.
 
**~**
 
(9 days later) Saturday, February 27th, 2010, Willow and Tara’s house, Lake Sammamish, WA :
 

 
Buffy drove straight through to Washington, stopping only for catnaps and potty breaks and the occasional Red Bull, and arrived early this Saturday to help Willow get everything ready for Tara’s baby shower. Willow had conspired with Tara’s office manager to have her called away on an ‘emergency’ this morning … she’d promised to keep her away until 1pm when the shower was set to start.
 
To say Buffy was gobsmacked when she saw their house, which sat on a half-acre lot directly on the seven mile long, two mile wide, Lake Sammamish, would be an understatement. It reminded Buffy of the Coven’s safehouse up in the mountains of Canada. Willow and Tara’s was a bit smaller, with only four bedrooms … not counting the ‘mother-in-law’ suite above the four car garage or the den … or the library … or the home theatre. The natural wood and peaked roof made it look like it belonged in the Swiss Alps … and the view of the lake through the wall of floor-to-ceiling picture windows that lined the back of the house was spectacular to say the least.
 
Willow greeted Buffy at the front door and took some of the packages and decorations from her hands.

 

“Cute little fishin’ shack you’ve got here…” Buffy commented taking it all in as she followed Willow into the foyer. “Does Bill Gates live next door … or does he bunk over the garage?”
 
Willow shrugged a little but smiled. “It’s not that expensive … and we do have a mortgage…”
 
Buffy pushed her jealousy bone back down and gave her friend a genuine smile. “You dun good, huh?”
 
Willow smiled wider, her eyes going wide with excitement. “Yeah … we did. It’s kinda weird, ya know? Willow Rosenberg … New Development Project Manager – people actually listen to me! They think I know what I’m doing! And you know what’s even funnier?”
 
“You actually do …” Buffy guessed with a small laugh as they continued to walk into the wide open great room.

“I actually do!” Willow answered at the same time Buffy did.

  

They both laughed as they made their way into the kitchen and set the packages down on the counter.
 
Buffy pulled Willow into a hug. “I’m really proud of you; I never doubted you could do it, Wills – you’ve always been the smart one. I love you guys so much.”
 
“Thanks, Buffy … we love you too – you know that right?” Willow asked as Buffy released her.
 
“I know …” Buffy assured her with a soft smile.
 
“Before we get started with the shower stuff, I have a couple of surprises for you,” Willow told her, as she started out of the kitchen and up the stairs to her den.
 
“For me? You know, I don’t normally like surprises … well … except Spike surprises … he has the best surprises …” Buffy amended as she followed Willow upstairs.
 
“Well, it probably won’t be as good as a Spike surprise … which I think I’d be better off not imagining kind of surprises he has for you … but …” Willow began, as she picked a paper up from her desk then turned around and handed it to Buffy.
 
Buffy looked down at the paper in her hand … it was a check … from Willow and Tara … a big check…made out to Elizabeth and William Weckerly. “Wha… what’s this?” Buffy stammered after a moment of making sure her eyes were working properly and not adding extra numbers that weren’t really there, finally prying her gaze off the check and looking up at her friend. “The decorations weren’t that much!”
 
Willow shrugged. “I figured it was time we paid you back for all those years we lived at the mansion … kind of retroactive room and board. I subtracted that pan of brownies you stole that time, though…” Willow joked, her eyes dancing with happiness at being able to do something for her friends after all that they’d done for her and Tara.
 
“Willow … I … I can’t take this. It’s too much … and … you helped us out too. You watched the kids … you did spells, you fought the First … you brought me back from the dead for goodness sake!” Buffy protested, trying to force her arm to extend and give the check back, but failing.

 

“No, it’s not too much – in fact, it’s exactly right. Here, I did a spreadsheet and figured it all up … with interest,” Willow told her, picking up another piece of paper and handing to her. There were so many numbers on it, Buffy couldn’t really focus … it was waaay too much like math. “This way, Spike can't be a caveman like Xander and say that he won’t take help from us … this isn’t a loan, it’s payback – fully documented. Oh, and just FYI…you can’t rip it up. I did a simple spell…it’s unrippable … just try it … I dare you.”
 
Buffy lifted her eyes from the jumble of numbers on the paper and met Willow’s. “I don’t know what to say.”
 
“Just say ‘thank you,’” Willow advised with a shrug, a small smile playing on her lips.
 
“Thank you,” Buffy offered sincerely, feeling like a huge weight had been lifted from her shoulders.
 
Willow smiled at her friend. It did her heart good to be able to finally help them – to really help in a substantial way that she knew they could use right about now. It wouldn’t replace what they had given back to Angel by a long shot, but it would be enough to tide them over until they could find a way to make more money.
 
“I’m afraid to ask what the other surprise is … after this, it must be something bad to balance it out …” Buffy half-joked as she folded the check and put it in her pocket.
 
Willow scrunched her face up. “Well, that was the best surprise … maybe I should’ve saved it for last,” she admitted as she turned back around and sat down at her computer and began typing.

 

“You know I’ve been working with Wes and … the Council a little …” Willow began tentatively.
 
“Oh?” Buffy questioned suspiciously. “No … I didn’t know.”
 
“Now that we’re in the twenty-first century, someone there has finally convinced them to venture into the twentieth … and I’ve been helping them with some technology,” Willow explained quickly. “They’re trying to take all their old books and Watcher’s diaries and scan them, index them … store them online and create a master database so the Watchers and Slayers can look things up from anywhere in the world with an internet connection …”
 
“So the days of sitting around the table looking through book after book after book to find information are over?” Buffy questioned from behind her friend.
 
“Well … not yet, but they’re working on it. Giles, of course, hates the whole idea and so far hasn’t let me scan any of his books or diaries that he has to add to the database…” Willow offered.

"I think we'll have to drag Giles, kicking and screaming, away from his musty old books," Buffy quipped. "I think he wants to be buried under the library."

"No doubt..." Willow agreed with a laugh.
 
“So … this is my surprise? I have to learn how to use a computer better?” Buffy questioned as she watched Willow bring up some scanned documents on the screen.
 
“No … well, maybe – but that’s not the surprise,” Willow assured her as the printer next to her whirled to life and started spitting out pages.
 
“I found Harold Travers’ diary from 1899 through 1901…” Willow started.
 
Buffy’s throat tightened and she felt like something had sucked the air from her lungs. “Bess…” she whispered.
 
“Yeah…” Willow confirmed solemnly, picking up the papers from the printer and handing them to Buffy. “I’m sorry…” Willow added, not sure what else to say.
 


Buffy looked down at Harold Travers’ neatly written diary pages that Willow had printed for her and began reading, skimming over parts that weren’t related to Bess until she found the first entry from Philadelphia …
 
~~*~~
 
November 21st, 1900:
 
Met the family … former vicar turned steel worker and his wife and two other children, one elder daughter and one younger son. The Slayer herself is but thirteen … the youngest I’ve ever worked with. She is quite frightened by the sudden change in her strength; the family quite perplexed. I’ve tried to explain to them the best I can. Will need to take Elizabeth, Bess as she’s known to her family and friends, back to England for training as she’s had none …
 
December 15th, 1900:
 
Arrived in London. We used the time onboard ship for training and study. She’s taken quite readily to the training; less so to the study, preferring to spar and train than read most days. Bess is a spirited, smart girl with a big heart … I caught her feeding scraps to the mangy tabbies onboard more than once, despite the seamen explaining they weren't to be fed as that reduced their penchant for catching rats. She also spent some hours cleaning the infection from the eyes of one feline’s kittens, going down into the bowels of the ship each night after she thought me asleep to care for them. She’s quite homesick already and writes to her family daily … I posted several of her letters back to the States upon arrival.
 
December 25th, 1900:
 
Perhaps the saddest day for dear Bess since leaving Philadelphia … I tried to cheer her with plum pudding and Christmas crackers … but she quite misses her family on this day more so than others.
 
January 5th, 1901:
 
Bess has met and staked her first vampire. She’s shown remarkable poise and ability for such a young girl, and, despite her abhorrence of study, she’s quite eager to learn how to use new weapons.


 ~~*~~

Buffy sat down in a chair near the windows and continued to read the old dairy pages with rapt attention … knowing what the final entry would be, but unable to stop reading. There were more entries, telling of how Bess was improving with her fighting skills, how she’d mastered the crossbow, was quite comfortable with hand to hand combat, and was gaining skill and confidence with the broad sword. Then Buffy came to the entry that she dreaded ….

 ~~*~~

July 19th, 1901:
 
I do not know how to begin this final entry … perhaps that says it all. I lost dear Bess this warm, summer’s night. I’ve never before witnessed such a battle … this is a day that shall haunt my nightmares forevermore.

It had been a quiet evening … patrolling first along Piccadilly then through St. James park and down to the River Thames…we hadn’t met one vampire the whole evening. It had been a quite hot day and the evening was equally warm … we thought perhaps the vampires were taking the night off, staying in their lairs, due to the extraordinary heat … but alas, that was not the case.

As we entered Victoria Tower Gardens, a mob of demons jumped from behind the hedgerow … there were perhaps ten or more. How I escaped death, I do not know – but certainly owe my life to my Slayer.  I could see and hear young Bess fighting gallantly, but … there were simply too many. I recall being hit on the head and darkness started to overtake me … then dear Bess was there, dragging me away. That’s the last I remember of the fight … it is the last time I saw my Slayer … alive.
 
I awoke sometime later, stumbling from my hiding place where Bess had left me, to find several piles of dust … but my Slayer was gone. I searched for her … around the park, on the riverbank … I searched until dawn and beyond, but she was simply gone – I feared they had taken her captive … my mind conjured the worst; I pray to all things good and holy that I am wrong.
 
August 3rd, 1901:
 
I have searched for Bess day and night since the attack, up and down the riverbank, near Westminster, Hyde Park, and Piccadilly Circus. Today the Council informed me that a new Slayer had been Called, and I knew for certain; I would never see Bess alive again. I prayed that she was, in fact, dead and that my very worst fears would not come to pass, that she was turned.

I do not know what to tell her family … I have no body to bring back to them for burial, I have nothing to offer them; no hope, no closure.
 
September 30th, 1901:
 
As I was walking along the Thames this evening, as I’ve come to do since losing Bess, I caught a glimpse of a fair-haired girl who moved like the wind … there was no doubt in my mind – it was my Slayer. I called out, tried to catch her, but she was too fast and disappeared into the park, confirming my worst fears, she had been turned; she was a demon.

Her mother has sent telegrams… telephoned the Council headquarters … what do I tell her? That her daughter is a vampire? That her soul has been damned? I cannot face them … I have not replied.

October 5th, 1901:
 
Although I thought that night in July was the worst night of my life, it has been eclipsed a thousandfold by this one. With autumn in the air, I staked my own Slayer.

I found her waiting for me near the same place we were attacked in Victoria Tower Gardens so many weeks ago. She stepped from behind the same hedgerow as our attackers had, knocking me to the ground and pinning me down with her body. I managed to turn under her, to face her as I lie on the ground – her beautiful face was grotesque with ridges and fangs … her lovely blue eyes, feral and golden.

I begged her to spare me … to come with me back to the Council – perhaps we could find a cure, but she simply laughed at me. I shall never forget that cruel and barbarous laugh. As she leaned down to drain my life’s blood, I retrieved my stake from its hiding place at my side and… it was over.

Her features morphed momentarily back to human … I could once again see the blue eyes of the child that I had taken from her family. For that split second, the girl that saved my life, the girl that nursed the kittens and fed the ducks along the riverbank was there … then dust exploded over me, covering me with a blanket of regret and sorrow.
 

~~*~~
 
Buffy looked up at Willow, unshed tears glistening in her eyes. “Did you read this?”
 
“Yeah …” Willow confirmed. “I’m sorry, Buffy, but I thought you’d want to see it… want to know.”
 
“Yeah…” Buffy agreed as she looked back down at the papers and began to read it again, as if she could somehow transport herself onto the pages … into the past and help her daughter.

 

**~**
 
(Two days later) Monday, March 1st, 2010, 2:30am:
 
Buffy had gotten home from Willow and Tara’s in the early evening, just in time for Spike to head to work at Willy’s. She barely had enough time to tell him about the check before he left, which, as Willow predicted, he began to protest. Buffy finally convinced him that it was nothing more than Willow and Tara paying a debt to them – it wasn’t a loan or them helping them out or taking pity on them or any assault on Spike’s manhood or ability to support his family.
 
Now she waited for him to get back from work to show him the pages from the Watcher’s Diary … the pages that chronicled their daughter’s death.
 
Spike was surprised to find Buffy waiting for him on the couch in the great room when he got home … he knew she must be exhausted from the long drive up to Washington for Tara’s shower and back again in such a short time.
 
“What’s wrong, luv?” he asked as he walked over to where she was sitting on the couch by the fireplace.
 
“Oh … I missed you too,” Buffy teased as she stood up and wrapped her arms around his neck and gave him a welcome home kiss. “Can’t I just be eager to see my husband after being gone all weekend?”
 
Spike pulled back and looked at her quizzically then shook his head. “Uh-uh … somethin’s wrong.”

 

Buffy rolled her eyes and released him before picking up the diary papers off the end table by the couch.

 
“Willow found this … It’s about Bess. I thought you’d want to see it,” Buffy offered as she handed the papers to him.
 
Spike’s brow furrowed as he took the papers. He sat down on the couch and began to read …
 
When he had finished, he looked up at Buffy, shaking his head in denial. “They took her alive…” Spike whispered.
 
“Yeah…” Buffy agreed sadly.
 
“Do you … do you know what they would’ve done …” Spike’s voice cracked and he closed his eyes, trying to block the image of his daughter being tortured and raped by the mob of vampires before being turned. “She’d just turned fourteen… barely older than the Niblett…
 
“I thought … I thought they’d turned ‘er right off … that he’d staked her right quick…” Spike let his voice trail off, still shaking his head as tears stung his eyes.
 
Buffy nodded her head, that’s what she thought too when Wanda had told them the story.
 
Buffy took the papers back from Spike’s hands and skimmed through them again … she’d read them over and over and over again since Willow gave them to her.
 
“She was a good Slayer … she was just alone,” Buffy offered, laying a hand on his shoulder. “We won’t let that happen to these girls.”
 
“No…” Spike agreed as he fought against the tightening of his chest and stomach, fought to keep the horrible visions from his mind, fought to keep the guilt from creeping back into his soul.
 
After several minutes of silence, Buffy slid her hand down his arm. “Spike? Can I ask you something?”

 

Spike looked up at her with frightened eyes, afraid she was going to ask him to tell her what exactly those vampires would’ve done to their daughter…
 
When he didn’t answer, Buffy forged ahead. “Does something about this seem … funny to you?” she asked, shaking the papers in her hand.
 
“Nothing about that is the least bit funny …” Spike assured her tersely, an anger growing inside his belly – anger with Bess’ Watcher for being so careless, anger with the vamps that attacked her, anger with himself for leaving her to stand alone …
 
“No … not ‘ha-ha’ funny,” Buffy clarified. “Just kinda weird?”
 
Spike looked down at them with a furrowed brow, then back up to her. “Whaddya mean?”
 
Buffy shrugged and looked at the pages again. “I don’t know…it’s just a … feeling I guess. It just seems … off.”
 
Spike took the papers back and read them again … and again, finally looking back at her and shaking his head and shrugging.
 
“It’s probably just me, then…” Buffy sighed, taking the papers from his hand and standing up. “Spike … you know this wasn’t your fault, right?” she asked, looking down at him.
 
Spike dipped his head and rubbed a hand on the back of his neck … he wasn’t so sure about that at all.
 
“Spike? Hey – look at me.”
 
Spike looked up and met her eyes with his, the doubt and pain still evident.
 
“It. Was. Not. Your. Fault,” Buffy told him emphatically.
 
Spike sighed, pursed his lips together and nodded … trying to believe her, trying convince himself that his actions in China didn’t start a domino effect and ultimately caused his daughter’s death … and everything that had surely happened to her in the hours and days before that. He tried to push the thought of how scared she must’ve been out of his mind, but he kept seeing her face, Dani’s face. The time that Dani had gotten separated from them at the mall when she was three popped into his mind; he remembered how frantic and frightened she looked when they finally found her. What Bess would’ve gone through would’ve been a thousand … a million times worse, a million times more frightening, a million times more horrific …
 
Buffy pulled one of the other old Watcher’s diaries from a bookcase in the research area, slid the papers about Bess in it, and closed the book … both literally and symbolically, on those pages. It was over, past. What was done was done. She knew Spike needed to know what had happened to Bess, but she also knew that it would affect him even more than it had her, he still felt responsible for Bess being Called.
 
“I saved some Chubby Hubby ice cream for ya…” Buffy offered, trying to get his mind off Bess and onto something else ... anything else.

 

“Did ya now?” Spike questioned, going along with her change of subject and pressing his anger and frustration and guilt to the back of his mind. He’d gotten quite adept at that over the years. “Trying to fatten me up, are ya?”
 
“Mmmmm,” Buffy hummed seductively as she slid the book back into its place on the shelf and turned back to face him. “Just some very specific parts of you…” she teased, trying to lighten the mood.
 
“Oh, Grandmother, what a big c ….” she started to mock Little Red Riding Hood, before Spike cut her off by growling deeply and capturing her lips with his. The ice cream, and everything else, could wait a while longer …

 


**~**
 
{{Click here to hear "Come And Get It” by Badfinger on YouTube   }}


If you want it, here it is
Come and get it
Make your mind up fast

If you want it anytime I can give it
But you better hurry 'cause it may not last

Did I hear you say that there must be a catch?
Will you walk away from a fool and his money?

If you want it, here it is
Come and get it
But you better hurry 'cause it's going fast

If you want it, here it is
Come and get it
Make your mind up fast

If you want it anytime I can give it
But you'd better hurry 'cause it may not last

Did I hear you say that there must be a catch?
Will you walk away from a fool and his money?

Sonny, if you want it, here it is
Come and get it
But you'd better hurry 'cause it's going fast
You'd better hurry 'cause it's going fast

Woo, fool that is money

Sorry, if you want it, here it is
Come and get it
But you'd better hurry 'cause it's going fast
You'd better hurry 'cause it's going fast
You'd better hurry 'cause it's going fast


End Notes:
TBC ... Sooooo ... what is it that made Buffy get a funny feeling about that diary? And can we just move in with Willow and Tara now? heehee! Lots more to come! Don't be shy ... you know my blue eyed muse loves to hear from you!
Ordinary Miracle by Passion4Spike
Author's Notes:
It’s time for Edmond “Eddie” Giles Rosenberg-Maclay to enter the world … just another ordinary miracle.
**
Music Referenced:
Ordinary Miracle, Sarah McLachlan
http://youtu.be/OD2kz_U5NQM
**
Poem: ‘Love’s Philosophy’ by Percy Shelley
**
ScreenCaps courtesy of ScreenCap Paradise:
http://www.screencap-paradise.com/?cat=3
**
Special thanks also to 'u2fan2005' and 'epd4' for their suggestions, corrections, and help betaing this chapter!!
(Nine days later), Wednesday, March 9th, 2010:

 

“I’m sure there’s nothing to worry about, Wills … boys like to keep their moms waiting,” Buffy assured her friend that night as they sat in the living room after dinner sipping on Mango smoothies, repeating what Nellie had told her back in Victorian England. Buffy had made the trip up from Sunnydale with Giles, bringing Billy and Dani with them, for the birth of Edmond Giles Rosenberg-Maclay, who was due, according to the doctors, today.

Annie had already missed too much school lately with the trip to the mountains, so she stayed home with Spike, who would watch her and JJ until Anya got off work, then she would spend the night at Anya and Xander’s house and Spike would pick her up in the morning. Annie had insisted that she was plenty old enough to stay home alone for a ‘couple of hours’ (actually, it would be more like six) until Spike got home from work each night, but was quickly vetoed by her parents on that idea.
 
“But today is 266 days … little Eddie should’ve come out today,” Willow insisted worriedly. “Buffy, what if something’s wrong!?”
 
“Willow … it’s a baby, not a computer program … you can’t just say it’s gonna be 266 days and 'presto-chango' it spits out like a punch card,” Buffy pointed out.
 
Willow sighed deeply. “I know … I was just ready for him to be here … I don’t want to wait anymore.”
 
“I’m sure it’ll be fine …” Buffy assured her again, patting a hand down on her leg. “Now … go get Tara some Phish Food, Ju Ju Fish, Red Hots, and sardines like she wanted before she gets testy - er …”





Willow nodded as she stood up. "Little Eddie has to come out before the twentieth at the very latest," Willow reasoned as she started for the door. "There's no doubt he's a Pisces."


 
 
**~**
 
Buffy awoke in the middle of the night to shrill, ear piercing screams. As she tried to come fully awake and figure out where she was and who was screaming, she realized that the screams were coming from her son, sleeping in the large king-sized bed with her and Dani in one of the guest rooms at Willow and Tara’s house.
 
“Billy! Shhhhh, baby, it’s just a dream. It’s ok,” Buffy assured him, pulling him to her and rocking him as he cried and wrapped his arms around her.
 
Dani got up sleepily and turned on the bedside lamp. “It’s the dungeon dream,” she told Buffy as she plopped back down on the bed.
 
“The dungeon dream? What’s the dungeon dream?” Buffy questioned as she tried to soothe Billy and get him to stop crying.
 
“There’s a dungeon … you know, like in Harry Potter? … n’ I’m locked up, but he can’t open the gate or get me out… it scares him,” Dani explained.
 
“Awwww, sweetie,” Buffy started, dropping a kiss in Billy’s soft curls as she continued to rock him in her arms. “Dani’s right here, honey … she’s ok, see?”
 
Billy looked up at his sister who was sitting on the edge of the bed and nodded as he took deep, shuddering breaths, right on the edge of hyperventilating.
 
“Shhh, baby … it’s ok,” Buffy soothed, still rocking him and stroking a hand comfortingly down his back.
 
“I haveta go baf-room…” Dani announced, jumping down off the bed.
 
“Do you know where it is?” Buffy questioned.
 
“Uh-huh …” Dani assured her, as she turned the doorknob with both hands and headed out of the room.
 
“Are you ok, honey?” Buffy asked Billy, his breathing finally returning to normal.
 
He nodded against her chest, but didn’t release his hug.
 
“Do you need a drink of water … or to go to the bathroom?”
 
He nodded again and Buffy rolled her eyes … which one? Both?
 
“Ok, let’s go find your sister, ok? She should be done by now…” she suggested and Billy nodded again, finally releasing his hug.
 
After getting everyone a drink of water and going to the bathroom, Buffy got the twins back to sleep, one on each side of her in the large bed. The bedside clock said 3:00am … she wondered if Spike was still awake…
 
Spike?
 
Yeah, pet … everything ok? Got a new nephew for me yet?
 
No, not yet. Billy had a nightmare … do you know about some Harry Potter dungeon dream?
she asked silently through the bond.
 
Yeah, he’s had ‘em before – off and on for a couple ‘a years … never can get anything more out of ‘im other than Lemon Drop’s locked in a dungeon and he can’t get ‘er out. Scares the hell outta ‘im …
 
That’s for sure … I didn’t think he’d ever calm down and go back to sleep,
 Buffy confirmed, rubbing a hand on Billy’s back as he slept next to her in his dinosaur pajamas.
 
Sorry, pet … he hasn’t had one in a while, Spike explained. Thought he’d maybe outgrown ‘em.
 
I guess not,
Buffy sighed, looking at her sleeping son.
 
Feel like a little trip, take your mind off your worries? Spike asked seductively.

 

Hmmmm … what did you have in mind?
 
Ever do it in a hot air balloon over the Alps?
Spike questioned. Buffy rolled her eyes at his endless imagination. Where did he come up with these ideas? Not that she was opposed…
 
Let me think … hmmmm, gee, I’m not sure… Buffy teased as she closed her eyes and willed herself back to sleep.
 
See you there …




**~** 


(Two days later), Friday, March 11th, 2010, 3pm:
 
“Never again! Never! How did I let you talk me into this!?” Tara screamed at Willow as another contraction hit her. She’d been in heavy labor for four hours. “Your turn is next, ya know! You get to push a basketball out your nose!”
 
Willow grimaced. It had been Tara’s idea to have the baby … it wasn’t like Willow had forced her to do it or even suggested it first … it had been all her wife’s idea from the very start. Willow loved the idea, of course, and encouraged Tara, and they approached Giles as a couple about it, but it was Tara’s idea. Willow stayed silent and tried to be supportive, it seemed best to not point any of that out to Tara just now.

“I’m sorry, baby … I know it hurts, but just a little more and it’ll be over…” Willow tried to assure her.
 
“Oh, sure! Easy for you to say! ‘Just a little more!’ … what a joke! It’s like pushing an elephant through a straw! Whoever came up with this brilliant life process was a sick sadist bastard! Someone needs to seriously re-think this whole thing!” Tara informed her before the next contraction hit.
 
“Probably a guy …” Willow agreed, looking at Giles, who was on the other side of Tara. Giles simply rolled his eyes and tried to remain out of the line of fire as Tara squeezed his hand and pushed with the contraction.
 
“Ok … I see the crown … keep pushing, Tara! One more good push and …” the doctor began before Tara’s ear-piercing scream cut her off. With one final, heroic, painful push, the head and shoulders of their son slipped through the ‘straw’. Tara collapsed back onto the bed, tears stinging her eyes, as the rest of Edmond Giles Rosenberg-Maclay entered the world.
 
The doctor cleaned the baby’s airway and laid the bloody, slimy, gooey, blotchy, crying bundle of joy on his mother’s abdomen … it was the most beautiful thing any of the three parents had ever seen.
 
“Dear Lord…” Giles muttered, reaching a hand out to touch the dark hair, still wet and matted down on his son’s head.
 
“Would you like to cut the cord?” the doctor asked Giles as the nurse clamped off the umbilical cord with surgical clamps.
 
“I … uhhhh … isn’t that what we’re paying you a small bloody fortune for?” Giles questioned, looking from the doctor back to his son whom Willow and Tara were beginning to clean with warm, soft, damp cloths given to them by the nurses.
 
The doctor just smiled and offered him the scissors and Giles took them hesitantly. “Indeed … well …” Giles cleared his throat and recited an old blessing that he thought would be appropriate as he welcomed his child into the world and cut the cord between mother and son …
 
“For every storm, may you find a rainbow,
For every tear, a smile,
For every care, a promise,
And a blessing in each trial.
For every problem life sends,
May you have a faithful friend to share,
For every sigh, a sweet song,
And an answer for each prayer.”
 

**~**


“See … that one,” Buffy tried to point to the newest member of the Scooby gang through the nursery window as she held Dani on one hip and Billy on the other so they could see. “The one in the blue … second row.”

 

“He looks … squished,” Dani observed, scrunching up her face.
 
“And he’s kinda … red …” Billy added, also making a face.
 
Buffy laughed. “Well … you were both squished and red when you were first born. He’ll grow out of it.”
 
“How long until his eyes open?” Billy asked, studying his new ‘cousin’ through the glass.
 
“Huh?” Buffy questioned, looking at him.
 
“Well, when we found those kittens that time behind Uncle Giles’ store … their eyes were closed,” Billy demonstrated by closing his eyes and moving his head around jerkily like a newborn kitten searching for its mother. He opened his eyes and looked at Buffy. “You said it would be a week ‘fore they would open their eyes … so how long until he opens his eyes?” he questioned again, looking back at Edmond.

 

Buffy chuckled lightly and put the twins down on their feet. “Baby people aren’t like kittens and puppies … he can open his eyes anytime … he’s just sleeping now,” Buffy explained to them.
 
“Did you see that handsome lad?” Giles beamed, walking up to where Buffy and the twins were standing near the nursery.
 
“Giles! Oh yes! He’s adorable!” Buffy gushed, giving the proud papa a hug. “He has your nose and chin … and Tara’s eyes!”
 
“He’s squished!” Dani pointed out.
 
“And red …” Billy added.
 
Giles laughed as he looked down at the twins then back to his son, sleeping peacefully. “Indeed, well, I recall that you were both rather squished and red, as well …”
 
“That’s what Mama said,” Billy confirmed, following Giles’ gaze through the nursery glass.
 
“Well then, it must be true …”

 


**~**

 
(A month later), Saturday, April 10th, 2010:
 
After Tara and Eddie got home and were settled in, Giles brought Buffy and the twins back to Sunnydale, then headed back to Washington. He left Anya in charge of the Magic Box and hired Buffy to help her while he stayed with Tara ,Willow, and Edmond for a few weeks – ‘paternity leave’, he called it. As Buffy worked with Anya, helping customers, stocking shelves, ordering supplies, and making the nightly deposits at the bank, an old idea turned into a plan in her mind …
 
When Giles made it into the Magic Box this morning, after being gone a month, both Buffy and Anya were waiting for him.
 
“Good morning, ladies!” he called brightly as he closed the door behind him and began pulling baby pictures out of pockets. “Have you seen the latest photographs of Edmond?”
 
Anya sighed. “Willow’s emailed a hundred pictures a day since he was born!” she informed him.
 
“Yes… but have you seen the latest? Willow just took them yesterday,” he continued, looking through the printed photographs that Willow sent him home with the previous day, picking out the most recent and handing them each a stack.
 
“He’s a baby … it’s not that big a deal, Giles,” Anya informed him. “Even Xander fathered one.”
 
Giles stopped and looked at her coldly before snatching the photos back from their hands, even though Buffy was actually looking at them. “Indeed. So … to what do I owe this early morning greeting? You haven’t sent me into bankruptcy while I’ve been gone, I hope!”

 

“Oh no – not at all. Buffy was a wonderful little helper and we made lots of beautiful money!” Anya assured him, wringing her hands in front of her nervously. “It’s so nice to have someone strong around that can carry the crates up from the store room! She’s waaaay more helpful than you.”
 
“I’m glad she met with your approval, Anya,” Giles replied sarcastically as he put the photos back in his pocket and headed to the back room to make a cup of tea.
 
Buffy and Anya followed him to the back. “In fact,” Anya continued, “we have a business proposition for you.”
 
Giles raised his brows and looked between the two women. “I really can’t afford to keep you both full time…” he began.
 
“No, no … that’s not it!” Anya assured him. “If I can get a supply of quality Mandrake root …”
 
“Or other herbs …” Buffy interjected.

 

“…for less than you’re paying now, can I keep half of the extra profit?” Anya finished.
 
Giles raised his brows; that wasn’t what he was expecting. He took his glasses off and polished them, buying time, then finally replaced them, looking back up at Anya. “I assure you that I have scoured the globe for the lowest price on quality Mandrake, Anya … you won’t find it any less expensive that what I have…”
 
“Right … but just suppose I could … then would we have a deal?” she pressed.
 
Giles shrugged, sure that she wouldn’t find it any cheaper … not of the quality their customers demanded. “Certainly, if they are genuine Mandrake ... not Mayapple roots, and they are whole, not powdered, we have a deal.”
 
Buffy and Anya both shrieked happily and hugged each other before turning and leaving Giles alone with his tea in the back room.
 
Giles watched them giggling and whispering conspiratorially as Anya walked Buffy to the door of the shop.
 
“See you later, Giles! Eddie is absolutely adorable!” Buffy called happily as she left the shop.
 
“Why do I think I’ve just been hornswoggled?”
 
 
Three weeks before … just after getting back after Edmond was born
 
Spike got up around noon and, after looking through the house for Buffy and not finding her, reached out through the bond for her. Where ya at, luv? he questioned as he grabbed a mug of blood from the refrigerator and popped it into the microwave.
 
In the garden …
 
Spike walked out the garden doors, but didn’t see Buffy. Whose bloody garden?
 
Ours … the rose garden …
 
Spike rolled his eyes and headed up to the backyard with his breakfast. He found Buffy covered in dirt and sweat … looking like she’d been rolling around in the muck all morning. He stopped and watched her work for a couple of minutes … she looked so cute in pink overalls and what used to be a white, but was now dirt streaked, t-shirt underneath. Her hair was pulled back and she had a light blue handkerchief tied around her head, holding her golden tresses away from her face. Her tummy was starting to fill out the lower part of the overalls and she had a glow about her, apart from the one caused by the work she was doing … he thought he’d never seen her look more beautiful.   
 
“Whatcha doin’?” he asked as he walked up to where she was … what was she doing? Making mud pies?


 
“Gardening …” Buffy replied as she finished clearing grass and weeds from a large patch of ground next to the rose garden. "It's typically what you do in a garden..."
 
Spike raised his brows and rolled his eyes. “I can see that, Slayer … you could grow bloody potatoes in the dirt on yer neck…” he pointed out. “What are ya planning to plant in the ground, though? Don’t think we can afford that many roses…”
 
Buffy blew a stray hair out of her eyes and wiped her face on the sleeve of her shirt as she sat the hoe down that she’d been using to clear the new area. “Mandrake root,” she announced confidently as she picked up some packages of seeds from the ground under a nearby tree and waved them in front of his face.

 

Spike’s brows furrowed as he took one of the packs from her hand and read it. “Ever grown Mandrake root ‘fore?”
 
Buffy shrugged. “No … but how hard can it be?” she questioned.
 
“You know it’s poison … don’t ya?” Spike pointed out.
 
“Yeah … that’s what those are for,” she confirmed, waving her arm at several sections of white picket fencing and fence posts.
 
Spike rolled his eyes … he knew he should’ve just stayed in bed. That looked like work … with his name on it.
 
“Where’d that come from?” Spike asked, indicating the fencing.
 
“Xander dropped them off this morning. I think he liberated them from some El Salvadorian Paramilitary Rebels…” Buffy quipped.
 
Spike rolled his eyes, remembering her contention that the tiles from the secondhand supply shop he’d used in the bathroom were stolen. “Oh, so yer fencing our garden with stolen pickets, are ya’? Plus, pickets … a bit dangerous for a vampire lair, don’t ya think?”

 

“Not stolen,” Buffy clarified, “liberated – and they’re plasticy-stuff, not wood.”
 
“Why are we growing Mandrake root, luv?” Spike asked, changing the subject, as Buffy began planting the small seeds in rows.
 
“’Cos I’m gonna make us a million dollars…” Buffy answered confidently, as she continued sowing the seeds.
 
“Are ya, now?” Spike furrowed his brow and looked at the seed pack in his hand again then shrugged. Spike had never seen anyone in Sunnydale growing mandrake … and with all the witches and wiccans and just ordinary, everyday, superstitious Sunnydale residents, you’d think someone would be growing it if it was that easy. He wondered if it would stand the southern California heat … but, who was he to rain on her parade? He opened the pack he had and started a row a couple of feet away from hers … he had to give her one thing, she wasn’t starting small … she was going for it. If these grew, she would make … well, not a million dollars, but a good amount, no doubt.
 
“Might want ta save some room for some Henbane, pet …” Spike suggested as he got to the end of his row.

 

“Yeah? You think that would sell good … errr … well?” Buffy asked, starting to sow yet another row of Mandrake seeds.
 
Spike shrugged. “Worth a shot … it attracts love and lust…” he informed her with a smirk.
 
Buffy snorted a soft laugh. “Not getting enough?” she questioned, looking up at him with a sly smile.
 
Buffy squealed as Spike reached out and grabbed her hand, yanking her against him. “Never get enough of you, luv…” he murmured against her ear.
 
“Mmmmmm … even though I’m all dirty?” she questioned.
 
“The dirtier the better, pet…” Spike growled against her neck as he pulled her body tighter against his and made her forget about the garden at her feet … at least for a little while.
 
**~**
 
(a week later, four weeks since planting the mandrake), Saturday, April 17th, 2010, 1am:
 
It was a slow night at Willy’s and Spike left early, leaving Faith to handle the few demons and humans left in the bar so he could get home early and surprise Buffy.   As he started down the stairs to the garden, he heard someone in the back yard. He stopped abruptly and turned, heading silently but quickly down the driveway, along the walkway next to the garage to the back of the house. When he rounded the corner of the garage, he was running full speed, but stopped short when he saw it was just Buffy in the backyard near her Mandrake patch. The seedlings had just started sprouting a few days ago and were barely an inch high; Buffy watered and weeded and tended to them every day after getting the kids off to school. Despite Spike’s worry that they wouldn’t grow well in the Southern California heat, so far, they seemed to be doing ok – of course, it wasn’t summer yet.

 

When Buffy heard him come around the corner, she stopped talking and turned quickly, ready to face an intruder.  “Spike! You’re early!” she exclaimed, putting her hands behind her back in an attempt to hide something … but she was too late.
 
“What ya’ doing, luv?” Spike asked, stalking up to her slowly.
 
“Nothing,” Buffy hedged, keeping her hands behind her.
 
“Who were ya talkin’ to?”
 
“No one …”

Spike cocked a brow at her, putting his hands on his hips. “What ya’ got behind your back?”

 

“Nothing.”
 
Spike sighed and dropped his arms dramatically to his sides. “You can’t be castin’ spells on the bloody plants, pet! Magic has consequences … you know that!”
 
“I wasn’t casting spells,” Buffy defended, still keeping her hands behind her back.
 
“No? What’s that book you’re hidin’ then?” Spike questioned as he reached with his left hand for the book she had behind her back.
 
“Nothing … not a spell book,” Buffy defended as she backed up and switched the book to the other hand, out of Spike’s reach, but Spike didn’t give up. He lunged quickly to the right, then back left again, making her try to switch the book back and forth too quickly and she dropped it. Spike swooped down and picked it up before she could get it and held it above his head, out of her reach.
 
“Give it back… it’s not spells!” Buffy demanded, reaching for the book.
 
“What the…” Spike started, looking at the cover. It was the book of love poems that he’d given her for their first anniversary.
 
When Spike dropped his arms, Buffy grabbed the book back from him. “See? I told you it wasn’t spells!” she defended angrily.
 
“Buffy … what’re ya doing, luv?” Spike asked, brows furrowed in confusion.
 
Buffy rolled her eyes and sighed, letting her arms fall to her sides. “You’ll think it’s dumb… you’ll laugh.”

“I doubt that … just tell me,” he requested, moving closer to her.

  

Buffy sighed again and looked down at the book. “I was just reading to them…” she shrugged her head, indicating the seedlings. “It’s my favorite book…”
 
Spike suppressed a grin, pulling his lips between his teeth and putting on a stoic, serious face. “Yeah … that … uhhh … that makes perfect sense…” he stammered. “Even plants need romance, I s’ppose.”
 
“You’re laughing …” Buffy accused, pursing her lips together and folding her arms indignantly on top of the little bulge in her belly.
 
“Am not!” Spike defended, fighting to keep a straight face. “Just gotta wonder why you’re romancin’ the plants, though… something I should know? A new fetish, is it?”
 
Buffy let her shoulders slump and turned away from him, walking back towards the oak tree on the side of the yard. “I’m not romancing them … they grow better if you talk to them…”
 
“Do they, now?” Spike questioned as he watched her walk away from him.
 
“Of course! Everybody knows that,” Buffy informed him. “I just… I don’t know what to say, so I just figured I’d read to them.”
 
Spike chuckled a soft laugh and shook his head. “You’re the most confounding woman I’ve ever known…”
 
“That’s not exactly a compliment coming from someone who spent a century with insano-Dru,” Buffy pointed out as she stopped walking and leaned against the tree.


 
Spike chuckled again and walked over to where she was, took the book from her hands and dropped a soft kiss on her lips. Spike pulled her away from the tree and turned her back to his chest as he turned around and then slid down until they were sitting at the base of it, his back leaning against the tall oak and her back against his chest. Spike nuzzled her ear and hugged his arms around her. “Big difference, Slayer, Dru was crazy … you’re crazy like a fox…”
 
“Oh … so you say now. Don’t try to wriggle out of it and get back on my good side. I see right through you,” Buffy informed him, as she relaxed against him on the cool grass under the tree.
 
“Do ya now? Well … then I’ll prove to ya that I’m not just sayin’ it… I’ll read to the plants too,” Spike began as he held the book in front of her and began flipping the pages, looking at it over her shoulder.
 
“It’s too dark under here…” Buffy protested. Out in the open, the full moon had illuminated the pages, under the oak tree, the moon was blocked.
 
“Not for me…” Spike pointed out as he stopped flipping pages and began to read to her … oh, and the plants …
 
“The fountains mingle with the river,
And the rivers with the ocean;
The winds of heaven mix forever
With a sweet emotion;
Nothing in the world is single;
All things by a law divine
In another's being mingle--
Why not I with thine?
 
“See, the mountains kiss high heaven,
And the waves clasp one another;
No sister flower could be forgiven
If it disdained its brother;
And the sunlight clasps the earth,
And the moonbeams kiss the sea;
What are all these kissings worth,
If thou kiss not me?”
 
Buffy turned her head to the side in silent invitation and Spike touched his lips to hers so gently she thought perhaps it was just the breeze … or the moonbeams the poem spoke of, for a moment, until she felt the familiar tingle stir deep within her … a feeling that only Spike could conjure.
 
“I love you,” Buffy murmured against his lips as she let her body melt back against his.
 
“I love you, Buffy …” Spike whispered softly, his breath tickling her lips as he laid the book down and wrapped his arms around her. “Even if you are romancin’ the bloody plants when I’m gone…”
 
“Jealous?” Buffy questioned, her voice teasing.
 
“Exceedingly …”
 
“Hmmmm … well, I better make it up to you then,” Buffy continued coyly. “How ‘bout we ‘mingle thine with mine’?”
 
“Sounds bloody divine.”

 

**~**
 
{{Click here to hear "Ordinary Miracle” by Sarah McLachlan on YouTube   }}

It’s not that unusual when everything is beautiful
It’s just another ordinary miracle today
The sky knows when it’s time to snow
Don’t need to teach a seed to grow
It’s just another ordinary miracle today

Life is like a gift they say, wrapped up for you everyday
Open up and find a way to give some of your own

Isn’t it remarkable like every time a raindrop falls
It’s just another ordinary miracle today
Birds and winter have their fling but always make it home by spring
It’s just another ordinary miracle today

When you wake up every day please don’t throw your dreams away
Hold them close to your heart cause we are all a part of the ordinary miracle
Ordinary miracle, do you wanna see a miracle?

Oooooooo

It seems so exceptional that things just work out after all
It’sjust another ordinary miracle today
The sun comes up and shines so bright and disappears again at night
It’sjust another ordinary miracle today

Oooooooo

It’s just another ordinary miracle today
End Notes:
TBC ... What happened ... no angst!? Gah! My muse must be slipping! Don't worry ... he'll get to it! {{cue evil laugh track}}
Hard Day's Night by Passion4Spike
Author's Notes:
Buffy and Spike put in a few hard day’s nights …
**
Music Referenced:
Hard Day’s Night, The Beatles
http://youtu.be/cD4TAgdS_Xw
**
Poem: Daffodils by William Wordsworth (1770-1850)
**
ScreenCaps courtesy of ScreenCap Paradise:
http://www.screencap-paradise.com/?cat=3
**
Special thanks to 'u2fan2005' and 'epd4' for their suggestions, corrections, and help betaing this chapter!!
(Two days later), Monday, April 19th, 2010, 2:30am:

 

Spike walked through the dark house easily and made his way upstairs. It had been a long night at Willy’s … spring fever or full moon fever or … some kind of fever seemed to be making everyone crazier than normal lately. Everyone just had to prove that they were the toughest, the meanest, the biggest, baddest bad in the bloody place … and it was Spike’s job to set them straight on that point. That actually was the easy part, the hard part was making sure they paid their bar tab before he tossed them out on their arses with a new understanding that he was the baddest bad.
 
After a night of fighting with drunk, smelly, obnoxious demons, he was looking forward to a little romance with his lady … then a good day’s sleep to get ready for the next wave of fevered demons and humans he’d face at the bar again later that night. Spike twirled the long-stemmed, dusty pink rose between his fingers as he headed up the stairs … yeah, a little time in his angel’s arms was just what the doctor ordered for his own fever…
 
Spike headed to the bathroom first and took a quick shower before slipping silently into their room and locking the door behind him. He knew something was wrong immediately, though … Buffy wasn’t there. “Bloody hell…” Spike muttered as he re-secured the towel around his hips and headed into the hallway, the rose still in his hand. It only took a second for his senses to find her …
 
Spike stood in the open doorway of the twin’s room and sighed heavily. Buffy was still in her clothes, fast asleep on Billy’s bed, curled over and around their sleeping son, as if to protect him from an unseen attacker. Billy must’ve had another one of those nightmares … they seemed to have stopped for a while, but now they were coming more and more frequently.
 
Spike blew out a long breath, looking down at the rose in hand as he twirled it slowly between his fingers. He may be the biggest, baddest bad in the land, able to defeat any and all challengers … but he was trumped by a frightened child every time. Spike laid the rose on the nightstand that stood between the twins’ beds and closed the door silently as he went back to his bed alone. It was gonna be a long night.
 
**~**
 
7:30am:



 
Spike twitched his foot and pulled it back under the covers when he felt something crawl across it. He’d finally gotten to sleep … it hadn’t been easy … he’d mentally recited some Hamlet from memory … “This above all: to thine own self be true, And it must follow, as the night the day, Thou canst not then be false to any man.” Then he tried a little Macbeth … “Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player, That struts and frets his hour upon the stage, And then is heard no more. It is a tale, Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, Signifying nothing.” But, what had finally worked was reciting ‘The Cat in the Hat’ … in French. Actually, he’d gotten all the way to … “Then we saw him pick up all the things that were down. He picked up the cake, and the rake and the gown … Il a ramassé le gâteau, et le râteau, et la robe, et le lait, et les ficelles…” before his mind finally gave in and let sleep win, but now something was intruding on his dreams of cats and hats and talking fish and flying kites in the house…
 
“Twirtled by a fish…” Spike muttered as he jerked his other foot away from whatever it was that was tickling it … he couldn’t quite get awake enough to even wonder what it was.
 
Buffy suppressed a giggle as she trailed the rose lightly across his toes where they stuck out from under the sheet and watched him pull his other foot away as he’d done the first. She lifted the sheet gently and trailed the soft petals of the rose down from the back of his knee to his ankle and Spike’s whole body jerked as he turned over and pulled away from the unwelcome interloper. She dropped the sheet and stepped back when he moved, but when he settled back under the covers and stilled, she began again, this time running the rose down from his shoulder along a bare arm that was sticking out, getting down to his elbow before he turned again and pulled the sheet over his head, covering his whole body, head to toe.
 
Buffy scrunched up her face and frowned in frustration … he wasn’t supposed to completely cover up! How was she supposed to tickle and tease him now? Buffy tugged on the top of the sheet, but he was holding it tight, it wouldn’t budge. Then she tried the bottom, but he had it tucked under his feet, it wasn’t budging either – he was completely wrapped up like a caterpillar in a cocoon. Buffy sighed and brought the rose to her nose, inhaling its sweet aroma, before setting it down on her pillow next to him and heading out to work off her extra energy in the garden; he probably needed the sleep more than anything else, anyway…
 
**~**
 
3:00pm:
 
Spike rolled over and reached his arm out for Buffy but found only empty bed beside him. He sighed and uncovered his head and looked at the clock … 3:00pm. Buffy would be waiting for the kids at the bus stop. The rose on her pillow caught his eye and he picked it up and breathed in the sweet fragrance … a fragrance that always made him think of her, of their wedding, of how beautiful she looked walking down the aisle towards him…
 
Spike sighed and rolled out of bed. Buffy would be back with the kids soon … he’d need to figure out something for dinner, spend a little time with the kids, then it would be time to head to work … again.
 
**~**
 
(early the next morning), Tuesday, April 20th, 2010, 2:15am:
 
Spike frowned as he walked down the stairs to the garden later that night after work, another dusty pink, long-stemmed rose in his hand – all the lights were on in the house … why were all the lights on?
 
“Wake up, Watcher…” Spike said as he shook Giles’ shoulder as he slept on the couch in the great room.
 
“I wasn’t sleeping … just … resting … my …” Giles yawned widely and sat up, “…eyes.”

 

“Yeah … bright as a bunny, you are. Surprised you ‘aven’t turned into a pumpkin, out at this hour. Where’s Buffy?” Spike questioned as Giles stood up stiffly from the couch and stretched.
 
“Lorne called … seems he’s having some problems with patrons being harassed as they left the club, asked her to patrol the area for him and keep the area clear …” Giles explained as he picked up his jacket from the nearby chair.
 
“Vampires?” Spike questioned.
 
“No, worse … religious zealots from that commune in the hills south of town … they’re trying to get his patrons to ‘repent’,” Giles clarified.
 
“Bloody hell…” Spike groaned, rolling his eyes.
 
Slayer! You ok? Need help? Spike sent through the bond.
 
Hey, baby … no, I’m fine, but I’m gonna be gone a while. Those nice folks who are trying to save everyone’s souls are having a little vampire trouble out at their compound. They said they’d stay away from the Bronze if I’d take care of their infestation … and Lorne’s gonna pay me extra if they stay away.
 
You aren’t goin’ out there alone, are ya!? Spike asked, deeply concerned.
 
What’s the matter, afraid they’ll reform me? Buffy teased.
 
Buffy… Spike moaned back to her.
 
Oh, alright … no, I picked Faith up, we’ll be fine… Buffy assured him. Don’t wait up for me…
 
Ok … be careful, pet, Spike sent back.
 
It’s my middle name…

 

Spike sighed heavily and looked back at Giles who had started towards the door. “’ere … maybe you can get lucky … I bloody well can’t,” Spike moaned, handing him the rose.
 
“Why, Spike … I didn’t know you cared,” Giles teased, taking the rose from his hand and raising it to his nose to inhale the fragrance.
 
“You need a bloody girlfriend,” Spike advised him as he turned and started trudging up the stairs to his empty bed.
 
“So I’ve been told …” Giles muttered as he passed through the doors to the garden.
 
**~**
 
6:00am:
 
When Buffy finally got in, it was nearly time for the kids to get up for school, so she didn’t even bother getting a shower until after she got them up, dressed, fed, and on the bus.
 
Spike smiled as he turned over and cuddled against her when his wife collapsed onto their bed a little while later. She’d been up for nearly twenty-four hours straight and she and Faith had taken out a nest of seven vamps near the ‘repenter’s’ homestead … but she’d made $500 in one night from Lorne for her trouble, which she split with Faith. Buffy moaned, turning onto her side, and wriggled her tired body back against his, it felt like absolute heaven to be lying next to him. Spike no sooner got his arm wrapped around her than Buffy’s heart rate and breathing slowed …
 
“Buffy?” Spike questioned, raising up on one elbow so he could see her face when he got no response – her eyes were closed, her breathing slow and steady.

 

“Slayer?” he tried again, shaking her shoulder lightly, which made her moan in protest and hug her pillow tightly to her chest.
 
Spike sighed and flopped back on the bed. “You might as well just forget it, mate… Slayer ain’t playin’,” Spike admonished his hard-on as he turned over and tried to find a way to go back to sleep. Le Chat Au Chapeau. Le soleil ne brilliat pas…

 

**~**

3:17pm:
 
Spike woke from a dream of tall, red and white striped hats chasing him and a smart-alecky, French cat in a bow-tie through the streets of Paris in the rain … he really needed to find another way to get to sleep. He rolled over and reached his arm out for Buffy but found only empty bed beside him. He sighed and uncovered his head and looked at the clock … 3:17pm. “Bloody hell,” he moaned. “Not again…” It had taken forever for him to get back to sleep and now he’d overslept … again!
 
Spike sighed and rolled out of bed … Buffy would be back with the kids soon … he’d need to figure out something for dinner, spend a little time with the kids, then it would be time to head to work … again – with no time in between for anything else. This was starting to sound like a broken record.
 
**~**
 
(Early the next morning), Wednesday, April 21st, 2010, 1:00am:
 
Spike rounded the corner of the garage and watched and listened from a distance as Buffy read to her plants. A tiny flashlight in her hand shone on the page she was reading as she walked back and forth, up and down the rows of mandrake seedlings. Whatever she was doing seemed to be working …they were growing nicely, maybe it was just that easy. Spike looked up at the one neighboring house that could actually see into their backyard from their second floor windows and wondered what those people must think about the nut-jobs living next door to them.
 
Spike turned his eyes back to his wife as she finished reading the poem she was on and flipped the page of the book. “Oh!” Buffy exclaimed as she held the small flashlight on the new page. “You guys are gonna love this one, it’s about your cousins! ‘Daffodils’ … by William Wordsworth,” she announced to her small, green, and mostly silent, audience.


 
"I wander'd lonely as a cloud
...That floats on high o'er vales and hills,
When all at once I saw a crowd,
...A host, of golden daffodils;
Beside the lake, beneath the trees,
Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.

“Continuous as the stars that shine
...And twinkle on the Milky Way,
They stretch'd in never-ending line
...Along the margin of a bay;
Ten thousand saw I at a glance,
Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.

“The waves beside them danced, but they
....Out-did the sparkling waves in glee;
A poet could not but be gay,
...In such a jocund company:
I gazed--and gazed--but little thought
What wealth the show to me had brought:

“For oft, when on my couch I lie
...In vacant or in pensive mood,
They flash upon that inward eye
...Which is the bliss of solitude;
And then my heart with pleasure fills,
And dances with the daffodils.”
 
When she finished, Spike applauded and stepped out of the shadow of the garage and into the open yard. Buffy turned quickly to see who it was and a smile replaced her concern as Spike moved into the light that shone into the backyard from the kitchen window. Buffy took an exaggerated bow, before stepping gingerly out of her mandrake and henbane patch, through the small picket gate, and onto the grass.


 
“And you said readin’ all them books in school was a waste o’ time… what with all those words and whatnot,” Spike teased with a smirk. “You read good.”
 
“I read well …” Buffy corrected him as she met him halfway and wrapped her arms around his neck.
 
“How come you’re home so early?” she asked before dropping a soft kiss on his lips.
 
“Is that a problem, Slayer? Should I leave? Need more alone time with your little green friends?” Spike questioned with a smirk as he wrapped his arms around her lower back and pulled her body against him.
 
“Uh-uh … no leaving allowed,” Buffy murmured against his lips as she captured his mouth with hers. The book of poems fell from her hands as Buffy tangled her fingers in his hair, loosening his soft locks from their gel prison. Spike ravaged her mouth with his lips and tongue and held her body tightly against his … God, he wanted her in the worst way.


 
Buffy felt a cauldron of molten steel begin to boil within her core, hotter than the surface of the sun, as Spike set her body ablaze with his. The burning liquid seemed to erupt from her loins and flow down her legs, up her torso, across her shoulders and arms until it consumed her entire being with its incandescence. She thought she would almost certainly combust at any moment if she didn’t have him and soon.
 
Spike’s cock threatened to pop the buttons on his jeans as it fought against its confines – fought to get to her. It felt like every ounce of blood in his body had settled below his belt as he kissed this inferno of desire that was his wife. Their lips demanding as much as they gave, their tongues sparring for dominance, their bodies melting together as if they were two pieces of steel, heated to white-hot luminescence by their own internal flames.
 
As if on cue, their hands began tugging and pulling on the other’s clothing … ripping hooks and buttons from their threaded anchors to get to bare skin. Spike’s shirt was ripped open from the collar, the buttons on Buffy’s were popped – flying in all directions before landing in the grass at their feet. Then Spike’s belt was being tugged loose and the snap on Buffy’s jeans was yanked open as the lovers collapsed onto the cool, damp grass in a frenzy of fire and passion as moans and cries of desire escaped their throats.

 
 

When Spike’s hands found the hot skin of Buffy’s breasts, she felt an explosion of red-hot sparks cascade over her body and she was certain she could melt into him at that moment … and she wanted nothing more than to do that. Her body longed to be one with him, to merge and flow in a heated river of lava down to the sea … turning the cool water into steam which they could ride together – up, up, up – higher than the clouds, higher than the stars … higher than heaven.



“No… Spike … stop…” Buffy muttered halfheartedly, still running her own hands over the hard muscles of his chest and stomach.
 
“No … no stop – go,” Spike muttered back in protest.
 
“The neighbors …” Buffy pointed out as he kissed a line of fire from her ear to her collarbone.
 
“Sod ‘em…” Spike murmured against her skin as he trailed his tongue lower.
 
“The babies…” Buffy continued, trying to look up at the windows at the back of the house to see if anyone was looking out.
 
“Are sleepin’ …” Spike assured her as he reached her tit and pulled her hot, hard nipple into his mouth and nibbled on it with his teeth.
 
“Bedroom…” Buffy requested even as her body arched and quivered, reacting to his touch and fought her brain for control.
 
“God, Spike … please!” Buffy begged, not sure herself what she was begging for; for him to stop so they could go upstairs to the privacy of their bedroom or for him to continue and give her what she needed right there in the backyard.
 
Spike roared in frustration, a tiny bit of blood finally making it back to his brain, and pushed up and off her and stood up. He pulled his torn and tattered t-shirt off and dropped it on the ground, then did his best to refasten his belt, but the buttons on his jeans were a lost cause – well, in fact, they seemed to be completely lost. When he’d done all he could to secure what remained of his clothing, he reached down and easily picked her up in his arms as she tried to hold her own clothes closed without the benefit of snaps and buttons.
 
Spike carried her with one arm around her back and one under her knees into the garage, through the great room and to the stairs. Buffy wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed and sucked and nibbled on his neck as he went … which really wasn’t helping any. If she knew how hard she was making it for him to walk, she’d stop that … well, maybe she would.
 
About halfway up the stairs Spike stopped. “Bloody hell…” he moaned as he rolled his head back and looked up at the ceiling.
 
“What? What’s wrong?” Buffy questioned, as she momentarily paused her hickey-raising sucks on his neck to listen … then she heard it too. Billy.
 
Buffy felt like a glacier of ice had just hardened the molten steel and lava that had only a moment before threatened to consume her. She and Spike both sighed heavily as Spike trudged dejectedly the rest of the way up the stairs before setting her on her feet at the top of the landing. Buffy ran to their room and grabbed a robe, pulling it over her ripped and ravaged clothes, then hurried to the twins’ room. Billy was still screaming and crying when she got there and Dani had awoken and turned the light on.
 
“Shhhhhh…. Shhhhhh, baby,” Buffy murmured against her son’s ear as she pulled him into a hug and tried to soothe him and allay the fears that his nightmare had instilled in him. “It’s ok, sweet boy, everything’s ok… Dani’s ok.”
 
Billy cried against her as he wrapped his arms around his mother tightly, trying desperately to wipe the images of his sister locked in a horrific dungeon from his mind. He tried so hard to get her out … night after night, but it was always the same, he couldn’t free her –he was helpless against the iron bars and heavy, locked doors of the cold, dark, cavernous jail.

 

Spike stood in the doorway of the twin’s room and wished there was something he could do for his son. He knew how real dreams and nightmares could seem, especially to a child, and how it felt to be helpless to save someone you loved. The nightmares that Spike had after Buffy died falling from the fire escape left him shaken and guilt-ridden. He still had them sometimes, and they still seemed just as real and just as frightening to him as that horrific night in L.A. when he let her down and she sacrificed everything for him and Annie.
 
Buffy’s eyes met Spike’s over the top of Billy’s head and she gave her husband an apologetic look. I’m sorry …
 
Spike shook his head and gave her a reassuring smile. No worries, pet …
 
Le Chat Au Chapeau. Le soleil ne brilliat pas…
 
**~**
 
7am:
 
The next morning, while Buffy was getting the kids their breakfast, Anya called to remind her that she had promised to work at the Magic Box – Giles was heading back to Willow and Tara’s for more father-son bonding time and would be gone the rest of the week. Between lack of sleep and worry about Billy (who would not let her leave his side the whole rest of the night; every time she got him back to sleep and tried to sneak away, he’d wake up and beg her not to go) and a horniness level she didn’t know existed, she had totally forgotten about working for Giles.
 
Oh well – horniness would just have to wait another day. She left Spike a note and, after seeing the kids onto their buses, she went to the Magic Box … she hoped to God that Anya wouldn’t have some new orgasm story to share with her today. Since Xander stopped drinking after the Scooby meeting when he learned of his alter-ego’s early death, things had improved between the pair. Although still up against it financially, their love life had taken a turn for the better – much to Anya’s delight. Buffy really didn’t think she could take one of the ex-demon’s detailed stories of erotica or the new position or game they’d tried the previous night right now.
 
**~**
 
Spike awoke about mid-day to find the house empty and a note from Buffy waiting for him on the refrigerator … she was at the Magic Box. That meant he’d need to pick the kids up at the bus stop – then it would be a whirlwind of homework and arguments and videogames and dinner and Buffy would be home just in time for him to head out to Willy’s for his shift. He cursed to himself as he got the blood from the fridge, slamming the door closed and rattling everything in it, retrieving a mug from the cupboard and slamming that door closed, popping the mug into the microwave and slamming that door closed …
 
Didn’t being married to a wild angel mean you never had to wonder when you’d get lucky again? Wasn’t sex pretty much anytime you wanted one of the perks of marriage for both of them? Not having to go through days with a constant bulge in your jeans and nights reciting ‘The Cat in the Hat’ in French? Humph! That’s what it should mean … but it wasn’t working that way of late. He could barely remember the last time he’d had to take comfort with Mother Palm and her five daughters … but that looked like the only relief he’d get on this day, and he, along with the buttons on his jeans, had to have some relief.
 
**~**
 
Buffy ran in just as Spike was setting a large salad, a pot of spaghetti, and a platter of garlic bread on the table. All the kids were in their seats, hands and faces washed, waiting to be served. Although she and Spike had ‘talked’ back and forth throughout the afternoon, the shop had been too busy with customers for Buffy to even take a lunch break. Moments like this made her so glad that Spike had taken over the cooking, otherwise it would’ve been French fries and double cheeseburgers from McDonald’s – which the kids would’ve loved, but wasn’t the most nutritious thing in the world to feed growing bodies.
 
Spike stopped what he was doing and pulled her to him as she came in, dropping a soft kiss on her lips. The bulge that had finally disappeared from the front of his jeans after a couple of visits to Mother Palm, began growing again as Buffy leaned against him, wrapped her arms around his neck, and returned his kiss. Let’s face it, wanking off just wasn’t the same as a warm, heavenly body pressed against you, sweet lips to taste and tease, and the heated bliss you could achieve together.
 


JJ, Dani, and Billy started making choking sounds after the kiss lasted longer than a typical ‘peck on the lips’, welcome home kiss, bringing Buffy and Spike back to the moment. Buffy leaned her forehead against Spike’s for a few moments as she got breath back into her lungs and tried to make sure her knees wouldn’t wobble before pulling back and giving him another apologetic smile. Spike shrugged as he pulled away from her, happy that he had on his ‘kiss the cook’ apron covering his waist, and points lower, at that moment. Buffy gave all the kids kisses as Spike went back to serving up their dinner. When everyone was served, conversations about school and the new soccer league that they’d gotten Dani into and dance and teachers and TV shows and homework filled the kitchen as they ate, Buffy at one end of the table and Spike at the other, connected only by wistful glances, which were lost on the children, as they prattled on happily about their days.
 
After dinner, Buffy walked Spike out to the garden as he headed for work.
 
“I don’t give a bloody damn if the world comes to an end t’night, pet … you and me need some time to ourselves,” Spike’s voice rumbled against her ear after their kiss ended.
 
“Hell or high water,” Buffy agreed, trailing her hand down his chest, over his belt, and settling it on the strained denim of his jeans.
 
Spike closed his eyes and took a sharp breath when her hand settled on his hard cock – even through the thick material of his jeans it felt better than his hand had felt in the shower earlier.
 
“You better go … you’ll be late,” Buffy whispered, grudgingly dropping her hand away and pulling Spike from fantasies of a quickie behind the fountain or under the garden stairs.

 

Spike blew out a breath, opened his eyes and nodded. “T’night,” he assured them both and Buffy nodded resolutely.
 
**~**
 
Spike stomped through the backdoor of Willy’s and opened his locker, banging the metal door back against the one next to it with a loud CLANG before pulling out the lightweight, black jacket with the word ‘Security’ silkscreened in bright yellow on the back. Spike slammed the locker shut and slipped the jacket on before taking his timecard from the slot and punching in. He nearly took the time clock down off the wall in the process – giving the term ‘punching in’ a whole new meaning as he banged down on the clock with his fist to stamp the time on the card.
 
As he strode out of the storeroom towards the bar, Willy called to him from his office.
 
“Spike! Can I have word, man?”
 
Spike stopped and rolled his eyes, what now?
 
“I wasn’t late …” Spike pointed out as he entered his boss’ office.
 
“Yeah, Spike, I know. I just want to talk to you a minute,” Willy started, standing up but staying behind his desk. “I don’t know what’s up with you lately, but you need to take it down a notch.”
 
Spike raised his brows and hooked his thumbs over his belt buckle, waiting for the rest of the sermon.
 
“I mean … I know we all have off days, but you were over the top last night, man,” Willy continued. “You tossed three guys out without collecting their tabs, beat the shit out of one of my best paying customers, and ran two of my girls off,” Willy listed Spike’s indiscretions. “You’re killin’ me, man.”
 
Spike narrowed his eyes at the weasel he called his boss and bit his bottom lip thinking that if he thought Spike was killing him last night, that he could give the wanker a proper demonstration of a real killing right now.

 

When Spike didn’t say anything, Willy got a little braver and continued, “The next guy you toss out without collecting their tab, I’m gonna take it out of your pay,” Willy informed him. “And don’t scare my girls off – I get a percentage of their take. I can’t afford to lose that booty income or I won’t be able to pay you and Faith both,” Willy threatened.
 
Spike growled low under his breath. He hated being threatened … especially by a two-faced prat like Willy, someone he could shred into ribbons without even breaking a sweat.
 
“Now, don’t be that way, Spike,” Willy cajoled, changing to a friendly tone. “It’s nothing personal, but I gotta make a living here – that’s how it works. If I don’t make money, you don’t make money – capisce?”
 
Spike dropped his hands to his sides and balled them into tight fists. It felt like every muscle in his body would explode if he didn’t rip this wanker’s head off and eat his brains in the next three seconds …
 
“I just need you to chill out, man … that’s all. Just do your job, don’t get rough with the paying customers, and stop scaring the girls off – can you do that? Please?” Willy added the last word as an afterthought, just to try and make it sound more like a request than an order – he knew Spike hated to be ordered around.
 
Spike didn’t trust himself to stay in the room with the wanker any longer and didn’t trust himself to speak, so he turned on his heel and slammed the door on his way out of his boss’ office, splintering the jamb and nearly ripping it off its hinges. He headed back through the storeroom and out into the alley behind the bar where he picked up a two-by-four that was lying on the ground and began beating the shit out the dumpster.
 
“Hey, Spike … whatcha doing, buddy?” Clem asked as he walked out the back door of the bar. He knew Willy was gonna have ‘a talk’ with Spike … and that was never good.
 
“What’s it look like I’m bloody doin’?” Spike growled as he continued beating the dumpster, which he thought had an uncanny resemblance to his wanker boss’ face.
 
“Redecorating the alley?” Clem guessed, keeping his distance.
 
Spike let out a long, angry roar and threw the two-by-four against the back wall of the bar, feeling only slightly better for his victory over the dumpster. "That bloody wanker wants to threaten me!? ME!? I outta rip his bloody lungs out!" Spike ranted before smashing his fist against the red brick wall of the bar and punching a hole all the way through.



Clem flinched and backed up a step when Spike pulled his fist back out, raining plaster, sand, and broken pieces of red brick down onto the pavement of the alley.
 
“I’m losin’ my bloody mind!” Spike admitted to his friend, pulling on his hair with both hands before telling him that he hadn’t had a minute alone with Buffy for days.

 

“Days, huh?” Clem questioned, shaking his head in sympathy. “That’s rough man …” he agreed, although he never thought Buffy was all that attractive … what with her tight, tan skin, all that long hair, and those green eyes … ewwww. But apparently Spike liked her well enough. “Maybe Willy would let you have a poke with Cheval … you know – on the house.”
 
Spike put his hands on his hips and glared at Clem … but then just shook his head. “Not really my type, mate… too many antennas poking out in all directions,” Spike explained, using his fingers to imitate antennas coming out of the top of his head and face.
 
“That’s the best part of her, man!” Clem informed him. “Have you seen what she can do with those antennas?!”
 
Spike chuckled softly and shook his head as he started walking towards the backdoor of the bar. “Might be worth it if she could get in the Sky Sports Channel on ‘em,” Spike offered as he patted his friend on the back on his way by.
 
“Oh … yeah, she can do that too – but it costs extra,” Clem assured him as he turned and followed him in.
 
When Spike walked into the bar, everyone seemed to lower their voices and give him wary glances. He’d been hell to live with the last few nights, no one wanted to feel his wrath. Spike rolled his eyes, grabbed a beer, and took his regular seat at a back table where he could watch and listen to everything that was going on. When Cheval walked in, Spike followed her with his eyes, his mind involuntarily imagining just what she could do with all those antennas … apart from getting in football matches on the telly. Spike wrestled those thoughts from his mind and blew out a long breath … it was gonna be another hard day’s night.
 
**~**
 
Spike had just come back in from ‘escorting’ two Drakmar demons out of the club and collecting their bar tabs after they started a pissing contest standing at the dartboard throw line … a literal pissing contest. As Spike laid the money on the bar for Willy, his boss stopped him. “Hey man, could you bring me a case of Crown from the backroom?” he requested of Spike.
 
Spike looked at him incredulously, turning his back so the word ‘Security’ on his jacket was facing his boss. “Security, mate … not a bloody stock boy,” Spike informed him tersely as he started back towards his seat.
 
“Joe’s on break,” Willy explained. “Can you just get me a case of Crown from the backroom? I’m totally dry here … if I’m out, I can’t sell it; if I can’t sell it, I can’t make money; if I don’t make money …” Willy let his voice trail off with a shrug.
 
Spike rolled his eyes, remembering his earlier contention that if Willy didn’t make money, Spike didn’t make money. “Bloody worthless wanker…” Spike muttered under his breath as he headed towards the storeroom.
 
Spike was searching through the storeroom for the Crown Royal, getting more and more agitated the longer it took. He heard the door open and close … no doubt Willy had sent someone to prod him along. “Tell the wanker to sod off! I’m bloody well lookin’ for it!” Spike called back over his shoulder without turning around.
 
“Well … maybe I can help you find it,” Buffy cooed as she locked the storeroom door behind her.
 
Spike turned and quickly stood up from where he was crouched down checking the cases on the bottom shelves. “Buffy!” he exclaimed in surprise, moving out from between the tall shelves that held cases of beer and booze. His first thought was that something was wrong with one of the bits … but as he turned the corner around the shelves and she came into view, his worry faded.
 
Spike stopped in his tracks and a sexy smirk came to his lips. His wife was striking a pose near the door with nothing on but a short, black raincoat and three inch heels.

  

When he just stared at her, Buffy began walking slowly across the floor towards him, taking her time as she began unfastening the buttons on the coat. “What is it you were looking for?” Buffy questioned as she came within reach of him.

  

“I … uhhh …” Spike muttered as she trailed a finger down his chest and settled her hand on his belt buckle. “…Not a buggering clue …”
 
Spike felt his brain sputter and choke then fizzle completely, like a gasoline motor that had been fed diesel fuel.
 
“Well, aren’t you gonna kiss me?” Buffy questioned coquettishly, batting her lashes at him, as she outlined the bulge in Spike’s jeans delicately with her fingernail.
 
“Huh? Uhhhh … oh, ummm,” Spike dropped his gaze down to her hand as it slowly traced the outline of his cock in his jeans, then shook his head, trying to clear it. Obviously he was delusional … this was some kind of daydream or something, like Cheval and her antennas … he really needed to get laid in the worst way.
 
When he looked back up at Buffy, she raised her brows expectantly and smiled at him before touching a manicured finger to her lips. “Kiss ... you know, where your lips and my lips try to suck each other’s faces off?” Buffy teased as she leaned in and brushed her lips softly against his.
 
Like a dead battery getting a jump from another, her lips touching his seemed to recharge his brain and he realized that it wasn’t a dream or a delusion … it was actually Buffy standing in front of him half naked. “God, Buffy …” Spike moaned as he wrapped his arms around her and yanked her against him, capturing her lips in a crazed attempt to suck her face off.

 

Buffy squealed in surprise when he suddenly jerked her against him, but recovered quickly and returned his kiss with as much feverish passion as he was delivering, wrapping her arms around his neck and lifting herself up as she wrapped her legs around his waist.
 
“Oh fuck … oh God, Buffy …” Spike muttered as he turned and pressed her against the closest wall. His cock throbbed and strained against his jeans and Buffy reached between them to release it from its prison. She didn’t even get all the buttons ripped off his jeans before his rod sprang into her hand, hard and yearning.
 
“Oh Spike … fuck me … fuck me baby …” Buffy begged as she stroked his shaft roughly, nearly bringing him to climax right then.
 
Spike roared and grabbed Buffy by the hips as she lowered down on him and he thrust up – burying his cock in her in one hard, fast stroke.

 

“OH GOD!” they both exclaimed at once as the hot lava that had been held at bay for so long broke free and began boiling once again. They both pulled back and looked into their lover’s eyes as the white-hot molten passion within them swirled and coursed through their veins, threatening to melt them into one being.
 
Chill bumps sprang up on Buffy’s skin, racing over her body like waves of cool water over the burning, sun-drenched, black sand of a volcanic beach as the first orgasm she’d had in days ricocheted through her body. She gasped as her pussy shuddered and tightened around his hardness, carrying her higher up the mountain … closer and closer to complete nirvana.
 
Spike began moving against her, with powerful thrusts of his hips, pounding her against the wall at her back. Buffy was soon matching his rhythm, using her legs for leverage, lifting up and pounding down on him as he thrust up. Unable to find any purchase on the wall at her back, she steadied herself on his strong shoulders as all the pent up frustration came to a head within them and exploded like Mount Vesuvius … and they were Pompeii and Herculaneum, standing directly in the path of destruction.

 

Spike tried to hold back … to keep his cum from surging up into her too soon, but it was a lost cause. Her hot pussy engulfing him, squeezing his rod with excruciating pleasure, was more than his deprived body could fight for very long. Spike growled against her chest, trying to get his mouth to her breast, but she hadn’t quite gotten the coat unbuttoned enough. Buffy let go of his shoulders and ripped her coat the rest of the way open and Spike latched onto one hot, hard nipple just as he lost the last thread of control and his cum shot into her in an eruption of utter bliss.
 
Buffy felt his cock pulse and throb as his cum boiled into her pussy and it sent her higher up the mountain, to the edge of the cliff once again, but the highest peak was still just out of reach …
 
“Bite me!” Buffy demanded as Spike continued slamming into her, his cock still hard, still yearning for her. “God, Spike … bite me!” she screamed.
 
Spike hesitated momentarily, the vision of his demon trying to kill her in purgatory flashing in his mind. She hadn’t invited the demon into their bed since …
 
Spike slowed his movements and pulled back to look at her, his blue eyes unsure, questioning.
 
Buffy leaned forward, her mouth against his ear. “I trust you … take me there, Spike … come with me all the way to heaven,” she whispered to him.
 
Spike allowed the demon to the surface … her neck only an inch from his deadly fangs. He could hear and feel her blood racing just under her golden skin, he could smell her arousal as her juices covered him, hear her heart thundering in her chest… and he gave the demon the reins.
 
Spike growled against her skin as he slammed his hips against her harder and faster and sank his razor sharp fangs into the damp, salty skin of her neck. As the first taste of boiling Slayer blood trickled down his throat, Spike roared in fevered rapture and the lava in his gut flowed out, engulfing him in a blazing force of nature that nothing could contain.

 

Buffy felt white-hot sparks cascading down her body from Spike’s bite as the passion in her core boiled hotter and higher, flowing upwards to meet the falling sparks, filling her with an inferno of molten bliss.
 
Buffy screamed and her body tensed and bucked against him as she reached the top of the highest mountain and exploded high into the air in a fiery eruption of utter ecstasy. Their bodies became nothing more than afterthoughts as the lovers flowed unencumbered down the mountain in a blaze of undulating, twisting, sinuous lava – bound for the sea far below. Their souls seemed to touch then part … then wind their way back again as their bodies climaxed, consuming them in wave after wave of torrid, burning magma.
 
As they reached the cool, blue-green water of the sea, their blazing heat flowed in sultry rivers of passion down into the bottomless ocean. The clear water boiled and sizzled when they touched it, then transformed into searing steam, which lifted them up … up past the top of the mountain, beyond the moon, beyond the sun. Higher and higher they rose; vaporous, diaphanous wisps of ecstasy, swirling around each other, mingling and separating and joining again as their bodies found the release they so desperately needed and their spirits soared unencumbered through the heavens.

 

Spike’s legs wobbled and his knees gave way under them and the lovers tumbled to the floor of the stockroom … bringing their spirits back down to earth with a loud thud. Spike held to Buffy, keeping her atop him and sheltered from the impact, as the lovers landed in a glorious heap on the floor.
 
Buffy was trying to get her breath back, to get air back into her lungs and oxygen to her brain, but the abrupt end to their fantastic voyage caused her to burst into uncontrollable laughter when she landed on top of her husband. All the tension and longing and frustration were lifted from her body and mind and replaced with joy and a feeling of wholeness that made every nerve ending in her body giggle and squeal with delight. Buffy pushed up and sat back on Spike’s hips when she finally got her laughing fit reduced to a giddy grin and looked down at him.
 
His hair, which had been perfectly coiffed – straight and flat, when she came into the room, was now a tangle of curls and spikes; his blue eyes, which had been first angry then confused, where now full of mirth as he looked up into hers; his shoulders, before full of tension were relaxed and, of course, his cock, before engorged and neglected, was finally blissfully exhausted under her.
 
“You ripped my coat,” Buffy accused with a pout, tugging on the raincoat and looking at the loose threads that once held buttons.
 
“Bollocks … you ripped your bloody coat,” Spike reminded her. “You also tore the buttons off m’ jeans … second pair in two bloody days…” he retaliated. “You need to learn to sew – we can’t afford new wardrobes every week.”
 
“Hmmph,” Buffy sniffed haughtily, looking around the floor, which was littered with buttons. “You can sew them back on. I ripped ‘em off – my job here is done.”
 
Spike laughed – that deep, contagious laugh that started deep in his gut and reverberated through the whole room. Figured she’d find a way to get out of sewing and lay it on him. Truth be told, though … he’d be happy to sew the buttons back on as many times as she wanted to rip them off, because the bits in between the ripping and the sewing were some of most incredible times he’d ever known.
 
Buffy laid her body down against his, resting her head on his shoulder and sighed dreamily, not wanting to let the moment end, holding on for just a few minutes longer.
 
“Where’re the bits?” Spike asked as he wrapped his arms around her, knowing it was past their bedtime.
 
“Clem’s watching them…” Buffy informed him with a contented sigh.
 
Spike’s brows shot up. “Is he, now? And whose idea was that?”
 
“He came by … said you needed some help … help that Faith couldn’t give you.”
 
Spike shook his head. “Clem’s a mate … best mate I’ve ever had.”
 
Buffy nodded her agreement. “He also said something about us getting Sky Sports Channel … but I don’t know what that meant.”
 
Spike laughed again and rolled his eyes. “No worries … don’t need any antennas when I got you, luv.”
 
**~**
 
When Spike and Buffy emerged from the storeroom a little while later, her with one of his extra t-shirts on under her torn raincoat and he having changed into the extra pair of jeans he kept in his locker, the entire bar erupted in applause.

 

Spike, of course, smirked and took a deep bow.
 
“Get over yourself, Spike!” Willy called from behind the bar as he poured a glass of Crown Royal on the rocks for a Fyarl demon. “We’re applauding the Slayer!”


 
Spike shrugged and waved a hand back towards his lovely assistant and the applause grew louder and was joined with hoots and hollers and wolf-whistles. Buffy blushed, but curtsied to her adoring fans, holding her torn coat closed with one hand, still unable to wipe the giddy grin off her lips.
 
“A toast to Buffy, the Vampire Tamer!” someone in the crowd called out and everyone chanted, “Here, here!” and raised their glasses in a toast.
 
Buffy laughed and leaned against Spike as he tucked her under his arm and held her close. “Well … it’s a hard job, but somebody’s got to do it…” she laughed, wrapping her arms around his waist as the bar erupted in cheers and laughter. If anyone could slay Spike’s bad mood, it was Buffy.

 **~**

{{Click here to hear "Hard Day’s Night” by The Beatles on YouTube  }}


It's been a hard day's night, and I've been working like a dog
It's been a hard day's night, I should be sleeping like a log
But when I get home to you I find the things that you do
Will make me feel alright

You know I work all day to get you money to buy you things
And it's worth it just to hear you say you're gonna give me everything
So why on earth should I moan, 'cause when I get you alone
You know I feel okay
When I'm home everything seems to be right
When I'm home feeling you holding me tight,tight,yeah
It's been a hard day's night, and I've been working like a dog
It's been a hard day's night, I should be sleeping like a log
But when I get home to you I find the things that you do
Will make me feel alright

Owwww


So why on earth should I moan, 'cause when I get you alone
You know I feel okay
When I'm home everything seems to be right
When I'm home feeling you holding me tight, tight,yeah

It's been a hard day's night, and I've been working like a dog
It's been a hard day's night, I should be sleeping like a log
But when I get home to you I find the things that you do
Will make me feel alright
You know I feel alright
You know I feel alright...

End Notes:
TBC ...What the frilly heck?! Another chapter with basically no angst?!? What's going on here?! My blue-eyed muse is really slipping! I better whip him back into shape ...
Dreamweaver by Passion4Spike
Author's Notes:
Buffy goes into Billy’s dreams to try and stop his nightmares, but will she succeed or find a whole new nightmare of her own?
**
Music Referenced:
Dreamweaver, Gary Wright
 http://youtu.be/jPWNsGFXCZk
**
ScreenCaps courtesy of ScreenCap Paradise:
http://www.screencap-paradise.com/?cat=3
**
Special thanks to 'u2fan2005' and 'epd4' for their suggestions, corrections, and help betaing this chapter!!
(The next afternoon), Thursday, April 22nd, 2010, 1:00pm:
 
Spike was awoken by the phone ringing … he covered his head with a pillow and tried to ignore it – Buffy was at the Magic Box, the machine could get it.
 
“Mr. or Mrs. Weckerly,” the female voice on the machine started. “This is Principal LaRue at Wilkins Elementary … we need someone to come pick Billy up, I’m afraid he’s … well, he’s quite upset, apparently he had a nightmare at nap time and is inconsolable…”
 
Spike grabbed the phone up, “’Ello?” he started and the principal explained the same thing again. “I’ll be right there …” Spike assure her as he jumped out of bed and pulled on his clothes.
 
Billy was in the nurse’s office at the elementary school when Spike got there, sitting on the cot with his knees pulled up to his chest, his arms wrapped around his legs and his head resting against them. Labored breaths mixed with sobs and sniffles was all that could be heard from the small room. Spike sat down on the cot next to his son and wrapped an arm around him and Billy immediately latched onto Spike like he was a life preserver in the middle of an ocean.
 
“It’s ok now, Junior …” Spike assured him as he stroked a comforting hand down Billy’s back. “What happened?”
 
“Dani … the door … too … heavy … wants … out …” Billy choked out between deep breaths on the verge of hyperventilating.
 
Spike blew out a long breath … this was getting to be more than just a normal childhood nightmare now. “Ok … listen now, little man,” Spike admonished his son, pushing him back so he could look into his eyes. “We’ll get ‘er out … I’ll help ya, yeah? How would that be?”
 
Billy nodded and hugged back around Spike with arms and legs like a clingy little monkey and Spike stood up with him. “We’ll go ‘ome and get Red to mojo me into your dreams, yeah?”
 
“Can you get Dani out?” Billy questioned quietly as Spike walked down the hall with him. “Maybe we need Mama…” his son suggested.
 
“You think your mum’s stronger than me?” Spike questioned incredulously.

 

“Uh-huh …” Billy affirmed.
 
“P-leease!” Spike exclaimed as he reached the door and headed out into the parking lot his son still clinging to him tightly. “I could out thumb-wrestle her any day of the bloody week…” Spike claimed.
 
“Unt-uh,” Billy disagreed. “I want Mama … I bet she could open the door,” he insisted.
 
“Oh, bloody hell…” Spike muttered, rolling his eyes. It was hard to be your son’s hero with the Slayer for a mum.
  
**~**
 
9:00pm:
 
“Ok … did you get all the ingredients for the tea and mix it all up?” Willow asked on the speaker phone in the research area.

 

“Got it, Wills,” Buffy confirmed, smelling the amber liquid in the glass and making a face.
 
“Maybe you should go, after all,” Buffy suggested, offering Spike the stinking tea.
  
“Naaaa … your son wants the Slayer,” Spike declined, backing up and turning his face away from the offending drink.
 
“You know, if it was Dani or Annie, they would’ve wanted you to go … it’s just how kids are. It’s not because he doesn’t think you can do it or doesn’t love you,” Buffy tried to assure her husband.

 

“Yeah, I get it …” Spike sighed. He knew what she was saying was probably true, but it didn’t make him feel much better about his son wanting Buffy go help free Dani and put an end to his nightmares rather than him.
 
“Ok, you remember how this works,” Willow continued on the speaker phone. “You drink it, I’ll do the spell, then you just think about whose dreams you want to join. When you want to wake up, just say ‘wake up now’,” she reminded Buffy.
 
Spike had gotten Faith to cover his shift at Willy's so he could be here when Buffy jumped into Billy’s nightmare … just in case. Billy had been in bed for about twenty minutes … they figured he should be starting to dream soon, but they didn’t know when the dungeon dream would happen. Buffy would just have to hang around with him until it did.
 
“Got it,” Buffy acknowledged the witch as she held her breath and gulped the bitter tea down in one swallow, making a horrible face and sticking her tongue out afterwards. “Bleack! Ughh … why can’t magical tea taste like chocolate?” she questioned rhetorically, still shaking her head from the taste it left in her mouth.

 

“Ok … lay down and I’ll do the spell,” Willow instructed over the phone.
 
Buffy gave Spike a kiss. “Be back soon …” she assured him.
 
“Be careful …” he admonished her as he walked her to the couch. Buffy gave him a reassuring smile before lying down and closing her eyes. The moment that Willow finished reciting the spell, Buffy was fast asleep.
 
**~**
 
Buffy wasn’t sure what to expect when she ‘awoke’ inside Billy’s dreams. She stood in a dense rainforest, the canopy of enormous trees blocked the sun out completely – everything seemed larger than life. She looked around, but didn’t see Billy, or anyone for that matter, so she started walking, picking a direction at random. She climbed over boulders and fallen logs the size of Mack trucks and finally made it to the edge of the forest where it met a grassy savannah. The sun was high in the sky and hot on her skin as she kept walking … not sure where Billy was in this dreamland. Suddenly she heard a loud and ferocious growling sound and what felt like an earthquake. ‘BOOM, BOOM, BOOM’ shook the ground at her feet, but before she could turn around to see what was making the sounds, she was lifted high up into the air. Buffy fought against whatever had her, but she was no match for the Brachiosaurus which held her in its jaws thirty feet above the ground.
 
“Put me down!” Buffy demanded of the dinosaur, its breath damp and hot on her back where it had hooked her belt in its large, yellow teeth.
 
“Mama!” Billy cried from the ground below her.
 
When Buffy looked down, Billy and Dani were there. Both of them were smiling and waving at her like she was on a Ferris Wheel at that fair, not about to be eaten by an overgrown lizard.
 
“Get me down!” Buffy called to them. “NOW!”
 
“Bob won’t hurt you …” Billy assured her.
 
“Bob?” Buffy questioned. “Tell Bob to PUT ME DOWN!”
 
Billy walked over to the dinosaur and tapped him on the leg. “Mama says to put her down, Bob. You’re scaring her…”
 
The dinosaur whined like a hurt puppy and lowered his head and gently set Buffy on her feet. She pulled her belt off its teeth and finally stepped away from Billy’s seventy ton ‘puppy’.
 
“What the hel-ck is that thing!?” Buffy questioned her son when she’d gotten a safe distance away from … Bob.

 

“This is our friend, Bob the Brachiosaurus,” Billy informed her proudly, patting a hand on Bob’s huge nose. “He won’t hurt you … he doesn’t eat people.”
 
“He’s a vegetable-tarian,” Dani added.
 
“Oh ... well, that’s good to know …” Buffy stammered, still looking at Bob with suspicion.
 
“Bob, this is my mama!” Billy introduced Buffy and Bob snorted a greeting, blowing hot, smelly, wet air over Buffy and nearly knocking her to the ground.
 
“Nice to meet you…” Buffy muttered when she’d caught her balance and cleared the stench from her nostrils, it didn’t come out as sincerely as she’d hoped.
 
“Where are we?” Buffy questioned, looking around.
 
“Jurassic Park,” Billy informed her – it was his favorite movie at the moment; he’d seen it, and its sequels, twenty times at least.
 
Buffy’s eyebrows shot up. “Aren’t there like … people-eating type dinosaurs in Jurassic Park?” she questioned, scanning the horizon for danger.
 
Billy shrugged. “No … not here, mostly it’s just us and Bob …”
 
“And sometimes Puff comes to play,” Dani added.
 
“Puff?”

 

“You know … the Magic Dragon? He can breathe fire and fly. But he never breathes on us...”

"How do you know Puff the Magic Dragon?" Buffy wondered.

"Papa sings it to us sometimes ..." Billy explained. "♫ Puff the Magic Dragon, lived by the sea , and frolicked in the autumn mist in a land called Honah Lee..." Billy began to sing.



Dani socked her brother in the arm to get him to stop singing and Billy yelped in pain, rubbing his arm where she hit him. "We felt bad for Puff, 'cos his friend went away and he was sad ... so we let him come play with us," Dani told Buffy. "But he doesn't always come ... I think he has a few friends now, not just that one little boy. That's better, I think..."

Buffy nodded and scanned the sky … her son played with dragons and dinosaurs in his dreams, she wondered if that was normal … But wait … was this Billy’s dream or Dani’s? She’d thought of Billy as she was going to sleep, but why was Dani here? Did Billy dream her here or was this her daughter’s dream?
 
“Whose dream is this?” she questioned the twins. They both shrugged.
 
“We dream together mostly,” Dani told her.
 
“How long have you done that?” Buffy asked them, kneeling down to their level and they both shrugged again.
 
“Always?” she prodded and they gave her another shrug.
 
“Does Papa know?”  she continued, and was met with another unified shrug.
 
Buffy rolled her eyes and stood back up. Since they were in Jurassic Park, she had to assume this was Billy’s dream … or that he was controlling it, that wouldn’t be high on Dani’s list of things to dream about. Dani’s would probably include Ninja’s or soccer balls or skateboards. Buffy tried to remember what she used to dream about when she was six … probably Mr. Gordo and the Cookie Monster and Easy Bake Ovens and tea parties with her dolls. She wondered what Spike had dreamed about when he was six …
 
“Do you want to go for a ride?” Billy asked, pulling her from her musings.
 
Buffy looked around for a car, then realized, “On Bob?”

 

“Uh-huh! He likes to give rides and you can see far, far away from up there on his head!” Dani assured her enthusiastically.
 
Buffy sighed … until they got to the dungeon dream, she might as well go along. “Sure … ok, but no picking me up by my clothes … your Papa won’t like to have to sew more ripped jeans…” especially if he isn’t getting anything out of the ripping… she added silently.
 
**~**
 
Buffy followed the twins through dream after dream … soccer practice, school, a strange dinner at home with nothing but raw cauliflower to eat and Spike telling them they could ‘eat it or starve’. They ran across the deer they saw on their hike in the mountains…but in the dream the deer didn’t scamper off. The three gently creatures walked all around them, sniffing and grubbing small stems of grass from under the snow – then Dani and Billy fed them raw cauliflower and they deer gobbled it up eagerly. Suddenly they were transported to Willow and Tara’s house – the whole family was there sitting out on the dock. It was dark out, but the sky was alight in color as fireworks exploded in rapid succession above them. The children ‘ooo’d and ‘awwww’d as the bright colors burst over the lake and Buffy snuggled on Spike’s lap in one of the Adirondack chairs.
 


Spike nibbled on her earlobe as they watched the display and Buffy felt fireworks of her own starting to build. She tried to focus on something else, looking around at the gathered group. Annie, Dani, and Billy didn’t look much different than they do now, this couldn’t have been very long ago. Giles and Willow and Tara were there, all three seemed to be beaming, even in the dim light … it was probably just this past Fourth of July; Tara had probably just confirmed her pregnancy.
 
Buffy kissed Spike and got up off his lap, much to his displeasure, and went to sit on the dock with the kids, who were dangling their feet in the water of the lake. “What’s this?” she asked Billy.
 
“Fourth of July…” he confirmed her assumption.
 
“The bestest ever!” Dani elaborated, her eyes wide with awe as she watched the fireworks explode in a rainbow of colors above them.
 
“Why is it the best ever?” Buffy asked her.
 
“’Cos we got to swim and Aunt Tara made red, white, and blue cupcakes that made our teeth turn purple and we roasted marshmallows and had hotdogs and the fireworks are right here! And we get to sleep in a tent in the back yard tonight! And there are fireflies and whippoorwills!” Dani enthused. “It was the most fun ever!”

 

Buffy smiled at her excitement … such simple things brought so much joy to a child. Purple teeth and swimming and marshmallows and fireworks and camping out… it would be one of those memories they would carry with them forever. Buffy stood back up and started to head back to join Spike when suddenly everything went completely black and quiet.
 
Buffy tried to get her bearings, reaching her hands out and hoping her eyes would adjust to the dark, but she couldn’t feel anything near her. She listened closely and heard what sounded like water dripping slowly … drip … drip … drip – kind of like Chinese water torture.
 
“Billy? Dani?” she whispered, wishing her eyes would adjust; perhaps Spike should’ve come after all.
 
“Mama?” she heard Billy call to her, his voice low and fearful.
 
“I’m here baby. Where are you?” Buffy asked, trying to pinpoint his location in the dark.
 
“Here…”
 
“Here where, honey?” Buffy questioned taking a step towards his voice.
 
“By the wall.”
 
“Which wall?”
 
“I don’t know,” Billy replied.
 
“Where are we?” Buffy asked, trying to get him to keep talking so she could follow his voice in the dark.
 
“The dungeon …”
 
Buffy took a deep breath and blew it out slowly. This is what she’d come for. “Are there any lights?”
 
“I don’t like the lights … it’s scarier with lights,” Billy replied as she edged closer to him.
 
“It’s ok, baby – Mama’s here, turn on the lights,” Buffy coaxed him.
 
Suddenly, the area was bathed in the glow of three burning torches that were in sconces on one wall which reminded Buffy of the torches Indiana Jones used to keep the snakes at bay … at least there weren’t any snakes here.

 

Buffy quickly scanned the room and found Billy huddled against the wall furthest away from the light, trying to make himself as small as possible. She rushed over to him and picked him up and immediately started ‘shushing’ him and assuring him that everything would be ok.
 
She looked around the room as she held her frightened son; there were two sets of heavy metal doors, one on the wall with the torches and the other set on the opposite wall. The doors looked like they were from the Middle Ages and were quite large and solid – there were no other windows or doors apparent in the room. The walls appeared to be solid rock … carved, wet rock to be exact; as if the room had been chiseled out of the center of a solid piece of stone. The water she’d heard dripping was running down the walls and forming small puddles on the floor, which was more of the same rock along with some dirt and gravel.

 

“Where’s Dani?” Buffy asked Billy and he pointed to the set of doors on the wall with the torches.
 
Buffy took a deep breath … she had to get those doors open and end this nightmare for him. “Oh, I thought you said this was gonna be hard … Even Papa could’ve opened those …” Buffy told him, trying to sound confident.
 
“You stay here and I’ll get them open, ok?” Buffy instructed as she sat him down against the wall furthest away from the doors. Billy tried to cling to her for a moment but finally released her when she reminded him that she needed her hands in order to open the doors…
 
Buffy stepped up to the heavy doors and examined the strange locking mechanism they had. She tried to move the handle, but it wouldn’t budge. There were several small, round steel plates hanging on the door and she moved one, which revealed a small peephole. She tentatively moved her eye closer to the hole to see what was on the other side of the door. of the door.
 
There was only a dim light illuminating the room behind the door and she had to press her eye right up to the peephole to see anything. After a few moments, she could make out a long hallway which also seemed to have stone walls, ceilings and floors and along each side of the hallway were individual cells, like a medieval prison or … duh! A dungeon!
 
The dungeon was lit with a few burning torches, just like the room they were in, so it was hard to tell for certain, but there seemed to be people in the cells … prisoners. Buffy blew out a long breath and backed up, letting the little steel cover fall back into place over the peephole.
 
“Is Dani one of the prisoners?” she asked Billy, walking back over to where he waited, crouched down against the furthest wall.
 
Billy nodded. “I can’t get her out…”
 
“It’s ok, baby … We’ll get her out,” Buffy assured him, moving back over to the doors that stood between her and victory over Billy’s fears.
 
Buffy began pounding on the doors, kicking, pushing, pulling, slamming her body against them … but she didn’t even put a dent in them. Her body was battered and bruised, her knuckles bloodied and the doors were just as stout and unmoving as ever. Buffy sank down on the floor next to her son to try and think … how was she gonna get those doors open?
 
“Billy, listen to me,” Buffy started solemnly as she pulled him into her lap on the floor. “You need to open the doors … only you can do it.”
 
Billy shook his head. “I can’t … I tried.”
 
“You can …”
 
“They’re too heavy,” he argued.
 
“No … not with your muscles, with your mind. You have to unlock them …”
 
Billy shook his head and buried his face against her shoulder. “What are you scared of? What’s behind the doors?” Buffy questioned, pushing him back so she could look into his tearful and frightened eyes.
 
“Dani…” Billy whispered, his voice barely louder than the water dripping down the walls.
 
“You’re scared of Dani?” Buffy questioned with confusion. “Dani would never hurt you … she loves you. I thought you wanted to get her out ...”
 
Billy shook his head again. “I do ... but, I'm scared. Please don’t make me …”
 
“Awwww, sweet boy, it’ll be ok. I’m here and I won’t let anything happen to you. I promise,” Buffy assured him. “Do you trust me?”
 
Billy nodded slowly.
 
“Ok … unlock the doors and we’ll get Dani, ok? You’ll see, it’ll be alright …”
 
Suddenly, the iron rods which held the doors firmly closed, which Buffy couldn’t budge, dropped out of their moorings and the doors swung open slowly with a loud creeeaaak. Buffy half expected a ghost to appear next, rattling its chains … but nothing came through the doors and, when they stopped moving, the only sound that could be heard was the drip…drip…drip of the water as it ran down the damp walls.
 
“Good boy,” Buffy encouraged Billy as she stood up, picking him up with her and holding him on her hip with one arm under his bottom. She grabbed one of the torches off the wall and started through the doors slowly, holding the torch up in front of her to light the way.
 
As Buffy stepped into the hallway between the cells with the torch, the prisoners all crouched and cowered in a corner of their cells, turning their backs to her and covering their heads with their arms. There was one prisoner per cell – dirt floors, stone walls and iron bars surrounding them. There were no cots or blankets in the cells, not even toilets or urinals.
 
“Who are they?” Buffy whispered to her son, but Billy just shook his head against her shoulder, he didn’t know.
 
“Where’s Dani?” Buffy asked after she’d walked about twenty feet down the hallway. She couldn’t tell how long the hallway was, there were no torches or any lights beyond the first ten feet or so – it could go on forever as far as she could tell.
 
Billy picked his head up from where he’d buried it against her neck and pointed at a cell about ten feet away on the left. Buffy took a deep breath and walked slowly but deliberately towards the cell he’d pointed to. When she got there, she could just barely see some matted, blonde hair hanging down the girl’s back as she cowered like the other prisoners in one corner. The only clue that it was even a girl was the tattered and filthy dress that she had on, the hem dragging in the dirt floor as she crouched in the corner. Buffy thought that the girl in the cell looked bigger, quite a bit older than Dani … but she was crouched down and huddled in the darkest corner, so it was kinda hard to tell for sure.
 
“Dani?” Buffy called as she pulled on the iron bars of the gate, which seemed to be just as solid as the heavy doors she’d fought earlier.
 
“Dani, honey … are you ok?” Buffy called again, but got no response from the blonde. “It’s Mama and Billy … Dani, come over here, honey.”
 
Buffy sighed when the girl didn’t move or acknowledge them. She laid the torch down on the ground and pulled harder on the iron bars of the cell, but they didn’t give an inch. “Damn it…” she muttered as she put Billy down on his feet.
 
“Ok, sweetie … you have to open this one too. Mama can’t do it alone, you have to unlock it,” she told her son and he shook his head adamantly.
 
“It’ll be ok … I promise. You unlock it and I’ll get Dani out, ok?” she cajoled him, brushing some of his curls back from his face.
 
“Just one more door … then everything will be fine. C’mon, you’re my big, brave man … you can do it,” Buffy continued.
 
“Are you sure?” he asked tentatively, looking between Dani, still cowering in the corner, and Buffy.
 
“One hundred percent, double-dip sure,” Buffy reassured him, giving him her best reassuring mom smile.

 

Buffy heard the lock turn on the cell that held Dani and she stood up and moved over to it. Leaving Billy in the hallway, she opened the door and stepped into the cell with her daughter.
 
“Dani … honey, it’s ok. It’s Mama … we’re gonna take you home now. Dani?” Buffy spoke slowly and softly as she made her way towards the frightened child in the corner.
 
Suddenly, the blonde girl whirled on Buffy, moving faster than any demon or human Buffy had ever seen before. In a flash of fists and fangs, the child was atop Buffy, pummeling her fists down on Buffy's face and neck, growling like a wild beast, and trying to sink her fangs into Buffy’s flesh.
 
After the initial shock, Buffy’s instincts kicked in and she fought back against her attacker, but her Slayer strength was no match for the slender wisp of a girl that was attacking her. Buffy tried to grab her hands, but the child vampire simply punched right through her attempts, knocking Buffy’s own hands into her face and bloodying her mouth, nose, and knuckles. Buffy tried to turn over or pull out from under the girl, but she was stuck like a bug on a pin – unable to move, unable to get away.
 
“Billy! Lock the door! Lock the door and run!” Buffy screamed at him as she tried her best to just block and deflect the blows that rained down on her. Buffy squirmed and pushed against the vampire with all her strength as she tried to keep her neck away from the razor sharp fangs that glimmered deadly in the flickering light of the torch, which she’d left on the floor out in the hallway.

When Billy just stood there, paralyzed in fear, Buffy screamed again. “NOW! BILLY RUN!”
 
The last thing Buffy saw as the child vampire sunk its fangs into her neck was Billy running back towards the first room they’d been in. “Wake … up … now …” Buffy muttered just as the world went black.
 
Buffy woke with a start, nearly falling off the couch in the great room; it took her a second to get her bearings. “GET BILLY!” she screamed at Spike, who had been sitting in the chair next to her. “Wake him up NOW!”
 
Spike rushed up the stairs, taking them three at a time, to the twins’ room and shook Billy awake. When Buffy got there, Billy was inconsolable, clinging to Spike and sobbing, frightened out of his mind. Buffy was happy to find that neither of them were actually hurt … at least not physically. Unlike the dreams she’d experienced in limbo, these didn’t actually ‘Freddy Krueger’ her – they were just dreams.
 
Buffy dropped down onto the floor next to Billy’s bed as tears of relief that he was ok fell from her eyes.
 
“What the bloody hell happened!?” Spike questioned Buffy as he tried to soothe his son.


 
Buffy looked up at Dani, who was watching her brother with worry creasing her young features, then Buffy looked back at Spike, meeting his eyes as he held their son and tried to calm him.

 
“Bess …”




 **~**


{{Click here to hear "Dreamweaver” by Gary Wright on YouTube  }}


 I've just closed my eyes again
climbed up on the Dreamweaver train
in' to take away my worries of today
and leave tomorrow behind

Chorus:

Ooo Dreamweaver, I believe you can
get me through the night
Ooo Dreamweaver, I believe we can
reach the morning light

Fly me high through the stary skies
and maybe to an astral plane
Cross the highways of fantasy
Help me forget todays pain

repeat Chorus

tho the dawn may be coming soon
there still may be some time
fly me away to the bright side of the moon
and meet me on the other side

Ooo Dreamweaver, I believe you can
get me through the night
Ooo Dreamweaver, I believe we can
reach the morning light
Dreamweaver...
Dreamweaver....



End Notes:
TBC ... What does Billy dreaming about Bess mean? More to come ... My muse loves to hear from you, don't be shy!!
I'd Do Anything by Passion4Spike
Author's Notes:
Spike tries to succeed in ending Billy’s nightmares where Buffy failed.
**
Music Referenced:
I’d Do Anything, from the musical, "Oliver" (You may also recognize from a Dawn dishwashing detergent advert)
http://youtu.be/FqFgLouZZK4
**
Julia "Buttercup" Utonium is the tomboy of the Powerpuff Girls. Her personality is "spice". She is the toughest fighter of the Powerpuff Girls, and can be the surliest Powerpuff Girl at times, but is practically fearless, loyal, and quick-witted. She can be selfish at times, often reckless, and she is frequently sarcastic.
**
ScreenCaps courtesy of ScreenCap Paradise:
http://www.screencap-paradise.com/?cat=3
**
Special thanks to 'epd4' for betaing this chapter!!
(same night), Thursday, April 22nd, 2010, 11:00pm:
 
“WHAT!? How?” Spike exclaimed, Billy still clinging to him as he sat on his son’s bed. “Bess? Bess is … Bess is … gone. You heard the vicar’s wife – read the diary … dust.”

 

Buffy shook her head. “I don’t know how … but that wasn’t Dani in the dungeon, it was Bess.”
 
Buffy turned to their daughter, who was still watching Billy with concern. “Dani, honey … do you remember the dreams?”
 
Dani turned her eyes to her mother, who was now kneeling beside her bed, and nodded her head.
 
“Tell me …” Buffy requested softly.
 
“We played with Bob … and had yucky cauliflower and fed it to the deer,” Dani recalled for Buffy. “And watched the fireworks …” Dani continued, her voice trailing off.
 
“And then what?” Buffy questioned.
 
Dani scrunched her face up in thought, moving her pursed lips from side to side as she tried to recall what other dreams there were, before finally giving up with a shrug. “That’s all… we watched the fireworks and caught fireflies in a jar and took them in the tent …”

 

“Have you ever been in the dungeon with Billy?” Buffy asked.
 
Dani shook her head slowly, looking over at her brother who had stopped crying but was still on the verge of hyperventilating, taking deep, shuddering breaths.
 
“How do you know about the dungeon?” Buffy pressed.
 
Dani shrugged. “Billy told me…”
 
“But you were never there with him?”
 
Dani shook her head ‘no’.
 
Buffy looked back at Spike who was looking at her with a furrowed brow. “Would you mind telling me what the bloody hell is going on?”
 
Buffy sighed and pulled herself up to sitting next to Spike and Billy on their son’s bed. “Our ‘little bits’ have a little bit of secret, apparently,” Buffy began, running a hand down Billy’s back. “They share dreams…”
 
Spike’s brows shot up as he looked from Dani to Billy and then back to Buffy.
 
“So, you didn’t know, either,” she surmised.

 

“Like a bond? Since when?” Spike questioned.
 
“Forever, apparently,” Buffy repeated what Dani had told her within the dream.
 
“But why is he dreamin’ ‘bout Bess? He doesn’t even know Bess and Bess is … gone,” Spike argued.
 
“She didn’t feel too gone to me …” Buffy admitted, her hand going to her neck where she could still feel the child vamp’s fangs slicing into her flesh. They sat in silence a few moments, the only sound was their son’s ragged breathing and sniffles as he tried to calm down. “Let’s … let’s go downstairs so Dani can get back to sleep…” Buffy suggested, standing up and tucking her daughter back under the covers.
 
“Is Billy okay?” Dani asked, looking from Buffy to Spike and then at Billy.
 
“Yeah, baby – he’s gonna be ok. It was just the dungeon dream… we’re gonna fix it for him soon,” Buffy assured her, although she wasn’t so sure how they were going to fix it.
 
Downstairs, Buffy sat at the research table while Spike paced around the great room, holding their son in his arms to try and get him to go back to sleep.
 
“So, what, you think Bess is still … walkin’ around, being held in a dungeon somewhere?” Spike asked as he came near her.
 
“Do you have a better explanation for these dreams he’s having?” Buffy questioned, motioning towards Billy who was starting to calm down in Spike’s arms. “He shares dreams with Dani … there’s a bond of some sort there – Bess was made from Dani … Bess is … Bess is like his twin … or triplet or whatever, too.”
 
“With that logic, then wouldn’t it be more likely for our Lemon Drop to have the dreams?” Spike questioned.
 
Buffy shrugged. “I don’t know … it’s just a theory. Billy’s … he’s just got such a wide open heart. If some part of him felt Bess’ pain … he’d be the one to try and help her. Dani’s … she’s not quite so trusting, she’s tougher, Billy’s … like you.”
 
Spike cocked a brow in disagreement with her contention that he wasn’t ‘tough.’ Buffy sighed and rolled her eyes. “Billy’s like William – he gives his heart freely, wholly; Dani’s like Spike, she’s rough and tumble and not quite so trusting…”
 
“So, what do we do now?” Spike wondered as Billy closed his eyes, his arms around Spike’s neck and his head resting against his father’s strong shoulder.
 
Buffy rubbed tiredly at her eyes, propping her elbows on the research table, and Spike came over to her and rubbed her shoulders with one hand as he held Billy against him with the other. “We have to figure out where she is …” Buffy began.
 
“Could be anywhere … vamps have been known to keep playm… ummm, prisoners – could be the ones that turned ‘er still have her … or could’ve … traded or sold her.”
 
Buffy looked over her shoulder at him. “Vamps keep other vamps prisoner?”
 
Spike shrugged. “So I’ve heard …”
 
Billy had finally calmed down and had actually fallen back asleep in Spike’s arms, completely exhausted from the lack of actual rest over the last few nights and waking up scared out of his mind all the time. Spike took him over to the couch and lay him down gently, careful not to wake him, and covered him with a throw, before joining Buffy at the research table again.
 
Buffy dropped her chin to her chest so Spike could rub the tight muscles of her neck as he stood behind her chair. Buffy closed her eyes as Spike’s strong fingers worked their way up the sides of her spine from her shoulders to her scalp, kneading the tension from them. She tried to remember everything she could from the dungeon dream and relate it to Spike … what it looked like, what it felt like, what it smelled like, what the doors were like and the cells, on the off chance that Spike had actually encountered that particular place at some point in his long life.

 

Spike massaged her neck and shoulders as she spoke and wracked his brain for somewhere he knew that would fit that description, but he couldn’t recall anywhere exactly like that.  When Buffy had told him everything she could remember, she stopped talking and the pair grew silent for a long while, each lost in their own thoughts. Dani’s face from the Fourth of July dream flashed in the dark behind Buffy’s lids, smiling and joyful, excited over the prospect of fireflies and sleeping under the summer stars – then her daughter’s blue eyes morphed to gold as a furious, deadly vampire, growling and flashing razor sharp fangs lunged at her. Buffy jerked back from the vision at the same moment Billy started screaming.
 
Buffy jumped up from her seat, knocking Spike backwards, as she raced over to their son who had been sleeping on the couch.
 
Buffy grabbed him in her arms and began rocking him, cooing softly, assuring him that it was alright, but Billy fought against her, pulling back and wriggling free of her embrace. “Let go! NOOO! Let go! Let go!” he screamed at her and she released him, not wanting to hurt him.
 
“Billy, honey … it’s ok,” Buffy began as her son scrambled off the couch and got to his feet, tears streaming down his face and his chest heaving with frightened breaths.
 
“NO! You lied! You said it would be alright and you lied!” Billy screamed at her, his whole body shaking in fear and anger. “You’re a big, fat liar!” he accused.
 
“OI!” Spike exclaimed as he reached him, grabbing him by the shoulders and turning him around. “I’ll have none a’ that in this house! Apologize to your mum!”
 
“NO! She’s a liar! She said she would help Dani and she didn’t! She said it would be alright … open the doors, it would be alright and it wasn’t! Now the doors are open and they won’t close! I run and run and I can’t get away and Dani’s gonna catch me! She’s gonna kill me!” Billy spun back around to face Buffy, who was sitting in stunned silence on the couch. “It’s all your fault!” he screamed at her before running up the stairs and away from them.
 
“OI! Get the bloody hell back ‘ere!” Spike commanded, but Billy just kept going.

 

As Spike started after him, Buffy laid a hand on his arm and stopped him. “He’s right …” she admitted, shaking her head slowly. “I’m a big, fat liar … I didn’t fix it, I made it worse. I have to go back … I have to fix it,” she told Spike, as she looked up at him, her face grim with worry and frustration.
 
Spike blew out a long breath, his hands on his hips as he tried to think. “I’ll go …”
 
“No, Spike, I…”
 
“Buffy, luv … he’s hurt now – that soft, trusting heart you were talkin’ about, well it’s got a bit of a nick in it,” Spike told her. “He’ll get over it, but right now, I think I need to go …”
 
Buffy blinked back tears and nodded. She hadn’t meant to lie to Billy, she thought she could fix it … she just hadn’t been prepared for what she found in that cell.
 
**~**
 
Spike brought up his game face and turned in a fast circle, scanning the dark, dank, underground room he found himself in, and quickly found Billy cowered in the corner. He rushed over to his son and picked him up. Billy wrapped his arms around his father’s neck just as a loud banging began on the heavy doors on the other side of the room.
 
“Dani…” Billy whispered to his father, as he clung to his neck.
 
“Ok … listen to me, little man,” Spike began. “I’m gonna put you down…”
 
“NOOOO! Don’t leave me! Please!” Billy screamed, holding tighter to Spike.
 
“I won’t leave ya’ … but I need to talk to … Dani now. You stay here. Stay in the corner and don’t move. I promise I won’t leave ya,” Spike insisted as he pried his son off him.
 
“NOOOOO!” Billy screamed, trying to hold on as the heavy doors swung open with a loud clang – banging back against the solid rock walls.
 
Spike pulled free of his son and dropped him back in the corner where he’d been, swinging around just in time to be tackled and knocked to the floor by a girl who was smaller than Buffy in stature, but not in strength.
 
Spike growled at the girl, but she was undeterred, growling back just as menacingly, as they wrestled on the damp floor of the cavernous dungeon’s antechamber for control. Spike knew from what Buffy had said that he couldn’t allow her to get the upper hand, or he’d surely lose. He’d hoped that Buffy had exaggerated the strength the child vamp had, but he was disappointed to find that, if anything, she’d underestimated it. But Spike had two things that Buffy didn’t have … he had his weapon and he had … “Bess!”
 
At the mention of her name, the child paused, momentarily taken aback. No one had called her ‘Bess’ in years … how many years? She wasn’t sure anymore – it was like something from a different life or a long ago dream. That was all the opening Spike needed, he rolled on top of her, pressing her face into the dirt and gravel on the floor and sank his fangs lightly into the back and side of her neck, growling like a lion chastising an errant cub.
 
When Bess tried to move, Spike bit down harder and growled deeper until she stopped resisting. Spike slowly released the hold he had on her neck, but kept his mouth close as he continued to pin her down with his body, holding her head to one side with his hands to keep her neck exposed.
 
“You may be used to being in charge ‘ere … but it’s ‘bout time you learned to respect your elders, girl,” Spike whispered harshly against her neck. “You followin’?”
 
Bess nodded her head as much as she could with him holding it.

 

“I can’t he-aar you,” Spike sing-songed gruffly, his voice rumbling against her skin.
 
“Yes …” Bess answered through gritted teeth.
 
“Yes sir,” Spike corrected with a deep growl.
 
“Yes sir,” Bess mimicked sarcastically, rolling her eyes, and Spike growled loudly and bit back down into her neck, shaking his head slightly and tearing at her flesh.
 
“Yes, sir … yes, sir!” Bess screamed, holding her arms up above her head and morphing back to her human features in surrender.
 
Spike slowly released his hold on her neck, but kept her pinned down.
 
“Now … If I let you up, you gonna be a good lass and do as I say?” Spike questioned.
 
“Yes sir …”
 
Spike took a deep breath and pushed up off her, pressing a knee into her back to make sure she stayed down until he got to his feet. When he was off her, Bess rolled over onto her back, holding a hand on her neck where he’d bitten her to stanch the bleeding. She’d been bitten before, defeated before … she knew what that meant and what he expected now.
 
Bess got to her feet, standing in front of Spike. She reached down and began lifting her torn and tattered cotton dress up. Spike grabbed one wrist and stopped her, just as she’d gotten the hem up to her waist, revealing her bare body beneath.
 
“What the bloody hell are ya doin’?” he questioned, pulling her hand away from the fabric and letting the dress fall back over her waiflike frame.

 

Bess looked at him like he was crazy. “You … you bested me … I am yours …” she stammered to explain.
 
Spike froze momentarily, unable to move or think as his stomach churned in disgust and his heart threatened to explode from his chest. This was his daughter … fourteen years old, offering herself to him – to a stranger, to the vampire that bested her. How many times had she done that? How many times had she been taught that lesson by her elders? How many times had she been violated because she was a fledge and just a step slower than the others? Despite her strength and skill now, as a newly risen vamp she would’ve likely not had that much power or the experience to defeat older vamps.
 
Tears stung Spike’s eyes as he turned away from her and looked at Billy, who had stayed in the corner as Spike had instructed with his knees pulled up to his chest and his head buried against them. Spike had never been more glad for complete darkness before in his life … what would that do to their son to see what he thought was his sister like this? Spike took several deep breaths to try and compose himself, still facing away from her. He should’ve been there for her … but how? If he hadn’t met Avengelyne, hadn’t met Dru, the outcome for Bess, according to Buffy, would’ve been the same. Destiny…
 
“Does my body not excite you, sir? I’m told that it’s exceptionally pleasing,” Bess cooed from behind him, pulling Spike from his thoughts. “Or would you rather I pleasure you with my mouth?” she questioned, reaching out to touch Spike’s shoulder.
 
Bess had lost her English accent from the years she’d lived in America as a child, but growing up in the 1800’s still shown through at times in her voice and words. She’d learned new words and vocabulary from the guards and new vamps that were brought into the dungeon over the years. News from the outside world of wondrous inventions and contraptions was always a welcome distraction when a new prisoner was introduced to the cellblock.
 
“NO!” Spike screamed, turning back around to face her.
 
“I … I do not please you?” she asked again, a worried look on her face. “Oh … I understand … the boy. You would like him instead?”
 
Spike growled in anger and pain and frustration, her words and actions cutting deep gashes in his heart and boiling his blood with revulsion. Spike picked her up by the shoulders and slammed her against the nearest wall. “NO! Don’t ever say that again!” he screamed at her, shaking her like a ragdoll before finally getting control of himself and dropping her on the floor.
 
Bess looked at him with confusion, unsure what she’d done wrong, not knowing what to do to please this newcomer who had bested her. “If you would tell me what it is you desire, I’m sure I can …”
 
“What I desire, Elizabeth, is for you to shut your gob for a bloody minute!” Spike screamed at her as he paced back and forth, staying between her and Billy, but not looking at either of them.

 

Bess stayed silent, unmoving, waiting for this unpredictable vamp to tell her what he wanted her to do next … he was the strangest vamp she’d ever met, and she’d met a good many over her long life. Spike continued to pace, now that he had her attention … and her mouth shut, just exactly what should he tell her? Spike tried to think of her as a vampire … just a random, soulless vampire that, for whatever reason, he wasn’t staking but trying to help. He didn’t want to think of her as ‘Bess’ … he didn’t want to see his own eyes staring back at him when he looked at her … he didn’t want to see his daughter.
 
Spike took a deep breath and stopped in front of her, closing his eyes and admonishing himself to see a vampire there when he opened them, not his daughter – but it didn’t work. Spike looked down on her and all he could see was a child made of him and Buffy … all he could see was Bess and Dani, carefree, happy girls with the whole world in front of them, and tears stung his eyes.
 
Spike dropped down into a squat in front of her, letting one knee fall to the ground and morphed back to his human features. “Do I look familiar to you?” he asked her, searching her hardened, blue eyes – eyes of a fourteen year old going on one hundred and ten, for some glint of recognition.


 
Bess looked at him carefully, then shook her head fearfully – was she supposed to know him? Would she be punished if she didn’t?
 
“Bess … think back – far, far back. Do you remember your father?” Spike questioned.
 
“Yes … he … he was a steel worker in Philadelphia,” she offered tentatively.
 
Spike sighed and closed his eyes a moment. “No … your real father, not John … William … William Weckerly.”
 
Bess’ brows furrowed in thought. Anne had often spoken of their real father and mother, but Bess didn’t really remember a lot about them – just small snatches of memories, like faded snapshots in her mind, remained. She had a memory of her father taking her to work with him one Saturday … he normally didn’t work on Saturday, but for some reason he had to go in. Anne had gone shopping with their mum and Bess had begged to go with him and he finally agreed, warning her that it would be ‘quite tedious.’ She remembered his desk … it was gigantic to a three-year-old, and she remembered some students stopped in and her father spoke at length with them about something …
 
Bess raised her eyes and met Spike’s, still lost in the old memory of the man behind that huge desk. “He … he was a teacher. He had a big desk and books and …” Bess shook her head unable to remember specifically what he looked like as much as the feelings he inspired in her. She thought he was perhaps the smartest person on earth – those students seemed duly impressed with his knowledge of whatever it was they were talking about. Certainly her father was quite versed in all matters of any importance.
 
“I am your father,” Spike announced slowly, dropping his cockney accent for the voice of his youth. “I was a teacher .... a professor at university. You came with me once, do you remember? You sat in one of the student’s desks and looked at a picture book while I met with some pupils … we stopped on the way home near Charing Cross for a pence scoop of iced cream.”
 
“But … that’s … that can’t be true …” Bess stammered, her brows furrowed in confusion. “He … mother said he … he died, he was a warrior and he died in battle and when our real mother was killed, we were orphaned …”
 
“It’s true, pet … I died, just like you did,” Spike assured her, reaching out a hand and touching her arm. “I am your father, Bess. I was that man behind the desk… and now I’m a demon, like you.”
 
Bess closed her eyes and contemplated his words, for a moment she felt something stir deep within her … she really wasn’t sure what it was – longing? nostalgia? recognition? Like the snapshot of her father at his desk, she couldn’t really get it to come into focus, and then it was gone … like a cool, passing breeze on a hot day. She opened her eyes and looked into his … they did look somewhat familiar.
 
“When?” Bess asked, wondering if whatever that feeling was would come back – she hoped not. She’d survived a lifetime without feelings … since that fateful night near the River Thames. Feelings like that only brought pain and that was something she’d had enough of – she’d learned long ago that it was really best to just not feel at all. It had been easy when she was first turned … the anger and hunger of the demon seemed to consume her; it had gotten harder after she’d gotten here. The long, monotonous days allowed too much time for her mind to wander and for feelings like sadness and melancholy and desolation to creep in, but she’d learned how to control it over the years, how to push those feelings, along with memories of her ‘other life’, far, far down in the darkest recesses of her mind.
 
Spike sighed. “When you were a child … just before you went to live with the Weatherfords. I … I thought you’d be safe there, I didn’t know … I didn’t know this happened to you,” Spike tried to explain. “I didn’t know you were a Slayer… or had been turned.”
 
“What would you have done if you knew?” Bess questioned, searching his eyes … is that where that feeling had come from? His eyes? She forced her gaze down to the floor, away from the penetrating blue of his. Feelings were bad.
 
Spike ran a hand back through his hair and stood up. “Not sure …” Spike hedged. What would he have done if he’d met Bess, the Vampire Slayer? Fought to the death? Killed his third Slayer? Been dusted by this pint-sized keg of dynamite? Would he have recognized her? Would it have made any difference?
 
“If I’d known you were here, I would’ve looked for you sooner.” Spike hedged, side-stepping her question slightly. “Just where is ‘here’?” he asked, looking around at the dreary room as the drip…drip…drip of water running down the walls and forming puddles on the floor rang in his ears.
 
Bess stood up in front of him and shrugged. “I don’t know. I’ve heard others say that it’s hell … but I’m not certain.”
 
“I’ve been to hell … this isn’t it …” Spike informed her, although he thought it was a close second. “Where were you before you were here?”
 
“Around …”
 
“Don’t be shirty with me, Buttercup,” Spike warned, leaning in close to her neck. “I may be your father, but I’m still the vamp that bested you … never forget. Now tell me what you remember.”

 

Bess nodded solemnly and stepped back from him slowly before beginning to pace back and forth in front of Spike as she talked. “I remember Mr. Travers came and brought me to England … and I was the Slayer … I remember fighting demons and wishing I could just go home … I remember my fourteenth birthday … Mr. Travers took me to Piccadilly Circus and let me pick out anything I wanted from the shops… I remember writing letters to mother and father and Anne and William and crying all the time… I missed them so much. Then, I’m not sure what happened … we were patrolling down by the Thames … Victoria Tower Gardens, I think, and … the rest is just a blur. There was a fight, but I can only remember bits and pieces of it … there were too many vamps … I fought, dusted a couple, but ...” Bess shrugged.
 
“Did they …” Spike started, unable to voice what he knew had happened to her, but hoped beyond hope hadn’t.
 
“Did they pass me around a while before they turned me? Do you know how much blood you can drink from a Slayer and still keep her alive but too weak to fight? They did …” Bess confirmed his worst fears, her voice even … completely flat, without emotion. “I begged them to just kill me, but that wouldn’t have been any fun – right? They drank, they used me for their pleasure …they humiliated me, they laughed …they drank some more … on and on it went.”
 
Spike’s jaw clenched and his chest tightened. He knew this … he knew when he’d read that Watcher’s diary what had happened to her. A Slayer as a prisoner … it would’ve been a dream come true for a nest of vamps – their very own fountain of youth and vigor. He wondered why he'd never heard of anyone bragging about having a Slayer as a prisoner in all his travels ... of course, he'd heard plenty of stories from vamps claiming to have killed Slayers ... but they were a dime a dozen, like claiming to have been at the Last Supper or the Crucifixion or Woodstock ... he never put much stock in most of them.
 
“I’m sorry …” Spike offered, not sure what else to do or say.
 
Bess stopped pacing and shrugged as if what happened to her didn’t mean anything. It had been her classroom where she honed her ability to push her feelings away, to lock them in a dark corner of her mind and toss away the key. “Their greed got the better of them and was their downfall. It went on for a couple of weeks, then one night, they took too much … and they decided it would be better to turn me than let me die … they thought I would still be their playmate when I rose.” Bess ‘humphed’ scornfully.
 
“I hunted every last one of those bastards down and made sure they suffered before I dusted them. They begged … they begged me to dust them. Did you know you can actually skin a vampire and he won’t dust? Did you know you can remove a vamp’s entrails while he watches? Eyeballs, gonads, even brains … And if you give him some Slayer blood … even demon Slayer blood, he won’t even pass out – he’ll feel every bit of it – and if it starts to heal, you can just start over.”
 
Spike stared at her, not quite believing his ears. This wasn’t Bess … this wasn’t that little girl he’d given to Wanda, it wasn’t even the fourteen year old, homesick Slayer that Travers wrote of; this was a battle-hardened, tortured and scarred, century-old demon. There was no remorse in her voice for any of it … not for her own suffering or the suffering she meted out to the vamps that had harmed her; if anything she was nonchalant about her own abuse and proud of the tortures she’d inflicted on her abusers. Not that Spike could blame her for that last part … he would’ve liked to have done it himself. That also explained why he never heard anyone bragging about it ... they never had a chance to.
 
Spike finally cleared his throat and pressed forward, trying to keep his voice even. “How did you end up here?”
 
Bess shook her head. “I had just hunted the last of the bastards down. Word was he was holed up near Westminster Abbey thinking that the new fledge would be too frightened of the church to go near there - he was wrong. I was coming back to my lair ... crossing the lawn in Victoria Tower Gardens and … I don’t know what happened. When I woke up, I was here …”
 
“Where is ‘here’?” Spike questioned again.
 
Bess shrugged and shook her head again.
 
“How do you get blood? What happens down ‘ere?” Spike questioned.

 

“A man comes once a week and gives us blood … sheep, pig, cow sometimes,” Bess offered as she stood facing him.
 
“Do you know the man? His name?”
 
“No …”
 
“Is it the same man all the time?” Spike wondered.
 
“Mostly, but there have been … I don’t know – a few different ones over my time here. How long have I been here, do you know?” Bess asked, stopping and looking at Spike.
 
Spike blew out a breath. “Over a hundred years…”
 
Bess nodded and resumed her pacing. It felt more like a thousand years.
 
“What happens ‘ere?” Spike repeated his earlier question.
 
“Papa?” Billy questioned from the corner … his voice barely a whisper, interrupting Bess’ answer and pulling Spike’s attention away from the Slayer-vamp and back to his son whom he’d nearly forgotten was there.
 
“It’s alright, Junior … come meet your … come meet Bess,” Spike coaxed, going over to where Billy was still crouched in the corner.
 
Spike picked his son up and started walking back towards Bess with him. “Some light in here would be brilliant …” Spike suggested and in a moment there were three torches burning in sconces on the wall.
 
“Elizabeth Anne, this young lad is William Rupert,” Spike introduced them before casting a harsh look on Bess. “He’s not to be touched … in any way. Is that clear?”
 
Bess looked into Spike’s eyes and saw a flash of gold – a warning. “Yes, sir…” she replied before looking at William. “Are you a vampire too?”
 
“No …” Billy replied in a small voice, clinging to his father, still not sure about this. She looked like Dani … she felt like Dani … but she wasn’t actually Dani?
 
“Bess isn’t gonna to hurt you or scare you anymore … isn’t that right?” Spike questioned the older Dani doppelganger.
 
“Yes, sir … I mean … no, sir … ummm, what’s the correct answer to that question?” Bess wondered.
 
“The correct answer is, you’re gonna play nice with the boy, Buttercup. If anything else in here frightens him, you’re gonna protect ‘im, yeah? ‘Cos if he wakes up one more time and tells me you tried to hurt ‘im or scare him, I’ll be back and I won’t be as nice as I’ve been t’day. Ya got me?”
 
“Yes, sir…”
 
Spike set Billy down and knelt down in front of him. “It’ll be ok now … I need to talk to her a bit more, then we’ll go, yeah?”
 
Billy nodded then looked up at … Bess? then back down to his father. “Are you sure that’s not Dani?”
 
“Yeah, I’m sure … you wait for me back over there, okay?” Spike requested, tilting his head back towards the corner where Billy had been before.
 
Billy nodded and headed back for the corner and Spike stood up and took Bess by the arm, leading her out of that room, through the open doors and into the cellblock.
 
“Who are all these prisoners?” Spike questioned as they walked in the dark down the long hallway. He could see that they were all vamps, men on one side, women and girls on the other side of the long hallway.
 
Bess shrugged. “Some Slayers … most are just … people, I don’t know.”
 
“But all vamps,” Spike pointed out.
 
“Yes …”
 
“And what happens ‘ere?” Spike asked again.
 
“The men come with their torches and crosses and stakes and chains … they choose two or three and take you to the white room,” Bess began.
 
“And?” Spike prodded when she didn’t continue.
 
“And … the men will sometimes give us something in our blood, I don’t know what, it just tastes funny … or they’ll read spells from books while we copulate …” Bess told him matter-of-factly.
 
Spike stopped walking and turned to face her, his brow furrowed in confusion. “They read spells while …” Spike couldn’t even finish the thought, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath as he tried again to just think of her as a random vampire … it wasn’t working.
 
Bess shrugged. “Yeah … but they’re very clear … no fighting, no biting, and vaginal first – always. Of course, once that’s done, then they don’t care, we can do whatever we want until they take us back. That’s the only good part about this whole place … those few hours in the white room every week. Sometimes we can get extra time in there … play nice with the guards, get them off too,” Bess offered, her voice even, as if she was telling him the rules of cricket or baseball. “But we always have to fuck each other first … it’s the rule.”
 
Spike’s time in the cells under Sunnydale when he had been taken prisoner by the Initiative flashed in his mind – they had wanted to ‘observe’ him and Harmony … bloody sick wankers. Was this the same thing? Had the Initiative gone medieval?

 

“What the bloody hell do they want?” Spike asked her, wishing desperately that he could’ve protected her from this horrific fate. Who were the real demons here, the prisoners or the guards?
 
“Vamps that ask questions and make trouble get taken to the blue room … the only thing that comes out of the blue room are screams. We do what they say, when they say, how they say … we keep our mouths closed and our legs open and …”
 
Spike glowered at her, his jaw clenched in anger and she stopped talking and shrugged. “You want to know or don’t you?”
 
“Where are these rooms?” Spike questioned and Bess pointed down the long hallway.
 
Spike led the way, Bess following behind, down the seemingly endless cellblock until they finally came to the end. On the right was a white door, on the left a blue one. Spike opened the white door first and stepped inside. It reminded him of an operating room at a teaching hospital. The room was round and, indeed, white … sterile white, in sharp contrast to the filthy cellblock just outside the door, and had an observation deck above it, all the way around, and three small padded tables that looked like doctor’s examining tables near the center of the room. The back wall was lined with cabinets, but when he opened them, they were empty. Apparently Bess had never seen what was in the cabinets … so she couldn’t relay that information in her dream.
 
“’ave you ever been in the blue room?” Spike questioned as he continued looking for clues in the white room.
 
“I told you, the only thing that comes out of there are screams … vamps go in, they don’t come out …” Bess reminded him.
 
Spike sighed. There wasn’t anything here to indicate where they were or who was holding her prisoner. On their way back down the hall, Spike tried questioning the other prisoners … none of them knew who was holding them or where they were, but he wasn’t sure if that was because Bess didn’t know, since this was her shared dream with Billy … either way, it got him nowhere. There were vamps from all over the globe here – not just from England, so it was possible they weren’t even in the U.K. where Bess had been captured, they could be anywhere in the entire world.
 
Spike and Bess walked the rest of the way down the hallway, back to where Billy was waiting, in silence. How was he going to get her out of here when he didn’t even know where ‘here’ was? Although Spike thought he had put an end to Billy’s nightmares, he had no idea how to end the one that his daughter was living every day. His heart ached for her – he was her father and he’d let her down. How was he going to fix that?
 
Spike stopped in the center of the room and turned to her. This slip of a girl with the strength of a Slayer magnified by a century-old demon, a girl with an iron will who was so much older than the fourteen years that she looked, so much wiser and more hardened than any girl should ever be. Robbed of her childhood, robbed of her innocence … even if he got her out of here, he could never give that back to her.
 
“Bess … I … I promise that I’ll be back, not just in a dream, but for real, one day. I swear I’ll get you outta ‘ere. I won’t rest until you’re ‘ome with us, where you belong,” Spike assured her sincerely, searching her eyes for a glint of hope or belief in their blue depths.
 
Bess met his eyes with hers. His words sounded so heartfelt, his eyes searching hers seemed to look beyond the surface down into her being and that cool breeze billowed softly through her mind again. What was it? What was that feeling? Bess closed her eyes, breaking the connection between them. Surely he must be putting her in a thrall with his gaze … turning the key that kept things like hope and trust and belief in anyone other than herself locked securely away.
 
“I love you, Bess,” Spike whispered softly, reaching a hand out to touch her dirt-streaked face.
 
Bess opened her eyes but took a step back from him, not allowing him to touch her. “What … what should I call you?” she questioned, ignoring his words.
 
Spike shook his head slightly and dropped his hand. “Whatever you want, pet. Father … Papa … Dad,” Spike suggested, but Bess had a confused and pained look on her face. Her dad was John Weatherford … it didn’t seem right to call this vamp Dad.
 
Spike blew out a breath and ran a hand through his hair. “How about ‘Spike’, then?” he offered and Bess nodded her agreement.
 
Dropping her gaze down to Billy who was still in the corner behind Spike, she assured him, “I’ll make sure he’s ok when he’s here … I won’t scare him or let anything hurt him.”
 
Spike nodded; he knew that was as much as she could give at that point. He wondered if she’d ever be able to give more to anyone.
 
“I’ll never give up on you, Bess – never. I’d do anything for you. Never doubt my love; no father could love his child more. I won’t let you down again – that’s a promise.”

 

 **~**


{{Click here to hear "I’d Do Anything” from the musical “Oliver!” on YouTube  }}
(You may also recognize it from recent Dawn dishwashing detergent adverts ... the one showing them getting the oil off the duckling.)


 So, how's it go then Dodger? It's all 'bowin' and 'hats off'...

And 'Don't let your petticoats go dangling in the mud, my darling.'

Oh, 'And I'll go last.'

No, I'll go last.

If you insist.

I'll do anything
For you dear anything
For you mean everything to me.

I know that
I'll go anywhere
For your smile, anywhere --
For your smile, ev'rywhere --
I'd see.

Would you climb a hill?

Anything!

Wear a daffodil?

Anything!

Leave me all your will?

Anything!

Even fight my Bill?

What? Fisticuffs?

I'd risk everything
For one kiss -- everything
Yes, I'd do anything...

Anything?!

Anything for you!!

'Ere now, Oliver, you just copy Dodger
and I'll help you out with the words, alright? So it's
'I'll do anything'

I'll do anything
For you dear, anything
For you mean everything to me

Ah, that's lovely.

I know that
I'd go anywhere
For your smile, anywhere --
For your smile, everywhere
I'd see

Would you lace my shoe?

Anything!

Paint your face bright blue?

Anything!

Catch a kangaroo?

Anything!

Go to Timbuktu?

And back again!
I'd risk ev'rything
For one kiss -- everything --
Yes, I'd do anything

Anything?!

Anything for you!!

Dance, Nancy.

Oh, alright, Dodge. C'mon boys!
1-2-3...

Would you rob a shop?

Anything!

Would you risk the 'drop'?

Anything!

Tho' your eyes go, 'pop'

Anything!

When you come down 'plop'

Hang ev'rything!
We'd risk life and limb
To keep you in the swim
Yes, we'd do anything...

Anything?!

Anything for you.

End Notes:
TBC ... what now? How will they find Bess and, if they do, can they get her out of her real-life nightmare? Lots more to come ... can you feel the storm of angst brewing in the distance??
No More Mr. Nice Guy by Passion4Spike
Author's Notes:
Spike wakes up and tells Buffy what he found out from Bess in the dream, but Buffy’s found some things herself while he was sleeping and has a theory of her own. Billy visits with Bess and later gets called on the carpet by Spike for calling Buffy a liar. Buffy and Spike share their theory and plan with Giles, Willow, Wes, and Faith.
**
Music Referenced:
No More Mr. Nice Guy, Alice Cooper 
http://youtu.be/S0YrXjeRSoE
**
ScreenCaps courtesy of ScreenCap Paradise:
http://www.screencap-paradise.com/?cat=3
**
Special thanks to 'epd4' for betaing this chapter!!
(later that same night), Friday, April 23rd, 2010, 12:30am:
 
When Spike had gone, Bess went and sat on the floor next to Billy. The pair sat in silence for a long while, neither quite sure what to say to the other. Finally, Billy asked tentatively, “Are you a bad vampire?”
 
Bess pulled her knees to her chest and leaned her arms and head on them, turning her face to the side to look at him. “I didn’t know there was any other kind.”
 
“Papa’s a good vampire…” Billy supplied.
 
“What makes him good?” Bess wondered.
 
“He and Mama fight the bad vampires and the other ‘beasties’ … Mama’s a Slayer … but we aren’t supposed to tell anyone. I guess it’s ok to tell you, though.”
 
Bess looked at the boy beside her and felt that lock that kept everything buried within her turn a bit more. “You … you look like my brother when he was your age. You’re … five, right?”
 
“Six,” Billy corrected her. “You look like my sister … Dani, only older.”
 
“Danny’s a boy’s name,” Bess pointed out.
 
“Her real name is Danielle.”
 
“How many brothers and sisters do you have?” Bess wondered.
 
“Annie and Dani … and Mama’s got another baby in her tummy. Papa says JJ might as well be ours ‘cos he’s always at our house ‘eatin’ our bloody food’ …”
 
“You eat bloody food?” Bess questioned. “I thought you weren’t a vampire.”
 
“Everything’s ‘bloody’ to Papa … it’s not really bloody food, just regular food, ‘cept Dani can’t eat milk.”
 
“Where do you live?” Bess asked.
 
“On Crawford Street … in Sunnydale. That’s in California.”
 
“Do you like it there?” Bess wondered.
 
“Yeah … it’s ok. All my friends are there and we ride the bus to school and ride our bikes to the park and go to the beach in the summer and visit Aunt Willow and Aunt Tara – they live in Washington in a big house on a lake.”
 
Bess felt the lock turn further within her as she remembered walking to school with Anne and William in Philadelphia and all the friends they had there. Anne would help her with her homework, her elder sister had always been so smart. Bess had always been more interested in what was outdoors than staying inside and studying like her sister and brother. If there was a tree to climb or a creek to swim in, fish or frogs to catch, or a hill to roll down, that’s where you’d find her.
 
Bess looked at the boy sitting next to her and the tear-streaked face of her little brother as he ran home from the store popped into her mind. Their mom had sent him for a loaf of bread … it was only a couple of blocks to the little neighborhood grocery, a trip they’d all made a hundred times. Some older boys had stopped him on the way and stolen the money that their mom had given him for the bread. When he tried to fight them, they hit him, knocked him down and blackened one eye. It had been Bess who eventually got him to tell her the names of the boys that did it and it had been Bess who taught those boys a lesson about picking on kids that were younger and smaller than you.
 
“Does your father … do good vampires keep their promises?” Bess asked as she fought against the feelings that were threatening to overwhelm her. Feelings that she’d refused entry to her heart for so long … feelings of sadness and loneliness and desperation.
 
“Papa always keeps his promises. He says you can have everything taken away from you, but if you have your word, then that’s all you need – no one can steal that from you,” Billy assured her, reaching a hand out and laying it on her shoulder.
 
Bess turned her face down against her arms and tears welled in her eyes as the flood of emotions that had been threatening escaped and washed over her. It was the first time she’d cried in a very, very long time. Like tidal waves crashing and surging against a rocky shore, all the feelings that she’d kept bottled up for so long churned violently and battered her heart … feelings of disgust with herself, of being powerless, of being a thing, not a person – of being a whore, of giving herself to anyone, anytime just for a moment of escape from her dreary, lonely life or an extra sip of blood. Feelings of being abandoned by her real parents, then by Wanda and John, and finally by her Watcher, threatened to rip her apart … surely there had always been something wrong with her for everyone she ever loved to have tossed her away so carelessly.
 
Billy slid closer to the girl of his nightmares … the girl who had frightened him so, as he realized, she was just a girl. He wrapped an arm over her shoulders as sobs wracked her body and she accepted his comfort, leaning into him as her emotions threatened to wash her away.
 
The master vampire’s words rang in her ears, “I love you, Bess. I swear I’ll get you outta ‘ere. I won’t rest until you’re ‘ome with us, where you belong,” and she cried harder. Was that really her father? The father that had left them to go into battle? Would he really keep that promise as Billy had assured her? Could she dare let the last emotion escape from the bottomless pit within her? Could she allow hope to come out … did she dare let it see the light of day? Or would it explode into dust, just like she would in the blazing sun? Just as it always had in the past.
  
**~**
  
Sure that he’d learned everything he could from Bess, Spike woke up from the dream with a heavy heart. At fourteen, his daughter had been not only turned from a carefree young teen to Slayer then to a demon, but she’d been violated and tortured and turned into a whore … her innocence stolen along with her life and her family. Before he left, he assured her that he would be back – not just in a dream, but for real, and he would get her out of that place. He knew that he had to keep that promise – there was no way he could break that promise to her … he wished he had some clue how he would be able to keep it, though.
 
“Spike! What happened?” Buffy asked when she saw he was awake, jumping up out of her seat next to the couch and kneeling down next to him.
 
Spike sat up tiredly and rubbed at his eyes. “Got ‘er to agree to not bother Junior in the dreams…”
 
Buffy’s brows shot up. “How?”
 
Spike shrugged. “Pulled rank…”

 

“So, you talked to her? Where is she? Who’s holding her?” Buffy rattled off questions in rapid succession.
 
“Yeah, talked – she don’t know …”
 
“Well, I have a theory on that… while you were ‘pulling rank’ and talking, I was thinking and researching …”
 
“You were researchin’ … with actual books? All on your own? Who are you and what’ve you done with Buffy?” Spike questioned, looking at the research table which was now covered with Watcher’s diaries.

 

“Ha ha … very funny. I can research. It was a research-palooza … and you missed it,” she declared, standing up and heading for the table. “I even had donuts … well, half a donut, left over from breakfast.”
 
A small smile tugged his lips as he stood up and followed behind her – those years in the ‘Wish World’ had changed her, but he loved the lioness she’d become. She wasn’t waiting for someone else to figure things out anymore, not calling Rupert or Red for help. She could and would do it herself, especially if it involved her family, and, despite everything, Bess was still her family. He knew she would help him keep that promise he’d made and that gave him hope that they would succeed in getting Bess out of that nightmare she was living in.
 
“So, what did you and the donut figure out?” Spike asked as his eyes scanned all the books on the table.
 
“Something’s fishy in Denmark …” Buffy informed him.
 
“Rotten …” Spike corrected her.
 
“Huh?”
 
“Hamlet, Act I. Marcellus told Horatio, ‘Something is rotten in the state of Denmark’,” Spike clarified for her.
 
“Yeah, well it’s stinky, rotten fish …” Buffy muttered as she picked up the papers that Willow had given her from Harold Travers’ diary which chronicled Bess’ training and her death.
 
“Did you find somethin’ new?” Spike questioned as he looked at the pages – there was nothing new on them that he could see.

 

“It’s what I didn’t find …” Buffy began. “Look at these other diaries … when the Slayer died, they just … quit. At most you get the name of the vamp that killed them, but often the Watcher doesn’t even know that … ‘Killed by vampire, Southdown Park,’” Buffy quoted, reading from one diary. “‘Killed by vampire going by name of ‘Ramstad’, Central Park’, ‘Killed by unknown demon, Blue Lake Cemetery,’” Buffy continued, going from diary to diary.
 
Buffy turned and looked at Spike as she took the pages from Bess’ Watcher back from him. “Our good Mr. Travers here has four pages about it…” she pointed out. “And think about this … he says in the very first entry on the day they were attacked, ‘That’s the last I remember of the fight … it is the last time I saw my Slayer … alive’.”
 
Buffy held the paper out for Spike. “How would he know on July 19th that he wouldn’t see her alive again? He didn’t write that on July 19th … he wrote that later – months later.”
 
“Well …maybe he just needed to get it out – write it down, maybe he went back and wrote it later – after…” Spike suggested.
 
Buffy shook her head. “Fishy …”
 
“So you think the Council wankers ‘ave her?” Spike questioned, looking up from the paper she was holding to her eyes, which were blazing with determination.
 
“That wouldn’t explain the rotten, fishy smell coming from that Watcher’s diary …” she pointed out.
 
**~**
 
Spike cried as he told Buffy about what happened with Bess and the white room and the blue room and she cried with him. She thought she’d been through hell when she lost everything she’d ever loved … but what she’d been through didn’t come close to touching what their once innocent, sweet girl … who thought Daniel Retchford was a ‘Bulgarian’, had endured. And it wasn’t just for five years, but over a century. Buffy knew how her heart had shriveled and quickly died when she’d lost hope … what could Bess have left after so long? How had she even survived this long under those conditions?

 

“She’s not that girl, Buffy,” Spike informed her sadly. “She looks like that girl … but that’s just on the outside. Inside she’s a battle-hardened vamp …” he filled in, shaking his head in sorrow.
 
“Spike … what happened is not your fault,” Buffy assured him, taking his face in her hands as they sat on the couch, making him look into her eyes. “We’ll fix it. We’ll find her and get her out … we’ll have Willow do Jenny’s spell and restore her soul and … and we’ll help her. We’ll help her rise from the ashes, just like you helped me. We’ll give her a life and happy memories to replace the memories of those dark years.”
 
“Those years can’t just be erased, luv … they’ll always be part o’ her. She’ll never be that girl again,” Spike argued sadly.
 
“I know … just like I’m not the same woman I was before the wish, but I’m stronger for it; just like you aren’t only William; she won’t be the same girl, but she can still have a life – a good life, Spike … we can still give her that,” Buffy tried to assure him, wrapping her arms around his neck and resting her forehead against his.
 
“I don’t know if that’s true or not. What if she’s … too damaged?” Spike questioned. “What if she can’t move on? What if she’s not strong enough?”
 
Buffy sat back and sighed as Spike searched her eyes for some answer to that possibility. If they found her and brought her home, would she ever be able to fit in, even with their ‘abby-normal’ family?

 

“She can do it,” Buffy said simply.
 
“How do you know?”
 
“She’s made from us, Spike … you and me.”
 
**~**
 
Buffy finally fell to sleep in Spike’s arms on the couch, but try as he might, he couldn’t rest. The haunted eyes and cold words of his daughter haunted his thoughts, and worry about how they would find her and get her out of that place allowed him no peace. At about the time for the bits to be getting up and getting ready for school, Spike carried Buffy up to their room and left her sleeping there and he took care of getting the children up and off to the bus.
 
He stood in the door of the twins’ room and watched Dani sleeping in the dim glow of the nightlight and he couldn’t help but feel the tide of guilt rising even higher over Bess’ fate. They had to find a way to fix it and they needed to do it soon …

 

“Papa?” Billy questioned groggily, sitting up and rubbing his eyes.
 
“Hey, little man – everything ok in dreamland? Bess playin’ nice?” Spike asked quietly, trying not to wake Dani.
 
“Uh-huh … she’s not so bad once she stops growlin’ and chasin’ ya. Is she gonna come to live with us?”
 
“Would that be ok if she did?” Spike asked, sitting on the bed with him.
 
“She doesn’t like it there … I think she’d like it here better,” Billy offered.
 
“Yeah, you’re right about that, I’d wager,” Spike agreed.
 
“William,” Spike began, his voice serious, and Billy looked at him with trepidation … no one ever called him ‘William’ unless he was in trouble. “You need to apologize to your mum for what you said last night. It wasn’t nice and it wasn’t true.”
 
Billy pursed his lips together and frowned, unsure how his father figured that. “Mama said she’d fix it and she didn’t,” Billy pointed out solemnly.
 
“Well, that may be true, but that doesn’t make her a liar … that just makes ‘er human,” Spike explained, pulling Billy to him and setting him down on his lap. Billy leaned back against Spike’s chest and Spike wrapped his arms around his tender-hearted son.

 
“Do you remember when you promised the Niblett that you’d feed Miss Kitty while she was away at camp last summer?” Spike questioned and Billy nodded slowly. “But you didn’t do it, did you? Your mum had to do it.”
 
“I forgot …” Billy offered in his own defense.
 
“You made a mistake – you didn’t intentionally lie to your sister, but you still didn’t do what you said you’d do. Does that make you a ‘big fat liar’?” Spike wondered, leaning forward to look at him, his brows raised in question.
 
Billy scrunched up his face, dropping his eyes down to his hands in his lap, but didn’t give Spike an answer.
 
“I’m gonna let you in on a little secret,” Spike continued when Billy remained silent. “Not many bits know this, so don’t go tattlin’ it around to your little friends in the school yard, yeah?”

Billy nodded seriously, looking back up at his father and listening with rapt attention.
 
“Parents aren’t perfect. They make mistakes – they don’t mean to, but they do. Your mum didn’t intentionally lie to you, she just made a mistake. She thought she could fix it, but she couldn’t,” Spike revealed.

 

“But you did …” Billy pointed out tentatively.
 
“Because your mum told me the mistake she’d made so I wouldn’t make it too … she helped me fix it. You hurt ‘er feelings last night ‘cos she tried really hard to help you and Bess. She already felt bad and you made her feel worse. Do you think that’s fair?” Spike questioned.
 
“No,” Billy replied in a whisper.
 
“No … I don’t either. I think you owe her an apology this mornin’, don’t you?”
 
“Yeah,” Billy agreed sadly.
 
**~**
 
“Mama?” Billy ventured tentatively after Spike had gotten all the kids dressed and fed and ready for school.
 
“Hmmmm?” Buffy moaned sleepily before opening her eyes. “Billy … what’s wrong, honey? The dream?” she questioned, coming more awake and sitting up in bed, still in the clothes she’d had on the previous day.
 
“No … it’s ok. I … I’m sorry for what I said. You aren’t a liar, you just made a mistake. I’m ... I'm really sorry I said that. I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings,” Billy apologized sincerely, as he shuffled his feet nervously and looked down at the floor. He’d been rehearsing it since Spike had talked with him earlier that morning, he hoped his mama would forgive him for hurting her feelings.
 
Buffy swung her feet off the bed and pulled him into a hug, burying her face in his soft, blond curls. “It’s ok, sweetie. I’m sorry that I made it worse and couldn’t fix it.”
 
Buffy dropped a kiss on the top of his head and released him from the hug.
 
“Are you gonna help Papa bring Bess to live with us?” Billy asked, his blue eyes solemn as they met hers.
 
“I am … we’re gonna get her out of there – you can count on that,” Buffy promised.

 

Billy nodded. “She can be a good vampire, like Papa – I think she’ll like that better than being a bad vampire.”
 
“Do you? Why do you think that?” Buffy questioned.
 
“She told me.”
 
**~**
 
(same day, later that morning), Friday, 10:00am:
 
Buffy, Spike, Wes, and Faith sat around the research table, Willow and Giles joined the meeting from Willow and Tara’s house via the speaker phone which sat in the center of the table. Buffy and Spike had just finished laying out the story about Bess and Buffy’s theory that she, along with other vamps, were being held captive by the Council. Everyone sat in silence as they contemplated this possibility.
 
When no one said anything for a few minutes, Buffy asked, “Wills, can you … you know, hack into their computer, see if there’s information about an Initiative-turned-Spanish-Inquisition-type operation there?”

 

“Well … ummmm, I could if they actually had anything on computers …” Willow replied over the phone. “The only things they have on computers are these books and diaries that I’ve been helping them scan. I think they’re still using steno pads and typewriters in the office … I don’t think they even had an internet connection before this project. I can’t hack 1920’s technology…”
 
“Buffy, are you quite certain that it’s the Council that has her … are you even certain that it wasn’t all just a product of a six year-old’s overactive subconscious imagination?” Giles questioned.
 
Buffy and Spike both shook their heads. “Billy shares dreams with Dani … Bess is made of Dani … Billy was sharing a dream with her,” Buffy asserted.
 
“She knew things that Junior would ‘ave no way of knowin’,” Spike added.
 
“Don’t you think that Watcher’s diary is fishy?” Buffy questioned.
 
Giles shrugged and picked the papers up that Willow had printed out for him. “Indeed … it is … unusual, I suppose. But certainly not every person handles loss in the same manner. He might’ve gone back and written the entries after the fact, wanting to document what had happened …” Giles suggested.
 
“Ok, look,” Buffy started, her frustration growing. “We don’t have time to argue about this – Bess is being held captive. I think we should start our search with the Council. Now, you can either help us or not, but either way, Spike and I will find her and bring her home. If I have to take down the Council to do it, then I will.”

 

“Don’t you think that’s a bit drastic?” Wes questioned. “First of all, what would they have to gain by keeping vampires prisoner? There’s no secret to how they live, what they eat or how to eliminate them … it didn’t sound like they were using them for training Slayers – what could they possibly gain from it?”
 
“The sick bastards could get their bloody rocks off watchin’ a fourteen year old get bounced around their ‘white room’ – they’re Watcher’s aren’t they? They like to watch! Probably the only soddin’ action they ever get…” Spike spat angrily.
 
Buffy laid a hand on Spike’s arm as he glowered at Wes and her husband finally looked at her and tried to calm down. Buffy turned back to the group. “I don’t know why or what they have to gain … but it’s the only place we have to look, so that’s where we’re going to start. I need to know what kind of security they have there … if the records are on paper that will lead us to the location of the prison, I need to know where to look for them … stuff like that.”
 
“They have vampire detectors on all the doors and windows … a vamp can’t go in without an alarm sounding,” Faith provided, garnering a glare from Wes.

 

“But Slayers can,” Buffy guessed and Faith nodded.
 
“Their headquarter building is quite old … fourteenth century, I believe …” Giles offered over the phone. “There could be a basement … perhaps even tunnels and a dungeon like you described beneath it. I’ve never had the privilege of exploring the whole of the campus.”
 
“It’s quite preposterous,” Wes argued. “I assure you that the Council does not hold prisoners …”
 
“What about those vamps they use in the ‘Rite of Passage’ circumcision for Slayers? Where do they get them?” Buffy challenged.
 
“Cruciamentum,” Giles corrected as all the males in the meeting shifted uncomfortably in their seats. “I believe they’ve … rethought that particular tradition.”
 
“Fine … but they must’ve kept them somewhere, right? So they must have some place to keep prisoners …” Buffy clarified her point.
 
Wes sighed. “Perhaps…” he acquiesced. “But I assure you, what you have described is not part of the curriculum for the Council.”
 
“Fine – you just keep those happy thoughts, Cleopatra … I stopped living near that particular river a long time ago …” Buffy retorted.
 
Wes looked from Buffy to Faith, shaking his head in confusion.
 
“Cleopatra, the Queen of ‘Denial’ …” Faith supplied with a smirk.
 
Wes sighed and rolled his eyes. “Fine … do what you feel you must. But I’m quite certain that you will not find anything improper or untoward.”
 
“Well, you know, part of me hopes you’re right, Wes. ‘Cos if we find what I think we will, there’ll be no more Mr. Nice Guy,” Buffy warned.
 
“Buffy, what do you intend to do?” Giles asked over the phone.
 
“Go see my friend Quentin … take a look around, see what we can find,” she told him with a shrug. “If we find Bess there … then they’re going down, Giles.”
 
“How do you intend to get in to see him? He was quite … put off by your behavior at your last meeting as I recall,” Giles reminded her.
 
“We have something he wants … if we dangle the Key in front of him, I bet he’ll snap it up like a bigmouth bass.”



 **~**

{{Click here to hear "No More Mr. Nice Guy” by Alice Cooper on YouTube  }}

I used to be such a sweet, sweet thing
Till they got a hold of me
I opened doors for little old ladies
I helped the blind to see
I got no friends 'cause they read the papers
They can't be seen with me
And I'm gettin' real shot down
And I'm feelin' mean

No more Mister Nice Guy
No more Mister Clean
No more Mister Nice Guy
They say he's sick, he's obscene

I got no friends 'cause they read the papers
They can't be seen with me
And I'm feelin' real shot down
And I'm gettin' mean

No more Mister Nice Guy
No more Mister Clean
No more Mister Nice Guy
They say he's sick, he's obscene

My dog bit me on the leg today
My cat clawed my eye
Mom's been thrown out of the social circles
And dad has to hide
I went to church incognito
When everybody rose the Reverend Smithy
He recognized me and punched me in the nose

He said, no more Mister Nice Guy
No more Mister Clean
No more Mister Nice Guy
He said you're sick, you're obscene
End Notes:
TBC ... What will Buffy and Spike find in London? Are they on the right track or on a wild goose chase? Got some bumps in the road before they even get to London ... buckle up!
My Little Girl by Passion4Spike
Author's Notes:
Spike and Buffy make plans to go to England to look for Bess – Annie objects.
**
Music Referenced:
My Little Girl, Tim McGraw
http://youtu.be/ySQIOo02IZk
**
ScreenCaps courtesy of ScreenCap Paradise:
http://www.screencap-paradise.com/?cat=3
**
Special thanks to 'epd4' for betaing this chapter!!
(later that same day), Friday, April 23rd, 2010:
 
Spike, Buffy, Wes, and Faith spent a few hours on Friday trying to come up with an actual plan to find where the Council may be holding Bess, other than the one Buffy and Spike favored of going in and torturing Quentin Travers for information. Although Wes was still unconvinced that such a place even existed, the only way to prove it would be for Buffy and Spike to go to England and see with their own eyes that the Council wasn’t holding Bess, or any other vampires, captive. He admonished them over and over that they were wasting their time with this wild goose chase, that it was much more likely that they were being held by a paramilitary group or some third-world country and the ‘white room procedures’ Bess described were to find a way to build an army of vampires or add strength and advanced healing, sight, and auditory abilities to their own military personnel. Buffy and Spike, however, were unconvinced and maintained their conviction that it was the Council.

After discussing with Wes and Giles (Giles over the phone, because he was still at Willow and Tara’s) the layout of the Council headquarters in as much detail as they could recall and the various alarms and screening devices they had there, they decided the best course of action would be for Buffy and Giles to make an appointment to see Quentin and discuss (bogus) anomalies that had cropped up with Annie and request the Council’s help sorting them out. On their way out of the meeting, Buffy would hide in the restroom and Giles would turn in both visitor badges on his way out of the building. To help him get both badges checked back in, at the moment Giles got up to the reception desk, Spike would come in the front doors, setting off alarms and causing overall confusion as the staff dealt with the threat.

After everyone left for the night, Buffy would be free to wander the headquarters and find the dungeons – if they existed, or records that would lead her to them. As far as Giles, Wes, and Faith knew, there were no motion detectors on the alarm system, all the alarms were on the perimeter, on the doors and windows, so she should be able to look around without alerting anyone. There were perhaps one or two night watchmen, but they could be easily avoided … they mainly sat in the security office and dozed most of the night. Once she found the dungeons and the prisoners, they’d have to formulate a plan to get Bess out … without knowing exactly what kind of fortress they’d face, it was hard to come up with a plan for that in advance.
 
“What do you plan to do with the other prisoners … assuming there are any?” Wes questioned them.

 

Buffy shrugged and looked at Spike, who just shook his head. Buffy looked back at Wes, “I guess I’ll dust them … I’m the Slayer, they’re vampires … I mean, what they’ve been through isn’t fair but … I can’t just let them go.”
 
“And you intend to restore Bess’ soul?” Wes continued.
 
“Yeah … Willow said she could do it anytime, we just needed to call her – she still has that Medusa orby thing she needs to do the spell. She didn’t think the distance would matter,” Buffy confirmed.
 
“Thesulah,” Wes corrected her. “Orb of Thesulah … not Medusa. Medusa was a…”
 
Buffy narrowed her eyes and glared at him and Wes stopped midsentence.

 

“Why don’t you just restore it now? That way, when you find her, you won’t have a big drama,” Faith filled in the resulting silence.
 
“No bloody way!” Spike piped up, sitting forward in his seat. “What if it takes us a week or a month or a bloody year to find ‘er? You’re gonna leave someone with a soul to face … that? No … no way,” Spike insisted, shaking his head adamantly. “The worst bit for a vamp would be the boredom … those wankers would crush ‘er soul in no time at all with their bloody … games.”



 
Faith held up her hands in surrender. “Just a suggestion … from what you said she’s really strong and … hormonal with a serious case of PMS,” Faith pointed out.
 
“I can control ‘er,” Spike assured them. “No soul … not ‘til she’s out. It’ll be hard enough on ‘er then …”
 
**~**
 
After talking about different scenarios and trying to come up with solutions for things that might go wrong, they turned their attention to a plan for babysitting duties. After talking to Anya, they decided that Faith would pick the kids up at the bus stop each afternoon and watch them until Anya or Xander could pick them up in the evenings, then Faith could patrol and go to work … they’d stay overnight at the Harris’ and Anya would get them all to school in the mornings. It wasn’t ideal, and would be a disruption in the kid’s schedules for sure, but hopefully Buffy and Spike wouldn’t be gone more than a few days.
 
**~**
 
(same day, later that afternoon), Friday, April 23rd, 2010, 2:30pm:
 
Buffy walked into the great room after picking up the kids from the bus stop to find Spike on the telephone with Willy. She could tell by the expression on his face and the way he was pacing back and forth that it wasn’t going well. He’d already called in ‘sick’ two nights in a row … now he was asking for more time off.  As the kids headed upstairs to change into play clothes, Buffy leaned against the wall near the kitchen and listened to half the conversation …
 
“Yeah, I know …”
 
“Yeah … I know …”
 
Spike sighed and rolled his eyes. “I know you need someone dependable … I been bloody dependable …”
 
“Yeah … I know, but I got no choice. I gotta have a week. Gimme this and I’ll be there…”
 
Spike held the phone away from his ear, even Buffy could hear Willy screaming on the other end, but she couldn’t tell what he was saying.
 
“Fire me!?” Spike exclaimed into the receiver. “You can’t bloody fire me!!”
 
“I’ll tell ya why! ‘Cos I bloody quit! Get stuffed you cheap son-of-a-bitch!” Spike screamed into the phone before slamming it down on the cradle and breaking it into several pieces. Spike growled in frustration, yanked the cord out of the wall, and slung the phone across the room, shattering it into even more pieces when it crashed against the wall next to the training room.
 
When Spike began to pick up the end table that it had been sitting on, Buffy rushed over and stopped him. They didn’t need all the furniture destroyed … especially since it appeared they were now both unemployed. “Stop! Spike … please stop!” she yelled, grabbing his hands and pulling him away from the table and towards the training room.
 
Spike let out a litany of curses, some of which Buffy had never even heard before, as she dragged him behind her across the floor and pulled him into the training room, shoving him towards the heavy body bag hanging in the center of the room. Spike tore into it with fists and feet, kicking and hitting and taking out all his frustrations on the poor, defenseless punching bag which had an uncanny resemblance to Willy the wanker … at least in Spike’s mind. When one of the seams ripped and sand began pouring out of it, Spike hit it harder, growling and pounding it until all that remained was a pile of sand on the floor and an empty shell of a bag hanging from the ceiling.

 

“I think you dusted it…” Buffy pointed out when Spike finally stopped, leaning over and resting his hands on his thighs, completely exhausted, mentally and physically, from the last few days and nights. “On the plus side, we don’t have to go to the beach to get sand between our toes now…”
 
“How can you make jokes?” he questioned tersely, looking up at her from his bent position. “Don’t you know what this means?”
 
Buffy pushed off the wall where she’d been waiting for him to get it all out and walked up to him. “You quit your job … you have no idea how many jobs I quit over the last five years … mostly I didn’t even tell them I was quitting, I just walked away – never came back. It’s not the end of the world, Spike. There are other jobs …”

 

“PFFFFT! How many career opportunities do you figure there are for a vampire, Buffy? There ain’t exactly a column for that in the bloody classifieds,” Spike pointed out, standing up straight and waving an arm out for emphasis.
 
Buffy sighed and took his hands in hers. “Spike … we’ll figure it out. We have the money from Willow and we’ll be ok for a while. We need to handle one thing at a time and not get distracted from the mission … you remember the mission, right?” Buffy asked, looking into his eyes.
 
Spike sighed … of course she was right. “Yeah … I remember the bloody mission,” he moaned, pulling her into a hug that he desperately needed. “I just … Buffy, we need …” he started and Buffy pulled back and silenced him with a finger pressed lightly on his lips.
 
“We need to get Bess. Period. Anything beyond that can wait. Anyway, Willy will probably be begging you to come back after a week without you … he’ll probably give you a raise,” Buffy assured him with a smile, dropping her finger from his lips.
 
Spike snorted a laugh and rolled his eyes. “That cheap bastard wouldn’t give his own mum a raise.”
 
“Well, I doubt his mom’s as good a bouncer as you are … I mean ... that’s just a guess, of course,” Buffy quipped, giving him a smile. “It’ll be alright, Spike. Take care of today and tomorrow will take care of itself,” she assured him seriously as she leaned back against him and hugged her arms around his waist.
 
“You’re paraphrasin’ scripture now? What the bloody hell did them religious folks do to ya out there, Slayer?” Spike questioned with a smirk.
 
“What? I can’t know things? I know things – I know lots of things …” Buffy asserted, pulling back and giving him a self-satisfied smirk of her own.

 

Spike had to smile at her … she was the most confounding woman he’d ever known … and that included Dru; but she was also amazing, the most amazing woman he’d ever known. Spike closed his eyes and pulled her close, inhaling her scent and taking comfort in her embrace. She smelled like the promise of a cool, refreshing rain on a sweltering summer’s day and she felt like shimmering rays of sunshine showering over him on a cool winter’s morning … diametric … confounding. He let her wash away his foul mood with her cool warmth and hoped that she was right … about everything.
 
Be not therefore anxious for the morrow, for the morrow shall be anxious for its own things; sufficient for the day is the evil of it. Matthew 6:34
 
**~**
 
4:30pm:
 
The first flight they could get from L.A. to London was the red-eye that night … or more precisely, early Saturday morning. Giles was coming back earlier than planned from Washington to join them. He didn’t know how much he could really do to help them on this mission, but Buffy wanted him to help her with Travers. If he could keep Quentin occupied talking about some imaginary issue with Annie and asking for help from the Council with it, Buffy might be able to wander around the Council Head’s office and nonchalantly scan his bookcases for possible clues while the ‘tweeds’ talked. Then it would be up to Giles and Spike to create enough confusion when he left that the receptionist wouldn’t notice that Buffy hadn’t exited with them.
 
Annie had been beside herself wanting to go with them. “Dad promised that he would take us to London one day!” she insisted, going from begging to crying to pouting and even pitching a temper tantrum to try and get Spike and Buffy to agree to take her with them.
 
“And we will … just not this time,” Buffy assured her, but Annie was inconsolable, finally locking herself in her room and refusing to talk to anyone or even come out for chocolate brownies … granted, they weren’t homemade, but still – chocolate.
 
After Annie had been locked in her room for two hours straight, Spike knocked on her door but was met with silence. “I know you’re in there … I can hear you breathin’ …” he informed her. “Open the door or I’ll take the bloody thing off its hinges …” he demanded. “… and leave it off for the rest of your life,” he added when he didn’t hear her move.
 
Annie shuffled despondently to the door and unlocked it, but didn’t open it. Spike sighed and rolled his eyes as he swung it open and stepped in. She had gone back and lain down on her stomach on the bed, her head turned so she was facing the wall. Spike sat down beside her and put a hand on her back, he could smell her tears and hear her heart fluttering in her chest like a frightened bird.
 
“Niblett … this ain’t a holiday,” he began, telling her the same thing they’d already tried to explain to her earlier. “It’s a mission … there’s a girl in trouble, she needs our help.”
 
“I’ll be good, I won’t get in the way…” Annie argued, her voice barely a whisper, still facing the wall.
 
“I know, pet – but we don’t know how long it’ll take – hell, we aren’t even sure where to look for ‘er …” Spike tried to explain.
 
“Maybe I could help …”
 
Spike sighed … She was more stubborn and determined that her mum – like a dog with a bloody bone.
 
“It might be dangerous, pet … your mum and me would never be able to forgive ourselves if somethin’ happened to you. It’d break our hearts … you wouldn’t want that, would you?” Spike tried.
 
Annie sniffed and wiped at her eyes. “But I want to go so much … I’ll never get to go,” she pouted.
 
“Well now, never’s a long time, pet. I promised that I’d take ya one day, and I will. I haven’t forgotten that … but this just isn’t the time.”
 
Annie sighed and turned over onto her back to look at him, fresh tears leaking from her eyes. “What if something happens to you? Please don’t go, Papa. Please, don’t leave us …” she begged.
 
Then Spike finally understood her unreasonable demands to go with them … it wasn’t about seeing London or his promise to take her one day, it was about her mother and father going off and possibly not coming back … how many times had that happened in her short life?
 
Spike brushed her curls back from her face and wiped the tears from her cheeks with the pad of his thumb. “You know we love you, yeah?” he asked her and she nodded solemnly.

 

“And we wouldn’t go off if it wasn’t important …”
 
 She nodded slowly, not really wanting to admit that whatever the mission was, it was important.
 
“You remember when the bad men took you and Green … and your mum and me, we had to come find you and get you back?” Spike asked her.
 
“Yeah…” Annie answered, her voice small as she remembered that terrifying time in her life.
 
“Well, there’s another girl and someone’s taken her, just like they took you, and she needs our help. We have to get her back … away from the bad men,” Spike explained.
 
“But why can’t her own parents do it? Why do you have to do it?” Annie questioned with logic and wisdom beyond her years.
 
Spike rubbed his forehead and eyes … how was he supposed to answer that? He finally looked back up at her, meeting her eyes with his. “Niblett, one day you’ll understand …”
 
“NO! NO! NOT ONE DAY!” Annie screamed, sitting up. “Now! It’s not fair! I’m not dumb – I see things, I know things! I’m not a little kid! I deserve to understand now!”
 
Spike tilted his head and considered her … she was right about one thing – she wasn’t dumb and she knew when people were pulling the wool over her eyes, even if she didn’t know what it was they were trying to hide from her, she knew something was being hidden.


 
“Ok, that’s fair enough, then,” Spike finally agreed.
 
“Before I was a vampire, I was human – like you and …” he almost said, ‘your mum’ but that wasn’t exactly accurate … he wasn’t a Slayer by any stretch. “… like your Uncle Xander or Rupert,” he amended.
 
Annie was listening with rapt attention now, her brows furrowed in concentration as she listened intently. Finally! Finally someone was gonna tell her the truth!
 
“I was born in 1852 and I grew up and lived my human life in England … in London, but you know that,” he continued. “When I was grown, I got married and m’ wife and I had three children.”
 
Annie’s expression soured as a mixture of confusion and disappointment and hurt clouded her features. “You were married before Mama?” she questioned. “You had … kids … before me?”
 
“Yeah … I had three. Two girls and a boy,” Spike provided solemnly.
 
“Just like us …” Annie pointed out.
 
“Just exactly like you, in fact,” Spike confirmed, not sure how to possibly explain just how exact they were. “When I was turned into a vampire, I couldn’t stay with them anymore.”
 
Annie’s brows furrowed. “Why not?”
 
“‘Cos I was a bad vampire,” Spike explained.

 

Annie’s brows furrowed deeper, her eyes narrowing as she considered this. “You were? How come?”
 
Spike shrugged. “Most vampires are bad, pet … you know that. Wasn’t ‘til I met your mum that I … changed.”
 
“I took the bits to a trusted friend and they raised them for me … I went back to visit them but … they had moved away and I couldn’t find them again. What I didn’t know was one of the girls was a Slayer. She fought alone … I wasn’t there to help her like I do with your mum … like I would do for you if you were a Slayer one day,” Spike continued.
 
“Did the bad vampires … kill her?” Annie asked tentatively, knowing very well the dangers of being a Slayer.
 
Spike sighed. “The vampires made her a vampire … and now she’s in a dungeon somewhere bein’ held prisoner – we have to find her and get her out – bring her home, just like we did you.”
 
Annie considered this a few moments, her face a study in concentration. “Billy’s dream dungeon?” she asked, her eyes widening with surprise.
 
Spike smiled at her … he could almost see the wheels turning and the dots connecting in her mind. Definitely not dumb. “Yeah … that’s how we found out … Junior dreamt of ‘er.
 
“So … you see, that’s why we haveta go, pet. I’m her Dad … there’s no one else,” Spike concluded – finally getting back to her actual objection. He had no idea how to tell her that not only was he Bess’ dad, but Buffy was her mum … so he just left that bit out.
 
Annie sighed and looked down at her hands in her lap. “Does Mama know?”
 
Spike furrowed his brow and shook his head, trying to figure out what she meant. “She’s going with me …” he pointed out.

 

“No, I mean about you being married before and having kids and … and being a bad vampire,” Annie clarified.
 
Spike gave her a reassuring smile. “Yeah, pet – she knows. We don’t keep secrets…”
 
“Were you … very bad?”
 
Spike took a deep breath and let it out slowly. He’d opened this door, now he had to step through it. He knew this day would come, he’d just hoped it’d be in another ten or twenty or fifty years. “Yeah … I was. I did lots of horrible things … things I’m not proud of, things I never wanted you to know. But I won’t lie to you about it …” Spike’s voice trailed off, hoping his daughter could forgive him, as Buffy had, for the bad he’d done in the past.
 
Annie looked down at her hands again and frowned, considering his story, pursing her lips and moving them from side to side as she thought. “Do you miss them … your other kids?” she asked, changing the topic slightly.
 
“I did for a long time … then I met your mum and … you came along and filled that empty place in m’ heart with such joy. I know you’re growing up, pet … but you’ll always be my little girl – I’m sorry if we don’t give you credit for understanding more… we just try to keep you away from … bad stuff … scary stuff,” Spike admitted to her.
 
Annie shrugged. “I know … but I’m eleven now,” she informed him, as if eleven was some sort of a magical number. “I’ll be in middle school next year,” she reminded him, looking up and meeting his eyes.
 
Spike nodded knowingly. Why did kids always want to grow up so bloody fast? If they had any idea, they’d hang on to these years as long as they could, but that never worked either. “I’ll try to remember that.”
 
“Do you love Mama as much your other wife?” Annie continued her interrogation. While the gates were open she wanted to get as much information as she could.
 
“More …” Spike answered her simply and honestly. “There’s no one that could ever compare to your mum … not for me. She’s my soul mate … do you know what that is?”
 
Annie shook her head, her eyes now bright and eager as she drank in the flood of emotions and information that was flowing from her father.
 
“A soul mate is someone who is the other half of you. Before you find them, you feel like a puzzle with a piece missin’ … but when you finally find that piece, your whole world changes. It goes from grainy, black ‘n white to Technicolor in 3D, from a silent movie to surround sound, it’s bloody brilliant,” Spike tried to explain. “One day you’ll know … one day you’ll come and tell me you’ve found the one that completes you. It’ll be the happiest and saddest day of my life.”
 
“How come?” she questioned.
 
“‘Cos you won’t be my girl anymore, you’ll be ‘is.”
 
“I’ll always be your girl, Papa,” Annie assured him.

Spike hugged her to him and dropped a kiss on the top of her head. “I love you, Niblett.”
 
“I love you too, Papa. Please be careful … ‘cos if anything happened to you it would break our hearts … you wouldn’t want that, would you?” she tossed his own words back at him as she hugged his neck tightly.
 
“No, Niblett, I’d never want that.”



 **~**

{{Click here to hear "My Little Girl” by Tim McGraw on YouTube  }}



Gotta hold on easy as I let you go.
Gonna tell you how much I love you, though you think you already know.
I remember I thought you looked like an angel wrapped in pink so soft and warm.
You've had me wrapped around your finger since the day you were born.


You're beautiful baby from the outside in.
Chase your dreams but always know the road that'll lead you home again.
Go on, take on this whole world.
But to me you know you'll always be, my little girl.


When you were in trouble that crooked little smile could melt my heart of stone.
Now look at you, I've turned around and you've almost grown.
Sometimes you're asleep I whisper "I Love You!" in the moonlight at your door.
As I walk away, I hear you say, "Daddy Love You More!"


You're beautiful baby from the outside in.
Chase your dreams but always know the road that'll lead you home again.
Go on, take on this whole world.
But to me you know you'll always be, my little girl.


Someday, some boy will come and ask me for your hand.
But I won't say "yes" to him unless I know, he's the half
that makes you whole, he has a poet's soul, and the heart of a man's man.
I know he'll say that he's in love.
But between you and me. He won't be good enough!


You're beautiful baby from the outside in.
Chase your dreams but always know the road that'll lead you home again.
Go on, take on this whole world.
But to me you know you'll always be, my little girl.

End Notes:
TBC ... More to come. What challenges will they face in London? We'll find out right after Buffy and Spike take a small detour from the angst on the long flight to London, which will be next.
Come Fly With Me by Passion4Spike
Author's Notes:
Fly the friendly skies …
**
Come Fly With Me, Frank Sinatra
http://youtu.be/Euci0_BBmNE
**
ScreenCaps courtesy of ScreenCap Paradise:
http://www.screencap-paradise.com/?cat=3
**
Special thanks to 'epd4' for betaing this chapter!!
**
Warning for a severe LACK of angst ...
(early am next morning), Saturday, April 24th, 2010, 1:30am:
 
Spike, Buffy, and Giles settled into their seats for the ten hour flight from L.A. to London; Giles on the window, Buffy in the middle and Spike on the aisle. With the time difference, they’d arrive at 7:30pm London time Saturday night. Wes had arranged for a meeting with Quentin Travers for Monday at 3:30 in the afternoon. Travers actually suggested they meet on Sunday, but there wouldn’t be a full staff there on Sunday and that would make it difficult, if not impossible, for Buffy to slip off unnoticed and stay in the building to look around on her own after everyone left.
 
After they got their carry-ons stowed and were buckled in, Giles pulled something out of the bag under his seat and handed to Buffy. “Willow sent this for you, it’s a ‘smart phone’,” he told her. “When we have Bess secure, you can take a photograph of her with it and email it to Willow and she’ll have a passport waiting at the US Embassy for her. I’ve got a certified birth certificate in my bag for her, as well – Willow listed her birth year as 1992, so she’ll be listed as eighteen … as an adult, as you suggested.”




“Willow hacked into the Passport Department?” Buffy asked with surprise. Buffy knew Willow had found a way to forge a birth certificate, but she didn’t know about the passport. She assumed they would have to figure that out on the fly. Buffy and Spike had talked about what age to make Bess … it didn’t seem fair to make her fourteen … after all, she was over a hundred years old … certainly she deserved to be treated like an adult by the world at large. Willow suggested they make her twenty-one … but Buffy and Spike both thought that would be pushing it a bit far, given how young she looked, eighteen was a stretch, but twenty-one would be a giant leap.
 
“I believe it’s the Department of State, actually … and yes, apparently so,” Giles replied, still holding out the phone.
 
“She’s scary …” Buffy muttered, taking the phone from his hand.
 
“Quite…” Giles agreed.
 
Buffy looked down at the ‘smart phone’. “Where are the buttons, the numbers? How do you dial it?” she asked, turning it over in her hands.
 
“They come up on the screen,” Giles told her. “Here…” he continued, handing her a manual for the phone that was half an inch thick and written in a font so small that she needed a magnifying glass to read … it also appeared to be in some language other than English, but she wasn’t 100% certain.
 
Buffy fanned the pages on the manual quickly with her fingers and shook her head. “You know … I’m not really that good with technology … why don’t you keep it?” she suggested to Giles, trying to hand it back to him.

 

“I afraid you’re much more skilled at technology than I am!” he insisted, pushing the phone back towards her.
 
“But you’re so much better with books than I am …” Buffy argued, pushing it back at him.
 
“You’re younger – your adaptation skills are much more flexible than mine,” Giles shot back.
 
“You’re smarter … I really hate it when my phone is smarter than I am,” Buffy countered as they pushed the phone back and forth between them like a hot potato.
 
“You don’t give yourself enough credit, Buffy, you’re much brighter than you realize,” Giles insisted.
 
“I’m gonna be on Slayer duty, it might get broken … it looks kind of fragile – it’s really a Watcher phone, not a Slayer phone,” Buffy pointed out.
 
Giles sighed – he couldn’t really argue with that, it did look rather fragile. When he hesitated, Buffy dropped the phone and the instruction manual into his lap in victory as they taxied for take-off. Giles suddenly wished they had brought Annie … she’d undoubtedly be able to work this contraption without even reading the bloody manual.
 
With that decided, Buffy laced her right hand in Spike’s left, looking past Giles and out the window as the plane began racing down the runway, building speed for take-off. She hadn’t been in a plane in a long while … well, not in a passenger seat, she’d hidden in the cargo hold of a couple during her vengeance demon hunt, but it was more exciting to see the runway lights flashing by like blurs as the g-force built.
 
It was exhilarating to Buffy when the plane lifted off and started climbing; it was one of those feelings that never got old for her. It always made her think of the first time her mom and dad had taken her on a plane when they’d gone to visit her Aunt Arleen in Downers Grove, Illinois when she was five. It’s one of those indescribable feelings … excitement mixed with a little fear with some elation sprinkled on top, and it felt just the same now as it did all those years ago. It made her a little tingly all over and she squeezed Spike’s hand tightly in hers as they left the ground. She turned away from the window and met his eyes with hers, which seemed to settle the tingling feeling to one specific area of her body – was that from the takeoff or was it Spike’s eyes delving into hers that did that? She wished the reason for the trip was different … if it had been a vacation she knew she’d be giddy right about now … as it was, she felt hopeful that they would be able to find Bess quickly and break her out of the hell she’d been in for so long.

 

Spike watched Buffy as she looked out the window at the lights speeding past and smiled to himself. At times she was so much like a child … so easily pleased and excited by what some people would consider mundane or even scary. He folded his hand around hers when she took it as the plane accelerated down the runway. The last time he’d been on a plane had been when he and Dru came over from Europe after she’d been attacked and nearly killed in Prague. They normally didn’t take airplanes – you could never predict when you might have sunlight beaming in on you, but she’d insisted that Miss Edith told her the cure was to be found in Sunnydale and he wanted to get his dark princess there as quickly as possible. Back then tickets were transferrable and, other than asking if you packed your own bag, there was little in the way of security, especially at the smaller airports. He’d killed a couple of travelers and taken their tickets, traveling first class all the way from Munich, where he’d taken Dru after they’d fled Prague, to London, New York, then on to L.A.
 
Spike wished the reason for this trip was different … he wished all the bits were with them and he was taking them, as he’d promised, back to his hometown for a visit. Other than quick passes through, he hadn’t actually spent any time in London in many years. What was the saying? “You can never go home again.” He was quite certain that was doubly true in his case, but Annie had her heart set on seeing it and … well, he could never resist trying to make a Summers girl’s dreams come true. When Buffy turned away from the window and looked into his eyes just as the plane took off and the g-forces really kicked in, he prayed to their Guardian Angel that he could make her dreams come true … not just on this mission to save their daughter, but forever. He’d quit his job, they had no source of income at all, there was a new little bit on the way and, if things went as planned, they have a new ‘big bit’ coming home with them; five children … plus JJ half the time, and no job or prospects and very little savings.
 
Well, he couldn’t worry about that now … as Buffy so eloquently informed him, worry about today – let tomorrow take care of itself. And today, right now, this minute, he had Buffy at his side for the next ten hours, completely diversion-free, totally uninterrupted. Too bad planes didn’t have private berths like trains … he was sure they could make those long hours fly by…
 
As the plane leveled out and the seatbelt sign was turned off, Buffy put those tinglies out of her mind as she watched the flight attendant explain where the exits were and how to use your seat cushion as a floatation device. She wondered who would remember to take their seat cushion with them if they managed to survive a crash landing. She also wondered if there was some part of the seat that could be used to fight the sharks off and keep hypothermia from setting in while you floated on your cushion in the freezing waters of the north Atlantic… but for some reason that was never mentioned. When the speech was over, she pulled out some magazines that she’d borrowed from Annie and began flipping through them. Buffy bit her lip to keep from giggling when she saw Giles open the instruction manual for the new phone and start studying it – she wished all her battles were that easy to win.
 
“What’s a ‘Lady Gaga’?” Buffy asked Spike, holding up one of the magazines for him to see.

 

Spike sighed and rolled his eyes. “Fancies ‘erself a singer, I reckon …” Spike explained.
 
Buffy pursed her lips in thought as she thumbed through more pictures and skimmed the article. “But … what is she a ‘Lady’ of?”
 
Spike shook his head and shrugged. “Pre-teen girls and hormone-charged, sex deprived boys?” he guessed.
 
Buffy shook her head. “When I was a girl, the only ‘Lady’ we knew was Lady Di …”

 

“I reckon Gaga’s a totally different kinda ‘lady’, pet.”
 
“No doubt …” Buffy agreed still shaking her head. “I guess it was the whole fairy-tale mentality … young, sweet, pretty kindergarten teacher falls in love and marries a prince … a real prince … and becomes an actual princess living in an actual castle …” Buffy began.
 
“Until he fools around on ‘er, she fools around on him, they divorce and she dies in a mysterious car crash less than twenty years after she married the tosser…” Spike finished.
 
Buffy rolled her eyes. “Fairy tales suck.”

 

“Not all of ‘em…” Spike disagreed, lifting the arm rest that was between them and sliding over against her. Buffy leaned into him and Spike tucked her under his arm as she rested her head on his shoulder. “Once upon a time, there was a vampire … he was the baddest, meanest, most cunning vamp the world had ever known… oh, and bloody handsome.”
 
“And brimming with modesty …” Giles interjected dryly from the other side of Buffy.
 

“Angelus?” Buffy questioned with a smirk. Spike growled at both of them, low and deep, and Buffy giggled, patting a hand soothingly on his thigh, urging him to continue.
 
“He won battle after battle,” Spike continued. “… defeating all comers, even two of his mortal enemies … Slayers. His skill and reputation as the slayer of Slayers grew and he was known far and wide – his reputation for destruction and bloodshed preceded him wherever he went.”
 
“Except in Sunnydale, where they’d never heard of him …” Buffy interjected.

 

“Who’s tellin’ this bloody story? You or me?” Spike questioned in mock agitation.
 
“Sorry…”
 
“Despite all his accomplishments over his long life, the vampire still felt unfulfilled …” Spike continued.
 
“The poor dear …” Giles intoned, never taking his eyes off the instruction manual for the phone that he was studying intently.
 
Spike reached over and shoved him in the shoulder. “Don’t need no help from the bloody peanut gallery…
 
“Then he came to Sunnydale … his dark princess was ill and they hoped to find a cure on the Hellmouth. What he hadn’t expected to find was …” Spike hesitated a moment and looked down at Buffy just as she looked up at him. When their eyes met and locked, Spike continued, “…a shirty Slayer with stringy hair and pimples on ‘er chin, and an over-the-hill librarian for a Watcher,” he finished with a smirk.

Buffy huffed and smacked him on the stomach as she sat up and glared at him and he laughed. “I did not have any pimples on my chin!” she objected and Spike laughed harder, leaning forward in his seat and resting his head on the back of the seat in front of him trying to get his mirth under control.
 
 

“You’re mean …” Buffy moaned, crossing her arms and sticking her bottom lip out in a pout that trumped Annie’s at her best. “I told you fairy tales sucked.”
 
Spike sat back and reached his arm back around her, but she pulled back stubbornly, not letting him pull her against him. “Sorry, luv … ‘ere now, c’mon and I’ll fix it…”
 
Buffy snorted softly but leaned back against him and Spike wrapped his arm back around her. “What the vamp didn’t know was, behind that pimply exterior was a heart of gold and a soul that fit his like a key in a lock. He didn’t understand what was happening to him … why did he always fail against this girl and her band of misfits?”
 
“Perhaps because he was impulsive, lacked discipline, and had no ability to make or follow a proper plan …” Giles interjected dryly, never looking up from his book, and Spike nudged him in the shoulder again.


 
“Or maybe it was ‘cos he had fallen in love with this girl – like a stake to ‘is heart, she’d embedded herself in his soul the moment he laid eyes on ‘er. The demon fought the man … protesting the intrusion with all its might, but when he saw her shackled, at the mercy of her adversaries … the man knew what he had to do. He had to save the girl, no matter the cost, ‘cos she was the half that made him whole … she was the one that made his heart soar, who gave him wings…”
 
“Perhaps he should’ve simply nicked some Red Bull from the grocery,” Giles interjected and Spike punched him in the arm harder.

 

Giles finally looked up from the instruction manual and rubbed his arm where Spike had hit him. “I do hope this story will be over soon,” he told Spike. “I believe if it gets any more saccharine I will require an air-sickness bag.”
 
“No wonder you don’t ‘ave a bloody girlfriend, Watcher,” Spike sneered at him. “Try a little humor and romance once in a while – you might actually get some nookie. Poor Watcher … I can see the epitaph on your headstone now, ‘Cuppa tea, cuppa tea, almost got shagged, cuppa tea.’”
 
Giles smiled ruefully at Spike. “There are other pursuits which are quite fulfilling, and I’ve been told I have a marvelous sense of humor. Does everything have to be about shagging with you?”
 
Buffy and Spike both shrugged. “Not everything,” Buffy agreed. “But … ninety-five percent, wouldn’t you say?” she questioned in a serious tone, looking at Spike.

 

“Ninety-eight … I’d say ninety-eight percent,” Spike corrected her and Buffy shrugged again, looking back at Giles and nodding her agreement.
 
“Dear Lord … please give me strength,” Giles mumbled, rolling his eyes as he turned his attention back to his studies.
 
After about an hour of flipping through magazines, talking about the celebrities on the pages, and trying to guess who told Giles he had a ‘marvelous sense of humor,’ Spike and Buffy both dozed off …
 
Spike looked down the aisle of the crowded plane and watched the stewardess … uhhhh, flight attendant, offering the passengers snacks and drinks. She was smiling and friendly as she passed out the little packs of peanuts and poured sodas and other, stiffer drinks for the weary travelers. As she got to their row, she looked down at Spike and gave him a saucy smile, her green eyes smoldered as she raked her eyes up and down his body.

 

“See anything you like?” she asked, her voice low and sexy as she leaned down near him and rested one hand on his upper thigh. Her breasts were inches from his face and Spike licked his lips, unable to tear his eyes away from the darker skin of her nipples that were playing peek-a-boo with the black lace of her low-cut uniform.
 
Spike gulped and looked over at Buffy, who was sound asleep, her head resting on his shoulder, then looked back and met the eyes of the stewar … uhhh ... flight attendant. “Well?” Buffy asked, rubbing her hand up and down his thigh from his crotch to his knee and back again.
 
“Coffee, tea, or me?” she questioned coyly, leaning in and brushing her mouth against his, just barely touching his soft lips with hers.
 
Spike moaned deeply as she ran her tongue across his lips, sparking bolts of searing lust that shot straight to his groin. Spike reached out a hand and slid it slowly up the fishnet stockings that covered her legs to the soft skin of her upper thigh and around to her firm, bare ass, squeezing it hard in his hand as she teased his lips and tongue with hers. His cock threatened the zipper on his jeans; he’d purposely not worn button-fly jeans this day, thinking the zipper would be stronger ... but was suddenly glad he packed and extra pair in his carry-on, ‘cos he wasn’t so sure anymore.
 
“Baby likes t’ play, does she?” Spike questioned with a smirk as he yanked her down on top of him. Suddenly, they weren’t crammed in like sardines back in coach any longer and all the other passengers seemed to have faded from view – it was just them, in their own private plane … in their own private shared dream.
 
Buffy squealed as he pulled her down and turned her around on his lap so she was sitting sideways, looking up at him, her legs dangling out into the aisle.
 
“I bet you offer that sweet treat between your legs to all the blokes…” Spike speculated as he ran his hand up her inside thigh, past the stockings to her wet, hot pussy lips. Buffy squirmed and moaned when he pressed a finger between her labia and began teasing her, sliding his finger up and down her slick, sensitive skin.
 
“Unh-uh …” she assured him. “Only the biggest, baddest, meanest, hardest …” she began before he touched down lightly on her hard clit, sending electricity shooting out in all directions. Her body jerked as the shocks ricocheted through her, leaving a path of burning embers in their wake. “Oh God!”
 
Spike growled against her neck as he continued fingering her pussy. “You’ve never met anyone bigger, badder, meaner, or harder … you’re gonna be begging me for it before I’m done with you, pet.”
 
“Oh … you wouldn’t torture a poor, horny, defenseless girl, would you?” Buffy moaned, putting the back of her hand to her forehead and leaning her head back melodramatically like and actress in a silent movie.

 

“Within an inch of ‘er life …” Spike assured her as he licked a line down from her neck to the dark chasm between her cleavage. He followed the lace at the top of her dress with his tongue until he found one elusive pink areola. He pressed the fabric away as his mouth latched onto her hard nipple causing Buffy’s back to arch up against him as she moaned her approval of his torture.
 
“You’ll never want anyone else when I’m done with ya,” Spike warned the sultry blonde in his lap.
 
“No guy’s that good … I’m insatiable. I’ve got muscles you can’t even imagine! It’ll be you that’ll never want anyone else, mister. I ride ‘em hard and put ‘em up wet and wobbly,” Buffy warned back with a smirk. “I’ll be the only friendly skies you’ll ever want to fly again,” Buffy assured him, pressing a hand between them and squeezing his hard-on through his jeans.
 
Spike sucked in a sharp breath of air when she groped him, her hot hand painfully strong – he couldn’t wait to test out the rest of the muscles of which she spoke. “We’ll just have to see then, won’t we, missy?” Spike challenged as he pulled his hand from under her skirt and ripped her dress down the middle with both hands, exposing her full, round breasts to him.
 
Buffy shrieked in surprise then moaned deeply when his mouth came down on one tit and began sucking, hard and rough and his hand pulled and twisted the other nipple between his long, slender fingers. “Mmmmmm … baby likes it rough, does she?” Spike questioned, his words damp against her hot skin.
 
“Oh yeah … ride me rough,” Buffy moaned, pulling his face back against her breast and Spike accommodated her, sucking and licking, biting and pulling her sensitive nipples until she screamed out – her body tensing and quivering in his lap, her ass pressing down hard against his own raging desire as she flew through the dark skies, soaring around the stars and skimming over the clouds, no airplane required.
 
“More …” Buffy moaned as she came back down from the heavens. Spike smirked … this was gonna be easier than he imagined. She was already wanting more … she’d be begging him for it all soon enough.
 
Spike pushed her off his lap and dropped her unceremoniously down onto the floor at his feet. “Me first,” he demanded as he unfastened his belt, unbuttoned his jeans, and carefully slid the zipper down.
 
Buffy turned around and glared at him as she began to stand up … but was stopped short by the vision before her. Spike stroked a hand slowly up and down his cock and met her eyes with his. “Suck me off,” he ordered and Buffy’s eyes were drawn back down to the long, thick, hard weapon he was wielding. She licked her lips involuntarily at the sight as she thought of riding it to utter exhaustion, of how the engorged head would feel pressing into her, how his hard body could slam against her…

 

Buffy stayed on her knees and leaned forward between his legs, running her hands up from his knees to his thighs, feeling the hard muscles beneath the denim, and her certainty that he could deliver what she needed grew. Leaving her hands on his thighs, Buffy leaned forward and touched the tip of his cock with her tongue and Spike released his grip on his throbbing member, leaving it to her. The taste of his pre-cum was salty and spicy on her tongue … Someone’s been eating spicy wings without me, she mused with a smirk as she dipped down for another taste.
 
Spike’s cock jumped and waved in the air for a few seconds until she caught it with her lips and swirled up the slick liquid from its head with her tongue. Spike moaned, his eyes closing involuntarily and his head leaning back against the seat, as she began moving her mouth slowly down his length, her lips just barely touching the ultra-sensitive, soft skin covering his rock-hard erection. Buffy squeezed his thighs tightly in her hands, in sharp contrast to the delicate way she was skimming her lips and tongue over his cock, and the pain/pleasure quotient threatened to overwhelm him. When she got back up to the head, she flicked her tongue over his taut frenulum band, just barely touching it, and Spike tightened his grip on the armrests of his seat to keep from pulling her face down against him and ravaging her mouth with his burning need, determined to make her be the first one to lose control.
 
Buffy continued her torture of him, never touching his shaft with her hands, only her lips and tongue, and only with soft, wispy licks and sucks and touches until his whole body was as tight as bow being pulled beyond its capacity, on the verge of snapping. Spike may be the king of teasing torture, but she most certainly was the queen … he’d taught her well, perhaps too well.
 
Buffy suddenly pulled off him and stood up. When Spike opened his eyes, she leaned over, her mouth next to his ear, her round breasts bouncing freely in front of him. “If you want me, you have to catch me…” she whispered before turning and running down the aisle towards the front of the plane.
 
“Bloody hell…” Spike muttered as he stood up and followed as quickly as he could … holding his jeans up with one hand. He never could figure out why kids these days wanted to wear pants down around their ass, sliding down off their hips, always having to hold onto the waist to keep them from puddling around their ankles. He hoped he didn’t have to go far like this … his hard-on raging and his pants undone and having to be held up … or dropped … hmmm…

 

Spike entered the last room she could possibly be in in his full glory … boots, jeans and t-shirt shed along the way, and closed the door behind him. Buffy sat between the pilot and co-pilot’s chairs on the instrument console, facing the door and waiting for her special passenger to arrive for a personal tour of the cockpit. She bit her bottom lip and grinned selfishly when he came in … oh yeah, that hard body would definitely be able to deliver what she needed. It would be wilder than any eight-second ride and with those muscles … sculpted abs, firm thighs, tight ass, solid chest … it would last much, much longer.
 
“What took you so long?” Buffy questioned coyly as she leaned back, spreading her legs open as she propped one foot up on the pilot’s chair and the other on the co-pilot’s.
 
“You’re a hard girl to find…” Spike explained, stalking up to her slowly until he was standing between her legs. He pushed her short skirt up to reveal her wet, hot heaven … the aroma of her arousal nearly sending him spiraling out of control. Spike pressed his hips near her and slid his cock down her wet slit, over her clit, until it pressed against her hot, throbbing hole.
 
He leaned forward, putting a hand on each side of her ass … “Are you ready to beg me for it yet?” he whispered against her ear.
 
“Are you?” Buffy countered as she reached between them and dragged a fingernail lightly over his balls.

 

Spike’s eyes closed and his hips jerked involuntarily, pressing his glans into her slightly. “Tell me you want it,” he demanded.
 
“Tell me you need it…” Buffy countered, trailing her finger along the length of his shaft and Spike couldn’t stop himself from pressing in further.
 
Buffy gasped and her eyes fluttered closed as the swollen head of his cock slipped in and her pussy walls closed around it, aching for more.
 
“Tell me…” they both moaned.
 
The lover’s opened their eyes and looked into the depths of the other, their bodies thrumming with barely contained desire. Spike lowered his mouth to hers and kissed her softly … his lips touching hers lightly, like the gossamer wings of a passing angel. Buffy wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled his mouth harder against hers as their passion ignited like a bolt of lightning striking a drought stricken forest …
 
They moved as one, Spike pressing in as Buffy wrapped her legs around his slim hips and pulled him against her. Then there was no holding back … they’d driven each other to the edge of ecstasy, now they both needed it … both wanted it – both had to have the reward, both had to feel their lover cum, both had to fly.
 
Spike pounded into her, hard and fast, slamming down on her clit as his cock ravaged her pussy, just like they both needed. Buffy pushed back on something behind her to get more leverage, to fuck him harder, to take him deeper into her core.
 
“God, Buffy … fuck, so fucking hot … God, woman, what you do to me!” Spike gasped against her. “Drive me crazy … crazy as a bloody June bug in December!”
 
“Yes, Spike … fuck me, baby … Oh, God … yes, yes! Damn it … harder!” Buffy demanded. “So good! Yes! God, Spike … fuck yes!” she screamed at him as they both completely lost control and let their bodies do what they did better than anything – take each other to heaven.
 
The lovers felt like they were soaring, their speed building, faster and faster, flying through the sky at warp speed... then Buffy realized it wasn’t them soaring faster, but the plane. She turned her head and looked out the cockpit window and saw the ground approaching quickly. She realized the thing she’d pushed on for leverage was the stick that controls the altitude! They were in a nose dive and would crash any second!

 

Spike looked up out the window when he felt Buffy’s intensity change. “Oh fuck!” they both exclaimed at once, jerking awake in their seats next to Giles. Buffy’s heart was racing, her skin flushed and her chest heaved with labored breaths as she tried to get her bearings. Spike wasn’t much better … his heart would’ve raced right out of his chest … if it actually needed to beat.
 
“Are you quite alright?” Giles asked, looking at them both with concern.
 
Buffy looked around … the plane was mostly dark, everyone around them seemed to be sleeping – the plane was fine, flying level with a low, steady hum of the engines in the background. Buffy blew out a sigh of relief, reaching out a hand to Spike. When their fingers touched it felt like electricity jumping between them as their bodies thrummed and tingled with unfulfilled yearning and an overdose of adrenaline.
 
“Yeah … yeah, fine – just a … bad dream,” Buffy stammered in response to Giles’ question.
 
“I have to go to the bathroom …” she announced suddenly, fumbling with her seatbelt.
 
“So do I,” Spike agreed, standing up and trying to adjust the hard-on in his pants without being too obvious.
 
As Buffy stepped out into the aisle in front of Spike, she heard Giles comment dryly, “Do be careful, won’t you? You don’t want to send the bloody plane into a nose dive…”

 

Spike smirked at him before quickly following Buffy to the lavatory, pushing her into the small room and closing the door behind them. He could hear some snickers from the flight attendants, but he was sure it wasn’t anything they hadn’t seen before and he didn’t let it deter him from his mission.
 
Spike spun Buffy around as they both fumbled with the snaps and buttons and zippers on their jeans … It had been much easier in the dream to shed his clothes … he just wished them away. In this cramped place it was frustratingly difficult, and the faster they each tried to go, the longer it seemed to take. Spike’s wasn’t so bad, he only had to unbutton and unzip and he was ready … Buffy’s was a little harder. She pulled her shirt and bra off easily, wanting to feel his hands on her skin, then they both tugged at her jeans and damp thong, sliding them down to her ankles. Buffy toed one shoe off and tried to pull that leg through, nearly kneeing Spike in the groin in her zeal to be free. Mumbled ‘oh’s and ‘oww’s and ‘sorry’s filled the small room until finally, thankfully … she was also free from her apparently demonic-possessed clothing.

 

With her jeans still wrapped around one ankle, one shoe on, one off, Spike lifted Buffy up onto the small sink and she wrapped her legs around him, pulling him against her. Spike guided his cock to her slick hole as she wrapped her arms around his neck and captured his lips with hers. Spike’s hands wandered over her golden skin, along the swell of her breasts, her ribcage, and down her back, burning her skin with his cool, delicate fingers.
 
They both gasped against the other’s mouth when he pushed into her, stopping with just the head of his cock buried in her heat. Spike pulled back slightly from the kiss, their lips barely touching.
 
“I need you,” he whispered to her.
 
“I want you,” Buffy moaned back.
 
Spike pressed into her, filling her supple, aching core with his hardness as he kissed her lips with that same light touch that he’d used in the dream.
 
“God, Spike … love you so much,” Buffy mumbled against his full lips as he began moving slowly in and out of her smoldering heat.
 
“Love you too,” he murmured as he began moving faster … there was no need for teasing now, no need for foreplay or tantalizing torture … they both just needed to fly.
 
“Come fly with me,” Buffy whispered to him and Spike growled his assent against her mouth. He grabbed her hips to keep her from sliding off the edge of the counter and into the small sink as he increased his pace on the short strokes and pushed deep into her on the long ones. Buffy pressed one hand against the mirror behind her to help steady herself as Spike slammed his hips against hers, burying his cock deep and hard into her trembling pussy.
 
“Yes … yes, Spike … God baby, so good!” Buffy breathed, trying to keep her voice low.
 
“Cum for me, Buffy … so tight, you are … God, woman … so fucking hot,” Spike murmured back to her as he held his own release, waiting for her to be there with him.
 
“Oh, God … oh yes … yes, yesssss!” Buffy began to scream and Spike covered her mouth with his as he felt her sugar walls tighten and convulse around him as her orgasm washed over her. He smothered her screams and she stifled his roar as he let go, knowing that he’d find her flying through the night sky on her way to heaven. His cum erupted into her, his cock throbbing and surging within her, sending her soaring once again.
 
The lovers shot like rockets up towards the moon and stars and, when they’d gotten as high as the heavens, they both exploded into a fantastic fireworks display. Bright sparks of red, yellow, green, blue, and purple lit up the dark sky as the lovers painted a breathtaking mural of love with their passion for each other. The colors danced and swirled and curled around each other … exploding with loud bangs and whistles before slowly drifting back down to earth, leaving nothing more than a smoky outline of the display lingering above them.

 

Buffy pulled her lips away from Spike as she gasped for breath, clinging to his neck as her body heaved and trembled against him. Spike leaned on her and the small counter around the sink, trying to keep his knees from buckling … trying to stay buried in her sweet pussy just a little while longer.
 
“God, Spike … that was so good,” Buffy finally gasped out between breaths.
 
“Bloody brilliant,” Spike agreed, finally trusting his legs enough to back up so she could get down off the cold, hard counter.
 
They both cleaned up and readjusted their clothes; Buffy pulled her bra, shirt, jeans, and shoe back on and tried to fix her hair as best she could without a hairbrush. It’s hard to look nonchalant and innocent coming out of airplane lav after mind blowing sex … so they didn’t even try. Buffy winked at one of the flight attendants who looked up when they exited the small bathroom and Spike gave her a smirk and the woman smiled at them.

 

“You know, you really should slide the lock next time so it shows ‘occupied’,” she advised with a knowing smile.
 
“Ooops!” Buffy’s hand went to her open mouth as she looked wide-eyed at Spike, but he just shrugged. No harm done … but he did make a mental note for later … it was a long flight, after all.
 
When Spike and Buffy got settled back into their seats, the same attendant brought them each a bottle of water. “Thought you might need to re-hydrate,” she explained with grin, then she saw Giles looking up from his reading. “The air on planes is really dry …” she added.
 
Spike and Buffy took the water and thanked her. When she walked away, Giles turned his attention back to the smart phone, which he’d nearly mastered by now, pulling up menus and settings and taking some dark, blurry pictures of the inside of the plane. He couldn’t actually make calls or send messages or anything on the plane, but he was getting the hang of it and Willow had loaded a bunch of photos on there of Eddie for him, which helped immensely.

 

Buffy giggled when she realized that the water bottles each had a pair of pilot’s wings taped to them with the words “Mile High” in the center. She discreetly removed the pin from the bottle and slipped it in her pocket; Spike started to pin his on his shirt, though. Don’t you dare! Buffy chastised him silently, looking over at Giles to make sure he hadn’t seen. Spike sighed and rolled his eyes before tucking the memento into his pocket, as well.
 
“So … I see you’ve earned your wings,” Giles observed dryly, not lifting his eyes from the phone.
 
“Huh? What wings?” Buffy asked innocently. “Oh, those? They’re for the kids … just little souvenirs to take back from the trip…” Buffy explained.
 
Giles looked up from his new toy, which he was actually beginning to like, and met her eyes. “It may surprise you to learn that I have known for some years where babies come from and I do realize that you are not a child, Buffy,” Giles informed her. “I do appreciate your attempts at discretion, although, frankly, saying that neither you nor Spike are masters of stealth or subtlety, would be a gross understatement.
 
“May I give you some advice?” Giles asked her and Buffy shrugged, not really sure what to say to all that. She thought they had been plenty stealthy and subtle… except for the not locking the door part.

 

“Next time, wait for the movie, it will cover the god-awful racket that you two make when you’re trying to be quiet, and be sure to turn your shirt right side out before you put it back on,” her Watcher advised, cocking a brow at the seam on her shoulder.
 
Buffy looked down at her shirt and turned ten shades of red as she realized that she had it on inside-out. Shit!
 
Buffy stood up to go back to the lav to fix her shirt. “Welcome to the club, by the way,” Giles offered, as he looked back down at the phone and began browsing through the photos of his son yet again.
 
Buffy furrowed her brow and looked at him. “You’re in the Mile High Club?” she asked Giles in a shocked whisper, leaning down so her voice wouldn’t carry.
 
In the club? My dear, Buffy … I was a founding member.”
 
**~**
 
{{Click here to hear "Come Fly With My” by Frank Sinatra on YouTube  }}

Come fly with me, let's fly, let's fly away
If you can use some exotic booze
There's a bar in far Bombay
Come fly with me, let's fly, let's fly away

Come fly with me, let's float down to Peru
In llama-land there's a one-man band
And he'll toot his flute for you
Come fly with me, let's float down in the blue

Once I get you up there
Where the air is rarefied
We'll just glide starry-eyed
Once I get you up there
I'll be holding you so near
You will hear
Angels cheer, because we're together

Weather-wise, it's such a lovely day
You just say the words and we'll beat those birds
Down to Acapulco Bay
It is perfect for a flying honeymoon, they say
Come fly with me, let's fly, let's fly away

Once I get you up there
Where the air is rarefied
We'll just glide starry-eyed
Once I get you up there
I'll be holding you so near
That you will hear
Angels cheer, because we're together

Weather-wise, it's such a groovy day
You just say those words, we will beat those birds
Down to Acapulco Bay
It is perfect for a flying honeymoon, they say
Come fly with me, let's fly, let’s fly,
Pack up, let's fly away

End Notes:
TBC ... ok, the fun and games are over ... time to find out if they are right about who has Bess ...
Goodbye Blue Sky by Passion4Spike
Author's Notes:
Some surprises await our heroes in London ... will they be good or bad surprises?
**
Music Referenced:
Goodbye Blue Sky, Pink Floyd
http://youtu.be/op65J99cUQE
**
ScreenCaps courtesy of ScreenCap Paradise:
http://www.screencap-paradise.com/?cat=3
**
Special thanks to 'epd4' for betaing this chapter!!
SPECIAL NOTES:

I’m taking some liberties with actual facts regarding the deep level tunnels in London. These tunnels/landings were built in the 1930’s as congestion on the Underground grew and were going to be used for an express train across London from Belsize Park to Clapham South. During WWII, they were used by the populace as bomb shelters. After the war, they never got enough funding to completely link all the deep level stations together and the project was scrapped. These days, many of the deep level stations are being rented to companies to store documents in. In this Universe, the tunnels have been taken over and have been extended by the Council and are connected all the way up to Baker Street Station and the Council uses them for storage of documents, among other things. If you’d like more info on them in real life, try this blog: http://underground-history.co.uk/shelters.php

**

The "Second Great Fire of London" is a name used at the time to refer to one of the most destructive air raids of the London Blitz, over the night of 29/30 December 1940. Between 6pm and 6am the next day, more than 24,000 high explosive bombs and 100,000 incendiary bombs were dropped by the Germans. The largest continuous area of Blitz destruction anywhere in Britain occurred on this night, stretching south from Islington to the very edge of St Paul's Churchyard. The area destroyed was greater than that of the Great Fire of London in 1666. More info on the Second Great Fire of London: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Second_Great_Fire_of_London

**
 
Saturday, April 24th, 2010, 7:30pm, London:
 
Giles scanned the crowd of waiting drivers at the airport for a placard with his name on it, but found nothing. The bloody Council wankers were supposed to send a car. Dear Lord, I’ve been hanging around Spike too long.
 
As Buffy and Spike came up behind him, carrying all the luggage, he told them the bad news. “It appears we’ve been forgotten …” he began as the warriors-turned-Skycaps dropped the bags on the floor.
 
“No … there,” Buffy corrected him, pointing to the other side of the gate, away from where all the professional drivers were waiting for their fares.
 
“Dear Lord…” Giles muttered under his breath, “…Olivia.”
 
Buffy gave him a self-satisfied grin. “I may not be subtle or stealthy, but I do know how to pick up the phone, which apparently, even after playing with it for ten hours on the plane, you haven’t mastered yet…”
 
“Buffy … you really shouldn’t…” Giles began to protest.

 

“You wouldn’t do it – someone had to. She’s here, isn’t she? That must mean something … she could’ve just not come,” Buffy pointed out.
 
“You are completely insufferable,” Giles chastised his Slayer.
 
“Yeah, but in a totally adorable and lovable way,” she countered with a smile.
 
When Giles just stood there, Buffy grabbed his garment bag and hung it over his shoulder and picked up his carry-on and put it in his hand. “So – go already!” she encouraged him, waving her arm towards the waiting woman.
 
“But … what about you two?” Giles questioned.
 
“We’re big kids … I’m sure we can find our way to the hotel. Now go! We’ll see you Monday morning – and not before!” Buffy asserted, wagging a finger at him.
 
“B-but … we should … plan …” Giles objected.
 
“We’ve planned, we had a plan-a-thon … we’re all planned out, we’ve done everything but build a diorama!" Buffy pointed out.

"A diorama! That's a splendid idea..." Giles began brightly.



"Giles!" Buffy interrupted him. "No dioramas! Go see her! She came all the way out here, you should at least let her give you a ride …” Buffy insisted as she pushed him in the back towards the gate and shot Spike a look over her shoulder that dared him to say something lewd in response to that.
 
“Are you quite certain?” Giles questioned as she pushed him towards the woman waiting on the other side of the security gate.
 
“Beyond certain …”
 
**~**
 
“Olivia …” Giles began tentatively when he reached her. “How good of you to come.”
 
“It’s been a long time, Rupert …”

 

“Indeed … quite a long time. How have you been?” Giles continued, shifting uneasily from foot to foot and trying to sound casual.
 
“Well … and you?”
 
“Oh! Well, yes, very well,” Giles stammered. You aren’t fourteen! Say something intelligent! he admonished himself silently.
 
“It’s quite warm for April, isn’t it?” Giles questioned, mentally rolling his eyes at himself for the absurdity of that question.
 
“Yes … quite,” Olivia agreed, thinking that he was really adorable when he was so uncomfortable – she didn’t know if he would be glad to see her or not. It did her heart good to know she could reduce him to talking about the weather.
 
“So … anything new with you, Rupert?” she continued when he didn’t say anything else after a few moments.
 
“New? Uhhhh … oh! Yes, indeed, new! I have a son! Edmond – eight weeks old yesterday,” Giles started, pulling out the phone that Willow had sent with all the photos on it.
 
“A son? But … I thought … Buffy said you were … single,” Olivia stammered, confused.
 
“Single … yes, indeed, actually I am,” Giles agreed. “It’s a quite long story … I was a sperm donor for some very dear friends,” Giles explained. “Well … I guess it wasn’t that long, after all,” Giles admitted, pulling up the photos on the smart phone to show Olivia.
 
“Oh! He’s simply a doll!” she gushed, taking the phone from his hands to admire the photos more closely. “He’s got your strong chin and kind eyes…”

 

Giles removed his glasses and met her eyes. “I’m sorry I didn’t call you … I thought, well, I thought that the reality of demons and monsters and magics was simply too much for you.”
 
Olivia shrugged. “I thought they were too … until your girl called and … I don’t know, I just started thinking again, perhaps I simply must learn to endure the bad in order to have the good … and you are a good man, Rupert. I’ve never met anyone quite like you before or since…”
 
“That’s quite … flattering,” Giles admitted. “I’ve thought of you often…”
 
“Shall we get some dinner, then? Catch up?” Olivia offered.
 
“That would be … splendid.”
 
“How do you like that phone? I’ve been thinking of getting one,” Olivia began as Giles picked up his bag and they began walking towards the exit together.
 
“It’s smashing! Well … the parts I’ve mastered are. Perhaps you could help me with the internet bits … my world wide web speak is a little weak…”

 

**~**
 
Buffy and Spike stood and watched as Giles and Olivia talked. Spike moaning heavily when Giles asked about the weather. “He’s blowin’ it,” Spike told Buffy as he listened – the distance between them and Giles too far for Buffy to hear.
 
“Oh, bloody hell …” Spike moaned when Giles pulled out the phone and started talking about Edmond. “He’s such an enormous git.”
 
“No wait …” Buffy interjected, laying a hand on Spike’s arm when Olivia smiled at the photos. “He may pull it out.”
 
“He’s got no bloody style … no romance,” Spike lamented, shaking his head.
 
When Giles picked up his bag and they started walking away, Buffy clapped her hands and hugged Spike’s neck in victory. “He did it!”
 
Spike laughed at his wife, she was so easily delighted. “I reckon he did.”



**~**
 
Spike and Buffy headed out of the airport and took a black cab to their hotel, which wasn’t far from the Council headquarters, on Baker Street in the heart of London.  Buffy thought it was somewhat ironic that the Sherlock Holmes museum was just down the road, given the sleuth-y nature of their mission here.
 
After getting checked in, calling home, talking to Faith and the kids, and then cleaning up a bit, they headed out to a nearby chippy for a classic meal … fish & chips.
 
After ordering and getting their food, which wasn’t on a plate, but wrapped in white paper, they headed for one of the outside tables to sit and eat. Buffy hesitated, looking around the counter for something.
 
“What ya looking for, luv?” Spike questioned when she didn’t follow behind him right away.
 
“Ketchup.”
 
Spike’s brows shot up. “Ain’t no bloody ketchup. Already got salt & vinegar … that’s all ya need.”

 

Buffy frowned and looked down at the food. “Tartar sauce?” she tried.

 

“Noooooo ….” Spike chastised her. “It’s not bloody McDonald’s; those aren’t French fries, they’re chips, and that’s not pressed fish bits and bobs … this is real food.”
 
Buffy pouted as she followed Spike outside and found a table. “I don’t think I like real food…”
 
**~**

 

After they ate, they walked down Baker Street to the Council’s headquarters building. Late on a Saturday night, the streets around the historical, three-story building were deserted and the windows were dark.
 
“Must be nice,” Buffy mused as they walked around the entire building, surveying the area.
 
“What?” Spike questioned.
 
“To be able to work nine to five and go home to your family at night; to spend Saturdays in the park and Sundays at the beach and not have to worry about what’s going to jump out of the bushes or what’s waiting for you around the next corner,” she explained, running a hand over the small bulge in her tummy and their baby growing within her.
 
Spike stopped and turned her to face him. “I don’t much picture you a desk jockey, Slayer. You’re not a shop-girl or secretary or one of those perky clerks workin’ at the hotel; you’re the bloody Slayer,” Spike reminded her adamantly.

 

Buffy sighed. “There are days when I really wish I wasn’t,” she admitted. “I mean, don’t you sometimes wish we just had normal jobs that we could walk away from at five o’clock and just forget about until the next day? Jobs that we didn’t have to live twenty-four hours a day? That weren’t actually part of our DNA? Jobs that didn’t take us away from our family or put them in danger?”
 
Spike shook his head. “No. Buffy, I had that life and it wasn’t a bad life as lives go. I had ‘normal’ … a wife and 2.5 children and a job I could forget about when I got home, but I wouldn’t go back to that for any amount of blood or money,” Spike assured her. “How did Thoreau put it? ‘The mass of men lead lives of quiet desperation.’ We don’t. We live large … we strike at the root of evil while the wankers in that building just prune the bloody limbs. Do you really want to live in the shadows … be one of the sheep that denies the wolf even exists? We make a difference – you make a difference.”
 
Buffy leaned into him and Spike wrapped his arms around her. “I wouldn’t make a difference without you,” she whispered against his chest.
 
“And I wouldn’t make a difference without you,” Spike breathed against her golden tresses. “I wish I could’ve kept Bess safe. I wish I could say nothing bad will ever happen to any of the bits or to you or me, but bad things happen every day. Not just to Slayers and vampires, but normal people leading normal lives. At least we have the advantage of being able to do something about it … we know the wolf is out there and we know how to fight it.”
 
Buffy nodded against him and sighed and he dropped a kiss on top of her head. “C’mon pet, let’s see what we can find under the bastille.”
 
They dropped down into the storm sewers next to the Council building and began walking, but could find no evidence of anything under the building … it just looked like normal sewers … just like in any other old city in the world.
 
About halfway around the perimeter of the building, the shallow stream of water and muck that they had been trudging through dried up.  After walking a few feet in the nearly dry section of the sewer, Buffy stopped and shone her flashlight back behind them. “Wait,” she called to Spike, who had kept walking.
 
“What is it?”

 

“Something’s weird here … why is it suddenly dry?” she questioned moving back to where the water and muck ended. She crouched down and looked more closely at the bottom of the tunnel. “The water’s running out these cracks in the floor,” she observed aloud. “What would be under the sewers that would let that much water run out?” Buffy questioned, looking up at Spike.
 
Spike shrugged. “One way to find out…” he muttered as he began stomping down on the old bricks at their feet. After a few minutes of kicking and stomping on the floor of the tunnel, they had a hole opened up large enough for them to fit through. Spike lay on his stomach and leaned his torso down through the hole and looked around … it was an old, abandoned spiral staircase leading down even further under the streets of the city.
 
Spike and Buffy dropped down onto the wet stairs and began slowly making their way deeper underground. The stairs seemed to go on forever, at least four stories, and finally opened up into another tunnel. Except for the small river of water that followed the staircase down from the sewers above, this tunnel was dry and had lights along the ceiling … definitely not a sewer tunnel.


 
“What is this?” Buffy questioned, shining her flash light in the darker corners that weren’t well lit.
 

 Her light stopped on a faded sign that hung on a door. “Ministry of Public Building and Works,” she read aloud. “These doors must not be left open. Danger – keep clear.”

 

The pair walked further down the tunnel and found old public restrooms marked “Men” and “Women”, then further down they found a first aid station and what looked like an old canteen or cafeteria.
 
“Bomb shelter,” Spike surmised after looking around a few minutes.
 
“Wow …seriously?” Buffy questioned, as they walked further down the long tunnel. “They must’ve been expecting some heavy artillery to be this deep.”
 
“Expected and received, pet. During World War II, the Luftwaffe bombed London pretty regular. During the Blitz, it was bombed every night for weeks on end with no let-up …” Spike enlightened her as they walked.
 
“Wow …” was all Buffy could say, shaking her head. “That must’ve been horrible … being totally helpless as bombs fell from the sky. Probably packed in here like sardines … families … kids…” Buffy mused quietly, thinking of how it must’ve felt for the Londoners to be faced with a feeling of being completely helpless to keep their families safe from harm.



“You still want that normal life … to be helpless against the barrage?” Spike questioned, as if reading her mind.
 
Buffy sighed. “No. I don’t really do ‘helpless’ very well,” she admitted as they kept walking.
 
“‘Never give in — never, never, never, never, in nothing great or small, large or petty, never give in except to convictions of honour and good sense,’” Spike quoted Churchill. “That’s all we can do, luv, keeping fightin’ … never give in.”
 
Buffy nodded. The only thing she had ever given in to was hopelessness … the prospect of life without Spike, without her family, was the thing that could bring her to her knees. She’d been willing to sacrifice herself for them before, more than once, but she didn’t consider that giving in or giving up – that was protecting the ones she loved. The only enemy that had ever truly defeated her was the emptiness in her soul that she felt when she’d lost him and their family. That was her kryptonite … her Achilles heel – she was, in fact, her own worst enemy in that regard, and she really had no idea how to combat that. She could fight and kill demons and dust vampires … she could even kill a human if there was no other recourse, but she had no defense against the emptiness she felt inside when faced with an eternity without Spike, without her family.
 
“Hello? Earth to Slayer… ya with me?” Spike called, waving a hand in front of her face and pulling her from her thoughts.
 
Buffy smiled and nodded. “Yeah … right here,” she answered, coming back to the moment.
 
“You were gone for a minute there … so, do we try this side tunnel, then?” Spike questioned again.
 
Buffy shined her light down a smaller tunnel leading off to the left of the main one and shrugged. “Sure, why not?”
 
About fifty feet down the tunnel, another tunnel intercepted it, this one was filled floor to ceiling with cardboard boxes. Spike pulled one of the boxes off the top and dropped it on the floor before pulling the lid off.  They both bent over to see what was in the box: books … leather-bound, ancient tomes – the first one had ‘Vampyr’ emblazoned in gold leaf on the spine.

 

Spike and Buffy’s eyes met. “Watchers,” they both announced at once, standing back up. They looked down the tunnel, which seemed to go on forever, stacked with boxes upon boxes on each side of a narrow walkway.
 
“There must be a way in from down here…” Buffy voiced the same thing Spike was thinking as they both started walking quickly through the forest of musty cardboard.
 
About a hundred yards down, the tunnel opened up into a wider section, like a round room or chamber, which was free of boxes. On their left was a set of doors … doors they had both seen before … in Billy’s dream.

 

“Oh my God! This is it!” Buffy exclaimed, shining the light over the heavy, metal doors.
 
They both walked up to the doors quickly and pulled on the handles, but they didn’t budge. Buffy slid one of the peephole covers to the side and looked in, but it was completely black, she couldn’t see anything.
 
“You look …” Buffy suggested, backing up to let Spike up to the peephole.
 
Spike bit down on his lip as he looked through the hole. Behind the door was the antechamber where he had fought with Bess … the room in Billy’s dream, seemingly carved out of solid stone. “This is it …” he agreed. “We have ta get this bloody door open.
 
“Stay here, I’ll be right back,” he told Buffy as he started running back towards the main tunnel.
 
“Where are you going?”
 
“Get somethin’ to pry with…”
 
While Spike was gone, Buffy pulled and pushed and tried to move the heavy handles and bolts on the doors, but to no avail. It seemed like Spike was gone for hours, but certainly not more than twenty minutes. When he got back, he had a pick and some chisels, a sledge hammer and some heavy metal pipes and bars.
 
“Where did you get this stuff?” Buffy questioned, looking over his bounty.
 
“Never mind that… you don’t wanna know,” Spike advised her. “Here, you work on the bottom, I’ll work the top. The stone is weaker than the metal … chisel out around the hinges then we’ll pry it open.”
 
Buffy thought for sure someone would show up to stop them from their work at any moment. They were making enough noise to wake the dead … literally, but no one ever showed up. They finally got the hinges free from their moorings, then used the steel bars to pry the door open from the hinge side, getting it open just far enough for them to shimmy through.
 
Once inside the antechamber, they reached back out and pulled the tools in with them and started on the door that they knew led to the cells … and to Bess. They worked feverishly, gaining confidence that no guards were on duty, or if they were, they were sleeping somewhere out of earshot, as Faith and Wes had told them was apt to be the case. They finally got the second set of doors open, just as they had the first, by chiseling out the stone and freeing the hinges. Before prying the door open, Spike stopped and took Buffy by the upper arms, making her focus on him.

 

“When we go in, first priority is gettin’ Bess out. Don’t worry about the others … we can come back later and deal with them – let’s get Bess, get her out and safe, then worry with what else needs to be done later, yeah?” he admonished her.
 
Buffy nodded her agreement, her heart racing in her chest as her pulse thundered in her ears. This was it … they were almost there.
 
Spike pried the door open just enough for them to get through, bringing the long, heavy pry bar with him to use on the bars of their daughter’s cell. When the prisoners in the cellblock saw the warriors, they began jeering and yelling, which Buffy thought was strange because in the dream they had all cowered in the darkest corners of their cells. Then she realized, she’d had a torch in the dream, not a flashlight; fire and vampires were un-mixy. Buffy turned and scanned the wall with her light until she found an unlit torch in a sconce on the wall.
 
“Please tell me you have your lighter,” she begged Spike as she reached for the torch.
 
Despite rarely smoking anymore, Spike always kept his lighter in his pocket, just in case the urge for a smoke got overwhelming …plus, he’d had it for years, he just didn’t feel right without it, kind of off-balance. Spike lit the torch as Buffy held it and suddenly all the vamps quieted down and shied away from them as they walked down the hallway and looked for Bess.

 

Buffy pointed out the cell that she’d been in in the dream, but that cell was empty, the door unlocked and standing open. “Oh God … you don’t think they …” she began, looking wide-eyed at Spike.
 
Spike’s look of frustration and anger and guilt stopped her from finishing her thought. “They probably just moved her…” she suggested, going back to the beginning of the hallway and looking closely in all the cells for the matted blonde hair of their daughter.
 
They worked their way slowly down the corridor, checking for her in the cells on each side, but Bess wasn’t in any of them. At the end of the long hallway, they came to two doors – a white one on the right and a blue one on the left, just as Spike had seen in Billy’s dream. Spike opened the blue door first, flinging it open and looking inside warily … but there was no one in there. Buffy lifted the torch and her flashlight and looked inside.

 

“My God…” she muttered involuntarily as shadowy outlines of innumerable tools of torture were illuminated. She had no idea what some of the things even were … but some were easily recognizable: whips, chains, shackles, knives of every description, machetes, sickles, swords, branding irons, chain saws, pitchforks, stakes, a car battery with jumper cables, a cattle prod, a blow torch … even a guillotine.
 
Spike recognized more things than Buffy … medieval torture devices like a head crusher and a knee splitter, a Judas chair, a pear of anguish, a rack … it looked like everyone from Spanish Inquisition to the KGB to the Khmer Rouge had had fire sales, and the Council had made them all deals they couldn’t refuse.
 
Spike pushed Buffy back out of the door and pulled it closed, his only consolation was the knowledge that Bess had never been in that room. They were down to the last room … the white room, as Bess had called it; the room where her captors took her, and other prisoners, to watch them copulate … and get their own rocks off.
 
Spike pointed at the last door and Buffy nodded, moving to one side of the door as Spike moved to the other. When they were set, Spike reached over and turned the handle and pushed the door open slowly. All the lights were off except one … shining on Bess, who was strapped down to one of the tables in the center of the room.
 
“Bess!” Buffy exclaimed in utter relief, rushing in towards their daughter without thinking. Her mind had been conjuring all sorts of scenarios as they searched the dark dungeon for their daughter … none of which were good.
 
Suddenly Spike’s gut lurched … something was wrong. “NO! TRAP!” he screamed as he reached out and tried to catch his wife, but it was too late, she was out of reach. Buffy was hit with four tranquilizer darts before she could get halfway to Bess, and she collapsed onto the sterile floor in an unconscious heap, dropping the torch and flashlight she’d been carrying.

 

Spike morphed into the demon and roared in anger as he rushed in behind her, screaming her name. As the darts embedded in his flesh, he yanked them out, the wounds healing almost as quickly as the darts were removed, but the drugs were being injected into his system with each shot. He managed to make it to where Buffy collapsed on the floor and picked her up … but the floor was starting to tilt and the walls were spinning. Another dart hit him in the middle of his back and he couldn’t reach it to pull it out. He stumbled back towards the door with Buffy in his arms … blinking his eyes to try and see more clearly … the door seemed to be moving, then there were two of them … then three … then … it was gone. He shook his head, trying to clear his vision as he moved blindly in the direction he knew the door was.

 

Spike fell to his knees and yelled out in pain as another dart embedded in his the back of his neck, in his spine. As he pushed himself back to his feet, yet another dart hit its mark in the side of his neck, in his jugular, and he felt something hard slam against the back of his head. He stumbled forward, unable to keep his balance, and Buffy fell from his arms as everything went black.
 
The last thing Spike heard before completely losing consciousness was Bess screaming, “NOOOOO!!” as that small glimmer of hope she had allowed into the light exploded into dust. Just as surely as the Second Great Fire of London reduced the heart of the city to ashes, leaving nothing but smoldering cinders and crushed lives in its wake, Bess felt her heart crumble and the dream of freedom that she’d foolishly dared to dream go up in wisps of acrid smoke which blackened the promised blue sky that waited outside the dungeon walls.
 
**~**
 
{{Click here to hear "Goodbye Blue Sky” by Pink Floyd on YouTube  }}


"Look mummy, there's an aeroplane up in the sky"

Oooooooo ooo ooo ooo ooooh(x 3)
Did-did-did-did-you see the frightened ones?
Did-did-did-did-you hear the falling bombs?
Did-did-did-did-you ever wonder why we had to run for shelter
When the promise of a brave new world
Unfurled beneath a clear blue sky?

Oooooooo ooo ooo ooo ooooh (x 2)
Did-did-did-did-you see the frightened ones?
Did-did-did-did-you hear the falling bombs?
The flames are all long gone, but the pain lingers on.

Goodbye, blue sky
Goodbye, blue sky.
Goodbye.
Goodbye.
Goodbye.


"The 11:15 from Newcastle is now approaching"
"The 11:18 arrival...."

End Notes:
TBC ... Now what!? Not only is Bess a prisioner, so are Buffy and Spike ... how will they get themselves out of this predicament? How did the Council know to set a trap? Did Wes blab? And what does the Council want with them, anyway? More to come! You know my evil blue-eyed muse loves to hear from you! {{cue the evil laugh track ... muhahahahahaha }}
We Gotta Get Outta This Place by Passion4Spike
Author's Notes:
Spike and Buffy have been shot with tranq darts … what do Bess’ captors want with them? Can they get out of this place?
**
Music:
We Gotta Get Outta This Place, The Animals
http://youtu.be/9Fn2rOHVUzY
**
ScreenCaps courtesy of ScreenCap Paradise:
http://www.screencap-paradise.com/?cat=3
**
Special thanks to 'epd4' for betaing this chapter!!

(earlier that day) Saturday, April 24th, 2010, 5:30pm, Council Headquarters, London:
(about eight hours before Spike and Buffy find the dungeon)
 

Bess moved to the back of her cell and crouched down as the men came down the corridor with their torches, crosses, and chains, just as she’d done a million times before, just as they had trained her to do lest she face the horrors of the blue room. Three men stood guard as one unlocked her cell door, then they shackled her wrists and ankles and led her down the long hallway to the white room. She went without struggle or protest … it really was the only diversion from the boredom in this place.
 
She was surprised to find the room empty … no other vamp was brought with her into the room. The men sat her down on one of the tables and backed up, forming a protective circle around her, just as the door opened again and another man stepped in. She’d never seen the new man before … he wasn’t a vampire … he looked … he looked like her Watcher – but that would be impossible, certainly Harold Travers was long dead.
 
“Do you know me, young lady?” the man asked as he stepped closer to her, but not so close that the men surrounding her couldn’t intervene if she attacked.
 
Bess shook her head.
 
“My name is Quentin Travers … I believe you knew my great, great grandfather, Harold,” the man informed her.
 
Bess’ brows knit and she nodded her head. Was this it? Was this the end of the road for her? The great, great grandson of her Watcher had come to exact revenge on her for letting him down, for her failure as a Slayer. That seemed somehow ironic … her own father had just given her some hope that this nightmare would end … the boy had assured her that the good vampire always kept his promises, and now it would be too late.
 
The man opened a manila folder and began leafing through the documents and reading aloud. “Elizabeth Anne Weatherford from Philadelphia, Pennsylvania,” he began. “Born in London … Elizabeth Anne Weckerly,” he read further, looking up from the paper and meeting her eyes.
 
“Your parents think they’re quite clever, I’d imagine,” he continued, his voice scornful. “Asking for a meeting to discuss issues they’re having with the Key. Don’t they think I read those reports from the field? There are no issues to discuss regarding their eldest daughter … Did they think I wouldn’t be suspicious? Did they think they could fool me?”
 
Bess watched the man as he got angrier and angrier, trying to figure out what he was talking about. Was her father coming for her? Was that was this was about?
 
“They weren’t very bright … naming you after your mother. It made the search for the real purpose of their trip almost too easy,” he continued.
 
“M-my mother’s name was Wanda…” Bess pointed out.

 

Travers shook his head. “You, my dear, are an enigma; a freak of nature and magicks … you seem to have three mothers. Your adopted mother, Wanda; your birth mother, Cecily; and the woman whose legacy you harbor … whose blood runs through your veins … or did – Elizabeth Anne Summers … Buffy.”
 
Bess shook her head, her brows furrowed as she tried to follow what he was saying. Buffy … Buffy … she’d heard that name before. Then she remembered, the strange woman posing as a nursemaid from America … she’d stayed less than a day. The woman had shared her candy-cane sweetbreads with her and Anne. Buffy …
 
“No… no that’s wrong,” Bess told him. “Buffy was … mother said she was nothing more than a harlot, a charlatan looking for a free meal and a warm bed. I don’t know who does your research for you, but you should look into recruiting someone new…”
 
Travers smiled at her ruefully. “I can assure you, my dear – DNA does not lie … and you have her smart mouth. You are the product of an unseemly liaison between a rogue Slayer and a dirty beast of a demon named William the Bloody … William Weckerly … Spike. And now, my dear, you are what we call … bait.
 
“Knowing them, we should be in the midst of a touching family reunion very soon …” Travers assured her ruefully.
  
The next morning: Sunday, April 25th, 2010, 8:30am, London:
 
Buffy moaned in pain, wishing to God that whoever was shaking her would just stop already.
 
“Wake up, my dear … You’ve slept quite long enough.”
 
Buffy opened her eyes slowly; a bright light stabbed between her lids straight to her brain and she clinched them tightly closed again. “What’s going on?” she moaned, trying to reach her head with her hands, but her hands were shackled – then she remembered the dungeon and the tranq darts and Spike screaming that it was a trap.
 
She opened her lids again just slightly, squinting and turning her head away from the blinding light, as she tried to focus on who was talking.
 
“You have become much too predictable, my dear, Buffy,” Quentin advised her as he leaned forward and slapped at her cheeks lightly to wake her up.
 
Buffy growled and lurched at him, but she was shackled hand and foot to an immovable chair.
 
“There now … I believe we have her attention …” Quentin droned, backing up a step.
 
“You better let me go or you won’t live to regret this, Quentin,” Buffy raged at him, finally fully aware of her surroundings. She was in the dungeon, in one of the cells, the Council Head stood in front of her. There were other men she didn’t recognize in the cell, two on either side of her. Buffy strained against the shackles and chains, but they weren’t giving.

 

“You, my dear, are in no position to make demands,” Quentin advised her with a self-satisfied smile.

 
“What do you want?” Buffy spat at him, still struggling against her restraints.
 
“You. Well … until you’ve fulfilled your destiny, anyway,” he told her, looking down at her abdomen. “In a few months the daughter you are carrying will fulfill the Santo Veritas Prophecy … and she will be ours. Then it will simply be a matter of time before your own pre-ordained purpose will be realized.”
 
“You’ll never get my baby … you can kill me … you can kill Spike, but you can’t kill all our friends – they’ll never let you get away with it!” Buffy threatened, still struggling to get free.
 
“Your friends will think you dead … you and your unborn child and your demon lover, I’ll see to that. A very tragic and most unfortunate accident; there will be no search for you, there will be no rescue,” he informed her.
 
“Our friends will never believe that … not without seeing it themselves!” Buffy hissed at him.
 
“Indeed … they will see it themselves … your jewelry … and even DNA to confirm the identity of the body burned beyond recognition. Trust me, they will believe you quite dead,” Travers assured her calmly, holding up Buffy’s rings and necklace for her to see.

 

Buffy narrowed her eyes at him. Fucking son-of-bitch took her jewelry! Then she finally got her mind to focus past the fact that he’d taken all the jewelry that Spike had ever given her … “What DNA?” Buffy growled back at him.
 
Quentin looked at one of the men standing next to Buffy and nodded slightly. At the signal, the man pulled back and slammed a tire iron against Buffy's jaw with all this strength. Buffy screamed out in pain as her head rocked and blood filled her mouth. Buffy’s head spun and stars danced in front of her eyes as two of the other men moved up and held her mouth open with a metal speculum. The first man reached into her mouth with a pair of pliers and pulled one of the loosened molars from her jaw … causing her to scream out in pain again when the root of the tooth was ripped out of her flesh and away from the bone.

 

“There now, that wasn’t so bad, was it?” Travers asked dryly as he took the bloody tooth and wrapped it in a handkerchief. Buffy lifted her head and scowled at him as blood poured from her mouth and pain shot from her jaw all the way down her arm and up into her sinuses. Buffy spit blood and saliva as far as she could, covering Travers' face with a spray of red liquid.
 
“Charming…” Travers intoned, nodding to the man with the tire iron again.
 
The man swung the iron rod in a wide arc, bringing the metal shaft down with all his strength across the front of her knees. Buffy screamed out and her head dropped down to her chest as excruciating pain shot up and down her legs … she was sure her kneecaps were broken.

 

“You might as well relax, my dear … you can’t escape those shackles, you can’t escape this dungeon … your fate is sealed,” Travers informed her as he calmly wiped the blood off with a handkerchief. “Your impulsive recklessness has been your downfall, as I always knew it would.
 
“Please do eat … I’d hate to force feed you, but I can assure you that I can and will,” Travers instructed calmly, waving an arm at a tray of food sitting on a cot near the wall.
 
“I wish you’d try, Scooter…” Buffy muttered under her breath and braced for another blow, but none came.
 
Travers chuckled coldly as he dropped her tooth and jewelry in his pocket, then turned and headed down the long corridor and the other men exited her cell and locked the door. When they were certain the cell was secure, one of the men pulled a remote control device from his pocket and pressed a button and the shackles around her wrists and legs fell open. Buffy lunged like a caged lion at the men on the other side of the bars, but couldn’t reach them as they stepped back. Pain shot up from her knees when she moved and she collapsed onto the dirt floor, unable to stand the agony more than a few seconds.
 
“You’ll all die! You keep following him and you’ll all die!” she threatened, but they just snorted soft laughs and turned to follow their boss out of the dark, dank dungeon.
 
Buffy growled in anger as she sat with her back against the cell door and looked around at her accommodations. There was the immobile chair she’d been shackled to and a cot, in one corner there was a chamber pot sitting on the floor. On the cot was the tray of food Travers wanted her to eat … fresh fruits, a couple of small boxes of cereal and a carafe of milk. Buffy dragged herself on her butt over to the cot and took the tray and flung it, along with all the food, at the bars of the cell. The metal tray hit with a loud clatter, sending the food scattering out into the corridor.
 
 

Spike! Spike answer me! she called through their bond, but got no response. She knew he wasn’t dusted … she could feel it in her soul. She continued calling out to him until finally she got a groggy response from her husband.

Buffy …
 
Spike! Where are you? Are you ok?
 
Dungeon … yeah, just … I think drugged…
he managed to reply before falling silent again.
 
Buffy pulled herself up onto the cot and sat with her back against the cold, damp wall and examined her kneecaps, still spitting blood out of her mouth, her tongue involuntarily going to the blank spot in her jaw where the tooth had been. She sighed heavily and leaned back against the hard wall … her kneecaps didn’t appear to be broken, just bloodied and bruised badly. She closed her eyes, wrapping her arms around the small bulge in her abdomen and willed herself not to cry. Don’t give the bastards the satisfaction! she admonished herself.
 
She needed to think … she needed to figure a way out of this. She didn’t know how long she’d been unconscious. If everything had gone well with Olivia, Giles wouldn’t even try to contact them until Monday morning.  The only ones that might miss them before that would be the kids and Faith when they didn’t call in, but still – how would anyone even know where to begin looking for them? And if the London police called and said there had been a fiery crash and provided them with a burnt body with her jewelry on it … a couple of well-placed bribes or called-in favors showing a DNA match from that one tooth to hers … But how would they explain Spike’s disappearance? They would probably say he dusted … did they not know about the Gem? Apparently not. Buffy rested her head in her hands and tried to breathe … that would be the tip-off … Giles, Faith, Willow, Tara … they’d all know the story was bogus … they’d know to look for them.
 
Buffy heard men working down the hallway later that day, no doubt fixing the doors that she and Spike had worked so hard to open. She tried to relax so she could think and she kept trying to contact Spike, but never got anything back from him. She tried to use her legs … she didn’t want them to get so stiff that she couldn’t walk at all … she may need to walk, or run or kick the shit out of someone. Her knees had already turned purple and were swollen about three sizes larger than normal – she really needed ice and ibuprofen … but she had neither. Buffy walked slowly, gingerly across the small cell then back to the cot and collapsed back down. She massaged the pain and cramps from her thighs and calves and got up and did it again … over and over, trying to keep loose, just in case …
 
Buffy was about to get back up when she heard someone coming down the hall – she had no idea how long it had been, it seemed like hours and hours … it may have only been a couple, but it seemed like several. She took a deep breath and stayed seated on the cot; she tried to look unworried and unhurt as the footsteps neared.
 
“You didn’t eat your breakfast,” Quentin observed as he kicked an apple down the corridor.
 
“Wasn’t hungry,” Buffy sneered at him.
 
“Perhaps this will whet your appetite ...” Travers intoned dryly, then turned to one of the men behind him and ordered, “Get the girl…”
 
Buffy watched as the four men went further down the hallway then soon came back dragging Bess, shackled at the hands and feet. They stopped in front of Buffy’s cell and, as Buffy watched in shock, the 'tire iron man' from earlier lifted the girl’s dress and pressed a cattle prod against her upper thigh. Bess screamed out in pain, involuntarily morphing into the demon as her whole body shook violently from the jolt.

 

“STOP! STOP IT!” Buffy screamed at them, jumping up from her seat and reaching through the bars of her cell to try and stop them.
 
Quentin waved his hand at the man and he pulled the cattle prod away from Bess’ flesh, leaving a large scorch mark on her creamy, white skin. The men dropped Bess and she collapsed onto the floor, writhing in pain and crying … she’d been good, she’d done as she was told, why were they doing this to her?
 
“Now … you can eat or I can have our Mr. Weatherby continue … it’s really up to you, Miss Summers,” Quentin informed her, taking a tray of food from one of the other men’s hands and holding it up to the bars of Buffy’s cell.

 

When Buffy hesitated, Quentin looked at Weatherby and nodded and the hired gun moved Bess’ dress to the side again and pressed the electrified prod against her bare buttocks and Bess began to scream again and convulse in pain.
 
“NO! I’m eating … I’m eating!” Buffy screamed, reaching through the bars and picking up half a sandwich and stuffing it into her mouth as quickly as she could.

 

Quentin waved a hand at Weatherby and he pulled the prod away, leaving another nasty burn on Bess’ flesh. “Now then, I believe we understand each other. You will behave … you will eat and drink everything offered to you or Mr. Weatherby will be happy to demonstrate more of his instruments of  persuasion for you,” Quentin told her smugly as Buffy continued to stuff food into her mouth angrily.
 
Buffy washed down the sandwich with a glass of milk as she watched them drag Bess away. She heard a cell door open and the shackles being removed from the girl’s hands and wrists, then the door slammed closed again. When all the food and drink was gone from the tray, Quentin handed it back to one of the other men that was with him and straightened his vest. “And to think I was afraid you couldn’t be trained… Mr. Giles apparently didn’t use the proper techniques,” the Council Head muttered as he turned and all the men headed back down the hallway and out of the dungeon.
 
When they had gone, Buffy leaned on the bars, trying to see where they’d taken Bess, but she couldn’t see very far down the hallway. “Bess?” she called. “I’m sorry … I’m so sorry …”
 
“Why? Why did they do that? I did as they said… I never ask questions and try not to sass…” her daughter asked, the tears and pain still evident in her shaky voice.
 
“It’s my fault … I’m so sorry,” Buffy repeated.
 
“Who are you?” Bess questioned softly.
 
“Buffy … I’m Buffy … and I’m so sorry.”
 
Bess lay on the cold, wet, dirt floor of her cell and curled into a ball. Buffy … the name echoed in her mind. The woman whose blood runs in your veins … whose legacy you harbor…
 
“What are you?” Bess whispered, almost too low for Buffy to hear.
 
“I’m a Slayer,” Buffy answered, still trying to see down the hallway. “I … Bess, I know Wanda and I know what happened to you and … I know this is hard to believe but …I’m your mother and I love you. We came to get you out … we’re not doing very well on that point just now,” Buffy admitted, rolling her eyes.
 
“Do you know the good vampire? Is he with you?” Bess questioned.
 
“The good vampire? You mean Spike? Yes … well, no … he was, but I don’t know where he is now,” Buffy stammered. “We came together to get you ... he’s … he’s my husband, Bess.”
 
“Oh, I didn’t … I didn’t know. He promised he’d get me out…” Bess whispered.
 
Buffy smiled sadly and sighed. “There’s nothing to worry about then, he always keeps his promises…”
 
**~**
 
When Quentin and his bodyguards came with her supper, Buffy began to eat without hesitation, but she ate slowly … talking with the Council Head between bites, trying to get more information.
 
“So,” Buffy began as she swallowed a mouthful of mashed potatoes. “I guess Wes told you the real reason we were coming…” she pondered aloud.
 
Quentin considered her a moment then sniffed indignantly. “Mr. Wyndam-Pryce will be relieved of his duties as a Watcher shortly,” he informed her. “He’s a disgrace to the Council and a disgrace to his family name. Miss Lehane will be assigned a new Watcher and transferred back to Cleveland thereafter.”

 

“If Wes didn’t tell you, how did you know we’d be looking for Bess?” Buffy questioned, taking a bite of sausage from the plate and grimacing as she bit down on the wrong side of her jaw.
 
“Do you really think me that big a fool, Miss Summers?” Travers questioned.
 
Buffy shrugged. “You’ve never shown me anything before now that would make me think otherwise.”
 
“Indeed, well, it seems you’ve learned your lesson too late, my dear. Play with fire enough and you will get burned.”
 
Buffy snorted softly and rolled her eyes. She’d love to get him alone for just one minute. “Where’s Spike?” Buffy asked, changing the subject.
 
“Near.”
 
“I’d like to see him.”
 
“I believe we’d already established that you are in no position to make demands,” Quentin reminded her.

 

“What are you going to do with him?” Buffy pressed further, taking smaller and smaller bites of her meal.
 
“He’ll be afforded the same privileges as our other guests … for a while,” Travers assured her … which wasn’t really assuring at all.
 
“What exactly are you doing with all these vamps? Still trying to figure out the wood, fire, sunlight, and beheading quartet of destruction? It’s not really that complicated,” Buffy pointed out. "Even Slayers pick it up, eventually."
 
Quentin smiled but was clearly not amused. “If you must know, we are working on creating a new breed of Slayer … one with more demonic power, enhanced vision and hearing, increased speed and agility … a Super Slayer, if you will.”
 
Buffy thought back to what Spike had told her about what happened in the white room as she picked at the food on the tray. “So you’re trying to breed vamps with … turned Slayers? Is that what the spells are for? Trying to make the eggs and seed alive?”
 
Quentin looked slightly surprised by her guess and her mention of breeding and spells, but recovered quickly. “Indeed … we’re quite close, actually. And with your prophesied daughter, we shall be unstoppable.”
 
“About that prophecy … what did you call it? Veri … something … What’s up with that?” Buffy questioned.
 
“I believe your dinner is getting cold,” Quentin gave her a saccharine smile. “You should eat.”
 
Buffy sighed … apparently he was done playing her game of Twenty Questions. She finished the rest of the sausage and potatoes and drank the milk … she was already getting tired of milk … she’d kill for a Tab right about now.
 
“Can I eat the apple later? I’m kinda full and my jaw hurts…” Buffy asked, picking up the granny smith apple from the tray.
 
Quentin nodded his agreement and handed the tray back to one of his lackeys. “Good night, Miss Summers … pleasant dreams.”
 
**~**
 

Buffy … Spike moaned to her through their bond several hours later, waking her from a restless, painful sleep.
 
Spike! Are you ok? Are you hurt? Where are you?
 
Spike rubbed at his head and eyes, trying to stop the throbbing and get his eyes to focus … everything seemed blurry and was still swaying slightly as he tried to stand up. He reached out and grabbed onto the bars of his cell to steady himself as he waited for the spinning in his head to stop ... the throbbing, however, wasn't going away.
 
In the dungeon, I reckon … can’t see much … other cells across the way, he sent back after a few moments. Where are you? Are you alright? Did you get out?
 
Buffy snorted softly. No … I’m in the dungeon too. Spike, they want the baby … it’s some kind of prophecy … Santo Veritas, have you ever heard of it?
 
Spike shook his head as he thought, then remembered that she couldn’t actually see him. No … Veritas … Veritas means truth … she was a goddess of truth in Roman mythology.
 
Buffy went on to tell him everything that had happened and what she’d learned from Quentin about Wes and Faith, and what they were trying to do with the vamps and turned Slayers they had as prisoners.
 
Sick bastards … Spike raged back when she was done. They’ve got a buggering army of Slayers, but can’t be happy with that, can they? No … gotta have a bloody Super Slayer and our littlest bit… what the bloody hell for?

 

Buffy sighed, she wished she knew the answer to that.
 
Spike … how are we gonna get out of here? I can’t budge these damn bars at all …
 
I’m workin’ on that, pet, Spike sent back, trying to sound assuring. In fact, he had no idea how they’d get out of here, and if all their friends thought they were dead and didn’t even look for them, as Quentin had told Buffy … well, that didn’t really help his confidence any either. He wasn’t sure that the Council didn’t know about the Gem, after all, Wes and Faith knew about it. Even if it wasn't Wes that had tipped them off about Bess, there's no guarantee that the Gem hadn't been mentioned at some point over the last years. Travers may have some other story concocted to explain Spike’s demise …
 
Work faster … We gotta get outta this place. I don’t think I can go another day without caffeine or chocolate …
 
Spike snorted a soft laugh and rolled his eyes. Leave it to Buffy to make him smile while locked in a dungeon with no hope of escape.

**~**

{{Click here to hear "We Gotta Get Outta This Place” by The Animals on YouTube  }}
 

In this dirty old part of the city
Where the sun refused to shine
People tell me there ain't no use in tryin'

Now my girl you're so young and pretty
And one thing I know is true
You'll be dead before your time is due, I know

Watch my daddy in bed a-dyin'
Watched his hair been turnin' grey
He's been workin' and slavin' his life away
Oh yes I know it

He's been workin' so hard, yeah
I've been workin' too, baby, yeah
Every night and day, yeah

We gotta get out of this place
If it's the last thing we ever do
We gotta get out of this place
Cause girl, there's a better life for me and you

Now my girl you're so young and pretty
And one thing I know is true, yeah
You'll be dead before your time is due, I know it

Watch my daddy in bed a-dyin'
Watched his hair been turnin' grey, yeah
He's been workin' and slavin' his life away
I know he's been workin' so hard

I've been workin' too, baby, yeah
Every day baby, yeah
Wow, yeah...

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
Somewhere baby, somehow I know it

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
End Notes:
TBC ... Will Travers succeed in convincing all of Buffy and Spike's friends that they're gone? How are they gonna get outta this place? And what about this prophecy? Lots more to come ...
White Room by Passion4Spike
Author's Notes:
Spike spends time in the white room … will he make it out?
**
Warnings for violence and bloodshed ...
**
Music Referenced:
White Room, Cream
 http://youtu.be/pkae0-TgrRU
**
ScreenCaps courtesy of ScreenCap Paradise:
http://www.screencap-paradise.com/?cat=3
**
Special thanks to 'epd4' for betaing this chapter!! Of course, I fiddled with it after she beta'd it, any errors are 100% my fault!
(Next morning), Monday, April 26th, 2010, 8:30am, London:
 
Spike moaned and rolled up to a sitting position on the cold, damp floor when someone started clanging sharply on the bars of his cell early the next morning.
 
“Stop that bloody racket!” Spike exclaimed, holding his still aching head. He was sure they’d given him something more than just the drugs in the tranquilizer darts the previous day. He didn’t know what it was, but he’d been unconscious or in a fog for hours … he wasn’t sure how many; he'd never had a hangover this bad in over a century … even after he ate that flower child at Woodstock…
 
“It’s your lucky day, buddy boy – assume the position,” the man at the gate ordered.
 
Spike stood up slowly and looked at the men in the hallway … they had crosses, stakes, a brightly burning torch, and shackles … was that supposed to strike the fear of God in him? “Sod off!” Spike snapped, putting his hands on his hips and standing his ground.
 
The man that had been banging on his cage shrugged. “Suit yourself … white room or blue room … doesn’t make any bloody difference to me,” he told Spike nonchalantly. The man turned to one of the other guards. “Tell Weatherby we’ve got one for him to play with…”
 
“Hold on a bloody minute now,” Spike cajoled, holding his hands up to get them to stop. “What’s this all about?” he asked, as if he didn’t know.
 
The man that was obviously in charge of the escort to and from the rooms looked down at a clipboard in his hands, then back up at Spike. “Ok … you’re new, so I’ll cut you some slack – this time. Turn around, get down on your knees against the back wall, cross your ankles, and put your hands on your head, interlacing your fingers. Keep your mouth closed and your demon down – don’t try any smart stuff and no one will get hurt … in fact, if you’re a good boy, you’ll get a nice shag out of it. No harm, no foul.”

 

“A nice shag, eh?” Spike questioned, cocking a brow. “Don’t fancy you wankers much; prefer blondes,” he quipped with a smirk as a small glimmer of hope that they'd be stupid enough to let Buffy out of her cell to join him. Oh how he would love it if they brought her into the corridor with him so the ass kicking could commence...
 
“Don’t nobody much care what you prefer,” the head man told Spike. “There’s a piece a’ poon-tang waiting – you want it or not?”
 
Spike took a breath, turned around and assumed the position against the back wall and a new plan formed in his mind.  There were only four of them … he could take them easily, get their keys, find Buffy and Bess and get out. Come back with reinforcements … blow the whole bloody place up with the wankers in it. Spike tensed as he heard the key turn in the lock, getting ready to spring on the men … about then he heard someone else call from down the hall, “What the fuck’s the bloody problem, Mac? Need a tranq for ‘im?”
 
“Naaaa, Smitty … new boy, just ‘aving to ‘splain the rules. Hold your position; we’ll be out in a sec,” the man that had been speaking to Spike called back.
 
Spike blew out a deep breath and closed his eyes, his chin dropping to his chest in resignation… he could take these wankers, but wasn’t so sure about his chances against another sniper with a tranq gun; he’d barely gotten the floor to quit moving under his feet as it was.
 
Spike needed a new plan and now. Think you bloody git! Think! Spike admonished himself silently as the men shackled his ankles and wrists and pulled him up to his feet.
 
“Let’s go …” Mac commanded, pushing Spike ahead of them out the door and then down the hall towards the white room.
 
Spike tested the shackles on his wrists … but they weren’t giving. He blew out a breath as he shuffled down the hallway and tried to think. He wouldn’t screw Harmony for the Initiative, he definitely wasn’t gonna screw some random vamp for these prats to get their rocks off … or create a Super Slayer with. Maybe they would be arrogant enough to bring Buffy after all ... that would be sweet. Spike couldn't wait to wipe the floor with these egotistical bastards...
 
“Since you’re new … a couple of rules,” Mac pulled Spike from his thoughts as they walked down the hallway.
 
“Yeah?” Spike questioned, slowing his pace even further to have more time to think.
 
“First rule, keep the demon down, no fighting, no biting,” Mac informed Spike. “Second rule, missionary position, cum in ‘er quim. If ya got more after that, then whatever floats your boat … I’d bugger ‘er bung-hole m’self … she’s a got a fine ass, this one.”
 
“And don’t she know it?” came a comment from one of the other men and all Spike’s escorts began chuckling knowingly.
 
“I love plowing that one’s back field,” another one interjected.
 
Spike frowned and his hope that it would be Buffy who would be joining him crumbled. “So … what, when I’m done, you blokes get sloppy … fourths?” Spike questioned. “Don’t seem quite fair, does it? You doing all the hard work and me getting’ all the goodies,” he questioned, hoping to get them thinking … perhaps get them a bit disgruntled with their employer.
 
“As tight as this one is, you could have sloppy twentieths and it wouldn’t make a bit of bloody difference,” Mac informed Spike and the others nodded their agreement enthusiastically.
 
Spike rolled his eyes. That didn’t work … he needed a new plan.
 
Mac stepped in front of Spike as they reached the end of the hall and opened the white door. He stopped Spike just inside the room and began unlocking the shackles. Spike’s eyes scanned the room and the mezzanine above ... Whoever the other party was in their little show hadn’t been brought in yet, the tables in the center of the room were empty. There were perhaps thirty men and women in the observation area above the stark, sterile room; some in white lab coats, others obviously Watchers in their tweed … still others looked like they were perhaps sorcerers or witches. Spaced evenly around the ‘arena’ were four snipers with tranq guns … Bugger…
 
“A new twist on the ‘nooner’ …” Spike mumbled under his breath as he rubbed his wrists and waited for Mac to unlock his ankles.
 
“Look, mate … follow the rules, don’t ask questions, don’t make trouble and you’ll be alright. A good fuck, a good pint of blood … what more could you want?” Mac advised one last time.
 
“And if I don’t?” Spike questioned, still scanning the room for a way out of this, not just out of this room but out of this whole mess, not just for him but for Buffy and Bess too.
 
“There’s plenty more where you came from,” Mac advised him. “You’re disposable … like a used condom.”
 
“Right…” Spike drawled, as he took a breath and sauntered towards the padded tables in the center of the room. He searched the faces peering down at him, some had clipboards ready to jot notes, some were chatting amiably about the weather or making plans for lunch … like this was just another day at the office. Spike shook his head and snorted to himself … and they thought the vampires were the barbarians – the demons. As he listened to the hushed conversations and scanned the faces of the onlookers, he searched for Travers, but he didn’t see him.  If he could get a hold of the Council Head … hold him hostage, use him as leverage, they’d have to let them go … wouldn’t they? But he needed to get by those snipers first…
 
Spike was pulled from his thoughts and his survey of the audience by the door opening again. He turned around just in time to see Bess being led in by Mac. Spike drew in a sharp breath and banged a fist on his forehead in anger … of course it would be Bess! Travers was a sadistic son-of-a-bitch … there’s no way it could’ve been anyone else. The crass and vulgar comments the guards had made during their walk down the hallway burned in Spike's gut and anger flared anew within him. He had to get them out of here ... and he vowed to make it as painful as possible on everyone involved in the tortures that had been meted out on his daughter.
 
Bess looked up and her eyes met Spike’s across the expanse of white floor as Mac unlocked her shackles. A look of relief seemed to spread across her features, but it quickly changed to worry. Spike stood frozen in place as she walked across the floor towards him after Mac and her other escorts had left the room, locking the door behind them.

 

“I’m glad you’re unhurt,” Bess began. “The men were not as kind to … Buffy.”
 
Spike clenched his jaw – looking past the young blonde, trying to keep his anger from blossoming into uncontrollable fury. Buffy told him what they’d done to her and he’d raged against the bars of his cell for what seemed hours afterwards, trying to get out, trying to get to her … but to no avail, the bars were too strong.
 
“Spike?” Bess questioned, laying a hand on his arm.
 
Spike looked down and met her eyes … the worried eyes of his daughter stared back at him and he felt his anger and frustration building even higher within him. Spike took a deep breath ... he needed to stay calm, keep his mind clear - he needed a plan and he needed it fast.
 
Bess stood on tip-toes and leaned against him, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling her mouth near his ear. “You must do this … if you don’t they will remove you … you will be taken to the blue room. No one ever comes out of the blue room…” she reminded him.
 
“I can’t ... I won't,” Spike choked out through clenched teeth.
 
“You must …” Bess insisted, taking hold of both sides of his head and pulling his mouth against hers, smashing his lips against hers in a brutal and violent kiss.
 
Spike tried to pull away, but her strength was more than that of a vampire … more than a Slayer … it was a Slayer’s strength multiplied by a demon nearly as old as he was. Spike fought her, pushing on her shoulders, but she was unmovable … finally, in desperation, he swept her legs out from under her with one of his and they both tumbled to the floor. The vampires struggled on the floor for a few seconds until Bess pinned him down, holding both of his hands in one of hers and pressing her hips against his. She turned his face up to hers with her free hand and dropped her mouth near his ear again.
 
“If you want to survive, you must do this. Close your eyes … you don’t need to see me; I can be anyone – call me any name you desire,” Bess advised him quietly enough that only he could hear her. “Do not fight me … if we fight, they will remove you … possibly both of us!” Bess admonished him, still talking quietly. She knew from the dream that he wouldn’t want to do this … he’d made it abundantly clear that he did not desire her, but she also knew that there was no choice. If he was to have any chance at all of keeping his promise, he was going to have to do what was expected … they were going to have to copulate.
 
“I bloody well will not!” Spike whispered back, his voice low but adamant.
 
Bess let go of his face and slipped her free hand between them, unbuckling his belt, unbuttoning his jeans and sliding the zipper down. Spike struggled under her, trying to get away, trying to push her off, trying to turn over, but nothing was budging the keg of dynamite that had him pinned down.
 
Suddenly Spike heard voices above them calling out whispered greetings to a newcomer. He tilted his head back and looked up … Travers. The Council Head’s eyes met Spike’s across the long distance as he looked down at the ‘field of battle’. Travers folded his arms over his chest and smirked smugly as he watched Spike struggle against his own daughter. There was no way for Travers to lose – Bess would either succeed in mating with Spike, or Spike would struggle and fight enough that one of the snipers would sedate him with a tranq dart and he’d be hauled away to the blue room. It was a no-win situation for Spike; a no-lose situation for Travers, and the wanker was enjoying every minute of it.


 
Bess pulled Spike’s cock out of his pants and began stroking roughly up and down its length, pulling Spike’s attention away from Travers and back to her. “Stop!” Spike demanded, kicking his feet and trying to roll his hips to the side to dislodge her.
 
“Stop fighting me,” Bess instructed, her voice low but commanding. “Just lay still – I’ll do everything … close your eyes and stop moving!”
 
“No! God damn it, stop!” Spike repeated in a desperate whisper, cursing his own body and the demon within for responding to her hand as she jacked him to hardness.
 
Spike heard several men begin chanting some kind of spell as Bess lifted up and began to position herself over his now hard cock. As she released her hold on his hands and raised up to take him into her, Spike bucked with all his strength and rolled her over onto her back, landing on top of her. He grabbed her hands in his and pressed down against her body to hold her still, his mind racing to formulate some kind of plan to keep the promise he’d made her.
 
Spike leaned down, his mouth near her ear. “Just pretend … fake it,” he whispered as he began moving his hips against her, his quickly softening cock rubbing harmlessly on her stomach. Bess’ dress, which was bunched up around her waist, along with his jeans, which still clung to his hips, and his duster, which fell over their lower halves, hid the fact that there was no penetration from the observers above them.
 
Spike kept his mouth near her ear as he pretended to ravage her and Bess responded with moans and cries. “Listen careful now,” Spike whispered to her as their bodies gave a convincing performance for the crowd of onlookers. “Tell Junior to tell Faith – we’re alive, we’re under the Watcher’s headquarters on Baker Street. Get here soon. Got that?” he asked her before moaning loudly himself as if near climax.
 
“Tell Faith, under Watcher’s, Baker Street, hurry,” Bess summarized then cried out and arched her back up against him.
 
“Right,” Spike confirmed before growling loudly and thrusting his hips against her one last time before collapsing down on top of her and wrapping his arms around her shoulders, keeping his mouth near her ear.
 
“He doesn’t come every night any longer…” Bess whispered worriedly.
 
“’S ok, just do what you can, pet… I swear I’ll get you outta here,” he whispered to her.
 
“But who will get you out?” Bess questioned wrapping her arms around his back as he lay atop her.
 
Spike snorted softly. “You will… you and Junior.”
 
The chanting ended and the spectators began talking amongst themselves again. Spike looked up at Travers with undisguised hatred and revulsion, but Travers just smiled at him and gave him small salute, touching two fingers to his forehead and then pulling them away sharply in Spike’s direction. Travers was finally getting his revenge against the rogue Slayer and her demon lover … humiliation and degradation was just the first step in his ever expanding plan to use them to fulfill his own destiny and then destroy them.

 

Travers signaled to Mac, who was watching the ‘show’ from the other side of the observation deck, and the man nodded his understanding and headed back downstairs. Just as Spike was re-buckling his belt, the door opened and Mac led another vamp in … a big, burly guy with wild eyes and a venomous laugh.
 
Spike stepped forward, putting himself between the newcomer and Bess. "Oi, Mac … thought I had dibs on the girl t’day…” Spike called to the jailer.
 
“Sorry, mate … boss’ orders,” Mac explained, tilting his head towards Travers who was watching with an amused smile on his lips.
 
Spike looked up at Travers, narrowing his eyes angrily, then back to Mac who was starting to unlock the new vamp’s shackles. “Thought we had to keep the demon down … wasn’t that one o’ your bloody rules?” Spike questioned, looking at the mountain of a vampire who towered over him by several inches and had at least sixty pounds on Spike.
 
Mac shrugged. “This one’s fit for Bedlam … rumor is that’s where he come from. I don’t know why they even keep ‘im … he don’t follow any of the soddin’ rules,” Mac complained as he dropped the shackles from the big man’s ankles and backed up fast, exiting the room before the crazy vamp could take a swipe at him, then slamming and locking the door quickly.
 
“Kralik,” Bess hissed from behind Spike, grabbing Spike’s arm as he took a step towards the newcomer. “He’s … deranged … demented.”

 

She’d endured a lot over her long life … rapes and tortures of every description, but Kralik was the most sadistic thing she’d ever met. They’d only put her with him once before … he nearly dusted her when he’d lost his hard-on and flew into a wild, blind rage – breaking a wooden leg from one of the tables and raping her with it, even as tranq darts embedded into his flesh from the snipers. As the darts hit him, he pulled the splintered and bloody piece of wood up over his head and had come within seconds of embedding it into her chest. At the last moment, she was able to roll away from him and off the table and he slammed the stake into the table’s padding instead of her. He was the strongest vamp she’d ever met, fueled by insane adrenaline and unbridled psychotic aggression.
 
It was one of the only times she could remember the guards showing any kindness towards her at all … they were generally as callous and unfeeling as Kralik, but that time they had actually helped her. After the doctors had done all they could for her, Mac had carried her back to her cell and one of the others had gotten clean blankets so she didn’t have to lie in the dirt; they even gave her extra blood for several days without asking for anything in return. At the time she didn’t know why they’d done that … she later deduced that she was their favorite ride in this demonic amusement park and they were afraid the ride had been closed permanently – they were just doing their best to keep that from happening. When she was healed, everything went back to business as usual … but they never put Kralik with her again … until now. She thought that he had been a victim of the blue room ... certainly any other vamp that fought was hauled off to the mysterious chamber that nothing but screams ever escaped from; to say she was surprised and disheartened to see him still among the undead would be a gross understatement.
 
“If you fight they’ll…” Bess began, her voice worried, both for herself and Spike.
 
“Ain’t gonna fight,” Spike assured her.
 
“Then what?”
 
Spike shrugged as he sized up the behemoth of a vamp who had just noticed them. “Use my boyish charm, sparkling personality, and powers of persuasion…”
 
“And if that doesn’t work?” Bess questioned as she looked behind her for something to use as a weapon. They’d since replaced the wooden tables with metal ones, the countertops that the doctors used on one end of the room were granite … the cabinet doors might be wood, she couldn’t tell. She’d rather fight and face the blue room or dust than give herself to Kralik again.
 
Spike shrugged again. “Reckon we’ll put on a bit of a bible lesson for the folks … ‘David and Goliath’.”
 
Spike stepped forward, pulling his arm away from Bess, adjusting the collar on his duster and then hooking his thumbs over his belt buckle, giving his best master vamp, Big Bad look to the psycho from Bedlam.

 

“Sorry, mate … girl’s off ‘er game t’day … just got no fire to her. Why don’t ya leave her to me for a day or two and you can have her after that? I’ll get her fixed up for ya … raring to go” Spike offered amiably, as he sauntered towards Kralik.
 
Kralik looked at him curiously, tilting his head to the side as if considering Spike’s offer intently. “Go fuck yourself,” he growled at Spike, starting towards him and, by default, towards Bess who was now a few yards behind Spike.
 
“I knew you’d see through that … ya’ know, you’re right.” Spike continued to talk like he was speaking to an old friend as the larger vamp approached him. “A handsome guy like you – you probably have girls throwing themselves at you day and night; must get shagged … what … two, three times a day? Me? … Man, I haven’t had any in months… Can’t you give a bloke a break?”
 
Kralik stopped moving just a couple of feet from Spike and narrowed his eyes, looking Spike up and down, sizing him up. “Girl’s mine … you can have what’s left when I’m done,” Kralik offered.
 
“Bloody hell…” Spike moaned, rolling his eyes. “Ok … if that’s the way you want it,” Spike acquiesced, taking a step to the side and waving an arm for Kralik to pass.
 
Bess’ eyes went wide when Spike stepped to the side and waved Kralik towards her and she redoubled her efforts to find something that would serve as a stake. She began frantically yanking on the locked cabinets that lined the back of the room until she found a drawer that wasn’t locked. She pulled it out, dumping a pile of shiny medical instruments on the floor. She sighed in relief when she found the sides of the drawer were solid wood and she stomped down on it, splintering it into several pieces. Bess picked up two jagged, sharp, stake-like pieces of the drawer, then turned back around quickly to face Kralik, who had just passed Spike on his way to her.

  

When Kralik got about two paces beyond Spike, Spike brought up his demon and charged at the larger vamp, hitting him in the back and knocking him to the ground with a hard thud. The snipers all raised their weapons, ready to tranq the fighting vampires, but Travers stopped them, ordering them to stand down. The white room had just been transformed into the Colosseum in ancient Rome … and Travers had thrown the Christians to the lions… or Spike and Bess to Kralik, as it were.

The two vamps growled viciously as they wrestled on the floor for control, sounding like two male lions fighting over a pride of females. They knocked the heavy, metal tables over as they grappled and struggled against the other; biting, hitting, scratching, kicking ... doing anything they could to gain the advantage. Bess moved forward with her stakes as Spike and Kralik rolled around on the floor – first one on top, then the other. Not aware that she couldn’t dust Spike with a stake, she hesitated – their movements were too unpredictable for her to strike with any confidence.
 
Suddenly, Kralik threw Spike off him, sending the smaller vamp skidding across the smooth floor and crashing into the wall head-first. Spike shook off the stars that were swirling in front of his eyes and struggled back to his feet, fists clenched, all senses on alert, completely focused on the behemoth from Bedlam.
 
“I’m gonna warm up with you … then move on to your girlfriend!” Kralik roared at Spike as the large vamp started back towards him.
 
“I’ll rip your bloody head off and shit down your throat ‘fore you get your little dick outta your pants!” Spike threatened back, starting back towards the center of the room and Kralik.
 
“Yeah? You and what army?” Kralik growled.

 

Spike stood up from his crouch and smirked as Bess approached the mountainous vamp from behind, one stake drawn back ready to strike. At the last possible moment, Kralik glimpsed her shadow on the floor and whirled on her, slamming against her jaw with an iron fist. Bess dropped one of the stakes as her head snapped violently to the side, but she recovered quickly and spun around, catching him in the solar plexus with her fist and doubling him over as pain radiated out from the hub of nerves to all parts of his body.
 
Spike couldn’t stop himself from watching this Slayer fight for a moment … she moved like the wind … just like her mother, strong and graceful. Her face, still human, was a study in concentration as she came down on the back of the larger vamp’s neck with both hands clasped together like a human sledgehammer and raised her knee up to meet his face at the same time. Kralik screamed out as blood poured from his nose and mouth and he fell to the floor. Bess was on him in a second, her other stake raised, poised to strike, when three tranq darts hit her almost simultaneously. Bess screamed out in pain and tried to pull them out … but, despite her extraordinary strength, her small frame succumbed quickly to the drugs. Her shoulders slumped and her arm with the stake fell uselessly to her side as she tried to fight the effects of the tranquilizers and remain conscious.

 

“Noooo!” Spike screamed as the darts hit her, glancing up quickly at Travers who wore a smug look on his face … now the Romans were actually helping the lions.

 

Spike moved forward quickly to help his daughter, but it was too late. Kralik threw the barely coherent Slayer-vamp off him, propelling her several feet in the air like she weighed nothing, like a rag doll. She landed hard against the cabinets that lined the wall at the back of the room and cracked her skull against the unyielding granite countertop, then sank to the floor.
 
Bess held her head and tried to stand back up … but her legs buckled and she fell to her hands and knees. Her stomach heaved and blood ran into her eyes as she tried to get back to help Spike. She could hear the men fighting but her spinning head and blurred vision made it impossible for her to see what was going on. She crawled toward the sounds … making it only a few feet before she collapsed in an unconscious heap … the stake she’d had still clutched tightly in her hand, the darts still embedded in her flesh.
 
Kralik grabbed up the stake that Bess had dropped when he hit her and jumped back to his feet just as Spike reached him. The stake in the larger vamp’s hand slashed a deep gash across Spike’s stomach as he swung it at him and Spike jumped back and screamed out in pain. Kralik took full advantage of the opportunity, tackling Spike like an overzealous linebacker zeroing in on an injured quarterback, and driving the smaller man down with all his strength onto the hard, unforgiving floor. In an instant, Kralik was pressing the stake against Spike’s sternum.
 
“Where’s your army now?” Kralik mocked as he pressed the stake into Spike’s heart.
 
Despite the pain, Spike began to laugh evilly as shock and confusion splattered across the larger vamp’s face. Kralik pulled the stake out and stabbed in again … and again, and again, but the wounds healed almost as quickly as he could make new ones. What the fuck? Then the larger vamp saw it – a brief glimpse before the wound healed … a shiny glimmer of green in one of the gaping chest wounds.
 
Kralik’s eyes narrowed … could it be? The legendary Gem of Amarra? When Kralik hesitated, Spike punched him in the jaw, left … right … then left again, rocking the crazy vamp’s head from side to side … but Kralik barely noticed – his whole focus had changed. Kralik growled savagely and began stabbing the stake into Spike’s chest repeatedly. Spike screamed out in pain and tried to block the attack, despite the wounds healing, they still hurt like a motherfucker when they were being inflicted. Finally, Kralik found it again – that little green glint in the bright lights, and he stuck his whole hand into Spike’s gaping chest wound, wrapping his fingers around the small, glimmering stone.
 
Spike finally realized through the pain what was happening and he grabbed the larger vamp’s wrist with both of his hands to stop him from removing the Gem from its hiding place next to his heart. The wound in Spike’s chest began to heal around Kralik’s hand as the men struggled against each other for control of the Gem. Spike screamed out in agony as the larger vamp won the tug-of-war and pulled his hand, and the Gem, out of Spike’s chest. As Kralik yanked his hand out, Spike's rib bones, which had started to heal around the larger vamp's wrist, shattered with a sickening crunching sound and a wet sucking noise accompanied the tearing of Spike's soft tissue. Spike's left pectoral muscle and lung were shredded and three ribs were shattered; Spike writhed in pain, holding both hands over his chest, as an oozing, gaping maw of splintered bones and torn flesh was created in Spike’s sternum by the crazed vamp.
 
Kralik held his prize up in the air in victory … stupidly showing it to everyone in the ‘arena’ … to all the researchers and Watchers, guards, and doctors looking on. Spike summoned every ounce of courage and strength he had and slapped the Gem out of the larger vamp’s hand, sending it skittering across the white floor and into the maze of overturned tables in the center of the room.
 
Kralik roared in anger and started across the floor on hands and knees, following the bright red blood trail it left on the sterile, white floor. Spike held his bloody, broken, and ravaged chest with his right hand and started after him, grabbing the larger vamp’s foot with the other hand and yanking him backwards – sliding him back across the slick floor in the opposite direction from the tables … then it was a race for the Gem. Spike got to the jumble of tables first and began searching for it frantically, the pain in his body overpowered by sheer willpower and determination to find the Gem. He pushed the overturned tables out of the way, flipping them and sliding them in a frenzied attempt to get to the bauble before Kralik ... and then - there it was! Spike reached for the small, green jewel just as Kralik caught him and hurtled the smaller vamp away, sending Spike sliding across the floor towards Bess.
 
Spike hit Bess with enough force to send them both crashing against the cabinets a few feet away. The surgical instruments that had been dropped on the floor earlier scattered, flashes of light bounced off the sharp, shiny blades as the two blondes slid through the middle of the pile. Spike was still bleeding from the gaping wound in his chest and excruciating, searing pain radiated out to all parts of his body from his broken ribs; he tried to breathe through the pain but quickly gave that up - it hurt more to breath than not. He concentrated on forcing his mind to stay conscious and focused ... this was no time to give up or give in.
 
Spike could hear Kralik growling and overturning the tables, still looking for the Gem in the center of the room. He covered Bess’ body defensively with his own and began pulling the tranq darts out of his daughter’s flesh, hoping that she could wake up … hoping that she could defend herself, because he wasn’t sure how long he’d last now. Before Spike could get all the darts out, he was jerked up by the scruff of his neck like he was nothing more than a kitten and tossed through the air, landing on the floor a few feet away from Bess.
 
“Where is it!?” Kralik demanded as Spike held his broken ribs and bloody body with his right hand and struggled unsteadily back to his feet.

 

“I bloody well don’t ‘ave it,” Spike pointed out, bent at the waist, holding his ribs, unable to stand straight.
 
Kralik growled and stormed towards him, the bloody stake he had used to find the Gem still in his hand. He lifted Spike up with one hand around the smaller vamp’s neck and pressed the stake against his chest.
 
“Got no army now, pretty boy ... no Gem, either,” Kralik taunted, holding Spike around the neck with his feet dangling free, nearly a foot off the floor. “Tell me where it is and I’ll make this quick…” Kralik threatened ... or perhaps it was a promise. “Otherwise, I’m gonna take you apart piece by piece until I find it.”
 
Spike gurgled a crazed and painful laugh past Kralik’s grip, which turned into a wet cough as he spit up blood from his lungs and painted the larger vamp’s face with a spray of red.
 
“You think that’s funny!?” Kralik roared in anger, tightening his grip on Spike’s throat and pressing the stake closer to his heart. “I’m gonna send you straight to hell!”
 
“I’ll … save… you … a …seat,” Spike gasped out past the larger vamp’s grip. Spike raised his left hand to the psycho’s chest and pressed a stake against Kralik’s sternum; the stake he’d pulled from Bess’ hand just as Kralik yanked him away from her.
 
Spike opened the bond with Buffy … he’d felt her ‘knocking’ for a while, but couldn’t let her in lest he lose focus. Don’t give up, he sent to her quickly. Don’t let them have the littlest bit…
 
Spike! What’s wrong? I have an idea! Bess! Bess can tell Billy where we are in a dream! He can tell Faith, Buffy’s thoughts rushed out ... she'd been trying to reach him for ages.
 
Good idea, pet … I love you – never forget – I love you, Spike sent back.
 
Spike! What’s going on? Spike!? Buffy called back, but he had closed the bond and focused his full attention back on the vamp that had him by the throat.
 
Kralik growled in anger and both vamps pushed their stakes into the other’s flesh … punching the other’s ticket to hell with the jagged, deadly wood.

**~**

{{Click here to hear "White Room” by Cream on YouTube  }}


 In the white room with black curtains near the station.
Blackroof country, no gold pavements, tired starlings.
Silver horses ran down moonbeams in your dark eyes.
Dawnlight smiles on you leaving, my contentment.

I'll wait in this place where the sun never shines;
Wait in this place where the shadows run from themselves.

You said no strings could secure you at the station.
Platform ticket, restless diesels, goodbye windows.
I walked into such a sad time at the station.
As I walked out, felt my own need just beginning.

I'll wait in the queue when the trains come by;
Lie with you where the shadows run from themselves.

At the party she was kindness in the hard crowd.
Consolation for the old wound now forgotten.
Yellow tigers crouched in jungles in her dark eyes.
Now she's dressing, goodbye windows, tired starlings.

I'll sleep in this place with the lonely crowd;
Lie in the dark where the shadows run from themselves.
End Notes:
TBC ... (duh!) ... Is Buffy about to lose everything *again*??!! Is my muse *that evil*?? Would he really dust Spike!? Wow ... you never know with him! Will have more soon! Love hearing from you ... don't be shy, even if you just want to tell my muse how evil he is or toss daggers at him! :O
I Fight Authority by Passion4Spike
Author's Notes:
Buffy fights authority … will authority win?
**
Warning for violence and bloodshed.
**
Music Referenced:
I Fight Authority, John Cougar Mellencamp
 http://youtu.be/-FwxQhbtemQ
 **
ScreenCaps courtesy of ScreenCap Paradise:
http://www.screencap-paradise.com/?cat=3
**
 Special thanks to 'epd4' for betaing this chapter!!
(Moments later), Monday, April 26th, 2010, 10:30am, London:
 
Kralik growled in anger and both vamps pushed their stakes into the other’s chest … punching the other’s ticket to hell with the jagged, deadly wood.
 
Suddenly, Spike heard the snipers fire and tranquilizer darts zipped through the air, one hit Spike in the shoulder, and three hit Kralik in the back, but still the vamps didn’t stop, pressing their stakes deeper … closer to the other’s heart.
 
The snipers reloaded quickly and fired another round of four darts and Spike felt himself losing control of his muscles … he felt Kralik’s grip loosen on this throat. In just moments, both vamps lay unconscious on the floor of the bloody … literally bloody, room.
 
“Get them out of there and find that Gem!” Travers ordered to no one in particular, waving his arm down into the field of battle. When no one moved, he screamed, “NOW!” and everyone in the observation area suddenly jumped to life.
 
Mac unlocked the door and the guards began dragging the unconscious vamps out. “What do you want done with them?” he asked, looking up at Travers who remained in the mezzanine above, watching the activity.
 
“Blue room for them,” Travers answered coldly, indicating Spike and Kralik. “Take her to solitary confinement…”

 
**~**
 
Spike moaned as someone slapped his cheeks. “Time to rise and shine!” a voice called brightly, slicing through the fog in his brain like a razor.
 
Spike’s head was bowed and lolled back and forth as the owner of that voice continued to slap him awake. Spike finally rolled his head up and opened his eyes. Everything was out of focus … like he was looking through an old, distorted piece of glass, and he blinked to try and clear his vision.

 

“There you are … just in time for the party,” Weatherby announced gleefully before turning his attention to the still unconscious Kralik.
 
Spike looked around and tried to figure out where he was now … it wasn’t hell, of that he was certain. Then everything started coming back to him and he realized this was the blue room … the room filled with every torture device ever conceived by man, the room from which only screams escaped. Spike looked down – he was stripped naked, someone had stuffed part of his t-shirt into the wound in his chest to staunch the bleeding. He was strapped into a straight-backed, heavy wooden chair; Spike pulled against his restraints, but they were secure and didn’t budge even a millimeter.
 
“There now …” Weatherby began as Kralik woke up, as well. “I am Mr. Weatherby … you can call me ‘sir’ … I’ll be your Master of Ceremonies for the remainder of your stay at the Bates Motel.”
 
Spike looked over at Kralik, he was also naked and strapped into the same type of chair, then Spike looked at their ‘MC’. “What … not even dinner and a movie? I don't want to rush into anything.”

 

“Funny guy,” Weatherby sneered. “Don’t worry … I’ll be gentle, start out slow, get you in the mood before I break your heart … along with the rest of you … quite literally.”
 
“I appreciate that, mate … I've been hurt, ya know,” Spike continued to quip as he kept pulling on his restraints and looked around for some means of escape.
 
“Not by me … you’ve never felt pain until you’ve felt mine, mate,” Weatherby assured him as he picked up the cattle prod that he’d used on Bess. “This should get some sparks flying for you… might even get your heart all atwitter,” he quipped darkly as he pressed the prod against Spike’s bare, blood-stained abdomen.
 
Spike’s body jerked and strained against the leather restraints that held him in the chair as 20,000 volts surged through his body, burning his skin and rolling his eyes back in his head. “Not so funny now, are ya, blondie?” Weatherby asked rhetorically as he pulled the prod away and Spike slumped forward the chair.
 
Weatherby turned his attention to Kralik who had been enjoying the spectacle and chuckling. “Whoa, man! I didn’t do anything!” Kralik argued.
 
“Not your man, not your mate … you will address me as sir or master,” Weatherby informed Kralik as he pressed the prod against the big man’s stomach as he’d done Spike.
 
Spike actually felt his heart beat for a few seconds as the electricity flowed through him – it was a surreal feeling, as if something that might’ve killed a human was actually bringing his body to life – sending blood pumping in his veins. The stench of burning flesh filled his nostrils and brought him back out of the irony of his situation to the moment, though. He knew that he could take a lot of punishment and he didn’t fear that … but sooner or later Weatherby would get tired of playing with them. He’d been on dust’s doorstep in the white room … he really didn’t want to march up to it and bang on it here in the blue room, he was pretty sure someone would open it for him here.
 
Spike could hear Weatherby’s heart racing with excitement as he plied his trade of tortures. It was clear that the … what was he? A Watcher? … Whatever he was, he definitely got off on inflicting pain. After a couple of hours of ‘small’ tortures, like the cattle prod on their stomachs and necks, the branding iron, which emblazoned a large ‘W’ on their chests and backs, and the blow torch on their feet, (each burning torture followed immediately by being doused with ice-cold water, to keep them from actually igniting and dusting), Weatherby took a break. Spike figured he went to wank off … if the man had gotten any more aroused, he would’ve cum in his bloody pants.
 
Spike knew that their MC was just getting warmed up, judging by the implements of torture in the room … he had a long way to go before he reached his stride.  Spike had refused to scream … not giving Weatherby the satisfaction, which he could tell was ticking the man off, but Spike didn’t know how long he could keep that resolve as the sadistic bastard moved on to harsher and more painful tortures. Spike and Kralik both struggled against their restraints while Weatherby was gone, but there was no budging them … they still wouldn’t give at all, and the heavy chairs were bolted to the floor, they wouldn’t even tip over.
 
After about thirty minutes, Weatherby came back into the room and brought a guest with him – Travers. Quentin walked up and stopped in front of the two vamps, giving Spike a smug smile as he surveyed the damage that Weatherby had inflicted thus far.

 

“So, I see you’ve met our Mr. Weatherby,” Quentin began amiably. “He’s really quite talented, don’t you agree? Before long you’ll both wish I had let you dust in the white room, I can assure you.”
 
“Do you have some point, Watcher?” Spike sneered at him. “‘Cos you’re keeping us from the fun ‘n games… he was just starting to get me all warm and tingly inside.”
 
Weatherby punched Spike in the face, rocking Spike’s head to the side and bloodying his mouth as his teeth cut into his lip. Spike licked at the blood dripping from his split lip and smirked at Travers as if that hadn’t hurt at all.
 
Travers stared at Spike for several long moments before turning his eyes to Kralik. “The first one of you who tells me where the Gem is will be sent back to your cell alive … or undead, at any rate. I assure you that no further harm will come to you,” Quentin promised, crossing his arms over his chest and looking expectantly from Spike to Kralik.
 
“Sod off!” Spike exclaimed. “Any nit can see we don’t ‘ave the bloody thing!” he pointed out, looking down at the wounds and burns that covered his body.
 
“Pretty boy had it last!” Kralik asserted.
 
“Bloody well did not – you buggering Neanderthal! You tossed me away ‘fore I could get it … you musta hid it in there … maybe in them tables,” Spike defended.
 
“You sorry son-of-a-bitch! I never found it after you knocked it out of my hand! You had it last!” Kralik contended.
 
Spike shook his head and pursed his lips. “He’s bug-shagging crazy, ya know …” he pointed out unnecessarily to Travers. “He had it…”

 

Travers sighed and rolled his eyes dramatically. “I’m sure after a few more hours with Mr. Weatherby, one of you will be happy to go back to your cell … while the other can be kept in here for … years. There really is no limit to our Mr. Weatherby’s passion for pain. I can wait …”
 
Travers nodded to Weatherby as he turned away from the vamps and left the room … Kralik protesting the whole time that Spike had it last. Spike had sometimes wondered if there was a more sadistic motherfucker in the world than Angelus … he reckoned he was about to find out.
 
**~**
 


Buffy wanted desperately to pace in her cell, but her battered and bruised knees wouldn’t allow more than hobbling across the cell and back to the cot once before forcing her to sit down again. She’d been awoken that morning with breakfast, which she ate … saving the apple for later. She’d talked a little bit with Bess, calling back and forth down the corridor to see if she was alright and tried to assure her that they would find a way out of this. Buffy really wished someone would assure her of that… so, of course, she tried to contact Spike … and tried and tried – but he never answered her. Then she heard the guards taking Bess out of her cell and down the hallway and Buffy forced her knees to pace the cell without sitting … she knew what going down the hallway meant for Bess – but she was powerless to stop it. If she made trouble, she knew it would only be worse on the girl.
 
As she paced … or hobbled, back and forth across her cell, her mind raced … racking her brain for some way out of this. No one would even know where to begin looking for them ... well, certainly they would check with Travers and the Council, but how would they find this place, which was at least four stories below the sewers. If Travers did what he described, their friends may not even know to look for them. If she could just get word to Willow or Faith or Giles … Then it dawned on her! The same way they knew to look for Bess in the first place could be used to get a message to Faith! In the dreams Bess shared with Billy. So simple! She again tried to contact Spike … but again was met with silence. Where was he? What was going on?
 
When Spike finally opened the bond, her hope for reassurance from him was squashed like a bug on the sidewalk; he sounded … resigned. He sounded very much like she felt that time she went into the Hellmouth alone to fight the uber-vamps and the First Evil, and that filled her heart with dread. He wouldn’t tell her what was going on … he would only say that he loved her … admonished her to not give up and not let the Council get their hands on their baby. Buffy tried to stay positive … every minute that passed without a hole opening in her soul meant that he had made it through that minute. But her mind imagined the worst … knowing what they’d seen in the blue room, her mind wandered down that road of its own volition. Buffy stopped herself and tried to think positive thoughts … but mostly she was positive that Spike was being tortured. She didn’t know why, but she just knew that was happening and he didn’t want her to know – that’s why he wouldn’t open the bond. Buffy finally gave up pacing and lay down on the cot and cried into her pillow in frustration – she hated not knowing what was going on and she hated the images that her mind was conjuring up.
 
When she heard someone coming down the hall, Buffy jumped up and watched two guards drag an unconscious Bess down the corridor, past her cell and beyond.
 
“Bess! What happened!? What have you done to her!?” she demanded of the guards, but they just ignored her and kept going. Buffy heard the heavy double doors at the end of the hall open … the ones that led to the room where she first joined Billy in his dream of the dungeon, the doors that Spike and she had pried open to get in here from the bomb shelter, and then close again and the lock fall.
 
“What the fuck is going on!?” she questioned again when the guards came back by without Bess … but she was again met with only silence.
 
**~**
 
1:00 pm
 
Buffy finished her sandwich and glass of milk … saving her apple for later, and sat back down on her cot, massaging her sore knees to try and get the swelling to go down. The guards that brought her lunch wouldn’t talk to her … she still knew no more than she had that morning about what was going on. She tried calling to Bess, but could never get a reply; she didn’t know if the girl couldn’t hear her through the door or if she was still unconscious; she kept trying to contact Spike … but was met with silence there, as well.
 
As Buffy sat on her cot, she heard footsteps approaching and looked up just as Travers came into view. The Council Head stopped in front of her cell and crossed his arms over his chest. “Your demon is quite the comedian … did you teach him that or he just a naturally cheeky? A recalcitrant, like you, possessing no respect for authority?” Travers asked her.


 
Buffy narrowed her eyes at him. He was alone …no guards. If he’d just come two steps closer she could reach him … she could strangle him through the bars and oh how she longed to do that.
 
“I respect authority,” Buffy informed him. “Just, you know, not the kind that wants to tell me what I can or can’t do…”
 
“Indeed,” Travers intoned dryly. “Well, I believe your demon will be getting a proper lesson in respect for authority very soon now…”
 
Buffy’s stomach tightened, but she tried to remain nonchalant on the surface. “Well … good luck with that. I’ve been trying to get him to pick up his wet towels off the floor for years … if you find something that works, you let me know, ok?”
 
“Ever the cheeky wench … I suppose you’ll still be tossing out quips on your final judgment day as you stand before God,” Travers observed.
 
Buffy snorted a soft laugh. “I’ve got news for you …” she began, standing up and moving slowly closer to the bars, closer to Travers. She motioned with her hand for him to come closer and he stepped slightly nearer. Buffy moved up to the bars and leaned towards him, lowering her voice conspiratorially. “Between you and me,” she began, keeping her voice barely audible, “God doesn’t dirty his hands with the whole due process thing.”
 
Travers narrowed his eyes and took another step closer so he could hear her better. “How would you know such a thing?” he questioned.
 
“Spike and I have been there … at the trails … before the judges. We’ve both died before, you know,” she informed him, lowering her voice even more as she started to describe the tribunal process. When Travers took one more step closer, Buffy reached out, grabbed his tie, and yanked him towards her, slamming his forehead against one of the bars. She pushed him back and slammed him against the bars again … and again and again until his face was a bloody pulp and his mind was in a daze. Buffy dropped him to the ground and began reaching through the bars, frantically searching his pockets for keys.
 
Travers cursed when Buffy grabbed him – he knew immediately that he’d let her lure him too close. He dropped a hand into his jacket pocket and pressed the remote alarm button that everyone entering the dungeon had to carry. He hoped that it wouldn’t take the guards too long to find him…

 

Buffy pulled out his wallet and a box of breath mints from his pockets then finally found a set of keys. She jumped up with them and hobbled to the lock on her cell, looking frantically for one that would fit … but these were just house keys … car keys – none were the large skeleton type keys that fit the cells. “Fuck!” Buffy exclaimed, dropping them onto the floor and turning back towards Travers, but in her excited state, she hadn’t noticed that the guards had arrived to aid their leader. As she started to go back towards the downed Council Head, she realized the guards had already dragged him out of reach. Before she could react, two tasers hit her in the chest and she collapsed to the ground … crying out in pain both from the electricity that surged through her and from landing on her injured knees as she went down.
 
She reached up and struggled to pull the tasers out as she collapsed the rest of the way down onto the dirt floor, reaching for her mangled knees and, at the same time, trying to rub the pain away where the tasers had embedded into her chest. She heard the guards screaming and the door to the cell open and suddenly she was being beaten with some type of whip. She curled in a ball on the floor, protecting her stomach and head as much as possible from the lashing. She screamed out as three guards slashed her back, buttocks, and legs with flexible, cane-like whips which seemed to explode through the air, announcing each strike with an eerie, grisly whistle. Buffy could feel her clothes and flesh shred and tear; her back felt like it was on fire as the whips ripped her skin painfully and left bloody ridges all along their path.  

 

“Stop … stop …” she heard a man’s voice call from in the hallway … his voice barely audible over the commotion in the cell, but the guards didn’t hear him in their zeal. “STOP!” finally was heard over the sounds of the lashing – it was Travers. The men stopped their whips in mid-swing as Travers stumbled into the cell, holding a handkerchief up to his broken and bloodied nose. “She’s the vessel that carries the Prophecy …” he gasped out as he held onto the bars of her cell to remain upright. “There is a better way… bring her.”
 
Buffy was starting to fade into unconsciousness just as the beating stopped and everything fell silent. For a moment, all she could hear was her own labored breath as it tore from her throat and the heavy breathing from the over-excited guards, and all she could feel was the excruciating pain that radiated out from her wounds; searing, debilitating pain the likes of which she’d never felt before. The entire back side of her body was covered in long, red, crisscrossing, bloody welts from the whipping – her clothes had been ripped to shreds from the severity of the blows.
 
As she struggled to remain lucid, she heard the men begin moving again and she tried to brace for more lashes. She involuntarily jumped in fright as two of the guards grabbed her arms roughly, startling her. They yanked her arms away from where she’d had them protecting her abdomen and shackled her wrists and then her ankles. They lifted her ravaged body roughly up from the floor, causing her to scream out as the fire re-ignited and covered her back anew with flames of agony. Every move she made sent burning, singeing bolts of pain through her body from the wounds that covered her back, buttocks, and legs. She moaned and her head lolled forward as they dragged her, barely conscious, from her cell and followed Travers down the long corridor. Travers opened the door to the blue room and the guards pulled her in, dropping her unceremoniously where Travers indicated, on the filthy, blood-stained floor at Spike’s feet.
 
Spike had been concentrating on going someplace else mentally … it was a trick he’d learned long ago and had practiced quite a lot over the years with Angelus, but he was brought back to the moment when he smelled new blood … Slayer blood. Spike opened his eyes in time to see them toss Buffy’s torn and tattered body down at his feet and his demon came up unbidden as anger exploded within him. He began struggling harder against his restraints and he thought he felt one on his left arm start to give, but it wasn’t enough – he couldn’t get out – he couldn’t help his wife.

 

“Buffy!” Spike screamed, looking from her to the bloodied face of Travers and then at the other guards, who still held the whips in their hands. “I’ll bloody well kill every last one of you fucking bastards!!!” Spike threatened, struggling even harder against his restraints.
 
“That’s quite doubtful,” Travers observed dryly as he dipped the handkerchief he had in Weatherby’s bucket of ice water and washed his face gingerly with it. When he’d cleaned his face as well as possible, Weatherby straightened the Council Head’s broken nose with practiced ease, putting it back in place, but there was nothing he could do to stop Travers’ eyes from swelling and blossoming a deep purple color.
 
When Travers was done with the water, he tossed the bucket on Buffy’s head as she writhed, semi-conscious, on the dirty floor of the blue room, bringing her out of her pain-induced daze with a start. She moaned and pushed painfully up to a sitting position, spitting, coughing, and blowing the water out of her nose and mouth and trying to breathe through the excruciating pain that permeated every cell in her body. She lifted her head and opened her eyes, looking around to try and figure out where she was, what was going on. She was having a hard time focusing … her mind was in a fog … she thought perhaps she’d just awoken from a nightmare … but no, she soon realized it was all too real.
 
“Spike! Oh my God…” she cried out when she saw him strapped to the chair; his naked body covered in blood, bruises, burns, and cuts of every description – there didn’t seem to be one place that hadn’t been ravaged. The huge wound in his chest told Buffy that they had removed the Gem of Amarra from its hiding place … he wasn’t healing, he could be dusted – she could lose him! Buffy tried to get up, to go to him, but her shackled ankles made her stumble and the guards grabbed her under her arms roughly and jerked her back.
 
“Now that the touching reunion is over,” Travers began. “I believe it’s time for today’s lesson in proper manners, young lady.”

 

Before Buffy or Spike could say anything more, Travers picked up a baseball bat that was leaning against Kralik’s chair and swung it hard at Spike’s face. Spike’s head shot back violently, crashing against the sturdy wooden chair at his back as blood gushed from his broken nose. Spike never made a sound, not even a moan escaped his throat as he shook his head to clear the cobwebs the blow had induced in his brain.
 
“STOP!” Buffy screamed as Travers pulled the bat back again. Even though every move shot fiery daggers of pain through her whole body, she struggled mightily against the men that were holding her, trying to get to Spike or Travers, trying to stop this. But she had been weakened by the beatings she’d endured and the heavy shackles weighed her down and kept her from kicking or hitting them. She couldn’t stop Travers, she could do nothing but watch, horrified and sickened by the sight and sound of the beating he was giving her husband.
 
Travers simply smiled ruefully at her when she screamed at him then he swung again … and again … blackening Spike’s eyes and crushing his nose as blood poured like rivers down his face and body. Blood spattered from Spike’s face, covering Travers and Buffy with red droplets of anguish and each blow made a sickening crunching noise when it hit as cartilage and bone met the hard, heavy hickory wood of the bat.
 
“STOP! STOP! STOP!” Buffy continued to shriek at the top of her lungs through the beating, tears of pain and horror flowing from her eyes as she watched the bastard punish her husband for her misdeed. Spike never made a sound as the bat hit its mark time and again … but finally couldn’t shake the cobwebs any longer and his head lolled back against the chair and he stopped struggling against his restraints, unable to fight his way out of the daze the blows had put him in.
 
Travers sat the bat down and calmly wiped the blood spatter from his face, hands and arms, then turned to her. “Now, my dear … have we learned something today? Don’t fight my authority, Miss Summers.” Travers advised calmly. “The next time you try something foolish like that… I will rip his eyeballs out of their sockets and feed them to you. Do I make myself clear?”
 
Buffy’s eyes were wide with horror, her heart raced and her stomach churned … she no longer even felt her own injuries, she could only see Spike. His body covered in red, blue, purple, and black marks, like a roadmap of torture had been carved in his alabaster skin; his nose was pouring blood, smashed into God knew how many pieces, his eyes, now closed, were already starting to swell and turn a purple-black color … they’d be swollen completely shut before long, she was sure.
 
Buffy turned back to Travers and glared at him as seething anger surfaced above her anguish. “You’re a sick, sadistic bastard,” she informed him, her voice deadly calm. “And we will kill you … you and every last one of your goons.”


 
Travers smiled at her. “Well, until that day comes, I suggest you mind your Ps and Qs, my dear … otherwise, those lovely baby blues will be on your dinner plate.”
 
With that, Travers nodded to the guards and they jerked Buffy away, she tried to send a message to Spike to tell him how sorry she was as they dragged her out … but he was too dazed to even open the bond.
 
“Spike! I’m sorry! God, Spike! I’m so sorry! Please forgive me!” Buffy called back over her shoulder before they slammed the door closed and hauled her back to her cell.
 
Once alone in her cell, her shackles removed, Buffy collapsed down onto her stomach on the cot and sobbed. What had been done to Spike before she’d made the attempt on Travers was bad enough … but she had to add to his pain and suffering. Buffy still hadn’t been able to get Bess the message to tell Billy where they were, and every minute that was wasted was another horror inflicted on Spike … and she didn’t know how many more he could stand.
 
“God, Spike … I’m so sorry,” Buffy cried into her pillow as the long slashes on her back began to turn black and blue and crusty scabs formed, which cracked open painfully every time she moved. Buffy tried to lay as still as possible, but her body shook with sobs, especially when she closed her eyes, because all she could see was Spike’s tortured and bloodied body behind her dark lids, all she could hear was the grotesque sound of the bat pulverizing Spike’s face and shattering his bones. She felt her stomach heave and fought the bile back as her tears fell in futile rivers from her eyes …
 
“Spike … I love you so much … I’m so, so sorry…”
 
**~**

{{Click here to hear "I Fight Authority” by John Cougar Mellencamp on YouTube  }}


They like to get you in a compromising position
They like to get you there and smile in your face
They think, they’re so cute when they got you in that condition
Well I think, it’s a total disgrace

Chorus:
I fight authority, authority always wins
I fight authority, authority always wins
I been doing it, since I was a young kid
I’ve come out grinnin’
I fight authority, authority always wins

So I call up my preacher
I say: gimme strength for round 5
He said: you don’t need no strength, you need to grow up, son
I said: growing up leads to growing old and then to dying,
And dying to me don’t sound like all that much fun

Chorus:
I fight authority, authority always wins
I fight authority, authority always wins
I been doing it, since I was a young kid
I’ve come out grinnin’
I fight authority, authority always wins

I fight authority, authority always wins
I fight authority, authority always wins
I been doing it, since I was a young kid
I’ve come out grinnin’
I fight authority, authority always wins
Oh no
Oh no
I fight authority, authority always wins

Chorus:
I fight authority, authority always wins
I fight authority, authority always wins
I been doing it, since I was a young kid
I’ve come out grinnin’

I fight authority, authority always wins
I fight authority, authority always wins
I fight authority, authority always wins
I been doing it, since I was a young kid
I’ve come out grinnin’
I fight authority, authority always wins
End Notes:
TBC .... Will Buffy and Spike's friends figure out where they are before it's too late to save either of them?
Je t'aime by Passion4Spike
Author's Notes:
Giles arrives at Council Headquarters looking for Spike and Buffy … will he find them?
**
Music Referenced:
Darling, Je Vous Aime Beaucoup - Natalie Cole
http://youtu.be/305CnE7ypOs
 **
ScreenCaps courtesy of ScreenCap Paradise:
http://www.screencap-paradise.com/?cat=3
**
 Special thanks to 'epd4' for betaing this chapter!!
(Later that same day) Monday, April 26th, 2010, 4:30pm, London:
 
“I’m sorry, Mr. Giles, Mr. Travers is in meetings the rest of the day,” the receptionist explained in Council Headquarters sometime later. “Your appointment was for three … you’re an hour and a half late.”
 
“I’m well aware of that,” Giles sighed. “However, I’m sure if you just tell Quentin that I am here now, he’ll want to see me.”
 
Giles had gotten worried that morning when Olivia dropped him off at the hotel where he was to meet Buffy and Spike to go over their plan one more time. He convinced the hotel manager to let him into their room and his worry grew when it became obvious that they hadn’t slept there since they’d arrived on Saturday evening. He followed their trail to the chippy just down the block, and, despite checking in every shop, restaurant, and café in a three block radius, he could find no one else that had seen them since Saturday night.
 
He rang their cell phones, of course, and left messages until their mailboxes were full – nothing. He’d called Willow and asked her to do a locator spell – nothing. He’d called Anya to see if anyone there had heard from them – nothing. Then he even ventured down into the sewers, both around the hotel and near the Watcher’s Council headquarters building … still he found no trace of them. He couldn’t imagine the two of them together meeting any vamps or demons here that they couldn’t handle, so that left just one other option – they’d gone into the Watcher’s Council alone, with no plan, and without telling anyone or leaving a note or even leaving a trail of breadcrumbs. Giles rolled his eyes at the thought – he really had thought they’d both matured enough to know better, but this was Spike and Buffy, after all; leap first, then look to see if there are any giant, angry alligators in the moat.
 
After spending the better part of the day looking for them, Giles decided to simply meet the enemy … or his only hope for who the enemy may be, head on and came in the front doors of the Council building … where he was stopped by the receptionist.
 
“I’m sorry, he’s …” the receptionist started.
 
“Yes, I know … in meetings the rest of the day. Perhaps Mr. Robson is available, then?” Giles interrupted.
 
“No … he’s in the field today,” the secretary informed him.
 
“Perhaps Philip?”
 
“Field…”
 
“Nigel?” Giles tried.
 
“Meetings…”
 
“Is anyone at all actually working here today?” Giles questioned sarcastically.

 

“Me…” the receptionist replied dryly as she picked up a ringing phone. “I’ll connect you, just one moment please…” she said into the receiver and Giles watched her transfer the call.
 
“Perhaps I could speak with whoever took that call?” Giles suggested.
 
“They’re on an important, international call just now …”
 
Giles’ brows rose. “Indeed … perhaps I could wait then.”
 
“If you’ll leave your number, I can have someone call you back tomorrow and you can make a new appointment…” the secretary suggested.
 
“Tomorrow?” Giles questioned, beginning to lose his patience. “That really doesn’t work for me … you see, I’d rather like a tour of your dungeons and I understand they’re much better viewed on Mondays. I hear it’s less crowded with tourists and the inmates aren’t as surly … wouldn’t you agree?”
 
The secretary looked at him with confusion. “I’m sure I have no idea what you’re talking about …”
 
“The funny thing is, I believe you … however, I’m not leaving until I see someone who does know what I’m talking about,” Giles insisted as he stepped past her desk and started down the hallway towards Travers’ office.
 
**~**
 

Spike sat in silence, his hands gripping the heavy wood of the chair he was strapped to so tightly that his fingernails were bleeding as he concentrated with all his strength on the day Annie was born. He tried to fill his mind with the joy that he felt when Buffy named her after his mother; tried to remember every detail of that day: how Buffy swore she’d never do that again … what had she said? Spike tried to remember exactly, something about guts for garters and accusing him of not having a soul, ‘cos if he did, he would’ve just killed her in her sleep like any respectable vamp; he tried to remember what Joyce was wearing, how she had her hair fixed, what perfume she had on … every detail. He could still see how proud and touched she was when Buffy told her the baby’s middle name.
 
Weatherby smiled ruefully as he pushed another red-hot, sharpened steel rod through the flesh of Spike’s thigh. Spike gripped the chair even harder and the vision he was trying to hold onto of Annie’s day of birth faded to blood red behind his closed eyelids as another sharp, burning bolt of pain shot through his body. Spike had lost count … was that six or seven? He couldn’t remember and his eyes were swollen shut from the baseball bat punishment earlier … he couldn’t even see to count them. Spike still hadn’t screamed even once … unlike Kralik who seemed to do nothing but scream and say that he didn’t know where the fucking Gem was, that Spike had it last, and complain that this punishment wasn’t fair.
 
Spike reckoned Weatherby really didn’t care about the Gem or what was fair … all he wanted was to inflict pain – all he wanted was to hear the screams and wank off as his victims called him ‘master’ and begged him to stop. But Spike didn’t beg, he didn’t moan, he didn’t talk, and he most assuredly didn’t call the sick bastard ‘master’. He couldn’t stop his body from reacting to the pain, couldn’t stop it from trembling and tensing up with each new torture, but he could take his mind elsewhere … most of the time. Spike wondered when the wanking off would end and Weatherby’d start using him and Kralik to get his pleasure with … Weatherby still seemed to be just playing with them … nothing life threatening or permanently debilitating, and he hadn’t touched any of Spike’s dangly bits … yet. Spike had no doubt that it was just a matter of time, though, as the game escalated.
 
As Weatherby turned his attention to Kralik and the larger vamp again started screaming and begging for him to stop and insisting this wasn’t fair, Spike thought about Buffy and his anger rose again. He could handle beatings and tortures, but to see Buffy beaten and bloodied hurt him more than Weatherby ever could with any of his toys.  Spike clenched his jaw against the pain that swelled up from his soul and fought back the tears that puddled behind his swollen lids, lest Weatherby think that he had induced them. If he lived to be a million, the vision of the woman he loved more than life itself, beaten, bleeding, in pain – her clothes tattered, her beautiful, soft skin ravaged from the whips … he’d never be able to get that out of his mind. The pain in her eyes would haunt his nightmares forever, of that he was sure.
 
As Kralik continued to scream under Weatherby’s attention, Spike forced his mind to think of Bess. He wondered if she had been able to get a message to Billy yet … he hoped so, for Buffy’s sake and the sake of the baby. He knew firsthand how painful a beating like Buffy had gotten was, and he knew that even with Slayer healing, the pain would last for a long while and the chance for infection was unbelievably high, especially if they didn’t give her any antibiotics or clean the wounds. His only hope was that Travers wanted that baby more than he wanted to punish Buffy … but he was turning out to be an unpredictable, sadist motherfucker … which didn’t fill Spike’s heart with a lot of hope that he’d do anything to make sure Buffy was ok, especially after the beating Buffy had apparently given him.
 
“Well, gentlemen,” Weatherby announced to them as he finished poking the last of the metal rods through Kralik’s flesh. “That’ll have to do it for today … but don’t worry, tomorrow will be here before you know it! I know you’ll miss me, but duty calls. Must get home to the little woman…”
 
“You aren’t gonna leave us like this!” Kralik exclaimed, panic rising in his voice at the thought of being strapped to these chairs all night with metal rods sticking in the flesh of his thighs.
 
Spike could hear the satisfaction in Weatherby’s voice when he informed Kralik that that was, indeed, the plan and bid them both good night, as if they were co-workers and the five o’clock whistle had just blown.
 
“This is your fault! Just tell them where it is, you fucking ass!” Kralik screamed at Spike.
 
Spike snorted softly and forced his body to relax as he released the grip he had on the arms of the chair, flexing his fingers to try and get some feeling back in them. “Sod off.”
 
**~**
 
When the guards left after giving Buffy her dinner, she lay gingerly back down on her stomach on her cot and tried to breathe through the pain that seemed to explode through every cell in her body. The deep wounds on her back would ooze clear liquid then dry, and her tattered clothes would stick to them, then when she moved the least bit, it would tear them open again. She couldn’t remember anything hurting this badly for this long … when the uber-vamps had nearly ripped her into little pieces in the Hellmouth it had been excruciating, but it had gone to dull throb within a couple of hours and she had been nearly back to normal by the next night. The only thing that came close was when her shoulder had been shredded by the werewolf in limbo … but even that wasn’t this bad – this covered nearly the whole back of her body, from her shoulders down to her knees – she couldn’t move anything without sending sharp pains stabbing through her entire body, which caused her to tense up, which just sent more agonizing bolts of pain radiating out from the lash marks.
 
Buffy had tried to contact Spike since she’d been dragged back to her cell after Travers finished his ‘Miss Manners’ impersonation … but her husband never opened the bond. She couldn’t wait to get her hands on Travers again … the next time she wouldn’t leave him dazed and confused on the ground, the next time she would make sure she finished what she started. She had given up trying to talk to Bess, obviously the girl couldn’t hear her through the heavy metal doors. She had no idea how to get a message to her now … how to tell her to tell Billy where they were. Buffy thought about their friends and family and wondered if Travers had gotten the ‘tragic accident’ and burned body staged yet. Had their friends been told they were dead? Were their children sick with grief right this minute? Were they crying and heartbroken … hurt, angry, confused? Tears sprang to her eyes at the thought of Annie, Dani, and Billy being told that their parents were dead and would never be coming back…
 
Buffy looked up from her cot when she heard someone walking down the hall whistling … seriously? Whistling a jaunty tune? In here? She watched as Weatherby walked past like he hadn’t a care in the world … in fact, he looked like he might’ve just won the lottery or something. Buffy closed her eyes and dropped her head back on her pillow. Was everyone who worked here completely insane? Was there not one decent human being in this whole place … not one person with the ability to feel empathy or see the wrongness of the whole thing? Apparently not – these were demons, after all, well all except her. They weren’t people, they were monsters; evil, vile creatures, they didn’t have feelings. The vamps were just lab rats – in fact, she figured that most lab rats were actually treated better; their only purpose in life to do the bidding of their keepers.
 
Buffy thought back to when she was first Chosen … before she knew Angel, before she knew Spike. Would she have given any of these prisoners a second thought? Would she have felt any empathy for the soulless monsters? She knew Spike, even ‘soulless’, was different than most vamps, but still… all vamps were nothing but innocent victims at one time, even Angelus. They were all someone’s child, someone’s husband or wife or lover … someone’s mother or father, just unlucky enough to cross paths with another unlucky person who’d had their life and innocence stolen. And, as Spike had pointed out more than once, and Buffy had seen with her own eyes, they don’t lose their old selves just because they’re turned …
 
She’d never given it a lot of thought before now, but it occurred to her that most vamps were probably somewhere in between Angelus and Spike. The two vamps she’d known intimately in her life were probably at the two ends of the spectrum – soulless Angel was a cruel bastard who had no empathy, seemingly no real feelings for anyone other than himself; Spike, on the other hand, was capable of a rainbow of feelings, from intense hatred to undying love and loyalty.
 
Buffy’s mind went back to Bess … she’d been in this place for over a century … over a century! It was honestly more than Buffy could wrap her mind around. Even if she was just an ‘average’ vamp, with ‘average’ feelings, how hard must that have been to endure and keep her sanity? Bess was only fourteen when she entered this dungeon … now she was a hundred and ten! Buffy suddenly understood with complete clarity why Bess attacked her in Billy’s dream; Buffy had been here less than forty-eight hours and she’d already attacked Travers and would be willing to rip anyone’s throat out that she could get her hands on at this point.


 
Buffy … Spike called to her through the bond, pulling her from her thoughts. Buffy are you ok, luv?
 
Oh God! Spike! Are you alright?! I’m so sorry! It’s all my fault! she practically screamed back to him, relief that he was still lucid enough to contact her flooding her heart.
 
Not your fault, luv … Travers, Spike assured her. Are you ok?
 
My back smarts a little, Buffy lied. Spike, how are we gonna get out of here? I haven’t been able to talk to Bess …
 
No worries, luv. I talked to her earlier; she knows what to do, Spike assured her.
 
You did? When? Spike, what happened today? Where’s the Gem? What’s going on? Buffy’s mind rattled off questions in rapid succession.
 
Spike was happy for the distraction from the pain in his body. He kept the bond only open a crack, not wanting her to feel any of his pain, as he told her what had happened that day in the white room with Bess, and the fight with Kralik and how the crazy vamp had gotten the Gem of Amarra away from Spike.
 
Spike, what happened to the Gem? Buffy questioned.
 
Spike hesitated. Do you think … do you think the wankers can hear us? Spike questioned.
 
I … I don’t know. No one else ever could… Buffy replied as she mulled that possibility around in her mind. But they seem to have been one step ahead of us the whole way …
 
Yeah … that worries me, pet,
Spike agreed. I think we should … censor what we say, yeah?
 
Buffy nodded slightly. Yeah … ok. Spike?
 
Yeah, luv?
 
They want the Gem, don’t they? That’s why they’ve got you in there, isn’t it?
 
Partly…
Spike admitted.
 
Just give it to them! Spike, please! I can take anything but losing you … please just give it to them! Buffy begged him.
 
Don’t ‘ave it, pet … Don’t think it would matter now, anyway. They aren’t gonna let me go … Gem or no Gem, Spike admitted.
 
Spike, please!
 
Buffy, they want it too much … I don’t know why … not sure what they think they can do with it, but Travers wants it bad, and I really ain’t in the mood to give him a bloody thing – even if I had it,
Spike told her.
 
Spike… Buffy sighed worriedly. Please … we can get it back later…it won’t do either of us any good if you’re… gone.
 
Sorry, luv … I can’t do it; won’t do it. It’s not gonna make a difference; Travers won’t let me outta here no matter what.

 
Buffy sighed and moved her arm to rub her swollen, tired, and gritty eyes and pain shot through her body.

 

Buffy! What happened? Weatherby? Travers? Spike questioned worriedly as he felt the pain through their bond, his body jerking involuntarily along with hers.
 
Buffy breathed through the bolts of agony that shot out from her back when she moved and gently laid her arm back down on the cot and tried not to move any more. No … just … just smarts a little when I move…
 
Spike felt the anger rise in him again … that wasn’t ‘smarting a little’. He knew she was lying when she said that before, but he didn’t realize how much she was lying. That hurt like a son-of-a-bitch. Has anyone cleaned the wounds, pet? Given you any antibiotics? he questioned her.
 
No… I’m alright … I’ll be alright. Don’t worry – I’ve had worse injuries than a few little scratches on my back, Buffy tried to assure him.
 
God, Buffy … I’m so sorry …
 
You didn’t do it …
she pointed out.
 
But I didn’t stop it, either … Spike offered, still feeling guilty for not smelling the trap that had gotten them captured in the first place soon enough to do anything about it.
 
Buffy snorted softly. He was the one in the torture chamber and he was worried about her? Make you a deal, Buffy replied, when we get out of here, you can kiss my boo-boos and make them all better … and I’ll kiss yours … ok?
 
Despite how much it hurt, Spike had to smile a little. Deal, pet. Right after I kick Travers’ ass…
 
Get in line.

 
**~**
 
“Philip, I hope, for your sake, that this call is to tell me that you’ve found that Gem,” Travers hissed into the speaker phone. It was nearly five in the afternoon – they’d been looking for the Gem of Amarra nearly all day … since the fight between Spike and Kralik.  
 
“Sir, I assure you, we’ve searched all three of the demons, we have scoured the white room for it … torn it apart, it’s simply not there!” Philip defended. “We’ve looked a hundred times!”
 
“Well then look a hundred more and don’t leave until you’ve found it! My plan won’t work without it! I need that Gem!” Travers screamed at him. “It couldn’t have vanished into thin air! Find it! Find it now!” Travers ordered the Watcher before slamming his fist down on the phone and disconnecting the call.
 
Travers hadn’t known that William the Bloody had the legendary Gem … that put a serious kink in his plan to keep the rogue Slayer’s friends away. He needed to show them the Gem for them to believe the Slayer and her demon lover were dead and gone.  Showing them Buffy’s burned body was a piece of cake … he had that all set to go, but her friends would know something was wrong if he gave them nothing but dust for the vampire; not without being able to show them the Gem … which another vamp had torn from his body.

 

“So, they are here …” Giles stated dryly as he stepped into Travers’ office after overhearing the phone call from outside the door. “And I see you got too close to … I’m guessing … Spike? No … you’d be dead if it was Spike … Buffy then,” the ex-Watcher observed based on the bludgeoned face, swollen nose, and blacken eyes of the Council Head.
 
“Rupert … how nice of you to stop by,” Travers started as if talking to an old friend – quickly recovering from the surprise of him walking in unannounced.
 
“Where are they?” Giles demanded, stepping closer to Travers.
 
“They’re quite alright, I assure you,” Quentin offered in a friendly tone as he kept the desk between himself and Giles.
 
“Indeed … well then, why don’t you send for them and we’ll be on our way, then,” Giles suggested, still moving closer to the Council Head.
 
“Oh … I’m afraid that’s quite impossible; they’re tucked in for the evening,” Travers hedged.
 
Giles moved faster than Travers expected him to be able to and was behind the desk with a tight grip on Travers’ throat before Quentin could move.

 

“I demand that you release them immediately,” Ripper growled at his old boss, tightening his grip on Quentin’s throat.
 
“You … are … in … no … position … to … make … demands…” Travers gasped out past Giles’ grip.
 
“On the contrary, I believe I’m in the perfect position…” Giles started when he heard the door to Travers’ office open. He turned just in time to be hit by a nightstick on the back of the neck. Giles released Travers as another blow came down on the top of his head and he fell to his knees on the floor.
 
Travers rubbed his throat and moved away from the downed ex-Watcher. “What took you imbeciles so blasted long!?” he rasped out as the two guards pulled Giles back from behind the desk and towards the door.
 
“We were in the white room looking for that soddin’ Gem when the alarm sounded,” one of them began.
 
“I don’t pay you to make excuses; I pay you for results! I pay you to keep lunatics out of my office!” Travers exclaimed angrily, giving Giles’ prone body a swift kick in the ribs.
 
Giles let out an, “Ooof,” when Travers kicked him, moving one hand from the back of his neck to his bruised ribs and trying to get his head to stop spinning.
 
“Get him out of here! Take him downstairs.” Travers ordered as he moved back behind his desk sat down heavily in the chair.
 
“I … demand … to see … Buffy,” Giles gritted out as the guards grabbed him under his armpits and began dragging him out of the office.
 
“You demand!? You demand?!” Travers exclaimed angrily as he stood up. Travers narrowed his eyes and thought a moment. “Fine – you can join your insolent Slayer … I’m sure you’ll enjoy our accommodations as much as she has,” Travers agreed.
 
"Let him see his Slayer … they can be roommates…” he instructed the guards.
 
The two guards looked at each other momentarily confused … this guy didn’t look like a vamp, but they weren’t gonna argue with their boss at this point. They’d been yelled at enough for one day, so they dragged Giles to the elevators that lead down under the Council headquarters. One guard used his key to open the hidden control panel and pressed the button for the lowest level – the dungeon.
 
**~**
 
Spike kept the bond open with Buffy as he tried to keep both their minds off the pain they were in. Comforting her helped him keep his mind off the metal rods that were embedded in his thigh and his demolished nose and the gaping wound in his chest and all the other cuts, scrapes, punctures, and burns that covered his body. He sang his mother’s lullaby to her through the bond and Buffy relaxed a bit, but it was hard to actually sleep since every time she moved pain engulfed her like a typhoon engulfing a small, Pacific atoll… completely and utterly.
 
She felt like one huge, swollen, festering wound … every inch of her body hurt and she had broken out in a sweat, despite the cool air of the dungeon. She knew that feeling … she’d had it before, freezing and sweating at the same time, she was getting a fever – she had an infection. God only knew what bacteria and viruses and other nasty things had embedded in her flesh from those whips. She was pretty sure they didn’t actually clean and disinfect them between beatings … there was definitely no Lysol spray or antibacterial soap or hand sanitizers used down here…
 
Teach me something in French, Buffy requested through their bond, trying to keep herself from thinking about the germs that were multiplying in her wounds and keep Spike talking.
 
French, eh? Spike sent back. Let’s see … Je t'aime, ma chérie.
 
Je t'aime, ma chérie,
Buffy repeated back.
 
No … you say, Je t'aime, mon chérie, Spike corrected to the masculine.
 
Je t'aime, mon chérie, Buffy repeated. I love you, my darling. Even Buffy knew that from the French class she had in high school … wow, that seemed like three lifetimes ago, at least.
 
Je t'aime, mon chérie, Buffy repeated again.
 
Mon dieu que je t'aime, Spike sent.
 
Mon dieu que je t'aime, Buffy replied. I love you so much.
 
Ahhhh … see, you know more French than you’re lettin’ on, yeah? Been holdin’ out on ole Spike, you have,
Spike accused playfully.
 
Buffy smiled a little. Well … I have to keep you on your toes.
 
Je t’aime beaucoup,
Spike tossed back.
 
I love you tons and tons! Buffy translated.
 
Uhhh … takin’ some liberties there; not sure that’s a literal translation, luv, Spike teased.
 
Well, maybe not, Buffy agreed. If my French was good enough, I’d tell you how much I love you … even more than tons and tons. I love you so much, Spike … tell me we’re gonna get out of here.
 
À cœur vaillant rien d’impossible,
Spike sent. For a brave heart, nothing is impossible.
 


God, I hope that’s true,
Buffy replied, blinking back tears. I think my heart’s about the only thing that hasn’t been folded, spindled, or mutilated by these … these merde-heads! .
 
Buffy stopped ‘talking’ when she heard someone approaching. Someone’s coming… she sent to Spike as she slowly turned her head to see who it was.
 
“Giles!” Buffy exclaimed when he and the guards came into view. She tried to push up off her cot, but she’d stiffened up while she was laying still and when she moved all her wounds cracked open again, sending stinging, sharp pains through her whole body. “Oh, God …” she moaned as she fell back down, clenching her eyes closed against the pain and trying to keep the tears that welled in them at bay.
 
“Buffy! Dear Lord! What have you done to her?!” Giles demanded to know when he saw her ripped and tattered clothing and the oozing wounds covering her back and legs, his own injuries forgotten.
 
The guards didn’t answer, they simply unlocked Buffy’s cell door and tossed Giles in, shoving him hard enough to make him stumble and fall on the hard stone and dirt floor. The ex-Watcher scrambled over to his Slayer as she tried to breathe through the pain and keep the guards from seeing any tears in her eyes. She didn’t want to give them that satisfaction. She could feel Spike ‘knocking’, but wouldn’t open the bond … not yet, not until the agony got down to simply unbearable again.

 

“Dear Lord, Buffy…” Giles uttered softly as he laid a hand on her arm … away from the wounds. “What have they done?”
 
“Just a … visit from … ‘Mr. Manners’ … and his goon squad,” Buffy croaked out, finally opening her eyes and meeting his. “Apparently they don’t believe in time-outs here …”
 
“Indeed …” Giles agreed, shaking his head and surveying the damage the guards had done with their whips. “You’re burning up…” he observed, moving his hand from her arm to her forehead.
 
“Yeah … not only that, I haveta pee really bad,” Buffy moaned. She’d been holding it forever, trying to figure out how to get up and to the chamber pot … there was no way. The thought of moving or trying to get her jeans down was enough to make her hold it longer ... but she was nearly at her limit.
 
Giles looked around the sparse cell – no water, nothing to clean her wounds with, no toilet.
 
“Well … you see, good things do come to those who wait,” a terse voice came from behind them – it was Travers.
 
Giles stood up, turned around and crossed the short distance between them quickly, hitting the cell bars at full speed, but Travers was just out of reach … he’d learned that lesson all too well a bit earlier.
 
“Tsk, tsk …” Travers scolded Giles. “Just ask your Slayer what happens when you don’t mind your manners.”
 
“What is it you want?!” Giles demanded of his ex-boss, anger seething just beneath the surface.
 
Travers smiled smugly and turned his eyes to Buffy. “Just a little prophecy … due to arrive on … oh, I’m going to take a wild guess and say October 9th …” Travers began. “The Prophetic Child of Santo Veritas … ‘A seer of truth shall be born under the crescent moon, during the harvest’s bounty, on the day that falls one short of the month and the year. The seventh child, a daughter of fire, born to the fair, immortal warriors, guarded by the sign of Libra, shall see the truth through a veil of lies, uncover the darkness shrouded by the light, and possess the power to tip the scales.’”



Giles furrowed his brow and looked back at Buffy, who hadn’t moved but was listening as well. Giles turned back to Travers and narrowed his eyes. “I knew Cambridge was second-rate, Quentin, but even a pillock like you can count to four. The ‘fair immortal warriors,’ as you call them, have but three children … this will be the fourth…”
 
Travers shook his head, the smug look never leaving his face. “Quite clever, they were … hiding the other three in the past; but not clever enough. Did you really think I wouldn’t find them, Rupert? Do you all think me such a fool?”
 
Giles opened his mouth to answer the last question, but thought better of it and closed it. His mind whirled, considering Travers’ contention that this was the seventh child. Wasn’t that what they were doing here in the first place? Rescuing one of the Weckerly children … one from the distant past?
 
“With this child we will hold the power of the scales and soon we will have the key to creating even more powerful Slayers … our army will conquer the demons, rid the earth of their scourge, once and for all …” the Council Head announced triumphantly. “My name will be legendary… ‘Quentin Travers’ will be remembered for all time as the man that, after countless millennium, did more than simply fight the battle, but won the war against the demons.”
 
“Indeed …” Giles intoned dryly, turning his eyes back to Buffy as his mind worked. Power to tip the scales… Travers was assuming that meant in the favor of good … but hadn’t Buffy just paid a heavy price because the scales were already tipped too far to the side of good? What if this child signaled the next … Armageddon? What if the power she possessed was being brought forth to tip the scales back to the side of evil? And was this even the child spoken of in the Veritas Prophecy? Was she actually the seventh child, or the fourth? For that matter, was it even a ‘she’?

 

Giles put those thoughts aside for the moment … he had five months to figure all that out – but first they had to find a way to get out of here … and Buffy needed help soon or the prophecy could be moot.
 
“So, what do you suppose your legend will be when you let the prophetic child die?” Giles questioned, raising his brows and turning his eyes back to Travers.
 
Travers narrowed his eyes and looked past Giles to where Buffy lay motionless on the cot.
 
“Apparently, your lesson in manners included e.coli … or perhaps staph … or did you acquire the Black Death or the Bubonic Plague along with your cute little medieval playhouse?” Giles hissed. “I must say, the festering wounds on her back do add a certain charm … a ‘je ne sais quoi’, if you will, to the place.”
 
“She’s a Slayer! She’ll heal!” Travers insisted, waving his arm at Buffy dismissively.
 
Giles pulled his glasses off and polished them a moment before sliding them back on and looking up at Travers. “Yes … I’m certain you are correct. I’m sure it wouldn’t matter if she miscarries the fetus as her body does all it can to heal itself and fight the infection.”
 
Travers stared at Giles for several long moments, and then looked back at Buffy, who still hadn’t moved or spoken at all. Not one quip … not one barb or threat thrown his way.
 
“Very well then …” Travers acquiesced finally, looking back at Giles.
 
“You can be her nursemaid … I will hold you personally accountable if anything happens to that Prophecy!” the Council Head threatened before turning on his heal and heading back the way he’d come. “Someone will be by shortly – you tell them what you need,” he called over his shoulder.
 
Giles turned quickly and went back over to Buffy and knelt on the floor next to the cot. “Hold on, Buffy … we’ll have some ointments and antibiotics quite soon, I’d imagine,” he assured her.
 
Buffy nodded slightly. “You might want to get some clean clothes and sheets, too … I peed my pants,” she admitted as tears of frustration stung her eyes.
 
“That’s quite alright,” Giles assured her. “We all have that problem as we get older… You must realize you’re not as young as you used to be.”
 
Buffy couldn’t help but snort out a soft laugh through her tears, but winced in pain when Giles touched one of the oozing slashes on her back.
 
“Buffy … I’m going to have to get your clothes off you. I won’t lie to you – it’s going to hurt like a … well, it’s going to hurt quite a lot, but I have to clean these wounds and put ointment on them to quell the infection,” Giles explained.
 
Buffy nodded her agreement, then asked, “How long until Faith gets here?”
 
“Faith?” Giles repeated, confused.
 
“Yeah … she called you, right? She let you know where we were?” Buffy explained.
 
“Uhhh … no, not exactly. I simply assumed…” Giles admitted.
 
“Oh … but you told her where you were going to look for us, right?”
 
“Well … ummmm, no, not exactly,” Giles reported hesitantly.
 
“Giles … you did tell someone where you were going, right?” Buffy questioned.
 
“Well, I …” Giles began and paused, removing his glasses and rubbing his eyes. He’d done exactly the same thing that he had been cursing Buffy and Spike for – he hadn’t told anyone where he was going. “No,” he admitted at last.
 
Buffy sighed heavily. “Swell… so we’re back to hoping Bess can get a message to Billy and Billy can get a message to Faith…”
 
Giles stood up when he heard someone approaching. A woman in a white lab coat stopped outside the cell and began jotting notes on a pad of paper.
 
“I assume you’ll need antiseptic, soap, clean water, and bandages, gauze, antibiotic cream, an oral broad-spectrum antibiotic, ibuprofen, some loose fitting clothing …” the woman started, looking up from her pad to Giles and raising her brows.
 
“Scissors to cut her clothing off,” Giles added to the list. “And new sheets for the cot … and … another cot… perhaps we could moved to somewhere … more suitable – cleaner?” he suggested.
 
“I was told to get you supplies … moving wasn’t part of it,” the woman informed Giles as she wrote down the other items he listed.
 
“Indeed … well, perhaps a light of some sort, so I can see to tend to her wounds…” the ex-Watcher added.
 
“And chocolate…” came from behind Giles.
 
“And several chocolate bars,” Giles repeated. “Cadbury Fudge … and some Flakes and Crunchies … oh, and a couple of Wispas too.”

 

The woman rolled her eyes but wrote it down on the list before turning and heading out to get the supplies, as per Travers’ order.
 
When Giles went back over and knelt down next to Buffy, she turned her head to look him in the eye.
 
“Did you know about this prophecy?” Buffy asked solemnly.
 
Giles shook his head slightly and shrugged. “I … I’ve heard of it. I certainly never equated it with … you and Spike or this child,” he admitted.
 
“Travers doesn’t know about the scales, does he?” Buffy continued.
 
Giles shook his head slightly. “Apparently not.”
 
“This baby could … she could bring on … Armageddon,” Buffy stammered out, not wanting to think it, let alone say it aloud.
 
Giles gave her a wan smile, meant to comfort her. “Buffy, every child born has some chance of growing up and being … well, evil; and as a parent, all we can do is our best to make sure that our child doesn’t go down the wrong road. There’s no reason to believe that this child is even the one spoken of in the prophecy. And … you know as well as I, that prophecies are made to be broken … I wouldn’t put too much stake in what an insane Cambridge man thinks…” Giles assured her. “I recall one irrefutable prophecy that said the Master would kill the Slayer…”
 
“And I remember the deadness caused by the Master!” Buffy argued. “Well … I don’t actually remember being dead that time, but I remember the fun part right before that and my brand new, dry clean only dress getting totally ruined!”
 
“And yet, here you are … the prophecy was thwarted,” Giles pointed out. “Let’s not … let’s not worry about that just now, I believe we have enough on our plates without worrying about something that may or may not happen in the distant future…”
 
“Worry about today and let tomorrow take care of itself,” Buffy repeated what she’d told Spike a couple of days ago. That was getting harder and harder to actually do, though.
 
“Indeed …” Giles agreed, taking off his glasses and rubbing the bridge of his nose.
 
“I’m not really gonna lose the baby, am I? I mean … the protection spell should keep it safe, shouldn’t it?” Buffy questioned. “You just said that to make Travers do what you wanted … right?”

 

Giles sighed and slipped his glasses back on and met her eyes with his. The worried and distressed look on his face, along with his hesitation, spoke volumes to Buffy. “I … I don’t know,” he finally stuttered out. “The protection spell is to protect it from outside forces. If your own body rejects it as it puts all its energy into healing … if you miscarry, I don’t know that the spell will stop that.”
 
Despite the pain, Buffy turned onto her side away from Giles and wrapped her arms around her abdomen and the baby growing there, unable to stop the tears from falling any longer. Even with the prophecy looming, it was still their child; a baby made of Buffy and William and they loved it from the moment they realized its existence, and nothing would ever change that. Had their zeal to rescue one daughter cost them the one and only good thing that had come out of the five years she spent living alone as the Vengeance Demon Slayer? Had the years Spike spent living through the horrors of limbo and hell been for absolutely nothing? How could she tell Spike that her rash decision to attack Travers may have not only gotten him punished, but cost them their miracle child? She knew Spike would say it wasn’t her fault, that it was Travers and his goons … but she knew that Spike’s heart, William’s heart, would break all the same, just as she felt hers breaking now, if anything happened to their unborn bit.
 
**~**


{{Click here to hear "Darling, Je Vous Aime Beaucoup” by Natalie Cole on YouTube  }}


Darling, je vous aime beaucoup
Je ne sais pas what to do
You know you've completely
Stolen my heart

Morning, noon and night-time too
Toujours, wondering what to do
That's the way I've felt
Right from the start

Ah, Chèrie
My love for you is très, très fort
Wish my French were good enough
I'd tell you so much more

But I hope that you compris
All the things you mean to me
Darling, je vous aime beaucoup
I love you, yes I do

Wish my French were good enough
I'd tell you so much more

But I hope that you compris
All the things you mean to me
Darling, je vous aime beaucoup
I love you, yes I do

(Darling, je vous aime beaucoup)
I love you, yes I do
End Notes:
TBC ... Hope you lked the short respite from the really gory violence ... don't get too used to it. I promise, however, that the really gory stuff will not last much longer, so if you're not a fan of it, just hang in a bit longer and it will be over.
Iron Maiden by Passion4Spike
Author's Notes:
Giles treats Buffy’s wounds while Spike tries to keep his resolve and the location of the Gem to himself. Will Travers find a way to break him where Weatherby failed?
**
Warnings for more gore, violence and bloodshed.
**
Music Referenced:
Iron Maiden by Iron Maiden
http://youtu.be/syhah1tNqoU
 **
ScreenCaps courtesy of ScreenCap Paradise:
http://www.screencap-paradise.com/?cat=3
**
Special thanks to 'epd4' for betaing this chapter!!
(Later that night), Monday, April 26th, 2010, 11:30pm, London:

As Buffy and Giles waited for someone to come back with the things he’d requested, Buffy told him what had happened over the last couple of days … had it only been a couple of days? Giles said it was just Monday evening … Buffy and Spike had come down here Saturday night – it seemed much, much longer.

“So … our rescue depends on a soulless vampire who’s been loaded with Phenobarbital and a six year old boy?” Giles questioned at last.

“Yeah … that pretty much sums it up,” Buffy agreed with an eye roll that Giles couldn’t see.

When the supplies arrived, Giles worked on washing Buffy’s wounds and trying to loosen the tattered remains of her clothing from where it was stuck to the scabs. Buffy gritted her teeth and buried her face against her pillow as the clean water both stung her wounds and cooled her fevered skin, making her feel like she was freezing to death while being stabbed by hundreds of sharp icicles. She wanted desperately to open the bond with Spike, just to feel him near her, but knew that he’d be able to feel what she was feeling if she did that … so she kept it closed. He had enough of his own pain … she didn’t want to add to it, and she wasn’t practiced enough at opening the bond ‘just a little’ like he was – she’d lost five years worth of practice with it.

When Giles had gotten as much of her back cleaned and free from her clothing as he could, he used the scissors to cut her jeans and shirt up the seams on both sides. He then took the clean sheets that they had been given and hung them up the best he could on the bars of the cell to try and give Buffy a little privacy for what he had to do next.

“Buffy, I’ve loosened all that I can, but I’m afraid pulling your clothing off is going to be painful no matter what I do … but it must be done,” Giles warned her.

Buffy nodded and gripped the thin mattress that she was laying on. “I know … go ahead.”

“On three then,” Giles suggested and Buffy nodded, closing her eyes, burying her face against the small pillow, and holding on to the small cot for dear life.
 
Giles stood next to where she lay on the cot and got a good hold of the waistband of her jeans in one hand and the bottom hem of her t-shirt in the other. “One … two …” On ‘two’, Giles pulled the back half of her clothing off, ripping it as quickly as he could from her ravaged back.



Buffy screamed out in surprise and agony and her head shot up off the pillow from the searing pain of the scabs being ripped open again; it felt like a hundred dull, burning knives were stabbing into her body at once, all along the long lengths of the lash marks. Buffy’s whole body tensed as she held onto the small cot and tried to breathe through the pain that shot through her as unbidden tears welled in her eyes.

She tried to think of something happy … tried to think of Spike’s arms holding her, of his voice whispering his love as she tried to counteract the physical pain with mental calm … it wasn’t really working.

Giles tossed the back half of her clothes on the floor before kneeling down next to her. Her whole body was trembling from holding onto the cot so tightly and Giles laid a hand on one of her wrists. “Let go of the cot, Buffy… I believe the worst is over – try to relax,” he advised her quietly, pulling on her wrist.


Buffy finally forced her hands to release their grip on the small mattress. “Remind me to give you a ‘Count von Count’ video for Christmas. Your counting sucks,” she finally whispered to Giles.



“I’m sorry ... but I thought it would be better that way,” Giles explained.

“Even the Tootsie-Pop owl made it all the way to three!” Buffy complained as she dried her tears on her pillow and took deep shuddering breaths.

“Who?” Giles questioned as he began examining her wounds more carefully … they were oozing blood and yellow pus in the places her clothing had ripped the scabs open and they already had a definite stench of infection coming from them. It was actually worse than he originally feared. The tattered remains of her clothing had hidden the deep purple bruises that had formed along the length of each wound, which crisscrossed her back like a satanic game of Tic-Tac-Toe. With deep red slashes atop a dark purple background, all her captors needed were red-hot branding irons in the shape of an “X” and an “O” to make the game complete.




“Never mind …” Buffy moaned, dropping her face back onto her pillow as Giles pushed the image of Lucifer with a branding iron from his mind and began applying antiseptic to her wounds. He should’ve asked for ice to help the bruising and swelling … perhaps if the woman came back he could get some then.

“Sorry…” Giles muttered his apologies over and over as he cleaned the wounds, wincing along with her each time he touched the cotton balls with the medicine down on her skin.

Buffy just kept her face buried in her pillow as her hands gripped the sides of the cot while Giles worked. It seemed to hurt just as much as the flogging itself each time the antiseptic stung her back, but she knew it needed to be done, everything that could be done to help her body heal needed to be done, so she just tried to breathe through it and stay as still as she could. She’d never forgive herself if she lost this baby. Behind her closed lids she could see the hurt and disappointment that would be in Spike’s eyes if she lost their child … he’d never say it, of course, but she knew that it would be her fault and she couldn’t let that happen. She couldn’t let him down … she couldn’t let the promise of the life she carried be wasted. Giles was right … prophecies, like rules, were meant to be broken, and if anyone could break them, it was her and Spike. This child deserved a chance at life … and she, by God, was going to give it that chance no matter what that meant she had to endure. The possibility that Spike wouldn’t be there with her to raise their child, or may not even live long enough to see it born, or that they would both still be in the dungeon and their baby would be raised by the Council, scurried around in the shadows of her mind like a hungry rat, not wanting to come into the light of day, but not wanting to leave lest some fodder be tossed its way.

Giles worked as quickly as he could, cleaning all the infection from the wounds that covered the back half of her body from her shoulders to her knees. When he’d completed that, he applied an ointment to the slashes that would help keep the infection away and also keep her clothes from sticking to the scabs.

“Okay,” he began as he finished applying the ointment. “She brought you a couple of hospital type gowns to put on,” he told Buffy, holding up two open-in-the-back cotton gowns for Buffy to see. “I suggest putting one on forwards and one on backwards …”

Buffy nodded her agreement and began to push up off the cot and Giles turned his back to allow her to put the gowns on with as much privacy as possible. Buffy gritted her teeth and took deep breaths as she pushed up off the cot, the wounds on her back actually felt better with the ointment … either that or she was just getting used to unbearable agony, she wasn’t sure which. When she tried to stand, however, renewed pain shot out from her bruised and battered knees and they buckled when she put weight on them. Buffy screamed out as she fell to the floor, landing with all her weight on her knees and struggling to lean forward onto the cot to keep from wallowing her newly cleaned back on the dirt of the floor.



“Dear Lord!” Giles exclaimed as he turned around quickly at the sound of her distress and pulled her up off the floor and helped her lay back down on her stomach on the cot.

When the pain subsided, Buffy admitted solemnly, “I’m gonna need help. My knees are … fucked up.”

Giles didn’t even realize she had an injury to her knees, his whole focus had been on her infected wounds. “I’m sorry, Buffy – I didn’t know…”

“It’s not your fault … I had just about forgotten about them – until I tried to stand up. I guess that old pain remedy really does work,” Buffy observed.



“What old remedy?” Giles pondered, his brows furrowed as he picked up one of the gowns.



“You know, the best way to make one thing stop hurting is to make something else hurt worse …” Buffy quipped.

Giles rolled his eyes as he threaded one of her arms through one of the gowns, then the other arm, covering her back.

“Do you think you can sit … or roll over onto your back?” he questioned.

“I’ll try to roll over … on three,” Buffy joked as she pushed over onto her back, sucking in a gasp of air and clenching her eyes closed when her back hit the hard mattress of the cot.

Giles hurriedly laid the other gown on top of her, keeping his eyes on her face. When her breathing slowed back to nearly normal and her chest quit heaving from the pain, he carefully held the sleeves for her to slide her arms through. She hated this … she hated having to get help from anyone, she hated feeling weak and helpless. Spike, of course, had been right before when he said that she wouldn’t be happy as anything other than a Slayer … with a normal life and normal vulnerabilities. She didn’t do vulnerable well.

Once she was ‘dressed’ in the two gowns, Giles suggested, “Why don’t we move you to the other cot and I’ll change the sheets on this one?”

Buffy nodded her agreement, hating the fact that she needed help changing sheets that she’d peed on … and hating the fact that she couldn’t even get up to pee … in fact, she pretty much decided she hated this whole scenario. Giles pulled her to her feet, taking most of her weight on himself by wrapping one of her arms around his shoulders and they walked the couple of feet over to the other cot that Travers’ lackey had provided for them.


“Sit or lay down?” Giles questioned.


“Try … to … sit,” Buffy gritted out through her pain and Giles turned her around and sat down with her, lowering her slowly onto the other cot.



Buffy closed her eyes and concentrated on her breathing for a few moments, not daring to move once she’d sat down. Finally, she opened her eyes and looked at her Watcher, who was watching her with concern. “You must be so disappointed in me,” she lamented quietly, looking back down at the floor.

Giles furrowed his brow. “Why on earth would I be disappointed in you?”

“It’s all my fault … getting captured – Spike tried to warn me, but I just rushed in without thinking. I thought I’d … I thought I’d learned better, gotten smarter, more careful, but I just … I saw Bess there and, I don’t know what happened – my brain just frizzled … short circuited. I walked … actually I ran right into their trap,” Buffy explained, meeting his eyes with hers.






Giles shook his head slowly. “If you want me to say you acted rashly … well, perhaps you did. You saw your child and you reacted without any thought. If you want me to chastise you for that ... wag my finger at you and tell you that you should’ve known better, well, I’m not your man, Buffy.

“There’s a special love between a parent and a child … a love that sends caution to the wind, a love that, at times, short-circuits brains and defies reason. From what you say, even if you followed our plan, it’s quite likely we would’ve had the same outcome.

“I perhaps don’t tell you enough, but I’m proud of you – as proud as any Watcher could be of any Slayer; as any father could be of any child.” Giles continued. “Buffy, you’ve faced more hardship than most people would know in a hundred lifetimes and still you always endeavor to do your best – you always put other’s safety first before your own.

“Slayers were never meant to have families – they were never meant to live that long, but look at what you and Spike have accomplished. How could I be disappointed in you? Your mother would be so proud of what you two have built, how wonderfully you’re raising the children, how you’ve balanced your Calling with a family and friends – and I’m proud of you, as well. I hope I can be as good a parent to Edmond as you and Spike have been to your children,” Giles assured her sincerely.

“We all underestimated Travers," Giles continued "… we simply cannot allow that to happen again. We’ll get another chance, Buffy … we’ll find a way out of here,” Giles promised.

Buffy blinked back her tears and leaned against him. “You’re the best Watcher … and best father, anyone could ever want,” Buffy whispered through her tears. “Thank you…”

**~**

As Giles changed the sheets on the other cot, Buffy massaged and moved her knees, trying to get them back to simple agonizing pain. She tried to stand a couple of times, but couldn’t without Giles helping her up. But, after a few attempts, she was finally able to stand and walk a few steps before having to sit back down on the cot. Every movement was excruciating, but she had to keep trying, she didn’t know when that next chance that Giles spoke of might come – she had to be as ready as she could be.


Finally her muscles gave up and refused to walk another step, so she simply sat on the cot and rubbed her knees and thighs, trying to reduce the swelling. Giles unwrapped one of the Cadbury Fudge bars for her and a Wispa bar for himself as they sat facing each other on their respective cots. Buffy took a bite and closed her eyes as she let the rich chocolate melt in her mouth … then opened the bond with Spike – she finally had something good to share with him.



Spike … taste, Buffy sent to him as she rolled the chocolate around in her mouth.

Tastes like a proper chocolate bar, Spike replied. What’d you have to do to get that!?
 
Not what you think! Buffy assured him with a small smile. Giles got it along with the medicine.
 
Couldn’t have asked for a bloody key to the gate, eh? Had to go for chocolate … Spike teased.

Well – you know me … Forget the horse! My kingdom for a chocolate bar! Buffy replied jokingly.

Spike supposed Buffy had no idea what happened to Shakespeare’s Richard III shortly after that famous line … and he wasn’t going to tell her.



So, how did Rupe’s date go? Spike asked, happy for a new distraction from his own physical agony.

His leg with the metal rods had actually stopped hurting about half an hour ago, mainly because he had stopped feeling anything in his lower extremities. He didn’t know if it was from sitting in the same position for so long or if there was some kind of drug on the rods that Weatherby had stabbed into his flesh. He was pretty sure he couldn’t even wiggle his toes … although his eyes were swollen shut so he couldn’t be 100% sure, but he tried moving his feet and toes and never could feel them moving against the dirt floor. He wasn’t so ‘lucky’ with the pain radiating out from his battered and broken nose and blackened eyes, the gaping hole in his chest, or the various cuts, bruises and burns on his arms, chest and back. Those still pretty much hurt like a son-of-a-bitch… times a hundred.

“So,” Buffy said aloud when she swallowed the chocolate, opening her eyes and looking at Giles. “How was Olivia?”

“She’s … fine,” Giles hedged.

“‘Fine’ as in you spent all day Sunday snuggled up and never left her apartment or ‘fine’ as in … ‘fine’?” Buffy questioned, taking another bite of chocolate and savoring it as she kept the bond open with Spike.

“Fine as in … I was supposed to meet her for dinner several hours ago,” Giles confirmed.

“Oh … so there was sparkage and Sunday snuggling?” Buffy teased.

“I refuse to answer on the grounds that ‘snuggling’ sounds rather nancy … however – we did not leave her flat except for basic sustenance … and wine,” Giles admitted.

Buffy smiled. “There’s nothing wrong with snugglies … Spike snuggles.”

“Indeed … well, I’ll be certain to remember to take the piss out of him about that later. ‘Snuggly Spike’ … I believe that may be an oxymoron. Pretty soon they’ll be soft little stuffed Spike dolls and the children will carry them about like teddy bears – they’ll be book and movie deals and the tourists will be queued up to see the Hellmouth and our snuggly vampires,” Giles intoned dryly.



“You’re just jealous that no one thought to make snuggly Watcher dolls …” Buffy countered. “Hey! We could have the whole line! Snuggly Watchers, Vampires, and Slayers … it’ll be the biggest thing since Elmo!” Buffy continued.





“Now I do know you have a fever! Snuggly Slayers is even more preposterous than Snuggly Vampires!” Giles contended wryly.

Buffy clicked her tongue and frowned at him. “I’m snuggly! I’m a snuggle-fest! I can’t believe you don’t think I can be soft and cuddly! Just for that, there will be no Snuggly Watchers …”

“There is a God, after all …”
 
**~**

(The next afternoon), Tuesday, April 27th, 2010, 1:00pm, London:
 
Quentin Travers frowned as he picked up the blizzard of pink phone messages from his desk and scanned them. Faith and Wesley had both left three messages; Xander Harris and Willow Rosenberg had each left two; and Tara Maclay, Anya Harris, and Lorne had each left one – all just since this morning, and all looking for Spike, Buffy, and Giles. This wasn’t good. His plan to show their friends the burned-out rental car and unrecognizable pregnant, female body had turned into a fiasco when he realized that William the Bloody had the legendary Gem of Amarra. Then it was further complicated by Giles showing up before they could find the Gem and have the ‘accident’ staged …thus requiring another burned, middle-age, male body …

The incompetents he had working for him had yet to find the Gem in the white room or in the possession of any of the demons that had been in there, despite working through the night … now twenty-four hours straight. Could it have gotten destroyed somehow in the skirmish between the two vamps? Had one of his less than reliable guards seen dollar signs ... or Euro signs, and pocketed it?

“Where the bloody hell is it?!” Travers demanded loudly of his empty office, sending pain radiating out from his blackened eyes and swollen nose. One thing was certain, he had to take action – and quickly. It wouldn’t be long before the Slayer’s friends would be doing more than leaving frantic phone messages … they would be here – they could ruin everything!

Travers pressed down on the intercom button of his phone. When his secretary responded, he barked, “Get me Weatherby!” before disconnecting.

“Where is my Gem?!” Travers demanded without preamble when Weatherby entered his boss’s office; still wiping blood from his hands, face, and neck … it never ceased to amaze him how much a vamp could bleed and still remain conscious.

Weatherby shrugged. “The big one says he don’t got it … don’t know; the pretty one don’t say nuthin’ … he’s a tough nut to crack, but not un-crackable,” Weatherby explained. “I’m gonna enjoy breaking him down; it’s gonna be sweeeet.”

“You’re disappointing me, Weatherby … badly,” Travers informed him. “I need that Gem and I need it NOW!”

“They’ll be singing like birds soon enough … I’ve no doubt,” Weatherby assured him.



“You better be right!” Travers threatened. “You do not want to disappoint me … I can assure you.”

“I’ve got it under control, boss … I’ll have it for you within the hour …”

**~**

(two hours later), 3:00pm:

Knowing that Weatherby was probably overly optimistic about having the location of the Gem in an hour, Travers waited longer before going down to find out what was going on.  Travers stepped through the blue door and into the chamber of horrors that Weatherby liked to call his ‘hobby room’ nearly two hours later … the scene in front of him didn’t fill him with hope that Weatherby had succeeded...

Kralik was slumped in his chair, barely conscious, moaning and repeating, ‘Don’t have it ... Don’t know…’ over and over under his breath. There was a machete still embedded in his groin, it had been sliced down from his bellybutton all the way until it hit the hard wood of the chair seat under him, cutting everything from his navel down in half. Blood oozed from the gaping wound, pooling under him and covering his crotch and legs; it looked like someone had dumped several gallons of red paint or ketchup over the lower half of his body, but the strong, coppery aroma said otherwise.

As Travers walked past the large vamp, who had been almost literally cut in half, Kralik looked up at him with haggard eyes and begged weakly, “Dust me…”

Travers snorted and kept walking towards Weatherby … who was just pressing the machete into Spike’s stomach, just above his navel. Travers stopped about three feet away and folded his arms over his chest as he watched his best ‘interrogator’ work.

Spike’s body tensed as the thick blade pierced his flesh, his knuckles white as they gripped the arms of the heavy chair. “Ya almost got it … up and to the left a bit … bloody well itches,” Spike rasped out through the pain as the machete sliced through his hard muscles and into his abdominal cavity.

“Where’s the Gem?” Weatherby asked for the millionth time. “This can all be over … just tell me where it is.”

“Pretty sure it ain’t where you’re lookin’,” Spike pointed out through grit teeth as he tried to take his mind out of his body.

Spike’s mind wandered back in time to the Christmas when Annie was six … Lorne had ‘produced’ their Second Annual Crawford Street Christmas Extravaganza and Talent Show that year and Annie’s song and dance was ‘I’m a Little Teapot’ …

{{Click here to hear "I’m a Little Tea Pot” on YouTube  }}

She and Buffy picked it out as a follow-up to ‘The Hokey-Pokey’ that she’d done the previous year. Since that first year, Buffy and Annie … and later Dani and Billy, had picked out dance-along songs to do every year … just to see Spike do them. ‘If You’re Happy and You Know It” came the next year, followed by 'Head and Shoulders, Knees and Toes', ‘The Chicken Dance’, and ‘The Bunny Hop’ (which Anya protested vigorously) this past year. Spike’s mind relaxed as he remembered them pulling him from his seat each year and ‘forcing’ him to dance to their silly songs. Despite his ongoing protests, he never could tell them no … especially when faced with a wall of pouty lips … that Summers blood ran deep through all the children, even Billy had that pout down. Spike was nothing if not love’s bitch … and there was nothing he loved more than those pouty lips.

Spike began humming ‘I’m a Little Teapot’, as he pictured Annie and Buffy starting the dance … being joined, little by little by their friends, until the only one not dancing was Spike – just like the year before.

“I’m not bloody short or stout,” Spike protested as he sat in his chair, the twins, who were almost two, playing happily at his feet.
 
“Papa … pleeease,” Annie begged. “It’s my most favorite song in the world!” she proclaimed sincerely, tugging on his hand. Spike pursed his lips to keep from smiling. A few days before her ‘most favorite song in the world’ was Zip-a-de-do-da … they must not have been able to find a dance for that song.


“What’s that sound?” Travers asked Weatherby as the rusty machete sliced further into Spike’s midsection, perforating his stomach.

Weatherby stopped … all he could hear was Kralik moaning and begging. He stepped over to the large vamp and punched him hard in the jaw – shutting him up by knocking him out cold. He hated to waste all that moaning and begging, but there was a job to do now – fun would have to wait.

“♫ I’m a little teapot, short and stout. Here is my handle, here is my spout. When I get all steamed up, hear me shout …” Spike murmured under his breath as he played the scene out in his mind – successfully disassociating himself from the pain in his body.

“What is he saying?” Travers asked Weatherby when Kralik had been shut up.

Weatherby listened a moment, leaning in closer to Spike’s mouth to hear better. Spike’s head rolled back against the chair and Weatherby jumped back, afraid that he’d been suckered … but Spike didn’t seem to even know his tormenter was there as he continued his song.

“♫ I’m a clever teapot, yes it’s true. Here’s an example of what I can do …” Spike continued.

Weatherby frowned. “He’s singing ‘bout bloody teapots!”

Weatherby grabbed the handle of the machete and twisted it in Spike’s gut. “No singing!” Weatherby growled. “Stop that bloody singing!” he demanded angrily.

Weatherby continued to turn the wide, metal blade inside Spike, twisting his stomach and intestines around the weapon as blood poured from the now gaping wound in Spike’s stomach. Spike’s fingernails began to bleed anew as he gripped the chair handles, digging them into the hard wood as he tried to hold onto the vision of that Christmas … but the feeling of his entrails being sliced and twisted inside him, of his flesh and muscles ripping open further with each turn of the machete, dropped a curtain on the scene in his mind. Spike began to laugh maniacally, a deep rumbling laugh that was his last defense against the agony being inflicted on his body.

“You bloody pillock!” Travers screamed at Weatherby. “You’ve driven him insane! I’ll never get my legacy now!” the Council Head accused furiously.

“No! No! He was … he was fine …” Weatherby defended. He stopped twisting the machete and instead slapped Spike’s face to bring him out of whatever trance he was in. Weatherby had done this enough to know that there was a fine line that you couldn’t cross if you wanted the toy to remain lucid … he had been certain that he hadn’t yet approached it with this one. This pretty boy was going to be a tough nut to crack, the blond had obviously had experience with torture before, but no one was as skilled in interrogation as Weatherby was – no one.

“I’ll get ‘im back,” Weatherby assured Travers, pulling the machete out of Spike’s torso in one quick motion. Spike’s laugh degenerated into wet coughs as blood came up from his ravaged organs into his throat and mouth. There didn’t seem to be one place on Spike’s whole body that wasn’t covered in blood, bruises, or burns … or all three at once. There was only one thing that kept him from begging for a stake to the heart … his family. He promised Buffy he wouldn’t let her walk alone, he promised they would get out of this … he promised Bess, he promised Billy, and he promised Annie that he’d come back.

When the machete stopped moving inside him, Spike tried again to go away mentally as he spit the blood out of his mouth and began singing again. “♫ I’m a little teapot, short and stout…”

Travers completely lost it when Spike started his song again, closing the distance between them quickly, grabbing Spike by the shoulders and shaking him violently. “Where is my fucking Gem!?” the Council Head screamed at Spike … his anger overtaking his good manners and proper Cambridge vocabulary.

Spike began to laugh again as he felt all his organs sloshing around inside him … he wasn’t sure, but he thought that some of them may have actually come out of the hole in his abdomen when Travers shook him. It was probably just as well that his eyes were still swollen shut … he wasn’t sure he could get an image like that out of his mind for a good long while.

Travers pushed Spike back against the chair one last time and released him when the vamp started laughing again. This wasn’t working … he was going to lose everything! He needed a different plan and he needed it now! Travers began pacing back and forth between Kralik and Spike, trying to think … perhaps he could say another vamp discovered the Gem and stole it … Buffy, Spike and Giles were racing after the other vamp in a car when it crashed. Would her friends buy that a vamp had been able to defeat both of the ‘fair warriors’ and discover and steal the Gem? Travers rubbed tiredly at the bridge of his nose. His story had to be bullet-proof; it had to be beyond reproach, beyond question. If he could produce the damn Gem to show them, that would be so much more credible – he would be the hero for catching the vampire that stole the Gem and avenging their deaths. He needed their little Scooby friends to believe the warriors were gone … he didn’t need any of them snooping around asking questions.

Weatherby began wheeling a car battery and jumper cables over towards Spike and Travers shook his head. That wasn’t going to work anymore than slicing his insides into ribbons did or any of the hundred other things Weatherby had done to the vamp’s body … they needed a different approach.

“Get them!” Travers exclaimed suddenly, waving his arm towards the door. “Get them all and bring them in here!”

“All who?” Weatherby questioned, not sure if he meant all the vamps in the cells or what.

“The Slayer, her Watcher, and the girl – get them and bring them in here this instant!” Travers clarified, moving to the side as Weatherby slid past him and out the door.

“You think you’re soooo bloody smart … clever little teapot, indeed,” Travers murmured more to himself than Spike as he waited for Weatherby to return.

Spike didn’t hear him … he was thankful for the break in the action and let his mind wander back to embrace the ghosts of Christmases past.

Spike was pulled from his self-induced trance by the sound of Buffy’s voice … was he dreaming it? Was it part of the play in his mind? She sounded angry … yelling at someone … telling them they’d never get away with it. Spike pulled himself out of the fog bank that he’d built in his mind and tried to focus on her voice … it sounded close.

“Buffy?” he questioned tentatively – then he could smell her. She was close! “Buffy!” he exclaimed, trying to pinpoint where she was from the sounds and smells. He tried in vain to open his eyes to see, but it was no use, they were completely swollen shut.



“Spike! Oh my God, Spike!” Buffy screamed when she saw him. “You fucking bastard! What have you done to him!? I’m soooo going to enjoy killing you!” she growled at Travers as two guards held her at bay a few feet away from both Spike and the Council Head.  Her hands were shackled, but they’d left her feet free after Giles protested vigorously that shackling them was unnecessary given the condition of her knees and may put undue strain on the fetus. Buffy’s knees did actually feel better and she’d been able to walk the whole way down the hall on her own … actually, even if her knees hadn’t been better, she would’ve walked on her own or died trying – she refused to give Weatherby the satisfaction of knowing how badly he’d hurt her. She was still in the hospital gowns … her back was finally starting to heal, but it still felt like a hundred sharp barbs were sticking into her flesh every time she moved and the scabs cracked open.

“Good Lord…” Giles murmured as bile rose in his throat at the sight of Spike’s wounds. A huge gash in his chest seemed to have started to heal, but there was a fresh gaping hole the size of a softball in his stomach through which Giles could clearly see the pink of his intestines even through the blood that still oozed out from his torn and jagged flesh. Giles apparently wasn’t viewed as much of a threat, he hadn’t been shackled at all.

“Open his eyes,” Travers ordered to no one in particular, waving an arm towards Spike as they waited for Bess to be brought in.

Weatherby grabbed a sharp scalpel from the table and walked up to Spike. Holding his head still, Weatherby slit Spike’s swollen and blood-filled lids, releasing the pressure so that Spike could see what was happening.

Spike blinked against the light that began to filter in and tried to clear the blood from his vision as he squinted through his lids to see what was going on. Spike’s mind raced when he saw Buffy, the side of her face was still swollen and black-and-blue from being hit with the tire iron, he couldn’t see any more of her skin because of the hospital gowns that hung loosely over her body, covering her from her shoulders to below the knees. His eyes met hers across the open space between them and he suddenly hurt more than he had in hours. He was thankful for the blood running in his eyes, it helped cover the tears that were welling in them now … tears for her.

Spike looked quickly at Giles … the Watcher seemed to be unhurt, but seemed a little green around the gills. Spike looked back at Buffy, her face was ashen and he could see her eyes glistening as she clenched her jaw and refused to cry. Their expressions told Spike all he needed to know about his own condition – he didn’t bother looking down at himself – he could see it reflected in their faces.

Don’t cry, luv … don’t give the buggers the satisfaction, Spike sent her through their bond, admonishing himself as much as he was her, and Buffy nodded, her jaw tightening as she swallowed and blinked back the tears that were just below the surface.

Suddenly, the door swung open again and another guard pushed Bess inside roughly. Buffy tried to step forward and keep the girl from falling, but the two guards holding her arms held her tightly and kept her from moving. Bess stumbled, unable to catch her balance with her hands and feet shackled and she fell to the floor in between where Buffy and Giles were being held and where Spike was.

“Now, I believe all the guests have arrived and we can begin this tea party,” Travers announced haughtily as he moved closer to the group of prisoners.

Bess began to get up from the floor and Travers pressed his foot on her back, stopping her … well, making her choose to stop, because he couldn’t actually stop her if she had wanted to keep going. Bess looked at Spike, then to Buffy and back again, as she stayed on her hands and knees under the Council Head’s heel, unsure what was going on. She’d fought against the guard when he guided her towards the blue door rather than the white door, knowing that nothing ever comes out of the blue room except screams, and she knew she didn’t want to go in there, and yet, here she was. She had tried to hold onto hope while she was in solitary confinement … but as she looked at the vamp that had given her that hope, battered, bruised, burnt, and bloodied – that small flicker she'd been clinging to died inside her. She had been foolish to allow it to burn for even one second … having hope and losing it was perhaps a worse torture than anything they did in this room.

“You obviously don’t care what we do to you … but perhaps you will care what we do to her … or them,” Travers addressed Spike, waving his arm first at Bess, then back to indicate Buffy and Giles.

Spike glared at Travers as his mind raced. He needed a new plan, the Calvary was obviously not going to arrive … at least not in time. “I’ll bloody well make you wish you’d never been born if you lay one hand on any o’ them,” Spike growled at Travers.

“You, sir, are what we call a sheep in wolf’s clothing … you can talk a good game, but your impotence is evidenced by the fact that I am still standing here … quite unharmed,” Quentin retorted.

“Looks like the bloody sheep kicked you in the face,” Spike pointed out, referring to Travers’ broken nose and blackened eyes.

“Well … even the losers get lucky sometimes,” Travers quipped as he took his foot off Bess’ back and yanked her up by the hair.

Travers leaned over near Spike’s ear and whispered, “What Weatherby’s done to you is nothing compared to what’s about to happen to this girl. I think we’ll start with the Pear of Anguish … are you familiar with it?”

Spike growled low and struggled against his restraints with renewed vigor as anger-fueled adrenaline rushed through his body, but it wasn't enough, they weren’t giving at all.

“I’ll take that as a ‘yes’,” Travers sneered as he backed up away from Spike and shoved Bess towards Weatherby. “Do it,” he ordered his henchman and Weatherby smirked as he caught her and lifted her up, hooking her shackled hands over a heavy metal hook on the wall and hanging her by them.

“Quentin, I can assure you that if Spike knew where the Gem was, he would’ve most certainly told you by now,” Giles tried to intervene. “He’s a vampire,” Giles pointed out, as if that said it all.

Travers looked at Giles, narrowing his eyes angrily. “Let’s just make sure, shall we?”

“You don’t want to do this!” Buffy piped up as Weatherby walked over to the other side of the room to retrieve his toy.

“You know … actually, I think I do,” Travers dismissed her objection as he turned back to Spike. “You can stop it … just tell me where it is,” the Council Head informed him evenly.

Spike looked between Bess and Buffy … they both looked frightened as they watched Weatherby retrieve the Pear of Anguish from its place on the back wall. Buffy had never heard of it before, and watched with wide eyes as Weatherby worked the crank on pear-shaped metal device as he walked and four segments began opening wider and wider. It made her think of how a ‘blooming onion’ at the Bronze looked when it came to their table, like it had actually opened its ‘petals’ and bloomed like a flower… only this was a deadly, satanic flower.



Buffy shook the thought from her mind and looked back at Spike. Tell them! she silently demanded of him as Weatherby approached Bess.

Spike looked from Buffy to Bess, then Travers stepped into his line of vision. “Where should we start?” Travers asked Spike. “Perhaps her mouth … I understand it’s quite painful, breaking bones and teeth as it opens, sending sinus cavities pressing into eye sockets … I wonder if her eyeballs will pop out of her head. I wonder if her eye sockets will be crushed and pushed into her brain… Do you suppose vampires can become brain-dead? Or would that be redundant?”

“Spike! Please!!” Buffy begged him. “Tell them what they want to know! It’s not worth it!”

Spike met Buffy’s eyes with his. It’s not worth your life? Not worth Rupe’s? Not worth that littlest bit growing inside you? he asked her silently. ‘Cos that’s the cost if I give them the Gem … none of us will ever get outta here.



Buffy looked into her husband’s eyes, she could barely see the blue through his still swollen lids. Blood still ran down his face freely from where Weatherby had cut him; she didn’t know how he had any blood left to run. Buffy bit her lip as she let her eyes wander down his ravaged body again – he had endured all that to keep the Gem out of their hands, to keep the hope alive that their friends would know the truth and come to find them. Burns, cuts, gouges, stab wounds … that huge gaping wound in his stomach that looked like someone had inserted a giant corkscrew and tried to extricate his entrails through his belly button with it. He’d endured all that for her … for them. Buffy felt tears welling in her eyes again and she fought to keep them back … would she have been that strong? Would she have been able to endure that much punishment and keep her resolve? She honestly didn’t know … but she did know that she didn’t want to see him endure any more … not him or Bess.

Spike was trapped … the proverbial rock had landed on top of him, pinning him firmly against the ‘hard place’. He could take as much pain as they wanted to dish out, but could he subject Bess to it? If he didn’t give in, if he let them torture Bess, would they then move to Buffy? He knew there were plenty of painful tortures that could be meted out on her without harming the baby, and he had no doubt that Travers and Weatherby knew them all. The Council Head liked to appear a prim and proper gentleman to the world, but Spike had no doubts that he was perhaps even more sadistic than Weatherby … perhaps more than even Angelus, and Spike was threatening his ego … his legacy. He didn’t know if Bess had gotten the message to Billy or if their friends had started looking for them yet. He didn’t even know how long they’d been here … had it been a week, a month? He looked down and tried to judge the bulge in Buffy’s abdomen, but the gowns were too loose, he couldn’t tell if she was any bigger or not.

How long have we been ‘ere? he asked through the bond.

Just …umm … this is the third day, Buffy told him, barely able to believe that’s all it had been – it seemed much longer.

Spike closed his eyes. Only three days? Bugger…

Spike was pulled from his shock and disappointment by Bess thrashing against her shackles, her legs and body jerking and flailing violently against wall at her back as Weatherby and two other guards approached her with the medieval, satanic toy. Spike bit down on his lip and closed his eyes as he tried to think; his mind raced as he tried to figure out how he was going to keep his promises … all of his promises, and get them all out of here.

**~**


{{Click here to hear "Iron Maiden” by Iron Maiden on YouTube  }}


Won't you come into my room, I wanna show you all my wares.
I just want to see your blood, I just want to stand and stare.
See the blood begin to flow as it falls upon the floor.
Iron Maiden can't be fought, Iron Maiden can't be sought.

[Chorus]
Oh Well, wherever, wherever you are,
Iron Maiden's gonna get you, no matter how far.
See the blood flow watching it shed up above my head.
Iron Maiden wants you for dead.

Won't you come into my room, I wanna show you all my wares.
I just want to see your blood, I just want to stand and stare.
See the blood begin to flow as it falls upon the floor.
Iron Maiden can't be fought, Iron Maiden can't be sought.
End Notes:
TBC ... something's got to give one way or another very, very soon ... hang in there!!! Who will find a way to get them out of this boiling pot of oil? Will Faith arrive in time or will it be up to them to get themselves out?
The Touch by Passion4Spike
Author's Notes:
Spike tries to keep his resolve and the location of the Gem to himself. Will Travers find a way to break him where Weatherby failed or can our tortured heroes find a way out?
**
Warnings for gore, violence, bloodshed ... but finally some revenge and a small sliver of hope...
**
Music Referenced:
The Touch, Stan Bush (Transformers Soundtrack)
http://youtu.be/AZKpByV5764
 **
ScreenCaps courtesy of ScreenCap Paradise:
http://www.screencap-paradise.com/?cat=3
**
Special thanks to 'epd4' for betaing this chapter!!
Tuesday, April 27th, 2010, 5:00pm, London:

 

Bess and Buffy both screamed, “NO!” at the same time, yanking Spike’s mind back to the moment and away from its effort to formulate a new plan. He opened his eyes and watched as the two guards unshackled Bess’ feet. Each guard held one of her legs to keep her from kicking and gave Weatherby room to work his ‘magic’. Weatherby snickered wickedly; he always knew there would be only one thing better than fucking this Slayer-vamp … and that was hearing her scream when he tortured her; he’d waited a long time for this. If he’d been alone, he would’ve fucked her with the closed pear and made her cum first … sent her soaring to heaven, then plunging to hell in a matter of seconds. As it was, he’d just have to settle for sending her to hell.

“It appears our Mr. Weatherby would rather begin lower,” Travers observed in a deadly calm voice. “Too bad you can’t have another go at her before we rip her womanhood to shreds … you looked like you thoroughly enjoyed giving it to her yesterday. Did it feel good to have your dick inside your own daughter? Perhaps your wife would enjoy seeing that, as well…”

Spike turned back to Travers and growled low and threatening as he pulled harder on his restraints. “Tsk, tsk,” Travers clicked, chastising him. “There’s that sheep trying to be a wolf again…”

“You slept with her!?” Buffy questioned angrily, pulling against the guards that were holding her by her arms. “You fucking, two-timing son-of-a-bitch! You fucked her!?” she screamed at Spike as she struggled to get free from the guards.



“I’ll fuck whoever I bloody well please – ain’t up to you, Slayer! More man than one woman can handle, I am,” Spike retorted indignantly as he pulled harder on the restraints on his arms. The left one gave a little more … but still not enough.

“Not while you’re married to me you won’t, you fucking bastard!” Buffy snapped back as she pulled with all her strength and finally got loose from the guards that were holding her. "I bet if I 'Lorena Bobbitt' you you won't be sticking it in places it doesn't belong!"

Buffy launched herself at Spike, joining her hands and swinging her shackled arms in a wide arc at his jaw. Spike’s head snapped to the side as the chain on the shackles made contact with his temple and he moaned loudly.

The guards started to move towards Buffy to pull her back, to stop her, but Travers waved them off … this would be even better than the show in the white room the previous day …

Everyone stopped to watch the fight … which was rather one sided since Spike was still restrained hand and foot.

Left arm, Spike sent her through the bond as he barely ducked another swipe of her fists.

“Did you wrap your arms around her? Hold her in your arms? Tell her you loved her?!” Buffy screamed at him as she grabbed his left arm. “You’ll never hold another woman in these arms when I’m done with you, you sick, perverted bastard!”

Buffy pulled on his arm with all her strength, as if she was trying to break it, and the leather restraint gave more. If she could hold his arm and push up with her legs, together they could get that arm free … with one painful effort she held to his arm, one hand on each side of the leather band holding him in place and pushed up, using the aching muscles in her legs … using her battered and bruised knees to give herself enough strength to break the restraint.

Buffy screamed out in pain as the leather gave way. As soon as his arm was free, Spike swung his fist at her face, grazing her nose with his knuckles. “What’s the matter …truth hurt, Slayer? You’re just not woman enough to satisfy a real man!” Spike taunted as Buffy snapped her head to the side and fell to the floor in pain … at least she didn’t have to act much, the pain radiating out from her knees and back was enough to knock her down, Spike didn’t need to actually hit her.

Spike began unbuckling the leather strap from his right arm quickly while his wife was on the ground. Buffy started to unbuckle the one on his right leg when she saw an iron pin in the bottom of the chair that was holding it immobile on the floor. She reached out and pulled the release and used all the remaining strength in her legs to push back up and tackle Spike, knocking him and the chair over.

“You aren’t a real man! You wouldn’t know a real man if one kicked you in the balls! You’re an animal – controlled by your dick – you’d fuck anything with a pulse! You make me sick!” Buffy screamed at him as Spike’s chair tumbled over backwards and they landed in a pile on the floor. Spike had just gotten his right hand free when she tackled him and they both began wrestling on the floor, knocking over the table that held Weatherby’s impressive array of knives, daggers, swords, and other sharp instruments.

Buffy wriggled around so her head was down towards Spike’s feet and picked up two bowie knives. She handed one to Spike, using the back of the chair to hide it from view of the others in the room, before starting to unbuckle the leather restraint on his right leg again.

Weatherby, Buffy sent Spike through the bond when she saw the sadistic bastard starting towards them angrily … no doubt unhappy that his neatly arranged and carefully selected instruments of pain had been dumped in the floor.

“Well, maybe if I didn’t have a cold, dead fish for a bloody wife, I wouldn’t have to go looking for someone with a fucking heartbeat!” Spike continued their mock argument, trying to keep the guards at bay a few moments longer as they continued to wrestle on the floor.

Buffy had just gotten Spike’s right leg freed when Weatherby got to them – Spike’s left leg was still strapped to the heavy chair. When Weatherby reached down and began to yank Buffy up by the hair, Spike swung the bowie knife into the henchman’s stomach with all his strength. Weatherby’s eyes went wide with surprise, then pain, shock, and fear took its place, as he released Buffy and reached for Spike’s arm. Spike pulled down on the razor-sharp knife, slicing through Weatherby’s stomach from his navel down to his groin.



“Too bloody good for ya,” Spike murmured as he pulled the knife out and his tormentor fell to his knees, holding the gaping wound in his abdomen with both hands as his life's blood poured in rivers through his fingers and onto the floor. Weatherby's eyes were wide as he looked at Spike in utter disbelief ... his brain unable to process the reality of it - the sheep had just become the wolf.

Suddenly, all hell broke loose. The remaining guards descended on the warriors like hungry locusts. Buffy had managed to get Spike’s last restraint free, but they were outnumbered and far from full strength. Buffy found a sword that had fallen on the floor; she dropped the bowie knife and picked the larger weapon up with both hands. Since her hands were still shackled, it would make a better option than the bowie knife, plus she could strike at a distance and hopefully not have to move very much on her weak knees.

Giles had watched the fight between Buffy and Spike at first with confusion, then with understanding. Buffy had told him what had happened between Spike and Bess in the white room … there was no reason for her to be upset or jealous, but when she pulled Spike’s arm free, the Watcher suddenly understood and he bided his time, waiting for the right moment to help.

That moment came when Weatherby fell to his knees and the three guards standing near Giles (two that had been holding Buffy and one holding him) realized they had made an enormous mistake … or more accurately, their boss had. As the three guards started moving towards the warriors, Giles stuck a foot out and tripped two of them while grabbing the third by the back of the shirt and slinging him back against the wall behind them.


Ripper turned his attention to the third guard, hoping that he had at least given Buffy and Spike enough time to get to their feet by tripping the other two. The stunned man recovered quickly from hitting the wall and reached down into his boot and retrieved his expanding, friction-lock baton. Just as the guard snapped the stick to full length and locked it, Giles grasped the man’s wrist and twisted his arm up behind his back, turning the larger man around and pressing his face against the rock wall.



“I’ll take that, thank you…” Giles murmured as he easily pulled the weapon from the guard's hand, which was twisted well up behind his back. The man screamed out as his shoulder dislocated and tried to use his other hand to push off the wall and dislodge the ex-Watcher, but stopped struggling when Giles brought the baton down on the back of the larger man’s neck. The guard fell to his knees, which wrenched his shoulder further, and Giles came down on the back of the man’s head with the weapon. Ripper smiled ruefully as the man collapsed onto the floor unconscious – payback was sweet.

Buffy caught the first guard to reach them by surprise and took him out easily with the sword, slicing through his abdomen cleanly. With Giles engaged with one guard and Weatherby lying in a pool of blood nearby, that left only three more guards for her and Spike to fight … that seemed almost too easy, even in their impaired and weakened states.




Buffy stood at the ready as the other three pulled up short, stopping just out of reach when they realized she had a sword. She held them at bay while Spike struggled to his feet next to her. He still couldn’t see the best and he hurt all over … which actually was a good thing, because he had been afraid that he wouldn’t be able to walk or feel his legs and feet at all. The worst pain came from his ravaged stomach, which kept him from standing up straight, not just from the shooting pain, but to keep his entrails from exploding out from the gaping wound. Spike held one hand over the large hole in his stomach and kept trying to blink the blood from his eyes as he swayed unsteadily on his feet, holding the bowie knife at the ready, prepared to swing at anyone or anything that came within reach.

Buffy lunged at one of the guards with the sword, but missed as he parried her thrust. Guard number two, on her left, seized the opportunity while she was off balance and came down with all his strength on her forearms with his nightstick. Buffy screamed out in pain and the sword fell from her hands, landing with a loud clatter onto the stone floor. Buffy swung her shackled fists at the guard who had hit her, whipping the chain that was between her wrists violently against the side of his head and sending him reeling back.

The guard who had parried her sword attack tackled Buffy from behind when she swung at the other guard, and they both tumbled to the floor. Buffy felt like she’d just gotten flogged all over again when the guard hit her bruised and bloodied back, and stars danced in front of her eyes for several seconds as she tried to breathe and get the debilitating pain to stop. The guard took the opportunity to slide his baton under her throat and pull up on it – cutting off her airway and choking her. Buffy screeched in pain and anger and used every ounce of adrenaline and energy she had to push up with her hands and flip them over. Even knowing how much it was going to hurt when she landed, it was better than the alternative; losing was not an option.



The guard screamed out in anguish as he landed hard on top of a spiked club that had been knocked onto the floor from one of the tables. The sharp spikes embedded in his upper back between his shoulder blades and he struggled to push Buffy off him, to get up off the painful barbs. When the guard released his hold on her throat, Buffy turned on top of him and quickly reversed their roles as she pressed the chain between her wrists against the man’s throat. The guard struggled against her, landing two or three painful blows on her swollen jaw, but ultimately, he couldn’t dislodge her and he succumbed to darkness as she choked the breath out of him.

**~**

When Buffy lunged at guard number one with her sword, guard number three, who was closest to Spike, kicked the knife out of the vamp’s hand and it skittered across the stone floor, out of reach. When the guard raised his arm to come down on Spike’s head with his nightstick, Spike used his free arm to punch the man right in the solar plexus with all his remaining strength. The hub of nerves in the guard’s stomach sent pain shooting out to every part of his body and knocked the breath out of him, causing him to double over in utter misery. When he bent over, Spike brought his fist down on the back of the man’s neck and dropped him to his knees, but the effort also pushed some of Spike’s innards outwards through the gaping hole in his stomach and brought Spike to his knees, as well.

The guard recovered and took advantage of Spike’s pain by punching him hard in the abdomen, right on top of the hand Spike had holding his stomach. Spike ‘oomphed’ and his eyes closed involuntarily against the unbearable pain that knifed through his body. The guard continued his assault on the injured vamp, alternating between punching Spike in the stomach and in the face. Blood poured anew from Spike’s broken nose and he felt like he was being turned inside-out through his bellybutton with each blow. Spike tried to fight back, but his one handed, nearly blind punches were ineffectual against the adrenaline charged guard, who could smell victory over the legendary ‘William the Bloody’.

Spike collapsed from his knees down onto his side on the hard floor of the torture chamber and the guard moved over him and continued to pummel him with his fists. Spike could see Buffy struggling with another guard just a few feet away – she was being choked … his only clear thought was that he needed to help her. Spike’s head jerked violently to the other side as the guard punched him in the jaw and he lost sight of his wife. Spike tried to push the man off him, tired to block the blows that rocked his head back and forth, but he was losing the battle with his pain. He pulled his other hand from between them, there was no way he could fight him one handed. As soon as he let the pressure off his stomach, Spike could feel his entrails pressing out of the wide maw in his abdominal wall and his brain briefly wondered if that was what having a baby felt like … like your guts were being literally ripped out of your body.

The guard noticed the new bloody ‘appendages’ squeezing through, as well, and grabbed a hold of the pink ribbons of intestines and began twisting and pulling them out further. Spike screamed out in brutal agony as he punched wildly at the guard’s face in a blind, adrenaline-driven fit of pain and rage, and finally his left fist connected with the man’s nose and stopped him momentarily. Spike punched again and again as the guard tried to clear his head, some punches landing firmly, but most just glancing off the side of the man’s head. The guard redoubled his efforts to stop Spike by winding Spike’s entrails around one hand and pulling with all his strength. Spike’s mind went blank as white-hot searing pain engulfed him, and his brain did what he’d been practicing these last days – it went away. Suddenly, he was sitting on the edge of their eldest daughter’s bed looking down into her tear-stained face as he told her how much he loved Buffy and assured her that they would both be back … the whole scene flashed in his mind in just a millisecond.



“Do you love Mama as much your other wife?” Annie had continued her interrogation of him.
 
“More …” Spike answered her simply and honestly. “There’s no one that could ever compare to your mum … not for me. She’s my soul mate … do you know what that is?”
 
Annie shook her head.
 
“A soul mate is someone who is the other half of you. Before you find them, you feel like a puzzle with a piece missin’ … but when you finally find that piece, your whole world changes. It goes from black ‘n white to Technicolor, it’s bloody brilliant,” Spike told her. “One day you’ll know … one day you’ll come and tell me you’ve found the one that completes you. It’ll be the happiest and saddest day of my life.”
 
“How come?” she questioned.
 
“‘Cos you won’t be my girl anymore, you’ll be his.”
 
“I’ll always be your girl, Papa,” Annie assured him.

Spike hugged her to him and dropped a kiss on the top of her head. “I love you, Niblett.”
 
“I love you too, Papa. Please be careful … ‘cos if anything happened to you it would break our hearts … you wouldn’t want that, would you?” she tossed his own words back at him as she hugged his neck tightly.
 
“No, Niblett, I’d never want that.”


Her words echoed in his empty brain, bouncing off his skull and ricocheting wildly through his mind … if anything happened to you it would break our hearts … break our hearts … break our hearts.

Spike growled fiercely as he raised both hands over his head and interlaced his fingers then swung as hard as he could at the guard’s face. When Spike’s ‘human hammer’ slammed against the man’s nose, blood spurted in all directions and the guard instinctively released his hold of Spike’s guts to grab his broken nose. When Spike raised his arms over his head again, his hands felt something on the floor above his head … the bowie knife that Buffy had dropped. Spike grabbed it and swung in a wide arc at the guard’s neck, cutting all the way through to his spine with one swipe. Blood spewed from the guard’s neck like a broken, demonic fire hydrant, covering Spike and everything near them with a brilliant spray of red.

Spike pushed the slumping, bloody body off him and tried to get up to help Buffy, but collapsed back down when he tried to move. Long ribbons of intestines had been pulled out of his stomach and were now dragging the ground – every move he made forced more of his insides out of the abdominal cavity and sent blistering bolts of pain shooting through him. Spike looked over to where he knew she was … she had gotten control and was choking her opponent … she was alright … they had won.

Spike blew out a deep breath and braced himself for what had to be done. He closed his eyes and began pushing his mangled and gritty entrails back into his abdomen. Spike clenched his jaw against the pain as he slowly threaded his intestines back through the gaping wound in his stomach; it was a slow and painful process, but it had to be done and he wouldn’t ask anyone else to bear the burden of it for him, least of all Buffy. He needed to get it done before she came to him … before she saw it; he’d seen such a sight before and he knew it wasn’t something she’d ever forget.

**~**

Buffy finally realized that the man under her had passed out and pushed herself up off him and slowly got to her feet. Her breathing was labored and her chest heaved from exertion and adrenaline as she looked around – trying to see if there were any more attacks coming, but her eyes stopped when she saw Spike. Buffy felt bile rise in her throat at the sight of her husband; there wasn’t a spot on him that wasn’t bloody, burnt, bruised, or battered … but that was only the beginning – his stomach was covered with long, pink … snakes?  For a moment, her brain couldn’t process it … it looked like he was covered with some kind of demonic ropes … or?? Buffy rubbed her eyes, trying to get them to focus, trying to get her brain to process what it was seeing …when she looked back at him, she finally realized what it was.



Buffy turned to the side and bent forward, resting her hands on her knees, as the bile exploded out of her mouth, she was powerless to stop it. Even with her eyes closed, that nightmarish vision was burned into her brain … and she continued to heave violently, even after there was nothing left to come up. Buffy finally wiped at her damp eyes and mouth as she tried to get air back in her lungs and steel herself to look back at Spike … to go to him, to help him. As Buffy stood back up straight she heard voices behind her and turned just in time to see another guard coming in through the door.

“GILES!” Buffy screamed at her Watcher, who was just in the process of lifting Bess down off the hook on the wall near the door. “DOOR! BLOCK THE FUCKING DOOR!”

Buffy looked down for her sword, but before she could pick it up, the new guard that had stormed into the fray tackled her and knocked her to the floor. He had a stun gun in his hand and pressed it against her chest as she tried to get out from under him. Buffy’s back arched and she screamed out in anguish … she could actually feel her heart racing faster in her chest as the electricity surged through her.


She felt like she’d lost all control of her muscles … the voltage was confusing her nerves and nothing would move, no matter how hard she tried. When the guard pulled the hot-shot off her in order to get a new grip on it, Buffy’s body went limp, as if the only thing powering her was the electricity from the stun gun … or perhaps as if it had sucked all the energy from her muscles by constricting them so tightly with its voltage. Buffy tried to move, to push the man off … but she could barely lift her arms with the weight of the shackles. The guard smirked at her as he easily pushed her hands away and pressed the stun gun against the side of her neck. Buffy’s body convulsed under him, bucking and writhing as the voltage traveled down her spine and fired the nerves that controlled her muscles randomly, making her whole body twitch uncontrollably.



Buffy felt herself losing consciousness – the voltage radiating out from the side of her neck was making bright lights dance and flash in her brain, but between each flash all she could see was the image of Spike that was tattooed on her mind. She’d let him down by being weak and squicking … and now she was about to let him down completely. She tried again to gain control of her muscles back from the electric prod, but it was no use – she couldn’t break the hold it had on her body. They had been so close … so very close to winning … so very close to getting out of this hell hole. Buffy wondered briefly what Spike’s next punishment would be for her failure to finish what she started – but she didn’t have time to ponder that for long as darkness descended on her mind. Her last thought before losing consciousness was of Spike and an overwhelming feeling of guilt for the pain he’d suffered because of her.

 **~**

Spike opened his eyes when he heard Buffy scream at Giles to block the door. He was working feverishly, trying to get his insides put back inside when the new guard tackled Buffy and pressed the stun gun against her chest. Giles had gotten Bess down off the hook she had been hanging on and together they were blocking anyone else from entering the room.

Spike took a deep breath and gathered all the intestines that remained outside his body in his hand and pressed them inside in a grotesque, bloody wad. Holding one hand over his abdomen to keep everything in, he pushed up to a sitting position with the other. When he moved, it felt like someone was inside him, pulling and tugging on his guts, wrapping them round and round each other and tying them in knots. Spike stopped moving when he got to a sitting position, closed his eyes and tried to breathe through the sharp stabbing pain of his intestines shifting within him.

Spike took one last deep breath and rolled over onto his one free hand and knees, letting out a scream of absolute agony as he did so. It was the first time he’d screamed in pain since he’d entered this room … at least Weatherby didn’t live to hear it, which was one small consolation. Spike reached out and grabbed the handle of Buffy’s sword and used it like a ski-pole to press up to standing. Spike wobbled on his feet when he stood up – between the blood loss and the agony of his guts doing literal flip-flops within him, Spike’s head was reeling ... spinning like a top. It didn’t help that the adrenaline high he’d been running on since Buffy started the ‘fight’ with him had waned and left him even weaker than he’d been before. Spike leaned heavily on the handle of the sword, bent over and pressing his right hand against his stomach as hard as he could, as he tried to steady himself on his feet.

The guard atop Buffy hadn’t even noticed Spike stand up, hadn’t even heard him scream, so focused was he on Buffy. Spike took a tentative step forward, breathing deeply from the exertion and pain that now seemed to engulf his whole body. Tears of anguish came to Spike’s eyes as he took another shaky step towards Buffy and her attacker … and another, using the sword as a cane to stay upright.

Suddenly, the guard, who was straddling Buffy’s prone body as he held the stun gun against her neck, looked up – finally noticing Spike. Spike let out a blood curdling scream as he removed his right hand from his stomach and lifted the sword up with both hands at the same time the guard swung the stun gun it at Spike’s midsection. The sword came straight down, piercing the guard’s left rhomboid, the spot between the shoulder blade and spine, exiting through his chest, and heading straight for Buffy’s abdomen … and the baby growing there.

The stun gun in the guard’s hand hit Spike’s tortured stomach and the entrails that had escaped when he raised the sword, causing Spike’s body to twitch and jerk violently, inside and out. Spike tried to pull up on the sword at the last minute, but he’d lost his ability to hold it or even stand up any longer, and both Spike and the guard collapsed at the same time. As Spike fell to the ground, he could see the sword moving as if in slow motion towards Buffy as she lay helpless under the guard. It was headed straight towards the baby – but he was powerless to do anything about it.

Spike felt his head crack on the hard stone floor as he landed next to his wife. His vision blurred and swirled … he could see Buffy for an instant, then the guard’s face blocked his view as the injured man collapsed on top of her. Spike blinked and shook his head, trying to clear his vision, but it was like a curtain was slowly lowering in front of his eyes … he finally realized that curtain was his own eyelids.



Spike could smell fresh blood … Slayer blood, and he knew the sword - his sword, had drawn it. He fought to remain conscious, reaching out towards his wife and touching her bare arm with his blood-soaked hand. He tried to move … to get back up, as his mind swirled and fluttered in and out of darkness. They were so close …they’d fought, they’d nearly won, but it was no use … he’d used every ounce of strength he had, he had nothing left to give. His last thought was that he had failed … again he’d failed to keep his promise. He couldn’t get them out … he couldn’t save them, not Bess or Buffy or their unborn child … and he’d promised that he would …

**~**

{{Click here to hear "The Touch” by Stan Bush (Transformers Soundtrack) on YouTube  }}

You got the touch
You got the power
After all is said and done
You've never walked, you've never run,

You're a winner
You got the moves, you know the streets
Break the rules, take the heat
You're nobody's fool
You're at your best when when the goin' gets rough

You've been put to the test, but it's never enough
You got the touch
You got the power
When all hell's breakin' loose
You'll be riding the eye of the storm

You got the heart
You got the motion
You know that when things get too tough
You got the touch

You never bend, you never break
You seem to know just what it takes
You're a fighter
It's in the blood, it's in the will

It's in the mighty hands of steel
When you're standin' your ground
And you never get hit when your back's to the wall
Gonna fight to the end and you're takin' it all

You got the touch
You got the power
When all hell's breakin' loose
You'll be riding the eye of the storm

You got the heart
You got the motion
You know that when things get too tough
You got the touch

You're fightin' fire with fire
You know you got the touch
You're at your best when when the road gets rough
You've been put to the test, but it's never enough

You got the touch
You got the power
You got the touch
You got the power
End Notes:
TBC .... most of the really gorey stuff is over now, you can open your eyes ... We'll find out next time how injured Buffy and/or the baby is and .... hey?! What happened to Travers during this fight?? hmmmm ... more to come!
Even the Losers (Get Lucky Sometimes) by Passion4Spike
Author's Notes:
Our heroes have neutralized the immediate threat, but at what cost? And what waits for them outside the blue door?
**
A *relatively* gore-free chapter ... I think you can take your hands away from your face now ... although I can't make any promises about the angst being over yet...
**
Music Referenced:
Even the Losers, Tom Petty
http://youtu.be/E30XxSYgmqo
 **
ScreenCaps courtesy of ScreenCap Paradise:
http://www.screencap-paradise.com/?cat=3
**
Special thanks to 'epd4' for betaing this chapter!!

(same night - moments later) Tuesday, April 27th, 2010, 7:00pm, London:
 
Bess used all her strength to hold the door closed against the guards that were banging on it, trying to get in, as Giles struggled to slide the three heavy, metal rods in place that served as locks. When he finally secured the last of the rods, Giles leaned his back against the door heavily, breathing hard, as he wiped the perspiration from his brow.
 
“Oh my God!” Bess exclaimed when she could finally let go of the door and turned around. Spike and Buffy were on the ground, both bathed in blood, neither moving – forgetting momentarily that Spike was a vampire, she was certain they were both dead.
 
At her exclamation, Giles looked up and his eyes found them instantly. “Dear Lord…” he murmured, swallowing back the bile that was climbing in his throat as he pushed himself away from the door and started towards them. Bess began to follow him when a renewed barrage began against the door from the guards outside. Giles and Bess both turned back to the door as the heavy metal rods creaked and rattled in their moorings.
 
“You stay here … don’t allow anyone in,” Giles instructed her and Bess nodded and went back to her position against the door, bracing her legs and pressing her back against it as she watched Giles move closer to Spike and Buffy.

 

Giles swallowed hard as he reached the warriors and concentrated on just breathing. Knowing that Spike couldn’t actually die, despite the severity of his wounds and what seemed miles of entrails covering his abdomen, legs and floor, Giles began with Buffy. The ex-Watcher pulled the sword out of the dead guard and pushed him off her, then knelt down to try and check for wounds. She was so drenched in blood, he had no way of knowing what of it was hers and what had come from their adversaries – he couldn’t tell if she’d been cut or stabbed or even if she was alive or dead. He leaned down and placed his ear against her chest and listened … he finally breathed a sigh of relief when he heard her heart beating strong and steady.
 
Giles jumped up to find something to use to clean her off with so he could actually find out if she was bleeding. He quickly spotted the bucket of cold water that Weatherby kept in the chamber … he stepped over the dead and unconscious bodies of the guards that Spike and Buffy had fought, and retrieved the bucket. Once back at Buffy’s side, he removed his own shirt and undershirt and used them as rags, dunking them in the water and washing her blood-stained skin. He started with her neck and groin area, knowing if one of the large arteries in those areas had been cut it would only take minutes for her to bleed out … but he found only burns from the stun gun on her neck and no injuries near her femoral artery.
 
Then he moved to her torso and the vital organs there, working quickly, he dunked his t-shirt in the water and brought it back over her body, washing away the blood and grime that covered her until he found it … a slice the width of a sword in her hospital gown on her abdomen. When he washed the blood off, more formed and began running in a red river down the small bulge in her belly and forming a pool of red on the floor.
 
Giles pressed down on the wound as his throat tightened. It was to the right of the center of her abdomen … it could have easily hit the uterus or perhaps a kidney. He couldn’t tell how deep it was without exploring it with his fingers … he had to know how desperate their situation was. If it was simply a flesh wound, he could stop the bleeding and take time to help Spike and formulate a plan … if it was deeper … well, he wasn’t sure what they would have to do in that case, perhaps surrender to the throng of guards that were trying to beat down the door in order to get medical treatment for his Slayer.
 
Giles took a deep breath and pressed one finger into the wound. He’d only gotten into the first knuckle when Buffy grabbed his wrist in both her hands and began twisting his arm.
 
“Buffy! Stop! It’s just me ... Giles!” the startled ex-Watcher exclaimed as he turned his whole body to keep her from ripping his arm out of its socket.
 
Buffy opened her eyes and finally looked at who she’d caught … letting go immediately when she realized it was, indeed, Giles. “Christ, Giles! You want some salt to rub in there too?”
 
Giles pulled his arm back and rubbed at his shoulder … it appeared to still be in place. “I … I was simply trying to determine how severe the wound was,” he explained.
 
“Severe enough to hurt like hell when you poke a finger in it,” Buffy informed him as she pushed up to sitting so she could examine it herself. Buffy's head spun when she sat up and she had to close her eyes a few moments to get it to slow down to a slow twirl. Finally, she took a deep breath, opened her eyes, and pressed against the sides of the stab wound, she could actually stop the bleeding by pressing her flesh together. “It’s not that deep… I’m ok,” she assured him after a few moments.
 
Giles sat back on his heels and sighed in relief, taking his glasses off and massaging the bridge of his nose and rubbing the stress and worry from his eyes.
 
“Oh, God … Spike…” Buffy moaned as she turned to her husband. He was covered in the slimy, slithering pink ‘snakes’ … it looked like even more than she’d seen before, and drenched in blood from head to toe.

 

“How do we fix it?” Buffy asked Giles, looking from her husband’s prone and unconscious body to her Watcher and back again.
 
Giles sighed heavily and replaced his glasses. “I really can’t do more than thread his entrails back inside and attempt to sew his abdominal wall back together. It really would be better if we had a proper doctor … but I’m not certain how we’d explain Spike’s … condition to a proper doctor.”
 
“We need to wash them off … they’re all …dirty and bloody,” Buffy pointed out.
 
“He can’t get an infection, Buffy … it doesn’t matter if they’re clean…”
 
“We’re washing them off! I am not putting that … that dirt and that … that murderer’s blood inside him!” Buffy insisted as she reached for the water bucket and slid it across the floor and over next to Spike.
 
“Let’s get those shackles off you …” Giles suggested as he searched the dead guard’s pockets for keys. When he found them, Buffy held her wrists up for him and Giles unlocked and dropped the shackles onto the floor.
 
“God, Spike …” Buffy cried as she turned back towards him. She clenched her jaw and swallowed hard, determined not to squick on him again … not to let him down this time.

 

Giles moved over to the other side of her husband and, as Buffy cleaned the long tubes … which she tried to think of as pink snakes rather than entrails, somehow that made it easier … Giles threaded them back into Spike’s abdomen. He wasn’t sure how they would stay in place once in there and not twist and become even more painful. Perhaps they could find a proper doctor when they got out of here that could get them placed correctly or perhaps, if they were lucky, his natural vampire healing would take care of it.
 
Buffy was thankful that Spike remained unconscious throughout their ‘operation’ … she didn’t think she could take seeing the pain in his eyes … he’d suffered so much these last days on account of her and her rash decisions, she didn’t want to be the cause of any more of his pain. When they’d gotten enough of his entrails back inside him that his naughty bits were uncovered, Buffy took a moment to yank the shirt off one of the prone bodies of the guards and cover Spike’s hips up with it. Giles smiled to himself at her, that really was the least of Spike’s worries at the moment … What was it that made her do that? Naïveté? No. Respect, perhaps, or maybe it was simply thoughtfulness brought on by love.
 
When they got all the ‘snakes’ back inside the gaping wound, Giles pressed his palm down on it to keep everything in. “We need something to sew with … something strong, like a wire perhaps?” Giles suggested, looking around the room.
 
Buffy pushed up to her feet, swaying slightly from the change in elevation and the pain that still radiated out from her back, knees, and now her neck, chest, and abdomen. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes a moment to get her balance, before letting the breath out and opening her eyes to survey the room. There were plenty of instruments of destruction here, but she didn’t see anything that looked like …
 
“There!” Giles exclaimed, tilting his head towards some kind of odd device that looked like a chair with a big handle at the back of it. “The garrote … it should have a thick wire on it…”

 

Buffy stepped over the guards that littered the floor and made her way to the machine Giles indicated. It did have a wire across it … Buffy really didn’t even want to imagine how it was used or how Giles knew what it was called. She used some bolt cutters that were hanging on the wall and cut the wire off the machine and brought it back to Giles, washing it in the bucket of water before handing it to him.
 
Giles smiled slightly at her gesture … despite the fact that it really didn’t make any difference to Spike’s health, she wasn’t going to put dirty entrails back into him or use a grimy garrote wire to sew him up with.
 
“Ok … you hold the two sides together and I’ll thread the wire through his abdominal wall and muscles, pulling them together like a corset … hopefully it won’t tear out,” Giles instructed her.
 
Buffy nodded and pulled the two sides of wound together so Giles could ‘sew’ it up with the wire. Giles knew the chances were that if Spike moved very much, it would tear open again, but it was their best chance with what they had to work with. When Giles was nearly done with the procedure, Spike moaned loudly and reached a hand up to rub at his cracked and aching skull.
 
“Spike? Just lay still, honey … don’t move, ok?” Buffy cooed softly to him as Giles struggled to twist the ends of the wire around each other tightly enough so they didn’t just unthread.
 
Spike blinked his eyes and looked up, first seeing Giles then slowly turning his head and seeing Buffy over him. “Bugger…” he moaned, closing his eyes again. “Thought I’d landed in a hell-dimension with a ‘alf-naked Watcher callin’ me ‘honey’ …”
 
Giles snorted and rolled his eyes as he finished securing the wire and sat back on his heels. “I can assure you that if I call you ‘honey’ it will be because there is a large, homicidal bear chasing us…”
 
Spike snorted a laugh, but it immediately turned painful and he wrapped his arms around his midsection, trying to hold everything still.
 
“You should try not to move … I don’t know if that will hold or not,” Giles informed him. “Buffy … see if you can rip some wide strips out of some of these men’s clothes that we can use to wrap around Spike’s torso to help keep everything … together.”

 

“And see if you can find m’ bloody clothes…” Spike added. “Are you ok … the bit?” he asked, reaching a hand out to Buffy and halting her as she started to stand up.
 
Buffy stopped and dropped back down next to him. She smiled softly at him, laying a hand gently on his cheek and looked into his eyes. They were still swollen nearly closed, but she could just see the beautiful blue she loved so much ... now so filled with worry. “We’re fine …” she assured him, rubbing a hand over her tummy.
 
Spike smiled lightly and nodded as relief flooded over him and he relaxed back against the cold, dirty floor at his back. He was sure he’d stabbed that sword all the way through her … through the littlest bit – he really didn’t know how it had missed, but he was thankful to whatever intervention that had stopped it. “Did we win?” he asked to no one in particular.
 
“The battle, perhaps … the war remains to be seen…” Giles answered tiredly, looking at Bess who was still pressed against the door, keeping the remaining guards at bay.
 
**~**
 
When Buffy pulled the shirt off the guard she’d left unconscious, he moaned and began to stir. Buffy bent down and popped him hard in the jaw with her fist and the man went still and silent again. “That’s for trying to strangle me,” she murmured to him before turning back to Spike and Giles and ripping the shirt into long, wide strips. Giles slid the strips under Spike’s back and around his torso, tying them together tightly around his abdomen to help hold everything in place. When he was done, he had Spike’s entire stomach laced up like a Victorian lady, all the way from his hips to his rib cage. It was a good thing Spike didn’t actually have to breathe or he would’ve passed out from lack of oxygen.
 
While Giles worked on Spike, Buffy looked around the room for her husband’s jeans, duster, and boots … she knew that his t-shirt was probably gone, it had been stuffed into the wound on his chest the last time she saw it … was that just yesterday? It seemed like years ago. She finally found Spike’s clothes in a cabinet in the back of the room … along with lots of other clothes. Weatherby’s trophy case, no doubt … the clothing of all his victims. Buffy grabbed what was Spike’s … his jeans and boots, and brought them over to him … his duster wasn’t there.
 
“Brilliant…” Spike moaned in a low voice when he saw his jeans and boots. “Help me up…” he requested of Buffy and Giles and they each grabbed him under one arm and pulled him to his feet.
 
“Bloody hell…” Spike moaned, bending over at the waist and wrapping his arms around his stomach. When he moved, everything inside him shifted … it felt like someone was tap dancing on his innards…with steel soccer cleats.

 

“Oh God …baby … I’m so sorry,” Buffy cried, wincing in pain with him and laying her hand on his back, rubbing up and down gently, trying to soothe him. She didn’t know what else to do.
 
After a couple of minutes, the pain subsided to simply a dull ache as everything inside him finally stopped shifting and Spike stood up as much as he could and met her eyes with his. “No worries, pet … not much worse than digestin’ that charcoal cake you baked for m’ birthday that one year…” he quipped.
 
Buffy’s brows shot up and she resisted the urge to slap him. “Why do I think that was the year I stopped cooking?”
 
“Mighta been…” Spike agreed as he took his jeans out of Giles’ hand.
 
Buffy rolled her eyes and snorted a small laugh as she helped him with the jeans. “Lean on me…” she offered as she took the jeans from him and held them low so he could step into them, hopefully without ripping his stitches.
 
Spike accepted her help gratefully and finally … after what seemed an epic struggle, was dressed again. Spike leaned on Giles and Buffy, trying to put more of his weight on the uninjured Watcher than his wife, and they made their way over to Bess, who was still pressed against the door. The banging had stopped for the moment, but they knew that it was just a matter of time before it began in earnest again.
 
“Are you going to be all right?” Bess asked, looking at Spike doubtfully. He still couldn’t stand up straight, actually he could barely stand at all.
 
“Be fine … no worries,” Spike assured her, giving her a small smile. “Run ‘em off, did ya?” he asked her, nodding his head towards the door.
 
“I fear not … I could hear them talking. I believe they’ve gone to get a battering ram … or a bazooka,” Bess informed the weary warriors.
 
Buffy snorted and rolled her eyes. “Perfect. Sooo …. anyone have a plan? I pretty much used up my only plan…”
 
“Brilliant plan, by the way, luv,” Spike offered. “Ya didn’t have to hit me quite so hard with them shackles, though … messed up my pretty face, ya did.”
 
Buffy smiled at him sadly and shook her head. His face was a bruised and bloody mess, his nose was demolished, his eyes swollen and blackened … and not from her hitting him with the shackles. “Sorry, I thought you would’ve ducked faster.”
 
Giles stepped forward and unshackled Bess’ wrists as he’d done Buffy’s as he tried to think. Then something suddenly dawned on him. “Where’s Quentin?”

 

Spike, Buffy, and Bess all frowned and turned back to face the room, surveying it quickly with their eyes – Quentin wasn’t there. “Maybe there’s a secret passage … another entrance … like in those old Bella Lugosi movies,” Buffy proposed.
 
“Indeed …” Giles agreed. “Spike – you stay here, let us know if they return. We’ll look for another entrance,” Giles suggested and they all nodded their agreement.
 
Spike wrapped his arms around his midsection and leaned heavily against the door while the other three fanned out, checking the walls for buttons, levers, seams or hinges … anything that would open or reveal a hidden door.
 
Bess approached a coffin-like, iron box that had a face on top of it and smiled ruefully … the doors weren’t quite closed, she could hear Travers’ heart racing … she could smell his adrenaline – he was hiding inside. Bess waved her hands in the air, getting Giles’ and Buffy’s attention before taking hold of the handles and snatching the doors open quickly.

 

But Travers was ready and waiting for her. He moved faster than she expected … well, she didn’t actually expect him to move at all, but rather to be cowering in the bottom of the iron maiden like the coward he was. Travers spun Bess around and pressed a wooden stake against her sternum, holding her back against his front with an arm across her throat.
 
Giles and Buffy had both started moving towards her when she waved at them, but they both stopped short when they realized that Travers had a stake to her heart.
 
“Now, I believe I have your attention …” Travers drawled dryly. “Open the door – let the guards in or your precious daughter will be nothing more than dust.”
 
Buffy held her hands out as if in surrender but took another step forwards towards the Council Head. “One more step and I swear I’ll dust her! I don’t have anything left to lose … you do.”
 
Buffy stopped moving as her mind raced. Maybe if Bess could kick back or stomp down on Travers’ instep he’d drop the stake … on the other hand, it may just make him shove it into her heart.
 
“That’s where you’re wrong, Watcher,” Spike contradicted as he moved away from the door and started towards Travers and Bess. “You’re still livin’ … could lose that pathetic, shriveled up, raisin of a soul … could be one a’ us. Could live in a dungeon for a bloody century … could find another Weatherby for a roommate so you wouldn’t be lonely.”

 

Spike! What are you doing? Buffy screamed at him through the bond, her eyes wide with fear.
 
Trust me … he sent back simply, never taking his eyes off Travers. Spike continued to move slowly forward towards the Council Head, he couldn’t stand up straight, his arms were wrapped around his mid-section, his steps were unsure, wobbly – not his normal confident, graceful gait, and he certainly didn’t come across as much of a threat.
 
“I’m warning you!” Travers threatened, tightening his grip on the stake until his fingers turned white and pressing it harder into Bess’ flesh.
 
“No … I’m warning you,” Spike countered as he kept moving forward while Buffy and Giles watched wide eyed, frozen in place, afraid to move lest Travers dust Bess. “Let ‘er go … call off your goons and we’ll all leave here in one piece … more or less.”
 
Bess’ blue eyes met Spike’s … he was only three feet away from them now. He saw the fear in their depths … fear that the hope she’d allowed herself had been for naught; fear that she would be dusted in this hell, never see the outside world again, never walk barefoot on a beach, never lay in fresh-mown grass under a starry sky, never feel the love of a family again.
 
“Don’t worry… I promised to get ya out, didn’t I?” Spike asked her, his voice calm and confident.
 
Bess nodded slightly and Travers pressed the stake in a little deeper, drawing blood and making her gasp.
 
“I swear I’ll do it!” Travers warned Spike. “I’ll dust her as sure as there’s a God in heaven!”
 
“Not sure ‘bout that …never actually met the man … or woman? Do you think God could be a bloody bint? ‘Cos, gotta say, some days it seems like God’s got PMS and She's takin' it out on the whole buggerin' world…” Spike contended, as if pondering the universe with a mate in a bar over a pint of lager.

Spike took one long, painful stride forward and was within reach of Travers and Bess, but just as he did, Travers kept his word and plunged the stake into Bess’ heart. Buffy screamed, “NOOOO!” and she and Giles rushed forward, but Spike was between them and the Council Head.
 
Spike smirked when the stake went into Bess and she screamed out in pain but didn’t explode into dust. He grabbed Travers’ wrist and pulled the stake out of his daughter and the wound healed almost immediately. “Wha …What … What’s going on?” Travers stammered, his eyes wide with fear and shock.
 
“I reckon you found the Gem …” Spike explained. “You were right 'bout one thing … even the losers get lucky sometimes … just too late for you, mate.”
 
Spike pulled Bess away from Travers and pushed her towards Giles and Buffy before slamming Travers’ hand against the stone wall next to them and forcing him to drop the stake. Spike gingerly bent down and picked up the pear of anguish from the floor and held it up in front of the Watcher's face, as his seething anger began to boil. "Do you reckon 'brain-dead Watcher' is redundant?" Spike questioned as he shoved Travers back against the cold stone wall of the blue room ... the room from which only screams escape.

“My turn …” Spike growled as he vamped out and sunk his fangs down into the Council Head’s neck. Travers fought against him, but Spike’s adrenaline and rage fueled him to nearly full strength despite all his injuries, as he drained the blood from the man that had masterminded their capture, threatened his family, hurt Buffy, and held Bess captive as his own lab experiment for so many years. He may not have been the one to originally imprison Bess … but his great-whatever grandfather … Harold Travers, her Watcher – the man who should’ve protected her, guided her, kept her safe – the man who lied to her family, who lied in the Watcher’s diary … was. Spike was sure of it.

 

Giles instinctively started to move towards Spike … to stop him, but Buffy grabbed his arm and pulled her Watcher back. Giles looked at her … her green eyes shone with determined resolve and she shook her head sternly. This ended here – Travers wouldn’t threaten their family again – ever. Giles sighed heavily and nodded his silent understanding and Buffy let go of his arm. Giles put an arm around Bess and one around Buffy and turned them away from the carnage that Spike was meting out to their tormentor and began walking back towards the door … the only door in the room.
 
“What happened?” Bess questioned with wide eyes, running a hand over the hole the stake had made in her dress. “Why am I not dust?”
 
Buffy stopped and took both of Bess’ hands in hers. “Spike must’ve hid the Gem of Amarra in you somewhere … you don’t remember?”
 
Bess shook her head, her eyes still full of confusion. “What does it do?”
 
“It protects you from everything … it keeps you safe,” Buffy explained simply.
 
“And … and he … he gave it to me?” Bess asked with disbelief.
 
Buffy smiled softly at the young Slayer-vamp. She was unlike any vamp she’d ever met … any except Spike. If she didn’t know better, Buffy would’ve sworn the girl had a piece of her soul. “He loves you very much … he trusts you with it.”
 
It was suddenly clear to Buffy why Spike wouldn’t tell Travers where the Gem was … it wasn’t only to keep Travers from convincing their friends that they were dead, it was to protect Bess. If Travers thought she had it, there’s no telling what he would’ve done to find it. Weatherby would’ve taken her apart piece by piece to find it … hell, Weatherby would’ve taken her apart piece by piece even if he knew where to look for it; it would’ve been the perfect excuse for him to keep her in his house of horrors for days … weeks, months even.
 
When they got to the door, Giles, Bess, and Buffy stopped and listened. They could hear hushed conversations and heavy footsteps moving up and down the hallway – some running, some walking. Buffy sent Bess to retrieve her broad sword; the Slayer-vamp also picked up a machete, the two bowie knives, a dagger, a long handled, curve-bladed axe, and a scimitar (an Islamic curved sword) and brought the cache back to where Giles and Buffy waited by the door.
 
Buffy picked up the broad sword while Giles chose the scimitar and a bowie knife, Bess kept the machete and dagger, leaving the other bowie knife and the axe for Spike. When Spike rejoined them, Buffy stepped forward towards him. “Are you ok?” she asked, laying a hand over his where it pressed tightly against his abdomen.
 
“Never better…” Spike lied. “Our buddy Quentin ain’t looking so good, though…” In truth, Spike was hurting like a son-of-a-bitch … on the plus side, the blood he drained from Travers had given him a boost of energy and he could almost feel some of his smaller wounds starting to heal … finally. “What’s the plan?”
 
Buffy looked back at the door and at Giles and Bess, then turned back to Spike. “Kick ass … win … go home,” she stated simply, handing him the axe and bowie knife.
 
“My kinda plan…” Spike smirked, taking the weapons and tucking the knife in his belt at his back as he tested the balance and weight of the axe in his hands. He wasn’t sure he could actually swing it and not tear his guts out … literally, but he couldn’t rely on just the knife, either.
 
Suddenly the banging on the door began again and the heavy metal rods creaked eerily as they tried to hold off the onslaught.
 
“Ok … this is it,” Buffy announced, holding her sword at the ready. “Bess and I will take the lead … you cover our backs.”
 
“No … you can barely walk … it should be Bess and I in the lead,” Giles objected. “We’re the least injured.”
 
Buffy snorted a soft laugh. “Giles … no offense, but a Slayer, even an injured one, trumps a middle-aged Watcher,” Buffy informed him as she stepped up next to Bess, who held the machete with both hands, ready to strike.
 
“Bess should go first, Buffy … she’s got the Gem, she can’t be hurt – you can,” Spike pointed out, trying to get his wife to back up.
 
“No, we’ll stand together … we’ll be stronger that way, a unified front,” Buffy argued.

“Buffy, please … the little bit,” Spike begged her, pulling on her arm. “Let me stand with ‘er, then.”

  

Buffy turned and looked into his eyes. “My recklessness got us into this … let me at least help get us out. You can barely stand … you can’t swing a weapon … I’m alright – I can do it,” she assured him.
 
Spike sighed as he looked into her eyes; in their green depths was a bright flame, burning with determination and resolve. He’d seen that look before and he knew he’d never win this argument, that was her ‘don't fuck with my family’ face.
 
“Please be careful, pet,” he admonished her before dropping a soft kiss on her lips.
 
She gave him their normal reply, “It’s my middle name…” as she closed her eyes and leaned her forehead against his for a moment when the kiss broke.
 
Buffy took a deep breath and pulled away from her husband and turned to Giles, going back into battle mode. “You slide the rods out – top, bottom, and then middle. When they start in, we’ll pick them off one by one … or two by two,” Buffy continued. She looked at Bess … Dani’s older doppelganger … so young and yet so very old. “You ready?” she asked her daughter and Bess nodded resolutely. She’d been ready for this for over a century.
 
Giles went to the side of the door and pulled the top rod out, letting it fall to the floor with a clatter, then the bottom rod … he looked at Buffy and she nodded for him to continue. The door was barely holding against the pressure from the outside, she knew it would fly open as soon as that last rod was out. Giles pulled and tugged on it, but the pressure of the door against it was keeping it in place. Spike moved over next to him and together they pulled the last remaining rod away that was keeping the door closed.
 
The door flung open and banged hard against the stone wall behind it. As soon as it was open, Buffy and Bess lunged forward, their weapons thrusting hard and fast towards their captors who were surging quickly into the room from the sudden release of the pressure that had been holding the door closed. The insurgent’s deadly weapons drove forward towards the blondes’ torsos, just as Buffy and Bess’ deadly weapons powered outwards towards their captors.

 

From Spike’s position at the side of the door, everything seemed to move in slow motion as gleaming blades crossed the threshold. His throat and chest tightened and he suddenly regretted letting Buffy take the lead as he watched a deadly shaft of gleaming metal jab directly into her chest …

**~**
 
{{Click here to hear "Even the Losers” by Tom Petty on YouTube  }}



It was nearly summer, we sat on your roof,
Yeah, we smoked cigarettes and we stared at the moon,
I showed you stars you never could see.
It couldn't been that easy to forget about me.

Time meant nothing, anything seemed real.
Yeah, you kissed like fire and you made me feel
Like every word you said was meant to be.
It couldn't been that easy to forget about me.

Baby, even the losers, get lucky sometimes.
Baby, even the losers, keep a little bit of pride, they get lucky sometimes.

Two cars park on the overpass, rocks hit the water like broken glass.
I shoulda known right then it was too good to last,
God, it's such a drag when your living in the past.

Baby, even the losers, get lucky sometimes.
Even the losers, keep a little bit of pride, they get lucky sometimes.
End Notes:
TBC ... bet you figured that out though! Will have more soon! I can say that the gore is over; angst, not so much.
Takin' Up Space by Passion4Spike
Author's Notes:
Lead, follow or get out of the way … Faith gets the SOS, but will someone pay the ultimate price for Faith’s zeal to rescue her friends?
**
Zero Gore ...
**
Music Referenced:
Takin’ Up Space, Van Zant http://youtu.be/fXOcM7aHmbM
 **
ScreenCaps courtesy of ScreenCap Paradise:
http://www.screencap-paradise.com/?cat=3
About 14 hours earlier that same day …
Tuesday, April 27th, 2010, 3:00am, Sunnydale (11:00am London time):

 
Billy woke with a start from his dream … not so much because he was scared … although that was part of it, but because Bess said to hurry … tell Faith to hurry. Bess had been trying to get the message to Billy for what seemed hours … she wasn’t sure how long she’d been asleep or unconscious … she waited and waited for him to come, but he never showed. When the drugs from the tranquilizer dart wore off and she woke up, she forced herself back to sleep … back to wait for him to come to her in the dream … and finally, finally he did!
 
For a minute Billy forgot where he was, until he remembered they were staying over at Aunt Anya and Uncle Xander’s house while their parents were away. He was sleeping on a sleeping bag on the floor of JJ’s room while Dani and Annie slept in the spare bedroom.
 
Billy jumped up from his make-shift bed and went to find Aunt Anya or Uncle Xander. After knocking on their door for what seemed forever, a bleary-eyed Anya opened it. 

“Billy? What’s the matter? It’s not time to get up yet. I told you not to read Hansel and Gretel before bed …” she chastised him. “Your mother said it always gives you bad dreams.”
 
“No! It’s not that. I have to tell Aunt Faith to hurry!” Billy tried to explain as Anya turned him around by the shoulders and marched him back down the hallway towards the bathroom.

 

“We can tell her tomorrow, after school,” Anya replied dismissively, pressing him forward into the bathroom. “Now, pee so I can put you back to bed.”
 
“No! I don’t haveta pee!” Billy insisted, even though he actually did. “I haveta tell Aunt Faith about the watch bakers and to hurry!”
 
Anya sighed – having three extra kids was about to drive her insane. “Go pee. Baked watches can wait until tomorrow!”
 
“Today is tomorrow!” Billy pointed out.
 
“Later tomorrow … err… today!” Anya argued. “Now pee. You don’t want to wet your PJ’s do you?”
 
Billy scowled at her, but turned around and did as she said. When he was done, Anya marched him back to JJ’s room and pushed him gently through the door. “Go back to sleep now,” she told him, closing the door behind him and heading back to her room.

She thought taking care of one child and Xander was a lot of work … she’d only had Buffy and Spike’s rug-rats since Saturday night and she had discovered a new level of exhaustion she never knew existed. It took forever to do anything – watching TV was like refereeing a wrestling match, getting their baths took forever and usually ended up with someone running out of hot water, and getting them dressed for school in the morning was a nightmare all its own.

She’d never been more happy that Xander never did pull his lower lip up over his head and earn the right to insist they have more than the one. How Spike had talked Buffy into having so many kids was beyond Anya ... Buffy was obviously insane, either that or Spike had learned to pull his bottom lip over his head. She made a mental note to talk to Spike when he got back and make sure the vamp didn't share the secret of that talent with her husband.
 
Billy crossed his arms over his chest and stuck his lip out in a pout that could only come from the Summers blood in his veins when Anya closed the door. Bess said Papa told her to tell him to have Faith hurry to the watch bakers … or the … something about watches and bakers … or baked watches … that they were in trouble. He knew something was wrong when they didn’t call on Sunday or Monday and Annie was so worried she didn’t even argue to watch ‘So You Think You Can Dance’ or 'American Idol' … which were her favorite shows at the moment. He could tell the adults were concerned too, but they told Billy and his sisters that their parents had probably just gotten busy and they forgot the time change and then it got too late to call – that they’d probably call the next day.
 
Billy stomped one foot down and huffed then went back out in the hallway, this time heading to Annie and Dani’s room. He flipped on the overhead light and his sisters moaned tiredly. Was it time to get up for school already?
 
“Annie! Wake up!” Billy exclaimed, shaking her shoulder. “We haveta find Aunt Faith. Bess said that Papa said to hurry!”
 
“Huh?” Annie moaned, sitting up and rubbing the sleep from her eyes. Dani also sat up tiredly, trying to figure out what was going on.
 
“Papa told Bess to tell me to tell Aunt Faith to HURRY! We have to find her!” Billy explained clearly … or he thought it was perfectly clear, anyway.
 
“Papa?” Annie questioned. “You talked to Papa? On the phone? Why didn’t you get us up!?” Annie asked angrily.
 
“NOOOOOO! You aren’t listening!” Billy told her in exasperation, dropping his arms to his sides dramatically and stomping one foot on the floor. “In the dream … Bess told me that Papa said to tell Aunt Faith to hurry to the watch bakers … they were under the bakery and they need her to HURRY!”
 
“The watch bakers?” Annie questioned, trying to puzzle out what he was talking about. “You don’t bake watches…” she pointed out, then looked at Dani. “Do you know what he’s talking about?”
 
Dani shook her head … she had no idea what a watch baker was either.
 
“Plleeeaaase can we just call Aunt Faith?” Billy begged his older sister, folding his hands as if in prayer in front under his chin, tilting his head and giving Annie his best ‘lost puppy’ look.
 
Annie shrugged and got up out of bed and all three siblings padded down the stairs to the kitchen. Annie switched on the light and dialed Faith’s number, which was on the board next to the phone. Faith picked up just before it went to voice mail. “You better be dead, Xander … ‘cos otherwise I’m gonna kill you,” she muttered tiredly into the receiver.
 
“Aunt Faith, it’s me … Annie.”
 
“Cocobean?! What’s wrong?” Faith asked, using her nickname for the Weckerly’s eldest chocoholic child, suddenly alert.
 
“Billy had a dream and he said that the girl mom and dad went to find told him they were in trouble and needed you to come to the watch bakery…” Annie explained as clearly as she could.
 
“And HURRY!” Billy added, standing on tiptoes and yelling into the phone.
 
“The watch bakery?” Faith questioned. “A dream? Is he sure it was real and not just … you know, a dream? Did he eat too many Snickerdoodles before bed?”

 

“No … I think only one … he’s pretty sure it was real…” Annie assured her as Billy pulled the phone out of his sister’s hand.
 
“Bess said that Papa said for me to tell you to come to the watch baker ‘cos they needed help and they were under the bakery and hurry!” Billy related excitedly to Faith.
 
Faith sat up on the edge of her bed, which she’d only just fallen into an hour before, and rubbed tiredly at her eyes as she tried to figure out what he was talking about. “Are you sure she didn’t say the Watcher’s Council …” Faith questioned, realization dawning on her slowly, “… on Baker Street?” she asked Billy.
 
Billy furrowed his brows and pursed his lips together in thought. “Maybe …” he finally acquiesced. “But for sure she said ‘hurry’!”
 
“Ok … I’ll call Giles, see if he knows what’s going on … he called earlier too, wondering if we’d heard from them,” Faith told Billy.
 
“But you’ll hurry, right? Not tomorrow?” Billy questioned.
 
Faith snorted a soft laugh and nodded – and she thought Buffy was pushy when she was on a mission. “Yeah … not tomorrow,” Faith agreed. “Hey, Skywalker …”
 
“Yeah?” Billy answered.
 
“Don’t worry about anything. You dun good. Tell Bess to tell them we’re on the way, ok?” Faith assured him.
 
“Ok … thanks,” Billy sighed before handing the phone back to Annie to hang up.
 
“Does she know where the watch bakery is?” Dani questioned, worry creasing her features.
 
“Yeah … and not tomorrow,” Billy nodded, still worried, but satisfied that he’d completed his mission; it was his first.
 
**~**
 
“Hey … sorry but the fun’s over …you gotta go,” Faith announced to the long, lean, well-muscled, tan, curly-haired brunette on the other side of her bed, pushing on his shoulder. What was his name? Aidan? Hayden? Braden? Jaiden? … Definitely something-den.
 
“Awww … c’mon, baby … just let me rest a minute more and I guarantee lots more fun,” he protested.
 
“Seriously … get out,” Faith insisted, pushing him hard enough to roll him off the bed and onto the floor. She really had been counting on a few more rounds with the guy before kicking him out, he’d proven to be pretty talented, which was a little unusual – the cutest guys didn’t always have the best technique … oh well, maybe another time. “I’ll call you.”
 
“You’re brutal…” he moaned as he got up off the floor and started picking up his clothes and pulling them back on.
 
“You have no idea…” Faith muttered as she dialed Giles’ cell phone. When she got his voicemail, she left a message, letting him know what Billy had related and asking him to call her back. Next she called Wes, who was even less happy at being called in the middle of the night than she had been.
 
“Are you certain? The delivery method seems a bit … dubious,” Wes pointed out after she told him what was going on.

 

“Well, we haven’t heard anything from them in, like, two days,” Faith pointed out. “Giles didn’t even know where they were. Do you have any better explanation other than they found the dungeon, right where B thought it was, and now they’re ‘Monte Cristo-ing’ it too?”
 
Wes rolled his eyes. “I still find it difficult to believe the Council would partake in such … atrocities,” Wes argued.
 
“Well … then they won’t mind showing us their basement, will they?” Faith questioned.
 
“Let me call Quentin … I’m sure there’s some perfectly reasonable explanation …” Wes suggested.
 
“That’s fine … we can all call Q, but don’t tell him we’re on the way across the pond,” Faith warned him.
 
“Oh … are we on the way across the pond?” Wes wondered.
 
“We are … or will be, just as soon as I can get some of the other girls gathered up,” Faith informed him.
 
“How many girls are we taking?” Wes asked.
 
“As many as I can get away from their Watchers without raising suspicion … just girls I know, just ones I trust,” Faith advised, pretty much figuring that out on the fly. She’d have to get some Slayers to back her up … but not their Watchers. Most Watchers weren’t like Wes … most would blab … she needed the element of surprise on her side if what Billy said was true.
 
“I see … Do you really think a full-out assault is necessary … or wise?” Wes pondered.
 
“If you’re gonna go, go all the way,” Faith reminded Wes of her life’s mantra. “If you can’t run with the big dogs, stay on the porch.”
 
Wes rolled his eyes again as he pondered his Slayer’s plan; he wasn’t sure he’d ever get used to Faith’s … ‘colorfulness’ and willingness to jump in with both feet, regardless of who or what she was fighting. “How do you intend to afford tickets for an army to get to London without getting funds from the Council?” Wes continued, trying to be the voice of reason.
 
“That’s what rich relatives are for … I’ll call Will,” Faith assured him confidently. “And I only need an army of about … ten or twelve.”
 
Wes blew out a deep breath. “All right, if that’s what it will take to satisfy you….”
 
“Actually, what it would’ve taken to satisfy me just got kicked out of my bed … this is a far distant second,” Faith sighed before hanging up.
 
**~**
 
Willow and Tara, of course, agreed immediately to help out financially and get the Slayers that Faith needed to London. They also joined in the phone campaign, calling Travers to find out if he’d seen Buffy and Spike – but they could do nothing but leave messages, Mr. Travers, they were informed, would be in meetings all day. Willow even checked on getting the corporate jet to fly them … but that was just a little beyond her authority to swing without some valid business reason (which she didn’t have) and a few miles of red tape (which she didn’t have time for).
 
Faith began calling a select group of Slayers … ones that knew Buffy, ones that Faith trusted, ones that she knew she could count on 110% to keep their mouths shut and to fight whomever it was that had Spike and Buffy … ones that wouldn’t care if it was the Council they had to defeat. Of the list she called, she got a hold of Vi, Kennedy, Amanda, Molly, Rona, Dominique, Chao-ahn, and Caridad from the original group of Potentials that Buffy and Spike had trained at the Coven in Canada. Amanda and Vi were in California, but Chao-ahn was in China and the rest were scattered around the United States. They all agreed eagerly to help and understood the target and how important it was that they come without their Watchers or even tell them where they were going. Vi, Kennedy, and Amanda each had another trusted Slayer in their unit that they would bring with them, Faith dismissed Chao-ahn, it would just take too long to get her there, so that made a total of eleven Slayers, including Faith. That should be enough to storm a citadel of middle-aged, tweed-clad Watchers… eleven Slayers should be able to take it with one hand tied behind their backs and blindfolded.
 
As Faith confirmed with each Slayer, she texted the information to Willow … cities and names, and Willow and Tara set to work arranging flights … it was a logistical nightmare, but before long, each Slayer had their tickets to London waiting for them at the airport closest to where they lived. Faith texted everyone to meet at The Thornbury Castle in London, a pub not far from the Council headquarters that they were all familiar with from past trips. When she was done with that, Faith texted some other contacts she had in London that could provide them weapons … since they were traveling light and fast with just carry-on bags, there would be no way to bring weapons with them, with one exception: the scythe. Faith packed her own bag quickly and headed to the mansion to get the scythe … they’d gone through this before with it a time or two and had finally come up with documents about it being an ancient archaeological artifact, which wasn’t entirely untrue, and a crate that she could pack it in that the airlines would allow her to check through like luggage … for a hefty fee, of course. Before long, eleven Slayers and one Watcher were on their way to London …
 
“Oh shit!” Faith exclaimed just as they turned the seatbelt sign off after take-off.
 
“What?” Wes asked.
 
“I totally forgot to tell Anya that I couldn’t get the kids after school! Shit! She’s gonna kill me…” Faith moaned, rolling her eyes.
 
“That’s rather unlikely,” Wes pointed out as he picked up the Airphone from the back of the seat in front of him.
 
“Who you gonna call?” Faith questioned, with a roll of her eyes. “God, that phrase is never gonna be useable again, is it?”
 
“I sincerely doubt it,” Wes agreed before turning his attention to the unbelievably expensive call that was connecting. “Clem! It’s Wes … I didn’t wake you, did I? Good … listen, we have a small favor to ask. You get on well with Spike’s children, right?”
 
**~**
 
(Same day, 12 hours later), Tuesday, 11:00pm, London:
 
Wes rapped on the window next to the main entrance door of the Watcher’s Council headquarters with a coin, which sent the sharp sound echoing through the lower floor of the building … if anyone was in there, they would hear it. He’d rather not have to break in … which would sound an alarm, if someone was working late and could open the door for a fellow Watcher, that would be better. Faith and the rest of the Slayers waited just out of sight behind some bushes off to the side of the door … if Wes could get someone to open up, they were ready to storm in behind him.
 
After about five minutes of tapping on the glass and nearly giving up, Wes saw a security guard running down one of the hallways and he increased the tempo and strength of his knocking. The guard looked harried, but veered off from his original path and came up to the door. “Closed!” he announced tersely, waving his arms for Wes to go away.
 
“Yes, I know … I’m Wesley Wyndam-Pryce …” Wes informed him, holding up his official Watcher’s identification for him. “Philip was supposed to leave me a research book in his office … my flight was delayed or I would’ve been here earlier. If I could simply retrieve it…” Wes called to him through the door.
 
“We’re a little busy just now – come back in the mornin’,” the guard suggested and started to turn away.
 
“Pardon me! This is quite urgent … a matter of life and death,” Wes insisted through the door. “I assure you I won’t be a moment…”
 
The guard stopped and rolled his eyes. Everything was a matter of life and death with these berks… “Fine, hurry up, then,” the guard sighed as he punched a code in the alarm panel, disabling the alarm, and then unlocked the door.
 
Wes stepped into the doorway to keep the guard from closing it, then motioned for Faith and the other Slayers to hurry from their hiding place. Before the guard could react, he had his back against the wall and a blade pressed against his throat. The guard’s eyes were wide with fear and shock as Faith held the scythe against his jugular. This really wasn’t what he’d signed up for when he originally took this night-watchman job three years ago at the stodgy, upper-crust building in downtown. He had been in college and this seemed like the perfect job – it was quiet, nothing much to really do, he could study at night, attend classes in the morning and sleep in the afternoons. But it slowly turned into more than that as he rose in the ranks and pay scale and now he was in too deep; like the Mafia … you could join, but leaving (at least in one piece) wasn’t an option after a while.
 
“Where are they?” Faith demanded as she pressed the scythe against the frightened man’s throat.
 
“I don’t know what you’re…” he started.
 
“Don’t give me that company line!” Faith cut him off, as a trickle of blood mixed with the guard’s sweat and ran down the blade. “Do you know me?” she questioned.

 

The guard swallowed hard and shook his head ever so slightly, stopping abruptly when the blade bit into his flesh further.
 
“Well… Jim,” Faith began, reading his name from the nametag on his shirt. “Let me introduce myself. I’m Faith, the Vampire Slayer … ever heard of me?”
 
“No…” Jim whispered.
 
“Geez … a girl works all her life to get a bad-ass rep and for what?!” Faith moaned, rolling her eyes. “Well, here’s the 4-1-1 … I don’t follow the rules and when my friends send me SOS messages, I don’t stop until I find them. Now, you can tell me where they are, or we can send your body back to your family in little pieces …”
 
“I don’t …” Jim started again but stopped when he saw bright-hot anger flash through Faith’s eyes. “Who is it you’re looking for?” he asked, changing tactics.
 
“Buffy and Spike … she’s a Slayer, he’s a vamp. Perhaps they’re enjoying the accommodations of your dungeon …” Faith suggested.
 
“Dungeon?” the guard questioned, laughing nervously. “I’m just a night watchman … I don’t know anything …”
 
“Fine … then you becoming dead won’t be any great loss to anyone, will it?” Faith pointed out.
 
“I … wait! Really … I … my wife just had our first baby … I assure you I would tell you if I knew anything!” he argued.
 
“Yeah, I hear ya, but you know what? It seems to me that as soon as people step across that threshold,” Faith began, tilting her head towards the main door, “it turns them into gigantic dweebs who wouldn’t know the truth if it kicked them in the teeth,” Faith insisted, which caused Wesley to clear his throat and cough. “Almost everyone,” Faith amended.
 
“Search him!” Faith instructed no one in particular. Wes and Amanda stepped forward, one on each side and began pulling everything out of the guard’s pockets and off his belt… keys, wallet, some loose change, a cell phone, a pack of gum, and a retractable billy-club and a stun gun. Wes snapped the club to full length and looked at it closely, using his handkerchief to wipe it from bottom to top. He held the red-stained handkerchief up for Faith to see…
 
“You really should clean your weapons after you use them, Jim … just whose blood is that? I don’t see any knots on your hard head or teeth knocked out, so I’m gonna guess not Buffy or Spike … maybe Giles?” Faith surmised.
 
Faith looked at Wes. “Try Giles’ cell again.”
 
A few moments after Wes dialed the number of the new smart-phone that Willow had sent with Giles, they heard a sound coming from down the hall … a phone beeping. “Let’s go…” Faith directed, pushing the guard ahead of them and down the hall towards the sound. When voicemail came on, Wes hung up and dialed again just as the guard started past Travers’ office. Faith reached out and grabbed Jim by the back of the shirt and yanked him back and into the Council Head’s office. On the edge of the credenza behind the desk was Giles’ phone, ringing obediently.
 
“Ok … you’ve got one more chance to turn back into a human,” Faith told her new friend, Jim, as she picked up the phone and waved it in front of his face, a picture of Edmond flashing on the screen. Giles had replaced all the caller-id pictures on the phone with pictures of his son when he was playing with it on the plane. “Your wife just had a baby? Well Buffy and Spike have three worried munchkins waiting at home for them … and one on the way. Or hadn’t you noticed? Giles has a newborn baby boy waiting for him … I can promise you, that if they don’t make it back to their kids … neither will you.”
 
The guard looked from the phone back to Faith and swallowed hard. “If I tell you anything … they’ll … I won’t make it home either bloody way,” he explained, looking even more nervous than he had before. This really wasn’t what he’d planned for his life … isn’t it funny how, if you let it, life can take you in directions that you never intended to go? Landing you in destinations you didn’t even know existed prior to arrival.
 
“We can guarantee your safety … but we must have your full cooperation,” Wes assured him.
 
“No one can guarantee anything in this bloody place …” Jim moaned, rubbing tiredly at his eyes as he tried to think … think how to get out of this impossible situation.
 
“We don’t have all day here, buddy … take us to Buffy and Spike and you can go – disappear … start over,” Faith prodded him.
 
Finally, the guard looked up and met her eyes and nodded slightly, resigned to his fate. “There’s a key on the ring,” he started, indicating the keys that Amanda had in her hand, “the red one … fits a special lock in the lift … goes down below.”
 
“How many guards will we encounter? How are they armed?” Wes asked as he took the keys from the Slayer, found the red key and held it up.
 
Jim nodded, indicating that was the correct key, then shrugged. “Round-about … fifteen to twenty, I’d wager … every manner of weapon from wooden stakes to stun guns to cross-bows to knives…”
 
“Where exactly are our friends?” Faith questioned.
 
“Last I was down there, they were locked in the blue room with Mr. Weatherby … and some others. At the end of the corridor, last door on the left – can’t miss it,” the defeated guard told them. “That’s really all I bloody know …”
 
Faith turned to Vi. “Tie him up …” she instructed the red-head.
 
“Hey! You said I could go! Help you and I could go, disappear, leave bloody town!”Jim protested.
 
“You can … just as soon as we get our friends out. Can’t have you getting cold feet and calling someone to warn them we’re coming,” Faith explained.
 
“Awwww … bloody hell,” the guard moaned as Vi sat him down on the floor and tied his feet and hands securely. “You were right about one thing, everyone who comes through them bleedin’ doors is a liar…”
 
Almost everybody…” Faith corrected as Vi finished and the army of Slayers, along with Wes, started for the lift.
 
**~**
 
In the elevator, Wes opened the locked panel with the red key. Behind the panel was one additional button … also red. When all the Slayers were sardined into the lift, Wes pushed the button, the doors closed slowly and the antique elevator jerked and hesitated, then finally came to life and started its descent. Although they had been on the ground floor and were theoretically only going down one more level, it seemed to take forever on the old lift … like they were going down several stories at half the speed of … smell.
 
Faith rolled her eyes and sighed … when they were handing out ‘patience’, she’d jumped the turnstile and opted for a double dose of libido instead … there were times when she wished she’d stayed in that other line.
 
When the old lift finally jerked to a shaky stop, all the Slayers stood on pins and needles … ready to pounce … and they stood, and stood …
 
“Jesus H. Christ,” Faith moaned as she pressed the button to open the doors, but still nothing happened. About the time Faith started to slide the blade of the scythe between the two doors to pry them open, the old elevator seemed to free-fall another couple of feet, knocking all the Slayers slightly off balance, before the doors opened slowly … making a grinding sound like stone sliding over stone.
 
Right outside the lift were four guards, waiting for it to arrive … luckily, they were just as unprepared to meet the Slayers in the lift as the Slayers were to meet them at that moment, but both groups recovered quickly as Faith, Kennedy, and Amanda stepped out of the elevator first. They had discussed their plan at the pub … try to disarm and disable any humans they encountered without actually hurting them … if that wasn’t possible, defend yourself fully.

  

Faith dropped one hand off the scythe and swung a fist at the guard closest to her, catching him in the jaw and sending him spinning backwards … and the battle was on. Amanda and Kennedy also punched the guard closest to them as they rushed out of the small lift and into the antechamber of the dungeon itself; the same room Billy had first brought Spike and Buffy in his dream, the room Buffy and Spike had chiseled the doors open on when they first broke in from the bomb shelter.

The fourth guard turned and ran back through the heavy metal doors that led to the cellblock as he pressed the alarm button. He stopped on the other side of the doors and tried to close them, secure them. Normally, they were always locked, but there had been so much activity the last couple of days, that it had just been too much of a hassle to keep locking and unlocking them, so someone had finally made the executive decision to leave them open. The guard got the first door closed and nearly had the second one secure when three of the Slayers hit it full force, sending the door banging open violently and knocking him down on his ass.
 
“C’mon!” Faith yelled at her group as she kicked the downed guard in the jaw hard enough to knock him out as she went by.
 
Halfway down the long corridor that led to the blue and white rooms, with cells filled with vampires on each side of them, the small army of Slayers were met with a larger army of guards. Jim had told them fifteen to twenty … Faith guessed there were at least thirty coming at them with weapons drawn.
 
“Do what you have to!” Faith instructed her small but powerful army as she hit the first man that reached her with the flat side of the scythe. Soon Slayers and guards were embroiled in a battle of life and death. The guards were better trained and better armed than Faith had envisioned, but her Slayers were equally well armed, skilled, and powerful. It would’ve been a simple exercise if there had been fewer guards or if the Slayers weren’t holding back, trying to disarm and neutralize, but not permanently injure or kill them. With so many fighters crammed into such tight quarters, each Slayer’s attention was being pulled in two or three directions at once while, at the same time, trying to remember these were humans, not vamps … and nearly all the guards seemed to have stun guns. Many of the Slayers were hit with the electric shocks … if it was just on the arm or leg, it wasn’t so bad – it hurt like a motherfucker, but didn’t take them down, but if the guards got lucky and hit their neck or chest, the Slayer would collapse like a house of cards.
 
Then, from out of nowhere, tranquilizer darts started flying into the fighting throng of Slayers and guards … some hit guards, some hit Slayers. Uninjured and untranqed Slayers pulled the darts out of the ones that got hit as quickly as they could, but before long there were only four Slayers left standing … and still over a dozen guards.
 
The floor of the corridor was littered with unconscious and injured combatants, making movement for those left standing difficult. Faith, Amanda, Kennedy, and Vi stood in a small circle, their backs up against each other as they faced the remaining guards. They were bruised and bloody and exhaustion was starting to set in as their chests heaved with exertion from the fight. The guards lunged towards them with swords and knives, daggers and clubs and the girls parried their thrusts as they tried to exact some damage of their own each time a guard came within reach.
 
Suddenly, the tranquilizer darts, which had stopped flying a few minutes ago, began again – hitting first one guard, then another … then another. Faith looked past the guards and further down the hall and breathed out a small sigh of relief – Wes had the tranq gun. He’d stayed back in the antechamber when the Slayers charged down the hallway. When another guard emerged from the elevator with a tranquilizer gun, Wes had fought with him … and finally won, taking control of the weapon and tranqing the guard in the process.
 
As their buddies fell, the remaining guards who were between Wes and the Slayers turned their backs on the Slayers to see who it was that was such a bad shot with that damn tranquilizer gun. When they realized it wasn’t their man with it, they started towards Wes as he reloaded the gun. As soon as they turned their back on Faith and Vi, who were facing that direction, the two Slayers left their position with their backs against Kennedy and Amanda and took the offensive away from the guards that remained on their side of the hallway.
 
Still trying to not actually kill them or hurt the humans too badly, but simply incapacitate them, Faith and Vi used night sticks that, by now, littered the floor of the hallway. The Slayers hit the guards in the back of their heads as they rushed away from them and towards Wesley … knocking three more of them out cold and sending two more scrambling to try and get away from them.
 
All the uproar in the hallway, along with the presence of so many Slayers, had all the vampires in the cellblock agitated, on the verge of being incensed. They yelled and screamed and reached out through their bars at the fighters … neither guards nor Slayers were immune from being grabbed, tripped, and scratched by the caged vamps that lined the corridor. In his effort to escape the Slayers, one of the guards got too close to the bars and the vamp inside took full advantage. The guard screamed out as the vamp caught him around the ankles and tripped him, sending the exhausted guard down on his face and chest. The vamp roared in victory as he pulled one of the guard’s legs through the bars up to mid-thigh. Before Faith could react, the vamp had sunk his fangs into the back of the guard’s leg, finding the femoral artery on the inside of his lower thigh.
 
The guard screamed out as he tried to kick at the vamp to get free – he tried to turn over to hit the vamp with his billy club through the cell bars, but the angry vampire was too strong and his fangs were sunk too deep into the guard’s flesh. Faith rushed up and slammed the nightstick she had down on the back of the vamp’s head through the bars as Vi continued after the other guard that was still headed towards Wesley. The vamp screamed out and released his hold on the guard and Faith pulled the frightened man away from the demon and back to the center of the corridor, trailing a wide swath of blood in his wake.
 
As Faith was trying to stem the bleeding by cinching the guard’s belt around his upper leg, she suddenly heard sounds of renewed fighting, along with panicked screams, coming from down the hall where she and Vi had left Kennedy and Amanda. When she looked up, she saw Kennedy and Amanda trying to drag the downed Slayers that still littered the floor away from a throng of incensed and hungry vampires that were closing in on them from the other end of the corridor.
 
“What the fuck!?” Faith screamed as she jumped up and started back towards them. “VI! WES!” she called back over her shoulder, jumping over the prone bodies of Slayers and guards alike as she flew back to help the other two.

 

“What the fuck happened?!” Faith questioned, but there was no time for anyone to answer her as she put herself between the vampires and Kennedy and Amanda, who were trying to fight them off and pull their unconscious friends away from the danger at the same time.
 
Faith’s question was answered when she saw most of the cell doors on the other end of the dungeon had been opened, freeing the vampires. Apparently, the guards on Kennedy and Amanda’s side had retreated down the hallway, freeing the vampires as they went. Why fight yourself when you have a small army of demons that would be happy to do it for you?
 
Faith began swinging the scythe with wild abandon at the necks of the approaching mob, turning two or three at a time into piles of dust … but still more came. She could hear Vi and Wes, along with Kennedy and Amanda behind her, trying to get all the unconscious Slayers away … back down the hall to the antechamber. They were leaving the guards … they’d have to come back for them … if they could.
 
Faith stood her ground, digging deeper than she’d ever done before as she took on the horde of vamps all by herself. She was exhausted … she felt like she’d been running full speed since Annie had called her and Billy delivered his message. Even on the plane she couldn’t really relax … actually, just sitting and waiting was just as mentally exhausting as actually doing something. Faith swung the scythe again and again as the vamps closed in on her … where were they all coming from? How many were here!? She was on autopilot now … pure adrenaline seemed to course through her veins and she barely even felt it when the vamp’s fists and feet and fangs connected with her flesh and bone – until she found herself flat on her back, her legs kicked out from under her.
 
Before Faith could spring back to her feet, she was blanketed with growling, hungry vamps that were fueled by the sweet aroma of Slayer blood. She struggled under them, managing to stake one or two, but she could feel the fangs of the others slicing into her flesh … her legs, her arms, her torso … her neck. It seemed no matter how much she struggled, kicked, punched, stabbed at the throng, even if she dislodged or dusted one, there were two waiting to take its place. Faith could feel her strength fading … her adrenaline high waning, as she used every last bit of energy she had to fight … but it was no use, there were too many.

 

Faith remembered Buffy telling her that when she died fighting Glory that she had a feeling of complete peace … that she knew it was what she had to do and that she’d never felt more sure of anything in her life. Faith didn’t feel that way at all… she felt cheated. Cheated out of a life full of Aidens …or Bradens … or whatever-the-hell his name was, cheated out of reaching her goal of sleeping with every hard-bodied male in southern California … maybe even all of California – hell, maybe even the whole United States! She’d tried love once and once had been enough for her – Angel cured her of that crazy notion, but she’d never be cured of wanting to feel a hard body under her, pressing inside her. Love was ok for Buffy and Spike … they’d always been sentimental saps … and even Xander and Anya and Willow and Tara, but she just wasn’t a ‘love’ kinda girl … was she?
 
Faith suddenly felt an awful realization descend on her heart as the vamps drained her life's blood … all those guys were just a smoke screen, her tough talk and flippant attitude, just a defense mechanism … she did want love. She suddenly wanted that feeling of walking on air that you can only get when you’re in love; she wanted to have a silly grin plastered on her face that you can’t wipe off no matter what, she wanted someone to know her … she wanted someone to let her into their heart, she wanted to let someone into hers. And now it was too late …
 
From somewhere deep within her a desperate, angry scream pierced the damp, dank air of the dungeon and the adrenaline that she thought had run dry suddenly surged within her again. As Faith began fighting with every ounce of blood, sweat, and tears she had left, she suddenly felt dust raining down on her from above. She closed her eyes and began gagging and choking as her face was covered with it, filling her nose, eyes, and mouth with dry grit. Then she felt herself being dragged out from under the remaining vamps and someone was yelling at her to let go of the scythe and pulling it from her hand. She could hear the other Slayers, Vi, Kennedy, and Amanda, fighting the vamps and Wes telling her to try and breathe normally as he pressed a palm on a particularly deep bite wound on her neck. Faith continued to cough dust from her lungs as tears streamed from her eyes … if she had been asked, the tears were from the grit that filled them … but deep inside she knew they were more than that – they were tears of relief … tears of frustration and regret and epiphany and perhaps more than a little fear – not fear of the vamps, but of the epiphany.
 
Faith blinked and rubbed at her eyes to try and clear them as she started to stand up.
 
“You’re injured, just stay still,” Wes instructed her, pressing down on her shoulder to keep her in a sitting position.
 
“They need help …” Faith insisted, trying again to stand.

 

“No, actually … they don’t,” Wes assured her, tilting his head towards the Slayers who were fighting the remaining vamps about ten feet away from where Wes had dragged Faith.
 
When Faith looked, she could just barely make out Amanda through the cloud of dust, swinging the scythe like it was an extension of her own body, dusting the last three remaining vamps with one blow as Kennedy and Vi flanked her, wielding stakes.

 

When the dust had settled, literally, they had managed to save all the Slayers but had lost five of the guards to the vamps. Faith leaned tiredly against the cell bars at her back and closed her eyes. She’d never been in that epic a battle and never been that close to death since soulless Angel had attacked her and put her in a coma …
 
“Here…” Amanda offered, kneeling down next to Faith and extending the scythe to the elder Slayer.
 
Faith opened her eyes and took the magical weapon from the girl’s hands. As Faith gripped it firmly with both of her hands, as Buffy had shown her to do, she felt a surge of magic prickle her fingertips and rush through her whole body. Faith could actually feel her bruised and torn muscles mending, feel her skin closing and healing as she held the scythe … the only thing it couldn’t fix was the empty feeling that had opened up in her soul – that feeling of desperation and loneliness that she never allowed herself to feel before, wouldn’t be wiped away so easily.
 
Faith released one hand from the scythe, breaking the magical circuit and took a deep breath as she looked around her. Wes had a black eye and a split lip from the fight he’d had with the guard with the tranquilizer gun, there were still only four Slayers standing … the rest were either still knocked out or woozy from the Phenobarbital cocktail they’d been injected with from the darts. The scythe didn’t seem to have any effect on that … just like it didn’t seem to help a hangover (yeah, Faith had tried it, even though Buffy told her it didn’t work).
 
Faith pushed herself up as Kennedy, Amanda, and Vi waited for her to tell them what to do next.
 
“Jim said they were in the blue room at the end of the hall …” Faith began as she started walking determinedly down the long corridor, now ankle deep in vampire dust. “That’s probably where the rest of the guards retreated to, so we need to go in guns a’ blazin’,” she advised as the other three Slayers fell into step with her.
 
The others nodded their agreement, each picking up a new weapon as they made their way across the battlefield. Tucking the stakes into their waistbands, they gathered up swords, daggers, stun guns, and billy clubs along the way. At the end of the hallway, they found two doors …they ignored the white one, concentrating on the blue. The four Slayers pushed and kicked at the heavy door, but it wasn’t budging. Faith tried to pry it open with the scythe, but it moved only slightly … but they were determined, they wouldn’t give up.

 

Suddenly, the door began to give under their pressure and the Slayers redoubled their efforts. “Get ready…” Faith admonished them when she felt the door giving. “They’re gonna be waiting … we have to strike first … ask questions later,” Faith instructed and all the Slayers nodded their agreement … this was no time to show mercy, they’d nearly lost the last battle trying to hold back and not kill anyone … they weren’t holding back any longer.
 
Suddenly the door gave way and swung open, clanging loudly on the stone wall behind it and Faith and Amanda both lunged forward, their weapons thrusting through the doorway to take down whatever or whoever was in between them and their friends.
 
Faith’s eyes went wide with surprise as she and the leader of the opponents on the other side of the door both tried to stop their deadly thrusts at the last moment … but it was too late.
 
“B!”
 
“Faith!”
 
**~**
 
{{Click here to hear "Takin’ Up Space’ by Van Zant on YouTube  }}

That Friday night seemed just like any other
Friday night.
Jimmy wasn't gonna play,
Sittin on the bench, chompin at the bit,
knowin he was better.
5'6" goin on six eight.
A man went down, Jimmy went in,
third and long, first and ten,
Crowd went wild, Touchdown!
Jimmy said, "I came to win"

chorus:
If you're gonna go, go all the way.
If you're gonna stay, stand your ground.
If you can't run with the big dogs,
big dog, let me walk you out.
If ya can't lead, let me by you.
If ya won't follow, get outta the way.
You're takin up space.

Shelly had her daddy's money waitin,
All she had to do was share his chair,
She had a dream that he didn't want her chasin,
She was a night school millionaire,
she worked two jobs, to pay her way,
Stayed up late to make the grade,
graduated Suma Cum Laude
PhD the hard way!

(repeat chorus)

bridge:
Life's too short to live in caution,
But life's too long not to live at all!

(repeat chorus)

Oh you're takin up space
GET OUT THE WAY!
End Notes:
TBC ... well - the calvary has arrived! Will 'friendly fire' be just as devastating though? Will have more soon ... You wanted an end to the gore, it's ended ... I hope you don't get bored now!!
If I Were Brave by Passion4Spike
Author's Notes:
Slayer meets Slayer … sword meets scythe – will they all survive?
**
Warning: There is NO EVIL CLIFF HANGER here ... my deepest apologies!
**
Music Referenced:
If I Were Brave by Jana Stanfield: http://youtu.be/0Nx4JkCALec
 **
ScreenCaps courtesy of ScreenCap Paradise:
http://www.screencap-paradise.com/?cat=3
**
Special thanks to 'epd4' for betaing this chapter!!
Wednesday, April 28th, 2010, 12:30am, London:
 
“NOOOO!” Spike screamed as he lunged forward and yanked the scythe from Faith’s hands with both of his, hitting her in the jaw with one fist wrapped around the shaft as he jerked it away and pulled the blood-stained blade from his wife’s torso. Buffy’s eyes were wide with fear and pain as she dropped her own sword and clutched her chest, blood seeped through her fingers as she sunk slowly to the floor. Faith was no better … Buffy’s sword had sunk deep into Faith’s stomach, just below the ribcage, and she dropped to the floor like a lead balloon when Spike hit her. Bess’ sword had missed the mark somewhat, hitting Amanda in the shoulder. Amanda had hit her mark perfectly … a direct hit in the middle of Bess’ sternum, but when Spike surged between the fighters, the sword had been knocked out and Bess’ wound healed almost immediately.
 
Suddenly everyone was talking and yelling at once as Slayers and Watchers rushed to the aid of their friends, but Spike could hear none of it – he could only hear Buffy’s heart racing and fluttering with fear, he could only smell her blood, he could only feel her pain. Spike dropped the scythe and caught Buffy just before she hit the ground. He could feel his own ‘stitches’ tearing through his flesh, but the only thought in his mind was for her and their baby. Spike sank to the floor with her, holding her against him and pressing his hands down on top of hers to stem the flow of blood, which seemed to be coming directly from her heart.
 
“Buffy … God, Buffy, please …no,” Spike prayed as he held her against him.
 
Buffy coughed and blood splattered a brilliant red veil over Spike's chest and ran down Buffy's chin. “Scythe …”she moaned, pulling one hand out from under his and reaching for the weapon.
 
Spike reacted immediately … it hadn’t even registered that the weapon he’d pulled from the ‘enemy’s’ hand was the scythe. He reached for it at the same time Wes did and for a brief moment there was a struggle for the healing relic, but the struggle was over in an instant when Spike growled low and threatening and jerked the weapon away from the Watcher.
 
Spike held it up in front of Buffy and helped his wife grip it tightly with both hands. She closed her eyes and leaned her head tiredly against her husband as she waited for the weapon's healing power to flow into her. It only took a moment for her to feel the Guardian’s magic surging out from the ancient artifact and through her body, causing her whole body to tense. It felt like pins and needles prickling her skin as the wounds and infection on her back healed, as the swelling and bruising on her knees and jaw cleared, and the bleeding from her chest slowed then stopped completely.
 
Buffy’s chest heaved as her breathing quickened and her heart raced even faster with the effect of the magic. She tried to release her grip on the scythe, but it seemed welded to her hands for a few moments before she was finally able to toss it away, over towards Wes and Faith. Buffy collapsed back against Spike, trying to slow her breathing and heart rate back to normal after the adrenaline rush of the magic, and Spike wrapped his arms back around her tightly. As Buffy’s heart slowed, Spike could hear the baby’s heart beating strong and steady along with his wife’s. Spike pulled in a deep breath as he buried his face in her long hair, relief washing over him and bringing tears to his eyes; he would’ve never forgiven himself if anything had happened to either of them – Buffy or the baby.
 
Wes immediately grabbed the scythe when Buffy dropped it and pressed it into Faith’s hands as Kennedy kept pressure on the wound in the elder Slayer’s stomach. Faith fought to remain conscious, but the floor had begun spinning not long after Spike had hit her and she felt like she was free-falling through a wormhole in deep space, with bright lights flashing by at warp speed. She swallowed hard and concentrated on holding onto the scythe when Wes pressed it into her hands until she felt the now familiar crackle of magic surge out of it and into her. Slowly, the floor stopped spinning and the feeling of falling through space was replaced with the feeling of a cold, damp, hard floor at her back. When Kennedy announced that her wound was healed, Faith released one hand from the scythe, breaking the magical circuit, as she tried to catch her breath from the adrenaline that surged through her.
 
Wes helped Faith sit up and took the scythe and gave it to Amanda to heal her shoulder as Kennedy and Vi kept an eye down the hall for more guards or vampires.
 
Faith looked over at Buffy and the two Slayer’s eyes met across the short space. “Sooo … you guys been having a fun vacation?” Faith asked sarcastically.

 

Buffy snorted a soft laugh and rolled her eyes. “A giggle a minute … I honestly don’t know why this place isn’t in the Zagat’s guide…”
 
**~**
 
After regrouping and introducing Bess to Faith and the others, the Slayers turned their attention to the last door – the white door. Since the guards weren’t in the blue room, they must’ve gone into that room. By now, most of the other Slayers that Faith had brought with her had recovered from the tranquilizer darts and rejoined the group. Faith, Vi, Amanda, Kennedy, and Bess led the charge into the white room … Spike steadfastly refused to allow Buffy to go. Period. In all honesty, Buffy didn’t put up much of an argument … she’d had too many close calls these last days, her luck was surely running thin.
 
Giles, Wes, Spike, and Buffy waited in the blue room as the other Slayers charged through the door of the last room in the dungeon. Within moments, several of the younger, less experienced Slayers came running back out of the room, holding their hands over their mouths and trying hard not to puke … most of them didn’t succeed in their attempt to hold the bile back.
 
Buffy’s brows furrowed … what could be in there that was so vile to cause that reaction? Buffy grabbed up her sword and ventured cautiously out of the blue door and looked around the corner into the room next door. What had once been a sterile white floor was stained blood red … the drained bodies of Watchers and guards littered the room like yesterday’s newspaper. Up in the mezzanine, Buffy could see Slayers fighting with vamps … apparently quite a few of the vamps that the guards had released to fight the Slayers had turned on them – followed them into the white room during their retreat, and massacred everyone in there.
 
“Dear Lord…” Giles muttered as he came up behind Buffy and looked past her into the room.

 

“Pretty sure he didn’t have anything to do with any of it,” Buffy mumbled. “Stay here,” she ordered before she moved into the room, going from body to body, checking for survivors … there were none.
 
Buffy could hear the Slayers up above as they fought the vamps … one would call for ‘a little help’ … then there would be silence for a moment, just the sounds of the fighting filled the large area … then someone would yell out in pain or victory, then more sounds of the struggle until finally everything above went silent. Buffy heard Faith checking on her troops and doors above her opening and closing as they checked for more vamps in the private offices that ringed the balcony.
 
“We’ve got some live ones!” Faith announced after several minutes of searching.
 
“More vamps?” Buffy questioned from the floor below.
 
“No … guards and … doctors?” Faith called down.
 
Within a minute, several guards, a couple of Watchers, and what appeared to be three doctors in white lab coats, made their way down a hidden staircase and emerged at the back of the room, shaken but unhurt. They’d barricaded themselves in a maintenance closet when the vamps had attacked and had stayed there.
 
“This is it,” Faith affirmed when she emerged from the stairway behind the group. “This is all that’s left.”
 
Until the Sunnydale group could come up with some plan, the surviving guards, Watchers, and doctors were placed in the empty cells in the dungeon and secured there for now.
 
As Faith was leading one Watcher into Buffy’s old cell, Buffy stopped her and went in first. Going to her cot, she picked up the pillow from it and brought it out of the cell before letting Faith lock the woman in there.
 
Spike looked at her with confusion when she left his side to retrieve the pillow and now cocked a brow at it when she returned. “Souvenir?” he questioned as he wrapped an arm back around her shoulders for support.
 
“Weapon…” Buffy explained, pulling the pillow out of the pillowcase to leave just a sack full of all the hard, granny smith apples that she’d saved from all her meals.
 
Spike laughed lightly and shook his head … only Buffy could make a weapon out of her food.
 
“Never got to try it out,” she pouted, swinging it slowly by her side and testing the weight. “I really wanted to beat Travers’ hard head with it.”
 
“Sorry, luv … didn’t mean to take your fun away,” Spike apologized.

 

Buffy shrugged as the pair began walking slowly down the hallway towards the antechamber, Spike leaning heavily on her for support with one arm and holding his ravaged abdomen with the other. “It’s ok, in the end he got what he deserved,” she assured him. “I mean, who knocks someone’s tooth out then brings them crunchy apples to eat? What did he really expect?!”
 
**~**
 
Tuesday, 6:30pm, Sunnydale (2:30am Wednesday, London):
 
Clem opened empty cupboard after empty cupboard, then stood with the fridge door open, staring at the nearly empty shelves. Had Faith ever heard of grocery shopping? What had she been feeding these kids? He pulled three packs of dairy-free, instant pudding out of one cabinet … chocolate, pistachio, and coconut; from another cabinet he got a box of Oreo cookies and a large bag of gummy worms. In the fridge he found two beers, a container of almond milk and little else other than condiments and something in a Tupperware container that looked like it had come over on Noah’s Ark … it was a bit green and slimy, and he was pretty sure whatever it was wasn’t supposed to be green and slimy.
 


Clem took one of the beers out, opened it, and took a long drink as he looked at the collection on the counter … he was no expert, but that didn’t look like it would really fulfill the USDA’s food pyramid for proper human nutrition.
 
“What’s for dinner?” JJ whined from behind Clem. “I’m hungry!”
 
Clem thought of loading the kids up and going to Mickey-D’s … or to the grocery store, but his car wasn’t that big and the idea of driving with four kids in there with him was a bit daunting. Maybe he could have a pizza delivered... oh no, Dani can’t eat pizza … no cheese. Hmmm… do they make cheese-less pizza? Maybe Chinese food…
 
Dani and Billy came into the kitchen behind JJ and Dani’s eyes went wide. “OH! Are we having ‘Worms in Mud’?” she asked excitedly, clapping her hands and bouncing on her toes.
 
“Huh?” Clem questioned looking at her then back to the stuff on the counter.
 
“Worms in Mud!” Dani repeated. “Papa made it on Halloween! It’s the best!”
 
Clem furrowed his brow and looked back at the stuff on the counter … almond milk … that was protein, right? And sort of dairy? And the cookies … they were made from wheat … that was a grain. And the pudding, it had sugar in it … wasn’t sugar technically a vegetable? I mean they make it from cane, which is a plant! Plus … pistachio … that was a nut … and green, too, almost like lettuce. And wasn’t chocolate made from coco beans? Beans … those are protein rich, right? And coconut … that was definitely a fruit … wasn’t it? Hell … that just about totally covered that food pyramid after all, and Spike had made it before, so it must be okay.

 

“How do you make it?” he questioned the excited girl.
 
“You smoosh the cookies into crumbs and put the pudding on top and put the worms in the mud and then put more cookie crumbs …” Dani explained clearly.
 
Clem scrunched up his nose. “Huh?”
 
Just then Annie came in to see what was going on. “Do you know how to make Worms in Mud?” he asked the elder girl.
 
Annie looked at the stuff on the counter and her eyes went wide … chocolate! Chocolate pudding and Oreos! Yay! Dani could have all her worms, just like at Halloween … she just wanted the chocolate. “Yeah … the recipe’s in the drawer …” she offered, opening a drawer that was full of papers of all types – hand written index cards, stuff cut off various boxes, pages from magazines … Annie rummaged through until she found the right paper and handed it to Clem.
 
“I get the chocolate, Dani likes the pistachio with extra worms, Billy likes the coconut, and JJ likes them all mixed together,” she explained as Clem scanned the simple instructions … this was gonna be easy-peasy.

** Worms In Mud **

Ingredients

12 chocolate cream-filled sandwich cookies
1 (3.9 ounce) package instant pudding mix (chocolate or flavor of choice)
2 cups milk
1 (3 ounce) package gummy worms candy


Directions

· Place the chocolate sandwich cookies into a resealable plastic zipper bag, and crush with a rolling pin into crumbs. For a more mudlike appearance, untwist the cookies and scrape off the creme filling before crushing cookies.

· Whisk together the pudding mix with the milk in a bowl, stirring for 2 minutes. Sprinkle about 1/3 of the crushed sandwich cookie crumbs into the bottom of a serving bowl, and spoon the pudding over the crumbs. Smooth out the top of the pudding, then top with the rest of the chocolate cookie crumbs to resemble dirt. Poke gummy worms halfway into the dirt. Refrigerate until serving.

Yields: 4 servings

 
Clem got three large mixing bowls from the cupboard and sat them down on the kitchen table, then he emptied one pack of the instant pudding mix into each, added the almond milk and gave each of the Weckerly kids a spoon to start stirring with. As they worked on mixing the milk and the pudding (a lot of which ended up on the table and floor and all over the kids, but hey... whatever), he had JJ crush the cookies up in a Ziplock bag.
 
Clem did a final stir of the puddings with a whisk to get the remaining lumps out, then spooned some of the pudding from each of the bowls into a fourth bowl for JJ … then he just let the kids top it however they wanted … with as many worms and as much ‘cookie dirt’ as their hearts desired. When they were done, each child had a huge mixing bowl full of sugary goodness, which they dug into giddily. Clem was the best babysitter ever!
 
Clem leaned back against the counter smugly and took another long swig of beer as he watched the kids eat. What was the big, hairy deal? Faith had been complaining about how hard it was to feed them … Dani couldn’t have milk or cheese, JJ didn’t like anything green, Billy wouldn’t eat garden peas or whole corn ‘because I can feel their guts squish out in my mouth’ … She obviously just didn’t know the secret to feeding children properly … this was gonna be a breeze.
 
Just as the kids were really digging into their ‘meal’, the phone began ringing. Annie jumped up from her seat and ran to answer it, hopeful that it was Aunt Faith with good news.
 
“Hello?” she answered, her voice full of hopeful anticipation mixed with a little fear that the news wouldn’t be good, after all.
 
“’Ello Niblett,” Spike drawled on the other end when he heard her voice, tears stinging his eyes. He had been pretty sure he’d never hear her voice again – and more than ‘pretty sure’ he would never get out of that dungeon in one piece.
 
“PAPA!” Annie yelled back excitedly, jumping up and down. “Where have you been!? We were so worried and Billy had a dream and said you needed Aunt Faith at the watch bakers and to hurry! Are you okay? Is mama there?”
 
When all the guards, doctors, and Watchers had been secured, the rescuers and rescuees gathered in one of the conference rooms up on the first floor of the Council building to try and figure out what to do next. The first order of business was for Buffy and Spike to call home …
 
“We’re fine, pet,” Spike lied as he held his abdomen, which had started bleeding again from where he’d torn the stitches earlier. “Your mum’s here, she’s fine … we just had a bit of a row with the locals, but everything’s brilliant now. No worries,” Spike assured her.

 

“When are you coming home?” Annie questioned as Clem, Billy, Dani, and JJ came out of the kitchen into the great room to listen, too.
 
“Not sure yet, pet, but won’t be long,” Spike hedged. He really didn’t want the kids to see him this beat up … and they still had to figure out what to do with the Watchers and the doctors that were left in the dungeon and restore Bess’ soul and get her a passport...
 
“Did you save the girl?” Annie wondered.
 
“Yeah … well, more like the girl saved us, but she’s out of danger now – we all are,” Spike assured her again. “Is Junior there?”
 
“Yeah … hang on.” Annie started to hand the phone to Billy but then pulled it back.
 
“Papa?”
 
“Yeah, Niblett?”
 
“I love you,” Annie told him, her voice breaking with tears of relief that they were ok.
 
“Moi aussi, je t'aime … beaucoup … tons and tons,” Spike replied, using Buffy’s rough translation, as he clenched his jaw and blinked back tears of his own.
 
“Papa?” Billy called tentatively when Annie handed him the receiver.
 
“Hey, little man – do ya feel any different?” Spike questioned his son, wiping the tears from his eyes and forcing his voice to sound cheerful.
 
“Different than what?” Billy replied softly, not sure what he meant.
 
“Different than yesterday,” Spike clarified. “You’re an official member of the Scooby gang now – a Scooby-pup! Got one mission under your belt, you do. You were very brave … we’re right proud of you, your mum and me.”
 
Billy smiled brightly, his eyes going wide. “For real?!”
 
“For real,” Spike agreed. “We’ll get you an official super-Scooby decoder ring when we get back, yeah? And maybe a lightsaber…”




 

“Awesome!” Billy gushed, proud of himself for not letting Aunt Anya delay him from completing his first official mission. “Annie and Dani helped,” he admitted to his father.
 
“Ah, well then … I reckon you’ll all haveta get official decoder rings, yeah?”
 
Billy smiled even wider. “Yeah … we’re all brave, Scooby-pups!”
 
Spike laughed as he fought to keep his emotions from overwhelming him. He hadn’t wanted to put that much pressure on his boy, but he couldn’t think of any other way to get a message to Faith. If something had gone wrong, if Faith hadn’t gotten there, if he and Buffy hadn’t made it out, the guilt and feeling of failure might have been something Billy may not have ever been able to recover from. Spike was thrilled and proud to hear that the girls had helped their brother, that they’d worked together to complete the mission, just as Buffy had always had her friends and family helping her.

“You’re all chips off the ole Slayer block,” Spike agreed finally, swallowing back a lump of pride that swelled within him for their children.
 
Spike and Buffy both talked to all the kids, including JJ, and assured them all that they were alright, they would be home as soon as possible, and that they loved them very much and admonished them to be good for Clem and Anya.
 
“Clem’s the best sitter ever!” Dani proclaimed to her mother near the end of the call.
 
“He is? Why is he so great?” Buffy wondered as her heart soared. There had been more than one moment during the last three days that she’d doubted she’d ever hear her children’s voices again. She’d fought her doubts, tried to stay positive and battled her own inner demons that made her question her ability to survive their ordeal – but she’d won – they’d won together, her and Spike, with the help of their friends and family … just as they always had.
 
“’Cos he let us make our own dinner!” Dani exclaimed excitedly. “And I got to have as many worms as I wanted!”
 
“Worms?!” Buffy exclaimed in shock, her brows furrowed in confusion. Surely Clem had spent enough time with humans, including every Thanksgiving and Christmas at the mansion, to know that kids, human kids, didn’t eat insects or … worms!
 
“Yeah! Worms in Mud! Just like we had at Halloween! It’s yummy!” Dani explained.

 

“Hang on a minute, ok, honey?” Buffy requested as she put her hand over the receiver and asked Spike what the heck Dani was talking about – ‘worms at Halloween’.
 
When Buffy came back on the line she said, “Dani, honey, put Clem on, ok?”
 
“Hi, Buffy!” Clem answered brightly. “Everything ok there?”
 
“Yeah, Clem … it’s fine now. Ummm … you do realize that letting kids choose their own meals is usually not the best idea, right?” Buffy questioned as tactfully as she could.
 
“Oh, sure, Buffy – I know,” Clem agreed. “But I’ve got everything under control. We’re following the food pyramid … protein, vegetables, fruits, and dairy … or sort-of dairy, ‘cos you know, Dani can’t have dairy dairy. I'm doing everything exactly right.”
 
Buffy’s brows rose and she rubbed at her eyes. “Clem, gummy worms with cookies and pudding really isn’t what they had in mind when they made the food pyramid. Just because it has all the colors of actual food … it really isn’t.”
 
“Oh …” Clem mumbled, discouraged. “But I thought since Spike made it before …”
 
Buffy sighed. Clem sounded so disheartened, it made her feel bad. “It’s ok, Clem, but maybe try some of the frozen meals I left there for tomorrow night, ok?”
 
“Frozen meals?” Clem questioned. “I didn’t see any …”
 
“Out in the garage … in the chest freezer, there are all kinds that the kids like – you just pop them in the microwave,” Buffy explained. Spike hated those frozen meals, but Buffy had bought them for Faith to feed the kids, since Faith was an even less talented cook than Buffy was.
 
“Ok, Buffy – don’t worry about anything. I’ve got it all under control. No more gummy worms for dinner from now on!” Clem assured her sincerely, eliciting moans from the kids who were listening attentively.
 
“Thanks, Clem. You’re doing great,” Buffy encouraged him. “Oh, and Clem?”
 
“Yeah?”
 
“I wouldn’t mention what the kids had for dinner to Anya if I were you …” Buffy warned. “She might get upset thinking all that sugar was the reason they can’t get to sleep tonight and why they’re bouncing off the walls like Wham-O Superballs on speed.”
 
“They aren’t bouncing off the walls …” Clem pointed out.
 
“They will be.”

 

 
 **~**

{{Click here to hear "If I Were Brave” by Jana Stanfield on YouTube  }}



What would I do, if I knew that I could not fail?
If I believed, would the wind always fill up my sail?
How far would I go? What could I achieve,
trusting the hero in me?


If I were brave, I’d walk the razor’s edge,
where fools and dreamers dare to tread.
I'd never lose faith, even when losing my way.
What step would I take today, if I were brave?


What would I do today, if I were brave?
What would I do today, if I were brave?

What if we’re all meant to do what we secretly dream?
What would you ask, if you knew you could have anything?
Like the mighty oak sleeps, in the heart of a seed,
are there miracles in you and me?


If I were brave, I’d walk the razor’s edge,
where fools and dreamers dare to tread.
I'd never lose faith, even when losing my way.
What step would I take today, if I were brave?


What would I do today, if I were brave?
What would I do today, if I were brave?


If I refuse to listen to the voice of fear,
would the voice of courage whisper in my ear?
If I were brave, I’d walk the razor’s edge,
where fools and dreamers dare to tread.
I'd never lose faith, even when losing my way.
What step would I take today, if I were brave?


What would I do today, if I were brave?
What would I do today, if I were brave?


End Notes:
TBC ... Ok, all the evil cliff hangers are over for a good while ... no more gore, just some angst and drama, some smut and hopefully some laughs, too. How will Bess fit in with the clan? What's to be done with the Council now that all the senior staff is dead? This story is actually just started folks ...
*** ****
I'd like to take a moment to thank the reader(s) that nominated Unexpected in the most recent SunnyD awards - it really means a LOT to me for you to take the time to do that! The voting hasn't stared yet, so if you have stories you want to nom, I know the authors would appreciate it!

http://sunnydawards.dragonydreams.com/nominees.html

**

I'd also like to just say thanks to everyone who recommends Unexpected in the 'find a fic' forum ... Melly and MB I saw recently - there's no greater compliment than you recommending the story to others. Thanks so much!
Daughters by Passion4Spike
Author's Notes:
Buffy, Spike, Giles, and Bess are free. What will Bess make of her first glimpse of the world outside the dungeon walls?
**
Music Referenced:
Daughters – John Mayer : http://youtu.be/rZLbUIa7exE
 **
ScreenCaps courtesy of ScreenCap Paradise:
http://www.screencap-paradise.com/?cat=3
**
Special thanks to 'epd4' for betaing this chapter!!
(That same night) Wednesday, April 28th, 2010, 2:30am, London:

With the urgency to find where the remaining guards went and the resulting mêlée in the white room, everyone had forgotten about Kralik ... still strapped to the chair in the blue room, cut nearly in half by Weatherby's machete ... everyone except Bess. As the others took the few remaining researchers and guards and Watchers and put them into cells, Bess returned to the blue room on her own. Kralik was still unconscious from the blow that Weatherby had delivered earlier to shut him up. Bess pulled the machete out of his body, tugging on it hard to free it from where it was embedded into the wooden seat of the chair beneath him. Kralik moaned and his head rolled limply back and forth as the pain caused by removing the weapon reached his brain. Bess dropped the machete with a metallic clatter on the stone floor and knelt in front of the disemboweled vampire.

"Hey..." she called, picking his head up so he could see her. "Hey ... remember me?" she asked, trying to get him to focus on her face.

Kralik moaned louder and slowly opened his eyes. His already addled and twisted mind was in a pain-induced haze. He blinked his eyes to try and bring the room into focus, then stared at her blankly for what seemed several minutes before finally nodding slightly.

"You remember? You know me?" she asked again to be sure he was actually answering her question and not off in some la-la land nodding to Leprechauns. "Who am I? Tell me."

"Blondie's ... girlfriend," Kralik replied with labored effort - his dry, raspy voice passing his parched and bloodied lips as a despondent whisper.

Bess smiled slightly and nodded, her eyes narrow with vengeful spite. "Good. I want you to know who dusted you..." she informed him as she thrust her stake into his heart.

Kralik's dazed mind barely reacted, his eyes seemed more confused than frightened for that brief moment between life and death, then he disintegrated into shimmering particles of dust and joined the rest of the debris on the floor of the blue room, joining Weatherby and Travers by becoming nothing more than a painful memory.

**~**

When Bess joined the others upstairs, she watched from a chair in the corner of the conference room as Spike and Buffy sat together on a couch at the back of the room and talked with the kids and Clem back in Sunnydale. She listened as Spike told Billy how proud he was of him and talked about stuff Bess didn’t understand … things about Scoobies and decoder rings … but she understood the main parts, particularly the ‘I love yous’, and more of those feelings that she kept trying to push away and keep hidden tightened her chest and threatened to bring tears to her eyes. Why wouldn’t those feelings just stay away?
 
Bess bit her bottom lip and swallowed back the lump in her throat as she turned her attention away from pair of blondes at the back of the room and scanned the people sitting around the conference table. Slayers and Watchers … more Slayers than Watchers, to be sure; the Slayers talked in small groups, some about the battle, others about the massacre in the white room, still others about what was going to happen now. Bess felt a strange kindredship with these girls, but at the same time felt alienated from them – she wasn’t one of them, and yet she was. Their proximity to her raised the fine hairs on the back of her neck, a warning of danger … just as she knew that her presence tingled the same warning to them.
 
For the first time in over a century, Bess was free … but what she felt most of all was simply lost. In the dungeon, it had all been simple – she knew her place. Like a square peg that had been whittled down to fit into a round hole, she’d learned to fit into the slot that they’d forced her into; she had no idea now to fit in now. Who was she? What was she supposed to do now? How was she supposed to act? Was she a Slayer? Was she a vampire? An evil vampire or a good vampire? Was she a girl? Was she a woman?
 
Bess jumped when Spike touched her shoulder and pulled her from her perplexing thoughts. She looked up into his eyes and Spike dropped down to one knee in front of her, wincing in pain as he did so and still holding his stomach, which had finally stopped bleeding, but was still precariously stitched together at best.
 
“A bit overwhelmin’, yeah?” Spike began, tilting his head towards the throng of Slayers at the conference table.

 

Bess pulled her eyes away from his and scanned the group as she nodded her agreement. “I feel like I should be fleeing … or fighting,” she admitted.
 
“Ya get used to it after a while,” Spike assured her.
 
“I feel…” Bess began and stopped. What did she feel? Alone. Frightened. Unsure. Jealous … Jealous? Jealous of the children that she’d heard receive so much praise and love from this man who claimed to be her father … and that old feeling of being unworthy tightened her chest. Surely she was unworthy of that kind of affection or she wouldn’t have been abandoned by everyone who claimed to have cared for her in the past. If your parents didn't love you enough to stay with you, then who would?
 
“Bess,” Spike began softly. “You did it … you got the message to Junior, you’re brave and strong … the two of you saved us, pet.”
 
Bess shook her head slowly. “Buffy saved you … she got you free, not I,” Bess pointed out.
 
“There’s something you don’t understand yet, Buttercup,” Spike continued. “Your mum, she don’t stand alone against the demons like you had to … she’s got me and her friends and our family … and now you – and you have all of us. You aren’t alone – we help each other, when one falters, another steps up … that’s a team, that’s a family, and you’re part of it now. We all work together – we all do our part and you did a big part … you made sure we didn’t fail.”
 
“I’m not sure I know how to not be alone...” Bess admitted softly, feeling much more like she was fourteen year old girl than a century old vamp.
 
“No one knows how when they first start out, pet. That’s what your mum and me are here for … to show you how – to help you crawl, then stand, then walk, then run like the wind … We love you, Bess, and we’re so proud of you … we know you can do it.”
 
Bess bit her bottom lip and looked up at the ceiling, blinking back the tears she’d been fighting and willing them to not fall. She took a deep breath and looked back into Spike’s eyes and she could see his words reflected in them … pride and love – could that really be for her? “How do you know?” she asked timidly, searching his eyes for the doubt she knew must be there.
 
Spike smiled softly at her. “’Cos you were born that way … you’re made from her,” Spike informed their daughter, tilting his head towards Buffy. “You’re a Summers girl and Summers women are the strongest women I’ve ever had the pleasure of havin’ my ass kicked by.”
 
Bess snorted a soft laugh and shook her head, closing her eyes and leaning her forehead against Spike’s bare shoulder as the tears she’d been battling began to fall. She never saw the doubt she’d been looking for in his eyes … only a confidence that could almost make her believe that she could do this – she could be someone.
 
**~**
 
“Buffy, I suggest we adjourn, all try to get a few hours rest before we endeavor to make any decisions on what to do next,” Giles proposed to her as Spike was talking with Bess.


 
Buffy absently nodded her agreement, her eyes on Bess and Spike. When Bess leaned against him and Spike wrapped an arm over her shoulders, Buffy smiled sadly. This wasn’t going to be easy for any of them, least of all the Slayer-vamp who had lived locked away for so long.
 
Buffy pulled her attention away from them and focused on Giles. “Yeah, that sounds like a plan,” she agreed. “Are there any bureaucrats left standing?”
 
Giles removed his glasses and cleaned them, shaking his head. “I don’t believe so … a couple of ‘Watchers in training’ I believe are all that remains here along with some researchers.”
 
“You’re the senior Watcher …” Buffy pointed out.
 
“Actually, I’m not a Watcher … I quit, if you’ll recall.” Giles pointed out.
 
Buffy rolled her eyes. “Giles, being a Watcher isn’t something you quit, just like being a Slayer isn’t something I could quit; it’s not about who’s signing your paycheck. It’s in your blood, it’s part of you. You’re the head man now.”
 
Giles took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Buffy, of course, was right, although Wes may disagree. “Indeed, I suppose that’s true,” Giles agreed with a sigh.

 

“Which fills you with much joy and elation …” Buffy teased, seeing the look of consternation on his face.
 
“Huh? Oh yes, sarcasm … very good,” Giles stammered, his mind on a thousand other things … not the least of which was Edmond. How could he stay here and run the Council and still have any chance of watching his son grow … of spoiling him rotten and teaching him things only a father can teach? How could he choose between what had been his own calling, his life’s work, and his child? Could he turn his back on his chance to make things at the Council ‘right’ … turn his back and walk away from the Slayers and Watchers in the field that would benefit from his experience and leadership? If he did, would that put the world at risk? His son wouldn’t have much of a future if the whole world collapsed into the Hellmouth or was sucked into a hell dimension or overrun by any multitude of demons.
 
“We’ll work it out, Giles,” Buffy assured him. “Tomorrow.”
 
“Indeed … I’m certain you’re correct … tomorrow,” Giles repeated tiredly.
 
“So, what’s the plan, B?” Faith asked as she and Wes joined Buffy and Giles.
 
“The plan is to sleep now and plan tomorrow …” Buffy answered, standing up from her place on the couch.
 
“Do you think any of those doctors and trainees we locked up are any threat to us now?” Buffy questioned the small Sunnydale group.
 
Faith shrugged but Giles and Wes both shook their heads negatively. “I doubt it, Buffy,” Wes started. “We've cut the head off the dragon ... without a leader … they really have no reason to fight any longer. They’re quite aware that they’ve been defeated.”
 
“We should just let them go, then,” Buffy suggested. “Take their weapons and keys – change the locks or the alarm code or whatever and let them go home to their families.” Perhaps it was the utter relief and joy of talking with her own children after the nightmare of the dungeon, but Buffy was loathe to keep humans that weren't a threat to them prisoner. Doing so may not have made her as bad as Travers, but it felt ... wrong. It made her feel dirty to think that a child would be going to bed tonight wondering where their mother or father was; there had been enough of that going around, it needed to end somewhere.
 
“I’m not certain we know how to change the alarm code…” Giles pointed out.
 
“I think I have someone who can help with that,” Faith interjected. “Our buddy Jim, the night watchman …”
 
“You made friends with one of the guards?” Buffy questioned.

 

Faith shrugged. “Sort of … you know, in a very violent, abusive, and bondage kinda way,” Faith elucidated with a sarcastic smile. “OH! Which reminds me … your phone,” she exclaimed looking at Giles and reaching into her back pocket for the smart phone that she had retrieved from Travers’ office earlier.
 
“Oh … sorry …” Faith apologized as she handed the broken and battered phone to Giles. “I guess it’s not really a good phone for a Slayer.”
 
Giles took the phone and looked at it with disgust … the face was cracked into a hundred pieces, at least – it looked like it had been through a war. “Indeed,” he agreed with her assessment.
 
“Maybe Will insured it,” Faith suggested.
 
“We can bloody well hope,” Giles droned as he dropped the demolished phone into his pocket. With Olivia’s help, he had just gotten it set up to his liking. Giles sighed and a small smile played on his lips … on the bright side, getting a new phone would be an excellent excuse to spend all day and night with Olivia again … setting the phone up, of course.
 
**~**
 
Back at their hotel, Giles helped Spike up to their room as Buffy paid for an additional room for Bess. Bess stuck close to Buffy on the trip back from the Council headquarters … trying not to ask too many questions or be frightened of all the strange sights and sounds that surrounded them. She had never actually seen automobiles before or trucks or motorbikes … she’d heard tell of them when they brought in new vamps, but to actually see them was rather overwhelming. Even though it was a short walk back to the hotel, Giles had called a cab since Spike was in no condition to walk … and on her first night outside the dungeon walls, Bess got to ride in one of the wondrous marvels of technology – a London black cab.


 
Spike watched their daughter’s face as the taxi began to move slowly through the nearly deserted, pre-dawn streets of London. Bess’ eyes were wide with wonder as she watched the world move by … it was as if she’d stepped into a time machine and darted ahead over a hundred years. Spike had lived through all the changes of the last century … had been able to see the strides of the industrial age and the computer age first hand and adapt to them little by little. Bess, on the other hand, was being dropped from one time into another in the blink of an eye … but Spike was proud of how she was handling it. She seemed to be like a sponge, just absorbing everything she saw and heard and felt, or perhaps like a child, like the child she had been before – curious about the world, a tom-boy, unafraid of new adventures and ready to explore the unknown.
 
Buffy was able to get a room right across the hall from theirs and next door to Giles’ for Bess. The blondes walked up the single flight of stairs to the second floor and Buffy showed the girl how the key worked … quite thankful that it was an actual key, not a key-card set up, in the hotel. In the room, Buffy showed her how the light switches worked, then the toilet, sink, and shower and how the water worked and tried desperately to think what else she needed to show her.
 
“I’ll get you something clean to sleep in and some clothes for tomorrow,” Buffy offered when the short tour of the room was done. “We’re right across the hall … if you need anything, just knock on our door, ok?”
 
Bess nodded, looking out the door and at the door across the hall.
 
“Ok … why don’t you get started on a shower and I’ll find you some clean clothes?” Buffy suggested as she headed towards the door.
 
Bess nodded again, looking at the bathroom door and hoping she could remember how the water worked. “Thank you,” she offered, genuinely grateful for Buffy’s help and patience.

 

Buffy smiled at her. “That’s what moms are for,” Buffy assured her as she headed across the hallway to her room to see if she could find something that would fit the thin girl.
 
When Buffy came back into Bess’ room, she laid the clothes on the dresser and sat down to wait for their daughter to finish in the shower. Buffy closed her tired eyes and leaned her head back against the chair, and fell asleep almost immediately. Buffy wasn’t sure how long she’d been asleep, waiting for Bess to finish, but when she awoke with a kink in her neck, the shower was still running. Steam poured out of the small bathroom and filled the whole room with a cloud of damp, warm mist – then Buffy heard what sounded like splashing and when she stood up she could see water running out of the bathroom door and saturating the carpet in the bedroom.
 
“Bess!” she exclaimed as she ran to the open bathroom door to see what was going on.
 
“Buffy!” Bess giggled as she sat up, bringing her head up from under the water that filled the overflowing tub as more hot water poured down like rain from the showerhead. “This is the most fantastic invention ever!” she declared, splashing in the tub like it was a swimming pool and sending another wave of water over the edge and across the bathroom floor towards the carpet.
 
“Bess! You can’t do that!” Buffy admonished her as she hurried in, turned the water off, and unplugged the stopper in the tub. “You can’t splash water everywhere!”
 
Bess’ giddy expression folded in on itself and turned into a pout that only reaffirmed the Summers blood in her veins. “I’m sorry … I didn’t mean to,” she apologized meekly as Buffy tried to mop up the water from the floor with the towels.
 
“That’s not a swimming pool!” Buffy continued to rant. “God, I hope we don’t have to pay for the damage to that carpet … Oh, I hope water didn’t run downstairs! What in the world were you thinking?”
 
Bess bit her bottom lip and looked down at the rapidly lowering water in the tub. “Sorry …”
 
Buffy sighed and rolled her eyes as she dropped the soaked towels in the sink. God, I sound just like Mom! Buffy thought as she took a deep breath to calm down. How many times had her mother asked her ‘what were you thinking?’ … too many to count.
 
“It’s ok … I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have yelled – you didn’t know,” Buffy apologized. Buffy dropped down onto her knees to be eye level with the girl who was still sitting in the empty tub. “Bess – I’m sorry,” Buffy began again, putting a finger under the girl’s chin and lifting her face up so she was looking at her. “I shouldn’t have lost my temper … I’m just really tired and … I forgot for a minute that you didn’t know. Bess, I need you to be patient with me, ok? I make mistakes … I don’t mean to, but I do, but it doesn’t mean I don’t love you.”
 
“Why?” Bess whispered, lowering her eyes and looking back down.
 
“Why … do I love you?” Buffy questioned, trying to follow what Bess was asking. “I love you because you’re you – it’s unconditional; you’re our daughter and that’s the only reason we need.”


 
“Then why did you leave?” Bess wondered, her voice barely audible.
 
“Awww, baby,” Buffy sighed, sitting back on her heals on the wet floor. “I didn’t have a choice … neither did your father. He thought he’d left you somewhere safe, with the Weatherfords; he didn’t know you were a Slayer … we didn’t know you were still … alive.”
 
Bess nodded, but still didn’t really understand. Buffy had been there that day … that same day her father had disappeared. If they loved her so much, why did they run off? Why did they abandon their family? Why didn’t they take her and Anne with them?
 
“C’mon, let’s get you dried off and get some sleep … things will be better tomorrow,” Buffy assured her as she stood up then went out to the bedroom area and grabbed a blanket off the bed for Bess to dry off with.
 
When Bess was dressed in a t-shirt and shorts, Buffy turned the bed down for her. “Do you need anything else? Have you eaten anything? Are you hungry?”
 
“I’m ok …” Bess told her as she sat down on the bed, bouncing lightly on the edge.
 
“Ok, we’ll get some blood tomorrow and go shopping – get you some clothes and shoes and fix your hair … it’ll be fun – you’ll see. I’m really not always this cranky. If you need anything, you know where we are – just knock,” Buffy assured her with a smile.
 
“Ok,” Bess agreed absentmindedly, still bouncing lightly on the springy mattress.
 
“Ok, good night, then,” Buffy called over her shoulder as she headed for the door.
 
“Good night,” Bess replied.
 
“Bess?”
 
“Yeah?”
 
“Bouncing on the bed like it’s a trampoline is kinda like running water all over the floor …” Buffy warned her before closing the door.
 
Buffy leaned back against the door heavily and rubbed at her eyes. She was exhausted and just beginning to realize how many things Bess didn’t know. “Wanda … please help me, please give me strength, give me patience … give me another one of those chocolate bars,” Buffy prayed aloud.
 
“Well, I don’t have any strength or patience to spare,” Giles began as he came out of Buffy and Spike’s room, hearing the last of her prayer. “But I do have this,” he offered, pulling a Wispa bar out of his pocket.

 

Buffy smiled and took the candy from his hand. “I think you just saved my life…”
 
Giles snorted a laugh and headed to his room across the hall and down one door from Bess’. “I expect that makes the score: Slayer, five-hundred and twenty seven; Watcher, two.”
 
**~**
 
Buffy popped the last bite of chocolate into her mouth as she entered their room … she moaned in pleasure, that tasted about as good as anything she’d ever had. The fact that she was starving and utterly exhausted might’ve had something to do with that.
 
Spike had just dropped his jeans and was just sitting down on the bed when she closed and locked the door behind her. Giles had checked his wound, helped him clean his upper torso, and tore a clean sheet into strips to re-wrap his midsection. Spike had ripped a couple of the stitches loose, but it was still holding well enough that his own healing powers should be able to mend the gaping wound in his stomach within a few days. Giles had also straightened Spike’s broken nose and taped it in place so it wouldn’t heal crooked – which had been more important to Spike than his ravaged stomach; he didn’t want to end up looking like Rocky Balboa after going ten rounds against Apollo Creed for the rest of his life.
 
“How is it?” Buffy asked as she walked over to him then helped him pull his jeans the rest of the way off and swing his legs gently up onto the bed.
 
“Tickles a bit…” Spike replied with a grimace, as he tried to breathe through the pain and will his body to relax.
 
Buffy went to the bathroom and got a couple of washcloths and filled the empty ice bucket up with warm water. She sat down heavily on the edge of the bed next to him and started cleaning the blood and grime off the lower half of his body. “I’m so sorry, Spike,” she began, trying not to hurt him – his whole body was still covered in cuts, burns, and bruises.
 
Spike grabbed her hand, pulled it to his lips and dropped a soft kiss on her palm. “Not your fault,” he assured her. “How’s our girl?”
 
Buffy smiled and shook her head. “She’s like a kid in a candy shop … turned the bath tub into a swimming pool and is this very moment probably jumping on the bed like a trampoline.”
 
Spike snorted a soft laugh and closed his eyes as Buffy laid her hand softly on his cheek. “She doesn’t understand why we left her way back then. I tried to explain that we didn’t have a choice, that you thought she’d be safe with the Weatherfords, that we didn’t know about any of this … but I’m not sure she really understands.”
 
“I’ll have a talk with her tomorrow, yeah? She’s been through a lot, I don’t know if she’ll ever trust anyone again, even us,” Spike admitted.
 
“Spike … I think,” Buffy took a deep breath. “I think she might have some of her soul,” she blurted out quickly, not sure how Spike would take that news, but not knowing any other way to tell him.
 
Spike pursed his lips together, closed his eyes and nodded. “Yeah,” he agreed. “She cares too much ‘bout ... us – what we think, what we feel.”
 
Buffy let out the breath she’d been holding, thankful that this wasn’t news to him.

“She’s good at acting like it ain’t there … but it shows. I reckon tomorrow we need to have Red give it all back to ‘er and hope she don’t turn into a moody, violent, reticent teenager who’s stronger than her bloody parents.”

 

“Oh, so you think she’ll turn into me,” Buffy kidded, rolling her eyes but not laughing as she went back to cleaning his legs with the damp cloths. Unfortunately, Spike’s worries were also hers and hit a little too close to home.
 
“Whatever happens, we’ll work it out, together, yeah? She’s a good girl … she’s just had a bad time of it,” Spike pointed out. “I think she really just wants one thing, the same thing we all want … to be loved.”
 
Buffy nodded and sighed, hoping he was right, hoping their love would be enough to pull Bess through what was certain to be another difficult time for her.
 
“How did you pass the Gem to her without her knowing?” Buffy wondered, changing the subject slightly as she moved to his other leg and tried to get the dried blood and dirt off without reopening his wounds.
 
Spike thought back to the struggle for the Gem in the white room and replayed the scene for Buffy …
 
Kralik and Spike both raced on hands and knees across the floor of the room towards the jumble of over turned tables in the center, following the blood trail the Gem had left on the sterile floor. Spike got to the maze of tables first and began searching for it frantically, pushing the overturned tables out of the way, flipping them and sliding them until he caught a glimpse of the small, green bauble. Spike reached for it, just barely grabbing it between his outstretched fingertips just as Kralik caught him and hurtled the smaller vamp away, sending Spike sliding across the floor towards Bess, who was unconscious - tranquilized.
 
Spike hit Bess with enough force to send them both crashing against the cabinets a few feet away. The surgical instruments that had been dropped on the floor earlier scattered; flashes of light bounced off the sharp, shiny blades as the two blondes slid through the middle of the pile. Spike was still bleeding from the gaping wound in his chest that Kralik had made getting the Gem out and excruciating pain radiated out to all parts of his body from his broken ribs; he tried to breathe through the pain, but breathing just made it hurt worse, so he stopped and concentrated on forcing his mind to stay conscious and focused.
 
Spike could hear Kralik growling and overturning the tables, still looking for the Gem in the center of the room. Spike grabbed one of the scalpels from the floor and struggled to cover and protect his still unconscious daughter’s prone body with his own. Shielding his actions from the prying eyes of the onlookers overhead with his body, Spike stabbed the scalpel deep into Bess’ upper thigh and slid the Gem of Amarra into the deep wound, pressing it nearly to the bone with his index finger. Spike then began pulling the tranq darts out of his daughter’s flesh, hoping that she could wake up … hoping that she could defend herself, because he wasn’t sure how long he’d last now. Before Spike could get all the darts out, he was jerked up by the scruff of his neck by Kralik and tossed on the floor a few feet away from her.
 

“I knew if I put it back into myself and my wounds healed up, Travers would know …” Spike explained. “Buttercup didn’t have any wounds to speak of … other than the tranq darts. Wankers never even thought to check her,” Spike observed with a touch of pride that one of his plans had actually worked for a change.
 
Buffy nodded slowly, blinking back tears, as she stopped her ministrations and looked up at him. “But you could’ve dusted… I could’ve lost you,” she whispered, her voice cracking with emotion as she met his eyes with hers.
 
“If ‘ifs’ and ‘ands’ were pots and pans…” Spike began the old rhyme as he took her hand back in his and pulled it to his lips.
 
Buffy rolled her eyes. “All the tinkers would be in the unemployment line…” she finished with a sigh.
 
“Buffy, if he’d of gotten hold a’ that Gem …” Spike started.

 

“I know … all our friends would’ve thought we were dead and might not have looked for us,” Buffy groaned. “That doesn’t make me like the fact that you don’t have it anymore. We need to put it back…”
 
“Yeah,” Spike agreed half-heartedly.
 
“Spiiike …”
 
“Buffy, let the girl have it for a bit, yeah? Take her to a bloody swimmin’ pool, let ‘er jump off the high dive … let her swim in the ocean and bounce on a real trampoline … let her feel the sun on her skin – let her be a real girl. Buffy, please, pet – I owe her that much,” Spike pleaded with his wife.
 
Buffy’s chin quivered as tears rolled down her cheeks. She wanted Spike’s wounds to heal, she wanted him out of pain, she wanted him to be able to walk in the sun and be a ‘real boy’ and she wanted to not worry about some person or demon getting lucky and dusting him – but at the same time she understood his guilt, because she felt it too. Bess had been cheated out of so much of her childhood … she’d been used and abused and treated like a piece of meat with no value of her own for so long, maybe it was time someone did something for her without asking for anything in return. Maybe they could show her how much they loved her … maybe they could show her that not everyone in the world was a monster and that people could be good, people could be trusted – maybe she could learn to live, even trust and love, again.
 
Buffy finally nodded, patting a hand down on Spike’s shoulder. “You’re a good father, Spike … the best any child could hope for. I’m so lucky to have you next to me, I love you so much,” Buffy offered sincerely, leaning down and dropping a soft kiss on his lips.
 
“I love you too, Buffy,” Spike murmured against her lips. “You’re a good mum, ya know that, yeah?”
 
Buffy rested her forehead against his and sighed as Spike rubbed his hands lightly up and down her arms. “I yelled at Bess for splashing water all over the floor,” Buffy admitted. “I sounded just like my mom,” she groaned, rolling her eyes.
 
Spike chuckled softly, still running his hands up and down her bare arms. “See, that just proves it. Joyce was a good lady … a good mum – and so are you … even if you don’t share your bloody chocolate with me.”
 
Buffy sat back and smiled guiltily. “You and your vampire smelling,” she teased.
 
“Didn’t need t’ smell it … I tasted it … you taste like heaven with chocolate on top,” Spike informed her with a smirk.
 
Buffy laughed lightly and shook her head. “Well, smarty pants, for your information, I do have some chocolate to share with you. It’s right here,” Buffy informed him, tilting her head to the side and rubbing a finger up and down her bare neck.

 

Spike’s face turned serious and he shook his head. “No ...”
 
“Yes,” Buffy argued. “You don’t have the Gem – we have to do this the old-fashioned way.”
 
“The bit…” Spike began to argue.
 
“Is fine. I’m fine – I’m all healed, you’re not. I can spare a pint of blood. I didn’t argue with you about the Gem, did I? You don’t argue with me about this,” Buffy insisted.
 
Spike frowned and shook his head, but Buffy stopped him from arguing further by laying a finger on his lips. “Show me the demon,” Buffy demanded, but Spike just shook his head adamantly.
 
“We can do this the easy way or the hard way,” Buffy warned. “But either way, you’re gonna drink.”
 
“You can’t force…” Spike started, talking past her finger on his lips when Buffy pressed down on his abdomen lightly with her other hand. “Bloody hell!” Spike screamed in pain, gold flashing momentarily in his eyes.
 
“Easy way or hard way,” Buffy repeated.
 
“You’re the most stubborn, obstinate, insufferable woman I’ve ever bloody known,” Spike grumbled, as he allowed the demon surface.
 
“I love you too, honey,” Buffy replied as she leaned down so her jugular was next to his fangs. “Now, bite me.”
 
Spike could hear and smell her blood pumping in her artery and the demon wrested control from the man, sliding his fangs into her hungrily. Spike felt that euphoric feeling wash over him as her sweet, chocolaty Slayer blood covered his tongue and ran down his throat. At the first drop of crimson, the demon sucked even harder against her neck as he wrapped one arm around her shoulders and pulled her body down against his ravaged chest – all pain completely forgotten.
 
Buffy gasped and then moaned as Spike’s fangs sank into her neck and her skin began to tingle as chill-bumps chased up and down her body. His cool lips against her hot flesh just intensified the feeling she had of being a burning glacier … hot and cold at the same time. It didn’t happen often, but there were times when Buffy wished his bite didn’t send her libido spiraling out of control … and this was one of them. She was too exhausted and he was too weak, his injury too severe, to do anything but leave them both wanting more.  

 

Buffy could feel him open the bond between them and she did the same and suddenly they were on the peak of a snow covered mountain surrounded by icy-hot flames that licked hungrily at their bare skin. Spike lifted her up and Buffy wrapped around him with arms and legs as Spike’s lips found hers. Buffy’s head spun when she felt Spike’s demon press his hardness into her wet heat as she wrapped around him and silently begged for more. As the flames danced around them, melting the snow with their golden blaze, the warriors let their inner demons dance a deadly, graceful ballet of blood lust. The demon roared against her skin as he pounded his hard weapon up into her burning sheath with unbridled passion, and Buffy took all he had to give. Unencumbered by their humanity, or their bodies, or even gravity … ruled only by their spirits and desires, the pair rose up from the mountaintop into the atmosphere, spinning and spiraling together towards nirvana.
 
As they climbed higher and higher, so did the flames, which continued to burn them with ecstasy while they danced among the stars. Buffy felt like she was melting ... melting into Spike, just as her blood flowed into him, she felt her whole being begin to surge into him and it was the most amazing thing she’d ever felt – as if she was being poured into a mold that was made for only her and fit her perfectly. She could feel her own dark, inner demon surface and reach out for his, and when they touched, the flames surrounding them exploded in fiery bliss, sending them hurtling as one towards heaven.

 

The pair soared and whirled, dancing as one being. Like an ice skater, they spun together in a tight spiral, going faster and faster until they were nothing but a blur to the heavens and the heavens were nothing but a blur to them. Buffy screamed out when her orgasm overtook her physical body as Spike continued to suck and lick at her neck and drink her hormone-charged, life-giving blood. Buffy clung to him in the heavens as they spun faster and faster and faster still – unable and unwilling to control the velocity or the intensity of their dance.
 
Her body tensed and trembled against his until she could no longer breathe, no longer scream, no longer do anything but feel the power of her own dark demon as it carried her away on waves of bliss. Spike pulled back, forcing his demon back into hiding and began softly licking and kissing her neck, sealing the wound with his saliva and slowing their spin in the heavens.

Buffy felt air return to her lungs as she gasped for breath … but their demon spirits still danced among the stars, slowly shifting from the dizzying and frantic spin to a slow, sensuous death spiral, not wanting to leave the bliss behind. Finally, their demons pulled apart as the twirling slowed further and further until they finally stopped … in fact, the whole world seemed to stop in that moment. The flames were nothing but smoldering embers as they stood atop the snowcapped mountaintop, Buffy wrapped around him, held tight in Spike’s arms, Spike’s cock still sheathed in her heat.


 
Spike leaned in and kissed her lips softly, then trailed his tongue down to her neck and nuzzled against her, licking and kissing her neck and slowly they came back to themselves and were back in the hotel, back in their bodies, back in the world. Buffy’s chest heaved with exertion as her heart raced in her chest and the tingling in her body slowly dissipated. Buffy sat back, checking her neck for blood with one hand … there was none, the wounds were closed.
 
“God, Spike … did you … did you see that – feel that?” she asked between gasps of air.

 

Spike smiled and lifted a hand to her face, drawing one finger lightly down from her temple, along her jaw to her chin. “Your demon’s as beautiful as you are … dark, feral, raw … primal,” he affirmed. “Bloody amazin’, you are, pet.”
 
“I’ve never … not since the Shadowmen … it’s never taken over like that before,” Buffy stammered slightly, trying to figure out if that meant something or not.
 
“No worries, luv,” Spike assured her. “You’re bloody exhausted … and with my demon so close, it found a crack – an opening and took it. It’s not any stronger than it’s ever been, you’re just completely knackered.”
 
Buffy let out a long breath and nodded. There was no doubt about that. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d slept and even one of Travers’ bland, lukewarm meals would be welcome just about now. Buffy trailed her hand lightly down from Spike’s shoulder across his bandaged abdomen to his hard cock … he hadn’t cum like she had in the … what was that? A wet dream? A wet day-dream?
 
Buffy leaned down and touched the tip of her tongue to the swollen head of his cock, licking the droplets of pre-cum from his cumslit and Spike closed his eyes as he moaned in pleasure, which encouraged Buffy to continue. She wasn’t sure if he would be too tired or too beat up to want it … but apparently not. Buffy slid her lips down his shaft, licking small circles with the tip of her tongue all down his length.
 
“God, Buffy … feels so bloody good,” Spike moaned, laying a hand on the back of her neck and tangling his fingers in her golden tresses.
 
Buffy winced slightly when he did that, not from pain but from the gross-factor that was her hair. She’d taken a ‘whore’s bath’ earlier when she’d come in to get clothes for Bess – washing up quickly with a washcloth, but her hair hadn’t been washed in days…it felt gross to her, matted and oily, and she was sure there had to be blood and dirt and who knew what else in there too, but Spike didn’t seem to notice or mind.
 
Buffy put the thought of her gross hair out of her mind and concentrated on Spike … at least she could make him feel better for a few minutes, just as he’d done for her in their shared day dream. Buffy stroked his balls lightly with her fingertips as she alternated between fast, short strokes and hard, long ones on his throbbing cock, making Spike squirm slightly. He really wanted to jerk his hips up against her, but his ravaged abdomen wouldn’t allow it – he had to let her do all the work.
 
“Cum for me, baby,” Buffy murmured against the sensitive skin of his rod before dropping her heavenly mouth down hard and deep, swallowing and taking all of his desire into her.
 
“Ahhh … bloody hell!” Spike exclaimed when the head of his cock hit the back of her throat.
 
Buffy sucked down on him harder and Spike’s hips jerked up involuntarily, sending pain shooting out from his abdomen in all directions. Spike gasped, but pushed the pain aside, focusing his mind on his wild angel who was taking him to heaven. Spike opened his eyes and watched her, her beautiful lips engulfing him, her cheeks hollow with the force of her mission, her face flushed with the passion she was pouring over him and her beautiful, golden halo flowing freely around her angelic face. Spike let the vision and the feeling of her mouth and hands on him mingle with the aroma of her own cum and it sent him soaring.
 
“God, Buffy … gonna cum, pet,” Spike announced, his voice deep and rumbly as he felt his cum shoot up from where she was fondling his scrotum and swell his cock with waves of bliss. For a moment, Spike caught another glimpse of Buffy’s inner demon – dark and feral, as his cum shot into her soft, warm mouth and they both moaned in ecstasy as she continued licking and sucking while she swallowed his nectar passionately.
 
Buffy licked every last drop from Spike’s cock, making Spike moan in pleasure with each circle of her tongue around his softening rod.
 
“So bloody good, pet,” Spike moaned when she finally released him. He pulled her up his body and Buffy dropped a kiss on his lips.

“I love you so much,” she whispered to him.
 
“Love you more, my raven goddess,” Spike contended with a satisfied smile, his arms wrapped around her.

 

Buffy smiled back at him. “I didn’t think you liked the ‘Elvira’ look on me…” she pointed out, recalling how upset he was when she came back from her visit with the Shadowmen with more demon mojo and long, jet black hair to go with along it; knowing that was what Spike saw when he saw her inner demon emerge to dance with his.
 
“It suits her … you’re the light … she’s the dark,” Spike explained. "Two sides to the same amazin' woman."
 
Buffy nodded, thinking that was most likely quite true. “Well, we two yin and yang girls need a shower in the worst way,” she informed him, and Spike released her as she stood up and started for the bathroom.
 
As he watched her walk away, he couldn’t help but feel like the luckiest man in the world … he wanted to pluck the stars from the sky and lay them at her feet like diamonds. She’d helped him keep his promise to Bess; she was a fighter, a scrapper, a bloody lioness. Buffy was the most giving woman that he’d ever known and certainly, as he told Bess, the strongest woman he’d ever had the pleasure of having his ass kicked by. Spike drifted off to sleep as he heard the shower start in the other room … dreams of Buffy dancing in a graceful ballet across the stars as they lay on the ground at her feet filling his exhausted mind and body with a peaceful joy.
 
**~**
 
Buffy sank slowly down in the tub until only her nose was above the water as the shower rained more hot water down on her tired and aching body. She closed her eyes and listened from under the water as the shower splashed around her, splattering what little of her face that was above the water with warm droplets of delight. She held her breath and went under the surface completely … she could feel her hair fan out in the warm water and it tickled her shoulders and back. Then she opened her eyes and looked up … she could see the ripples on the surface of the water where the shower was still pounding down, filling the tub higher and higher.
 
Buffy smiled as an old memory popped into her mind … she couldn’t have been more than five or six. She’d been playing ‘frogman’ in the tub – splashing recklessly as she turned one way then the other in the clear water. “Buffy! That’s not a swimming pool!” her mother had exclaimed when she walked in to find the bathroom floor covered with an inch of water. “What were you thinking!?”
 
Buffy began to laugh and she sat up quickly, sending a wave of water over the edge of the tub and onto the floor, which just made her laugh harder and splash another gallon or two of water onto the floor. She sat back against the cool tiles and her laughter suddenly morphed into deep, sobbing tears. Buffy sat forward and covered her face with her hands as her emotions, which she’d worked so hard to keep bottled up when she was in the dungeon, poured out. Behind her closed lids, Buffy could see what her mom saw that day … a happy, carefree child, unencumbered by all the ‘shoulds’ and ‘should nots’ of adulthood; she could see herself  in her children, and her children in herself. Suddenly she was laughing and crying at the same time as she realized that she need look no further than her own heart for the strength and patience that she’d asked their Guardian Angel for; it had been within her the whole time, she’d just forgotten.
 
“Thanks…” Buffy murmured aloud as leaned back against the cool tiles and let out a deep, shuddering breath, finally allowing herself to truly relax for the first time in many days.

 

 **~**
 
{{Click here to hear "Daughters” by John Mayer on YouTube  }}

I know a girl,
She puts the color inside of my world
But she's just like a maze
Where all of the walls all continually change

And I've done all I can
To stand on her steps with my heart in my hands
Now I'm starting to see
Maybe it's got nothing to do with me

Fathers, be good to your daughters
Daughters will love like you do
Girls become lovers who turn into mothers
So mothers, be good to your daughters too

Oh, you see that skin?
It's the same she's been standing in
Since the day she saw him walking away
Now she's left, cleaning up the mess he made

Fathers, be good to your daughters
Daughters will love like you do
Girls become lovers who turn into mothers
So mothers, be good to your daughters too

Boys, you can break
You'll find out how much they can take
Boys will be strong and boys soldier on
But boys would be gone without warmth from
A woman's good, good heart

On behalf of every man
Looking out for every girl
You are the god and the weight of her world


Fathers, be good to your daughters
Daughters will love like you do
Girls become lovers who turn into mothers
So mothers, be good to your daughters too
So mothers, be good to your daughters too
So mothers, be good to your daughters too
End Notes:
TBC ... quite a lot more to come as Spike and Buffy try to help Bess fit into the world and they try to figure out what to do with the Council.
Isn't She Lovely by Passion4Spike
Author's Notes:
Spike and Buffy spend some time with Bess and try to help her start to fit into the modern world.
**
Music Referenced:
Isn’t She Lovely, Stevie Wonder: http://youtu.be/IVvkjuEAwgU
 **
ScreenCaps courtesy of ScreenCap Paradise:
http://www.screencap-paradise.com/?cat=3
**
Special thanks to 'epd4' for betaing this chapter!!
Wednesday, April 28th, 2010, 12:30pm, London:
 
Buffy dreamt that she was walking in a forest of ‘breakfast’ … there were trees made from bacon with dozens of white eggs hanging from them like apples, at her feet were hash browns, fried crispy, and they crunched as she walked, and off to the side was a river of foamy, mocha coffee. She peeled some bacon-bark off one of the trees and nibbled on it as she walked through the forest and wondered where the ketchup was for the hash browns…
 
“Buffy…” she heard Spike’s voice calling her and she turned around to find him standing in the doorway of a house that was made out of thick Belgian waffles, with golden syrup running down from the peaked roof and dripping slowly from the eaves.
 
“Spike … do you know where the ketchup is?” she asked him, scooping up a handful of hash browns and heading towards him.
 
“I got you ketchup, pet … c’mon then, time to eat,” he replied, heading back inside the waffle house.
 
“Thank goodness. I’m starving,” Buffy replied, breaking off more bacon from the trunks of the trees and picking some eggs to add to the hash browns she’d scooped up.
 
“Buffy … pet, ya gotta wake up to eat,” Spike informed her, shaking her shoulder lightly.
 
“Huh?” Buffy questioned as she dropped all the food to the ground, breaking the eggs.
 
“Slayer … wake up,” Spike repeated, waving a strip of bacon under her nose like smelling salts.
 
Buffy shook her head and opened her eyes. “Where are we?” she questioned groggily, still half asleep.
 
“At the hotel in London, pet,” Spike reminded her. “Watcher got us some food. C’mon, then – up and at ‘em.”
 
“What time is it?” Buffy pondered as she rubbed her tired eyes.
 
“Time to wake up,” Spike retorted, moving away from the bed with the bacon to lure her up.
 
“Don’t be a wise guy … I can still kick your ass, even half asleep,” Buffy grumbled as she sat up and dropped her head into her hands tiredly.
 
“You could try,” Spike dared her with a smirk. “But you’d have to get out of the bloody bed first,” he pointed out. “It’s half past twelve … that’s in the afternoon. C’mon – he even got you ketchup and two double chocolate Frappuccinos with whipped cream…

 

Buffy swung her legs out of the bed and pulled on a t-shirt and shorts. Spike was already dressed and he was standing at the table in the room, which was filled to overflowing with food, nibbling on strips of bacon.
 
“You look better,” Buffy observed as she made her way to the bathroom.
 
“Thanks to the stubborn bint I’m married to,” Spike agreed. He had to admit that the blood she’d given him had made a world of difference. Most of his small wounds were nothing more than red blotches on his skin now, his stomach still hurt, but he could feel the muscles beginning to mend and he could actually stand up straight now. His eyes were still blackened, but just slightly swollen and, although he left the tape on his nose, it felt like it was healing alright, too.
 
Buffy came out of the bathroom, walked up to him and put her arms around his neck. “You should just learn that you can’t argue with me … I don’t know why you even try, because you know I’m right and you’re wrong – always.”
 
Spike dropped a kiss on her lips and pulled back to look into her eyes. “I’m just a slow learner, I reckon,” he teased as he held up a strip of bacon for her and she bit down on it ferociously.
 
“Oi! Watch the digits!” Spike objected with wide eyes, jerking his hand away from the hungry lioness in his arms. Buffy laughed as she released him, still chewing on the strip of bacon, and sat down at the table to dig into the meal Giles had gotten for them.
 
Spike laughed as Buffy began tucking into the food like a three hundred pound truck driver and moaning in pleasure. He was glad to see that she was alright and found one other bright spot from the time she’d spent alone in the ‘Wish World’ – the extra healing magic that had been left in the scythe. It wasn’t as good as having something that would work like the Gem of Amarra for her, but it was a close second.
 
“Gonna go check on our girl … see if she fancies a nosh up,” Spike told her as he turned and started towards the door.
 
“Did Giles get any blood?” Buffy questioned, talking with her mouth half full of food.
 
“Yeah – he got that and he got that bloody phone replaced. Red’s emailed him new photos of the little Munster, though – they couldn’t retrieve the old ones, so be ready,” Spike warned her.
 
Buffy furrowed her brows, then rolled her eyes and shook her head. “Eddie Munster … I get it,” she moaned before taking a big bite of the Belgian waffles that were smothered in the same thick, golden syrup that had been in her dream.

 

**~**
 
Bess came back with Spike, barefoot and dressed in the shorts and shirt Buffy had given her to sleep in. Spike waved a hand at the empty chair next to Buffy and Bess sat down and looked at all the food on the table.
 
“How did you sleep?” Buffy asked between bites.
 
“Well,” Bess replied as she watched Buffy gobble up another bite of waffles.
 
“Here,” Buffy offered, pushing the platter of waffles towards her. “Don’t be shy … help yourself.”

 

Bess furrowed her brows and looked at the platter of food, then over at Spike, who was warming a mug of blood for her in the small microwave in the room. “But … I don’t eat …” Bess stammered, not wanting to be rude. “I’m a vampire,” she reminded Buffy.
 
“So?” Buffy argued. “Doesn’t mean you can’t eat food … it tastes good – here, try this,” Buffy offered Bess the other Frappuccino that she hadn’t dug into yet. “I bet you’ll like it.”
 
Bess took the drink from Buffy’s hand just as Spike showed up with a mug of blood for her. “I … I don’t want to be a bother …”
 
“It’s no bother. Slayer’s right – it tastes bloody brilliant. Listen to your mum, Buttercup, try it,” Spike assured her as he sat the mug of blood down on the table next to the Frappuccino.
 
Bess looked from one to the other of the blondes and shrugged before taking a sip of the chocolaty drink Buffy had given her. Bess’ eyes went wide when the sweet, cold liquid hit her tongue and she savored the flavor in her mouth for several moments before swallowing it and taking another deep drink. Bess closed her eyes as the chocolaty sweetness covered her taste-buds and sent her mind spiraling back in time to the last birthday she’d spent in Philadelphia with her family. Their mother, Wanda, had baked a chocolate cake, which she did three times a year – for each of the children’s birthdays, since that was their very favorite, but too expensive for ‘everyday’.

 

Bess remembered the day like it was only yesterday – she’d gotten the pair of roller skates that she’d been begging for ever since she saw them in the window at Woolworth's at Christmastime. At the time, her mother had told her they were too dangerous, she’d break an arm with those contraptions strapped to her feet, dashing Bess' hopes that she’d find them under the Christmas tree. That birthday had been one of the best days of her entire life, and, although she did get a few scraped knees and elbows and once she banged up her chin, she never did break an arm, even when she crashed at the bottom of Lemon Tree Hill after going faster than the wind all the way down the steep street.
 
Bess opened her eyes and looked at Spike and Buffy with childlike wonder. “It’s … it’s wonderful!” she exclaimed. “But certainly much too expensive to waste …” she objected, setting the drink back down next to Buffy.
 
“If you like it, then it’s not a waste,” Buffy explained, pushing the drink back towards her. “Here … try some waffles, too – they’re ‘scrummy’,” Buffy told her, using the same word that Bess had used so many years ago to describe the treacle pudding that Nell had made that night she’d eaten dinner with them.
 
Bess hesitated momentarily, then picked up a fork and dug into the waffles and syrup with enthusiastic abandon, and they were nearly as wonderful as the chocolate drink, in fact, everything she tried was wonderful in its own way, and sent old memories racing through her mind of happier times with her family. She didn’t fight the feeling of warmth that washed through her body, but didn’t take time to dwell on it or ponder what it meant. Bess watched as Spike crumbled up some Weetabix and burba weed into his mug of blood, and she followed his lead and soon the three were chatting and eating, making plans for a shopping trip after their afternoon ‘breakfast’, including a stop at a sweet shop to get more of those Cadbury fudge and Wispa bars, before they had to go back to the Council Headquarters and meet with Giles, Wes, and Faith and try to sort out what to do next.
 
**~**
 
Buffy checked with the concierge about shopping in the area, and they recommended Camden Markets, which was only a couple of miles away, less if they cut through Regents Park, so Buffy put on her boots and gave Bess her sneakers, even though they were a little big on her, and they headed out … well, sort of…
 
Bess stood under the canopy at the front of the hotel and shook her head adamantly, crossing her arms over her chest and standing firm – out of the sunlight.
 
“Bess, it’s ok – the Gem will protect you,” Buffy assured the girl, but all kinds of warning bells were ringing in Bess’ head, screaming ‘danger!’ at the top of their lungs and freezing her in her tracks.
 
“No … I can’t,” she argued, pulling back away from Buffy when Buffy tried to guide her into the light. “Why can’t we go tonight?”

 

“We have to go back to the Council building tonight and figure out what to do … we don’t have much time, Bess – we need to go get you some clothes and shoes that fit and something for your hair and … chocolate!” Buffy cajoled. “You like chocolate, right? Well, to get it, we have to go into the sun. I promise it will be alright…”
 
Bess shook her head again. She didn’t like chocolate enough to die for it.
 
Buffy sighed and walked back under the canopy with her. Spike … can you come downstairs– I need some help, Buffy sent through the bond. “Bess, remember how you got stabbed and the wound just healed?” Buffy asked.
 
“Yeah…” Bess answered hesitantly.
 
“Well, this is the same thing – the Gem protected you from that, and it’ll protect you from the sun, too,” Buffy tried again, but Bess was having no part of it – the alarms blaring in her brain kept her frozen in place.
 
“What’s goin’ on?” Spike asked a moment later when he emerged from the hotel and joined them under the canopy.
 
“She won’t go out in the sun,” Buffy explained with a sympathetic frown.
 
“Ahhh, well now … that is a bit of a pickle, innit?” Spike questioned rhetorically as he stepped up in front of Bess. “Feels like every cell in your body wants to run back inside, it does. Makes the hair on the back o’ your neck stand up and sends tingles shooting down your spine…takes all your willpower just to stand ‘ere, yeah? Bloody frightenin’.”
 
Bess looked up and met his eyes and nodded thoughtfully, somewhat surprised that he knew just how she felt.
 
“I remember the first time I had the Gem, just like you, I hadn’t been in the light for decades,” Spike began sympathetically. “I went outside in the street and watched the sun rise over the horizon, watched its rays inch closer and closer to m’ body and I wanted to run back in more than I’d ever wanted anything before, but you know why I didn’t?” Spike asked her.
 
“Because you’re insane?” Bess answered, not entirely kidding.
 
“Nooo …” Spike assured her, thinking she sounded just like Buffy with that smart-ass answer. “’Cos I could remember what the sun on m’ skin felt like. I could remember how warm it was and how it tingles when it touches you and how bloody brilliant it was. Can you remember the sun, Buttercup?” Spike wondered.
 
Bess pulled her top lip into her mouth, chewed on it lightly with her teeth and closed her eyes as she searched her memories … it didn’t take long for her remember the sun. She was about eleven when their parents had packed the family up and headed for Atlantic City for their summer vacation. A whole week spent in the sand and surf and on the famous boardwalk, running and laughing and swimming and playing in the sun with her brother and sister and what seemed like a million other families. Anne and Billy’s tender, alabaster skin had gotten sunburned, but Bess spent most of her time outdoors playing, not indoors reading books, and she’d just turned a golden tan by the end of that week. She’d forgotten how much she loved being outdoors, romping and playing in the sun … it seemed like a different life, a life lost a very long time ago.

 

Bess opened her eyes and looked at Spike as tears welled in her eyes. “I remember…” she whispered to him.
 
“Good…now, keep that memory right here,” he admonished her, tapping her on her forehead. “Ignore all them buggerin’ alarms and just remember the sun, can you do that?”
 
“I’ll try.” Bess took a deep breath and kept running the memory of that trip like a video loop in her mind, concentrating on it with all her strength to keep it in front and pushing the warning bells to the back of her mind.
 
“Good, now reach out and take Buffy’s hand,” Spike instructed her, motioning to Buffy to step out into the sun at the side of the canopy.
 
Buffy backed up into the sunlight and reached her hand out towards Bess and Bess hesitantly reached her hand towards Buffy. When she got to the spot where the sun met the shade, she stopped momentarily and closed her eyes, running the scenes from Atlantic City in her mind faster and faster. Bess opened her eyes and swallowed hard then quickly reached the rest of the way out to grasp Buffy’s hand in the sunlight.
 
She stopped and waited for the sun to burn her, for the pain, for the smoke … but nothing happened; nothing except the warmth of the sun tingling and heating her skin. Bess’ eyes went wide with joy and wonder and she looked back at Spike. “I did it!” she exclaimed. “It doesn’t burn!”
 
Spike smiled at her as she practically danced out from under the canopy into the sun, holding her arms out away from her sides and lifting her face to the rays. “Oh my God! I’m in the sun! It’s really true! It won’t hurt me!”
 
Buffy met Spike’s eyes with hers as he stayed under the safety of the canopy and she could see tears glistening in his eyes for his girl; tears of joy, tears of pride, tears of regret that she’d been kept from such a simple joy for so long. Spike nodded and gave Buffy a smile and Buffy began guiding the giddy girl down the sidewalk towards the marketplace. If Bess thought that was fun, wait until they got to the shoe shop.
 
Spike let out a sigh as he watched them walk away … watched them go where he couldn’t any longer, but his self pity was quickly replaced with a peaceful gladness that he could give that joy back to his daughter. When the girls turned a corner and disappeared from sight, Spike turned around to head back into the hotel and found a small group of people had gathered around them, watching the spectacle. “What’s the matter, never seen anyone cured of heliophobia before?” he asked the group with disdain as he pushed past them and went back inside.
 
**~**
 
Shopping with Bess was more of a challenge than Buffy had anticipated … styles had changed drastically since Bess had been in the world and it was hard to convince her that girls could wear things other than modest dresses that fell below the knee. Buffy finally convinced her to try on some jeans and she bought two pairs, along with two soft, stretchy, colorful and wrinkle-free tank tops. They also bought a simple cotton dress that Bess liked and got her some strappy, flat sandals to wear with it, a pair of boots, and a retro, tie-die t-shirt that Bess was intrigued with. Underwear wasn’t a big problem, although Bess was a bit surprised by the lack of actual material in the current version of bloomers, making her wonder if there was some kind of shortage in that particular type of fabric. Bras were a challenge … Bess was somewhere between a B and a C cup, the B was too small, the C was really too big. Buffy had seen half size cups at the department store back home, but they didn’t have any in any of the shops in the marketplace. The dilemma was solved when they passed a sporting goods store … sports bras would work perfectly. While they were in there, Buffy picked out a one piece bathing suit for Bess, too, just in case they found an actual swimming pool.
 
Buffy held her breath at the last store they stopped at, the candy shop, hoping that she hadn’t maxed out her credit card. Who knew it was so expensive to clothe a teenager, even meagerly? Even with just the basic toiletries, two pairs of shoes, a backpack she could use as a carry-on suitcase, and not even enough clothes to make a week without having to do laundry or re-wear an outfit, it had completely blown the breathing room they’d had on the one credit card they normally used. She had two others – one had the airline tickets and hotel bill on it, the other was clear, but she was trying hard not to run up more debt, especially since they were now both officially unemployed.
 
“Sorry … it was declined,” the young girl behind the counter told Buffy nonchalantly, handing the card back to her.
 
“Oh … I’m sorry … ummmm, here, try this one,” Buffy stammered embarrassed as she handed her the other card, but the girl didn’t bat an eye as she re-ran it, apparently having cards declined wasn’t anything new to her, but it was to Buffy.
 
**~**
 
“Ow! Ow! Ooow! Ow!” Bess exclaimed as Buffy tried to comb the tangles out of her daughter's long hair later that evening.
 
Buffy sighed and stopped pulling on the comb, dropping her hands to her sides in defeat. She’d already used half a bottle of creme rinse and two bottles of Johnson’s ‘No More Tangles’ on Bess’ thick hair … but it was no use.
 
They’d gotten back to the hotel, showed Spike their purchases and had late afternoon tea, then Buffy tried to get Bess’ hair combed out for the first time in God only knew how many years before they had to head back to the Council building.
 
“I’m sorry … I don’t think we’re gonna be able to get it,” Buffy admitted, laying the comb back down on the dresser. “I’m gonna have to cut it …”
 
Bess scrunched her nose up and frowned deeply. “But girls don’t have short hair … it’s not proper,” she complained.
 
Buffy let out a long breath. “It’ll be alright,” she assured the girl. “Nowadays girls have any length hair they want … believe me, no one will think anything of it. It’ll be cute … and it’ll grow back, trust me.”
 
Bess sighed as she ran her hand over the damp mass of tangles. “If you’re sure…”

 

“Beyond sure … it’ll be fine,” Buffy confirmed as she pulled a pair of scissors from one of the shopping bags – happy that she’d anticipated this possibility earlier when they were at the market.
 
Buffy started by trying to cut about half the length off Bess’ hair and see if she could get the rest to detangle … but it was no use; it was like trying to detangle Bob Marley’s dreadlocks… it wasn’t happening. Buffy snipped Bess’ hair shorter and shorter until it was a chin length bob, then she went back to trying to detangle what remained. Finally, after an epic battle of wills, Buffy prevailed over Bess’ thick, blonde curls. Buffy massaged some mousse into the girl’s hair and let her curls take over, running her fingers through her short, blonde locks and just letting them fall naturally around her face.
 
Willow had called earlier and asked for a photo for the passport, so Buffy turned her attention to Bess’ face – she was supposed to be eighteen, not fourteen. Buffy shaped the girl’s brows and applied some makeup, eye shadow, rouge, lipstick, and mascara, all in natural tones that complimented Bess’ creamy white complexion, and gave her a slightly older look. When she was done, Buffy sat back and looked at her – it was like looking at a completely different girl than the one they’d brought out of the dungeon. All cleaned up with her hair short, and now curly, and the makeup … Bess’ beauty had been let out of its dungeon as well.
 
“You look beautiful,” Buffy told her, turning the girl around by the shoulders to face the mirror.
 
“Do I?” Bess questioned, running a hand through her short hair – it felt funny to be so short, but it was really fluffy and soft, too, which was a change from the old matted tangles she’d had for so long.
 
“Yes, you’re a lovely young lady,” Buffy assured her, but then moaned when she looked in the mirror and realized her mistake. She turned Bess back to face her, away from the empty mirror. “Sorry…” she muttered as she picked the smart phone up off the dresser and tried to remember how to take a picture with it … Giles had just showed her a little while ago when Willow had called.
 
“Ok, let’s see … Oh, yeah, I remember now,” Buffy said confidently as she held the phone up and framed Bess’ face. “Ok, say ‘cheese!’” Buffy instructed brightly and Bess looked at her with confusion. “Never mind, just smile…” she amended. “Like when you walked out into the sun…”
 
Buffy took a few pictures and showed them to Bess on the phone. Bess looked at the photos of herself with a mix of wonder and amazement … she pretty much looked the same as she remembered, except she’d always had long hair and it had been more wavy than curly, but her face looked the same. The makeup made her look a little older, she supposed, but basically, she hadn’t changed at all.

 

“You have your father’s eyes,” Buffy pointed out to her. “The most beautiful blue … and so expressive.”
 
Bess looked back at the photo and thought of Spike’s eyes as she ran a hand over her face, trying to feel what she could see reflected in the photo. “And I think your mouth … and nose …” Bess observed with a touch of wonder, looking from the photo up to Buffy’s face. “Are you sure my hair’s not too short? People may think I’m a boy,” Bess worried.
 
Buffy snorted a soft laugh. “I can guarantee that no one will think you’re a boy. I think it looks really cute on you – honest.
 
“Ok, we better get ready to go and I have to give the phone back to Giles so he can email that picture to Willow and we can get you a passport,” Buffy told her, taking the phone back from Bess.
 
“Are we … am I to go back to California with you?” Bess wondered.
 
“That was the plan … Do you want to go back with us?” Buffy questioned, suddenly realizing that they had assumed she would want to go, but no one had ever actually asked Bess.
 
“Would I be … I mean … would I live in your house with your other children? Do you have room?” Bess asked as she considered Buffy’s question.
 
“We have plenty of room,” Buffy assured her then sat down on the chair next to Bess. “We know you’re not a child, Bess, but the world has changed a lot since … well, since you lived in it. You could live with us, we could show you how things work now, you could finish high school if you wanted to, maybe go to college even or … well, whatever you wanted to do.”
 
Bess looked down at her hands, which were folded in her lap, and nodded. She’s always dreamed of getting out of the dungeon, but she’d never really thought about the reality of being out. Never considered where she would live or what she would do or even how she would fit into the world – a nineteenth century vampire in the twenty-first century. “I … I hadn’t really thought about, you know, what I would do,” Bess admitted, looking back up at Buffy. “I very much appreciate the kindness you’ve shown me. I think I would like to stay with you, if you’re sure it wouldn’t be a burden … Billy says California is nice.”

 

Buffy smiled softly and reached out to brush a stray curl away from her eyes. “Bess, you are not a burden or a bother – you’re a joy to us. Spike and I are both sorry for all you’ve been through, we hope we can make it up to you … give you good memories to replace the bad ones,” Buffy reassured her, dropping her hand away from the girl’s face and laying it over Bess’ where she had them folded in her lap and giving them a squeeze.
 
“Now, we better get going before Giles sends a St. Bernard with a cask of whiskey to come find us,” Buffy teased, as she stood up. “We’ll meet you in the hall in ten minutes, ok?”
 
Bess nodded and stood up as well, dropping the towel that she’d had wrapped around her body since Buffy had re-washed and crème-rinsed her hair, and picking up a pair of the new jeans that Buffy had bought for her on their shopping trip. She sighed as she started to pull them on, she still wasn’t sure people wouldn’t think she was a boy in trousers and short hair…
 
**~**
 
“Who is this vision in blue?” Spike questioned when he stepped out in the hall and saw Bess already waiting for them. She was dressed in blue jeans and a blue tank top and the boots that they’d bought that day.

 

Bess smiled shyly and tucked a strand of her hair behind one ear. “Does it look alright?” she questioned, waving her arms out to encompass her outfit.
 
“Looks like you’re waiting for an unworthy berk to pick you up for a date … too bad you’ll have to settle for us,” Spike observed with a smirk. Buffy was still getting ready, she’d sent him out to tell Bess she’d be just a couple more minutes. Spike had taken the tape off his nose, it seemed to be set back in its proper place, but his eyes were still a bit blackened and swollen.
 
“Is my hair … it’s not too short?” Bess questioned, running a hand through her curls and tousling them.
 
“The do’s quite fetchin’,” Spike assured her. “You’re just as beautiful as your mum.”
 
Bess smiled again and looked down at the ground, fidgeting nervously. She’d had lots of men compliment her skills in the white room, but none had ever actually told her she was beautiful … Her mom and dad used to tell her that, but they didn’t really count, certainly every parent thought their child was beautiful. Bess frowned suddenly … was that what this was, too? Spike was her father … her real father, as Anne used to say, when she told her stories of their life ‘before’.
 
Bess looked up and met Spike’s eyes. “You’re just saying that … all parents think that,” she pointed out.
 
Spike’s brows shot up and he pursed his lips together. “Do they, now? Right then, maybe we should go downstairs and take a survey. I bet you won’t find one male, from the pimply-faced bell hop to the geriatric doorman that wouldn’t agree. What do you say? Ready to be proven beautiful?”
 
“You wouldn’t…” Bess protested, wringing her hands nervously, but at the same time curious about what a ‘real man’ … not her father, would think about her outfit and hair.
 
“Wouldn’t I?” Spike questioned, cocking a brow, just as Giles emerged from his room. It had taken him longer than expected to get the photo emailed to Willow … he still didn’t remember exactly what he’d done to finally get it to work. Maybe later Olivia could help him master that, as well…
 
“We can start right here,” Spike informed her with a smirk. “Watcher, what do ya think of our girl?”
 
Giles looked up from the phone at Bess and his eyes widened in surprise. He wasn’t sure he would’ve recognized her if they’d simply passed on the street. “She looks quite … clean,” Giles offered.

 

“Clean?” Spike questioned incredulously. “That the best you got? Clean? It’s a wonder that girl a’ yours didn’t toss you out of her car on your bloody ear before you cleared the soddin’ airport.”


 
“I … well … ummm,” Giles stammered, not sure what Spike wanted him to say.
 
“Quite fetchin’, ain’t she?” Spike prodded, turning Bess to face Giles.
 
“Indeed,” Giles agreed dryly.
 
Spike rolled his eyes. Rupert wasn’t playing along. Spike really wanted to instill some self-confidence in their girl; the wankers at the Council had broken her down, she needed to believe she had worth. She needed to really believe that she was beautiful and smart and strong, like Spike knew she was … otherwise, she wouldn’t stand a chance out in the real world. Without a sense of her own worth, she’d fall in with the first blighter that winked at her and that could only lead to even further erosion of her self-esteem and heartache and make it even harder for her to trust anyone, and that wasn’t what he wanted for her.
 
“You can’t deny, if you saw this lovely bird sitting alone, you’d chat her up in a heartbeat,” Spike continued.
 
Giles raised his brows and looked at Spike. What was he playing at? Spike widened his eyes and nodded at Giles, encouraging him to answer as he stood behind Bess, out of her view.
 
Giles removed his glasses and scrubbed them furiously with his handkerchief, finally replacing them before answering. “At the risk of being pummeled by her father …” Giles began hesitantly. “Bess is a lovely girl who’ll no doubt be breaking hearts from London to Los Angeles very shortly, and yes, if I were a few years younger, I’d definitely …errr … ‘chat her up’.”
 
“She’s a hundred and ten,” Spike reminded Giles with a smirk.
 
“Indeed, well then, perhaps if I were older …” Giles amended.
 
“What’s going on?” Buffy asked as she walked up behind Spike and Bess.
 
“I believe Spike is trying to create an excuse to pummel me…” Giles offered. “Shall we go before he succeeds?”
 
Buffy looked quizzically at Spike, but Spike just shook his head and rolled his eyes as the three blondes followed Giles down the stairs and out into the cool London night.
 
**~**
 
As they walked the short distance from the hotel to the headquarters building, Giles’ phone rang. It was Willow letting them know she’d gotten the passport taken care of, they just needed to go to the American Embassy and tell them they’d lost it and they would issue another one – it would show up on their computer as having been originally issued two months ago. She also said she was ready to perform the re-souling spell anytime they were.
 
Buffy looked at Spike who frowned deeply. He knew it had to be done, but worried what it would do to this girl that was just starting to find some joy in the world.
 
Spike … you know it has to be done. Without us, it will be the only thing to guide her – we can’t be by her side twenty-four hours a day to make sure she doesn’t do anything…bitey, Buffy urged him silently through their bond.
 
Spike met Buffy’s eyes with his as they walked and finally nodded his acquiescence. Giles told Willow they’d call back when they got to Council headquarters and she could go ahead and do it right off.
 
In the Council building, the foursome commandeered an empty office, which wasn’t hard because they were all empty. Spike sat Bess down in one of the guest chairs in front of the desk and knelt in front of her.

 

“They’re gonna put your soul back, pet,” Spike began softly. “It’ll hurt right here,” Spike rubbed his own chest to illustrate, “for a minute or so. What you need to remember more than anything, is what happened to you isn’t your fault. You were a good Slayer, you were just alone,” Spike assured her, repeating what Buffy had told him when they’d read Harold Travers’ diary about her ‘demise’. “But you’re not alone anymore – we’re here, your mum and me and Rupert and back home you’ll have the Nib… you’ll have Annie and Dani and Billy. We’ll all help you, you can talk to any of us, anytime, yeah?” Spike continued in a reassuring tone. “Nothing that’s happened was your fault … remember that.”
 
Bess looked at him with confusion on her face, not quite understanding what he was trying to say, but nodded anyway, he seemed to need her to understand and she didn’t want to disappoint him.
 
“Right then,” Spike concluded, looking at Giles and nodding, giving him the go-ahead to have Willow do the spell.
 
The group waited in the musty office. Buffy looked around and idly wondered if it was mandatory for all Watchers to have old books in their offices to make them smell … what was that supposed to smell like? Was that what intelligence smelt like? Or perhaps it was arrogance. Whatever it was, she was glad she didn’t have it.
 
“What’s taking so long?” Buffy wondered after about fifteen minutes of idle pondering.
 
“It does have to travel halfway around the world … I would guess it would take longer than if we were right there,” Giles offered.
 
“Wouldn’t China be halfway around the world?” Buffy questioned. “I mean, Mom always said if you dug straight down through the Earth, you’d come up in China … not England.”
 
“Actually, I believe, from California, you’d end up nearer Madagascar than China,” Giles corrected her dryly.
 
“Madagascar? Ewwww … they have really big, angry termites there,” Buffy quipped, but was met with blank stares from Giles and Spike. “Never mind, inside joke.”

 

“Inside what?” Giles wondered.
 
“The black hole that is my warped and sometimes brilliant mind,” Buffy offered with an eye roll as she made a mental note to not perpetuate the myth her mother had passed on to her about digging through to China. No wonder she was always horrible at geography.
 
After half an hour, just as Buffy was about to tell Giles to call Willow back, his phone rang. “Willow, have you completed the spell?” Giles questioned without preamble, putting the phone on ‘speaker’ so everyone could hear.
 
“Yeah … well, that’s just it. I did it, just like before, but nothing’s happening. The orb isn’t capturing it from the ether …I tried it three times. I was hoping it had skipped a step and just gone right there,” Willow told him with disappointment. “I guess not, huh?”
 
“No, I’m afraid not,” Giles replied, looking at Bess who hadn’t moved from her chair or been in any distress at all.
 
“Well … maybe I was wrong about the distance not being a problem,” Willow offered, not really believing it, but it was the only hope she could think of to cling to.
 
“Perhaps…” Giles agreed halfheartedly, also not believing that was the problem. Although he wasn’t sure what the problem was precisely, he didn’t think distance was it.
  
 **~**
 
{{Click here to hear "Isn’t She Lovely” by Stevie Wonder on YouTube  }}

Isn't she lovely
Isn't she wonderful
Isn't she precious
Less than one minute old
I never thought through love we'd be
Making one as lovely as she
But isn't she lovely made from love

Isn't she pretty
Truly the angel's best
Boy, I'm so happy
We have been heaven blessed
I can't believe what God has done
Through us he's given life to one
But isn't she lovely made from love

Isn't she lovely
Life and love are the same
Life is Aisha
The meaning of her name
Londie, it could have not been done
Without you who conceived the one
That's so very lovely made from love
End Notes:
TBC ... Lots more on the way ...
Yummy, Yummy, Yummy by Passion4Spike
Author's Notes:
The group finds out why they couldn’t restore Bess’ soul and come up with a new plan for the Council. Spike and Buffy introduce Bess to more yumminess and they have their first real slay together in the outside world.
**

Music Referenced:
Yummy, Yummy, Yummy, by Ohio Express: http://youtu.be/-uo9tMoew6o
 **
ScreenCaps courtesy of ScreenCap Paradise:
http://www.screencap-paradise.com/?cat=3
**
Special thanks to 'epd4' for betaing this chapter!!
(Same night) Wednesday, April 28th, 2010, 8:30pm, London:
 
Faith, Wes, and the other Slayers had been at the Council headquarters building most of the day, cleaning up the mess in the dungeon, returning the bodies of the dead guards, Watchers, and doctors to their families for burial. It had been an exhausting and emotional exercise. The family members were told there had been a riot in the ‘mental ward’, which is where Jim told Faith their families thought they worked. The Council had some very deep ties within the police and coroner’s offices, there were no inquiries or autopsies. Death certificates were issued without question and, if the families wanted to keep the life insurance money and not get sued for breach of contract, they would have to abide by the rules of the non-disclosure agreement they’d all signed prior to their loved ones being hired.
 
When that was done, Faith set the more bookish Slayers to work looking through the books in Travers’ office, just to try and understand exactly what the point of it all was. Why did they even need a ‘super Slayer’ with so many ‘regular’ Slayers wandering the Earth now? Just what did they really hope to accomplish with their macabre experiments and were they really close to creating a ‘super Slayer’ as Travers had told Giles and Buffy?

 

“I think he was completely insane,” Amanda reported to Faith when Faith went in to check on the small group in Travers’ office after they’d been working for about three hours.
 
“Tell me something I don’t know…” Faith sighed as she plopped down on the well-worn, leather couch.
 
“No … I mean, I think he was really, clinically insane,” Amanda clarified. “Maybe he had a brain tumor or … he was just slipping into some type of mental illness ...”
 
“Why do you think that?” Faith questioned as Amanda sat down next to her, her hands full of manila file folders.
 
“Well … according to these reports from the doctors and witches conducting the experiments, they’ve been recommending terminating the program for at least fifteen years,” Amanda summarized. “They basically say, there’s no way to create fertile eggs and sperm from undead participants… they’ve been saying that for a while and it looked like Travers was getting close to shutting it down. But, about twelve years ago he changed his mind and became convinced that it could be done…”
 
“Cocobean’s eleven …” Faith offered thoughtfully.
 
“Exactly,” Amanda agreed. “He saw Buffy get pregnant from Spike … and from then on, he became fixated with them and with making his plan of creating a Super Slayer work. His personal diaries are filled with ramblings about ‘Anne Joyce’ and ‘the Key’ and research into hundreds of prophecies about Slayers and vampires – apparently Buffy isn’t the first Slayer to … well, get with a vamp … he was totally obsessed.”
 
“But the doctors and witches still said it couldn’t be done?” Faith questioned, looking at the large stack of reports that Amanda had been looking through. “Even after Annie?”
 
“Yeah … well, at first, anyway. They did a lot of research and concluded that one of the subjects, specifically the Slayer, had to be alive … the magic the monks used borrows life force from the Slayer and infuses it into the vamp for a several seconds at just the right … uhhhh … moment, but Travers still wouldn’t believe his plan wouldn’t work; he was convinced it would create an even stronger offspring if both parents were undead,” Amanda explained.

 

“Did he ever try with … you know, a live Slayer?” Faith questioned, her eyes dropping to the papers Amanda had in her hand.
 
Amanda shook her head. “Not that I’ve found … he … he talks about them as ‘subjects’ … as ‘things’, not people. I think he had a real problem with the undead mixing with the living, if you know what I mean. They weren’t people to him, they were just … monsters. I found some notes in his dairy about him getting a report from a dimension jumping demon about an extraordinarily strong child being created by two vampires, the report said that one of the vamps had a soul … but there aren’t any details about where or when or even who they were,” Amanda continued.
 
“That report just made him more adamant that it could be done. It got to the point that if anyone questioned him, they just disappeared, so they stopped questioning him and just kept trying different things. They even restored the souls of some of the vamps to see if that would …”
 
“What?” Faith interrupted her, sitting up, suddenly more alert.
 
**~**
 
Wes had joined Buffy, Spike, Bess, and Giles, and the two Watchers were postulating theories on why the soul restoration spell wouldn’t have worked when Faith burst into the office, pulling Amanda behind her.
 
Everyone stopped talking and looked up when the two Slayers came in.
 
“Have you tried the soul-restoration spell yet?” Faith questioned, looking at Buffy.
 
“Yeah … that’s what we were just…” Buffy began.
 
“And it didn’t work, did it?” Faith interrupted excitedly.

 

“No… how do you know?” Buffy questioned.
 
“Because I know why it didn’t work,” Faith replied confidently, turning to Amanda. “Tell them.”
 
Amanda cleared her throat and looked at the expectant faces in the room. “They already restored it … two years ago.”

 

The whole room filled with exclamations, “Bugger!” … “What!?” … “Dear Lord!” then everyone started talking at once, asking Faith and Amanda if they were sure, how did they know, are you really, really sure?
 
Faith held her hands up to stop everyone from talking. When they quieted down, she took the report from Amanda and handed it to Giles. “What? You think I’d just come in here half-cocked and say something like that? Yes, we’re sure. They did it in an effort to make her more … fertile.”
 
“Bloody wankers …” Spike muttered under his breath as he watched Giles scan the report. “Got off too easy, they did – the whole bloody lot of ‘em.”
 
Finally, Giles looked up and nodded his agreement, according to this report, sent from the ‘Super Slayer Creation Team’ to Travers, they had restored the souls in the two Slayer-vamps they had in the ‘program’ at the time, along with ‘four male subjects’, ‘however, the result thus far of breeding these subjects has been unfruitful.’
 
Buffy turned to Bess, who was sitting on the couch next to her. “Did you know about this? Did you know they’d restored your soul?” she questioned softly.

 

Bess looked down at her hands which were folded in her lap and then nodded slightly, afraid they were upset with her.
 
“Why didn’t you tell us?” Buffy continued, laying a hand on Bess’ shoulder.
 
Bess shrugged, still looking down at her hands.
 
Buffy sighed and looked up at Spike for help, who had started pacing the length of the small office when Faith dropped her bomb on them, not sure what more to say or do. Bess had lived like a lab rat in that dungeon, being used as nothing more than a breeding machine by the researchers and a sex toy for her captors, with her soul fully intact for two years … it was a wonder she hadn’t gone completely insane by now. She didn’t have part of her soul like Buffy had suggested to Spike, but the whole thing.
 
That explained a lot of her behavior: her desire to not be a burden or a bother, her worry about what others thought of her, her desire to please, her effort to keep Spike from being taken to the blue room; it also explained Billy’s dreams, which began about two years ago – her soul, like Dani’s, was somehow tied to Billy’s. Even with her soul, the conditions she’d lived in for so long explained some of the other parts of her behavior – her original anger and attack on Buffy, Billy, and Spike in the dreams, her not having a problem offering sex to Spike as a stranger, when he first bested her, then to him in the white room, even when she knew he was her own father. Sex had become a commodity to her, something to trade to get what you wanted or keep from getting punished. There were no feelings attached to it, it wasn’t about love, it was about survival. Buffy wondered if she’d ever be able to truly love now … it would’ve been one thing if she’d lived that life as a soulless vamp, but to have that life tattooed on her soul…
 
Spike knelt down between Buffy and Bess and laid a hand over his daughter’s where they were folded in her lap, his larger hand completely covering her small, but deadly, fists.  “No worries, then,” Spike assured her. “Just means Red ain’t lost her mojo after all.”
 
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you,” Bess began softly, finally looking up at Spike. “You seemed … you wanted to do it yourself, so … I didn’t think it would hurt anything to do it again.”
 
“True enough,” Spike agreed. “Never know, the Council wankers mighta’ missed a bit … this way, we’re sure, yeah?”
 
Bess nodded and Spike gave her a smile and Bess finally smiled softly back at him. “There’s m’ lovely girl,” Spike told her adoringly, touching a finger to her jaw. “You should smile more, princess … you light up the whole room.”
 
Bess smiled a little wider but dipped her head in embarrassment. Spike patted a hand down on her knee and stood up, trying not to sigh. This was going to be harder than he thought to build her self-esteem back and try to teach her how to live, how to trust, how to love. Everyone in her life had let her down; no one had meant to … well, maybe Harold Travers, Spike wasn’t so sure about the Watcher’s intentions. Regardless of intentions, they’d all let her down just the same, starting with him. He vowed to not let that happen again … she’d been let down by the people she trusted for the last time.
 
**~**
 
Buffy asked Amanda if she could look in Travers’ office for her jewelry and Spike asked her to have the girls look for his duster, and the Slayer left the Sunnydale group (plus Bess) alone in the office they’d commandeered.
 
“So, what’s the plan now?” Faith asked no one in particular when Amanda had left.
 
“I believe that is the question of the hour,” Giles replied dryly as he took a seat behind the desk. Wes and Faith sat opposite him in the visitor’s chairs and Buffy, Bess, and Spike sat off to the side of the desk on the couch.
 
“Well I, for one, think the Watchers have been yanking Slayers around like pawns for long enough,” Spike spoke up. “Why don’t you change it ‘round a bit? Put the Watchers to work for the Slayers?”
 
“Awesome idea!” Faith enthused, leaning forward in her seat. “You can go fight the vamps and I’ll go dancing!” she told Wes, hitting him in the arm.

 

“Owww!” Wes moaned, rubbing his arm where she hit him and scowling at her. “That would be a short-lived exercise in futility … and when I say ‘short-lived’ I do mean that literally.”
 
Spike rolled his eyes and stood up. “That’s not what I mean. You nits ‘ave been treating Slayers like they’re all brawn and no brains for-bloody-ever. It’s … it’s chauvinistic and … well bloody misogynistic, if ya’ ask me.”
 
“I take exception to that characterization!” Giles complained. “I’ve never treated Buffy…”

 

“Don’t get your knickers in a twist, Watcher … not you, particularly, just the whole bloody system,” Spike defended waving his arms out to the side emphatically. “Slayers ‘ave been doing the bidding of the Council for eons … I just think it’s time they get the bloody respect they deserve. They aren’t tools – they’re people! Smart people, strong people, talented, resourceful, and bloody amazin’ people – all I’m sayin’ is it’s about time someone ‘round here realized that and started giving them some respect, getting their input and opinions before sending them off to do battle with the beasties.”
 
No one said anything for a moment, contemplating Spike’s words. “That’s just my opinion, o’ course … and what would William the Bloody know about Slayers? Just fought and killed two of ‘em, married one, and got at least one for a bit …” Spike finished, sitting back down on the couch between Buffy and Bess.

 

Buffy smiled at him and took his hand in hers, squeezing it tightly. It made her feel warm and fuzzy inside to hear him stand up for her and their daughters so eloquently and passionately.
 
Giles cleared his throat and everyone looked at him. “Indeed, well, I don’t believe anyone could argue with that assessment of the past, and certainly change is necessary. The question then would be, how do we create an organization that could function with Watcher and Slayer more as a team and less autocratically, but still get things done? Democracies are nice, but the wheels turn slowly … we often haven’t time to consult everyone when we’re facing an apocalypse. There needs to be clear leadership in such cases, otherwise, we will most certainly lose.”
 
“Yeah, but ninety-five percent of the time, what we’re battling is just your ordinary, everyday demon population …” Faith pointed out. “We have an army of Slayers – why don’t we organize it like an army? Get a general, a leader who has the final, unquestionable call on tactics, and lieutenants to take those orders back to the troops. We pick the best Watchers and best Slayers for the LTs, choose a general from them.” Faith proposed. “But for the rest of the time, Watchers and Slayers work as individual teams or in groups … like we always have in SunnyD.”
 
“And have the Council provide support for the Watchers and Slayer teams in the field, with centralized research and a maybe you could start actually sharing information between the teams so we can see the end of the world coming before it sneaks up and bites us in the ass,” Buffy added.


 
“Sharing information, now that would be a new concept,” Faith agreed with a hint of sarcasm, looking from Giles to Wes.
 
“What do you think, Buttercup?” Spike asked Bess, who had been listening to the conversation attentively.
 
“Me? I … I was only a Slayer for a short while… I’m sure you all know better…” she stammered, taken off guard by Spike asking her.
 
“You’re still a Slayer, pet … that don’t go away when the demon takes you,” Spike pointed out. “In fact, I’d say you’re the strongest bloody Slayer I’ve ever met.”
 
All eyes turned to Bess and she looked nervously from Spike to Buffy, then to the others in the room before clearing her throat. “I … well, one thing I would suggest is to not take newly called Slayers away from their families… it’s quite … disconcerting. From what you say, there are hundreds of Slayers now, so perhaps there is no need to remove the girls from their homes, at least not immediately. I think … I think I would’ve been a better Slayer if I’d had my family near, not just my Watcher.”
 
Spike smiled and nodded reassuringly at her, then turned back to face the group. “Girl makes a good point. This ‘walking alone’ bollocks has run its course … time to change the rules, Watcher. Question is, do you have the stones to do it?” Spike challenged, looking at Giles.
 
“I can assure you that I have plenty of … stones, Spike,” Giles defended tersely. “However, I think that, to avoid falling into the same pitfalls the Council has experienced previously, it may be a wise choice to govern by committee, including Slayers and Watchers … somewhat like the board of directors of a corporation, so no one person or group has too much power,” Giles proposed.


 
“Oh! Like the Justice League!” Faith interjected brightly. “Do we get a super-secret location for the meetings and a special handshake?”


  
“Uhhh …” Giles began, not really sure if she was serious or not, “We can consider that, however, the first order of business would be for the committee to choose the ‘apocalypse leaders’ who will take charge in times of ultimate crisis, as Faith suggested. From there, the team, along with the Council leadership committee, can choose the leader of that team – the General, the one person who will have final say during a crisis. From there, we can draft a new set of bylaws for the Council … including how new Slayers are approached, trained, and so forth, and perhaps we could get Willow to look into ways we can use technology to open the lines of communication between all the Slayers and Watchers and make research more … centralized.”
 
“How many people do you propose should be on this committee?” Wes wondered. “And what ratio Slayer to Watcher?”
 
“I … well, I hadn’t quite thought that far ahead, but perhaps twelve would be a good number, equally divided?” Giles suggested.

 

“And who breaks a tie? Or do we mud wrestle for it?” Faith questioned with a sly smile.
 
“I’m sure that would be to your liking …” Giles replied dryly. “But no … we need someone neutral, who can see both sides of an issue and make a decision based on the facts as presented by the opposing viewpoints. A thirteenth member who is neither a Watcher nor a Slayer.”
 
“Look no further!” Spike volunteered, raising his hand. “Just call me Mr. Neutrality…”
 
Giles rolled his eyes. “I believe you’ve made your lack of neutrality quite clear a bit earlier,” Giles pointed out.
 
“Fred,” Buffy suggested.
 
“Fred!?” Spike exclaimed. “She’s shaggin’ a bloody Watcher! How does that make her neutral?” Spike questioned incredulously. “Although … that could work in our favor…” Spike added with a smirk, looking at Wes.
 
Wes scratched his nose with one finger … not his index finger, which only made Spike’s smirk deepen. “Touched a nerve, did I?” Spike jibed lightly.
 
“Fred’s the most analytical and earnest person I’ve ever known,” Buffy explained her suggestion, ignoring the male posturing. “If you tell her to make a decision based on the facts, I know she will.”
 
“Bloody hell! I can make decisions based on the soddin’ facts!” Spike argued.
 
Buffy raised her brows and gave him a ‘give me a break’ look and Spike crumbled, his shoulders slumped, and he rolled his eyes. “Fine … I make decisions with m’ gut…” he admitted.
 
“What about Glinda? She’s fair, smart, strong, got good sense, even got a sixth sense ‘bout things,” Spike suggested.
 
“I don’t know,” Buffy sighed, considering his suggestion. “Tara’s got so much … empathy. I’d be afraid she’d be able to see both sides too well and get mired down not wanting to hurt anyone’s feelings.”
 
Buffy looked at Wes. “What do you think about Fred?” she asked him.

 

Wes nodded thoughtfully. “I think you’re quite right … her feelings for me wouldn’t sway her neutrality, however, I can’t say the same if any decision involved Angel… That’s her blind spot, her Achilles heel.”
 
“Well, I doubt anything the committee would be considering would involve Angel. My guess is that would fall to the head of the apocalypse team,” Buffy offered with a sigh.
 
“Ok, so how do we choose the committee?” Faith questioned, looking at Giles.
 
“Well, I believe we start with the people in this room, the most senior Slayers and Watchers, from there, we invite applications from the Watcher/Slayer populace. I think Spike would be a good addition, but he will be placed in a ‘Slayer’ spot if he chooses to participate,” Giles recommended.

 

“Naaaa … I don’t play well with others … if the bloody PTA meeting I went to is any gauge, it'd be a bloody miracle if I didn't kill someone within the first ten minutes. If I can’t be in charge, I’ll just leave the bureaucracy to you lot,” Spike explained, glad that Giles thought enough to invite him, but knowing that he’d never have the patience for it. “Wouldn’t mind being on the apocalypse team, though…”
 
“Very well then; that means we have three Slayer spots filled and two Watchers – we’ll need three more Slayers and four more Watchers and we’ll need to speak with Fred,” Giles summarized.
 
“Three?” Bess questioned. “But … you’re putting me on the committee?”
 
“As Spike pointed out, you are a Slayer,” Giles replied. “In fact, you’ve eclipsed your mother by several decades as the eldest Slayer and you have a rather unique perspective, with your ability to see the world through the eyes of the demon. Who better to keep the Council from going astray than someone who has known just how horribly wrong good intentions can go?”
 
Bess looked from Giles to Spike and then to Buffy, who both nodded their encouragement. Bess looked back at Giles, “I … I will do my best … but if you feel I’m not adequate, simply tell me and I will step away. I don’t want to hinder progress…”
 
“Sometimes I think some hindering of progress would be a welcome change,” Giles assured her with a sigh. Turning his attention to Wes and Faith he asked, “Wes, could you draft a letter to all the Watchers and Slayers, letting them know what is happening, tell them about the changes that are being proposed, and ask for applicants for the remaining committee positions?”
 
“Certainly … I assume we can use the office staff which is already in place?” Wes questioned.
 
“I see no reason why not,” Giles agreed. “Faith, could you check on security, look into getting new security guards hired and so forth?”
 
“I’m on it,” Faith agreed eagerly.
 
“I believe we have the core of the apocalypse team here, over the next weeks we need to add to it. Buffy, perhaps you and Faith could work on coordinating some type of interview and testing process to select the best and brightest from which to choose more lieutenants,” Giles continued meting out duties.
 
“Yeah, sure,” Buffy agreed. “While we’re here, we could start with Slayers and Watchers that are in Europe … save some travel time and expense. Speaking of which … am I on the payroll again?”
 
“I believe we should be able to find sufficient funds to provide a salary for the three of you,” Giles agreed, meaning Spike, Buffy, and Bess.
 
“Buttercup's been on the clock for a bloody century … probably owe her a bit o' back pay…” Spike hinted.
 
“And a raise wouldn’t hurt the rest of us…” Faith suggested.
 
“Indeed – well, let’s take one thing at a time, shall we? To do any of that, we will need someone to run the day to day business here. I’m sure there are operational procedures in place, but someone must be here to assure things run smoothly and take care of the finances, payrolls, taxes, etcetera,” Giles pointed out.
 
“You know who would be great at that?” Buffy interjected. “Anya …”
 
“Although I agree, I doubt that Anya and Xander would want to move to London,” Giles agreed.
 
“Who says the Council has to be based in London? Is that like a rule? Even if it is, I thought we were changing the rules. Didn’t I just hear you say ‘change is necessary’ … or was I dreaming?” Buffy argued. “Wouldn’t it make more sense for the Council to be closer to the action … like, for example, on a Hellmouth … ooooh, say … in California?”

 

“B-but … it’s … Buffy, the Council has a long and storied history here, its tradition, its legacy, is here,” Giles stammered. “That’s an absolutely hideous idea … it would be akin to moving the Queen Mother to …”
 
“Get over it, Giles. B’s right,” Faith piped up, interrupting him. “There’s been enough pomp and circumstance, it’s time for the Council to get into the trenches, and SunnyD would be the perfect place to dig in.”
 
“Oh, Lord help me…” Giles moaned, shaking his head as he rubbed tiredly at his eyes.
 
“I think that means we’re moving!” Buffy announced gleefully. “Meeting adjourned.”
 
**~**
 
10:30pm, London:
 
Spike went and found Amanda when the meeting broke up – she had found his duster down in the white room, but couldn’t find Buffy’s jewelry. They had found a safe in Travers’ office, but so far hadn’t found the combination or been able to get it open, Amanda thought maybe Buffy’s jewelry was in there. Spike slipped his duster on and told Amanda to give him, not Buffy, the jewelry when they found it before joining Buffy and Bess near the front doors. Buffy was talking with Faith about how to get Slayers and Watchers gathered up from around Europe to be interviewed and tested for the apocalypse team leaders.
 
“Don’t worry,” Faith was assuring Buffy. “Wes and I’ll handle getting them here. There’s a big training room on the third floor, we can use that for sparring and testing them out.”
 
“Some may not even want to be leaders … there’s no sense even talking to them if they don’t want to be in that position,” Buffy pointed out.
 
“True … but you are talking about Slayers, here, B. ‘She who walks alone’ – pretty much wouldn’t be Slayers if they didn’t like being in charge,” Faith countered.
 
Buffy shrugged. “Yeah, you’re probably right. How many LTs do you think we’ll need?”

 

Faith shook her head. “I’ll see if I can find some info online about how some of the best armies were organized, ratios of leaders to … fighters or whatever,” Faith offered.
 
“Cool …” Buffy replied. “Ok, we’re gonna go. Spike’s still pretty messed up – he really needs some rest and rehabilitation. We’ll talk tomorrow, ok?”
 
“Yeah – no prob,” Faith agreed. “You know, with abdominal injuries like that, it’s a lot easier in a recliner than on the bed… it doesn’t stretch the stitches as much.”
 
Buffy looked at her with furrowed brow. “What’s easier?”
 
“‘Rehabilitation’,” Faith replied with a wink before turning away and heading back towards the offices.
 
Buffy laughed. “Well, thanks for the tip … I wonder if I can have one delivered to our room.”
 
 **~**
 
It was a nice night out; the air was cool, but not too cold, as the three blondes headed back in the direction of their hotel, then beyond, towards Regents Park. They all relished the feeling of freedom, of being outdoors under the stars in the fresh air – no one more than Bess, but Buffy and Spike had had enough of being inside, as well. Confined in that dark, dank, musty dungeon for just a few days was more than enough for them – Buffy still didn’t know how Bess had survived her interminable incarceration with her mind intact – much less her soul.
 
Spike was feeling much stronger, he hadn’t looked at his stomach wound since the previous night when Giles re-bandaged it, but it felt much, much better and he was hopeful that he’d be back to 100% within a few days. He had to admit, walking through the quiet, late night, London streets with Bess on one side and Buffy on the other, didn’t hurt. Just having them close, knowing they were alright, made him feel infinitely better.

 

“Look! Haagen Dazs!” Buffy exclaimed, breaking the comfortable silence that they’d been walking in, as she pointed to brightly lit sign about half a block down the road. “And it’s open! I’m starving!”
 
Spike laughed. “It’d be a might easier to keep track of when you’re not starving, pet,” he smirked sarcastically as they crossed the street and headed towards the ice cream shop.
 
“Hey!” Buffy defended, slapping him lightly in the stomach. “Don’t forget, I’m eating for two …”
 
Spike “omphed” as if all the breath had been knocked out of him as he bent forward holding his injured stomach with both arms and stopped walking.
 
“Oh God, Spike! I’m sorry! I forgot!” Buffy apologized immediately, stopping next to him and laying a hand gently on his shoulder. “Spike … are you alright? I’m sooo sorry…”

 

Buffy knelt down next to her husband, who was still doubled over in pain, and leaned her face in next to his. “Spike … I’m soooo sorry, what can I do?”
 
“M’ boots could use a shine,” Spike observed, looking down at his dirty, scuffed-up Docs as he reached a finger down towards them and wiped some of the grime off the top of one toe.
 
“Huh?” Buffy questioned, following his hand with her eyes before realization hit. “You poop-head! You aren’t hurt at all!” she accused, standing back up and slapping his back, harder this time.
 
“Well they do,” Spike pointed out, looking down at his boots as he straightened back up with a laugh. Buffy crossed her arms over her chest and glared at him, her bottom lip poking out in a dangerous pout.
 
“C’mon, Slayer … I’ll make it up to you – buy ya’ a sweet treat,” Spike offered, waving a hand at the ice cream shop.
 
“You think you can just buy me off with food after that stunt?” Buffy asked incredulously.

 

Spike shrugged. “Well … yeah.”
 
Buffy rolled her eyes and dropped her arms as she turned and started walking towards the ice cream shop. “C’mon, Bess – Spike’s treat … we’ll get two of everything!”
 
“Is he really alright?” Bess wondered as she caught up with Buffy, leaving Spike walking behind them, still chuckling lightly at getting her so easily.
 
“No – he’s far from alright, but he isn’t hurt,” Buffy informed their daughter.
 
Spike started feeling his pockets for his wallet, patting down his jeans and then his duster to no avail. “Uhhh … ladies, I’ll haveta owe you one … left m’ wallet in my other jeans,” he called after them just as they started in the door to the ice cream shop.
 
Buffy sighed and rolled her eyes as she fished money out of her purse. “You know what’s worse than a poop-head?” she asked Bess rhetorically. “A broke poop-head.”
 
**~**
 

Spike, Buffy, and Bess walked through the park with their waffle cones stuffed to overflowing with creamy, sweet goodness. Bess had gotten scoops of Belgian Chocolate and Crème Brûlée, Buffy had gotten Chocolate Midnight Cookies and Chocolate Pralines and Carmel, and Spike had gotten Dulce de Leche and Carmel Biscuits and Cream. Bess had to agree with Buffy that it was ‘yummy in the tummy!’ She hadn’t anything that tasted this good since … breakfast! Spike thought if Buffy moaned any louder after each bite, a Bobby would come along and arrest them for lewd and lascivious … what was worse, she was teaching Bess to do the same.
 
Not far into the park, the trio sat down on a bench to enjoy their treats. Spike watched the girls savor their sweet delights as he sat between them and smiled to himself as he licked the melting sides of his own cone. Maybe Bess would be able to just be a normal girl again … she was strong, no doubt about that, mentally and physically … but her emotional health remained to be proven. How badly had her soul been damaged during the last two years? There was no doubt that her self-esteem had taken a hard hit, what about her capacity to love?  She seemed to be trusting them … but did she really trust them or was she simply adapting, trying to fit in, not make waves, as she’d learned to do so well over her years in captivity? Would she ever be able to truly be her own person? Have the confidence to speak up for herself freely and let her true heart be known by another? Only time would tell…
 
They hadn’t been sitting long when four hooligans came down the footpath from the opposite direction, rough-housing with each other and laughing as they walked.
 
“Well, well, well … what do e ‘ave ‘ere?” one of them asked as they reached the three blondes.
 
“Looks like some sweet treats to me,” another answered as the four boys surrounded Buffy, Spike, and Bess.
 
Buffy sighed heavily and rolled her eyes as she handed her ice cream cone to Spike. “Guard that with your life … and don’t eat it,” she warned him as she reached into her waistband and retrieved a stake.
 
“Whoa-ho!” the leader exclaimed in mock fear. “Little cutie’s brought her own dildo! You don’t need that, sweetheart, I got the real thing for ya right here,” he told her, grabbing his crotch.
 
Bess followed Buffy’s lead and handed Spike her ice cream cone too while she sized up the two bullies nearest her.
 
“I’m gonna give you a choice,” Buffy told them calmly. “I can make this quick and easy or I can make it slow and very painful …”
 
“Oh, yeah, baby! You know I like it rough! Hurt me! Hurt me good!” one of the boys that was behind them exclaimed with a raucous laugh.
 
“I don’t think you know what you’re dealing with, blondie,” the leader informed her with a growl as he morphed into his vampire visage and the others followed suit.
 
Spike snorted a soft laugh as he sat back comfortably on the bench holding the three ice cream cones in a triangle with both hands. “I think it’s you blighters who don’t know what you’re dealin’ with. Don’t they teach you tossers anything anymore?”
 
Before any of the vamps could answer, Buffy and Bess sprang at them. Buffy dusted the leader right away, swinging the stake in a wide arc and embedding it into his heart in one fluid, deadly motion. “Don’t get dust on my ice cream!” she ordered Spike as she hit the second vamp in the gonads with a straight leg kick.

 

“Well, don’t stake the bloody wankers next to the soddin’ ice cream!” Spike countered as he moved his arms so the cones were as far away from the settling vamp dust as he could get them.
 
In a moment, there was a flurry of fists and fangs as the two Slayers took on the three remaining vamps. Spike sat back on the bench as the fight moved away, confident that the ice cream was out of the line of fire, and watched his Slayers dance the age-old ballet of death with the vamps. Spike casually licked the dripping ice cream off the sides of the cones as Buffy and Bess swung and ducked, punched and kicked and countered the blows from their adversaries. He couldn’t help but notice with awe how much Bess moved like Buffy … effortlessly, gracefully, deadly. Bess had one of her foes pinned down on the green grass of the park’s well manicured lawn when Buffy tossed her the stake and Bess dispatched him easily.
 
Spike winced when one of the other vamps came at Bess while she was still on the ground and she grabbed him between the legs and twisted his dangly-bits with all her strength, bringing the vamp to his knees with an ear-piercing screech before dusting him. Spike added ‘resourceful’ to his list of things that Bess had in common with Buffy, along with ‘ruthless’, as his own dangly-bits tried to make themselves as small as possible in empathy for the dimwitted vamp who thought the small girl would make an easy target.
 
Bess jumped back to her feet and turned to help Buffy, who was trading blows with the last vamp. Bess came up behind the hoodlum and thrust the stake into the vamp’s heart from the back just as Buffy came around with a roundhouse kick. When Buffy’s foot met nothing but air, she fell to the ground, unable to catch her balance from the unexpected nothingness her kick encountered.
 
“Oh! I’m sorry!” Bess exclaimed, moving over to Buffy quickly to offer her a hand up.
 
Buffy laughed lightly at her less than graceful dismount as she accepted Bess’ hand and got back to her feet. “No problem – good job,” Buffy assured her as she brushed off her backside with both hands. “See, isn’t it a lot easier to fight in jeans and boots than in long dresses?”

 

Bess nodded her agreement as she handed the stake back to Buffy. “You can keep it … a souvenir of our first slay together,” Buffy told her, waving it off.
 
Bess smiled and tucked it into the waistband of her jeans at her back where she’d seen Buffy keep it. “Thanks.”
 
Buffy wrapped an arm around Bess’ shoulders as they walked back towards Spike. “You may want to keep it out – we might need it for a certain poop-head if he’s eaten all our ice cream.”
 
**~**
  
{{Click here to hear "Yummy, Yummy, Yummy” by Ohio Express on YouTube  }}

Yummy, Yummy, Yummy.
I got love in my tummy,
And I feel like a-lovin you.
Love, you're such a sweet thing,
Good enough to eat thing
And that's just a-what I'm gonna do.
Ooh love, to hold ya,
Ooh love, to kiss ya,
Ooh love, I love it so.
Ooh love, you're sweeter,
Sweeter than sugar.
Ooh love, I won’t let you go.

Yummy, Yummy, Yummy,
I got love in my tummy,
And as silly as it may seem;
The lovin' that you’re giving,
is what keeps me livin'
And your love is like
Peaches and cream.
Kind-a like sugar,
Kind-a like spices,
Kind-a like, like what you do.
Kind-a sounds funny.
But love,honey
Honey. I love you.

Yummy, Yummy, Yummy,
I got love in my tummy,
That your love can satisfy;
Love, you're such a sweet thing,
Good enough to eat thing
And sweet thing, that ain't no lie.
I love to hold ya,
Oh love, to kiss ya,
Ooh love, I love it so.
Ooh love, you're sweeter,
Sweeter than sugar.
Ooh love, I won’t let you go
End Notes:
TBC ... gonna have some 'houekeeping' type work to do with the Council, but there will be some time for a little fun in London, too. Then back to SunnyD .. Still lots more to come... Later we'll find out how Bess fits in with the family and if Spike's fears about her trusting others are founded.
Standing Outside the Fire by Passion4Spike
Author's Notes:
The group continues working in London to get the apocalypse team leaders chosen and get the Council headquarters moved, but make time for some slayage and a little fun along the way, too.
**
A bō  is a Japanese long staff weapon which is typically around 6 ft (1.8 m) long, used in Japanese martial arts, in particular bōjutsu.
**
Music Referenced:
Standing Outside the Fire, Garth Brooks: http://youtu.be/XbkBp04ykQg
 **
ScreenCaps courtesy of ScreenCap Paradise:
http://www.screencap-paradise.com/?cat=3
**
Special thanks to 'epd4' for betaing this chapter!!
(The next night) Thursday, April 29th, 2010, 8:30pm, London:
 


It had been a long day at Council headquarters for Giles. The prospect of moving the entire operation from London to Sunnydale was overwhelming at best. The vast number of ancient tomes that the Council had not only in the headquarters building but also at the castle outside of London was a logistical nightmare. Many were irreplaceable … trying to find an economical, but also completely safe way to move them was proving to be difficult. On one hand, he agreed with Buffy that moving the Council closer to the action was a good idea, but the traditionalist in him really wanted to keep the status quo. On the other hand, moving the Council to Sunnydale would afford him the chance to be involved in its operation and keep him close to Edmond … and on the other hand, all the Council history was here, hundreds of years worth of history, along with the ancestral Watcher lineage … but on the other hand … sigh.
 
Giles walked slowly through the Highgate Cemetery in north London, passing tombs of his ancestors along with many other families of Watchers. When he was in London, Giles often found it relaxing to meander through the centuries old cemetery, which was filled not only with an impressive collection of Victorian mausoleums, gravestones, statuary, and elaborately carved tombs, but also trees, shrubbery, wildflowers, and even wildlife. The cemetery was even purported to sport its very own ‘King Vampire of the Undead’ … the ‘Highgate Vampire’. Urban legend from the 1970s claimed a medieval nobleman, who had practiced black magic in Romania, had been brought to England in a coffin in the early eighteenth century by followers who bought a house for him in the West End. He was buried on the site that later became Highgate Cemetery, and it was claimed that modern Satanists had roused him. Of course, Giles put no stake in such claims; he’d never seen a king vampire roaming these paths in any of his visits and he was fairly certain he would've noticed.
 
Giles took a seat near one of the oldest tombs on the grounds and tried to get his mind to simply relax for a moment. He wanted nothing more than to go home, which he now thought of as California … back to Sunnydale, back to the magic shop, back to Edmond – back to his life. He didn’t want to be, as Buffy put it, the ‘senior Watcher’ … the man in charge. He’d been happy with his life as it was and, now that he’d reconnected with Olivia, he was even happier. She’d shown considerable interest in understanding his role as a Watcher and what he and Buffy, along with the other Scoobies, actually did, and she hadn’t shied away from it this time. She’d even talked of spending some time with him in Sunnydale … making her living as a graphic artist afforded her the freedom to live nearly anywhere in the world – as long as it had an internet connection and FedEx. He was trying not to get his hopes up too high … trying not to feel like a giddy teenager who had just discovered girls, but he had to admit Buffy was right about one thing – life was too short to spend alone and the racing of his heart and fluttering in his stomach when he was with Olivia told him those old feelings hadn’t been extinguished, despite his best efforts over the last years since losing Jenny to do so.
 
Giles was pulled from his musings as the door of the crypt directly across the footpath from him opened with a rusty creak. He stood up from his seat and moved slowly towards the heavy door to investigate.
 
“Rupert … how good of you to come to my re-birth!”

 

“I wouldn’t have missed it, Quentin,” Giles replied dryly as Quentin Travers emerged from the Travers family tomb. Giles doubted that Spike actually meant to turn the Council Head, but with Spike bleeding so profusely from so many wounds, it was almost a given that Travers would’ve ingested some of Spike’s blood during their struggle.
 
“It really is astonishing! I know I’m dead, but I’ve never felt so alive! You really must give this a go, old chap! It’s exhilarating! I can see everything so clearly … smell every flower, every faint aroma …. hear every heartbeat!” Quentin exclaimed excitedly as he moved towards Giles.
 
“Was it worth it?” Giles asked his old boss coldly. “Was all the pain you put them through worth it?”
 
“Who? Your precious Slayer and her demon lover?” Quentin questioned. “If I could’ve gotten that prophecy child … I would’ve been unstoppable. We were mere weeks away from creating a Super Slayer…”
 
“Oh, please do stop!” Giles exclaimed. “They weren’t any closer to creating a Super Slayer than they were fifteen years ago when they told you it couldn’t be done! I read the reports, I know the truth of that royal fiasco.
 
“If you hadn’t been so bloody blind you might’ve seen that you had a ‘Super Slayer’ right there all along! If you had taken the time to actually acknowledge that vampires, especially those with a soul, were more than simply monsters to be used and destroyed,” Giles spat the words at him.
 
“Young Bess is a ‘Super Slayer’ you pillock! And you turned her into a …” Giles choked on his words as Bess’ shy expression and self-effacing demeanor flashed through his mind, making it impossible for him to voice what Travers had turned her into.
 
“You’ve always been too weak, Rupert. That’s why that Slayer of yours never fulfilled her potential … you couldn’t control her, and now you have a tiger by the tail and it will chew you up and spit you out! You think my job was simple? You think being the only thing between the demons and the rest of the world is easy? You’ll soon find out, I expect…” Travers countered.

 
“You never stood between the demons and the rest of the world … Buffy did. You ruled by fear and rested on your laurels and took credit for everything my Slayer did. She saved the world time and again, but that wasn’t living up to her potential. She gave you an army of Slayers, but that wasn’t enough. She gave her life to keep the world from being sucked into Glory’s hell dimension, but that still wasn’t good enough for you …” Giles ranted angrily.
 
“But I believe I finally understand you,” Giles continued, his voice becoming more thoughtful.
 
“Oh, please do tell!” Travers quipped, sitting down on a nearby headstone.
 
“It wasn’t that Buffy didn’t live up to her potential … it’s that she surpassed it. She was a Slayer with friends and a family of her own … she had a life apart from her Calling and you couldn’t bloody stand it,” Giles accused.
 
“My dear Giles … as usual, you couldn’t be more wrong,” Travers retorted, jumping down from the headstone.
 
“Couldn’t I? Then why did you make it your life’s ambition to tear her down, destroy her family, destroy her?” Giles questioned.

 

“I never intended to destroy her, Rupert, only ready her for the coming battle … something that you were unable or unwilling to do. The prophecies don’t lie … ‘To reap the harvest they have sown, she who brings forth The Tetrad from her loins must stand alone against the End of Days with neither friend nor foe nor kith nor kin betwixt her heart and the gaping maw of hell,’ Travers quoted. “One day, you may understand, my old friend – that is if you live that long. I find myself feeling a bit peckish …” Travers explained with a rueful grin before morphing into a golden-eyed demon with razor-sharp fangs.
 
As Quentin lunged at Giles, the self-reinstated Watcher dropped a stake he had hidden in his shirt sleeve into his hand and raised it in one deft move, embedding it into the fledge’s chest and penetrating his heart. “Goodbye, Quentin,” Giles murmured as Travers’ eyes momentarily went wide with surprise before he disintegrated into dust.
 
Giles sighed heavily, removing his glasses and rubbing the bridge of his nose to stem the headache he felt coming on. He’d accused Travers of resting on his laurels, or more aptly, the laurels of the Council, and he’d meant it. Buffy and Faith were right, it was time to stop living in the past; it was time for the Council to get in the trenches with the Slayers. Regardless of the logistics, it was time to get up off the laurels of the past and start helping the Slayers of today.
 
Giles slipped his glasses back on and dropped the stake into his coat pocket as he turned and began wandering down the dark footpath further into the park-like cemetery. His mind raced with a thousand things that would need to be done, but one kept popping back to the top of his list … find out more about these prophecies that Travers had put so much belief in.
 
**~**
 
Buffy, Spike, and Bess stood in front of the three story house on Macaulay Road, just down from Clapham Common and seemed to let out a collective, disappointed sigh. It had changed … in fact, Spike wasn’t entirely sure exactly which house was ‘his’ anymore, it had changed so much. Buffy was sure it was the one they were standing in front of, but as she looked up and down the street, even she started to doubt her own memory, which was admittedly brief, but more recent than Spike’s, of just which house it was. They all seemed to look alike now.
 
“Sorry, pet,” Spike apologized to Bess. “I suppose what they say is true – you can’t go ‘ome again.”
 
Bess wasn’t sure if she’d even remember the house, but wanted to see it, nonetheless. To say she was disappointed that it had all changed so much was an understatement. “It’s ok,” she assured him.
 
“How ‘bout a walk in the Common, then?” Spike suggested. “Hard to make grass and trees look too bloody different …”

 

The trio turned down the walk and headed south for the park, all disappointed in their own way that the Weckerly house had changed so drastically. After walking a little ways into the Common, Buffy’s eyes went wide. “The bandstand!” she exclaimed, as she took off running towards the familiar pavilion near the center of the green area.
 
Spike’s stomach was still too precarious to run, so he and Bess followed her, keeping their leisurely pace down the footpath. When they reached the bandstand, Buffy was sitting on the top step, running her fingers over some cracks in the stone floor, seemingly mesmerized.
 
“What is it, luv?” Spike asked, looking down at the broken stone.

 

Buffy looked up at him with wide eyes. “The cracks … here – I did this. I did this that night – after …” she explained, still running her fingers over the fissures in the floor. It seemed so long ago now – had it only been three and a half months? Buffy touched the small bulge in her abdomen, fifteen weeks pregnant … twenty three more to go.
 
“Cheap buggers couldn’t even fix the floor in a bloody century …” Spike complained with a smirk making Buffy laugh lightly. She remembered what Annie had told her about how neat it would be to stand in the very spot one of your ancestors had stood and Buffy got chill bumps. She was sitting in the exact spot she had sat that night, heartbroken and guilt-ridden for hurting William so badly … not realizing that was what she had to do to save her family.
 
Buffy looked up at Bess and she slid further into the band stand, leaning her back against the low, metal latticework around the edge. “Come sit,” she invited the girl, patting the floor next to her. “We need to talk.”
 
Bess sat down next to Buffy and Spike sat on the stairs next to her, facing out.
 
“Do you remember the day I came to your house when you were a little girl?” Buffy questioned.
 
Bess nodded slowly. “A little bit. You shared the sweet breads with Anne and I … you were sad because you were far from home.”
 
“That’s right …” Buffy agreed, before taking a deep breath and diving head-first into a tale of magic and revenge and stolen lives and lost years. Bess listened with rapt attention, questioning Spike from time to time about the woman she considered her ‘real’ mother … Cecily. Leaving out the part about just exactly how she’d driven William into Dru’s clutches, Buffy explained that to set things right, to get their family back, that was what had to happen and that was why neither she nor Spike could stay with Bess, Anne, and William. Spike was a vampire and Buffy was from a different time – from this time they were in now.
 
“We didn’t leave you because we didn’t love you,” Buffy concluded. “We simply didn’t have any choice. Bess, if we could’ve changed it, we would have. If I could’ve stayed, I would have. We loved all of you … you and Anne and William, you children were your father’s pride and joy and it broke both our hearts to have to leave.
 
“Neither of us knew you were a Slayer – not until recently, and we didn’t know about the dungeon until we met you in Billy’s dreams…” Buffy assured her. “We’re both so sorry that you had to go through what you did.”
 
Bess sat with her arms crossed over her chest and her head bowed, looking down at her lap as she digested the story that Buffy had laid out for her.
 
“So, I’m Billy’s twin sister – like Dani?” she questioned after a few moments.
 
“Yeah, I guess so … and Dani’s twin, too – just, you know, the older … much older, twin,” Buffy agreed.

 

“Buttercup, there’s nothing we could’ve done to stop you from becomin’ a Slayer … it’s in your blood,” Spike told her softly. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there to help you, but I’m ‘ere now – we’re both ‘ere now, and we’d do anything in the world for you. We love you, Elizabeth Anne.”
 
“I understand…” Bess acknowledged with a shrug, still looking down. Buffy met Spike’s eyes over the top of Bess’ head and sighed … would Bess ever really believe that they loved her? Would she ever be able to love and truly trust anyone again?
 
Buffy wrapped an arm around Bess and pulled the girl against her before dropping a kiss into their daughter’s soft, blonde curls. It was going to be a long road back for all of them, but maybe now that Bess understood what really happened, that Buffy and Spike hadn’t left because they wanted to or because they didn’t love her and the other children, but because they had no choice, Bess could find it within herself to let the walls down a little more and let them help her navigate that long road.
 
**~**
 
Over the next few days, as Wes and Giles worked on the logistics of moving the Council and all its important documents to Sunnydale, Buffy, Faith, Spike, and Bess worked on interviewing and testing applicants for the leaders of the Armageddon army … or apocalypse team … or whatever they were going to call it.
 
“We really need a cool acronym for it – or at least a better name,” Faith complained on the second day. “I’d hate to have to tell Willy I needed a night off to go to an ‘AA’ meeting…”
 
“The A-Team?” Buffy suggested.
 
Faith rolled her eyes. “I think that’s taken …”
 
“The ‘Bugger all Demons in the Ass’ team?” Spike suggested. “B.A.D.ASS for short…”
 
“What happened to the “I” and ‘T’ between ‘demons’ and ‘ass’?” Faith questioned.
 
“Poetic license…” Spike smirked.
 
“How about the Annual Apocalypse Aversion Contingent, Harboring Hemophiles, Ordinary Outlaws, & Outcasts …” Buffy tried brightly. “AAA-CHHOOO for short. Then, when you ask for the night off, Willy will think you’re sick.”
 
Faith sighed and rolled her eyes. “Never mind.”
 
**~**
 
(Three days later) Sunday, May 1st, 2010, 3:30pm, London:
 
Buffy, Faith, Spike, and Bess were down to the last group of Slayers and Watchers to interview and test for the leadership roles on the A-team, as Buffy called it, because she’d gotten tired of saying ‘apocalypse’, despite Faith’s objections. They were choosing more than they figured they’d actually need and would narrow the field down further after going through the same procedure with Slayers and Watchers in North America and the rest of the world – after they got back to Sunnydale.
 
Any Slayer or Watcher could be dismissed from the ‘competition’ by any of the four members of the selection committee. They had the Slayers spar with Bess to test their fighting skills, which served two purposes – it tested the applicants, but also gave Bess a chance to sharpen her own somewhat rusty techniques. During the whole process, Bess had only dismissed one Slayer, telling Spike ‘she hits like a girl’, while the rest of the team had tossed a dozen or more each, mostly on nothing more than gut feel; they didn’t really have time (nor patience) to delve much deeper.
 
Spike watched Bess after she finished sparring with the latest applicant; a perky girl with pink streaks in the bleach-blonde hair on the top of her head which hung straight down in a pageboy cut, barely covering short, midnight-black hair below. She had a quick smile, and large, bright, aqua-blue eyes, glittery blue polish on her nails, and pretty wicked right hook. Spike walked over to his daughter in the corner of the training room as she put the two long, wooden staffs they had been using in the sparring test back in their place in the weapon's cabinet.

“Didn’t like her, then?” he asked, reading her body language.
 
Bess shrugged, her back to him. “She’s fine, she fights well enough.”
 
“Not what I asked…” Spike pointed out. “You don’t like ‘er.”
 
“She’s fine,” Bess insisted.
 
Spike took her by the shoulders and turned her around to face him so she had to look in his eyes. “That’s your head talkin’, what does this say?” he prodded further, pushing his fist lightly against her stomach. “What does your gut say?”
 
Bess rolled her eyes up to the ceiling to break the hold his eyes had on hers and sighed heavily. “I don’t know what you mean. My stomach tells me when I’m hungry … when I’m full …”

 

“Bollocks! You bloody well do know what I mean,” Spike insisted. “Look at me.”
 
Bess rolled her eyes around another moment before grudgingly meeting his again.
 
“You have to learn to listen to your gut, listen to your heart … follow your instincts. You do it when you’re fightin’ … I’ve seen it,” Spike preached. “One day, it may be the only thing that’ll keep you alive – don’t ignore it or it’ll stop talkin’ to you.”
 
“I’m already not alive…” Bess reminded him.
 
“Don’t sass … you know what I bloody well mean,” Spike reprimanded her. “Now, what does your gut say about Pinky?” Spike asked again, tilting his head towards the happy Slayer who was now talking animatedly with her Watcher about how good Bess was at Bōjutsu and, for being such a cute girl, she was awfully strong... she’d never seen anyone twirl a Bō quite so fast or strike with so much power.
 
Bess sighed heavily and closed her eyes. “She’s too … cheerful – look at her! She lost and she’s … chipper! And her eyes are too blue … and her hair is … pink and black and her fingernails sparkle. I hate her,” Bess admitted.
 
Spike smirked and nodded. “I know, I detest a bubbly Slayer, m’self … now, she’d be a bloody brilliant Dallas Cowboy cheerleader. Missed her true Callin’, I’d say. Lucky your mum’s so bloody surly… mighta never married her otherwise.”
 
Bess opened her eyes and looked at him and a small smile replaced the grim frown she’d had. “Buffy’s not surly…” Bess defended.
 
“Ha! You haven’t known her long enough – been on her best behavior, she has. You think splashin’ water on a hotel floor is bad … just wait ‘til you leave a wet towel on her floor – you’ll see.”
 
**~**
 
(Later that day), 6:30pm, London:
 
“B! Can I talk to you a minute?”  Faith called down the hall when she saw Buffy emerge from the training room.
 
“Sure…” Buffy agreed, changing directions and heading towards Faith.
 
Faith stepped into a small office on the other side of the hall and invited Buffy in before closing the door.
 
“What’s up?” Buffy asked as she leaned on the edge of the heavy desk in the center of the room.
 
“Had something I been wanting to talk to you about … I’m just not sure how to start,” Faith began.
 
Buffy raised her brows. Faith wasn’t sure how to talk about something? Faith was second only to Anya in letting her true feelings be known to the entire world – this sounded ominous.
 
“Well, just say the first thing that comes to mind and we can go from there…” Buffy advised.
 
“Ok … here goes. You love Spike, right?” Faith questioned, pacing back and forth in front of Buffy.
 
Buffy frowned and looked at her with a little suspicion. Was she after Spike now? “Yeah…” Buffy answered slowly.
 
“How do you know?” Faith continued as she stopped and looked at her friend.
 
“How do I know? Ummmm … well, you just sort of know, ya know?” Buffy answered vaguely.

 

“But how do you know?” Faith pressed. “How did you know when you first realized you loved him? How did you know it was really love? How did you know he was the one for you? How did you know he wouldn’t, you know, bolt on you or break your heart?”
 
“Well … I didn’t know he wouldn’t break my heart, and actually, he did bolt on me for a while,” Buffy reminded her. “What is this about, Faith?”
 
Faith sighed and started pacing again, but didn’t answer.
 
“Are you in love with someone?” Buffy guessed.
 
“No … that’s just the thing. I’m not in love … I’m not even in ‘like’ … hell, I’m not even in lust with anyone,” Faith moaned. She hated opening herself up like this, letting her bravado down, letting her true feelings show, even to someone she considered a friend.
 
“Faith, I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what this is about,” Buffy prodded.
 
Faith sighed deeply and turned back to face Buffy. “The other day … I … well, I really thought I was a goner there for a minute and … well, it occurred to me that I’ve never really been in love, not true love – I’ve never had what you and Spike have and … I think I’d like to have that before I die.”

 

“Oh, Faith …” Buffy sighed, knowing how hard it was for Faith to not only admit that to herself, but say it out loud.
 
“I don’t know if it’s the same for everyone,” Buffy began to try and explain. “But for me it was … it was kinda strange I guess. I thought Spike had turned evil, like Angel, ya’ know? We’d only been together a really short time, and I wasn’t looking for love by any means, but … I don’t know, I guess I was just vulnerable and he … he was so … sweet to me and didn’t ask for anything in return – he just helped me. And then he was so … well, you know Spike, pretty hot … and there was this romantic Renaissance Man all bundled up in this burning wickedness and it just drew me in. It didn’t matter that I didn’t want to feel anything for him, your heart doesn’t care about logic or making sense, it just does what it wants.
 
“I first realized that I might love him when I woke up and he was gone … and my mind flashed back to Angel and Angelus and I thought Spike had turned back into … Spike,. I was so afraid, I was so … heartbroken, then I was so angry with myself for even letting him worm his way under my skin – I didn’t want to feel anything, least of all heartbroken. I just had a thousand emotions running through me and all I could think was that I was gonna have to kill the second man I’d ever loved,” Buffy continued as she thought back to that night so many years ago when Spike had left her sleeping and gone out to get her pizza and Cokes … she nearly staked him, she’d come so close, so very close.

 

“Faith, I didn’t consciously stand there and say to myself, ‘I love him. He’s the one for me!’” Buffy continued. “Love just kinda sneaks up on you … you find yourself thinking about someone all the time, you find yourself wondering, ‘What would Spike think …’ or ‘I bet Spike would like that…’, you find yourself putting the other person’s needs above your own, even putting the other person’s life above your own, and you just suddenly realize you love them and the words just come out of your mouth of their own volition.”
 
“And it feels good, right?” Faith asked.
 
Buffy laughed lightly. “When it’s good, it’s the best … when it’s bad, it’s the worst. You make yourself vulnerable when you give your heart to another person and, being human, we make mistakes – we hurt each other without even meaning to sometimes. But I wouldn’t trade any of it for a life without his love … every heartache we’ve caused each other has been worth it. I’d do it all over again, because the highs are so high, they make you forget about the lows except to vow to not make the same mistakes again.”
 
Faith nodded thoughtfully. “That’s pretty much what I thought…”
 
“Faith, to reach the highs, you have to risk the lows … you may even have to scrape your heart up off the floor once or twice before you find the one that will treasure it and protect it with his life. But you’ll never find that man if you keep it hidden behind those ‘tough girl’ walls you’ve got up … you have to step into the fire. When everything’s just right, that fire will melt your souls together and fill that empty place inside your heart; it’ll make you feel complete … but it’ll never happen standing on the outside looking in,” Buffy advised.
 
**~**
 
(Later that night), 10:30pm, London:
 
“But why won’t you tell me where we’re going?” Bess asked for the fifth time in as many minutes as she, Buffy, and Spike climbed into the Black Cab outside the hotel.

 

“Because it’s a surprise … by definition, surprises require an element of actual surprise, otherwise it would be called an ‘expected’,” Buffy explained – again.
 
Bess sighed and sat back in her seat, eyeing her backpack that Buffy had borrowed earlier … it seemed to be stuffed full of something. Buffy handed the driver a piece of paper with the address on it and tucked the backpack between her legs and the door of the cab, away from Bess.
 
“I’m not sure I like surprises,” Bess complained as she looked out the window as the cab zipped helter-skelter down a fairly busy street, dodging in and out of traffic at breakneck speed. She did like riding in cars though; she’d even gotten Spike to promise to teach her how to drive when they got back to California.
 
Bess had talked to Annie, Dani, and Billy on the phone a few times since the downfall of the Council, and she was both excited and afraid of meeting them. Of course, she knew Billy from the dreams, but the girls were an unknown for her. Would they accept her into their family? Would they like her? Would she like them? Could they actually be friends? Bess hadn’t had an actual friend in … well, too long to remember - she wasn't sure she knew how to have a friend anymore.
 
Buffy and Spike had tried to talk to Bess about what she’d like to do now that she was back in the real world. They suggested that she go back to school and get her high school diploma … or GED they called it, while she figured out what she would like to do. Bess had agreed, but the thought of that also frightened her. She’d never been the best at school work, and, until recently, she hadn’t even seen a book in over a century. She was slightly relieved when she looked through some of the newspapers and magazines that Buffy had given her and found that she did still remember how to read, at least – even if she didn’t fully understand what the articles were talking about. There was so much to learn, new terminology – stuff about computers and telephones and televisions and the internet and hula hoops and Velcro, and everything seemed to have an acronym. There were MP3s and DVDs and VCRs and LEDs and ATMs and BLTs … not to mention ASAPs and TGIFs and LOLs …
 
Bess felt like she might’ve actually been transported to a completely different world at times. When she tried to talk to some of the other Slayers, she wondered if they were actually speaking English or some foreign language, which she knew at least one girl was … someone told her not to worry about it, it was ‘Klingon’ – Bess wasn’t sure where ‘Kling’ even was…
 
And Buffy and Spike want her to go to high school … Bess snorted a soft laugh to herself and rolled her eyes as she watched the world go by out the window of the cab … or, obviously, only a very small part of the world. Bess tried to think back to when she was just a regular girl … she tried to remember what her dreams were, what did she want to be when she grew up? She couldn’t remember anymore.
 
“’ere ya go,” the cabbie announced, pulling over the curb as he reached back and opened the door for his passengers. “Bushy Park.”
 
Spike pulled out several ten pound notes and paid the driver as they got out of the cab. Bess reached for the backpack, as if to help Buffy with it, but Buffy pulled it away before the girl could get a hand on it. “Gotta be quicker than that…” Buffy teased, shifting the pack to her other hand, further away from Bess, and waited for Spike.

 

“Which way?” Buffy asked, looking at her husband. Spike pointed to their right and the trio started walking down the empty side street. After just a short ways, they came to a tall chain-link fence; Buffy turned off the road and followed the fence into the park until they were shielded from the street by trees and shrubbery. She looked around … certain that there was no one out in this area of the park at this hour, she heaved the backpack over the fence and started climbing over after it.
 
“C’mon,” she called to Bess who was just standing there looking at her with confusion. “Your surprise is in here.”
 
Bess looked from Buffy, who had nearly made it over the fence, back to Spike, who raised his brows and tilted towards the top of the fence. “Go on then… be right behind ya.”
 
Bess frowned but started climbing over the tall fence. “I hope my surprise isn’t a big, angry bear … I don’t like bears,” she informed them, as the tall fence reminded her of a trip to the zoo when she was young. A big bear had charged at the fence near where she and her family were standing, growling and barring its huge teeth at them and scaring them all. “And I’m pretty sure I don’t like surprises,” Bess repeated as she dropped down on the other side of the enclosure next to Buffy and looked around pensively.
 
Spike winced slightly as he swung his legs over the top of the fence. His stomach wound was no longer gaping and his muscles were mending back together, but it still hurt if he strained it in unusual ways … like climbing over six-foot high chain link fences. They’d decided to leave the steel ‘stitches’ in place until just before they headed back to Sunnydale, which was looking like it would be shortly – probably Tuesday or Wednesday. Spike and Buffy were anxious to get back to their kids and they also wanted to get a full obstetrical checkup for Buffy soon, since she hadn’t had one yet, and she needed to see a dentist about her missing molar. Giles and Wes would probably have to stay longer to coordinate the move of the headquarters, but the Slayers had finished the interviews for the apocalypse leadership team here and they needed to start the same process back in America as soon as possible.
 
Spike dropped down on the other side lightly, bending forward and holding his stomach more out of habit now than necessity.
 
“You all right?” Buffy asked, eyeing his hand as it pressed against his abdomen.
 
“No worries…” Spike assured her as he stood up straight. “Now … where is that bloody bear?” Spike quipped as he looked around the area.

 

Bess’ eyes went wide and she whirled around to look at him with panic rising in her throat. When she saw the smirk on his face, she blew out a breath and rolled her eyes. She wasn’t sure if she’d ever get used to his twisted sense of humor.
 
“C’mon,” Buffy called as she started to walk away. “This way.”
 
The group crossed an empty parking lot, then came around the corner of a long building, and Bess’ eyes went wide with awe. “It’s a giant … bathtub!” she exclaimed, moving forward quickly towards the large, heated outdoor swimming pool.

 

Bess was just about to jump in, clothes, shoes, and all when Buffy caught her by the back of her belt and pulled her back. “Hold on there, Little Mermaid …” Buffy told her, swinging Bess around, away from the glimmering, moonlit pool.
 
Buffy let Bess go and began digging through the backpack, pulling out towels and bathing suits, finally finding the one she’d bought for Bess at the market that first day and handing it to her. “Change into this first – in there,” Buffy instructed, pointing towards the colorful doors of the changing rooms off to the side of the pool.
 
Bess grabbed the suit and bounded off, as Buffy had instructed, to change. Buffy handed Spike his trunks and looked at him doubtfully. “You sure you want to do this?” she questioned, looking at his stomach as he shed his t-shirt. “You don’t think those stitches will rust in there, do you?”
 
“The ‘Man of Steel’ doesn’t bloody rust,” Spike assured her with a smirk as he headed for one of the changing rooms himself.
 
Buffy sighed and followed him with her suit, hoping that he knew what he was doing. The wound had healed over, so theoretically, at least, it should be ok for him to get it wet. He had been taking showers, but that was a bit different than soaking in a chlorinated pool – but he had really wanted to do this with them, to have a little fun time with his Slayers before they headed back home.
 
Buffy heard a squeal of laughter and a huge splash before she could even get her clothes off and she smiled to herself – glad they could find something that Bess would really enjoy. Bess rarely complained about anything they did, but she didn’t really seem overly enthusiastic about much, either. Apart from trying different foods, including every type of chocolate they could find, and riding in cars or on the Underground, nothing else seemed to really excite her very much, even shoe shopping. Buffy supposed that everything was just a little bit overwhelming, even frightening, for her. Bess didn’t show fear, but that was to be expected, too – after all, how long had she suppressed feelings like that, just to survive?
 
Buffy came out of the changing room and walked up behind Spike who was standing a few feet away from pool watching Bess in the soft light of the moon. She was lapping the length of the large pool underwater … once, twice, three times … Buffy wondered if she dropped gummy-worms in the water in front of her, if she’d snap them up like a fish.
 
“There’s no way I’m ever gonna win at Marco-Polo with the two of you…” Buffy observed with a laugh as she wrapped an arm around Spike’s waist and leaned against his side as they continued to watch Bess swim like a dolphin, with graceful elegance and power.
 
Bess finally surfaced and splashed water high into the air with child-like glee. “This is the best surprise ever!” she called to them as she jumped and twirled around, sending water flying in all directions.
 
“We better go in if we’re goin’,” Spike told Buffy. “Before she has it splashed drier than the bloody Sahara.”
 
Buffy smiled slyly. “Butch and Sundance?” she suggested.
 
Spike waggled his brows and smirked as he grabbed her hand and they started running towards the balmy water. “Cannonball!!” they both yelled as they launched themselves into the air. Bess squealed in delight when they landed on either side of her, sending tidal waves of warm, clear water washing and splashing over her head. Maybe she did like surprises, after all.

 


**~**
 
{{Click here to hear "Standing Outside the Fire” by Garth Brooks on YouTube }}




We call them cool
Those hearts that have no scars to show
The ones that never do let go
And risk the tables being turned

We call them fools
Who have to dance within the flame
Who chance the sorrow and the shame
That always comes with getting burned

But you've got to be tough when consumed by desire
'Cause it's not enough just to stand outside the fire

We call them strong
Those who can face this world alone
Who seem to get by on their own
Those who will never take the fall

We call them weak
Who are unable to resist
The slightest chance love might exist
And for that forsake it all

They're so hell-bent on giving ,walking a wire
Convinced it's not living if you stand outside the fire

Standing outside the fire
Standing outside the fire
Life is not tried, it is merely survived
If you're standing outside the fire

There's this love that is burning
Deep in my soul
Constantly yearning to get out of control
Wanting to fly higher and higher
I can't abide
Standing outside the fire

Standing outside the fire
Standing outside the fire
Life is not tried, it is merely survived
If you're standing outside the fire

Standing outside the fire
Standing outside the fire
Life is not tried, it is merely survived
If you're standing outside the fire



End Notes:
TBC ... they still have a bit of time left in London, then it will be back to SunnyD for them ... Will have more soon. And what of all these prophecies? Giles will be looking into those more later, too.
The Birds and the Bees by Passion4Spike
Author's Notes:
Uht-oh! Someone left Annie alone with Anya ...
**~**
Music Referenced:
The Birds and the Bees, Dean Martin: http://youtu.be/8yn8gRivGnM
 **
ScreenCaps courtesy of ScreenCap Paradise:
http://www.screencap-paradise.com/?cat=3
**
Thanks to 'epd4' for betaing this chapter and extra special thanks to BuffyRat who requested to be a 'fly on the wall' for this and finally, thanks to my Evil Twin, PaganBaby for all her wonderful suggestions and encouragement!
Meanwhile ... back in Sunnydale,
(Same Day), Sunday, May 1st, 2010, 4:30pm:


Annie sat at the computer in the back room of the Magic Box and Googled “Red Riding Hood Game” … but got nothing that sounded like the game her parents played. Then she Googled “Where do babies come from” but nearly every site she clicked on was blocked … It totally sucked having an aunt that was a computer genius and knew how to ‘kid-proof’ computers and didn’t use a password that was someone’s birthday... Annie had tried them all.

The few sites that did come up didn’t give any real information about exactly how the baby gets in the mom’s tummy. She sighed and looked out the open door into the shop, Aunt Anya was just finishing up with a customer; there was no one else here. Her parents and Uncle Giles were still in London and Uncle Xander had taken JJ, Dani, and Billy to the movies ‘to get them out of Aunt Anya’s hair’.

When that customer left, Annie got up from the computer and went out into the shop and leaned against the counter in front of the cash register where Anya was standing, straightening the money in the drawer.




“Aunt Anya? Can I ask you a question?” the girl ventured.

“Because they look nicer when they’re all facing the same way,” Anya answered, showing her the stack of dollar bills all straight and facing the same direction.

Annie furrowed her brow and shook her head. “Huh?”

“You were going to ask me why I straighten the money …” Anya explained, putting the bills back in the change drawer. “Everyone always asks me that … I don’t know why it’s so hard to figure out.”

“No … that’s not it,” Annie clarified. “I wanted to ask you if you knew where babies come from.”

Anya looked up from the stack of five dollar bills she’d started straightening. “Of course I do.”

When Anya went back to her task without further elaboration, Annie ventured, “Where?”

Anya looked back up and snorted a derisive ‘humph’. “Well, it’s not from the cabbage patch or the stork or Santa Claus … and they don’t get beamed down from the Starship Enterprise like Tribbles – God, that would be too easy! Noooo … women have to carry them around for nine months like a sack of potatoes strapped to their stomachs then they have to take said sack of potatoes and push it out through their vagina … which, by the way, is typically NOT the size of a sack of potatoes. Then, in the hospital, everyone in the world from the doctor to the janitor looks at your vagina like it was a boil on your forehead and they were waiting for it to burst. I can tell you one thing, if men had to birth children, the population of the earth would dwindle rapidly.”


Annie furrowed her brow and sighed as she tried to figure out what in the world Anya was talking about … vaginas and boils and potatoes and Tribbles? What are Tribbles? Where is this vagina everyone’s looking at?

“But how does the baby get in the mom’s tummy?” Annie prodded, giving up on figuring out Anya’s tirade.

“Oh, well, that’s easy. From sex. That’s the only part the man actually must participate in … then it’s up to us to do all the work. I’m telling you, the God in this dimension is a man, there’s no doubt about it… if God was a woman, there’s no way she would’ve set things up for them to get off with five minutes of intercourse and make us pay for it for nine months.  It’s completely unfair. In the Tiresias dimension, every seven years the Tiresians change gender … that’s really much more reasonable,” Anya concluded, going back to straightening her money.

Annie tried to digest what Anya was talking about, finally asking, “Is sex the same as smoochies?”

“Oh, no,” Anya replied matter-of-factly. “Kissing is just the start of it, there’s a lot more to it than just kissing.”

“Like what?”

Anya put the five dollar bills back in the till and picked up the tens and started straightening them. “You see, men and women have these wonderful interlocking bodies,” Anya started, but was cut short by the ‘ding-ding’ of the front door opening and a customer coming into the shop.

“Like LEGOS?” Annie asked quickly, as Anya put the money back in the till and shut it.

Anya thought a moment then nodded. “I think that’s where they got the idea for LEGOS,” she agreed as she came out from behind the counter and started towards the customer.

Annie went back in the training/play room at the back of the shop and dug in the toy box, pulling out some of Billy and Dani’s LEGOS … then she pulled out Barbie and Ken …




Annie undressed the dolls and examined them closely, looking for any hint of where the LEGO bits were; she’d never seen any LEGO bits on them before, but maybe she didn’t know what to look for. Annie frowned and shook her head, still not finding anything that interlocked. But, where was Ken’s willy as her father called it, or ‘wee-wee’ as her mother had called it, when Annie asked the first time she saw Billy when he was a baby? Surely all boys had them, not just the ones in her family … of course, she did have a rather strange family, so maybe she shouldn't take that for granted.

When the customer left, Anya came into the back room to make a money drop into the safe. Annie walked over to her and waited for her to finish before starting her interrogation again.

“Where are the LEGO parts?” she asked, holding up Ken and Barbie.

Anya rolled her eyes and took the dolls from Annie’s hands. “Mattel gave Barbie everything … great body, stunning hair, expensive houses and cars, beautiful designer clothes and shoes, horses, and all that gorgeous plastic furniture … But she had to lose somewhere, so she got a gorgeous, if slightly gay looking, penis-less man for a boyfriend – I guess she can’t have everything!”

“So all boys have ‘wee-wees’,” Annie surmised.

“Oh, yes. But don’t call them ‘wee-wees’ … men don’t like their penises called ‘wee’ … even if they are,” Anya admonished her. “They can say size doesn’t matter all they want, but don’t let anyone fool you … that’s one of those human idioms that I’ve never understood, like ‘it doesn’t matter if you win or lose, it’s how you play the game.’ Of course winning matters! Of course size matters! I’m very lucky that Xander’s been blessed with a penis that’s twenty-five percent larger than the average human male.

“Of course stamina is also important … it doesn’t help to have a large penis if he can’t pleasure you with it for more than a couple of minutes… and technique … but technique can be taught,” Anya advised. “Believe me … Xander had a lot to learn about technique when we first copulated … but he was a fast learner … it helps when the man is a fast learner.”

“Soooo…” Annie ventured. “How exactly do you have sex? What do you do?”

“Well, there are lots of different ways … the most basic is face to face, missionary position…” Anya explained, taking the dolls and demonstrating for Annie. “This way is the most intimate … eye to eye, you can kiss and he can use his pubic bone to stimulate your clitoris while his penis pleasures your vagina and g-spot. Although, there are better positions for hitting the g-spot, actually…”



Annie’s eyes went wide. “And the boy ... he puts his wee … his penis in the girl’s …”

“Vagina.”

“From where you pee?”

“No … your vagina isn’t the same as your urethra … it’s the larger of the two orifices in your pubic area - but, believe me, it's not as large as a sack of potatoes. You pee from your urethra; you have sex with your vagina. It’s between the urethra and your anus,” Anya explained.

“And … what is the cli.. cli …”

“Clitoris,” Anya provided. “That’s the little nub right above the urethra … it’s full of glorious nerve endings which produce powerful orgasms in a woman when stimulated properly.”

“What do orgasms do?” Annie questioned.

“Oh, well … they produce hormones in your brain, oxytocin and prolactin, which give you a feeling of euphoria … then they put you to sleep,” Anya explained with a confident nod.

 “Oh … like eating turkey on Thanksgiving?” Annie wondered.

“Well, the chemicals are very similar, but I’d take the sex-induced sleep over the turkey one – I’ve never had a turkey make me euphoric,” Anya confessed. “Although, maybe if I were a female turkey, I’d feel differently.”

“Oh … And …ummm… a penis is how big?” Annie wondered.

“Well, the average human adult male’s penis, when engorged with blood and fully erect, is about six inches long and about an inch and a half in diameter,” Anya provided, using her hands to demonstrate the size. “Some are larger, like my Xander’s, but some are smaller.”

Annie’s eyes went wide; Billy’s wasn’t anywhere near that big! That sounded ... painful. “Does sex hurt?”

“Not normally, but it can. It just depends on the preferences of the people having it,” Anya offered with a shrug.

Annie’s brow furrowed. Why would anyone do that? That might explain all the screaming and growling that she’d heard off and on over the years coming from her parents …

“And that’s how you make babies?” Annie pondered, looking at the copulating dolls.

“Yes … when the man is sufficiently stimulated through sexual intercourse, he will experience an autonomic physiologic response - which means, basically, his penis and testicles take control away from his brain – which, honestly, is pretty much a human male's state ninety-nine percent of the time. But, during sex, he will expel sperm from his testes, through his penis and into the vagina; that’s called ejaculation and orgasm. For women, the vagina and cervix spasm with her orgasm, caused by stimulation of her clitoris and g-spot, and that helps pull the sperm into the uterus … so, it’s best if both partners orgasm together for maximum chance at pregnancy … but, unfortunately, it’s not necessary.”

“Then what?” Annie prodded.

“Well … while your brain is soaking up all the euphoric hormones your orgasms produced and getting ready to go to sleep, the little sperm are fighting for their lives. The sperm have little tails on them … like tadpoles, and they swim upstream through the woman’s cervix and uterus and into the fallopian tubes to find and fertilize the egg, which travels down those tubes when she ovulates each month. It only takes one sperm to fertilize an egg … but, as usual, men go overboard and send thousands of the little swimmers on the journey … and, like men, most of them get lost.

“Only the strongest swimmers actually make it to the egg … Just the Mark Spitzes and Michael Phelps’ of the sperm world have any chance of actually reaching the egg to fertilize it… the rest just run downhill and make a sticky, gooey, wet spot on the sheets … so it’s best to have sex on his side of the bed,” Anya advised.



Annie made a face as an image of tadpoles flopping all around inside her and sliming up her sheets flashed in her mind. “How do they know where to go?” she wondered.

Anya shrugged. “Biological GPS created by countless millennia of evolution …

“Of course, some positions are more conducive to creating life … they give the little swimmers a hand, make it easier for them to reach the target…” Anya explained. “Missionary is good, but cowgirl or anything with the woman on top or standing makes it harder for them – but not impossible. Don’t think you can be on top and be safe from getting pregnant – that’s just an old wife’s tale that some males try to perpetuate because they’re out of condoms.”


Annie’s eyes went wide again. “How many positions are there?”

“Oh …” Anya shrugged. “…hundreds. See?” Anya asked, reaching into her purse and pulling out a well worn book, ‘Position of the Day’ it said in big black letters, ‘Sex everyday in every way’ it espoused underneath the title.

Annie took the book from her hand and began flipping through it. It was full of line drawings of couples in various positions … three hundred and sixty five various positions, to be exact.


Annie stopped on one called ‘The Table Dance’.

 

“Oh … that one’s virtually impossible,” Anya moaned, rolling her eyes. “Xander just collapsed like a house of cards, it was quite disappointing. He squealed like a school girl and his penis became flaccid when he hit the floor and I landed on top of him. His testicles were sore and swollen for a week. There are a lot of challenging positions in there, but that’s the first one we tried that actually caused bodily injury to my favorite part of Xander’s body.

“I bet Spike could do that one. Your father’s quite well muscled and flexible … and with that vampire strength and stamina … yeah, I bet he and Buffy could do that.”

Annie slammed the book closed and handed it back to Anya, not sure that she wanted to imagine her parents doing that.

“Oh … sorry. I understand that it’s uncomfortable for children in this society to think about their parents having sex … but you wouldn’t be here if they didn’t,” Anya explained, putting the book back in her purse, which was sitting on a table next to the drop-safe. “I don’t know why so many humans are so touchy about the subject … honestly, it’s been done going all the way back to when all life was just a slurry of amoebas.”

“Amoebas have sex?” Annie questioned.




Anya rolled her eyes. “Well, I don’t actually know … but I can tell you all mammals have sex … and that includes your parents.”

Their conversation was interrupted by the bell on the front door ringing and Dani, Billy, and JJ running in from the street, wired on movie candy and syrupy sodas. Annie picked up the copulating Ken and Barbie dolls and tossed them back into the toy box just before the younger children made it to the back. They must’ve seen some kind of kung-fu movie, because they were all kicking and Karate-chopping each other and yelling ‘HI-YA!’ as they ran.

Annie watched as Anya met Xander out on the floor of the shop and began chastising him for bringing them back all hyped up … then she looked at her siblings and cousin – they were tumbling around on the mats, still acting out the movie and not paying any attention to her. Annie slowly walked over to Anya’s purse and pulled the book back out, keeping it behind her back out of view from the wrestling children, she silently slid it into her own backpack for closer inspection later …
 
**~**

Later that night, while Anya was getting JJ and Billy their baths … which she’d started giving them together to keep from running out of hot water, and Dani was downstairs watching TV, Annie closed the door to the spare bedroom she and Dani shared and pulled the book out of her bag. Despite not wanting to think about her parents having sex, her curiosity about what exactly they were doing got the better of her, and she began scanning the book for the ‘Red Riding Hood’ position…

Annie got all the way through, scanning quickly, but couldn’t find anything called that. She sighed and put the book back in her backpack and headed downstairs. Dani was watching ‘The Powerpuff Girls’ on TV, which Annie didn’t particularly care for, so she went into the kitchen where Uncle Xander was making an after dinner snack.

Annie sat down on one of the stools at the island and watched him make a sandwich from leftover meatloaf.

“Want some?” he offered, pointing at the meatloaf.

“No, thanks,” Annie replied.

“Drink?” he offered.

“No …”

“What’s up, Doodlebug?” Xander asked, as he leaned over the sink to eat his creation so as to not dirty any dishes and thus avoid Anya's wrath, facing away from Annie.

“I was wondering … do you know what the Red Riding Hood game is?” Annie questioned.

“Uhhhh … no, I don’t think so … Oh! Wait! Is it a new reality TV show … like the Amazing Race … ‘over the river and through the woods’ or something?” Xander questioned, before taking another bite.

“No … it’s a sex position and I think that’s how mom and dad made the new baby …” Annie explained.

Xander choked and coughed until his eyes watered and he dropped the rest of the sandwich in the sink as he tried to get the bits of it that he’d inhaled out of his windpipe. Finally, he turned around, his face flushed and eyes still tearing slightly.

“Sex?” he questioned, his voice shrill, breaking several octaves higher than normal. He laughed nervously. “No, honey … that’s not … Babies come from watermelon seeds … the mommy swallows the seed and a baby grows in her tummy…”



Annie rolled her eyes and sighed heavily. “Uncle Xander, that’s just a story for little kids. Aunt Anya says babies are made when a man’s penis ejaculates sperm into the vagina and Olympic gold-medal tadpoles swim up and find the egg with a biological GPS and they fertilize it. That’s what makes a baby.”

“Uhhhh… well …” Xander stammered.

“I thought you actually had sex before … Aunt Anya says that your penis is twenty-five percent larger than the average human male and that you’re a fast learner … but I’m not so sure about that last part.”

“AHN!!!”

**~**

{{Click here to hear "The Birds and the Bees” by Dean Martin on YouTube  }}


Let me tell you 'bout the birds and the bees
and the flowers and the trees,
the moon up above, and the thing called love.

Let me tell you 'bout the stars in the sky,
the girl and the guy
and the way they could kiss
on a night like this.

When I look into your big brown eyes,
it's very plain to see
that it's time you learn about the facts in life
startin' from A to Z.
Let me tell you 'bout the birds and the bees
and the flowers and the trees,
the moon up above, and a thing called love.

When I look into your big brown eyes,
it is very plain to see
that it's time you learn about the facts of life
startin' from A to Z.
Let me tell you 'bout the birds and the bees
and the flowers and the trees,
the moon up above, and the thing called love.

Let me tell you 'bout the birds and the bees,
the flowers and the trees,
the stars in the sky, a girl and a guy.

The birds and the bees,
the flowers and the trees,
the stars in the sky and a girl and a guy...
End Notes:
I hope you got some laughs ... we'll get back to London shortly ...
Just the Two of Us by Passion4Spike
Author's Notes:
Giles finds out more about the Council finances and tries to find a way to move the offices to California. Spike has some surprises for Buffy.
**
A Morton's Fork is a choice between two equally unpleasant alternatives (in other words, a dilemma), or two lines of reasoning that lead to the same unpleasant conclusion. It is analogous to the expressions "between the devil and the deep blue sea," "between a rock and a hard place," or, as those in the Spanish-speaking world say, "between a sword and a wall.”
**
Music Referenced:
Just the Two of Us, Bill Withers http://youtu.be/jEy6MGu3bIA
 **
ScreenCaps courtesy of ScreenCap Paradise:
http://www.screencap-paradise.com/?cat=3
**
Thanks to 'epd4' for betaing this chapter.
Back in London ...
(The next day) Monday, May 2nd, 2010, 2:30pm:

 
Buffy walked into the office that Giles had been using at the Council headquarters to find out if he’d gotten flights home booked for her, Spike, Bess, Faith, and the rest of the Slayers Faith had brought with her. There really wasn’t much else the ‘muscle’ of the operation could do here, and they were all anxious to get back home. Giles and Wes were both bent over some ledger books and official looking papers on the desk, studying them closely, each with a grim set to their jaw and furrowed brows.

 

“Can anyone join this club, or is it limited to mopey Watchers only?” Buffy quipped as she walked up to the desk.
 
Giles looked up from the papers they’d been scrutinizing, which appeared to be court documents, and sat back, dropping his glasses down on the desk as he rubbed tiredly at his eyes. “You are more than welcome to join our club, Buffy – you don’t happen to have an extra quid … or hundred thousand, lying about, do you?”
 
Buffy furrowed her brows and patted down her pockets. “Sorry, left my wallet in my other pants,” she replied, borrowing one of Spike’s classic excuses. “I’ll have to owe it to you…”
 
When neither of the Watchers even cracked a smile, she asked, “Wow … tough crowd, I thought that deserved at least an eye roll. What’s the up, Giles?”
 
“I’m afraid that our good friend Quentin has driven the Council to the brink of bankruptcy with his ludicrous ‘Super Slayer’ program. All those guards, technicians, and doctors … not to mention the witches, shamans, and sorcerers … plus paying salaries, albeit slight, to an army of Slayers and Watchers, along with travel expenses and training programs …” Giles let his voice trail off as he let out a deep breath. “He was barely keeping things operational by infusing money from his own family’s trust funds … and now that inflow has, of course, ceased with his … uhhh, timely demise.”

 

“You can’t be serious!” Buffy exclaimed in disbelief. “What about this building? And … and isn’t there a castle outside London? That alone must be worth a fortune! And don’t they have like a whole fleet of private planes?”
 
“The airplanes are leased … another extraordinarily expensive luxury,” Wes provided. “The castle has value, certainly, but also a mortgage … as does this building. The upkeep and taxes on them is … astronomical.”
 
Buffy plopped down in a chair opposite them and shook her head. “So, I guess this means you haven’t booked our flights … and Spike, Bess, and I are out of a paycheck…”
 
“No … we can keep all the salaries going … for now, anyway,” Giles assured her. “If you could … uhhhh … pay the re-scheduling fees for your flights with your card, I’ll reimburse you as soon as we can get some additional cash freed up, and Wesley and I will take care of the others. It seems Quentin’s been remiss in payment of some outstanding debts and … well, I’m afraid most of the accounts have been frozen by a court order. The only account not frozen is the one dedicated to the payroll; there are sufficient funds in there to pay the remaining employees at the current salaries for … uhhh … two months.”
 
Buffy rolled her eyes and shook her head in disbelief. Two months!? She had really been hoping this would be the answer to her and Spike’s money problems … Spike wouldn’t have to go back and beg Willy for his job back … which wouldn’t be a pretty picture, or go try to find some other job for which he’d be qualified. That just left the mandrake patch as their only hope for some salvation from the looming credit card debt that they’d piled up on this trip. They still had most of the money that Willow and Tara had given them, or repaid to them … but that wouldn’t hold out very long with three growing children, one teen-going-on-one-hundred addition to the household, and a baby on the way.
 
“It’s quite extraordinary, actually … we can’t afford to move and we can’t afford to stay here. I believe we have just been impaled by a ‘Morton’s Fork,’” Giles lamented.
 
“We’ve been ‘forked?’” Buffy questioned, looking between Wes and Giles.
 
“Indeed … I would say that sums it up precisely,” Giles agreed with a heavy sigh.

 

**~**
 
(Same day), 9:30pm, London:
 
Giles unlocked the front door of the Council headquarters building and opened it for Olivia to enter. Everyone else had gone for the day, or night, as it were …
 
“Thank you so much for meeting me here,” Giles welcomed her with a soft kiss on the lips.
 
“I just hope I can help…” Olivia replied after the kiss as they began walking down the empty corridor.
 
“You say your friend at the auction house is well versed in objects of the occult?” Giles asked as Olivia stopped in front of a large oil painting that hung behind the receptionist’s desk.
 
“Yes …” she replied distractedly as she turned and took in the furnishings in the waiting area. Looking back at Giles she questioned, “Is the whole of the building furnished like this?”
 
Giles shrugged. “Yes, for the most part …”
 
“Hmmm…” Olivia offered neutrally as she started past the reception area, stopping at the first office door and looking back at Giles. “May I?” she questioned, indicating the closed door.
 
“Please, make yourself at home…”
 
Olivia stepped into the now un-occupied office. One wall was lined with floor to ceiling bookcases filled to overflowing with old tomes along with various magical supplies, orbs, crystals, and jars of herbs. On the other wall was an antique divan with a vibrant, intricately woven, Persian tapestry hanging on the wall above it. In the center of the room was a large, mahogany desk with rosewood inlays and ornate carvings covering the front and sides, behind the desk was a matching credenza and hutch, equally ornate, and all in perfect condition. In front of the desk sat two Louis XIII side chairs with what appeared to be the original needlepoint seats and backs, and under the chairs was yet another hand-woven, antique Persian rug.
 
Olivia turned back and looked at Giles. “All of this can go?” she questioned, waving her arm around the room.
 
Giles nodded. “Everything except the books … and perhaps some of the magic supplies. I need to go through all those items carefully to be sure there are no particularly rare, ‘one of a kind’ articles … and no ‘weapons of mass destruction’ among them.”
 
Olivia’s eyes widened as she looked around the room. “You believe there are chemical or biological weapons here?” she asked, backing up towards the door slowly.
 
Giles smiled and caught her by the shoulders when she reached the doorway where he was standing. “No … but there are other weapons which are just as destructive … weapons that, if in the wrong hands, can send our world hurtling into a hell dimension we may never be able to escape from.”
 
Olivia turned to face him, her face a study in worry and confusion.
 
“Welcome to my world. I understand if you … can’t stay,” Giles offered sincerely.
 
“You’ve faced such weapons before?” she wondered, looking into the Watcher’s gentle eyes.
 
“Many times…”
 
“And we are, presumably, not in a hell dimension…” she pointed out.
 
“Presumably,” Giles agreed.
 
“Then it appears that next to you would be the safest place to be, and the place where I can be of the most help,” Olivia assured him, laying a hand softly on his cheek.
 
Giles nodded in relief and closed his eyes, taking comfort in her touch. She had said that she was ready to face the reality of his life, but he still wasn’t sure she realized the full extent of what she was agreeing to. He hoped that it didn’t become too much for her later … because the longer she stayed, the harder it would be for him to watch her walk away.
 
“I do think we will need more than just an expert in the occult, however,” Olivia continued, stepping back and looking at the room again. “I think we could do a whole season of ‘Antiques Roadshow’ here … I do hope those cuties Leigh and Leslie pop over. They are simply adorable! I wonder if they’re single… Now that would be quite a ménage à trios, wouldn’t you agree?”

 

“I, uhhhh … never really gave it much thought,” Giles stammered, removing his glasses and polishing them furiously.
 
Olivia laughed and turned back around to face him. “You really do need lighten up a bit, Rupert …” Olivia teased.

 

Giles let out a sigh of relief and put his glasses back on as Olivia slid past him and started down the hall to inspect more of the offices. “You must know I wouldn’t leave you out … hmmm, would that be a ménage à quatre or still a trios since Leigh and Leslie are identical twins?” she wondered idly as she walked away.
 
Giles smiled and shook his head as he followed her. Yes … watching her walk away was already becoming difficult, even if it was just down the hall…
 
**~**
 
8:00pm, at the hotel, London:
 
“Bloody-fucking-hell!” Spike yelled as he struggled to hold still, pressing his palms against his eyes as he lay on the bed in their hotel room.
 
“I’m sorry …” Buffy muttered for what seemed the hundredth time as she used a pair of wire cutters and pliers to cut Spike’s ‘stitches’ and pull them out. Bess sat on his feet to keep him from flailing around too much as Buffy worked on his injured abdomen. The ‘Man of Steel’ may not rust, but his muscle and skin did, apparently, heal around steel stitches and every time Buffy pulled one out, it pulled a plug of pink tissue with it and left a bleeding hole in Spike’s stomach all along each side of the wound.
 
“Fuck!” Spike screamed again, fighting to keep his demon down … it really wanted to kill whatever it was that was taking ‘bites’ out of his flesh.
 
“That’s it … last one,” Buffy announced finally, blowing out a deep breath and dropping the last piece of bloody wire, along with the pliers, in the garbage can. She really wished Spike would’ve let Giles do this part, but Spike wanted it done tonight and Giles had an appointment, or so he said. Spike thought the Watcher had a ‘date’ … but, either way, he wasn’t available for the festivities this evening.
 
“I really don’t know why this couldn’t have waited until morning…” Buffy moaned as she tried to get her own heart to stop racing. She wasn’t squeamish, but she hated doing anything that caused Spike physical pain, especially after all he'd been through. “Our flight doesn’t leave until nine tomorrow night…”
 
Spike sat up as Bess got up off his legs and retrieved a washcloth for him to wipe the blood off his stomach with. “Told ya’ … got a date with ‘m girl tonight and she ain’t going out with no stitched together Frankenstein with wires sticking out this way and that,” Spike explained again, looking at the clock. “Speaking of which, you need to get ready … need to leave by 8:30, pet.”

 

Buffy rolled her eyes and let out a sigh. “Just let me get the blood and guts washed off…” she moaned as she headed for the bathroom. In the bathroom, Buffy pulled off her clothes and looked in the mirror as she wet washcloth. She’d taken a shower and done her hair and makeup earlier … not realizing that Spike was gonna want major surgery before their date. She snorted a soft laugh as she washed the blood off her hands and where it had spattered on her arms and neck, trying to remember a time when ‘getting ready for a date’ didn’t involve washing gross things off your skin, shoes, or clothes…
 
Back in the bedroom area, Spike finished cleaning the blood from his stomach and he had Bess put a Band-Aid over each of the spots where the stitches had been. Spike wasn’t happy with having to do that, it was just barely better than a stitched-together Frankenstein, but he didn’t want blood on his dress shirt … maybe he could sneak off to the loo later and take them off after he’d stopped bleeding.
 
“At least it’s black …” Bess pointed out, as if reading Spike’s mind. “If some blood gets on it, it won’t show.”
 
“Yeah, I reckon…” Spike agreed as he finished buttoning it before turning his back on the girl, unfastening his belt and the snap and zipper on his pants and tucking his shirt in.
 
“No need to be shy, I’ve seen that before, ya know…” Bess pointed out as she watched him.
 
“Yeah, well, you ain’t seein’ it again …” Spike assured her as he finished refastening his belt and turned back around.
 
“Seen lots of men,” Bess continued with a shrug. “It doesn’t bother me…”
 
Spike looked at her with a furrowed brow, considering her and what the time in the dungeon, especially the last two years with her soul intact, had done. “You understand why I wouldn’t have sex with you in the white room … yeah?” he questioned.
 
Bess shrugged. “You’re married to Buffy… married people are supposed to just have sex with the person they’re married to,” Bess offered. “It doesn’t always work that way, you know. Had sex with lots of men who were married to someone else.”

 

“Yeah, I reckon that’s true enough for some men … and women too, but not for me – not for Buffy … but that’s not the only reason. You do believe that I’m your father, don’t you?” Spike wondered, studying her face.
 
Bess shrugged. “Yeah … I get it.”
 
“You’re a lovely bird, Bess … but you’re my daughter. Fathers don’t look at their daughters that way …” Spike began before an alarming thought crossed his mind. “The Weatherfords … the vicar didn’t …”
 
“No!” Bess exclaimed. “Daddy was a good man, he loved us! He worked so hard to give us everything we wanted … to give mom pretty things. He was the best dad anyone could ever have – don’t ever say that again!”
 
Spike nodded, sure that she was telling the truth by the defensive passion in her voice and the anger that flashed in her eyes at the accusation.

“You see that feeling right there?” he asked, pointing at her heart. “That’s just how I feel about you, pet. I may not have been there for you when you needed me, but I’m your father and I’m here now. You may never be able to call me ‘dad’, but that won’t stop me from being your dad or you from bein’ our daughter.”
 
Bess folded her arms over her chest and looked down at the floor. “I said I get it,” she repeated.
 
“You gonna be ok on your own t’night?” Spike asked her, letting the previous subject drop as he buttoned his cuffs and straightened his collar.
 
“Yeah, sure. There’s a ‘Monty Python’ marathon on the telly,” Bess offered, using Spike’s word for the wondrous marvel of technology that brought the world into your hotel room – she’d spent every free minute hypnotized by it.


 
“That’s m’ girl…” Spike smiled wrapping an arm around her shoulders and giving her a tight squeeze. “You’ve got Buffy’s cell number … if anything happens …”
 
“Just call the number and wait for her to answer; if there’s no answer, leave a message and she’ll call back … yes, I know how it works. I have talked on the phone a few times now,” Bess assured him as he released her and she headed for the door. “Have a good time.”
 
“Thanks, I plan to…” Spike replied with a smirk as Bess headed back to her own room.
 
**~**
 
Buffy emerged from the bathroom dressed in a knee length, sleeveless, black dress that she’d bought at the market when she and Bess had gone shopping earlier in the week. It was marked down seventy-five percent … she couldn’t let it just hang there, it was too cute and looked so lonely there on the clearance rack, and the flared skirt didn’t squeeze the small bulge in her belly like a lot of her clothes were starting to do. The decorative straps across the chest above the bodice added just the right amount of fanciness to the simple A-line dress; it was comfortable and sexy and, with the full skirt, Buffy could even fight in it if she had to … it was perfect.



The sparkly, gold shawl that Buffy borrowed from Olivia made her ensemble complete … she only wished she had a pair of her Jimmy Choos to wear with it, but she hadn’t packed them, so she had to go with her ‘everyday’ black heels.  The only other thing missing was her jewelry … just how long did it take to break into a safe, anyway? They should get that blonde chick from that show she’d seen on TNT … that girl’d have it open in three seconds flat…

 

Spike was sitting on the bed fiddling with a loose string on the pillowcase, waiting impatiently (as usual) for Buffy to get ready. When she came out of the bathroom, he looked up and drew in a deep breath … she was, literally, breathtaking. Her hair fell in golden waves over her glittering shoulders, framing her luminous green eyes and angelic face with a soft glow … or was the glow coming from within? Spike could just see her tummy pushing the ‘A’ line of the dress into more of a ‘D’ in the front and he smiled, thinking she’d never looked more lovely … but then, he always thought that, and for him it was always true. Every time he looked away and looked back, she always seemed to look lovelier … there was always something new about her that he hadn’t seen before or a glint in her eye or a smile on her pretty lips that needed sussing out and he relished every confounding glance and glimmer.
 
“How do I look?” Buffy asked, turning in a circle.
 
Spike gave her his best ‘thinky-face’ and motioned with a finger for her to turn back around the other way, and Buffy obliged.
 
“Well?” she prodded.
 
“Not sure … go back ‘round …” Spike requested, twirling his finger back the other way.

 

Buffy twirled back around, holding her arms out so the shawl would wave and sparkle in the breeze she was creating. She stopped and looked at him again and Spike twirled his finger the other way. Buffy was starting to get concerned, this time looking down as she turned around to try and see what was wrong with her outfit.

 “What’s wrong?” she asked as she stopped again, looking at her husband with confusion. “Is it the dress or the shawl … ‘cos I can take the shawl off … but I don’t have another dressy-dress. Oh God, don’t tell me it’s the shoes! I don’t have any other heels with me…” she babbled, as she looked back down at her outfit.
 
“I think something’s missing,” Spike told her as he stood up and started towards her.
 
“Missing?” Buffy questioned. “Shoes, dress, shawl, underwear … I really don’t have room for anything else,” she argued.
 
“Not even this?” he asked, holding a jewelry box with the name ‘Pandora’ on it out to her.

 

Buffy raised her brows, looking from the box to his eyes and back again. “I hope that’s not the Pandora’s box … gotta say, not really dressed for that.”
 
Spike snorted a soft laugh and pulled the top off the box, revealing a silver charm bracelet inside. “I wanted to get gold, but…” Spike shrugged, the meaning clear – he couldn’t afford the gold; he actually couldn’t afford the silver, but MasterCard could. “Hope you fancy it…”
 
A wide smile lit Buffy’s face as she picked up the charm bracelet. “What’s the occasion?” Buffy questioned, as she began looking more closely at the baubles. Then worry creased her features and she looked back up at Spike, suddenly afraid that this day had some special meaning that she had missed during her years in the ‘Wish World’.
 
“It’s Monday and you look radiant,” Spike explained with a loving smile.



Buffy blushed slightly but her wide smile came back as she turned her attention back to the bracelet. It had seven charms on it and room for more … Buffy went from one to the next, looking at them closely as her heart danced with excitement.
 
The first charm was a small skeleton key. “The Key … Annie,” Buffy whispered as she fingered the small trinket.
 
The second charm was of the Eiffel Tower. “Anne,” Buffy guessed, remembering how excited Anne had been in 1890 at the thought of going to see the landmark ‘before they tore it down’. Buffy had been glad to hear from Wanda that Anne had been able to see Paris after all ... even if it was many years later.
 
The third charm was a soccer ball. Buffy laughed. “Dani,” she had no doubt about that.
 
The fourth charm was a dagger. Buffy furrowed her brow and studied the intricate detail of the tiny weapon. When she didn’t say anything, Spike supplied, “They didn’t have any wooden stakes … best I could do for our Slayer.”

 

Buffy smiled and looked up into his eyes and nodded. “It’s perfect for Bess.”
 
The fifth charm was a tiny book. “Billy,” Buffy knew immediately.
 
The next charm was a stork delivering a baby wrapped in blue. “William, Junior,” Buffy surmised, since he hadn’t yet been born when she visited their family of the past.
 
The last charm was a miniature bandstand, like the one in Clapham Common … where their littlest bit was conceived. Buffy smiled and laid a hand on her tummy, then looked up at Spike as tears glistened her eyes. “I love it … you don’t know how much I love it,” she gushed, holding it up for him to fasten around her wrist.
 
When he had it secured for her, Buffy wrapped her arms around his neck and dropped a soft kiss on his lips. “I love you,” she whispered against his mouth. “Thank you so much …”
 
Spike smiled at her, even though he would’ve preferred something more expensive, he was glad that she liked it and it filled his own heart with joy to see her happy and smiling. That was something he wanted to see every day of their lives … her beautiful smile and her eyes sparkling with joy.

 

“We don’t wanna be late … better get going, then…” Spike suggested as he wrapped an arm over her shoulders and started for the door as Buffy held her arm up and admired the bracelet again.
 
“This has already been a wonderful date … we could just … stay here, order in … unplug the phone,” Buffy hinted with a sly smile.
 
Spike smirked … that thought had crossed his mind too. If he hadn’t already spent so much time and money planning this night, he would’ve definitely jumped at that suggestion … but there were lots more surprises to come and he couldn’t wait to see her face light up with each one.
 
“Not breaking a date with your husband to watch the Monty Python marathon, are ya?” Spike questioned with cocked brow and a smirk.
 
Buffy laughed as he guided her out the door and into the hallway. “You caught me … I’m in love with John Cleese,” she sighed and pouted melodramatically as they made their way towards the stairs. “I can’t ever put one over on you.”
 
“You’d be best to remember that,” Spike teased as they walked.
 
“Ummm … I do have one question, though,” Buffy began, holding up the charm bracelet, which could easily hold many more charms. “Just how many more children do you think are in our future?”
 
Spike laughed deeply as they walked out the front doors into the cool night air … he’d be happy with as many as she wanted and as many as the angels blessed them with. “Just keepin’ all possibilities open, pet.”
 
**~**

 

“Oh, it’s so beautiful!” Buffy exclaimed as they crossed the Thames, walking over Westminster Bridge, then down the promenade along the river towards the London Eye. The trees lining each side of the footpath were decked out in blue, as if Christmas had come early, and the giant Ferris wheel at the end of the walk was just as brightly lit, shining brilliantly against the dark, night sky.
 
“Are we going on the Ferris wheel?” Buffy asked, her eyes wide with excitement, as they held hands and walked towards the London Eye, which was the fourth tallest structure in London – on a clear day you could see almost forever.
 
“We are…” Spike confirmed as he watched her smile shine brighter than all the lights in all of London.

 

As they approached the popular attraction, Buffy spied the long queue of people waiting to get on and her shoulders sagged. “Oh … look at that line,” she moaned. “That’s worse than Space Mountain.”
 
“No worries, pet,” Spike assured her, pulling some papers from his pocket. “No waiting on line for us…”
 
Spike guided her to the ‘prepaid ticket holder’ gate and showed the hostess the papers and it suddenly felt like a red carpet had been rolled out for them – like in the cartoons. They were shown to the front of the line and a flurry of activity began as people readied their private gondola while the ride continued to move along slowly. By the time it got to where Buffy and Spike were waiting, ‘Cupid’s Capsule’ was fully stocked with chilled Pommery Brut Royal Champagne and a large tray of Charbonnel et Walker pink champagne truffles.

 

“Enjoy your flight,” the hostess wished them before closing and securing the door behind the lovers as the wheel continued to move slowly, starting back up its arc towards the top, nearly four hundred and fifty feet above.
 
Buffy walked slowly around the perimeter of the glass-walled gondola, watching the lights and people below becoming smaller and smaller as they got further and further away. Spike opened the champagne and poured them each a glass, then walked up behind her as she stood gazing out at the lights of London. He stood behind her, wrapping one arm around her and handing her one of the glasses as he settled against her back and looked out at the city over her shoulder.
 
They stood in silence for a long while as they rose high above the London streets, each lost in their own thoughts. To Spike it didn’t even seem like the same city he’d grown up in, the same city he thought he’d live his entire life in … the same city that he first met his fallen angel in. He thought about Bess and what a culture shock she must be experiencing … she really was handling it extremely well, he wasn’t sure he would’ve done as well given the circumstances.
 
Buffy’s eyes wandered over the lights of the city, which sparkled like diamonds before them and seemed to go on forever.  The last time she had been here, the city had been over a hundred years younger … there were no cars or electric lights and there certainly was no gi-mongous Ferris wheel. Buffy touched the bandstand charm on her wrist and wondered how much of their life was pre-ordained and how much really was ‘free will’ like the PTB espoused. Was everything that happened part of some grand plan to fulfill a prophecy or was the prophecy manipulated to fit around what happened, or were the two even related at all – was life really just a haphazard, helter-skelter game of chance? Buffy sighed, sort of wishing for the last, but resigned to the real possibility that the truth was one of the first two choices.
 
“Penny for your thoughts,” Spike whispered in her ear.
 
Buffy smile and turned around to face him as she raised her glass up for a toast. “To fate and free-will,” Buffy toasted. “May we never be foolish enough to give in to the first or give up on the second.”

 

Spike nodded thoughtfully and clinked his glass against hers and they both took a sip of the sweet, bubbly liquid.
 
“Oh! I forgot!” Buffy exclaimed putting a hand over her mouth. “I’m not supposed to drink!”
 
Spike shook his head. “A little isn’t gonna hurt the bit. It’s a special night, our last night in London … our last night before the world starts crashin’ our party again.”
 
“Are you sure?” Buffy questioned, looking at the bubbly in her glass.
 
“Trust me. Here … try these – they make the champagne even better – plus, chocolate, so that would completely counteract any possible side-effects of the alcohol,” he assured her, turning and picking up one of the strawberry-chocolate truffles between two fingers and holding it up for her.
 
“Really? Who knew?” Buffy teased as she took a bite of the pink truffle and savored it, chewing slowly and letting the flavor fill her whole mouth with its rich flavors.
 
Spike popped the rest of the truffle into his mouth and did the same before toasting, “To the woman who makes the stars fade, the moon jealous, and the sun sink from the sky… your beauty outshines them all, Buffy.”
 
Buffy felt a her face flush as she smiled and clinked her glass against his and took another sip of the champagne, letting the flavor mingle with the remnants of the truffle and burst happily on her tongue. Spike was probably right, one glass wasn’t going to hurt.
 
“You’re a total corn-dog, you know that, right?” she teased, leaning against him and dropping a soft kiss on his lips.

 

“But a lovable one, yeah?” Spike questioned, giving her his most adorable ‘little boy’ look.
 
“Totally lovable … don’t ever stop,” Buffy encouraged him with a smile as she kept her body pressed against his, but pulled back to look into the depths of his smoldering blue eyes. “Lucky for you, I like corn-dogs … I just want to gobble them all up.”
 
“Do ya, now?” Spike smirked. “With mustard or …”
 
“Naaa … plain … or maybe a dash of champagne and truffles…”
 


Spike raked his tongue across his teeth, then bit his bottom lip to keep his giddy grin from making him look like too much of a ponce. He watched, mesmerized, as mischief danced in Buffy’s sparkling, green eyes and spread across her face, bringing a small smile to her delicate, pink lips. Spike leaned in and touched those sweet champagne and truffle flavored lips to his as the lovers rose higher and higher above the city lights.
 
She had made mistakes over the years, they both had … hurt each other without meaning to, not trusting fully when they should have – but it was never done with malicious intent; they’d just made mistakes and they’d both learned from them. He had never been more elated by her love of his inner romantic ponce than he was at this moment. Despite the mistakes they made, he knew she’d never take advantage of his tender heart like the other women to whom he’d given it in the past. She’d never make fun of it or use his feelings against him or try to control him with them … not like Cecily and Dru had. It made his heart soar to know that it was free to show her all the love it held … free to be as corny and starry-eyed and quixotic as it longed to be. With her, it was safe; with her it had found the one person who would treasure it and embrace it and love it just as much as he loved her.
 
Buffy turned in his arms and leaned back against his chest as the capsule rose higher and higher above the city. She sighed dreamily as they watched the world become smaller and smaller until all the lights just looked like stars spread out below them, as if they were at the top of the universe looking down, and that was exactly how she felt. Spike never ceased to amaze her … he always had the best surprises and he always knew just how to lift her up and make her feel like she was on top of the world, and tonight he'd done it literally. Even in the dungeon when they were both in pain and not sure that they’d ever make it out, he made her feel like it was just the two of them… like it was just them in their own little world, for a while, at least. Je t’aime beaucoup.

 

“I love you, Spike,” Buffy whispered as she hugged his arms around her tightly, still looking out at the lights that sparkled like a million diamonds below them.
 
“I love you, Buffy,” Spike replied, nuzzling through her soft hair and pressing his lips against the warm skin of her neck. Just the two of them, soaring through the stars, high above the world – that’s what he wanted to give her this night, all night long … and the night was still young…
  
**~**

{{Click here to hear "Just the Two of Us”, Bill Withers on YouTube  }}

I see the crystal raindrops fall
And see the beauty of it all
Is when the sun comes shining through
To make those rainbows in my mind
When I think of you some time
And I want to spend some time with you

Just the two of us
We can make it if we try
Just the two of us
Just the two of us
Building castles in the sky
Just the two of us
You and I

We look for love, no time for tears
Wasted water's all that is
And it don't make no flowers grow
Good things might come to those who wait
Not to those who wait too late
We got to go for all we know

Just the two of us
We can make it if we try
Just the two of us
Just the two of us
Building castles in the sky
Just the two of us
You and I

I hear the crystal raindrops fall
On the window down the hall
And it becomes the morning dew
Darling, when the morning comes
And I see the morning sun
I want to be the one with you

Just the two of us
We can make it if we try
Just the two of us
Just the two of us
Building big castles way on high
Just the two of us
You and I

Just the two of us
Let's get together, baby
Just the two of us
We can make it
Just the two of us
We can make it
Just the two of us
End Notes:
TBC .... will have more of their date soon. Hope everyone in the US has a happy 'Tie Spike to a Chair' day this Thursday. Also, if you have time, take a look at the stories nominated in the SunnyD awards, Voting IS NOW OPEN ... Voting Form: http://sunnydawards.dragonydreams.com/vote.html
Stay With Me by Passion4Spike
Author's Notes:
Spike has more surprises for Buffy in London ...
**
Douglas “Wrong Way” Corrigan: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Douglas_Corrigan
He was nicknamed "Wrong Way" in 1938. After a transcontinental flight from Long Beach, California, to New York, he flew from New York to Ireland, though his flight plan was filed to return to Long Beach. He claimed his unauthorized flight was due to a navigational error, caused by heavy cloud cover that obscured landmarks and low-light conditions, causing him to misread his compass. However, he had been denied permission to make a nonstop flight from New York to Ireland, and his "navigational error" was seen as deliberate. Nevertheless, he never publicly admitted to having flown to Ireland intentionally.
**
Music Referenced:
Stay With Me, Dainty Kane:  http://youtu.be/qI_pTbkgoaQ
 **
ScreenCaps courtesy of ScreenCap Paradise:
http://www.screencap-paradise.com/?cat=3
**
Thanks to 'epd4' for betaing this chapter.
(Later that night) Monday, May 2nd, 2010, 10:00pm, London:
 
Buffy felt more than a little light-headed as they strolled along the River Thames, away from the London Eye, and towards the Embankment station for the Tube. That giddy feeling wasn’t from the one glass of champagne, however – it was from the love Spike poured over her during their half hour trip to the top of the world and back. She really didn’t know how he did it … how he could make her love him more, but he always seemed to find new ways to warm her heart, to touch her soul.
 
He had once told her that marriage was hard work … to do it right took more than love; it took effort and understanding and forgiveness and empathy and a ‘bloody good sense of humor’. There was no doubt that Spike put in the effort to make sure there was no room for complacency and no time to take each other, or their love, for granted. Buffy sighed dreamily as they held hands and walked under the stars and she made a mental note to return the favor as soon as she could. Spike shouldn’t be the only one cooking up surprises …
 
Spike steered her into the Underground station and down the escalator to the platform for the Northern Line heading south. “F5…” he muttered under his breath, looking at the colorful map on the wall that looked like a crayon box had melted on a large plate of spaghetti.

 

Buffy furrowed her brow and scanned the map to find what he was looking at, but Spike turned her away too quickly for her to find ‘F5’ and gently steered her to the right platform.
 
“Do you know what you’re doing?” she questioned, trying to look back over her shoulder at the map.
 
“Have I ever steered you wrong yet?” Spike challenged, cocking a brow at her.


 
“There was that one time at Disneyland … I told you the Pirates of the Caribbean was near Tarzan’s Tree House, but nooooo … you said it was…”

 

“Once! One bloody time I got lost in that soddin’ place and you’ll never forget it, will ya? Traveled all over the bloody world without getting lost, but you have to remember that! You get lost in the mall,” Spike pointed out as they waited for the train.
 
Buffy laughed. “I don’t really get lost in the mall, I just tell you that to give myself extra shopping time…” she admitted.
 
Spike rolled his eyes and shook his head. “Just trust me…I know where I’m goin’.”
 
“Would you care to share with the studio audience?” Buffy quipped.
 
“No, Alex … I don’t believe I would. As someone pointed out to our daughter not long ago, for something to be a surprise, there has to be an actual element of surprise to it.”
 
“No fair using Slayer-logic on me…” Buffy protested.
 
Spike rolled his eyes as the train pulled up and the doors opened. “Here we go, m’ lady. Your chariot awaits.”
 
Buffy sighed as she stepped in and took a seat in the nearly empty car, Spike following closely behind her. He knew she’d figure it out shortly, but there was no way he could make her keep her eyes closed the whole way … could he?
 
“We’re going the wrong way,” Buffy protested after a couple of stops.
 
“Are we, then? And since you don’t know where we’re goin’, how do you know it’s the wrong way?”

 

“This isn’t the way back to the hotel… we should be going that way,” Buffy insisted, pointing off to the side.
 
“Actually, the hotel is that way,” Spike corrected, moving her arm forty-five degrees so it was pointing basically back the direction they’d come from.
 
“Oh… Are you sure?” Buffy questioned, looking around as if trying to get her bearings, which was rather difficult in the Underground.
 
Spike blew out a long breath. “No more truffles for you, go right to your head, they do.”
 
“Well, it’s not fair … I never learned to navigate by the stars … I need the sun,” Buffy defended.
 
“We’re in a bloody tunnel … you couldn’t see the stars or the sun, even if it was out,” Spike pointed out as a strong feeling of déjà vu came over him. Bloody hell … she’s turning into Dru, he thought, remembering how Dru could see the stars even when she was indoors.
 
Buffy rolled her eyes. “I know that, Einstein … I’m not Drusilla!” she argued, making Spike worry that he’d said that ‘out loud’. “I just meant that I must’ve gotten turned around earlier … kinda like someone got turned around in Disneyland…”
 
“Oh, bloody hell…”
 
**~**


 

As Buffy watched the stations pass, she realized they were heading towards Clapham … when Spike guided her off the train at the Clapham Common station, her hunch was confirmed. He must’ve figured out which house it was, after all …
 
Buffy was excited that he’d been able to figure it out and fought to keep her stride slow, matching Spike’s leisurely pace, as they walked past the Holy Trinity church and towards the north side of the Common. When Spike turned off the roadway onto a footpath that lead into the park … away from Macaulay Road, Buffy stopped.
 
“This isn’t the right way,” Buffy informed him, looking around quizzically – she was sure Macaulay road was to the right … he turned left.
 
“Isn’t it, then?” Spike questioned, stopping and looking at her with raised brows. “Since you don’t know where we’re going, how do you know it’s not the right bloody way?”
 
“’Cos you lived on Macaulay Road … since the church is there,” Buffy pointed at the tall steeple of Wanda and John’s old parish, “Macaulay Road has to be that way,” she concluded pointing to the north.
 
“I’m right, aren’t I? Who’s had too many truffles now, smart guy?” she asked smugly, folding her arms over her chest in victory – she knew she was right – there was no doubt.

 

Spike nodded. “Ya got me … Macaulay Road is that way…” he confirmed, pulling a silk blindfold out of his pocket and holding it up for her to see. “Time for m’ backseat navigator to take a bloody break…” he informed her, moving behind her and wrapping the cloth around her eyes.
 
“Hey!” Buffy protested with a frown, but didn’t stop him from tying the soft fabric around her head. “That’s the thanks I get for making sure we don’t get lost?”
 
Spike chuckled. “Thanks, pet … you’re the best bloody navigator since Douglas Corrigan,” Spike assured her seriously.

 

Buffy furrowed her brows … she thought he would’ve compared her to Magellan or Columbus or even Chekov … the one from Star Trek, not the one from World Lit class. Who the heck is Douglas Corrigan, anyway? Oh … was he the first guy that flew around the world non-stop?
 
Spike started turning her in circles, like they do children before letting them take a swipe at a piñata, and Buffy let the question go as he spun her first one way, then the other.
 
“If you don’t want to revisit those truffles I ate, you better stop …” Buffy moaned after about five times around and back again.
 
Spike stopped her, holding onto her shoulders as she swayed on her feet. Buffy grabbed onto his arm for support with one hand and held her churning stomach with the other … baby no likey the teacups.

 

 “Now, which way, Corrigan?” Spike questioned when her green tint faded a bit.
 
Buffy pointed towards the south. “Bloody brilliant, you are, pet,” Spike smirked as he guided her to the left, towards the south, down the footpath that he had originally started to take before her protest.
 
“You have to get up preee-tty early to put one over on me, buster…” Buffy boasted as she held to his arm and walked blindly down the walkway next to him.
 
“Of that, there is no doubt, luv.”
 
**~**
 
As they walked, Buffy could hear the sounds of the traffic, and even the smells of the city, getting further away. She could hear people talking as they walked past, and the sounds of crickets chirping started to overpower the sounds of horns honking in the distance. They were obviously not going towards the Weckerly’s old homestead, they were going into the Common. Just what did Spike have up his sleeve? Buffy couldn’t wait to find out, although another visit to the bandstand brought up mixed feelings. Memories of the night spent there in 1890 were bittersweet at best … she knew now that what happened was how it had to be to counteract Hallie’s wish, but it still pained her heart to know how much she’d hurt William that night in her travel back in time.
 
Spike led her up the stairs of the bandstand and stopped her in the center of the pavilion. He turned her to face him then pulled the blindfold away from her eyes. Buffy looked around and her hunch was confirmed … back to the scene of the heartbreak, it wasn’t her proudest moment. She looked back at Spike, who was watching the emotions wash over her features and gave him a questioning look.

 

“I was both killed and born right here … awoken from a mediocre life and flung headlong into an extraordinary one,” he began softly. “There were too many tears shed that night … too much hurt, too much heartache. Our little bit deserves better than that … she deserves this place to bring warmth to our hearts, not pain … not anguish or guilt.”
 
Tears well in Buffy’s eyes and spilled over, streaking her cheeks as he spoke, and she bit her bottom lip to stop it from quivering … all that was true. When their baby was born, would the agony and guilt she felt that night, would the hurt that she’d caused William, be reflected in their eyes every time they looked at the innocent life that came out of the pain?
 
“So … I’m going to ask you again, my beautiful fallen angel,” Spike continued, his voice sliding easily back into the accent of his youth. He dropped down to one knee in front of her, took her left hand in his, and slowly slid her engagement ring and wedding band back on her finger as he looked up into her glistening, green eyes.



“Avengelyne, will you stay with me forever? Will you be my lover and my friend and protect my heart, as I vow to protect yours? Will you be the mother of my children and the savior of my soul? Will you be my wife and let me love you until our souls are free of this earth and we again fly past the sun on gossamer wings?”
 
Buffy was dumbstruck, this isn’t what she expected. She looked from him to her rings that he had slid back on her left hand, then back to his earnest eyes … William’s eyes, as tears streamed down her cheeks. Buffy swallowed the lump in her throat and nodded as she tried to get her brain to start working again. She dropped down to her knees in front of him and finally uttered, “You know I will …”
 
Buffy leaned in and dropped a soft kiss on Spike’s lips as he still held her left hand in both of his between their bodies. “I love you so much, William. I never want to lose you … I’ll never leave you again … never,” she vowed with all her heart as she stroked his cheek softly with her right hand and looked into his burning blue eyes.
 
“I missed you all those years … searched for m’ angel, I did … finally gave up on ever feelin’ the way she made me feel again,” Spike admitted, his accent changing back to the cockney that he’d adopted as a vampire. “Then I found you…”
 
Spike pulled the ruby and diamond heart pendant from his pocket and held it up for her to see. “And you brought that feeling back … you let William open his heart to you without fear. I gave you this token of my love so you would always have William’s heart next to yours … no matter how far apart we are, my heart is always with you – it’s yours, Buffy … yours alone.”
 
Spike unhooked the chain and held it up and with tears still flowing, Buffy sat down on the hard floor of the bandstand and turned around, holding her hair up out of the way so he could fasten it around her neck. Spike lifted it over her head and placed his heart back in its rightful place, next to hers, and fastened the clasp behind her back. With her hair still held off to one side, Spike dropped a soft kiss on the back of her neck and pulled her with him as he sat back onto the floor, as well.
 
Buffy snuggled back between his outstretched legs and leaned against him and Spike wrapped his arms around her and rested his chin on her shoulder, leaning his head against hers and closing his eyes as he breathed in her scent. Her salty tears mingled with the vanilla and honey fragrance of her shampoo, and the dab of  Chanel No. 5 on her warm skin, and that all combined with the champagne and strawberry-chocolate truffles she’d had earlier – it all fused into an intoxicating bouquet that added up to only one person … Buffy.
 
“I would’ve stayed if I could’ve,” Buffy offered, her voice barely a whisper as she fingered the heart pendant as it laid against her golden skin. “I never meant to hurt you … of all the things I did during that time, that’s the one thing I’m most ashamed of.”
 
Spike shook his head against hers. “Couldn’t be helped … don’t be ashamed, don’t feel guilty, don’t feel anything but joy over that night, Buffy. In a few months, we’ll have a beautiful reminder of that magical night – there’s no room for shame or guilt in that.” Spike laid his hands over her abdomen and the baby growing within her … for him it had been over a century, for her just a few weeks… but they could both feel the emotions of that night like it had just happened.
 
Buffy nodded solemnly. He was right … it couldn’t be helped and it had given them another child with a blank slate for a future … this child could be anyone, could do anything – just like their other children, the whole world was open to them … prophecies be damned.
 
Spike shifted slightly and dug into his pocket again, this time pulling out the ‘promise ring’ that he’d given her after the ‘Angel thing’.

 

“You kept your promise…” Spike proclaimed as he held the ring up in front of her. “You didn’t give up.”
 
Buffy sighed heavily as she took the ring from his hand and looked at it through glistening eyes in the dim light from the lamps along the walk path. “I did give up,” she reminded him softly, as she turned the ring slowly in her fingers. “I … I killed D’Hoffryn and destroyed all the Vengeance Demons … I’d done everything that I could think to do to get you back and it didn’t work and … I gave up.”
 
Buffy leaned to one side and turned her head to look at him. Spike’s blue eyes shone with compassion and love and remorse for not being able to keep his own promise to not let her walk alone ever again as he listened. “I took those pills … I … I didn’t know what else to do and I couldn’t stand the thought of living another day with that hole in my soul. I felt so … empty without you, without our family …”
 
Spike wiped her tears with the pad of his thumb as Buffy took a deep, shuddering breath before continuing, “It’s Wanda that never gave up … Wanda and Mom saved me … they … they helped me listen to my true heart – they helped me see that I hadn’t done everything I could do to get you back…”
 
Buffy had told him this before … it had been another of those conversations she wished she could’ve just avoided, one of those things she could’ve kept to herself, but she knew to heal, she needed to share everything with him; the good, the bad, and the ugly. Part of her wanted his forgiveness … the other part wanted him to punish her, to be angry and tell her how stupid and selfish she’d been to take those pills. What she got was nothing short of absolution and compassion from him …

 

“You didn’t give up, luv … you took the path you had to take to find the right road,” Spike assured her as he took the ring from her and lifted her right hand up to slide it back in place.
 
Buffy closed her fist, not letting him put it back on her finger. “I don’t deserve it …” she protested quietly, dropping her head in shame and closing her eyes. She’d nearly left him in hell – burning, freezing, running from the demons, getting torn to bits for all of eternity … she’d nearly failed her family, she came so close. She didn’t deserve his forgiveness …
 
Spike put a finger under her chin and lifted and turned her head to the side so he could see her eyes. “Buffy, even I gave up lookin’ for my fallen angel after a time … when I thought I’d looked everywhere I could … I gave up. If the situation were reversed, I don’t know that I would’ve done anything differently than you did, pet. There’s no shame in taking the long way home … in the end, the only thing that matters is that you made it home and you brought us all with ya.”
 
Buffy searched the blue depths of his eyes, looking beyond the surface and letting his love and forgiveness suture the gash that her guilt had left in her soul. Spike forced her fist open and slid the promise ring back in its rightful place. “Trust me, luv … you kept your promise.”
 
Buffy gave him a small, sad smile and looked down at the ring, not sure that he was right, but certain that she would never break that promise again. If it took ten lifetimes without him to get him back, even if she could only have him for one day, she would live them … she would never let him down again.
 
Spike pulled the last piece of jewelry from his pocket. They had finally gotten the safe from Travers’ office open the day before and Amanda, as instructed, had returned all Buffy’s jewelry to him; now it was his turn to return it to his wife.  Spike held up the yellow and white gold ring with two interlocking hearts so Buffy could see it.

 

“Don’t remember when I gave ya this, do ya?” he asked her as she took it from his hand and looked at it closely.
 
Buffy smiled sadly and shook her head. He had given it to her during the missing five years.
 
“When the little bits started school,” Spike recalled, “you’d walk them to the bus stop every mornin’ and watch them go and come home and cry. All our babies were growin’ up, going off on their own in the world a little more every day.
 
“Before they started going off on the big yellow bus, you were so happy … talking about all the time you’d have to finally get stuff done that you’d been puttin’ off … you could do anything you wanted all day while they were in school, maybe even go back to university yourself. You’d be free again…
 
“Turned out, you just missed them – missed the bike rides to the park you’d take every mornin’ with the three of ‘em – ‘cos, like Mary's little lamb, wherever ours are, Harris’ whelp is sure to follow. Even missed the Kool-Aid stains on the couch from all three of ‘em wrestlin’ in the livin’ room, the broken knick-knacks from them playing football in the house when it was rainin’, Junior screaming at the top of his lungs for the Whelp and Lemon Drop to shut up when he was tryin’ to watch Star Wars for the hundredth bloody time and they would say the lines in funny voices ‘fore the characters did…”
 
Buffy laughed lightly through her tears, envisioning the chaos that having not one, not two, but three small Tasmanian devils at home all day long could create. She remembered the first time she’d taken Dani and Billy to meet the bus after she got back and how much it hurt to watch her babies climb those tall steps and be carried away from her. She could definitely see how depressed it could make her to be suddenly cast out of a tumultuous maelstrom of activity to a silent, serene, sane, and utterly boring existence.
 
“You said your heart felt empty and alone …” Spike continued as he took the ring back from her hand and slid it slowly onto her pinky. “This is to remind you that your heart is never alone. No matter what … my heart is forever intertwined with yours, you’ll never be alone, Buffy … I’ll always be here.”
 
Buffy closed her eyes and nodded as she took his hand in hers and brought it to her lips, dropping a soft kiss on his palm. “I love you so much …” she whispered against his hand before turning to the side and capturing his soft lips with hers.


 
Spike wrapped his arms around her tightly as Buffy turned in his embrace on the cool, stone floor of the bandstand. She wrapped her arms around his neck and her legs around his hips as she sat in his lap and deepened the kiss. Buffy ran her hands through his hair, freeing his locks from their gel confines and setting William’s curls loose, just as they’d been that night in 1890. Buffy pulled back to look at him, smiling as she fussed with his hair, running her fingers through it until he ‘looked a right ponce’ … as he’d so often described any photo that she’d managed to snap of him with his curls unbound.
 
Spike watched her face as she undid all his hard work and couldn’t help but smile at the joy that danced in her eyes as he felt his hair take on a life of its own under her touch. “Show me again what true love is, Avengelyne…” Spike’s voice rumbled from deep within him as he leaned in and took her lips in another passionate kiss.
 
“Hey! Get a room!” someone yelled from the footpath to the south of the pavilion breaking their reverie.
 
Buffy half expected Spike to yell back and tell the intruder to ‘get stuffed’ or ‘sod off’, but instead he said, “Brilliant idea…”
 
Buffy pulled away disappointedly … truth be told, she would’ve liked to have made more good memories in the bandstand to counteract the old ones, but it wasn’t 1890 and it wasn’t the middle of winter. There were lots more people in London, and lots more people in the Common this night, than there were on the fateful night they’d spent here in 1890. Buffy stood up and gave Spike a hand up from the floor, but when she started to walk towards the stairs to leave, he pulled her back.
 
“Where ya going, luv?” he asked, standing firm in the center of the bandstand.
 
Buffy looked at him quizzically. “To … get a room?” It was halfway between a statement and a question.

 

“Got a room, right ‘ere,” Spike indicated, waving his arm around the large gazebo.
 
The furrow between Buffy’s brows got deeper as she looked around. “Yeah … but it’s kind of an … open air room…” she pointed out.
 
“No worries…” Spike assured her, pulling out a small, leather satchel from his pocket. He opened the pull-string at the top and poured a handful of what looked like glittering gold dust into his palm. Holding his palm flat, with the gold dust barely cupped in his hand, he turned in a circle and blew the glittering magic all around the bandstand.
 
Suddenly a hush fell over them, Buffy could no longer hear the sounds of the city or even the crickets … just beyond the outer perimeter of the bandstand was an undulating wall of gold that glittered softly, casting a warm glow over them and the pavilion and blocking out the world.

 

Buffy turned back to Spike who was pouring the contents of a second satchel into his palm, this one with sparkling, turquoise-blue dust. “I thought you didn’t like magic…” she pointed out as she watched him.
 
Spike didn’t answer, but repeated the process with the richly colored blue dust, blowing it off his palm in a slow circle within the wall of gold and the interior of the bandstand was transformed from nothing but cold, hard stone and iron to a sanctuary of warmth and softness. Around the perimeter of the bandstand, diaphanous, chiffon curtains in rich jewel tones of sapphire blue, emerald green, and amethyst purple, hung from the ceiling. They softened the resplendent, golden light from the wall of magic even more as they billowed softly in a breeze of their own creation. Satiny pillows of all sizes and shapes in the same rich tones covered about half of the stone floor; off to one side, away from the pillows, sat a wood-burning stove and next to it was a ‘breakfast in bed’ tray with silverware and dishes and a crystal bud vase containing a single dusty-pink rose. A teapot whistled on top of the stove and the smell of cottage pie cooking, along with sweetbreads, and treacle pudding filled the oasis with a heavenly aroma, making Buffy’s stomach rumble in hunger.
 
Buffy turned back to Spike in amazement and just a little bit of awe. Spike smirked as he stepped up to her and wrapped his arms around her. “Sometimes to make a night magical, you have to use actual magic…” he explained before dropping a soft kiss on her lips.
 
**~**

 

Buffy and Spike sat on the soft cushions and talked and laughed and fed each other cottage pie, candy-cane biscuits, and treacle pudding, and drank ‘Passionate Rose Tea’ … black tea blended with pieces of passion fruit, bright yellow sunflower blossoms, and beautiful pink rosebuds. It wasn’t exactly what she’d had in 1890, but it added a new dimension, with a sweet, tropical flavor, to this ‘re-creation’ of her meal with Nellie, Anne, and Bess at the Weckerly home.   Everything tasted just as she remembered, with the treacle pudding being just as ‘scrummy’ as it had been that night. Buffy made sure to save some of everything to bring back to the hotel for Bess …
 
When they'd finished eating, Spike got up and took the tray back over by the stove, which had magically cooled down after he’d removed the food. When he turned back around he caught Buffy staring at him as if caught in a trance. Her eyes met his and he held her gaze as he walked slowly back towards her, neither green nor blue wavering or blinking. Spike knelt back next to her on the pillows and tilted his head, considering the dreamy, far away look in her eyes … how could she take his breath away (figuratively, of course) every time he looked at her?

 

“You’re amazing…” Buffy began, breaking her reverie, but keeping her gaze locked on his as he slowly knelt back down and sat in front of her. “Just when I think there’s nothing you can possibly do to make me love you more … you do. Just when I think I know you so well that there’s no way you could surprise me again, you do. Just when I think I know where you’re going … you spin my head around and fill my tummy with old-fashioned, scrumptious goodies.”
 
“Well, I’ve heard tell that the way to an angel’s heart is through her stomach…” Spike teased.
 
“That’s funny,” Buffy teased back, leaning forward and resting her forehead against his as she took both his hands in hers. “I always thought it was a few inches lower…”
 
“Did ya, now?” Spike questioned as he leaned his body towards her and pushed her onto her back on the pillows, pulling his hands out of hers and holding himself above her on strong arms. “Ya mean I did all that slavin’ over a hot stove for nothin’?”
 
Buffy shrugged, running her hands over the soft fabric covering hard muscles of his arms as she looked up into his eyes with a mischievous grin. “I wouldn’t say that…you got me all warm and gooey inside …”
 
“Warm, gooey angels are my favorite kind,” Spike whispered as he lowered his lips to hers and made her warm, gooey insides begin to boil and tingle with the desire that had been building in her since Spike asked her on this date earlier in the day.  In fact, that warm and gooey feeling had started then too … he’d been so cute, acting a proper Victorian gentleman, giving her a deep bow and ‘requesting the pleasure of her company’ for an evening on the town.
 
Buffy moaned against Spike’s mouth as his tongue found its way between her soft, sensuous lips and her tongue swirled around it, inviting him in … joining his in the dance. Buffy felt an overwhelming need to feel his skin … to feel his hard body pressed against hers with no encumbrances between them. Spike’s wild angel growled against his lips as she flipped them over, dropping Spike onto his back on the soft pillows and making him gasp in surprise.
 
Buffy settled herself on top of his hips and began slowly unbuttoning his shirt, running her fingers along his cool, smooth skin as she worked her way from his collar down to his belt. Buffy pulled his shirt out from his pants and let it fall open, revealing the hard muscles of his torso to her. Before they left the London Eye, he’d slipped into the loo and removed the Band-Aids that Bess had put on his stomach … the bleeding had stopped, but there were still two lines of raw, pink wounds from the removal of the stitches running like rail-road tracks on either side of a wide, angry, red scar.

She bit her bottom lip as she ran her fingers lightly over his soft skin, down from his collarbone, circling his strong pecs and dark nipples, lingering longer on the scar over his heart where Kralik had found and removed the Gem from its hiding place. She blinked back tears and forced her hands down, dancing them softly over his six-pack abs and the even larger scar that obscured his bellybutton. She took a deep, shuddering breath as the reality of how close she came to losing him seeped into her brain, despite her best efforts to think only happy thoughts. 


 
Spike grabbed her hands and pulled them to his lips, dropping soft kisses on her knuckles and Buffy looked into his eyes as she fought to keep the tears from falling ... she was losing that battle.
 
“I’m alright …” he assured her. “No need for tears, pet …” he whispered to her softly.
 
Buffy nodded and looked up at the ceiling, trying to get her composure back. “I’m sorry I … I was so stupid, running right into their trap, getting you … hurt,” she stammered, apologizing again for her rash decision and thinking that ‘getting hurt’ didn’t begin to describe what he’d been through.
 
“And I’m sorry I didn’t keep you safe – wasn’t all blood and puppies for you, either, pet … so, that makes us even, yeah?” Spike questioned, squeezing her hands and pulling her eyes back down to meet his.
 
Buffy finally nodded solemnly and Spike released her hands. She gently outlined the scars on his chest and stomach again and blew out a long breath to try and refocus her mind away from the dungeon and to the here and now.
 
“No worries,” Spike interrupted her thoughts as she trailed her fingers over the tracks of the stitches on his abdomen. “Be gone ‘fore ya know it, they will. Only thing allowed to tarnish my hot, tight little body are Slayers…”
 
Buffy smiled and looked back into his eyes and let the love she saw in them wash away those thoughts of the dungeon and prophecies and pain that had infiltrated her mind. “I think we need to amend that rule … I’m the only Slayer allowed to leave any marks on you.”
 
“Mmmmm … just what did you have in mind, pet?” Spike asked seductively, waggling his eyebrows up and down.
 
Buffy laughed and resumed her exploration of his ‘hot, tight little body’ with her hands and eyes. “You’ll just have to wait and see…”

 

Spike’s muscles quivered and trembled under her delicate touch and he let himself get lost in the hunger and desire and longing that bloomed in her eyes. It was the same look Avengelyne had had all those years ago; he remembered those beautiful eyes of his fallen angel as being greener than any emerald ever mined and brighter than any star in the sky … and Buffy’s were exactly the same.
 
Buffy lifted her gaze from his body back to his eyes and felt herself falling into limpid, sapphire-blue pools of love and longing. “I still make you quiver …” she whispered, her voice raspy with yearning, as she descended deeper and deeper into the crystalline blue of his eyes and let his love surround her like a protective cocoon, keeping the rest of the world and all the badness away.
 
“Always…” Spike agreed, his voice deep and rumbly, full of his own growing need.
 
Buffy sat back on his legs and tugged the hem of her dress, lifting it slowly up over her head and off. Spike watched mesmerized by her golden skin and graceful movements as she revealed her body to him, inch by glorious inch. Unlike William, Spike had seen it … well, too many times to count, but like that very first night with Avengelyne, it still left him awestruck … left him wanting to explore every crease and crevasse, to kiss every beautiful inch, and caress every quivering nerve.
 
Spike ran his hands up from her strong thighs to the swell of her hips along the sides of the small bulge in her tummy where their baby was growing and up to her round breasts. His eyes following his hands as they worked their way slowly up her body, watching her skin tremble under his loving touch. Her skin looked that much more glorious in the dancing, golden, magical light that filtered in through the sheer curtains, and the thin sheen of perspiration that had suddenly appeared made her skin glisten in the soft light.
 
“I still make you tremble…” Spike murmured and Buffy moaned her agreement as his thumbs brushed lightly over her hard nipples as he cupped her full breasts in his hands, making her back arch and push against his touch, silently begging for more. There was no need for him to ask how she wanted to be touched as William had … he knew better than anyone every spot on her body that drove her insane, how a light touch could make her beg for more, how to tease her within an inch of her life. He loved nothing more than pulling the bowstring tighter and tighter, until it was dangerously near its breaking point, before releasing it with unbridled power and sending her hurtling blissfully across the sky … and more importantly, he knew she loved it too.
 
“Oh, God, Spike…” Buffy moaned as her head rolled back and she moved her hips, rubbing her wet panties against the rock hard erection still trapped in his pants. Spike sat up under her and captured one nipple with his teeth, holding it lightly between them and flicking his tongue against the hard, hot nub while he continued to caress her other breast with his palm and fingers. Spike could feel her riding the waves of ecstasy as they grew higher and higher with every flick of his tongue and touch of his hand. He loved making love to her sweet, full breasts, to her hot, hard, dusty-pink nipples. He loved the way the way her supple breasts felt under his palms, how hard and demanding the little nubs got with just a touch, how they tasted, how they bounced and swayed with every breath, every movement, how they could build the waves up and up and up until they crashed over her with the power of utter bliss.

 

Suddenly, Spike sucked down hard on the nipple he’d been teasing with his tongue and rolled the other between his thumb and forefinger and Buffy’s whole body tensed, her back arched, her hips pressed down against his hard-on as the wave she’d been riding engulfed her, sending ripple after ripple of rapture washing through her body, demanding to be released lest she drown in it. When the dam holding the rapture at bay burst, the animalistic scream that Spike loved so much escaped her throat as every conscious thought was swept away with the bliss that engulfed her.
 
Buffy dug her fingernails into Spike’s strong shoulders, anchoring herself to her own personal ‘wave machine’ as he continued sending a flood of euphoria surging through her. Finally, Buffy gasped for air and the tension in her body waned as the waves that enveloped her faded and became nothing more than small ripples tingling her skin. Spike slowed and softened his ministrations, changing to soft kisses and caresses of her hot, salty flesh as she came back down from the clouds.
 
Buffy took his face between her hands and lifted his mouth up to hers, devouring his tender lips with a burning desire that only Spike could spark in her. Spike wrapped his arms around her and pulled her bare chest against his, smashing those supple breasts and hard nubs against his solid chest as he let her ravage his mouth with hers. Her tongue probed in, tasting, exploring, wrapping around his like a boa that had been too long without a meal. Buffy moaned against his mouth greedily, hungrily … not for food, hungry for more, hungry for him.

 

Suddenly, Buffy dropped her hands from the side of his head where she’d been holding him, down to his shoulders and pushed him back violently, dropping him back onto the pillows that covered the floor. Buffy slid down his legs and unfastened his belt and pants with practiced ease. Spike watched the beautiful angel atop him turn into a ravenous huntress – her green eyes smoldered with glowing embers of desire, her breath came as fast, shallow gasps, her heart raced, pounding loudly in her chest and echoing in his ears, adrenaline pulsed through her body, and her yearning dampened her soft, pink folds and filled his nostrils with its lustful redolence. And, if she was the huntress, then he, most definitely, was the hunted … and that was perfectly fine with him.
 
Buffy freed Spike’s stiff, thick cock from his trousers and dropped her mouth on him hard and fast. Spike’s hips jerked under her and expletives escaped his throat unbidden as the mushroom head hit the back of her throat. “Bloody-fucking-hell! Fuck, Buffy … yes, so fucking …ahhhhh … shit! …good!”
 
The more he moaned and cursed and jerked under her, the harder Buffy sucked and licked and plunged down on him. She swirled her tongue back and forth, up and down his length as she began pumping him with her hand and lips … squeezing harder, jacking him faster, taking him deeper into her hot, hungry mouth until his exclamations turned into roars and growls, and deep, raspy gasps. When she raked her fingernails across his tight balls, past his taint, and down to his sensitive, puckered hole, teasing it with a light touch, Spike’s entire body tensed and he exploded into her. With a final howl of release that vibrated the undulating, magical walls of their sanctuary, making the golden light glimmer even more brightly, and caused the sheer curtains flutter wildly around them, the huntress captured her prey.
 
As she’d done with William, Buffy swallowed eagerly until his blissful spasms slowed and finally stopped. Spike reached down and pulled her off his cock and up his body, capturing her lips with his – knowing what he would find when his tongue delved into her mouth – his essence. Their tongues danced in a tempestuous tango, swirling around each other as his salty tang mingled with her sweet ambrosia and created his favorite flavor … Spuffy. He wondered if Häagen-Dazs would start offering that flavor? ‘X-rated’ ice cream … Mmmmm …‘Nectar of the Gods’…
 
Buffy pulled back and looked at him with a sexy, satisfied smile on her lips and Spike gazed up at her with unabashed adoration. This wasn’t the innocent, hesitant, awestruck William anymore; this was Spike, still awestruck by his fallen angel, but no longer hesitant and most definitely not innocent. William’s romantic heart, his strong soul, still thrummed beneath the surface … like an iceberg in the north Atlantic, the cocky, sexy, blond warrior wasn’t all there was to Spike … there was so much more underneath that you couldn’t see until you delved deeper.
 
Buffy had often wondered if she had been able to stay in 1890 if she would’ve been able to fit into that life or if she would have eventually hurt William even more. At that moment when William asked her to stay, she wanted to more than anything in the world – to be with him and their children, even in Victorian England, was so much more than she had … but would it have been enough as the years went by? Or would she have found herself still longing for Spike … would she have eventually resented William and a mundane life of quiet desperation?
 
Buffy laid her body down atop her husband, resting her head on his shoulder, and sighed as he wrapped his arms around her and held her tight. She’d never know the answer to that question, and that was probably best. She had her man back … her warrior, her lover, her husband, her friend. She had William’s heart and soul and she had Spike’s strength and wit and devotion … she had it all right here wrapped around her.
 
Spike stroked his hands softly up and down the bare skin of her back as she lay atop him. Her body heating his, her heart thudding against is chest, and her salty sweat dampening his skin all combined to transport him back in time … back to that one night that changed everything. The snow was falling all around them, but he distinctly remembered feeling overheated, nervous perspiration ran down his body, dampening his clothing, and his own heart threatened to beat right out of his chest as his angel showed him what love could be. And here she was … still showing him, still taking him to heaven, still giving everything to him, still pouring her love over him like sweet, golden honey.
 
What would’ve happened if she could’ve stayed with him in 1890 … if he had never met Dru? Spike smiled sadly and nuzzled against Buffy’s soft tresses as they fanned out over his bare skin, breathing in the scent of her. William would’ve had a tiger by the tail with Buffy … she’d shown him his inner animal, allowed him to embrace it, but would it have been enough to hold her? The life of a Victorian lady didn’t really suit this wildcat in his arms … eventually she would’ve grown tired of the monotony … tired of William, no matter how hard she tried not to. He knew she loved William’s tender, romantic heart … but she loved Spike’s swagger, his brazen style, and cocky, ‘devil may care’ attitude … and she loved being a Slayer. She would’ve lost all that if she’d stayed … there would be no way to stop the resentment from creeping in as the years passed by.
 
Spike pressed a soft kiss down on the top of her head and squeezed her even tighter. This is where she belonged … this is where they both belonged.
 
Buffy raised her head up and looked at him and Spike brushed her tousled hair back from her face. “I love you…” he whispered to her, letting his eyes wander over her flushed face and emerald eyes.
 
“Love you more…” Buffy teased with a smile.
 
“Not bloody likely…” Spike argued, smiling back at her.
 
Buffy shrugged her head slightly. “Prove it,” she challenged.
 
Spike smirked and flipped them over in one powerful move, making Buffy shriek in surprise. Spike kicked the rest of the way out of his pants and held himself over her with strong arms, his lips just a breath away from hers. “Gladly…” he whispered before closing the small gap, pulling her bottom lip into his mouth and teasing it with his teeth and tongue.
 
Buffy moaned when Spike trailed his mouth leisurely along her jawbone, dropping soft kisses all along its path, before finding the spot behind her ear that started fireworks bursting over her, tickling and heating her skin with bright, colorful sparks of desire. Buffy ran her hands up and down his bulging arms, to his shoulders and along his solid back. His soft, cool skin was in sharp contrast to the hard muscles beneath and her warm palms above. She loved the way his muscles felt under her fingers as they strained against gravity to hold his body over hers … every hill and valley they created in his body was like a wonderland for her fingers to explore.
 
Spike had set off on his own mission of exploration, trailing his mouth and tongue down from her neck to her collarbone before pausing in the soft hills and deep dale of her chest. He slid his tongue between the mountains, tasting the essence of her as her salty perspiration gathered in the valley. He followed the river slowly down to the sea … past the expanding rise of her stomach, over her bellybutton and then back down again towards the ‘Sea of Utopia’. Spike paused his exploration of his angel’s body when he met the barrier of her thong, which she’d never quite gotten around to shedding. It was all that was left between him and his quest to drown in the heavenly waves of her desire.
 
Spike sat back on his heels between her legs and rolled the stretchy fabric slowly down her outside thighs. Buffy lifted her legs up and rested them on his shoulders, then raised her bottom off the pillows as Spike continued to slide the silky, damp undergarment down her golden legs. When her scent engulfed him, his nostrils flared and his eyes closed as a deep, yearnful moan rumbled up from deep within. When he opened his eyes, he met Buffy’s in the flickering light of the magical shell surrounding their sanctuary and wondered just how many times he could drown in her before he’d lose the ability to surface again.
 
Buffy pushed up with one arm and continued where Spike had been thwarted, removing her thong and tossing it aside as he watched in silence, his senses on overload. Buffy settled her legs on either side of her husband, laid one hand gently on his cheek, and pressed her mouth against his ear. “I want you in me…” she whispered to him, her voice husky with desire, breaking Spike out of the trance that he’d descended into under her hypnotic and overpowering spell.
 
Buffy lay back on the soft pillows, pulling Spike down with her with one hand behind his neck. She wrapped her legs around his slim hips and Spike pressed his spell-bound erection against her wet folds, sliding it down her slit until it found the utopia it was searching for. Buffy gasped and her back arched up against him as he pressed into her wet heat slowly, their eyes locked onto each other as they both found the heaven they desired. This time Spike knew what he would see in her eyes … there was no fear of hurting the angel or seeing disdain flash in her eyes or of her spurning him … he knew there would be only joy and bliss and love reflected in their depths, along with a yearning matched only by his own.

 

“Oh, God … Spike …” Buffy moaned as she held to his strong shoulders and enveloped him in her velvet walls. Spike never got tired of hearing her moan his name … or scream it ... or whisper it, never got tired of watching her pupils dilate with unrestrained bliss, never got tired of sliding into her … drowning in her.
 
When Spike’s hips hit her flesh, with his rod buried to the root, he leaned down near her ear and whispered, “Love you … love you so much … je t'aime beaucoup.”
 
“Tons and tons…” Buffy agreed breathily as he started moving against her. At first pulling out as slowly as he’d pushed in, then slowly increasing his tempo and she matched him, rising up as he thrust down. Her pussy walls tightened around his cock with each thrust, each time his pubic bone crashed down on her clit sent thousands of electrical shocks out in all directions, curling her toes, tingling her core, and lifting her higher and higher on waves of bliss.
 
Spike dropped down to his elbows and slowed his movements. He ground down slowly, deliberately on her sensitive nub … then unhurriedly pulled up … nearly out, and then pressed back down again as he tangled his hands in her long, golden tresses and watched the waves of pleasure wash over her face. Again and again he teased her tight opening with the engorged head of his cock, before pressing down and grinding his pubic bone in slow circles against her clit as she moaned and writhed and trembled under him.
 
He had her on the edge of heaven … he could see it in her eyes, hear it in her heartbeat and her cries … feel it in her core, and he wanted nothing more than to send her flying across that blue sky … dancing in the clouds.
 
Cum for me, Avengelyne … don’t think … just be, Spike begged her through the bond as he raised back up to his hands over her and slammed into her with power and passion William could only imagine.

 

“Oh, fuck! Yes, Spike!” Buffy exclaimed at the sudden change as her body exploded and those small waves that had been washing over her turned into a tsunami while the tingling in her core turned to explosions that propelled her over the edge into heaven. Buffy’s whole body tensed and a soul-piercing scream escaped her throat as her soul soared like that angel she had pretended to be; up past the moon, past the sun, and into the Milky Way. She danced among the stars as if she were a celestial being … as if she belonged there … and Spike would’ve argued that she did … she was his angel, his goddess and she, above all else, belonged in the heavens.
 
Buffy’s pussy clenched Spike’s rod tightly, pulling him in deeper with each thrust he made against her until he could no longer fight the waves that were overwhelming him. Spike let go as Buffy’s scream of release surrounded him … drowning him in its power and opulence and he joined her high above the earth. The lovers soared through the galaxy, hand in hand they spun and twirled and flew with wild abandon as their bodies found the nirvana they’d been seeking in each other’s arms. They didn’t think … they just let themselves be what they both were at their core … primal, feral … human.
 
Buffy gasped for breath and Spike rained soft kisses over her face as they came back down from the heavens. His golden angel began laughing as Spike’s lips tickled her flushed skin with his butterfly kisses. Spike pulled back to look at her … she was exquisite, radiant … effulgent.
 
“Stay with me…” he whispered as he gazed wondrously into her eyes, feeling more like William at that moment than Spike.
 
Buffy smiled softly and touched his beautiful face lightly with her palm as William’s eyes beamed joyously with the delight of finding true love. “Always…” she agreed, lifting her lips to his.
 
The soft, golden light that surrounded them pulsed and sparkled brighter as the old memories were set adrift and elation replaced the regret and sorrow of that long ago night in the Common.
 
**~**

{{Click here to hear "Stay With Me” by Danity Kane on YouTube  }}

  
Raindrops, fall from, everywhere
I reach out, for you, but you’re not there
So I stood, waiting, in the dark
With your picture, in my hands
Story of a broken heart


Stay with me
Don't let me go
Cause I can’t be without you
Just stay with me
And hold me close
Because I've built my world around you
And I don’t wanna know what it’s like without you
So stay with me
Just stay with me


I'm trying and hoping, for the day
And my touch is enough
To take the pain away
Cause I’ve searched for so long
The answer is clear
I will be hoping we don't let it disappear


Stay with me
Don't let me go
‘Cause I can’t be without you
Just stay with me
And hold me close
Because I've built my world around you
And I don’t wanna know what it’s like without you
So stay with me
Just stay with me

I've searched over and over
For many, many times
For you and I is like those stars that light the sky every night
Our picture hangs out of tune
Remind me of the days
You promised me we'd always
Be and would never go away
That’s why I need you to stay

Stay with me
Don't let me go
‘Cause i can’t be without you
Just stay with me
And hold me close
Because I've built my world around you
And I don’t wanna know what it’s like without you
So stay with me
Just stay with me

oooo.. Oh
Don't leave
So I stay waiting in the dark...
End Notes:
TBC ... More to come, including the trip back to SunnyD and Bess meeting the rest of the clan. Hope everyone in the US has a wonderful 'Ritual Sacrafice With Pie' on Thursday ... and here's hoping you don't get tied to a chair ... unless you want to be! ;-)
Stay With Me, Reprise by Passion4Spike
Author's Notes:
Buffy and Spike start to realize the challenges they'll face with their jaded, century old, teenage daughter ...
**
Music Referenced:
Stay With Me, Colbie Caillat: http://youtu.be/WsuYTnetvxM
 **
ScreenCaps courtesy of ScreenCap Paradise: http://www.screencap-paradise.com/?cat=3
**
Tanks to 'epd4' for betaing this chapter.
(Next morning) Tuesday, May 3rd, 2010, 6:00am, Council Headquarters, London:

 

Giles sighed wearily and dropped his glasses onto the heavy desk he was sitting at before rubbing his blood-shot, bleary eyes. Last night, after Olivia had inspected the inventory of the Council building and assured him that she would contact her friend at the auction house and have a proper inventory and estimate done later in the week, they had gone to dinner then to her flat for a ‘nightcap’. Despite his heart … and certain other parts of his anatomy, wanting to stay and wake at her side in the morning, the nagging worry about all the issues that had been heaped upon him these last days forced him to crawl from her bed in the wee hours of the morning, leaving her with only a note to wake to.
 
He’d just finished looking through the last book in Travers’ office … searching for these prophecies that the Council Head kept spouting off about. Giles had previously heard of the Santos Veritas Prophecy and found it quoted in several volumes, including the most reliable, the Codex.
 
A seer of truth shall be born under the crescent moon, during the harvest’s bounty, on the day that falls one short of the month and the year. The seventh child, a daughter of fire, born to the fair, immortal warriors, guarded by the sign of Libra, shall see the truth through a veil of lies, uncover the darkness shrouded by the light, and possess the power to tip the scales.
 
He could not, however, find anything about ‘The Tetrad’ in the Codex or any other of the ancient tomes in the office. He looked down at his notes and read what he’d written, what the newly risen Travers had quoted to him, again …
 
To reap the harvest they have sown, she who brings forth The Tetrad from her loins must stand alone against the End of Days with neither friend nor foe nor kith nor kin betwixt her heart and the gaping maw of hell.
 
He’d read it so often, he could spew it like Travers had by now, but he read it again anyway, looking in vain for something that would tell him what it meant. He started with what he knew … ‘Tetrad’ meant ‘four’ … ‘she who brings the four from her loins’ … But hadn’t Travers just pointed out that Spike and Buffy have seven children? Isn’t that one of the points of the Santo Veritas prophecy?
 
“But Buffy didn’t birth all seven…” Giles muttered to himself. “She’s ‘brought forth from her loins’ only four … or soon to be four.”
 
Giles drew a line out from the word “Tetrad” on his paper and wrote: “Annie, Billy, Dani, and … Veritas.”
 
So, according to this, as yet unconfirmed and unnamed, prophecy, Buffy and Spike’s children ‘sow’ … or begin something that Buffy alone can reap … or finish. And to finish, she must stand alone against the ‘End of Days’. Giles closed his eyes, dropped his chin to his chest, and rubbed at the back of his neck. There were many references to the ‘end of days’ … nearly half the prophecies throughout history spoke of the end of days in one manner or another, but the way this prophecy spoke of it sounded like it could be a demon named ‘The End of Days’ rather than a point in time, which Buffy had to face alone. Giles had looked for a reference to a demon with that name, but could find none, although many demons promised to bring forth the ‘end of days’ one way or another, there were none, as yet, that actually called themselves that - at least that they knew of.
 
The part about ‘neither friend nor foe nor kith nor kin betwixt her heart…’ also left him with nothing but questions. Did it mean her physical heart or her emotional heart? Did it mean, as Travers inferred, that she would have to lose her family and friends, lose Spike, to defeat the demon or did it simply mean she would have to be physically alone for the battle?
 
Then there was the ‘gaping maw of hell’ … that was the only part seemed pretty straightforward, they lived on the gaping maw of hell … it was a short walk down into the basement of the high school.
 
Giles sighed again, slipped his glasses back on, and drank the last of his now cold tea then began gathering up his notes and the few books that actually spoke of the Santos Veritas Prophecy and put them in a box. He hadn’t told Buffy or Spike … or anyone, what Travers had said about the End of Days … he had hoped to get more information before dropping yet another worry into their laps, however, he was running out of ideas about where to look for said information.
 
His only consolation was that it seemed unlikely that that particular prophecy could be imminent … certainly not before the baby was born. And, since it sounded like ‘The Tetrad’ had to work together to do something, it would likely be many years after the birth of the ‘seer of truth’ before the four Weckerly offspring would be capable of working in harmony to fulfill a prophecy. At least, he hoped so.
 
**~**
 
9:30am, Clapham Common bandstand:
  
Buffy yawned and stretched her bare limbs as she awoke slowly from her satiated slumber. She hadn’t felt this well rested in ages, things were finally simmering down … a welcome change from the rolling boil that had been engulfing them for the last week or so. They had rescued Bess, eliminated the old Council and were working on putting in a new guard. Tonight she and Spike and Bess, along with the other Slayers, would fly home … she couldn’t wait to see Annie, Dani, and Billy and introduce them to their new sister. There would be a period of adjustment, no doubt, for everyone and they still needed to figure out a solution to their financial woes and help get the new Council Guidance Committee and Apocalypse Leadership Team in place … but things were improving and she was optimistic that they would be even better soon.
 
Spike’s cool, bare body was spooned against her back, his arm draped over her middle, his hand cupped protectively over their littlest bit. Buffy smiled and laid her hand over his as the memories of the previous night played in her mind. They had definitely made plenty of new, happy memories in the bandstand to replace the angst-ridden ones from 1890. Buffy looked around the pavilion. The sheer curtains hung loose around the perimeter, the breeze that had billowed through them the previous night was now still. The glittering, golden wall that surrounded the bandstand undulated slowly now, its movement barely perceivable, as the barrier kept prying eyes and people out of their magical sanctuary.
 
Spike stirred behind her and cuddled closer against her back before dropping a soft, sleepy kiss on her shoulder. Buffy’s stomach grumbled in hunger and suddenly she felt the baby kick … it was the first time their little miracle had expressed its opinion on such matters.

 

“Got another footballer, we do,” Spike commented with a proud smile as he rubbed his palm over the growing bulge in his wife’s stomach.
 
Buffy laughed. “Or the next Coney Island Hotdog eating champion…” she speculated as her stomach continued to rumble and the baby seemed to wiggle and squirm in agreement.

 

“Well then, better get that bit some nosh,” Spike suggested, stretching his lean body out with a deep moan before sitting up in the sea of pillows and looking for his clothes. “What time is it, anyway?” he wondered as he found his pants and stood up to pull them on.
 
Buffy stood up slowly and finally located her purse buried under a pile of the richly colored pillows. She pulled her cell phone out and her eyes went wide. “Oh my God! It’s almost ten! Bess and Giles are gonna think we fell in the river!
 
“We need to get going,” Buffy continued as she found her dress and pulled it back on then began looking for her shawl, thong, and shoes. “I still have to pack and get this wrap back to Olivia, and Giles wanted one more meeting before we left …”
 
“No worries, luv … got plenty of time for all that,” Spike assured her as he pulled his shirt on and began looking for his shoes.
 
As Spike was buttoning his shirt Buffy’s eyes went wide with fear. “Oh no…” she murmured, walking up to him and laying a hand on the scar on his chest. Her eyes met his … he still didn’t realize what …
 
“The Gem…” he mumbled, sighing heavily and lifting his face up to the ceiling. “The bloody sun’s out…” He’d gotten so used to ignoring that warning that tingled down his spine, so used to having the Gem, he’d completely forgotten to plan for how he’d get back to the hotel this morning.

 

“What are we gonna do?” Buffy asked, looking around for some kind of blanket or heavy cloth that he could use for cover but there was nothing like that … just the pillows. Maybe if he used a couple of the larger ones …
 
“I’ll haveta stay ‘ere … you go back to the hotel … or maybe there’re some shops … get a heavy blanket, yeah?” Spike began, running a hand through his curls as he started pacing back and forth. “Then find the nearest sewer entrance to ‘ere.” He hadn’t had to fear the sun in so long, he’d nearly forgotten how he used to get around in the daytime. “Can you find your way there and back?”
 
Buffy rolled her eyes as she pulled her shoes on. “Yes! They don’t call me ‘Douglas Corrigan’ for nothing…”
 
Spike laughed nervously. “Yeah, that’s what I’m afraid of, pet.”
  
**~**
 
When Buffy exited the bandstand, the sun was shining brightly … what happened to all that London fog? Of course, there would be no fog or grey skies on this day! She stopped a woman who was pushing a baby in a pram along the footpath and asked if she knew of anywhere nearby Buffy could buy bedding … the woman looked at her a little strangely, but shook her head ‘no’, so Buffy asked which way the closest Tube was. The woman pointed towards the south … in the opposite direction they’d come from. Buffy hoped the woman was right as she took off running as fast as she could down the footpath the woman had indicated.
 
It wasn’t too far before she saw the sign for the Underground and sighed in relief as she sprinted past joggers and runners who all looked a little put off by the girl wearing a fancy black dress and high heels who was outrunning them. Suddenly, just as Buffy was about to enter the Tube station, a thick bank of fog rolled in … seemingly from nowhere. She stopped abruptly and looked around … the whole area seemed to be totally blanketed with the damp, grey mist, the sun completely blotted from the sky.


 
Buffy turned around and sprinted back the way she’d come, nearly getting hit by a passing car as she crossed the street just outside the Tube entrance as she was unable to see it and they were unable to see her in the pea soup that surrounded them. Back at the bandstand, the fog persisted and was just as thick, keeping the deadly rays of the sun at bay. She started to run through the magical barrier, which from the outside looked like nothing at all … like the bandstand was there, but was empty, but she was knocked backwards when she hit it and landed hard on her backside.
 
“Owww!” she exclaimed, checking her nose for blood as she stood back up and brushed her dress off. “That wasn’t very nice…” she muttered, thinking that must be what the home barrier vampires encounter must feel like.
 
“Spike!” she called. “Come out! It’s ok …” Buffy waited a few moments, but he didn’t appear, then it dawned on her … they couldn’t hear the outside world from in there.
 
Spike? she tried again through the bond, hoping the magic didn’t block that too.
 
Lost already, are you? Spike replied, only half teasing.
 
Ha ha – you really should check on being a stand-up comic when we get home … Buffy quipped sarcastically, rolling her eyes. Come out – it’s ok … the sun’s behind the fog.
 
Within a few moments, Spike emerged from the seemingly empty bandstand, looking around warily. “I was sure the sun was out … I could feel it,” he commented as he pretended to cut the thick fog with his hand.
 
“It was … now it’s not. Let’s go before it comes back,” Buffy urged him, turning back towards the south and starting back to the Tube station at the south edge of the Common.
 
“Give us a minute, luv,” Spike requested, turning back towards the magical glamour around the pavilion. Spike pulled another leather satchel from his pocket, opened it and poured sparkling emerald green dust into his palm. As he began blowing it from his hand, the barrier dropped, revealing their jewel-toned sanctuary inside. Spike went back up the steps and began spreading the remaining magic dust around the room. As he scattered the dust, the pillows and curtains vanished and the remaining tatters of the golden barrier that still remained on the other side of the pavilion dropped completely.
 
Buffy saw the plate of food she’d saved for Bess sitting on the tray near the oven. “Wait!” she exclaimed just before he got to the food with the glittering green dust.
 
Buffy rushed up the steps and grabbed the plate of food before allowing him to continue.
 
Buffy stood at the top of the steps and sighed with a mixture of melancholy and contentment as Spike finished clearing the bandstand. She was sorry to see everything go, but glad for the time that they’d spent there, they really had made a night of wonderful memories to, if not replace, at least temper, balance out, the old ones. Buffy turned and looked down at the floor as she started back down the steps, but she stopped abruptly as confusion furrowed her brow. Buffy knelt down and ran one hand over the spot in the stone that she had cracked with her fist back in 1890 when guilt and frustration and misery had consumed her, the crack that had still been there when they arrived a few hours ago. The fissure in the stone was gone – completely healed.
 
Spike walked up to her and watched her hand slide back and forth over the smooth stone of the floor. She looked up at him and their eyes met and Buffy felt a serene joy wash over her. Just like their hearts had been healed, so had the evidence of their pain that had persisted for more than a century in the cold stone. Now the only physical reminder of that night which remained was a joyous one – the baby … Spike’s plan had worked perfectly.

 

Buffy smiled softly as she stood up and hooked her arm in his and they headed down the stairs together this time, without tears, without guilt, without remorse … with only a promise to stay … forever.
 
Suddenly, a cold breeze washed over the pair. Before they could even question it, the damp mist in the air turned into freezing rain then just as quickly changed again and a flurry of snowflakes began to fall from dark grey clouds. Buffy began to laugh as the snow fell even harder and crunched under their feet as they walked down the footpath towards the Underground. Spike held his hand out to catch the falling snow, awestruck by the unpredictable whim of nature. Snow in London in May? That would surely be one for the record books.
 
“We better hurry before she gets caught,” Buffy advised, lifting her face up to the clouds like a child and catching some of the frozen crystals in her mouth and on her outstretched tongue as they walked, her right hand still resting in the crook of Spike’s left arm.
 
“She?” Spike questioned. “Mother Nature?”

“Nope.” Buffy shook her head, dislodging the flakes that had settled there before looking at him with a contented smile.

  

“Wanda…” she clarified, leaning against his side and wrapping her arm around his waist and he did the same, settling his hand on her opposite hip. They walked arm in arm the rest of the way to the Underground in the snow … it was the perfect ending to a perfect night and a perfect new beginning for their littlest bit.
 

**~**
 
Since the sun was back out when they arrived at their destination near the hotel, Spike and Buffy parted at the Baker Street Underground station, Spike stayed underground and headed to the Council headquarters building via the sewers and deep level tunnels and Buffy headed above ground, going back to the hotel to change. She’d get Bess and they’d meet him at the headquarters building later.
 
Buffy had eaten the leftover cottage pie on the train, but had managed to save most of the treacle pudding and two of the candy cane biscuits for Bess. She was still hungry, but at least that had stopped her stomach from rumbling and satisfied the baby for a little while. She’d stop in and give the sweets to Bess, then order room service and get a shower and change. She might even have time to get some packing done before they had to head out for the early afternoon meeting Giles had wanted at the headquarters building. Their plane left that night, well after dark and would follow the night home to California.
 
As Buffy knocked on Bess’ hotel room door, she could hear Monty Python playing on the TV and Bess laughing. It was good to hear the girl laugh; Buffy hoped they’d hear a lot more of that now that she was free. Bess opened the door dressed in a too big, ‘Hard Rock Café – London’ t-shirt and apparently nothing else.

 

“Hi Buffy!” she greeted her cheerfully.
 
“Hey … looks like you’re in a good mood today,” Buffy observed, handing Bess the plate of food. “Brought you something …”
 
Bess took the plate, her eyes going wide when she saw the candy cane cookies and sweet pudding. “Thank you!” Bess exclaimed, picking up one of the cookies and taking a bite.
 
“You’re welcome. I’m gonna order room service, do you want anything?” Buffy asked as she turned across the hall to her room and began to unlock the door.
 
“No, thank you,” Bess replied, picking up some of the pudding with her fingers, tilting her head back, and dropping it into her mouth.
 
“Ok … well, be ready to head to the Council building at about noon, ok?” Buffy requested.
 
“Sure .. noon,” Bess agreed, stepping back in her room and starting to close the door.
 
Suddenly, a huge cartoon light bulb started flashing wildly over Buffy’s head. She hadn’t gotten Bess a ‘Hard Rock Café’ t-shirt …
 
Buffy turned around just as Bess was closing the door. “Bess!” she called, stepping back across the hall.
 
“Where did you get that shirt?” Buffy asked, as Bess opened the door back up.
 
Bess looked down at the shirt and shrugged. “From Jack … or John… maybe Jake?” she answered, trying to remember.
 
“Who is Jack or John or maybe Jake?” Buffy wondered.

 

“He’s a waiter … he works in the restaurant downstairs.”
 
“Aaaand …. You have his t-shirt on because…??” Buffy prodded.




 
“He said I looked good in it,” Bess replied with a bright smile. Suddenly, from behind Bess, Buffy heard someone snoring loudly … nearly drowning out Michael Palin on the TV exclaiming … “Nobody expects the Spanish Inquisition!”

"Oh. My. God,” Buffy gawped, pushing past Bess and into her room. Sure enough, ‘Jack, John, or maybe Jake’ was tangled up in the sheets, laying on his stomach and sleeping like a rock in Bess’ bed, one bare leg, hip, and butt cheek peeking out from the white linens.
 
Buffy turned around to look at Bess. “You … slept with him?! Are you kidding me? Why would you do that? You don’t even know his name!”
 
Bess shrugged and closed the door. “He’s cute.”
 
“Cute? He’s cute?” Buffy stammered, looking between Bess and … ‘J’.
 
“I think I broke him, though … he’s been asleep forever and he keeps making that funny noise. I’ve been waiting for him to heal and wake up but …” Bess shrugged again.
 
“You broke him?” Buffy questioned worriedly, looking at the boy who couldn’t have been more than nineteen.


 
Buffy looked back at Bess. “Bess – he’s human – he doesn’t just go to sleep a few hours and heal. How did you break him? You didn’t bite him did you?”
 
Bess shook her head. “No … no biting allowed; no fighting, no biting, vaginal first … I know the rules.”
 
“So how did you break him?”
 
Bess shrugged. “I don’t know … we were having a good time, but then, after a while he ran out of those funny glove things and he just closed his eyes and started making that strange noise …”
 
“That ‘strange noise’ is a snore… people do it when they’re sleeping,” Buffy informed her. “You never heard a snore before?”
 
Bess shook her head. “Not that I remember. Vampires don’t snore, I guess…”
 
Buffy rolled her eyes. “That’s true … that is one upside to being undead and not needing to breathe. What are ‘funny glove things’?”
 
Bess walked to the side of the bed and began picking up used condoms from the wastebasket. One, two, three, four, five … holding them up for Buffy to see.
 
Buffy's eyes went wide as she shook her head in disbelief then blew out a long breath. Bess had drained him all right … but not with her fangs.
 
Buffy walked over to the exhausted young man and shook his shoulder. “Hey – sleeping beauty! Time to go home,” she informed him, but was met with only a moan.
 
“Jack! John! Jake!” she tried, shaking his shoulder harder. “Get up!”
 
The cute, sleepy fellow opened his eyes slowly and rolled over onto his back, uncovering his chest and abs in the process and wrapping the sheet tightly around his slim hips. He rubbed his eyes with his fingers to get the sleep out before stretching his arms over his head and yawning.
 
“C’mon, buddy … time to go,” Buffy said again.
 
The young man focused on her, then looked at Bess … then back to Buffy again as a saucy smile came to his lips. “You’re a little late to the dance, luv … but I’ll do my best to satisfy,” he offered seductively, running his hand down under the sheets.
 
Buffy picked up his jeans from the floor by the bed and tossed them at him. “I’m not your ‘luv’ and there will be no more dancing. Get up, get out.”
 
Jack-John-Jake looked at her with confusion, then turned to Bess. “Your sister’s not much fun, luv. Why don’t you ditch her and we can pick up…”
 
“Hey, Casanova!” Buffy interrupted him, snapping her fingers in front of his face. “I’m not her sister, I’m her mother and it’s time for you to go.”
 
“Mother!?” the young man exclaimed, his eyes going wide as he sat up in the bed and started pulling his jeans on, trying to keep the sheet over his groin area as he did so. “I swear she said she was eighteen! Showed me ‘er passport! I swear to Mother Mary Margaret it said she was eighteen!” he explained quickly as he stood up and fastened his pants then started frantically looking for his shoes and socks.
 
The young man hurried to the door, one shoe on, still carrying his socks and the other shoe. “Oh!” Bess called from behind him. “Your shirt!”
 
“Keep it, luv … still looks better on you,” he called back, turning his head and giving her a wink as he headed out the door and into the hallway.
 
Bess sighed, a small smile coming to her lips as she hugged her arms around her torso and the t-shirt as the door slammed behind the bewildered young man. “I guess he wasn’t broken, after all. I wish I’d known that earlier…”

 

“Bess, sweetheart … you … you can’t be sleeping with just any … ‘Jack, John, or  maybe Jake’ that comes along, no matter how cute they are,” Buffy tried to explain.
 
“Why not? He liked it, I liked it … we had fun,” Bess pointed out.
 
“Because … well … it could be dangerous for one thing,” Buffy stammered. “You didn’t even know his name! He could’ve been Jack the Ripper or Ted Bundy for all you knew.”
 
“Jack the Ripper’s dead…” Bess pointed out. Even she knew that; she didn’t know who Ted Bundy was.
 
Buffy rolled her eyes. “I’m just saying … bringing boys home that you don’t even know could be dangerous.”
 
“I’m a Slayer turned vampire with the Gem of Amarra … how could bringing a boy home be dangerous?”
 
“Well … yeah … ok… there’s that,” Buffy stammered again. “But it’s just … you don’t want boys to think you’re easy, do you?”
 
“You are … why can’t I be?” Bess argued.
 
“I am not!” Buffy defended.
 
“How many times did you have sex with Spike last night?” Bess wondered.  
 
“That’s different … we’re married and in love … you didn’t even know that boy’s name, for goodness sake!” Buffy explained, waving her hand at the closed door the young man had made his hasty exit through.
 
“Oh … so you didn’t have sex until you were married?” Bess challenged.
 
“Well…no…” Buffy admitted.
 
“Then you were in love with Spike before you had sex with him?”
 
“Ummmm… no, but…” Buffy sputtered.
 
“Then I don’t see how it’s all that different … it doesn’t seem fair to me that you get to have fun, but I don’t,” Bess continued to argue, a pout coming to her lips.
 
“Bess … honey, I’m not saying that. I’m just saying, having sex with someone should mean something … there should be mutual respect … you should at least have something in common,” Buffy pointed out.
 
“We had lots in common, we liked making each other feel good, he was cute and warm, he thought I was pretty … he even liked Monty Python and he liked me. Didn’t you think he was cute?” Bess wondered.
 
“Yeah … cute enough I guess… if you like that blue-eyed, mussed hair, hard-body, boyish Brad Pitt look,” Buffy acquiesced. “I don’t really go for that look myself…”

 

“Well, you didn't have to sleep with him. I thought he was cute,” Bess contended, missing Buffy’s sarcasm. “So, what are we even talking about? What’s your actual objection? What’s your point?” Bess questioned, her hands going to her hips.

“The point is …” Buffy sighed and looked up at the ceiling as she prayed for the answer to that question to strike her, shaking her head in frustration. What was the point? What was her objection? Apart from the fact that this was her daughter, what was the difference between what Bess did and what millions of other people do every Friday and Saturday night in clubs and bars the world over? She met a guy, she brought him home, they had fun. No one was hurt … two consenting adults. Was sex with someone you love better? For Buffy it was, but if she had asked Faith a week ago, she would’ve disagreed – Faith may still disagree, despite her admission that she wanted to find love.  Faith’s favorite saying sprang to Buffy’s mind: ‘Sex without love is an empty experience; but as empty experiences go, it's one of the best!’ What was the harm in just having fun? It’s not like Bess was gonna be killed or even hurt by a guy, and she couldn’t catch anything or get pregnant – Travers had pretty much proven that.

Buffy looked back at her daughter and tried to remember that she was an adult … she may look like a teenager, but she was three-quarters of a century older than Buffy was and she’d definitely paid her dues. Didn’t she deserve some ‘fun’? Didn’t she deserve sex on her terms for a change, with a cute, warm guy that snored?
 
“The point is …” Buffy finally answered her question. “…you should get his name so you know what to call him in the morning to wake him up.”
 
**~**
 
Bess and Buffy arrived at the Council building at about half past twelve. Buffy left Bess and went to find Spike who was supposed to be waiting for her in the training room … she needed to tell him about Bess and … Jack-John-Jake before he heard it from their daughter, and she needed to do it in person, not through the bond. Buffy found him sprawled out on a pile of mats in one corner of the room – asleep. Buffy closed the door quietly and walked as silently as she could across the hardwood floor. A small smile played on her lips as she stood next to his make-shift bed as the events of the previous night fluttered happily through her mind.
 
She snorted a small laugh and muttered, “At least he doesn’t snore,” under her breath.
 
Spike opened his eyes when she spoke and looked up at her. “Unlike you…”
 
“‘Unlike me’ what?” Buffy questioned.
 
“I don’t snore … unlike you,” Spike clarified, sitting up.
 
“I do not snore!” Buffy argued.

 

“P-leaase!” Spike exclaimed as he stood up. “You snore like a bloody freight train … wake the dead, you do … literally.”
 
“You are such a liar!” Buffy accused, her eyes wide with indignation.
 
Spike shrugged. “Fine, don’t believe me – ask Lemon Drop when we get ‘ome. She said she couldn’t sleep the whole time you were at Red’s ‘cos she thought you turned into a grizzly bear in your sleep.”
 
Buffy opened her mouth, sputtering, sucking air then gasping it out – completely speechless for a moment. “I sooo do not snore. You just made that up – you don’t think I’ll ask her.”
 
Spike shrugged again. “It’s ok, pet … I don’t mind sleeping with a grizzly bear; I’ve kinda gotten used to it now.”
 
Buffy stood speechless, shaking her head. “I do not snore,” she stated unequivocally, giving him a look that dared him to argue with her.
 
“Whatever you say, pet,” Spike concurred with a smirk. She was so easy to rile up … almost too easy sometimes. “I assume your snoring isn’t what you wanted to talk to me about…”
 
“Since I don’t snore, that would be a world of no …” Buffy agreed. What did she want to talk to him about? He’d gotten her so off track she’d nearly forgotten … oh yeah, Bess and … the snorer.
 
“It’s about Bess,” Buffy began hesitantly. “She … ummm … well, when I got back she’d … uhhh … sort of … taken up with one of the waiters from the hotel restaurant…”
 
Spike’s brows rose. “‘Taken up with’?” he questioned. “As in …?”

 

“As in … he was snoring in her bed when I got there…” Buffy blurted out quickly, making a face like the messenger would be killed or, at the very least, yelled at.
 
“Oh bloody hell…” Spike moaned, plopping back down on the mats and running a hand through his still curly hair.
 
“I tried to tell her that it wasn’t a great idea … but … ummmm … well, she felt otherwise and she made some valid points and … well, now I’m not so sure she’s totally wrong,” Buffy stammered out, then stood waiting for the explosion to come from her husband.
 
Spike dropped his chin to his chest and rubbed a hand on the back of his neck as he shook his head slowly.
 
After a few moments of silence, Buffy ventured, “Aren’t you going to say anything?”
 
Spike looked up at her with resignation in his eyes, still shaking his head. “Not sure what to say, pet. She’s a hundred bloody years old … I can’t stop ‘er if that’s what she wants t’ do. I just wish she’d …” Spike sighed and looked down at his hands which he’d dropped down on his thighs and shook his head again.
 
Buffy sat down on the mats next to him and rubbed a hand up and down his back and Spike closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. “I just worry that she’ll fall in with the wrong bloke … she’s got no confidence … no real experience with … with relationships … she hasn’t got a single buggering clue what love is, Buffy,” Spike tried to explain his fears. He turned his head and looked at his wife. “I wish she’d take time to find out who she is before she … ‘takes up’ with a bloody git.”

 

“Well … she seemed pretty confident to me…” Buffy offered. “Said she deserved to have fun.”
 
“Smoke an’ mirrors …” Spike snorted. “Right bloke comes along … he’ll play her like a bloody Stradivarius. Wrap ‘er round his finger … make her think he loves ‘er … Buffy, if she actually falls in love … gives her heart to the wrong person and gets her trust betrayed … I don’t know if she’ll ever recover from it.”
 
“Everyone has their heart broken at least once … gets their trust betrayed,” Buffy pointed out.
 
“Yeah, pet … but Bess … she trusted me – her father, and I let her down; she trusted the Weatherfords and I’m sure, in her mind, they let her down; she trusted her Watcher … he let her down. I just don’t know how many more let downs she can take without turnin’ to stone.”
 
Buffy blew out a long breath and nodded, leaning against Spike’s side and he wrapped an arm around her. “So, what do we do?”
 
Spike shrugged slightly. “Try to help her find herself … help her gain confidence … build her self-esteem. We show her that we love her, that she’s part of our family, that she has worth, and …” Spike paused and shook his head again. “…it wouldn’t hurt to make sure the backdoor’s shut and locked tight,” Spike quipped before dropping a kiss on Buffy’s forehead.
 
Buffy snorted a soft laugh. Giving a cat a bath was starting to look like a breeze compared to raising kids … especially century old teenage ones.
 
**~**
 
“So, we’ve got very good news from the man at the auction house this morning,” Giles announced to Faith, Buffy, Spike, Wes, and Bess in the meeting later that afternoon as he stood at the head of the table in the conference room. “He’s quite certain that we will be able to cover the expense for cargo ship transport of all the Council documents and the extensive library to California by selling most of the furnishings and artwork. His team will begin cataloguing the inventory tomorrow and should be able to put together an auction within the month.
 
“We will place the castle outside London, along with all its furnishings, up for sale with a real estate agent shortly, and do the same with this building shortly after the auction is complete,” Giles continued explaining the plan he and Wes had come up with.
 
“This will, hopefully, allow us enough funding to procure a suitable headquarters in Sunnydale and, with any luck, we will also have funds available to continue paying Slayers and Watchers their salaries for the foreseeable future. We will, however, need to formulate a long term funding plan to keep the Council viable …” he advised. “Once we have the Governing Committee in place, we can address that situation.”
 
“So I guess that means health insurance is out of the question,” Buffy surmised, rubbing a hand over her stomach.
 
Giles sighed. “I’m afraid so … there’s simply insufficient funding within the Council coffer and, of course, the Slayer Trust Fund that we set up some years ago from your life insurance proceeds ran dry about two years ago…” Giles explained.
 
Buffy sighed and nodded … she’d pretty much figured that already, but just had to ask to be sure.
 
“Who are ya gonna use to get all them bloody books up from the catacombs? If you’re already paying Slayers, why not use them instead of hiring….” Spike began to suggest.


“What catacombs?” Giles and Wes both questioned at once, interrupting him.
 
Spike and Buffy’s eyes met across the table. “Didn’t you tell ‘im?” Spike questioned her.
 
“No … I thought … I assumed … actually, I forgot … shit…” Buffy moaned, looking up at Giles. “There are … ummmm … really lots of books and other stuff stored down in the tunnels under the sewers. From the looks of it, it’s all Council stuff.”
 
“Can you perhaps be a bit more specific than ‘really lots’?” Wes wondered.
 
Buffy looked at Spike and he shrugged. “Lots and lots?” she offered with a grimace, looking back at Wes.

 

“Oh, good heavens…” Giles moaned, dropping his glasses onto the table and sitting back down in his seat heavily as he rubbed his exhausted eyes. How did wrenches always end up being thrown willy-nilly into his best laid plans? He was starting to understand what Spike must feel like most of the time.
 
Buffy and Spike took the group down into the dungeon, out the heavy metal doors that they’d originally come in through, and into the deep level tunnels that ran under the city and showed them the ‘lots and lots’ of boxes filled with ‘lots and lots’ of … stuff. Mostly books, scrolls, and diaries, some were duplicates of tomes that were in the library proper, but others were not. They also found one tunnel that was filled, floor to ceiling, with an assortment of magical supplies and sundries of the occult, all of which would need to be catalogued and researched before being sold. Giles would have to recalculate all his figures to accommodate moving all the books that were in the tunnels, which he was sure eclipsed the library itself by tenfold, at least. They were going to have to come up with a new plan to fund the Council payroll … and pretty quickly. The money Giles thought would be ‘left over’ after the move to carry them through for a while had just gotten gobbled up like pac-dots in a Pac-Man game.



 
**~**
 
As Wes punched the button in the archaic elevator to go back upstairs, Buffy thought something was wrong and looked around. “Where’s Bess?” she questioned after scanning the group in the lift.
 
Spike stuck his hand between the nearly closed doors of the elevator and, after they closed briefly on his palm, they began to slowly open again. “I’ll find ‘er … you go ahead.”
 
“Are you sure?” Buffy asked worriedly, looking through the open doors that lead to the long hallway of the dungeon cellblock, the place where the ghosts of their living nightmare still dwelled.
 
“Yeah … no worries. Be right behind ya,” Spike assured her as he stepped out of the lift and started down towards the cells.
 
Buffy nodded at Wes and he punched the button again to close the doors. Buffy sighed as the ancient lift heaved and jerked before finally starting its trek back up, she’d be happy to never have to ride this contraption again.
 
Spike walked slowly down the deserted corridor of the dungeon. Nothing remained of the vamps that had been here but piles of dust; no witness to the battle that had raged here between the Slayers and the guards remained, no proof of the pain that he and Buffy had endured except blood soaked into the dirt on the floor and spattered on the walls. Spike found Bess at the end of the hallway in the white room. Someone had righted the tables in the center of the room and she was walking slowly around them, running her fingers lightly across the padded tops, her eyes gazed unseeing down at the floor.

 

Spike stopped in the doorway and watched her in silence for a long while as she slowly circled the tables again and again. How many hours had she spent in this room over the last century? How much had she endured? How strong had she been to just survive without completely losing her mind?
 
“I had sex with a boy last night,” Bess said quietly as she continued her trek around the tables, her eyes unfocused, still trailing her fingers over the padded tops. “He was my first.”
 
Spike pursed his lips together and pondered that a moment, finally realizing that the git from the hotel was the first she’d chosen to have sex with of her own free will.
 
“Buffy said it was … dangerous …” Bess snorted a soft laugh. “She said having sex with someone should mean something … I don’t know what it’s supposed to mean,” she admitted, finally stopping and looking up at Spike. “Does it have to mean something?”
 
Spike blew out a breath and moved into the room towards her. “No … not right now,” Spike assured her as he stepped up to the opposite side of the tables from her. “Sex can be … sex – it’s easier that way, yeah? Sex with meaning … with love, it’s bloody frightening. More frightening than anything you’ve ever met ‘ere…” he told her, waving his arm around to encompass the room.
 
“I’ve had both in m’ life … and I can tell you that when it means something it’s … bloody brilliant. Sex without attachments… it … it burns you good, yeah? But sex with love,” Spike stopped and shook his head as he tried to think how to describe it. “Sex with love engulfs your whole being in the fire … it lifts you higher than you ever thought possible, it makes you want to stay in that place forever.”
 
Bess shrugged. “I stayed here forever …” she pointed out.
 
“Not the same, pet. Staying somewhere ‘cos you have to and wanting to stay somewhere more than anything else in the world … there’s no comparison – it’s not the same.”
 
Bess looked back down at the table in front of her and idly ran her hand back and forth across the vinyl covering, swaying slightly as she did so. “I want to stay with you and Buffy,” she admitted, as she kept her eyes on her hand as it made a small arc back and forth on the tabletop. “Is that what … meaning feels like?”
 
Spike smiled softly and stepped around the tables over to her. “Yeah, Buttercup … that’s meaning. Does it frighten you?”
 
Bess shrugged slightly, still looking down at the table.
 
“It’s ok if it does… nothing wrong with bein’ scared, pet,” Spike advised as he got near her.
 
Bess looked up at him as she swallowed back tears. “Will you send me away again?”
 
Spike furrowed his brow in confusion and shook his head. “No, pet … I … I …” Spike stammered. “I’d never send you away,” he assured her finally.
 
Bess looked back down at the table. “What if … the others don’t like me?”
 
“They will,” Spike asserted.
 
The century old child looked back up at him, barely contained tears in her eyes. “What if they don’t? What if … I’m not good enough?”
 
“Bess … Elizabeth … you could never not be good enough, pet. You’re my blood, Buffy’s blood … we love you exactly the way you are,” Spike contended, stepping a little closer to her.
 
Bess frowned and hugged her arms around her torso as she turned away from him. There were those feelings again, billowing softly through her mind. Was that the meaning everyone kept talking about? “I had the same blood before and I wasn’t good enough… you sent me away … sent us all away,” she pointed out with a half shrug.
 
“No, pet … it wasn’t you that wasn’t good enough,” Spike explained as he stepped up to her and put his hands on her shoulders. “It was me. Bess, I’d do anything in the world to change what happened … I’d give m’ life right now to take back what happened to you. You were always good enough … it was me that wasn’t worthy, luv.
 
“Bess, listen to me,” Spike requested, turning her around to face him. He lifted her chin with one finger and she brought her eyes up to meet his. “You are perfect,” he told her adamantly. “I love you. Buffy loves you. No one’s gonna send you away.”

 

Bess pursed her lips together and averted her eyes, looking past him. His eyes seemed to penetrate her soul … they made that soft breeze blow stronger, made her want desperately to believe him … this must be the thing everyone kept talking about, because it was scaring her to death. What if she couldn't live up to their expectations? What if she didn't fit in? What if ...
 
“Did I tell you I’d get you outta here?” Spike questioned softly.
 
Bess nodded solemnly, still keeping her eyes averted, looking past him.
 
“And we did, yeah?”
 
Bess nodded again.
 
“Now I’m tellin’ ya that we love you and no matter what, we’d never send you away,” Spike repeated his promise.
 
Spike stood silent, holding her by the shoulders as she shifted uncomfortably under his gaze, never looking directly at him, her arms still wrapped tightly around herself.
 
Bess’ chin quivered and a tear slid down her cheek, despite her best efforts to stop it. She’d dreamt of going home since the day Harold Travers had taken her away to England. She’d long ago given up on that ever happening, and this wasn’t the home that she’d dreamt of with Wanda and John, Anne and William – but it was a home. A home with parents and siblings, a home with … love. Love and hope. Love, she realized, was that soft breeze in her mind … love was the zephyr that sprinkled a cool mist of hope across the parched desert of her soul. That hope, however, was the thing that scared her most of all. Dashed hopes had crushed her heart more than once in her life...
 
Finally, she turned her frightened blue eyes back to his strong, penetrating ones. “You promise you’ll stay?” she asked, her voice sounding very much like the lonely, confused, and scared child that had been taken away from her family to stand alone against the demons.
 
“Always,” Spike promised, pulling her into a hug and dropping a kiss into the soft curls on the top of her head.
 
 **~**

{{Click here to hear "Stay With Me” by Colbie Caillaton YouTube  }}

 We simply fit together like a piece of apple pie,
I will be vanilla ice cream and I'll sing you lullabies,
I will love you in the moonlight and I'll love you in the day, always.

I love the time we spend, like a watch from an old friend,
I will help you keep your smile, promise me you'll stay a while,
I will come to you in need and I'll help you when I can, when I can.

Stay with me, promise me you're never gonna leave,
Stay with me, let's try to be the best that we can be,
and take our time.

We always joke together after we're rolling on the floor.
I like the way you dance around when you're running for the door.
I will come to visit you even when we're old and gray, always.
I love the way you make me feel, when you're asleep I'll take the wheel,
Make sure to call when you get home, when you're driving on the road.

I will come to you in need and I'll help you when I can, when I can, so..

Stay with me, promise me you're never gonna leave,
Stay with me, let's try to be the best that we can be,
and take our time.

I will come to you in need and I'll help you when I can, I will help you when I can,
I will come to you in need and I'll help you when I can, I will help you when I can,
Always,

So stay with me, promise me you're never gonna leave,
Stay with me, let's try to be the best that we can be,
and take our time.
End Notes:
TBC ... we'll find out how Bess does back in SunnyD next ... This part of the ride is just getting rolling. We also need to deal with the Weckerly's money issues, as well as get the Council moved... Lots more to come, hope you enjoy the ride.
Killer Bunnies by Passion4Spike
Author's Notes:
Buffy, Spike, and Bess make it home at last … what will be waiting for them back in SunnyD? How will the other kids react to Bess?
**
Music Referenced:
Anya, It Could be Bunnies:  http://youtu.be/ke3DUitoz8w
(Just for fun) Killer Bunnies, Monty Python: http://youtu.be/XcxKIJTb3Hg
Fouettes variation: http://youtu.be/YxsI4Giuu0Q
 **
ScreenCaps courtesy of ScreenCap Paradise: http://www.screencap-paradise.com/?cat=3
**
Thanks to 'epd4' for betaing this chapter.
Tuesday, May 3rd, 2010, 10:00pm, London:
 
Bess sat by the window, looking down out at the people on the ground who were loading luggage and other packages into the belly of the large airliner. The butterflies in her stomach were on the verge of making her jump up from her seat and run from the plane … but she’d have to get by Buffy, who was next to her, and Spike who was sitting in his normal place on the aisle. Still … she could probably do it, even in these tight quarters.
 
“It helps to breathe,” Buffy leaned over and whispered to Bess, resting her hand lightly over the girl’s where she was gripping the arm rest. “And don’t break the seat or you won’t be able to get it out of its ‘full upright position’.”
 
Bess turned away from the window and looked at Buffy a moment before taking a deep breath and releasing her iron grip on the armrest.
 
“Everything will be fine, trust me,” Buffy assured her, patting her hand. “It’s gonna be fun.”
 
Bess nodded and looked back out the window as the people on the ground moved the conveyor-belt truck that had been loading the luggage away. “Just like the train, right?” Bess asked, looking back at Buffy.
 
“Only better…” Buffy smiled. “I was scared the first time I went on an airplane, too, but they say it’s safer than riding in a car.”
 
“Who’s ‘they’?” Bess wondered.
 
Buffy frowned and scrunched up her face in thought, then shrugged. “Probably the airlines,” she admitted. “But really, very few airplanes ever crash.”
 
“How few?” Bess wondered, sizing up the space between Buffy and Spike and the seat in front of them. Maybe she could just jump over the seat to make her escape and avoid Buffy and Spike altogether.
 
“Very few… and even fewer explode…”
 
“Explode?!”
 
“I don’t think you’re helping, pet,” Spike pointed out as the plane began moving backwards away from the gate.
 
“Oh … sorry,” Buffy apologized. “It’ll be fine,” she assured Bess, putting on her best, most reassuring smile. “Just breathe.”
 
Bess turned and looked back out the window as they taxied for take-off. She wasn’t so sure all those butterflies were from being afraid of flying so much as being afraid of landing … and what would await her in California … well, that was until Buffy started talking about crashing and exploding.
 
The lights on the plane flashed briefly and the air conditioning waned, then the ‘fasten seatbelt’ sign blinked and dinged its last warning.
 
“Here we go,” Buffy told Bess, her own excitement building. For her, this was a much better flight than the one coming over. They had Bess out of her prison and they were going home. Buffy’s skin tingled in anticipation of the g-forces of take-off and she squeezed Spike’s hand on her right and Bess’ on her left as the plane began building speed. 

“This is the best part!” Buffy informed Bess with a child-like glee.

 

Bess looked out the window as the lights of the runway starting passing faster and faster until they were just blurs. When the plane lifted off, Bess squeezed Buffy’s hand and held her breath as the g-forces pushed her back in her seat. She was pretty sure it was too late to escape now… The butterflies in her stomach began doing flip flops as the plane gained altitude and she could see the lights of London and the dark expanse of the North Sea beyond the shore. Bess pressed her face against the cool glass of the window and gazed in wonder at the lights below them as they became smaller and smaller. When the plane banked to the right, wisps of clouds streamed by the window, obstructing her view, but she kept her nose plastered against the glass anyway. She felt like she had risen up to heaven and was looking down on the twinkling stars below her – it was, in a word, amazing! She remembered Wanda telling her stories of how angels watched over them, that they could look through the floor of heaven and see everything, and in times of need, if you just listened with your heart, they would lead you to the right path.
 
Bess looked over at Spike and Buffy, who were starting to get comfortable now that the plane had leveled out, and she nodded to herself and then looked back out the window. Surely, there must be an angel looking down on her now, if she could just keep the door on her heart ajar … keep it open that tiny bit so she could listen with it, everything would be ok.
 
**~**
 
Despite the late hour and it being a school night, Buffy, Spike, Bess, and Faith were greeted by a fairly large welcoming committee at the airport when they arrived in Sunnydale. Xander and Anya had brought JJ, along with Annie, Dani, and Billy to meet the plane. As Faith headed for the baggage claim area to retrieve the Scythe, Buffy and Spike, with Bess following, hurried through the security gates before dropping their carry-on bags and grabbing up the children in tight hugs as they rushed to greet them. Buffy dropped kisses on Dani and Billy’s faces and they squealed happily while Spike picked Annie up in a hug and swung her around in a circle as she laughed and hugged his neck.
 
“We missed you!” his eldest daughter exclaimed as Spike set her down.

 

“We missed you too, Niblett,” Spike replied as he pulled her, along with Buffy, and, by default the twins, into a group bear hug.
 
Bess stood back and watched the family reunite and the butterflies in her stomach seemed to turn to bees … killer bees ... possibly mixed with hornets, which swarmed through that open door and stung her heart with pangs of fear and jealousy. How was she supposed to compete with that? Annie was so pretty, with her long, curly brown hair and there was no mistaking who her father was, with her high cheekbones and blue eyes. Billy too, looked just like Spike, his blond hair short and curly, but with the same bone structure and cerulean blue eyes. Only Dani favored her mother more, her long blonde hair falling in soft waves, but still with the blue eyes of her father.
 
Bess studied her younger doppelganger as the children talked excitedly about what had happened during the week Buffy and Spike were gone while the warriors greeted Xander and Anya and JJ. Dani did look just like Bess when she was younger. She remembered an old photo of her – Wanda had had one done of each of the children, along with a family portrait, when Bess was about seven, her own hair long and blonde and more wavy than curly in the photo. Bess touched her short hair, without the weight the long length gave it, it looked more like Billy’s now, her curls more untamed. Bess let her eyes wander back over Annie and Billy … she knew that Billy looked like William from the dreams she’d had with him, but didn’t realize that Annie would look so much like her sister Anne. The resemblance was … staggering.
 
Everyone was smiling and laughing and talking all at once … it seemed utter chaos to Bess, but there was no doubt of the love that emanated from the group. How was she ever going to fit into this clan? How could Spike and Buffy have anything left to give her? Although not a conscious thought, the possibility that she didn't deserve to have their love and affection lingered in her heart, despite all the assurances Buffy and Spike had given her, that doubt still nagged at her deep down inside.
 
Finally, Spike pulled away from the group and walked back to where Bess was standing, waiting, and watching. “C’mon, pet … come meet your family,” he invited, putting an arm around her shoulders and urging her forward.
 
“Anne Joyce…” Spike began when they got near Annie, “… this is your sister, Elizabeth Anne.”
 
Annie smiled at the girl and then hugged her, surprising Bess momentarily. “It’s gonna be great having another sister! We got a room all set up for you … you can decorate it later how you want, but we all put some stuff in there for you. You don’t have to pretend to like it or anything … especially the Star Wars stuff,” Annie assured her, rolling her eyes. “But until you can get your own stuff, at least you’ll have something to look at.”
 
“Thank you, that’s very kind…” Bess offered sincerely as Annie pulled back from the hug.
 
“Danielle Dawn…” Spike continued, turning Bess towards Dani, “…say hi to your sister, Elizabeth Anne.”
 
“I put my ninja poster in your room … Mama said you were a Slayer, so I thought you’d like that better than the ManU poster, but you can switch if you want…” Dani rambled happily. “Do you like ninjas?”
 
“Uhhh … I’m not sure … what do they do?” Bess asked the excited girl.
 
“Oh! They’re the best! They have these samurai swords and they can sneak up on anybody and … BAM! … dead!” Dani exclaimed, adding hand motions to imitate sticking a sword in someone.
 
“Well … that sounds amazing, yes … thank you,” Bess agreed, leaning down and giving Dani a hug.
 
“And I think you know this handsome lad …” Spike finished, turning her towards Billy.
 
“Hi, Billy,” Bess greeted him with a soft smile, dropping down to her knees to pull him into a tight hug.
 
“I’m glad you could come live with us,” Billy offered, returning her hug. “I told you Papa would keep his promise.”
 
Bess laughed lightly as tears stung her eyes and she nodded. “Thank you … I’m really … really … ummm,” Bess wiped her tears away with her fingers and tried to blink them back. “… really happy. Thank you for helping me.”
 
“You’re welcome,” Billy beamed proudly. “It was my first mission.” Billy looked up at Spike with a serious expression and asked, “Did you remember the decoder rings and the lightsaber?”
 
Spike laughed and ruffled his son’s curls as Bess released her savior and stood back up. “Yeah, no worries …”
 
Spike put a hand on JJ’s shoulder and pulled him up next to Billy. “And this here’s a little whelp we call …” Spike almost said ‘Whelp’, but corrected at the last moment, “… JJ. He’s our nephew … and our shadow,” Spike explained.
 
“Hi,” JJ stuck out his right hand like Xander and Spike had taught him.
 
Bess looked at him with confusion, then looked up at Spike. She’d never shaken anyone’s hand before. “He don’t bite – shake ‘is hand,” Spike advised her.
 
“But he has cooties, so don’t shake it too long,” Dani added. “And when you’re done, say ‘crisscross apple sauce’, then spin around three times, then say ‘circle, circle, dot, dot,’ and give yourself a cootie shot,” Dani instructed.
 
Bess’ eyes got wide and she drew her hand back from where she’d started to extend it towards JJ.
 
“I do not! You have cooties!” JJ argued angrily, scrunching up his face and sticking his tongue out at Dani.
 
Girls don’t have cooties … only yucky ole boys have cooties!” Dani shot back, putting her hands on her hips.
 
They were silenced by a shrill whistle coming from Spike. “Shake the boy’s hand,” he instructed Bess. “You can’t get the cooties, you’re a vampire…”
 
Bess still looked a little confused but finally shook JJ’s hand. “Do cooties hurt?” she asked him.
 
“Girls!” JJ moaned, rolling his eyes and shaking his head as he walked away.
 
Xander stepped up to JJ’s vacated spot. “Bess, this is Xander Harris, the Whelp’s dad…”

 

Xander drew Bess into a hug. “Don’t worry, I don’t have cooties,” he told her. “I gave all mine to JJ; it’s traditional in our family. Some people hand down money, we hand down cooties. Welcome to the Hellmouth … the more Slayers the better, I always say.”
 
“Thank you. It’s nice to meet you,” Bess replied politely when he released her.
 
“This is my wife, Anya,” Xander continued, turning slightly and inviting Anya closer.


 
“Hi!” Anya greeted her brightly, waving. “Will you be taking over patrols? I’d really like more patrols on Revello Drive … Being friends with the Slayers in this town should get us some preferential treatment, but Faith says she has to concentrate on the cemeteries … which is ridiculous! Except for her, there’s no one in the cemeteries except dead people and vampires! She really should be patrolling near our house much more frequently …”
 
“I … I don’t know …” Bess stammered, looking at Spike.
 
“We’ll see, Anya,” Buffy stepped in. “The idea is to stop the vampires in the cemetery before they get to your house.”
 
“Well, it’s simply unacceptable. With all the Slayers in this town, we really should be able to have one of you check Revello every hour or so…”
 
“Anya, I didn’t check Revello that often when I lived there …” Buffy argued, rolling her eyes.
 
Anya matched Buffy’s eye roll and let out a sigh.
 
“I’ll … I’ll see what I can do,” Bess offered tentatively, looking between Buffy and Anya.
 
“Finally, someone sees reason! Thank you,” Anya smiled. “It’s nice to finally have a Slayer with some sense in this town.”
 
Buffy opened her mouth to object, but Spike put a hand on her arm. “Time to go …” he announced, pulling his wife away from the ex-demon. Even though they got along most of the time, Anya could still push Buffy’s buttons without even trying. He knew he’d hear about it the whole way home … perhaps even long into the night, but that would be better than an argument in the middle of the airport.
  
**~**
 
(The next day), May 4th, 2010:
 
The next day was a whirlwind of activity at the Weckerly’s. All the kids played hooky from school since they’d been up so late the night before and they all spent time with Bess. They showed her around the house, told her about themselves, about their school, about their friends, their favorite TV shows, their favorite movies, their favorite games, about how you have to jiggle the handle on the toilet downstairs to get it to stop running … they told her about everything under the sun, and, in Billy’s case, even some things above the sun.
 
Buffy was busy trying to get several days worth of laundry and cleaning done and she had to go to the grocery store and the butcher shop, because there was nothing in the house to eat, not even blood. Clem had stopped by to make sure they had gotten home – he didn’t want the kids to be alone after school if Spike and Buffy had been delayed, so he got to meet Bess and he visited with Spike for a while. Spike told Clem to let Willy know he was back in town and asked his friend to feel the situation out at the bar – could Spike get his job back? Clem said he’d see what he could find out, but that Willy had hired a pair of Brachen demons that used to work at The Fish Bowl to replace both Spike and Faith.

 

Clem felt bad for Spike, not only was he out of a job, he was surrounded by tight-skinned women and girls with thick mops of hair, small ears, and either blue or green eyes. At least this new one did have short hair and she didn’t have that hideous tan skin that the rest of them sported…
 
After Clem left that afternoon, Spike went down into the basement to transfer the laundry from the washer to the dryer, as instructed by Buffy before she left for the store. He found Bess sitting down there in a dark corner, all by herself.
 
“What’s the matter, luv?” Spike asked, walking over to where she was sitting on some old trunks in the darkest corner.
 
Bess let out a long breath. “My brain is full.”
 
“Beg pardon?”
 
Bess leaned back against the wall and shut her eyes. “My brain is completely full … it feels like it’s gonna explode if anyone tells me one more thing,” she clarified.

 

Spike raised his brows and looked at her. “I don’t think that’s physically possible, pet.”
 
Bess snorted a sarcastic laugh. “I wouldn’t be too sure. Did you know that a ‘flatland 360° inward heel’ is ‘super hard’ or that Bobby Charlton is the all time leading goal scorer for ManU, but Ryan Giggs was voted their best player of all time?” Bess asked.
 

“Yeah … actually …” Spike admitted.

“How about that Italian Fouettes on Pointe is probably the hardest ballet step and the variation in Dance Spirit Magazine is ‘beyond brutal’?”

{{Click here to see the ‘brutal’ Fierce Fouttes Annie is trying to master YouTube  }}
 
“Uhhh …yeah …” Spike replied.
 
“And did you know that ‘Hansel and Gretel’ has an unfair representation of witches or that Luke Skywalker's original name was Luke Starkiller? Or that Han Solo was originally a green-skinned, gilled monster with a girlfriend named Boma who was a cross between a guinea pig and a brown bear? Or that the largest carnivorous dinosaur was once thought to be T. Rex, but now it’s believed to be Spinosaurus? And did you know the stars in the sky may actually not even be there anymore because they’ve burnt out, but their light is just now reaching us ‘cos they’re so far away?”
 
“A guinea pig and a brown bear?” Spike questioned. “Not bloody likely … the soddin’ bear’d eat the little furry rodent… couldn’t cross those two…”

 Bess sighed, closing her eyes and rubbing her temples. “My brain is full,” she repeated.
 
Spike smiled and sat down on the trunk next to her. “They’re just trying to include ya in their lives, pet. I know it’s a lot to take in, you don’t have to remember it all … trust me, they’ll tell ya again … and again … and again.”
 
Bess laughed softly and opened her eyes and looked at him. “How will I ever be able to remember everything?”
 
“Just takes time, pet … they didn’t learn all that overnight, give yourself a break,” Spike assured her, rubbing her shoulder.
 
Spike stood up, patting a hand down on her thigh and went back to finishing his task at the washer and dryer. “Ya comin’?” he asked, picking up the basket of dry clothes and heading towards the stairs.

 

“I think I’ll just sit here a little while longer and let some of that stuff leak out of my ears …” Bess replied.
 
“Ok … just don’t let too much leak out … and don’t let it get on the laundry or Buffy’ll kill ya,” Spike warned as he headed back upstairs.
 
**~**
 
That evening, when Xander and Anya came over after work to pick up JJ and visit a while, Spike decided he had as many of the Scoobies as he’d get in one place for a while, so he commenced the official Scooby-gang ‘inauguration ceremony’ for Bess, Billy, Dani, and Annie.
 
As Xander, Anya, JJ, and Buffy sat on the couch and watched, Spike lined the four Weckerly children up in front of the fireplace.
 
Spike faced them and held up his right hand and all the children followed suit … eventually, first matching him by holding up their left hands, but they got it sorted out. “Repeat after me,” Spike began. “I, say your name,”
 
“I, say your name,” they all repeated, making their audience laugh and Spike roll his eyes.
 
“Do solemnly swear to be a loyal member of the Slayer’s Scooby gang …” Spike continued and the children echoed it.
 
“To answer the call of duty, even if it’s after my bedtime and I’m knackered, to fulfill all missions, great or small, to the best of my abilities, to help each other and the Slayer fight the forces of evil and do so in complete secrecy now and forevermore…”
 
The children repeated each verse of Spike’s oath solemnly, when they were done, Spike continued, “By the power vested in me by the Queen and the Slayer herself, which, in this house is one and the same, I now officially pronounce you Scoobies.”
 
Their audience burst out with applause and cheers and the kids all laughed and smiled proudly as Spike handed them each a super-secret Scooby decoder ring.

  

“And, for bravery above and beyond the call of duty,” Spike concluded. “The always feared and often deadly, Jedi lightsaber…” Spike announced grandly, handing Billy a glowing blue lightsaber. “And, because every Jedi Scooby has to have someone to spar with …” Spike finished, handing another lightsaber to JJ.

 

“Cooool!” JJ enthused, jumping up off the couch and lunging at Billy … and the fight was on!
 
“OI! Spar in the bloody training room!” Spike directed, pushing both boys in the back towards the door of the padded room. “May the Force be with you…” he called behind them as they smacked their lightsabers against each other in true Jedi fashion on their way across the great room. Annie, Dani, and Bess followed them into the training room and the doors closed behind them just as Dani started asking to try one. Maybe Spike should’ve bought more…
 
“You know, Buff … we never got cool super secret Slayer decoder rings…” Xander whined.
 
“Awww … I’m sorry, Xand … If I’da known…” Buffy cajoled.
 
“I don’t understand why JJ is just a sparring partner … he should have a ring and be a Scooby too,” Anya complained.
 
“He didn’t do anything …” Spike pointed out.
 
“He’s six! You’re going to give him a complex…” Anya argued.

 

“Noooo…I’m gonna make him earn it. That’s the problem with bloody kids these days, everything’s given to them, they don’t have to do anything to get the bloody reward,” Spike countered.
 
“Well, that’s not fair…” Anya continued.
 
“Ahn … actually … I hate to say it, but Spike’s right,” Xander stepped in. “It’ll mean more if he does something to earn it. We all had to earn our stripes ...”
 
Anya huffed and folded her arms across her chest. “Well … you better give him a mission so he can be a Scooby too … it’s not fair.”
 
“He can follow in ‘is father’s footsteps and fetch the donuts at the next research party,” Spike offered.
 
“Hey! Never underestimate the power of the snack! Ho-Hos and crème filling are vital parts of the cognitive process…” Xander defended.
 
Anya rolled her eyes, her arms still folded across her chest. Buffy reached over and put a hand on Anya’s shoulder. “Don’t worry … JJ’s a good kid … he’ll get a chance.”
 
“I hope so … I certainly hope he doesn’t have to marry into the gang, like some people…” Anya groused, looking pointedly at Spike.
 
“OI! I'm no bloody kettle, Mrs. Pot!” Spike defended.
 
“Okay! Okay!” Buffy quieted everyone, standing up and pulling Anya with her. “C’mon … let’s go see how our mandrake is doing…”
 
“Oh …” Anya winced, pulling back from Buffy. “I forgot to tell you…”
 
“What?! You forgot to tell me what?!” Buffy demanded.

 

“Please don’t slay the messenger …” Anya begged, stepping back.
 
“What the hell happened?!” Buffy questioned angrily.
 
“I’m not completely certain, but I have a theory … it could be ... bunnies…”

“WHAT!?” Buffy turned and headed out through the garage to the backyard. She stopped at the edge of the fencing around her mandrake patch and surveyed her babies in the dim light shining out from the kitchen window. At least half of what she’d planted was gone … and there was a rabbit in the patch, chomping down on another one!

“GET THE HELL OUT OF THERE!” Buffy screamed at it, jumping over the white pickets and chasing the rabbit out through a hole that it had dug under her fence. “Damn it!” Buffy groaned as she looked around at her devastated garden.
 
“I keep telling you people about bunnies, but does anyone believe me? Noooooo! Oh, they’re just cute little, furry, hoppity bunnies …” Anya mocked as she, Xander, and Spike made it outside to the garden patch. “I told you they were demonic! Bunnies are evil, with those hoppy legs and twitchy little noses! They're possessed … nasty, vile rodents who do nothing but eat and poop and make baby bunnies!”
 
Buffy’s shoulders sagged as she knelt down to check what remained of her plants. All that work, all the money she’d spent on seeds, all the time she spent reading to them and weeding them and watering … gone. All that money she was gonna make … gone. “Damn it…” Buffy moaned again as she stood up then took her foot and covered up the hole that the rabbit had dug under her fence.
 
“That won’t help … they just dig new ones…” Anya informed her.
 
“I thought Mandrake was poisonous …” Buffy pointed out, looking at her friends. “Shouldn’t that demonic little bunny, like ... die now?”

 

Anya snorted a laugh. “Poisonous-spoisonous …” she quipped. “The only thing that kills bunnies is … keeettccch,” Anya informed her, drawing a line across her throat with a finger. "Everyone thinks the Killer Bunny in Monty Python and the Holy Grail is just a joke ... humph! They're demonic – in a bad way."
 
Buffy rolled her eyes. “Swell…”
 
**~**
 
Buffy sat on the edge of Billy’s bed and Spike sat on the edge of Dani’s later that night as they tucked the twins in. Billy had his lightsaber in bed with him, they both had their coveted decoder rings securely tucked onto their right ring fingers.
 
“So, Anya and Clem said you guys were very good while we were gone …” Buffy started. “We’re really proud of both of you.”
 
“Clem’s nice,” Dani began. “He made worms in mud for us … twice!”
 
Buffy’s brows shot up. “Twice?!” Buffy shook her head … she’d talk to Clem about that later.
 
“But he looks funny … his ears are kinda big,” Billy observed.
 
Buffy and Spike both chuckled softly. That was the funniest thing about Clem? His floppy ears? “Well, nobody’s perfect,” Spike pointed out.
 
Billy pursed his lips together and nodded, still holding tightly to his lightsaber.
 
“We brought you guys something from London,” Buffy informed them, and both twins’ eyes lit up.
 
“Really!?” … “What!?” they asked in unison.
 
“Well, for m’ little footballer…” Spike started, pulling a ‘Future Legends’ ManU t-shirt out from behind his back and holding it up for Dani.

 

Dani squealed in delight, grabbed it out of his hands, and pulled it on over her PJs. “I love it!” she exclaimed in glee as she wrapped her arms around Spike’s neck and gave him a hug.

“Do you think I can play for them one day?” she asked with excitement in her eyes.
 
Spike shrugged. “Never know ‘til you try … might be the next Ryan Giggs, yeah?”
 
Dani smiled and held the front of the shirt out to look at it again, then looked back up at Spike. “Thanks, Papa!”
 
“You’re welcome, Lemon Drop …” he told her as he laid her back down and pulled her covers back up.
 
“And, for my brave boy,” Buffy began, pulling a book out from behind her back. “The Complete Sherlock Holmes …” Buffy announced. “It came right from his very house, which is a museum now.”

 

“Neat!” Billy exclaimed taking the large, heavy book from her hands. “Thanks, Mama!” he enthused, sitting up and opening the book reverently.
 
“You’re very welcome…” Buffy assured him, tousling his curly hair as he scanned the table of contents with wide eyes. Buffy shook her head and smiled … he looked like a mini-Watcher sitting there engrossed in the gilded tome.
 
“Ok … time for sleep now, you can read tomorrow,” Buffy informed him, closing the book in his lap and pulling it away to set on his bookcase.
 
“Ok …” Billy moaned as he lay back down.
 
“Good night, sweet boy…” Buffy told him, dropping a kiss on his forehead as she stood up. Spike did the same with Dani and then they switched.
 
“We love you guys,” Buffy called to them as she and Spike started for the door.
 
“Love you too…”
 
**~**
 
Down the hall, Spike knocked on Annie’s door.
 
“Come in,” she called.
 
“Hey, Niblett … ready for bed?” Spike questioned as he and Buffy came in.
 
“Yeah …” their daughter answered with a yawn … it had been a long twenty-four hours.
 
“Brought you some swag from London,” Buffy informed her with a smile.
 
Annie’s eyes lit up and she sat up in bed.
 
“First … a new poster for your wall,” Buffy announced, unrolling a Royal Ballet ‘Nutcracker’ poster and holding it up for Annie to see.
 
“The Nutcracker! My favorite!” Annie enthused, jumping up out of bed and digging some pushpins out of a drawer. The Nutcracker had been her favorite since Tara and Willow had taken her to see it on Christmas Eve when she was five … it was the first ballet she’d ever seen and she still dreamed of dancing as Clara one day. She’d been a snowflake twice and a candy-cane and a soldier and a mouse … but the older girls at her dance school always got to be Clara. She couldn’t wait until she was old enough to be the star…

  

“Where do you want it?” Buffy asked and Annie pointed to an empty spot on the wall at the end of her bed, where she could see it every morning when she woke up and every night before she went to sleep. Buffy held it up as Spike told her which way to move it to make it level and centered, and Annie poked the sharp pins into the corners, tacking it up to the drywall.
 
Annie backed up and admired it … it was the best poster yet!
 
“And,” Spike continued, pulling something from behind his back, “Romeo and Juliet,” he revealed, holding up a DVD of the Royal Ballet performing the Shakespearian classic.

 

 "Oh, how cool!” Annie exclaimed, taking the DVD from her father and studying the cover, front and back. “Thank you!”
 
“You’re very welcome,” Buffy answered her. “Better put it away now … you can watch it when you get home from school tomorrow.”
 
“Ok …” Annie agreed, leaning it up against the light on her nightstand so she could see it in the morning just like her new poster, before crawling back into bed.
 
Buffy sat down on one side of Annie’s bed and Spike on the other, just like they used to do when she was little. “Thank you for keeping watch over the little bits while we were gone,” Spike began. “What you did … believing Junior, callin’ Faith … it was … very brave.”
 
Annie smiled and shrugged. “He was the brave one, he didn’t give up.  For a boy, he’s not so bad.”
 
“Boys are ok if you give them a chance,” Buffy agreed, giving her daughter a knowing smile.

 

“No, they bloody well are not,” Spike disagreed vehemently. “Got cooties, the lot of ‘em.”
 
“Daaaaad!” Annie moaned, rolling her eyes.
 
“You did very well, sweetie,” Buffy reiterated, brushing some stray curls away from Annie’s face. “You’re a smart, brave girl.”
 
“You got a new bracelet!” Annie exclaimed, catching Buffy’s hand and holding it so she could examine the charm bracelet that Spike had given her.
 
“I did … cootie-boy here gave it to me. Do you like it?” Buffy asked.
 
Annie looked at it for a few moments, examining each charm on it and then looking up at Buffy. “What does it mean?” she asked, slightly confused. “I mean … I get the key and the soccer ball and the book … that’s us, me and Dani and Billy, but what are these other ones for?”
 
Buffy looked at Spike who sighed. He hadn’t thought about the questions the bracelet would raise when he picked the charms out.
 
Before Spike could say anything, Buffy answered her. “Annie, you know magic, real magic, can do some strange things …” Buffy began hesitantly.
 
“Yeah…” Annie replied just as tentatively, not sure where this was going.

 

“And you know your dad had other children before – Anne and Bess and William,” Buffy continued.
 
“Yeah…” Annie hadn’t actually known all their names before, but Spike had told her about them before they left to go find Bess.
 
“And you saw Bess … don’t you think she looks just like Dani, only older?” Buffy continued.
 
“Kinda… I guess.”
 
“Ok, well here’s the thing you don’t know … the children your father had when he was human … they’re not just his children, but mine too. Someone used magic to … well … they tried to steal you and Dani and Billy from me and … it’s really complicated, but those children were made from me and your dad, just like you guys are,” Buffy tried to explain.
 
Annie looked at Buffy with a furrowed brow, chewing her bottom lip and trying to wrap her head around what her mother was saying.
 
“So … these other charms,” Buffy continued. “… the dagger is for Bess, the Vampire Slayer, the Eiffel Tower is for Anne who wanted very badly to see it, and the stork with the baby boy is for William…”
 
“Who tried to steal us?” Annie wondered, as she looked more closely at the other charms on the bracelet.
 
“The same person that stole my memories … but I was able to get you back, the only thing was, she made … twins of all of you, and they were born back in the 1800s… I tried, but I couldn’t stop her from doing that,” Buffy told her. “But you don’t have to worry … she won’t be back, I promise.”
 
Annie considered this a few moments, then looked at Spike. “You didn’t tell me that part …”

 

“Sorry, pet … I wasn’t really sure how to tell you,” Spike apologized with a shrug.
 
“So … you were married to dad before?” Annie questioned, still not clear.
 
“No … your father was married to the woman that tried to steal you, she was an ex-demon who traveled back in time to take him and all you kids away from me, but he didn’t know that then ...” Buffy clarified. “She used magic to make … copies, like clones, of all of you … to hurt me by raising you all as hers.”
 
Annie shook her head and scrunched her face up in thought. After a few moments she said, “So Bess is a copy of Dani?”
 
“Yes…”
 
“But she was born first, wouldn’t that make Dani a copy of her?” Annie wondered logically.
 
Spike snorted a soft laugh; their little Einstein. “When you hop about in time, who was first or second is hard to suss out … but your mum is sure you were first, before my … other wife made a wish and bollixed everything up.”
 
Annie considered this a minute. “So, who were you actually married to first?” she questioned.
 
Spike widened his eyes and shook his head, looking at Buffy for help.
 
“Me … he was married to me first,” Buffy assured them both.

 

“So I was really the first baby after all… that’s why my charm is first,” Annie concluded.
 
“Yes, you were…” Buffy agreed.
 
Annie smiled with satisfaction. “Good. I’m still the big sister, even if Bess is older.”
 
“Yes, you are, sweetie,” Buffy concurred. “So we’re counting on you to help her out. Everything’s new and strange here for her, she’ll need a big sister to show her the ropes.”
 
Annie nodded seriously. “I can help her,” Annie assured them. “What does that other charm mean?” she asked, fingering the bandstand charm, the last one on the bracelet.
 
“That’s for the littlest bit …” Spike answered.
 
“But what does it mean?” Annie asked again.
 
“It … uhhh …” Spike stammered momentarily.
 
“It’s the place where we defeated the demon that tried to steal you all from me,” Buffy took over. “It’s where I got you all back … so it’s a special place. If not for it, we wouldn’t have the new baby.”
 
“You beat up dad’s other wife?!” Annie wondered with a bit of surprise and a touch of satisfaction.
 
Buffy laughed and looked at Spike. “Yeah, we both did…”
 
Annie’s eyes glittered with gleeful pride; she didn’t like the idea of her dad being married before. “Good. It sounds like she deserved it.”
 
Buffy and Spike both nodded. “No doubt about that, pet.”
 
They kissed their eldest daughter goodnight and Annie went to sleep dreaming of sugar plum fairies and happy endings. All was right with the world – she was still the first born, the big sister, her mom was her dad’s real first wife, and her parents had beat up the wicked demon that tried to steal them away.
 
**~**

 

“Didn’t know you were gonna go into all that with ‘er,” Spike admitted when they got out into the hall.
 
Buffy shrugged. “Had to tell her something … she asked straight out, I thought she deserved the truth. Figured we might as well start treating her like she’s eleven…” Buffy advised. “And that cootie thing? You might as well forget it… that’s not gonna work anymore, either.”
 
“Bugger…”
 
 **~**


Just for fun ...


{{Click here to see Anya’s part of the ‘I’ve Got a Theory’ song from OMWF on YouTube  }}

And ...

 Just in case you somehow missed this classic or haven't seen it in a while ... ;-)


{{Click here to see the Killer Bunny from Monty Python and the Holy Grail on YouTube  }}
End Notes:
TBC ... We'll find out how things go with Bess in Sunnydale; Buffy and Spike have a few challenges yet to face - it's gonna be a long year for them.; it's really only just begun...
Runaway Train, Part 1 by Passion4Spike
Author's Notes:
'Raising kids is like giving a cat a bath. You think you have everything under control right up until the bugger digs into you with teeth and claws, turns the washtub over, and escapes out the back door.'
**~**
Music Referenced:
Runaway Train, Soul Asylum http://youtu.be/NRtvqT_wMeY
 **
ScreenCaps courtesy of ScreenCap Paradise: http://www.screencap-paradise.com/?cat=3
**
Thanks to 'epd4' for betaing this chapter and to PaganBaby for her help on the pregnant pizza scene and Vette for wondering what a pregnant Slayer might crave ... :P
(4 days after getting back to Sunnydale) Saturday, May 8th, 2010, 1:00pm, Sunnydale Mall:
 
“But, Mom, pleeease,” Annie begged, hugging the coveted jeans to her chest tightly. 

“Annie … I’m seriously not paying that much for a pair of jeans because they’ve got pink piping, a few sequins, and say ‘Barbie’ on them,” Buffy retorted – again. “Put them back.”

“But I love them … and they’re on clearance … and Synchronicity would be soooo jealous…” Annie continued to argue.
 
“Anne Joyce … I wasn’t put on this earth to make your friends jealous. I could buy five pairs of jeans with what that one pair costs, even on ‘clearance’. For me to pay that much for jeans, Ken better be in them,” Buffy asserted. “Put. Them. Back.”
 
Annie sighed and her shoulders sagged as she hung the jeans back on the rack. “Synchronicity isn’t my friend … she’s just … she thinks she’s the coolest thing in school and she’s such a ditzoid! I think her parents paid to get her into the Magnet program ….” Annie disclosed as she continued looking through the other jeans on the clearance rack. “She can barely tell Arabic from Greek…”
 
“We’re not here for you … we’re here for Bess – let’s try to stick with that plan and we’ll worry about making … What the hell kind of name is ‘Synchronicity’, anyway?” Buffy wondered as Annie held another pair up in Bess’ size and Buffy made a face and shook her head. “Too many holes.”
 
Annie shrugged and put the holey jeans back on the rack. “It’s like Joshua … apparently it’s the name of an album or something from the olden days.”



“Aaaa yes, the long ago, caveman olden days … the '80s,” Buffy quipped, rolling her eyes.
 
“How about these?” Annie asked, holding up another pair of jeans.
 
Buffy looked them over, checked the price and nodded. “Yeah – take those to her to try …”
 
Annie headed off towards the fitting rooms with the jeans. They’d been at this for a couple of hours, trying to get Bess a decent wardrobe … this was the second store they’d been to so far today and there were lots more stores waiting for them. Bess needed everything from underwear and socks to jeans and t-shirts to dress slacks and nice tops to dresses and skirts to shoes. It was costing a small fortune, but Bess couldn’t go the rest of her life with just two pairs of jeans, three shirts (including the one from Jake-John-Jack), and the one dress Buffy had bought her in London.
 
After a few minutes, the two girls came back carrying armfuls of clothes that fit and Bess liked or that Annie had talked her into liking, at least, and the three of them headed to the checkout counter.
 
After ringing everything up and running Buffy’s credit card, the cashier frowned and handed the card back to Buffy. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Weckerly, that card’s been declined.”
 
“What?!” Buffy questioned, checking to make sure she’d given them the right card … the card she thought didn’t have anything on it … the card she’d later find out Spike used for their night out in London and the charm bracelet. “Oh … ummm…” Buffy stammered, looking in her wallet and shaking her head. She knew the other two cards would be declined too.
 
“Would you like to apply for a store credit card?” the clerk offered.
 
“Uhhh …” Buffy looked at all the clothes as her stomach knotted in embarrassment and frustration … Bess really did need them. “Yeah – let’s do that…”
 
After four more stores, and four more store credit accounts, the trio left the mall laden with a decent wardrobe for their newest addition … along with a few items for the other new addition that would be coming along in October that Buffy just couldn’t resist getting.
 
**~**
 
(2 days later), Monday, May 10th, 2010, 3:00pm, Dr. Benson’s office, OB/GYN (16 weeks pregnant):

 

“You should’ve been in sooner,” the doctor chastised her, “But everything looks fine, Buffy,” the doctor assured her as she ran the sonogram wand over the cold jelly on Buffy’s abdomen.
 
Buffy sighed in relief as she watched the blurry picture on the black and white monitor. “Can you tell the sex of the baby?” she wondered.
 
“Well … it’s a little early …” the doctor began, moving the wand around more and studying the screen. “… but it looks like a girl. I wouldn’t paint the room pink yet, though … we should be able to be more certain on the next sonogram, assuming she or he isn’t shy.”

 

Buffy nodded. Of course it was a girl … of course the ‘insane Cambridge man’ was probably right … she’d done the math, she was due on October 9th, 2010 … ‘on the day that falls one short of the month and the year,’ exactly 266 days from the ‘buggering blue demon’ attack … the night in the bandstand.
 
“Ok ... no pink yet,” Buffy agreed as the doctor cleaned the jelly off her skin.
 
Out at the appointment desk, they set up the next appointment. “That’ll be three hundred for today’s visit,” the nurse behind the desk informed Buffy nonchalantly as she handed her the appointment card.
 
“Three hundred … dollars?! For thirty minutes?” Buffy questioned with wide eyes. “Wow … who can afford to have babies anymore?” she only half joked, pulling out her checkbook. Her hand shook slightly as she wrote the check. The money that Willow and Tara had ‘repaid’ them back February wouldn’t last long at this rate…
 
**~**
 
(2 days later), Wednesday, May 12th, 2010, 10:00am, Dr. White’s office, DDS:
  
“Your other teeth look fine, Buffy … just that one got knocked out?” the dentist questioned. “I don’t know that I’ve seen just one molar knocked out before, with no damage to the others.”
 
“It was a freak accident involving a … ummm … an angry puppy …” Buffy explained vaguely. “Can you fix it?”
 
Dr. White shrugged. “Sure … for someone your age, and with just the one tooth missing, I’d recommend an implant. It will feel just like a real tooth when it’s done.”
 
“Ok … good, yeah, let’s do that, then,” Buffy agreed.
 
“What kind of insurance do you have?” the dentist questioned, looking at her folder.
 
“None … my husband’s job doesn’t offer dental,” Buffy admitted. “Why … how much does it cost?”
 
“It would be $1,000 for the one tooth …” the doctor informed her.
 
“What?!” Buffy exclaimed, sitting up from the reclining position in the dentist’s chair. “The tooth fairy only paid me a dollar for them!”
 
“Yeah, I know – crazy isn’t it?” Dr. White empathized. “Well, it’s up to you. We can do a payment plan if you need to. The thing to keep in mind is, if you leave that spot blank, your other teeth are going to shift over time to fill it … you may end up with gaps in the front …” he informed her.
 
“Wonderful…” Buffy moaned, resting back against the chair. “Fine … just do it… What’s one more payment?”
 
**~**
 
(next day) Thursday, May 13th, 2010, 2:45am:
 
Spike walked alongside the garage to the garden and found Buffy in her new usual place … sitting under the oak tree, guarding her small plants from the killer bunnies, like a sentry standing guard at Buckingham Palace.
 
“See any action tonight, soldier?” Spike quipped as he walked up to her.

 

“Nope … that’s three nights in a row now,” Buffy informed him, standing up and brushing her backside off before dropping a soft kiss on his lips. “Maybe I scared them off,” she hypothesized as he wrapped his arms around her and gave her a hug.
 
“Or maybe it was that bear piss you poured all ‘round the whole bloody garden…” Spike suggested, scrunching up his nose as he released her. He could still smell it.
 
Buffy shrugged. “Maybe …” she acquiesced as they started walking towards the house arm in arm. “Just how do you think they collect bear urine?” Buffy wondered.
 
“Very carefully,” Spike guessed sarcastically.
 
“’ere,” Spike continued as they walked, handing her a wad of small bills.
 
“What’s this?” Buffy questioned, as she took them. “You haven’t been there long enough to get a paycheck yet.”
 
“Darts…” Spike explained with a shrug. “It’s not much, but …”
 
Buffy counted the money, seventy-five dollars. That would pay for one-fourth of a sonogram… but it was more than she’d brought in, which was zero … or less than zero if you counted the money she’d spent the last few days.
 
“How’s life in The Fish Bowl?” she questioned as they made it into the house.
 
“I didn’t think anyone could be cheaper or skuzzier than Willy, but that bloody shark Tiburon has ‘im beat, fins down,” Spike groaned, rolling his eyes.
 
Since Willy had filled his job by poaching the security from The Fish Bowl, Spike went and talked to Tiburon, a shark-demon who owns the bar on the docks. Spike had met Tiburon before through his brother, who everyone just called ‘Mr. Shark’ … a loan shark who Spike had had a couple of dealings with in the past. Tiburon hired Spike right away … this was his fifth night on the job, but he took a twenty percent pay cut from what Willy had been paying him and it was further away – he had to ride his Harley out there, it was too far to walk. There was also a rougher crowd out on the docks, making for tougher and longer nights. On the plus side, there were a lot of demons and humans from the ships that stopped in on shore leave from points unknown who didn’t know Spike, so he could hustle a game of pool or a dart match or a poker game and make a little extra on the side. The only catch was, anything extra he made while on the clock as security, he had to give 25% of it to Tiburon …
 
“You’re being careful, aren’t you?” Buffy asked, looking at him with worry. “You know …”
 
“I know, pet … I don’t ‘ave the Gem. Yes, I’m bein’ careful … no worries,” Spike assured her as they started up the stairs.
 
“Until Willow figures out how the Gem was made and some way to duplicate the magic in it, or finds out if it can be divided, maybe we should …” Buffy started but was stopped by Spike’s disapproving look.
 
“Fine…” Buffy moaned, dropping it – again. She’d tried and tried to get him to take the Gem back from Bess, but Spike refused, saying she deserved it … she deserved a life in the light after all she’d been through.
 
“Never thought I’d miss the bloody wanker Willy…” Spike changed the subject as they reached the top of the stairs.
 
“I could get rid of a couple of Brachen demons,” Buffy suggested with a shrug. “I mean … I am the Slayer.”

 

Spike snorted a soft laugh. “You’d do that for little ole me?” he asked in mock disbelief.
 
“Just say the word,” Buffy assured him with a nod. “They’ll be drowning in bear pee … they probably won’t stop running until they hit Texas…”
 
**~**
 
(Next day), Friday, May 14th, 2010, 4:30pm:

 

Bess sat on her bed and read the ‘California Driver’s Handbook’ one more time. Spike promised to teach her how to drive just as soon as she could correctly tell him what all the signs meant and understood the rules of the road. It didn’t seem all that complicated, but she wanted to make sure she had it down pat before he quizzed her … this was the sixth time she’d read the book in the last three days.
 
Buffy had gone with Faith to scope out warehouse space that Giles could lease and use as the new Council headquarters in Sunnydale – somewhere cheap, with some office space and room for meetings and training new Slayers, and also with enough room for all the books and other magical doo-dads that still needed to be researched and catalogued before they could be sold.
 
Spike was still asleep, Annie was doing her homework, and JJ, Dani, and Billy were in the ‘bat cave’ playing video games. Bess had played outside with the kids when they first got home from school; Annie, Billy, and JJ had ridden their bikes to the park while she and Dani took turns on Dani’s Spiderman skateboard, following behind them. Bess was quickly learning that she loved anything with wheels … the skateboard was ‘awesome!’ … a new word she’d picked up quickly from all the kids.
 
Bess was a little disappointed when Annie said they needed to get back home because she had homework to do. Bess enjoyed being outside, not cooped up indoors, but she knew that schoolwork was important, too, and since she was the official babysitter while Buffy was gone and Spike was sleeping, where the kids went, so did she.
 
Bess looked around her room … There was the ninja poster from Dani on one wall, a poster of the Tower Bridge in London from Annie on another wall, and a poster of the solar system, with all the planets named, on a third wall … the fourth wall was blank. Buffy said she could add whatever posters she wanted, but Bess hadn’t really figured out what she wanted. Apart from chocolate and things on wheels, she hadn’t really had time to form any passions for anything like the other children had.
 
Bess sighed and went back to her Driver’s Handbook … maybe Spike would have time soon to teach her to drive … maybe she’d get a poster of a fast car for the other wall. Tonight she was supposed to patrol with Faith, but maybe tomorrow night Spike could teach her to drive. She asked why Buffy couldn’t do it while the kids were in school, but that idea was met with only hysterical laughter from Spike…
 
**~**
 
(Two days later), Sunday, May 16th, 2010, 11am:

 

“Oh! Bess, check this out!” Buffy exclaimed excitedly, reading from the Sunday morning paper after breakfast. “‘Lifeguard Certification Course. The Sunnydale YMCA is offering a Lifeguard Certification Course starting Saturday, June 19th.’” Buffy looked up from the paper to look at Bess across the ‘bat cave’, looking over the heads of Dani, Billy, and JJ who were on the couch, in order to see their eldest daughter. She and Spike were sitting on the floor, he was helping her, giving her pointers and advice, as they all played some race car video game that Buffy didn’t pretend to understand. “You like to swim … you might like that,” Buffy suggested.
 
Buffy had been trying to find something to spark some outside interest for Bess, something to get her out of the house and mingling with actual people who weren’t them. She had scheduled Bess to start adult night classes in mid-June, after regular school let out, to get her GED. The assessment exam, to see what grade level she was at now so they would know where to start her, was a couple of weeks from now on a Wednesday morning. This Lifeguard class started after that and it was during the day, so it wouldn’t interfere with the GED classes – it would work perfectly.
 
Bess shrugged slightly, then nodded, never taking her eyes off the TV screen as she careened her car around a corner, shifting her body to the side and matching the movements on the screen, barely squeezing through between the wall and JJ's car in her quest for victory over the other kids. “Yeah … that might be fun,” she agreed. She did like to swim and she was trying to fit in. She knew the other kids had outside interests: soccer and gymnastics and dancing … maybe hers could be swimming.
 
“Great,” Buffy smiled, happy with herself for finally finding something that she thought Bess would like, and Lifeguarding kinda fit in with Slaying … well … sort of, in completely opposite ways. Well, they both involved helping people, so it wasn’t all that different.

Suddenly Bess shrieked in victory as Billy's car careened off the wall and spun out just as Bess passed him and the checkered flag waved on the TV while the game declared her the winner. Bess hugged Spike's neck and then jumped up to do a victory dance ... it was the first time she'd won any of the video games that the other kids had taught her. Everyone, even the losers, laughed at Bess' excitement at finally defeating the younger, more experienced players. Well, at least she was a gracious winner ... victory lap around the couch notwithstanding.
 
(later the same day) Sunday, May 16th, 2010, 9pm:
 
 
“Steep grade.
 
“Come to a complete stop, look both ways, then go when cross traffic is clear.
 
“School crossing; watch for and yield to pedestrians.
 
“Rail Road Crossing. Watch for trains.
 
“Slippery when wet.
 
“Divided highway.
 
“Workers… uhh … working.
 
“No parking.”
 
Bess smiled proudly as Spike pointed to different signs in the driver’s handbook and she told him what each one meant. Buffy was upstairs getting the kids ready for bed; it was Spike’s night off … if Bess could pass this bit, he was sure to let her drive tonight.
 
“What side o’ the road do we drive on here?” Spike questioned.
 
“The right,” Bess replied confidently.
 
“What do you do if you’re going over the speed limit and you come up on a copper sittin’ on the side of the road?” Spike questioned.
 
Bess furrowed her brow … she didn’t remember that in the handbook. “Slow down?” she guessed.
 
“Too late to slow down, they done hit ya with their soddin’ radar… what do you do?” Spike questioned further.
 
“Ummm … I don’t know,” Bess admitted, her shoulders sagging. She’d read that damn book ten times, she didn’t remember anything about that.
 
“Watch in your rearview, if he don’t pull out, then just keep going; if he does, turn into the first crowded parkin’ lot you can find, park, and duck down in the car or hightail it into the store…” Spike advised.
 
Bess raised her brows – that definitely was not in the book. “Run and hide?” she questioned.
 
“Works over half the time…” Spike assured her with a smirk.
 
“Is that legal?” Bess wondered.

 

“Not running ... just choosing to shop suddenly,” Spike pointed out with a shrug. “Free country … Can park in any parking lot you bloody well want.
 
“Ok …” Spike continued, waving his arm towards the door leading to the garage. “Time to find out who you inherited your drivin’ skills from, me or your mum…”
 
Bess smiled gleefully and jumped up off the couch, ran to the garage and jumped into the driver’s seat of the DeSoto before Spike was even halfway across the great room.
 
“No bloody way …” he chastised her. “Nobody drives Vader but me…” Spike explained, holding up the keys to the minivan and tilting his head towards the driveway. The kids had named the old, black monstrosity ‘Darth Vader’ some years ago … it seemed to suit the old car.

 

Bess frowned … she was sure the black behemoth would be much faster and more fun than the blue minivan. She got out of the car despondently and headed past Spike’s Harley towards the driveway and the minivan. “Will you teach me to drive the motorbike, too?” she asked, running a hand over the seat of the Harley as she passed.
 
Spike’s brows shot up. “Let’s see whose driving genes ya got first, pet…”
 
Spike shooed her over to the passenger seat and he drove the Blue Bomber to the deserted parking lot at the mall, pointing out the different controls on the dash to her as he drove. Bess watched with rapt attention to everything he was showing her: the speedometer, in miles and kilometers per hour … don’t get those confused, the fuel gauge, the gas pedal, the brake, the transmission gear selector … on and on it went.
 
**~**
 
“WOOOO-HOOOO!” Bess screamed in delight as she sped Buffy’s Blue Bomber across the deserted parking lot before slamming both feet down on the brake and turning the wheel hard to the right, sending the minivan into a 360° spin, just like she’d seen on TV.
 
“Bloody fucking hell!” Spike exclaimed as he braced his feet against the dash and held onto the handle above the door.
 
When the van came to a stop, Spike quickly reached over and turned the key off before Bess could take off again.
 
“What’d you do that for!?” she questioned, reaching for the ignition, but being thwarted by Spike who still had a hold of the key.

 

“’Cos you’re gonna get us both bloody killed!” Spike chastised her, leaving one hand on the key and shifting the van into park with the other. "It's not a soddin' video game!"
 
“I know it's not ... and no one got killed … it’s fun! Didn’t you think it was fun!?” she questioned, her eyes wide with excitement.
 
“Maybe if we were on a ride at Disneyland that’d be fun!” Spike continued to rant, pulling the key out of the ignition. “Not in your mum’s bloody car! Bloody hell! You coulda’ rolled the soddin’ thing … if that didn’t kill us, your mum woulda!”
 
Bess had started out really well, easily following Spike’s instructions to speed up or slow down or stop, turn right and left, she even backed up over a hundred yards, keeping the van in a perfectly straight line, and pulled into parking places with no problem. Spike had started to think that she had inherited his driving skills … now he wasn’t so sure. Somewhere in there Evel Knievel had snuck in to the DNA … on the plus side, she certainly didn’t have any fear of driving and she handled the spin like a seasoned stunt driver … albeit, one high on recreational drugs.

 

Bess folded her arms over her chest and her bottom lip protruded in a dangerous pout. “I didn’t hurt it …” she pointed out.
 
“Not this time …” Spike muttered. “That’s not exactly ‘Defensive Drivin’ 101’ … c’mon – out ya go,” Spike instructed, waving his hand at her, shooing her out of the driver’s seat.
 
Bess frowned and her shoulders sagged as she unbuckled her seatbelt and opened the door. Spike slid over to the driver’s seat as Bess walked around and got back in the passenger’s side.
 
“I’ll get your mum to sign you up for Driver’s Ed… you can wreck their bloody cars,” Spike informed her as he started the van and headed for home with his dejected passenger.
 
“I guess that means you won’t teach me to drive the motorbike,” Bess moaned.
 
“That’d be a bloody brilliant guess…”
 
**~**

(Later that week), Wednesday, May 19th, 2010, 6pm:

Buffy rushed in after working all day at the Magic Box laden with pizza boxes. She'd told Spike earlier that she had a craving for pizza; real, honest-to-goodness, all American, take-out pizza from Little Italy, and by God, she was gonna have some. He didn't argue, despite the extra cost of the 'delicacy', it was less work for him, and he always voted for that. He had her pick up a triple order of spicy wings to go with it, for him and Dani – plus Bess had never had them, so she could try them too.

While Buffy was gathering up some 'extras' to go on her pizza, the kids dug into the boxes greedily. Pepperoni with extra cheese was the fan favorite, although JJ also liked the ones with sausage and, although Spike's favorite thing from Little Italy was the extra hot spicy wings, he wouldn't pass up a slice of the 'works' pizza that had everything but the kitchen sink tossed on.

"Ewwwww ... what's that!?" Annie asked with undisguised revulsion as she opened one of the boxes.

Buffy turned away from the cupboards where she was pulling out some extra toppings for her pizza and looked. "Anchovies. Don't touch, that's mine," she insisted as she came to the table with her other goodies to go on top.

"Yeah... I'll try to restrain myself from eating the smelly fish," Annie assured her, closing the box quickly and pushing it away.

"That's gross ..." Billy agreed, looking at his mom. "When did you start eating little fish on your pizza?"

"It's your mum's traditional anchovy pregnancy phase," Spike explained with a smirk as he divvied up the spicy wings between himself, Dani, and Bess. "I'd go for one of the others if I was you, pet... might lose a hand if you try for the little salty fishes," he instructed Bess as Buffy pulled the anchovy-laden pizza to her end of the table and sat down.

"I don't remember an anchovy phase ..." Annie pointed out.

"Oh, I had it," Buffy assured her. "You probably just didn't know what they were then. Back when you were young and impressionable you ate them with me ... you liked them too."

Annie made a face that conveyed both disbelief and disgust as she got her a piece of the pepperoni with extra cheese. "It's a wonder any of us have survived..." she muttered under her breath, trying to shake the thought of eating those nasty little fish.

Buffy worked on her own creation ... she'd been starving for this for days it seemed, as everyone talked and laughed and asked Bess how she liked the different things. Bess nodded her approval of the pepperoni with extra cheese ... unable to talk since her mouth was full to overflowing with the wonder of the all-American, Italian classic. After a few minutes, though, just as Buffy was about to take a bite of her pizza, everyone seemed to go quiet. She raised her eyes up from her creation as she took a bite and saw everyone cringe in horror, even Spike.

"Please tell me I never ate that..." Annie begged, looking at her father.



Spike shook his head and swallowed the bite of chicken wings he had in his mouth with great difficulty. His throat seemed to have constricted ... nearly closing completely in response to what he saw his wife eating. He'd seen some horrific things in his life ... throats torn out, guts used for garters, men flayed alive ... he even endured the torture of listening to an entire Barry Manilow Double-Live album when he was in a wheelchair during Angelus' stay with him and Dru ... but this ... this defied description.



"What?" Buffy questioned innocently, before taking another big bite of her pizza.

"Buffy ... luv ... you really shouldn't mix cravings like that – it's not ... it's not good for the bit ... it's bloody tragic is what it is," Spike informed her.

"It's not my fault! It's what the baby says it wants ... so, actually, it's your fault – Dad," Buffy defended.

"Oh, right ... blame the bloody vampire," Spike muttered under his breath as he sent up small prayer of thanks for the constriction in his throat, at least it was keeping what was already in his stomach down there.

"Anyway, I'm the one that's gonna blow up like a beach ball here ... I have the right to eat whatever I want!" she continued before taking another bite. All the kids dropped their pizzas back on their plates and just stared in wide-eyed horror at the woman who a moment ago had been their mother (or aunt, in the case of JJ) ... now they weren't so sure; perhaps she'd been taken over by a Gross-Out Demon or something. Even Bess had to think what Buffy was eating sounded, looked, and smelled ... bad.

"You know I'd never deny ya anything, pet ... but mixing the peanut butter craving, with the pickle craving, and the anchovy craving, along with the Marshmallow Fluff craving, and topping it all with chocolate sprinkles ..." Spike made a face that mirrored the children's ... utter gross out. "It just shouldn't be done in polite company, luv."

Buffy just shrugged and took another bite, moaning in pleasure. "Don't knock it until you've tried it," she informed them with her mouth still half-full. Buffy reached her hand that held the rest of the 'doctored' pizza slice out towards the group. "Here ..." she offered as a large dollop of Marshmallow Fluff dripped off the pizza, carrying one of the anchovies with it, and splattered on the table.

"Ewwwwwwwwwwww!" they all moaned, pushing back from the table in unison and away from her pregnancy pizza.

Buffy shrugged and took another bite. "Suit yourselves, but you don't know what you're missing! How can you know you don't like it if you've never tried it?"

"I'm never gonna have a baby if it does that to you," Annie declared.

Spike nodded his hearty agreement. "Smart girl, you are, pet. Probably be best to just avoid boys altogether ... forever ... just t' be safe."

"Daaaaad!" Annie moaned, rolling her eyes.

**~**

End Notes:
Continued in next chapter.... (too long to fit in one).

Show of hands: How many of us have a little Evel in us? Who among us hasn't taken Mom or Dad's car and done a 360 degree spin in it? ... anyone?.... ... Don't tell me I'm the only one!! It is totally cool ... and scary as hell! LOL! No, my dad was *not* in the car with me at the time ...
Runaway Train, Part 2 by Passion4Spike
Author's Notes:
Continued from previous chapter ...
(a week later), Wednesday, May 26th, 2010, 8am, UC Sunnydale, Espenson Auditorium:
 
Buffy handed the clipboard with Bess’ completed GED class registration form back to the woman behind the table as she and Bess sat down opposite her.
 
“Elizabeth Anne Weckerly…” the woman began reading, “eighteen…” the woman paused and looked back up at Bess and then at Buffy and back to Bess. “Do you have a photo id?”
 
“Yeah …sure,” Buffy answered, pulling Bess’ passport out and handing to the woman.
 
The woman, whose name tag read ‘Mrs. Baxter’, looked back up at the two women. “And you are her … mother?” she asked Buffy skeptically.
 
“Yes … Buffy Weckerly,” Buffy replied nodding.
 
The woman furrowed her brow then shrugged.
 
“Is there a problem?” Buffy wondered, thinking maybe she filled the form out wrong.
 
“No … no … it’s just that she doesn’t look eighteen and you don’t look old enough to have a daughter that’s eighteen…” the woman explained.

 

“Oh, well … our whole family’s like that … good genes,” Buffy explained giving the woman her most sincere smile.
 
“Lucky…” Mrs. Baxter murmured as she looked back down at the form. “You didn’t fill out what grade she’d last attended …”
 
“Well, I really don’t know … she’s been living overseas with … uhhhh … relatives and it was kind of a home-school situation. They were pretty cut-off from civilization,” Buffy explained.
 
“Missionaries, huh?” Mrs. Baxter guessed.
 
Buffy smiled and nodded. “Yeah, something like that…”
 
Mrs. Baxter’s brow furrowed as she flipped the empty pages of Bess’ passport … only two stamps … an exit stamp from the UK and an entry stamp into the USA. “I didn’t realize there was a big demand for missionaries in England… or that there were lots of places in the UK that were cut-off from civilization,” the woman observed, looking back up at Buffy.
 
“Oh … well … you’ve obviously never been to Wales. I mean, all those … uhhh … shepherds … they need all the help they can get … what with the itchy, wool sweaters and the rocks and the rain and ... did I mention the rocks? It's very dire ... and rocky,” Buffy stammered.

 

The woman looked a little skeptical, but shrugged. “Ok, well then, since you aren’t sure what grade level she is, I’ll sign her up for the full assessment test and we can go from there …” the woman summarized. “It will be three, two hour sessions and there are thirty minute breaks between each session. The testing starts at nine, so she’ll be done at four this afternoon…”
 
“Does she need anything? Number two pencils? A slide rule?” Buffy wondered.
 
“No … just some money for lunch or sodas – we provide everything else. We do need a check for the tuition now … and there will be a fee for the actual GED exam at the end of the class,” Mrs. Baxter told Buffy.
 
“Right …” Buffy tried not to moan as she pulled her beleaguered checkbook out of her purse and wrote a check for the tuition.
 
As Buffy was writing the check, the woman looked at Bess, who was looking more than a little worried. “There’s nothing to worry about, dear,” Mrs. Baxter assured her. “You can’t fail … it’s just an assessment. If you don’t know the answer, it’s perfectly alright, don’t guess, just skip it and go on to the next question. If you have time, you can come back to the ones you skipped and see if you can figure them out, but it’s best to not guess, if you guess right, that could skew the results and get placed in the wrong program.”
 
Bess nodded, wringing her hands in her lap and trying to think of a way to escape …
 
“You can wait over there,” the woman pointed off to one side of the auditorium, “…for your name to be called when they’re ready for you.”
 
Buffy put her hand on Bess’s shoulder, making the nervous girl jump. “C’mon …” Buffy cajoled as she stood up and Bess followed her to some seats to join the other lambs that were waiting for slaughter.
 
“I don’t think I can do this…” Bess admitted when they sat down, nearing a full blown panic attack.

 

“Honey, it’s just an assessment test. You heard her … you can’t fail it. Those are my kinda tests! I wish we had those when I was in school…” Buffy assured her.
 
Bess took a deep breath and nodded, but the butterflies in her stomach remained unconvinced.
 
**~**
 
(Same day), 9:00am:
 
Bess had listened closely to the man overseeing the exams when he explained how to fill out the little dots completely on the computer-readable answer sheet with the number two pencils they’d been provided. They can write in the test booklet to figure out their answers if they like, but the thing that matters for the score is the little dot being filled in fully.
 

Bess looked around her at the other students when the examiner instructed them to ‘open their tests and begin’ and she copied what they did, breaking the seal on the test and opening it to the first page. The first exam was math … of all subjects, math was Bess’ worst, but she told herself to just try. The first few pages weren’t bad … basic addition and subtraction, multiplication and division … she actually started feeling pretty good about this. Maybe she was smarter than she thought … then she came to the math word problems, the first couple weren’t too bad, but the further she went, the harder they got…
 
Three men go to stay at a motel and the clerk charges them $30.00 for the room.
They split the cost ten dollars each. Later the manager tells the clerk that he over-charged the men and that the actual cost should have been $25.00.
He gives the clerk $5.00 and tells him to give it to the men. But he decides to cheat them and pockets $2.00. He then gives each man a dollar.
Now each man has paid $9.00 to stay in the room and 3 X $9.00 = $27.00. The clerk pocketed $2.00. $27.00 + $2.00 = $29.00. So where is the other $1.00?
 
a. The motel manager kept it
b. The clerk kept it
c. The guests kept it
d. There is no extra $1 to locate

{The answer to this question, which yes, is a trick question, is at the very end of the chapter}


Bess read it again and again, looking around at the other students who seemed to be still marking answers on their answer sheets. She blew out a long breath and read it again … shaking her head and chewing on her bottom lip. She started to just pick one answer, but remembered the woman saying she shouldn’t guess, so she left it blank and went on.
 
Bess chewed on her pencil with nervous frustration as she continued reading the word problems, skipping one after another. She sighed in relief when she got to the end of that section, but her relief was short-lived and replaced with utter confusion when she turned the page …
 
1. 26 = 8 + v
 
2. m + 4 = -12
 
3. -20 = -4x – 6x


 
Bess stared at the page, blinking her eyes and shaking her head a bit to try and make the equations make sense … but they never changed. When did they start using the alphabet in math?
 
Bess flipped further through the rest of test booklet … it only got worse, with more letters mixed in with the numbers and more symbols she didn’t recognize. She blew out a long breath and looked around the room again … everyone was still busy scribbling on their test booklets and marking answers on the answer sheets. She looked at her sheet … she’d only filled in about a quarter of the possible answers. Bess’ shoulders sagged … she knew this was a bad idea before it ever started. What did she think, that she was somehow gonna get smarter in the dungeon? Somehow develop an actual brain? Why did she let Buffy and Spike talk her into this? It’s completely ludicrous and … embarrassing and … crushing. Bess clenched her jaw and blinked back her tears; she swallowed hard as she looked around the room again … everyone was still working … everyone but her.
 
Bess suddenly felt an overwhelming urge to run … to escape this humiliation, get away from these people, and get out of this place where she obviously didn’t belong. Bess hurriedly gathered up her test booklet and answer sheet and pencils and headed for the door.
 
“I’m sorry miss … you can’t take that out of the room,” the man sitting at the desk near the door informed her.
 
Bess looked down at the papers in her hand and bit her bottom lip before dropping them all on the desk in front of the examiner. When he saw so few answers filled in, he told her, “There’s more time…”
 
“Not for me,” Bess retorted as she ran out of the building and into the bright sunlight in the quad … and just kept running.
 
She stopped running when she got to a street that bisected the campus. She paused on the sidewalk and looked up and down the road, trying to decide which way to go, when a beautiful blue motorcycle parked next to the curb caught her eye. Bess walked over to it and ran a hand over the handlebars, across the cerulean blue gas tank and along the padded seat as she admired it.

 

“She’s a beaut, ain’t she?” a male voice asked from right behind her and Bess jumped and turned quickly, pulling her hand away from the motorcycle and trying to look innocent.
 
A tall, well built young man of about twenty-one stood behind her. He was at least six foot two inches tall, had long black hair that hung past his shoulders in tight, soft waves, the muscles of his arms and chest bulged against the fabric of his ‘Pittsburgh Steeler’s’ t-shirt, and his legs looked like denim covered tree-trunks. His dark bronze skin was flawless, the color of a Mocha Frappuccino, and his bright eyes sparkled against it like bright, bottomless jewels of aquamarine behind a soft veil of long, dark lashes.

 

Bess nervously pulled her eyes away from his and looked back at the motorcycle. “Yes … it’s beautiful. Is it yours?” she asked.
 
“Mine and the bank’s,” the young man informed her. “I’m Troy, by the way … Troy Malu,” he offered, extending his right hand.
 
“Oh … uhhh, Bess, Bess Weatherford,” Bess replied, taking his hand and shaking it firmly as Spike had taught her after her hesitancy to shake JJ’s hand when she first arrived.
 
“Whoa! Gotta grip on ya! That’s rad! Most girls are like …” Troy waved his hand back and forth, letting his fingers wag like a wet noodle.
 
“Sorry … I … I didn’t hurt you did I?” Bess apologized.
 
 “A little girl like you? Not likely …” Troy snorted a laugh. “So … I haven’t seen you around before, you new?”
 
“Yeah … uhhh … new,” Bess agreed. “Are you … from Pittsburgh?”
 
“Huh? Oh … the shirt … no,” Troy told her, looking down at his t-shirt. “Hawai’i actually … I just like Steelers football.
 
“Sooo… you like motorcycles or just like blue?” Troy asked her, cocking a brow at his bike.
 
“Oh … both,” Bess gushed, looking back at the motorcycle.
 
“You wanna ride?” he asked, giving her a dazzling white smile.
 
Bess’ eyes went wide. “Oh, yes!” she exclaimed, turning her excited eyes back to look at him.
 
“I’m warning ya, I go fast … and it can get rough,” Troy’s voice rumbled deeply, making Bess wonder if they were still talking about the motorcycle.
 
Bess bit her bottom lip and gave him a shy smile. “I like fast… and rough.”
 
Troy squealed out a donut in the middle of the road before speeding away towards the coast with his eager passenger. Bess held on to him tightly and laughed in delight as the wind whipped around her body and the powerful machine thundered under her. This was waaaay better than any stupid test … she felt like she belonged here, she fit in, and she knew what to do.
 
After about half an hour of riding along the Coast Highway, Troy pulled off onto a dirt track and rode it up to a high cliff that overlooked the highway and the ocean beyond. Bess’ whole body felt like it was thrumming with energy from the reckless, wild ride he’d taken her on coming north on the winding ribbon of road. She jumped off the bike when he cut the engine and took in the view of the Pacific Ocean which was laid out before her like a sparkling blue magic carpet. She almost felt like she could glide down from the cliff and fly out over it – skim the waves and soar with the sea gulls … And it seemed to go on forever … meeting the equally blue sky on the horizon and melding with it, like the two had been forged from the same heavenly spirit.

 

“Only thing bluer than that is the North Shore of Oahu … or maybe your eyes,” Troy whispered as he walked up behind her and wrapped his arms around her shoulders.
 
Bess smiled and leaned back against him … yeah … this she knew … there were no alphabet soup math problems here; this was where she belonged, not in some florescent lit, musty building with number two pencils and impossible questions that had no bearing on real life. This was real; the tang of the sea, the feel of the cool breeze on her face, the warm sun on her skin, a man’s strong arms around her … this made her feel alive.
 
Bess turned in Troy’s arms and lifted up on her tiptoes as she wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him. If she played her cards right, she was sure she could get Troy to teach her how to drive a motorbike … even if Spike wouldn’t.
 
**~**
 
(later that same day), 4:15 pm:
 
Buffy pulled up to the curb in front of the auditorium … she hadn’t even gotten the minivan into park yet when Bess seemingly showed up from out of nowhere and jumped into the passenger’s seat next to her.
 
“So … how did it go?” Buffy asked expectantly.
 
“Great!” Bess replied with a wide smile. “It wasn’t as bad as I thought…”

 

Buffy smiled and patted a hand down on Bess’ shoulder. “I told you … you’re gonna be a high school graduate before you know it!”
 
Bess nodded and looked out the window … just catching a glimpse of Troy and his pretty blue motorcycle as he turned the corner and sped away in the opposite direction. A shadow of guilt passed over Bess’ features … she didn’t want to lie to Buffy, but she was sure Spike and Buffy would never understand that school just wasn’t where she belonged, she just didn't have the brains for that … what they didn’t know, wouldn’t hurt them.
 
**~**
 
Buffy signed Bess up for a beginners Driver’s Ed course, per Spike’s adamant request … it was over $800 for twelve hours! Buffy argued that it was crazy to pay that much for a driver’s ed class when they could teach her just as well … but Spike would not be swayed. It wasn’t until he told her what Bess did with Buffy’s minivan that Buffy finally agreed … let her tear up someone else’s car.
 
The company giving the lessons came and picked Bess up at the mansion three days a week for two weeks for her lessons and, at the end of the six sessions they let her use one of their cars to take her driving test. She passed. Despite all that, she still wasn’t allowed to drive the minivan without either Spike or Buffy in the car with her and never if any of the other kids were in the car. At least, not until they were certain that her Evel Knievel phase was past. To say Bess was disappointed would be an understatement…
 
“But that’s not fair!” Bess argued when Spike and Buffy told her the rules after she’d gotten her license. “It’s not a learner’s permit, it’s a real license! I didn’t wreck any cars … ask the teacher … I did fine!”

 

“Bess, you’re still learning your way around … still getting used to everything, to the area …” Buffy tried to explain. “I think Spike’s right … it would be best this way for a while.”
 
“It’s not fair,” Bess repeated, crossing her arms over her chest as her bottom lip protruded in a classic Summers pout. “You wouldn’t do this if it was Annie or Dani …”
 
Buffy shrugged. “Maybe … maybe not … they grew up here, they know their way around, they know places to avoid and, when they’re sixteen, they’ll have a lot more experience in a car than you have right now …they’ll have had a year with a learner’s permit; you had never even ridden in a car before a month ago …” Buffy pointed out.
 
Fine …” Bess hissed before stomping up the stairs to her room in a huff.
 
Buffy rolled her eyes and sighed heavily, looking at Spike. “You weren’t much help…”
 
Spike shrugged. “I made sure the back door was closed so the bloody cat couldn’t escape…”
 
**~**
 
(3 ½ weeks later), Saturday, June 19th, 2010:
 
Buffy was starting to feel like a taxi service … running kids here and there and everywhere. Dropping them off, picking them up … just remembering where they were supposed to be and when was starting to be a problem.
 
She looked at the clock on the dashboard, 3:49pm … she was nearly twenty minutes late picking Bess up from the YMCA Lifeguard Certification Class that started today. Buffy pulled up at the curb, expecting Bess to bound into the minivan from out of nowhere like she often did … but after waiting for five minutes with the motor running, it was apparent that wasn’t happening.
 
Buffy cut the engine and went inside, walking through the gym area to the pool at the back of the complex and found Bess hadn’t even gotten changed yet … in fact, she was still swimming laps!

 

“Bess! C’mon! We gotta go! We’re gonna be late picking up Annie!” Buffy yelled, but Bess didn’t seem to hear her. Buffy sighed and walked up to the end of the pool and waited for Bess to make it to her.
 
“BESS!” Buffy yelled before the girl went completely under the water for a flip-turn. Bess pulled up short and lifted her head out of the water when she heard her name.
 
“Buffy!” Bess exclaimed, looking at the clock on the wall. “Oh … sorry, I was just gonna swim a little bit more before you got here…”
 
“We need to go … c’mon … you can swim more next time,” Buffy prodded, going over and grabbing Bess’ towel off a chair. Despite being a little upset that Bess wasn’t ready to go, Buffy was happy that the girl seemed to be enjoying it, at least.
 
“Ok,” Bess agreed, lifting herself up out of the water and taking the towel from Buffy’s hand. “Guess what!” Bess started excitedly as she dried off. “They want me to be on their swim team! Isn’t that amazing!? Coach Sumner said I was the best swimmer she’s seen in ten years! They have swim meets and compete against other clubs and we could go to state or even national championships … even the Olympics!” Bess gushed as she dried her hair.

 

Buffy’s brow furrowed and she pursed her lips together in thought. “Bess … I’m not sure that’s such a good idea…” Buffy began gently. “First of all, you’re a Slayer … you can’t use your abilities for things that aren’t … well … that aren’t for the greater good. And second of all, you’re a vampire … you’ll never pass the physical to compete in things like that…”
 
Bess sobered as a dark shroud of disappointment descended over her features. “You’re saying I can’t be on the team? But … but I told them I would … I … I want to,” Bess begged, on the verge of tears.
 
“Oh, honey … I’m sorry,” Buffy apologized. “But … you can’t – even if we could get around the physical, you can’t use your strength and Slayer abilities for things that aren’t … well … they’re for fighting evil, helping people, not winning swim meets and going to the Olympics. It really wouldn’t be fair for the other swimmers, would it?”
 
Bess crossed her arms over her chest and rolled her glistening eyes skyward, trying hard not to let the tears fall. She’d finally found something that both she and Buffy and Spike thought was good for her, and now they were pulling the rug out from under her feet again.
 
“Bess … I’m sorry,” Buffy offered gently, reaching a hand out to touch her arm.
 
Bess jerked away from her and headed towards the locker room to change. “Whatever…” she groaned out as she walked away … using another expression she’d picked up from the kids.
 
Buffy blew out a long breath and closed her eyes. This sucked. It totally sucked. It sucked to the power of ten… but Buffy couldn’t let Bess compete on a swim team, no matter how much she wanted to. It simply wasn’t fair to the other competitors and it wasn’t what Slayer power was meant to be used for.
 
Back at the car, Buffy waited in the passenger’s seat … she’d let Bess drive to the dance studio to pick up Annie. But, when Bess came out after changing, she climbed into the back of the minivan and went to the last row of seats and plopped down – as far away from Buffy as she could get. Buffy sighed and transferred over to the driver’s seat … she couldn’t see Bess in the rearview mirror, but anytime she glanced back, Bess’ eyes were glued out the side window, a dour frown on her face … she wouldn’t even look at Buffy.
 
**~**
 
(4 days later), Wednesday, June 23rd, 2010, 4:30pm:

 

“So, you haven’t found anything?” Buffy questioned as she sat in her office talking on the phone with Willow.
 
“Well, a little bit,” Willow divulged. “I found another copy of the Sanctus Mica Sanguis, the book that led Spike to the Gem in the first place, but I’m still working on translating it, and … it’s not in the best condition, pages are missing … some of the ink’s smeared…”
 
“Soooo … you have found something?” Buffy prodded.
 
“Maybe,” Willow hedged. “I’d rather make sure before …”
 
“Will! Please, tell me what you found out … I need to know if we’re going to need to talk Spike into playing ‘musical Gem’ or if you can duplicate it so they can both have it,” Buffy pled with her friend.
 
Willow sighed. “There might be more than one ring…”
 
“What?! Where!?” Buffy exclaimed excitedly, sitting up straighter in her chair.
 
“That’s the thing … I’m not even sure I’m translating it right and it’s smudged and …”
 
“Willow … how do we find the other ring?” Buffy questioned.
 
“I don’t know… obviously Marcus didn’t find it in the crypt … and you and Spike didn’t find it and we don’t know of any other vampires walking around in the sun all un-dusty,” Willow explained. “I’m still working on it …”
 
“What can I do to help?” Buffy wondered.
 
Willow shook her head. “I dunno … how’s your ancient Latin?”
 
Buffy snorted a laugh. “Oesday igpay atinlay ountcay?”
 
“Onay…” Willow replied with an eye roll. “Sorry, Buffy … I’m working on it as hard as I can,” she apologized.
 
“I know you are … it’s ok, I really appreciate it,” Buffy sighed, leaning back again. “Can Annie help? I don’t think they’ve tackled dead languages, but she picks that stuff up fast…”
 
Willow sighed. “Actually, it’s not so much the translation as trying to fill in the missing parts that’s the problem,” Willow told her. “But … maybe I’ll email her some of the pages, just to see if she has any ideas.”
 
“Ok … I’ll let her know to watch for it,” Buffy agreed.
 
“So … how are things there?” Willow asked, changing the subject. “How’s Bess?”
 
“Bess is … she’s fine … she’s a century old teenager, and a Slayer, and a vampire … it’s not the easiest thing in the world to be…” Buffy admitted.
 
“Yeah … I seem to vaguely recall just being a teenager was hard enough,” Willow agreed.
 
“But I love having her here … and the other kids love her too … she’s really fitting in. I think everything’s gonna be alright … just some growing pains, but I think she’s adjusting and finding herself,” Buffy told her friend sincerely. “She’s learned to drive and she’s shown she can be responsible behind the wheel … I’ll probably let her start driving on her own soon, even with the kids in the car. That’ll really be a big help to have someone who can help taxi everyone around and I know she’ll love doing it.”
 
“What about … you know…” Willow asked, changing the subject.
 
Buffy rolled her eyes, picked up the stack of bills off her desk, and flipped through them idly. “We now officially have more money going out than we do coming in…”
 
“What about what the Council is paying you guys?”
 
Buffy snorted a sarcastic laugh. “They’re so cheap! I mean, I know Giles is doing his best, but they're just squeaking by, trying to keep everything afloat. What they pay barely covers the extra blood and chocolate Bess eats,” Buffy exaggerated, rolling her eyes. “… And she’s totally hooked on Frappachinos … do you know how much those cost? Of course, I can't blame her ... I'm pretty hooked on them too. I’ve been working at the Magic Box helping Anya while Giles is in London, and that’s helped a little, but I’ve got to find some kind of a permanent job that pays decent money. Spike doesn’t want me to … I really don’t want to, either, but…”
 
“Maybe Tara and I could, you know, help …”

 

“No … don’t even go there, Wills. Spike would have a coronary, possibly an embolism ... or just a good old fashioned holy hissy fit. I got him to take that other money as a re-payment, but he already warned me that we weren’t taking any more … he said he’d take care of it. I don’t know how … He’s talking about working double-shifts at The Fish Bowl, but, even with overtime, that’s still nothing compared to what we’re spending on just normal stuff every week.
 
“Add to that the fact that I have to buy all new baby furniture and clothes since I gave all Billy and Dani’s stuff away ‘cos I was so sure I’d never do that again! And I promised them they could decorate their new rooms however they wanted, so I have to buy stuff for that … I promised bunk beds and Star Wars and bookcases … and these doctors want a small fortune every time you step foot in their office…” Buffy grumbled, still flipping through the unpaid credit card and doctor bills on her desk. “And don’t even get me started on dentists!”
 
“Do you still have any of the money left?” Willow wondered.
 
“Some … I’m trying to save it to pay the hospital and doctors when I have the baby … from what Giles told me your insurance paid for Eddie, I’ll just barely have enough, if there’re no complications and they don’t have to do a C-section…” Buffy explained to her friend.
 
“Then what are you gonna do, Buffy?”
 
Buffy shook her head and rubbed her eyes. “I have no idea … I’ve still got about half the mandrake, if I can keep the demon bunnies out of it … that’s about my only plan right now.”
 
**~**
 
Bess backed away from Buffy’s door after hearing only a small part of the conversation. She slipped back down the hall to her own room, Buffy’s words still ringing in her ears, “What they pay barely covers the extra blood and chocolate Bess eats … and she’s totally hooked on Frappachinos … do you know how much those cost!?” The girl hadn’t meant to eavesdrop, she was going to ask if it would be alright if she and Dani went to the park … but now she didn’t really feel like it.
 
Bess plopped down heavily onto her bed and curled up in a ball. She’d been trying so hard to help out … she babysat the kids when Buffy had to work late at the Magic Box or do stuff for Giles or run errands or go shopping, she was super careful with her driving – she never did donuts or even squealed the tires anymore, she cleaned up behind herself at home, didn’t leave wet towels on the floor, she even did the dishes most nights before going on patrol with Faith … sometimes she patrolled on her own when they thought she was in that stupid GED class three nights a week … of course, that depended on if she saw Troy on campus or not. But none of that really seemed to matter … she ate too much, she cost too much money … she didn’t belong here. Everything had been so much simpler before … she thought life outside the dungeon walls would be happy and easy, full of sunshine and laughter and freedom, but it wasn’t, and now she was just a burden to the people that had gotten her out.
 
Spike’s words to her when they’d first gotten free of the dungeon echoed in her mind after she told him she didn’t know how to not be alone. ‘No one knows how when they first start out, pet. That’s what your mum and me are here for … to show you how – to help you crawl, then stand, then walk, then run like the wind … We love you, Bess, and we’re so proud of you … we know you can do it.’
 
She guessed that was what they were trying to do with the GED thing … and the swimming and the driving lessons … but it felt like for every small step forward she made, she took two huge leaps backwards. She’d tried the GED test … she really, really had … but that was useless; she’d tried the Lifeguard class, but never went back after that first day, after Buffy told her she couldn’t join the swimming team, she just didn’t know what to say to them; she’d gone through all the driving classes and gotten her license, only to be told she still wasn’t ready to drive alone … she’d made one mistake and now she couldn’t be trusted. Bess was starting to feel like that square peg once again getting whittled down so she could fit into the round hole … just like she had in the dungeon.
 
**~**
 
(later that evening) 7:00pm
 
“Bess… time for dinner,” Buffy called through the closed door of Bess’ room later.
 
“I’m not hungry,” Bess replied solemnly from the other side.
 
“Not hungry? Are you sick?” Buffy questioned, before rolling her eyes as she remembered that vampires don’t get sick.
 
“No. I’m just not hungry.”
 
“Well, please come down anyway …” Buffy insisted. She and Spike had worked hard to make sure there was at least one meal they could both be at with all the kids … where everyone could talk about their days. “You don’t have to eat if you don’t want to.”

 

Bess sighed and rolled her eyes as she got up from the bed and opened her door. Buffy gave her a little smile and brushed some of her curls away from her face. “You ok?” Buffy asked.
 
“Fine…” Bess replied dryly as she slid by her and headed down the hall.
 
Bess barely said two words all through dinner, even when directly spoken to. She gave short answers: yes, no, fine … as she sipped on a glass of water and nothing else.
 
During a lull in the conversation, Spike looked at Bess and asked, “What’s on your mind?”
 
“Nothing …” Bess answered with a shrug.
 
“Well, I’ve seen empty minds ‘fore … but yours ain’t one of ‘em,” Spike prodded.
 
Bess rolled her eyes and sighed and Buffy thought that was what her own mom must’ve seen at least a million times. How many times had she answered with one syllable responses when her mom had wanted to talk? How many eye rolls? How many dramatic sighs? But Buffy couldn’t talk to her mom about being the Slayer … well, she thought she couldn’t, anyway … Bess didn’t have any epic secret to keep…
 
“Whatever it is, you can tell us, Bess,” Buffy assured her.
 
Bess sighed again, then looked at Buffy. “I want to get a job … I want to earn my own money – maybe buy my own car and clothes and stuff. Or is that against the rules, too?”
 
Buffy’s eyes met Spike’s across the table and he shrugged. Buffy looked back at Bess. “That’s … fine … yeah, if you want to get a job … but you need to work it around your classes and patrols,” Buffy agreed. “And, when Giles gets here, we’ll need you on the Council Governing Committee …”
 
Bess nodded. “That’s fine.”


"You know ... you have the money coming in from the Council. It's yours, you can have that if you want to buy..." Buffy began to offer.


"No – you can keep that for ... stuff," Bess declined, interrupting her.

 

“What kinda job you figure you’re gonna get, pet?” Spike wondered, hoping she didn’t think she was going to be able to get any kind of high paying … or even medium paying job with no GED and no work experience. She’d be lucky to find a job sweeping floors…
 
And the one word replies commenced again. “Dunno …” At least it was two syllables.
 
**~**
 
(a week later), Friday, July 2nd, 2010, 10:30am:
 
“Yes … yes, this will be splendid,” Giles agreed as he looked around the warehouse that Buffy and Faith had leased for the new home of the Watcher’s Council in Sunnydale.
 
The auction house back in London had, as promised, sold all the furnishings that had been in the headquarters in London and Giles and Wes had finally gotten the whole of the Council library, including what had been stored in the underground tunnels and at the castle, loaded into freight containers – it was all on the way to Sunnydale via cargo ship. There were also three, forty-foot cargo containers full of miscellany … boxes that contained magical supplies, talismans, orbs, medallions, and other trinkets that Giles and Wes would need to research before selling.  They’d listed both the castle and the headquarters building with a real estate agent but, in the meantime, they still had the upkeep on both places, as well as mortgages to pay, out of the proceeds of the auction. They’d also settled with the debtors that Travers had neglected to pay, and all the accounts had been un-frozen. Giles and Wes agreed that they shouldn’t give anyone any raises until the CGC (Council Governing Committee), which still had yet to be completely staffed, was actually governing the Council and an alternate source of ongoing funding could be secured for the Council to pay the Watchers and Slayers with.

 

The warehouse Buffy and Faith had chosen was perfect … there was some office space and room to build a training center, along with plenty of space to house the cargo containers until they could all be sorted through. There was even an area upstairs for further expansion later if need be.
 
“The phone company hooked up phones in all the offices …. here’s the number,” Buffy offered, handing Giles and Wes a paper with the new phone number on it. “And the cable company’s coming Monday to install internet connections and Willow’s sending six computers and three scanners … we figured part of the training of new Slayers could be scanning and indexing the books a couple of hours a day…” Buffy related.
 
“Oh … indeed … very good,” Giles agreed, happy that they didn’t think he was going to scan books into the computer.

 

“I believe we should formulate a plan for interviewing more Slayers and Watchers for the Apocalypse Leadership Team as well as the Council Governing Committee,” Wes suggested. “I thought you and Faith were going to begin that when you got back…”
 
Buffy sighed and rolled her eyes. “We were … life just got in the way; Faith has a the list of applicants, but we just haven't ... you know, gotten them here yet. You’re right, we need to get on that… you never know when an apocalypse will pop up.”
 
“Quite right … perhaps we could have our first sub-group meeting of the CGC this evening and come up with a plan to get moving on those issues…” Giles suggested.
 
“Sure… Oh – by the way, I commandeered one of the offices as a play room …” Buffy informed them, “…so we don’t have to hunt down a babysitter all the time.”
 
“Well, it certainly sounds like you’ve been asserting your authority…” Giles observed.
 
“Yeah … I’m really starting to like authority … as long as I’m the authority,” Buffy agreed with a smirk.
 
**~**
 
(later that evening), 9:00pm:
 
Bess had been doing a sweep through the cemeteries between UC Sunnydale, where her GED classes were, and Crawford Street for the last couple of weeks since the night classes started, often not getting home on those nights she had class until well after midnight. Since Giles wanted to have a CGC meeting this evening and Bess was on the CGC with Buffy, Wes, Giles, and Faith, Buffy drove out to the campus to pick Bess up after class. Buffy waited in the Blue Bomber just outside the doors Bess would have to come out … she watched the other students file out just after 9:00pm … but no Bess. Finally, at a quarter after, Buffy went into the classroom to find her daughter.
 
“Can I help you?” the instructor asked, looking up from her desk where she had been organizing some papers and putting them in her briefcase.
 
“Ummm … I was looking for Bess … Bess Weckerly,” Buffy told her, looking around the empty room.
 
“I’m afraid I don’t know anyone by that name…”

 

“She was … ummmm … This is the GED prep class, right?” Buffy wondered, thinking maybe she had the wrong room.
 
“Yes, but there’s no one by that name in it … Oh! Wait, do you mean Elizabeth?” the teacher asked, digging in her case for the class roster.
 
“Yes, Elizabeth Weckerly,” Buffy agreed, walking up to her desk.
 
“Right … no, she’s registered, but she’s never made it to class,” the teacher informed her, looking up from the attendance record.
 
Buffy let out a heavy sigh and shook her head. “Ok … thanks,” she offered as she turned and headed back out to the car.
 
“Bess … what are you doing?” Buffy muttered to herself as she put the minivan in gear and started driving the route Bess would walk if she were doing a patrol on the way home from the college campus. Needless to say, Buffy didn’t find Bess anywhere on that route, so she headed for the Bronze … the place that she always went when she was playing hooky from patrolling.
 
As Buffy drove past the alley behind the Bronze, she caught a glimpse of a thin blonde getting out of the passenger’s side of a car. Buffy stopped and backed up … she watched as Bess leaned back in the window, laughing at something the driver said, then stood up and backed away from the car, stuffing something into her purse.
 
“She’s doing drugs?!” Buffy exclaimed to herself, completely exasperated.
 
Buffy put the van in drive and turned off the main street into the alley, flooring the accelerator and pulling up beside Bess just as the other car vacated the spot.
 
“GET IN!” Buffy demanded through the open passenger’s window.
 
Bess stood there for a moment dumbfounded. “Why? I was just patrolling…” she lied.
 


“Bess … I may have been born at night, but I wasn’t born last night … you weren’t patrolling, and you haven’t been to the GED classes at all. Get in – we’re going home,” Buffy informed her tersely.
 
Bess stomped a foot down and folded her arms over her chest, but finally acquiesced and got in the van. Buffy didn’t say anything the whole way home … she was trying to calm down so she could talk to the girl rationally without completely losing her temper.
 
The mansion was empty when they got there. Spike had taken the DeSoto to work this night so he could drop the kids off at the new Council headquarters, where Buffy and Bess were supposed to be, before heading to The Fish Bowl to start his shift early, trying to rack up overtime pay.
 
“Sit,” Buffy instructed, pointing at the research table.
 
Bess plopped down heavily in one of the chairs, laying her purse on the table.
 
Buffy grabbed her purse and began pulling stuff out. “Hey! That’s mine!” Bess argued, jumping up.
 
“Sit. Down,” Buffy commanded, pushing Bess on the shoulder. Bess pushed back against her momentarily, but she finally gave in and dropped back onto her seat, folding her arms over her chest angrily.
 
“I can deal with a lot of things, but I won’t have you doing drugs. That’s not gonna fly around here …” Buffy began as she emptied the contents of Bess’ purse onto the table.
 
“I’m not doing drugs…” Bess defended, reaching for her wallet.
 
Buffy grabbed it off the table before Bess could get it and opened it ... but she didn’t find drugs, she found money … quite a bit of money. Buffy’s brows furrowed in confusion as she pulled wadded and crumpled hundreds and fifties out of Bess’ wallet and dropped them on the table.

 

“See? I told you I wasn’t doing drugs. Can I go now?” Bess questioned, gathering the money up.
 
“Bess … what … where did all that …” Buffy started when realization struck her. “Oh my God … Bess, you aren’t! You didn’t!”
 
“I got a job … you said I could,” Bess justified tersely as she stood up and began stuffing the money into the pockets of her jeans and gathering up the other things off the table that Buffy had pulled out and putting them back in her purse.

 

“Bess … that’s not a job! A job is ... is legal … a job is something you can be proud of ... tell your parents about … not hide in the alley and do while you lie about patrolling and going to class!” Buffy explained, still half in shock.
 
“I made five hundred and fifty dollars just tonight, would’ve been more by now if you hadn’t come along … how much did you make working at the Magic Box all week?” Bess rationalized to Buffy.
 
“Bess … that’s sooo not the point! This isn’t about money! This is about … self-respect! We didn’t risk our lives to get you out of that dungeon just so you can turn right around and sell yourself! We did it because we love you and want you to have a good life and that is not a good life! Spike didn’t give you the Gem so you could demean yourself by sneaking around in the dark, doing God knows what with God knows who!”
 
“Oh, like you’re some lily-white virgin!? You don’t think I can hear you and Spike … smell you two!? Vampire, remember!” Bess shot back, tapping a finger on her nose.
 
Buffy’s jaw dropped open slightly, she hadn’t really thought about what Bess could hear through the sound-proofing in their room … or smell. “That’s different, we’re married!” Buffy defended, a distinct feeling of déjà vu coming over her, hadn’t they had this conversation before? “Do you have any idea how hurt Spike’s gonna be?! How mad he’s gonna be? Do you have any idea what we sacrificed so you didn’t have to be a … a … a whore!” Buffy screamed at her.
 
“Oh, right, everything’s about YOU … you and Spike … la-te-da, well, guess what?! This isn’t about you, it’s about me! It’s my body! It’s my choice who I want to screw … and I’d rather the guy just give me the hundred bucks than spend it on dinner and wine and stupid movies or stinky ol' flowers!
 
“I’m not hurting anyone,” Bess continued her defensive rant. “Men want me … they like what I can do to them and I like doing it! They’ll pay a lot of money for it … for something I used to give away! Before I was just a slut … I’d rather be a whore … it pays a lot better!” Bess argued, as she slung her purse over her shoulder and turned away from Buffy, heading for the door.

 

Buffy ran around and got in front of her, blocking her exit. “I don’t understand you! We’ve given you everything you’ve wanted! We’ve tried to give you a normal life, a little bit of a childhood … Bess, we love you! Why would you do that!?”
 
Bess stared at her with a cold gaze and folded her arms over her chest as the humiliation of that GED test and the disappointment about the swim team and the frustration about not being able to drive by herself and all the other little things that she did that weren’t even noticed or weren’t good enough washed over her heart like a black shroud. “Oh … you give … you give alright … you dangle the carrot in front of me then you just yank it away! Well, I’m done having things yanked away from me – I’m tired of living by everyone else’s rules! I’m in charge of me now, not you – not Spike – ME!”
 
Bess sidestepped Buffy and started for the door again.
 
“I’m not done talking to you, young lady … get back here! This is a long way from over!” Buffy demanded.
 
Bess swung back around to face her. “I’m not young and I’m not a lady … I’m a vampire and I’m older than you!”
 
“I’m still your mother and …”
 
“YOU ARE *NOT* MY MOTHER!” Bess screamed at the top of her lungs. “Wanda was my mother! You are not my mother!”
 
“I *AM* YOUR MOTHER!” Buffy screamed back just as adamantly. “Elizabeth Anne Weckerly … I am your mother. Sit down – we are not done here!”
 
“Weatherford! My name is Weatherford and I’m done! I’m done with your rules and I’m done with doing my best only to be told that it’s not good enough and I’m done with you!” Bess continued to scream as tears welled in her eyes and she turned and started for the door again.
 
“Nothing I do is right, nothing is good enough! You don’t love me … you only love them!” Bess accused as she stormed away, waving her arm toward a photo of Annie, Dani, and Billy as she walked past it towards the door. “I don’t hear you complaining about how much they eat! Annie eats just as much chocolate as I do ... I don't hear you telling her she's costing you too much money! I don’t hear you telling them they can’t do things ‘cos ‘that’s not what their power is for’! I don't see you holding them back ... just me! I don't know why you even came and got me out of there!”

 

“What? I never …” Buffy began but Bess cut her off.
 
“I’m not your daughter, I'm not a child, and I’m not normal. Why don’t you stop pretending!!? Why don’t we all just stop pretending!?”
 
“That’s not true! None of that is true! We do love you!” Buffy defended, moving up behind her quickly. “Bess, stop! I forbid you to leave this house …” Buffy caught Bess’ arm and pulled her back.
 
“You can’t stop me!” Bess screeched, pushing Buffy off with a dangerous growl as gold flashed in her blue eyes, knocking Buffy to the floor before turning back towards the door that led to the garage.

“If you leave this house …” Buffy threatened furiously, as she got back up and started toward Bess. Suddenly her mother’s voice rang in Buffy’s head and stopped her in her tracks … ‘You walk out of this house, don't even *think* about coming back!’



Buffy shook her head to clear it and started towards the garage where Bess went. “Bess! Come back here!” she called, but before she could even get to the door, Buffy heard the Harley crank up.
 
By the time Buffy got into the garage, all she could see were the taillights as Bess sped out of the driveway on the motorcycle. “Bess! Damn it! Come back!” Buffy screamed after her, but she was gone.
 
Buffy heaved a deep breath from her lungs and dropped her chin to chest, rubbing her eyes tiredly as tears of anger and frustration and hurt stung them.
 
“Fuck…” Buffy muttered as she walked back in the house. She should’ve known … she should’ve known by the way Bess had pulled away from them lately that something was terribly wrong. When they first got back, she seemed ok … like she was fitting in, but something changed and Buffy was too preoccupied with everything else that was going on to figure it out. She’d let her down … again.
 
Spike? Buffy sent through the bond as she grabbed her own keys off the research table and ran back outside.
 
Yeah, luv?
 
Buffy wiped the tears from her eyes as she put the minivan into gear and headed out of the driveway in the same direction Bess had gone. I totally fucked up … I forgot to close the door and the cat ran away …

 
**~**

{{Click here to hear “Runaway Train” by Soul Asylum on YouTube  }}

 Why you're up in the middle of the night?
Like a firefly without a light
You were there like a blowtorch burning
I was a key that could use a little turning

So tired that I couldn't even sleep
So many secrets I couldn't keep
I promised myself I wouldn't weep
One more promise I couldn't keep

It seems no one can help me now,
I'm in too deep; there's no way out
This time I have really led myself astray

Runaway train, never going back
Wrong way on a one-way track
Seems like I should be getting somewhere
Somehow I'm neither here nor there

Can you help me remember how to smile?
Make it somehow all seem worthwhile
How on earth did I get so jaded?
Life's mystery seems so faded

I can go where no one else can go
I know what no one else knows
Here I am just a-drownin' in the rain
With a ticket for a runaway train

And everything seems cut and dried,
Day and night, earth and sky,
Somehow I just don't believe it

Runaway train, never going back
Wrong way on a one-way track
Seems like I should be getting somewhere
Somehow I'm neither here nor there

Bought a ticket for a runaway train
Like a madman laughing at the rain
A little out of touch, a little insane
It's just easier than dealing with the pain

Runaway train, never going back
Wrong way on a one-way track
Seems like I should be getting somewhere
Somehow I'm neither here nor there

Runaway train, never coming back
Runaway train, tearing up the track
Runaway train, burning in my veins
I run away but it always seems the same

**
Math question answer:

d. There is no extra $1 to locate

The problem is that the question is always cleverly phrased to conceal what is really going on.

First let's locate all that money.

There are two ways to think about how much money is out there to be found. The way that this question is tricky is that it combines that two ways.

The first way is this: How much money did the guys pay originally?

The second way is this: How much money did they end up paying?

So if it is the first way, then clearly the total we need to account for is $30. So let's see what happens to that $30. The owner keeps $25, the clerk gets $2 and the guys get $3 back.

Hey, that adds up fine.

Now let's look at the second way.

How much money did they end up paying? Well $27, and $25 of it went to the owner and $2 to the clerk.

Hey, that adds up too.

The problem with the question is that the $2 that the clerk gets are contained in the $27 that they end up paying so we shouldn't expect them to add to anything meaningful.

**~**
End Notes:
TBC .... How far will Bess run? And what about the money issues ... how will they handle such a mundane, but still extremely challenging, threat? More to come.
Tough Little Boys by Passion4Spike
Author's Notes:
Buffy and Spike do a locator spell to find Bess … she’s still running. Buffy decides to have ‘the talk’ with Annie … she’s in for a little surprise.
**
Music Referenced:
Tough Little Boys, Gary Allan: http://youtu.be/8l_cCKLHRoo
 **
ScreenCaps courtesy of ScreenCap Paradise: http://www.screencap-paradise.com/?cat=3
**
Thanks to 'epd4' for betaing this chapter and to PaganBaby for ideas for with 'the talk'.
(The next day), Saturday, July 3rd, 2010, 6pm:
 
Despite Buffy driving like a bat out of hell, the Blue Bomber was no match for the Harley and Bess was long gone before Buffy could even get out of their neighborhood. While Anya watched all the kids, Buffy and Spike, along with Xander, Giles, Wes, and Faith looked for Bess in and around Sunnydale all night the night she ran away and into the next day, but the Slayer-vamp was nowhere to be found.
 
Buffy and Spike thought about reporting the Harley as stolen, like Buffy had done when Spike was missing, but decided against it. They didn’t know what Bess might do if confronted with being arrested … it wasn’t worth risking the life of a police officer or Bess’ freedom over … they felt sure she’d come back after she cooled down, but now, nearly two full days later, she still hadn’t shown and, after Buffy did a locator spell to find her, it seemed clear that she wouldn’t be back for a while.
 
Buffy recited the locator spell, changing it slightly from the one she’d learned in the Wish-World that tracked Vengeance Demons, to find their daughter, then scattered the magical dust over the map of California … and she got nothing.
 
“Maybe you forgot how t’ do it, luv,” Spike suggested as he watched the spell mock her with darkness.

 

Buffy sighed and rolled her eyes. “Trust me … I didn’t forget how to do it,” she assured him, pulling out a map of the whole United States and trying again. This time a glowing green dot with a red center appeared near Flagstaff, Arizona … As they watched, the bright dot moved slowly east along I-40 towards Albuquerque, New Mexico.


 
Buffy sighed and closed her eyes, shaking her head slightly and Spike came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her.

 

“It’s not your fault, luv…” Spike assured her as he watched the dot move ever so slowly further away from California.
 
“I … I handled it all wrong,” Buffy admitted. “I should’ve … I should’ve waited for you …we could’ve talked to her together – calmly, like adults … I got into a screaming match with her; I drove her away.”
 
“No, pet … she drove herself away. I don’t know that we could’ve changed it, luv.”
 
Buffy sighed heavily and leaned back against him. “She doesn’t think we love her … Spike – I do love her … I miss her. I’m so worried about her …”
 
“I know, pet … but sometimes people gotta work stuff out on their own. We just do the best we can, but you can’t live their lives for ‘em. She’s not a child … she looks like a child … she’s got the temperament of a bloody hormone charged, pubescent bit, but she hasn’t been a little bit for a long while. Maybe that was our mistake, tryin’ to give her a childhood that she’d long ago outgrown…” Spike suggested sadly. “She needs to come back to us … we can’t hold ‘er against her will … she has to want to come back.”
 
Buffy nodded against his chest as she opened her eyes and watched the dot on the map that was their daughter move further and further away. She wanted desperately to go after her … to fly to Amarillo, which would be her next stop after Albuquerque if she stayed her course, and catch up with her, talk to her, apologize to her, but Spike was right, if Bess didn’t want to be held, if she didn’t want to come back, it would do no good.
 
“Where’s she going?” Buffy muttered more to herself than Spike, shaking her head sadly.

 

“I reckon she thinks she’s goin’ home,” Spike suggested. “But she can’t go home any more than I could… it’s not gonna be what she thought … she’s not gonna find any answers there.”
 
Buffy blew out a breath and the pair stood in silence and watched the dot move slowly across the map as Bess sped across the desolate desert of  Arizona towards New Mexico. They both sent up another in a long line of silent prayers to their Guardian Angel to watch over their girl … and to help guide her home.
 
**~**
 
(later that evening), Saturday, July 3rd, 2010, 7pm:
 
After what happened with Bess, Buffy took some time to reflect on things and thought that perhaps they were treating Annie too much like a child, as well. Now she paced back and forth in the upstairs hallway, wringing her hands nervously and practicing her speech in her head. Babies are made when a man and a woman have … uhhh … Ok … ummm, It takes a man and a woman to make a baby and it starts with love and smoochies, but there’s more to it … Ok, yeah, that’s good… uhhhh … You know that boys have wee-wees but girls don’t and that’s what makes it … Oh, she’s not three! It’s not a wee-wee, it’s a penis! Buffy admonished herself silently, rolling her eyes.
 
Buffy stopped and shook her head, no wonder her mom never had this actual talk with her … but she was determined to not make that same mistake with her kids. They needed information and they would find a place to get it, if not from her or Spike, then from their friends at school or … who knew where. It would be better coming from someone they trusted and it would be facts, not conjecture or old wife’s tales … Buffy had thought about this talk for a long time – years, in fact … she’d even written it out at one point, but it sounded lame on paper, so she’d tossed it … she sort of wished she’d kept it now.
 
“Just do it…” she encouraged herself. “Just be honest, just be straight with her. If you don’t act embarrassed, then she won’t be embarrassed.” It was time to give the cat another bath. Buffy prayed that this one would work out better.
 
Buffy took a deep breath and knocked on Annie’s door and waited for their daughter to turn her music off and open it.

 

“Hey, sweetie … can I talk to you a few minutes?” Buffy asked, giving Annie a small smile to cover her own nervousness as she stepped into her daughter’s room and closed the door behind her.
 
“Sure … what do you want to talk about?” Annie asked, sitting down cross-legged on her bed and pulling Miss Kitty, who still slept in her room most nights, into her lap.
 
“Well, I know you’re growing up and that you’re eleven now and you’ll be starting middle school in the fall, so I thought it was time we talked about stuff you’re going to need to know … about where babies come from and boys and how they’re different than girls…” Buffy endeavored to hide her nervousness as best she could by keeping a friendly smile on her face as she sat down on the end of the bed opposite Annie.
 
“Oh. I already know all that…” Annie assured her with a shrug as she ran a hand softly over the cat's back.
 
Buffy’s brows went up but then she realized that, of course, kids thought they knew stuff, but usually it was just rumors and not really facts… “Ok, well, why don’t you tell me what you know, and if anything isn’t clear, I can fill in the blanks,” Buffy suggested.
 
Annie shrugged and looked down at her pet, idly outlining the different colors that blotched the cat's coat with her fingers, as Buffy waited for her to begin. “Well …” Annie started after a few moments of silence. “Babies don’t really come from angels, they come from sexual intercourse. A man and a woman make a baby when a man’s penis ejaculates sperm into the woman's vagina and the tadpoles swim up through the cervix and uterus and find the egg in the fallopian tubes and they fertilize it.
 
“It only takes one sperm to fertilize an egg, but one ejaculation has thousands of them, but only the strongest ones make it all the way into the fallopian tubes. Missionary position is a good position if you’re trying to get pregnant; woman on top or standing aren’t as good, but that doesn’t mean you can’t get pregnant if you do it that way, it just might be harder,” Annie explained, still looking down at Miss Kitty.
 
When Buffy didn’t say anything for a few moments, Annie looked up. “Is that right?”

 

Buffy’s mouth was moving, but no sound was coming out. Finally, Buffy cleared her throat … she suddenly wished she’d brought a glass of water … or whiskey, with her. “Yes … uhhhh … yeah, that’s all right,” Buffy affirmed. “Where did you read that?”
 
“Oh, I didn’t read it, I asked … someone,” Annie started to say that she’d asked her Aunt Anya, but decided to keep her source a secret, just in case her mom was mad.
 
“Anya,” Buffy moaned, rolling her eyes. Would Anya ever learn to keep her big mouth shut? Damn that woman … Buffy didn’t go around telling JJ about sperm and eggs and fallopian tubes! She didn't go blabbing about things that weren't any of her business, even when she thought maybe he should know ... like the fact that, although bunnies may be evil, vile creatures that eat your garden, they were not actually demons ... or dangerous to humans.
 
Annie’s eyes went wide and her mouth opened in surprise. Could her mom read her mind now?! Annie sighed and nodded. “Please don’t be mad at her. I made her tell me ….”
 
“You made her tell you … just how did you do that?” Buffy wondered.
 
“Well … I asked her,” Annie admitted, looking back down at the cat.
 
Buffy rolled her eyes. Yep, that would be all it would take to make Anya tell you anything. Thank God she didn’t work for the CIA! There would be no such thing as ‘national security’. Heaven forbid she got a job at Kentucky Fried Chicken ... the Colonel's 'secret recipe' would be written out in neon lights in the front window.
 
“Can I ask you something though?” Annie questioned tentatively as Buffy tried to refocus.
 
“Of course …” Buffy agreed, letting her aggravation with Anya go – for now. There was more to what she wanted to talk to Annie about than sperm and eggs … Buffy needed to concentrate on that now. She'd deal with Anya later.
 
“What’s the Red Riding Hood game? I looked in this book, but it’s not in there …” Annie admitted as she set Miss Kitty down on the floor, pulled a book out from under her mattress and handed it to Buffy.

 

“Where did you get this!? Don’t tell me Anya gave it to you!” Buffy exclaimed as she flipped through it, her anger building again. 'Position of the Day’ it announced on the cover in big black letters, ‘Sex everyday in every way’.
 
“No … I … sort of borrowed it from her … without asking,” Annie confessed.
 
Buffy blew out a breath as she scanned through it. “You stole it? Annie … you know better than that …” Buffy began to chastise her daughter.

 

“Wow … seriously? Who does this stuff?” Buffy exclaimed, forgetting her sermon about stealing as she looked through the book. “‘The Sundial?” Buffy questioned with a disbelieving look, tilting her head as she studied the drawing. “I mean … that looks like a lotta work! Who would do that? Although … that would probably hit the g-spot really well …” she mused before turning the page. “Look at this pretzel thing … geez … it’d take an hour to just figure out where to put your legs and arms… let alone any other parts of your body…”

 

When Buffy looked up, Annie was looking at her with a mixture of disbelief and amusement. “Sorry …” Buffy apologized, closing the book and setting it down on the bed. “Red Riding Hood … ok, well, there’s not really a game or a position called that, at least not that I know of, but apparently I don’t know all of them,” Buffy admitted, eyeing the book again. “I really don’t know where you kids got that.”
 
“’Cos sometimes, in the middle of the night, you and dad sound like the wolf is eating Red Riding Hood, he growls and you scream. You’re having sex, aren’t you?” Annie asked reproachfully.
 
“Well … yeah … we’re having … sex,” Buffy admitted, forcing herself to stop lying about the loud ‘game’ and use the actual word ‘sex’, despite it sticking slightly in her throat.
 
“How come sex is so … loud?” Annie wondered. Annie was somewhat surprised that it wasn’t as hard as she thought it would be to ask her mom about this stuff … it was still a bit squicky thinking about her mom and dad doing those things, but Anya’s contention that everyone did it, and she wouldn’t be here if they didn’t, somehow made it a little easier to accept.
 
Buffy laughed as her face flushed with heat. “Well, there’re more reasons to have sex than just to make babies,” Buffy began to tell her daughter.
 
“Oh ... orgasms,” Annie filled in with a knowing nod.
 
“Orgasms, right …” Buffy agreed. Had Anya left anything out? “See, what your dad said about where babies come from and there being different kinds of love and loving someone in a special way, that wasn’t a lie. When you love someone in that way, there’s this … spark, this connection between the two of you and it makes you want to be intimate with that other person.
 
“Anya likes to talk about the mechanics of sex … but that’s not really what it’s about, Annie. I mean, that’s important that you know and understand that, but really, it’s about love. It’s about opening yourself up to someone else, it’s about being vulnerable and putting your feelings on the line; it’s about giving someone else pleasure and them giving you pleasure … it’s very … intense. It’s that intensity that makes it loud … I know you’ve heard us before … like that time at Disneyland in the castle and obviously at the B&B. We try to be quiet … but it’s hard to do.


 
“Everyone is different, but for me and your dad there comes a moment that you feel like you’re going to explode with absolute joy and, if you don’t let some of it out, release it, you really might,” Buffy tried to explain. “Did you ever get so happy, so excited that you just had to scream?”
 
A smile turned up the corners of Annie’s mouth and she nodded. “The first time I did six pirouettes in row on pointe perfectly and didn’t fall, I screamed and jumped up and down.”
 
Buffy smiled at her. “Now … multiply that joy by … a thousand – and that’s what having an orgasm with someone you truly love feels like. And that’s why it’s so hard for us to be quiet … ‘cos it’s just … well … pretty overwhelming.”
 
“If it’s that great, why don’t people just have sex all the time?” Annie wondered.
 
Buffy smiled at her. “Well, that’s a good question … Sex is great, but there’s so much more to life. If it was just sex, I think even that would get old after a while … Like you can hear a song on the radio and totally love it and you can’t wait to hear it again … but after hearing it ten times a day for a month, it sort of loses its allure.
 
“Doing different things with people you love, with your friends and family, sharing things that you like with those people … like your dancing and languages, that’s like the … ummmm …” Buffy paused and thought of some analogy that might help … after a few moments she started again. “Ok – think of it this way: all the things you do every day, like going to school and dance class and playing video games and riding your bike … that’s the ice cream; spending time with people you love – sharing experiences with them, with your family or a boyfriend one day, that’s the chocolate syrup; having sex with someone you truly love is the cherry on top of life.
 
“Annie, sex isn’t something to take lightly … what I mean is, there should be feelings attached with it, for both people. Some people have sex just for the orgasms and … yeah, I guess I can see where they’re coming from with that, but I think it’s better if you have real feelings for the person you’re with. It makes it so much better when you go into it with the intent of giving, not taking.
 
“One day, you’ll meet someone and you feel that spark and you’ll get to know them and the spark will grow into a flame. And, as time goes on, your heart will just swell with love and you’ll want to give yourself to that person, and that person will want to give themselves to you … The first time you have sex should be special … you’ll never forget it, even if you … even if the relationship doesn’t work out, it’ll be a defining moment in your life, you don’t want to take it lightly,” Buffy advised her.
 
“Did you love the first boy you had sex with?” Annie asked her. “Was it dad?”

 

“No … it wasn’t your dad, but yeah … yeah, we were … at least I thought we were in love. Looking back, I’m not sure that he really was … and honestly, it hurt for a long while because it ended up with him taking and me giving instead of us both giving…” Buffy admitted.
 
“Who was it? Do I know him?” Annie wondered.
 
“Oh … ummm … that’s really not important. What’s important is that you wait until you’re ready, even if the boy’s ready sooner. If he tries to put pressure on you … then he’s not giving – he’s taking. There’s nothing wrong with saying ‘no’ at any time, and I mean ANY time … and there’s nothing wrong with changing your mind, even at the very last minute. And there’s nothing wrong with saying ‘no’ to anything you don’t feel comfortable doing … everyone’s different, you should only do what you feel comfortable with.”
 
“Johnny Martin asked if he could kiss me, but I told him ‘no’,” Annie offered.
 
Buffy’s brows went up. “I thought you liked Johnny …” she mused with a knowing smile.
 
“Oh, I do … but it was right after lunch and he had sticky, grape jelly all over his mouth,” Annie explained, making a face.
 
Buffy laughed. “Good decision,” she told her daughter with a serious nod.
 
“Do people really kiss with their tongues … not just their lips?” Annie wondered.
 
“Well … so I’ve heard,” Buffy joked lightly. “It’s called French kissing and yeah, tongues are definitely involved. A boy might use his tongue to … uhhh … well, like tease your lips or he might press through your lips and into your mouth …”
 
“Ewwww! If a boy tries to put his tongue in my mouth, I’ll puke!” Annie asserted, making another ‘how gross is that?’ face.
 
Buffy bit her bottom lip to keep from smiling and made a mental note to remind her daughter of that one day.
 
Buffy gathered her thoughts back, she’d rehearsed the things we wanted to get across to her daughter and now that she’d opened the gates, she wanted to make sure she covered it all. “Don’t let them tell you that once they have an erection that the only way to make it go away is to cum … or ‘ejaculate semen’ … that’s just not true. If any boy tells you that, tell them to take it in the bathroom and take care of it themselves...and then never talk to them again, because he’s liar and a user. And, regardless of what Bill Clinton or anyone else says, giving a boy a blow job or even a hand job, is still sex.”

 

Annie’s eyes went wide and she laughed with nervous embarrassment about her mom talking about blow jobs and hand jobs.
 
“I’ve heard some kids talking about that stuff … do you really put your mouth on …” Annie scrunched up her nose and looked at her mom for help.
 
Buffy looked at her little girl with understanding … she was growing up, but thank goodness she wasn’t there yet. “Yeah … you put your mouth … or your hand, on the boy’s penis and … well … stimulate him that way instead of with intercourse.”
 
Annie had a pained and grossed-out expression on her face; she was quite sure that she would never give anyone a blow job … that was right up there in the ‘ick’ department with someone else’s tongue in her mouth. I mean, seriously? How gross is that?
 
“Sorry … I didn’t mean to embarrass you … but I think we need to talk about it, ‘cos kids these days seem to think that it’s alright to do that stuff like it doesn’t mean anything. But don’t misunderstand, there’s nothing wrong with blow jobs or hand jobs … using your mouth and hands to make your partner feel good is a wonderful part of sex, but it’s still sex,” Buffy admonished her. “It’s not like playing UNO! … it’s not something you do with your seat-mate on the bus to pass the time. It should be personal, it should be … intimate and it should be done out of love, not boredom or peer pressure or whatever reason kids nowadays.”
 
Annie nodded thoughtfully, but still couldn’t see herself doing any of that. That was totally gross.
 
“How will I know when I’m ready for sex?” Annie asked, pushing the amazement and ick factor of her mom suddenly talking so openly about this stuff aside.
 
Buffy shrugged slightly and took a deep breath. “Well, your body will probably be ready before your heart; that’s how it was for me. My body practically screamed at me day and night to just do it, but my heart wasn’t ready. My situation was a little … odd – which, hey … what’s new, right? I don’t know how it will be for you, but for me it was just like a switch got thrown, and my heart and my mind and my body were suddenly all in agreement … all in sync, they all wanted the same thing for once. Then I knew it was time, I was ready.”
 
“How old were you?”
 
Buffy took a breath and tried to decide if she should be honest about that or not … but it wouldn’t be long before Annie would figure out how old Buffy was when she was conceived and she’d know that since Spike wasn’t her first, that her first time must’ve been before that. “I was seventeen.”
 
Annie nodded thoughtfully and went silent for a few moments. She had a while to figure all this out then … seventeen.
 
“Does sex hurt?” Annie asked after a few moments. “Aunt Anya said that it hurt … or it could hurt … something like that,” Annie pointed out, trying to remember exactly how Anya put it.
 
“The first time does a little, because every girl has a hymen … the boys call it a ‘cherry’, and when that gets broken it hurts some and it bleeds … but after that, no, it doesn’t hurt, or it shouldn’t – if you do it right, it feels good – really, really good. If it hurts, then something’s wrong and you need to talk to me or a doctor about it…” Of course, Buffy knew what Anya was referring to, but she wasn't going there with Annie ... not at the ripe old age of eleven, anyway.
 
Annie nodded thoughtfully. “That makes more sense…” she decided.

 

“Sooooo … have you ever seen a condom?” Buffy asked, pulling a small foil pack out of her pocket.

 

Annie’s eyes went wide (again) and she shook her head ‘no’.  Finally, something factual that Anya didn’t cover! Buffy pulled the condom out and let Annie examine it and Buffy used her fingers to demonstrate how it would fit over a boy’s penis and talked with her about safe sex and STDs and pregnancy and her period, which hadn’t started yet, but could anytime, and pads and tampons and the changes her body would go through. Buffy tried her best to tell her daughter everything that she wished her mom had told her and open the lines of communication, so Annie would feel comfortable confiding in her at any time. She sooo didn’t want Annie to turn into a teenage replica of her and pull away from them, or worse.
 
After nearly two hours of talking and Annie asking questions, Buffy finally felt like she’d covered everything she had planned to and felt confident that their daughter would come to her with questions from now on … not Anya, or her friends at school.
 
“I think we better give this back to your aunt,” Buffy said at last, picking up the ‘Position of the Day’ book.
 
Annie nodded guiltily. “I didn’t mean to keep it, I just wanted to look at it a while …”
 
“I know … I understand that you’re curious and you just wanted information and no one was giving it to you. Your dad and me, we love you and it’s hard to think about you growing up – especially for him. I don’t have to tell you that when you start dating, you better prepare the boy ahead of time; make sure he expects the Spanish Inquisition when he picks you up …” Buffy warned.

 

Annie smiled. “No one expects the Spanish Inquisition,” she replied, quoting one of her father’s favorite shows, Monty Python. She got kind of a warm feeling thinking about all the times she sat with him and watched his silly old shows … that must be the ice cream that her mom was talking about … sharing things with your family.
 
Buffy laughed and leaned forward to drop a kiss on her daughter’s forehead. Buffy brushed some of her daughter’s long hair back over her shoulder with her hand as she met her eyes. “You’re a beautiful, smart girl. You’ve got your whole life ahead of you, don’t rush it … don’t try to grow up too soon. One day, you’ll find a wonderful boy who you’ll love, who loves and deserves you, and your dad will walk you down the aisle and he’ll cry, but he’ll give his little girl away. It’ll be the happiest and saddest day of our lives …” Buffy blinked back tears and wiped at her eyes. “Oh, look at me … remind me to wear smudge-proof, waterproof mascara on your wedding day.”
 
Annie smiled and sat forward to hug her mom’s neck. “I love you, Mama,” she whispered.
 
Buffy hugged her back. “I love you, sweet girl.”
 
When Annie pulled back, Buffy stood up, taking the book of sex positions with her. Just before she opened the door, Annie ventured, “Can I ask you one more thing?”
 
“Sure … anything,” Buffy agreed, turning back around.
 
Annie jumped up and took the book from Buffy’s hand and turned to the page showing ‘The Table Dance’ position. “Aunt Anya said that Uncle Xander couldn’t do this … but she said she thought you and Dad could ‘cos Dad’s so strong…”

 

Buffy looked at the drawing and made a face … that was another one that looked like a lot of work, probably more work than it was worth, but at least it wasn’t work on her part, just Spike’s. “I don’t know …” Buffy hedged. “But we can try it and find out…” she offered, giving Annie a conspiratorial wink.
  
Annie giggled and nodded, handing the book back to Buffy. Now she had something new to be proud of her parents about … not only were they superheroes that fought evil and saved the world, they could have sex in positions that other people couldn’t … who knew?
 
**~**
 
Later that night, when Spike came to bed after his shower, Buffy smiled at him slyly and stopped him before he could get to the bed. “Your daughter has a request …” she informed him, opening the book of positions to the 'Table Dance' page. “She wants to know if you can do this …”
 
Spike looked at the book and looked back at Buffy with horror and utter bewilderment. “She … the Niblett … Christ, woman!” Spike sputtered. “Have you gone 'round the soddin' bend? What the bloody hell did you two talk about?! That don’t look like birds and bees t’ me!”
 
Buffy laughed and shrugged. “Spike, she’s eleven and she's curious … didn’t you ever look at stuff like that when you were young? National Geographic with the bare breasted natives or ... those nudist colony magazines where everyone's playing volleyball on the beach 'au naturale'?”
 
“No, I bloody well did not!”
 
“Oh … couldn’t find any, huh?” Buffy surmised.
 
“Looked everywhere …” Spike admitted with a sigh, shaking his head and rolling his eyes. "But, Christ, Buffy ... the Niblett ... she's ..."

"Not a baby, Spike. She's growing up ... you need to deal," Buffy advised him.

Spike sighed heavily and rubbed his eyes. Where the hell had the years gone? Wasn't it just yesterday that she was dressing Miss Kitty up in her doll's outfits and having pretend tea parties with her stuffed animals? Apparently not. "Don't recall seein' that book before ... where the bloody hell did that come from? Been holding out on me, Slayer?"
 
Buffy laughed and shook her head. "No ... it's not mine. The thing is, our daughter had a little talk with Anya while we were gone … Annie found this book at their house and kinda borrowed it … anyway, to make a long story short, Anya said this was one of Xander’s favorite positions, but that it was probably too hard for you to do…”
 
Spike took the book and looked at it more closely, somehow missing the part about Anya talking to Annie, hearing only the challenge that had been thrown down, which had been Buffy's plan. She could deal with Anya, she didn't want to lie to Spike or keep it from him, but he didn't need to get up in arms over it, either. “Pffffft! Child’s play! Could do that with one hand tied behind m’ back!”
 
“I’ve got a rope in the nightstand …” Buffy offered with a devious smile.

 

Spike grabbed her before she could turn around to retrieve the rope and pulled her against him. “Let’s try it without the rope one time …” he murmured against her lips.
 
Buffy laughed and wrapped her arms around his neck and captured his mouth with hers. She had no doubt he could do it (because there would be no way he’d let Xander best him) … the only question would be if he could do it with one hand tied behind his back.
 
**~**
 
(later that night), July 4th, 2010, 2am:
 
Spike pulled on his PJ bottoms and slipped back downstairs after Buffy fell asleep and sat down at the research table. He sadly watched the small, shiny dot that was Bess hover on the map just west of Flagstaff, Arizona. She was apparently stopped in the middle of nowhere, about a hundred miles west of Flagstaff. He didn’t blame Buffy for what happened; if he had found Bess in that alley behind the Bronze, he seriously doubted the outcome would’ve been any better … in fact, it might’ve been worse. He’d been afraid from the beginning that she was too damaged to trust them, too broken to let herself love anyone or perhaps too damaged to allow herself to be loved. Yes, she’d had disappointments since coming to Sunnydale, but certainly they weren’t so dire, so tragic that they’d drive her away … especially considering where she’d come from … were they?
 
It occurred to Spike that perhaps what she was running from, what she was rebelling against, wasn’t them and their rules as much as it was the fear of becoming part of a family … part of something larger than yourself. She’d been snatched out of every family she’d ever loved, lost everyone she had ever cared for … maybe this time she was running before she could be abandoned yet again … before her heart got broken again. Just like Buffy, Spike’s heart longed to go after her … but what he told his wife earlier was true – they couldn’t hold her if she didn’t want to be held. She had to find her own way back to them…
 
Spike jumped when a small, warm hand touched his bare shoulder. “Junior!” Spike exclaimed, barely stopping himself from hitting his son in the face with his elbow. Billy climbed up onto Spike’s lap unfazed, not even considering the possibility that Spike could severely wound or even kill him with a perfectly placed blow.
 
“Is that Bess?” Billy asked, pointing to the map. He’d seen his share of locator spells before.

 

“Yeah,” Spike answered as he blew out a breath to calm the adrenaline rush from being startled and settled his son on his knee so they could both watch the small glowing orb hover over the map.
 
“Did I do something wrong?” Billy wondered, looking from the map up to Spike.
 
“No … no, you didn’t do anything wrong. Why do you think that?” Spike assured him.
 
Billy shrugged and looked back at the map. “Bess kicked me out … said to never come back…”
 
“Out of her dream?” Spike questioned.
 
“Yeah… I … I was just trying to help her and … she pushed me out the door into the rain. Why did she do that? Why did she leave? I thought she would like it here,” his son pondered sadly. “Did I do something wrong?” he asked again.
 
“No, Junior … no, it’s not you. Bess is just … she got scared and she ran off,” Spike tried to assure him again.
 
“If I was scared, I’d run home … What’s she scared of?” Billy wondered, looking up at his father with innocent eyes.
 
Spike shook his head slowly. “Not sure … I think maybe she’s scared of us … scared of love.”
 
Billy furrowed his brow and tried to comprehend that. “I don’t understand,” he admitted finally.
 
Spike shrugged and sighed. How do you explain what Bess had been through to a six year old?  “You remember them mangy kittens you bits found behind the Magic Box?” Spike asked him.

 

“Yeah…”
 
“And we told you all not to get too attached to them ‘cos we couldn’t keep ‘em?” Spike continued.
 
“Yeah …”
 
“But you all did, anyway … gave ‘em all names, bought ‘em kitty treats and little collars, played with ‘em everyday after school, and let yourselves fall in love with them … and then what happened?” Spike asked his son.
 
“We had to give them away …” his son answered sadly.
 
“And?”
 
“And we all cried …” Billy recalled quietly.
 
“Bess is kinda like someone who’s had to give ‘er kittens away too often … she’s afraid to love, 'cause she’s afraid the kittens will be taken away and she’ll be hurt and she'll cry,” Spike related. “She’s afraid to get too close to us … afraid we’ll be taken away or she’ll be taken away …”

 

Billy pursed his lips and moved them back in forth as he considered this, keeping his eyes on the map. As he watched, the dot began moving again … heading for Flagstaff. Tears stung Spike’s eyes as he pulled Billy’s back tight against his chest and tucked his son’s head under his chin as they watched the magical Lojack move slowly away from them. He sighed heavily and laid one hand down on the map near Albuquerque … it was as close to holding her, assuring her, guiding her, as he could get. He hoped it would be enough.

**~**

{{Click here to hear “Tough Little Boys” by Gary Allan on YouTube  }}

Well I never once
Backed down from a punch
Well I'd take it square on the chin
But I found out fast
That bullies just laugh
And we've got to stand up to them

So I didn't cry when I got a black eye
As bad as it hurt, I just grinned
But when tough little boys grow up to be dads
They turn into big babies again.

Scared me to death
When you took your first steps
And I'd fall every time you fell down
Your first day of school, I cried like a fool
And I followed your school bus to town

Well I didn't cry, when Old Yeller died
At least not in front of my friends
But when tough little boys grow up to be dads
They turn into big babies again

Well I'm a grown man
But as strong as I am
Sometimes it’s hard to believe
How one little girl, with little blonde curls
Can totally terrify me

If you were to ask, my wife would just laugh
She'd say "I know all about men,
How tough little boys grow up to be dads
They turn into big babies again"

Well I know one day, I'll give you away
I'm gonna stand there and smile
But when I get home, and I'm all alone
Well, I'll sit in your room for a while

Well I didn't cry when Old Yeller died
At least not in front of my friends
But when tough little boys grow up to be dads
They turn into big babies again

When tough little boys grow up to be dads
They turn into big babies again
End Notes:
TBC ... We're going to follow the Sunnydale group for a while, but I assure you we will get back to Bess and what's going on with her ...
Sixteen Tons by Passion4Spike
Author's Notes:
Things go from bad to worse for the Weckerlys during the summer of 2010 …
**
Music Referenced:
Sixteen Tons, Tennessee Ernie Ford, http://youtu.be/zUpTJg2EBpw
 **
ScreenCaps courtesy of ScreenCap Paradise: http://www.screencap-paradise.com/?cat=3
**
Thanks to 'epd4' for betaing this chapter.
(next morning), Sunday, July 4th, 2010, 7:30am:
 
Annie sat at the kitchen table and pretended to be reading one of the books on her summer reading list as she watched her parents cooking breakfast for her and her siblings. It wasn’t any different than any other day when they were both up early … but today she was seeing them in a whole new light. Little things that in the past she either never noticed or never thought anything of, today had meaning; like the way Spike trailed his hand lightly across the small of Buffy’s back when he crossed behind her, or the way Buffy leaned her hip and shoulder against his when she was standing next to him … even the way they passed utensils back and forth … always touching the other’s hand in the process.
 
Annie smiled to herself … that was more of the ice cream and chocolate syrup her mom had told her about last night. She never really noticed before how much they touched each other, even when they were just doing mundane things … she wondered if they even knew they did that. When Spike turned around to deliver the eggs, potatoes, and sausage to the table, Annie quickly dropped her gaze back to her reading, but couldn’t really get the little smile to go away.
 
“Didn’t know ‘Lorna Doone’ was a comedy, Niblett,” Spike remarked with a smirk.
 
Annie shrugged but didn’t look up, instead turning her full attention to her breakfast.
 
Buffy put three glasses of orange juice on the table, along with her coffee, and plopped down in her seat at the table. She rubbed a hand on her growing tummy; over three months left to go and she was already starting to tire quickly; of course, she hadn’t been sleeping well since the whole blow up with Bess, either. Maybe she better keep that next doctor’s appointment, after all, just to be sure everything was ok. She had been gonna blow it off and save that money, but …
 
Spike brought his mug of blood and sat down in the seat next to her and began rubbing her neck and shoulders with one hand while he talked to Dani about the soccer game she was playing in later that day and trying to explain, again, why he couldn’t go to afternoon games just now; only night games, and only when he wasn’t working – which was never.
 
Annie’s eyes met Buffy’s across the table. She gave her mom a questioning look as she danced her fingers on the table and tilted of her head towards her father to silently ask Buffy about the ‘Table Dance’. Buffy bit her bottom lip and smiled at her daughter, widening her eyes and giving her a little nod and Annie couldn’t help but smile wider.

  

“What the bloody hell is with you two, t’day?” Spike asked, looking between Buffy and Annie.
 
“Nothing,” came in unison from the two as they giggled like school girls sharing a secret.

**~**
 
(nine days later), 4pm, Thursday, July 15th, 2010, Dr. Benson’s office, OB/GYN (26 weeks pregnant):
 
“Everything with the baby looks good, Buffy … she’s developing perfectly,” the doctor told her during the sonogram.
 
“She?” Buffy asked. “So I can definitely go with pink now?”
 
The doctor smiled. “Yes … definitely pink, see?” She pointed to a spot on the screen. “No optional equipment package,” she joked.
 
Buffy smiled and nodded as the doctor began cleaning the jelly from her abdomen. “But I’ve been really tired … I don’t remember being this tired this early before.”
 
The doctor finished pushing the sonogram equipment to the side and picked up Buffy’s chart and flipped through it. “Have you been taking your prenatal vitamins?” the doctor asked. “You’re slightly anemic…”
 
Buffy rolled her eyes and sighed. She had started on those, but the ones from the doctor were so expensive that she’d switched to a cheaper brand she found at the discount store … apparently, you do get what you pay for sometimes.
 
With her checkbook another $350 lighter, and another bottle of prenatal vitamins from the doctor in hand, Buffy headed home, feeling guilty for not taking the vitamins all along, but better because at least she knew there wasn’t anything seriously wrong with her or the baby. Spike had never asked her what the sex of the baby was … traditionally, they hadn’t known until the baby was born, but, since he wasn’t with her at her appointments because they were all midday and she preferred him un-dusty, she had decided to start a new tradition. She idly wondered if she should decorate the nursery in pinks or stick with what she’d done in the past and use gender non-specific colors, or if Spike would notice… Duh! Of course Spike would notice …
 
Well, there was still plenty of time for that earth shattering decision to be made, and she had plenty to do in the meantime. The cargo containers from the UK had started arriving and she, Faith, and Spike were trying to interview/test Slayers and Watchers from North and South America for the Apocalypse Leadership Team; after that, they still had some candidates from Africa and the Far East who had applied, as well. It was taking much longer to make the selections than Buffy had anticipated because of the volume of applicants – it seemed everyone wanted to be a chief, no one wanted to be an indian.
 
The good news was that the Council Governing Committee had been seated and Fred had agreed to be the ‘tie breaker’ on the Committee. The twelve person CGC was made up of six Watchers and six Slayers. The Watchers included Wes and Giles and four others that they hand selected based on their experience in the field, education, demonology expertise, and personalities. The Slayers included Faith, Buffy, and Bess … even though Bess was still, well, not missing exactly, they knew where she was, more or less, but she wasn’t there. Buffy insisted that they give her a chance to come back … if she wasn’t back within a year, then the Committee could replace her. The other three positions were filled by other ‘senior’ Slayers who had shown exceptional leadership abilities over the years: Amanda, Kennedy, and Molly.
 
The bad news, of course, was that now Buffy had to attend those meetings and they had to try and figure out how to get everything re-organized and how to find some source of income to keep the Council operating and keep paychecks, albeit minimal, going out to Watchers and Slayers. They also had to figure out who would be locating and training newly called Slayers and where to recruit new Watchers. It was quickly decided that the ‘one Watcher to one Slayer’ paradigm simply wouldn’t work any longer and that instead, they would set up teams of several Slayers per one Watcher and spread them out around the world, concentrating on areas with Hellmouths or other high supernatural or demon activity. After attending just a few of these CGC meetings, Buffy already regretted being on it … it was tedious and very little actually got accomplished and it seemed like she had ten thousand other things that she could/should be doing instead. She understood now why Spike passed on it, but she was determined to try and stick it out, if for no other reason than to make a better Council and a brighter future for Bess and any of her other daughters that might one day be Slayers.
 
Back at home, Spike was half-sleeping / half-babysitting on the couch as Dani, Billy, and JJ played ‘Jedi-Scooby’ in the training room; Annie was over at her friend Janice’s house for a birthday/slumber party.
 
Buffy grabbed a glass of milk and downed one of the vitamins, then headed to the research table to check on Bess … or check on her as well as they could. It had become part of everyone’s routine now, to go to the table and check the little glowing dot on the map every time they came into the great room. Buffy would re-do the spell every day or so to keep the magical tracker going. After speeding across Arizona, New Mexico, and the panhandle of Texas, Bess had stopped in a small town in eastern Oklahoma called Renaldo, just outside Fort Smith, Arkansas, and had been there nearly a week now.


 
Spike walked up behind her and wrapped his arms around his wife. “Everything alright with you and the bit?”
 
“Yeah, fine … just a little anemic. I got some more vitamins, it’s nothing to worry about,” Buffy assured him.
 
“And?” Spike asked expectantly.
 
“And ... nothing. Everything’s fine,” Buffy repeated.
 
“I heard that bit … and, is it a prophecy or not?” Spike questioned. “Are we going with pink or blue?”
 
Buffy smiled and rolled her eyes as she turned her head to the side so she could see his face. “You’re creepy sometimes …” she informed him with a sigh, wondering how he knew that she knew the sex of the baby. “Pink…”
 
Spike nodded and hugged her tighter. That was pretty much what he reckoned.
 
“I wonder why she’s stopped there so long … I hope she’s ok,” Buffy commented, looking back down at the map and changing the subject to Bess.
 
“The bike had a bloody oil leak … if she didn’t check it, or kept runnin’ it with low oil or no oil …” Spike shook his head. “Coulda buggered the engine good … cracked a head, thrown a rod …”
 
“Maybe we should …” Buffy started.
 
“No, Buffy … if she needs help, she can call us. She knows the number, she knows how to use the phone … this was her choice, it has to be her choice to ask for help,” Spike asserted.
 
“Spike, that doesn’t sound like you at all,” Buffy retorted, turning in his arms to look at him. “If that was Annie…”

 

“It’s not the Niblett,” Spike pointed out. “Buffy, luv … we tried treating her like a girl, that didn’t work. She’s not a girl, she’s a Slayer and she’s a vamp. What would you have done if your mum or your Watcher came here and tried to drag you ‘ome right after you’d run off?”
 
Buffy sighed and rolled her eyes. “I probably would’ve run farther …”
 
Spike shrugged with a ‘there ya go’ expression on his face.
 
“Ok … fine,” Buffy acquiesced, wrapping her arms around his waist and resting her head on his chest.
 
“She’s a smart girl … strong, resourceful … like her mum,” Spike contended. “She’ll be alright.”
  
**~**
 
The summer of 2010:
 
Life over the summer in Sunnydale was a whirlwind of Council business, various camps for the kids – dance and gymnastics and soccer, working, juggling bills, robbing Peter to pay Paul, and trying to get ready for the new addition. They kept track of Bess on the map in the research area, she had finally started moving again after spending over two months in that one small town… still moving away from California. She was now heading more northeast than due east; Spike still figured she was headed to Philadelphia. He didn’t know what she thought she’d find there, but hoped when her quest was over, that she’d be ready to come back home to them.
 
As the weeks went by, money got tighter and tighter. They couldn’t even make the annual trip up to Willow and Tara’s for the Fourth of July, not only because of the cost of the gas it would take, but because Spike couldn’t afford to miss even a single night of work. It was a huge disappointment to the kids, as well as Willow and Tara, who always looked forward to that week with the Weckerly children and Buffy and Spike.
 
“But, Papa!” Dani argued, when the kids were told they weren’t going north this summer. “What are we gonna say in school next year when they ask where we went on our summer vacation?”

 

“Tell ‘em your parents are international spies working for the bloody CIA, and you could tell them where you went, but then you’d have to kill ‘em … for the sake of national security,” Spike snarked. He wasn’t angry with her … he was just angry; angry with himself for not being able to give them even that little treat that they so enjoyed. It was hard enough just paying for their regular summer camps and other lessons they all had, but he refused to let Buffy drop any of those, even as their debt rose higher and higher.
 
“Daaaaad!” Annie moaned, rolling her eyes.
 
Spike groaned and his shoulders sagged. “Sorry … you have no idea how sorry I am that we can’t go… I promise I’ll make it up to ya.”
 
**~**
 
A couple of nights later, on a Sunday night right after dinner, Spike loaded all the kids, including JJ, along with Buffy, up in the Blue Bomber and started driving amid a relentless chorus of ‘Where are we going?” Not even Buffy knew where they were going until they got there: the ice skating rink on the outskirts of town. But it was closed on Sunday nights…
 
Spike made them wait in the van while he … well … uhhh, sort of opened the door without an actual key, then he unloaded a couple of duffle bags he had stashed in the way-back of the van and the group piled into the dark, deserted skating arena.
 
Inside, the kids put on their skates, which was what was in the duffle bags, while Spike turned on three spotlights on the ice, one halfway across near the right side of the rink, one three quarters of the way across on the left side, and one at the furthest end right in the middle, but mostly the rink was cast in complete darkness.
 
“Ok …” Spike began, stopping them before they headed out onto the dark ice, and pulling on skates of his own. “T’night we’re going on a magical trip to ‘Polar Bear Pass’ in the heart of the Weltschmerz mountain range, deep in the lonely wilderness of the Land Without Sun,” he explained, kneeling down in front of the kids and working on getting his skates laced up.

 

Buffy was lacing her skates up too, but Spike stopped her. “Bits only this trip, luv …” he informed her and she frowned at him, giving him her best pouty lip. “Pout all ya want, it’s not gonna work; you can come next time,” he assured her before turning his attention back to the kids. “You might not’ve heard of it before … but it’s a frozen zone a’ terror … very dangerous, haunted, it is, by the biggest, meanest, scariest polar bear you’d ever want t’ see,” Spike continued in a deep, ominous, ‘ghost story’, voice, his eyes wide with mock terror.
 
“And this polar bear looooves to gobble up little bits as they try to pass through his icy home,” Spike continued. Dani, Billy, and JJ were eating it up, their eyes wide with excitement and fear. Annie, being eleven, and beyond such silliness, wasn’t as impressed.

 

“Now … word is, this bear has a huge stash o’ golden treasure hidden in his den. Your mission … if you choose to accept it, is to cross the dark, sunless pass and capture the treasure on the other side,” Spike continued, pointing to the other side of the dark rink where a light shone down on a bright red gift bag that sat on the ice. “The bear is afraid of the light … but beware the dark expanse of the pass …” Spike warned in a low and threatening tone. “He could be anywhere, lurking … waiting to pounce … and gobble you up!” he exclaimed, suddenly grabbing Dani and Billy and causing them to shriek with nervous laughter.
 
Buffy smiled as she watched Spike weave his tale of danger and treasure for the children and transport them to ‘Polar Bear Pass’ … it was the best summer vacation he could do on their non-existent budget.
 
Just as suddenly as Spike had grabbed the twins, he released them and sped out onto the dark rink, his thick-bladed, hockey-style skates scraping an eerie melody on the cold ice as he went. Buffy shook her head … when had he learned to skate? When had he even gotten any ice skates for himself? Had he been holding out on her the whole time, or had he learned just so he could do this for the kids?
 
The kids quickly followed him out onto the ice … all their skates covering up the sound from his, making it impossible for them to tell where he was; if they stopped, he stopped … when they moved, he moved. In the dark, they couldn’t see him, but Spike, of course, had a slight advantage, he could see fine.

 

Spike darted into the pack of children and growled dangerously as they made their way across the dark ice and they all shrieked and scurried away from him, trying to reach the ‘safety’ of the light that shone down on the ice near mid-rink. He cut them off with deep roar, raising his hands menacingly above his head like a polar bear, and they all screamed again and changed directions. By the time the kids made it to the first spotlight, they were all panting from excitement and exertion, and their eyes were wide with enthusiasm, even Annie’s, looking around in the dark as they tried to spy where the polar bear had gone.
 
Spike knelt down on the ice far enough away that they couldn’t see him and watched with delight as the kids all searched for him from the safety of the light.
 
“We need to split up,” Annie suggested. “The bear can’t chase us all.”
 
“What if he catches us alone and gobbles us up!?” Billy questioned, looking around warily.
 
“Billy … it’s just Papa, he’s not gonna really hurt you,” Annie reminded him.
 
“Oh, yeah…”
 
“Ok … on three we all go in different directions …” Annie took control of the plan. “One … two …” On ‘three’, Spike shot past them, growling deeply and staying just barely out of the light as if careening off an invisible forcefield. The kids all shrieked again and took off as a group in the opposite direction … so much for Annie’s plan.
 
Spike grabbed up JJ, who was at the back of the pack, and rumbled a growl against his neck, causing the boy to scream with a mixture of laughter and fear and squirm and kick as he tried to get away from the ‘bear’. Spike set him down outside the wall of the rink and informed him he was ‘dead’, then quickly turned and went after the remaining trespassers that were after his treasure in Polar Bear Pass. The hardest to track down was Annie … she was a better skater and much faster than the others, and she was able to make it into the safety of the second spotlight before Spike could catch her.
 
Now she stood alone in the spotlight, her compatriots all ‘dead’. She was three quarters of the way to the other end of the rink … only about fifty feet of dark ice stood between her and the last spotlight where the treasure was. Spike circled near her like a shark circling its prey, taunting her, daring her to make a break for it.
 
“C’mon then … can’t get the treasure there,” he reminded her, trying to lure her into the dark by circling further away, then coming closer again.
 
Annie bit her bottom lip as she tried to formulate another plan and turned in a circle keeping the bear …errr … her father in front of her where she could watch him.
 
“Chicken? Bwaaak, bwwaaaak, bwwwaaaak,” Spike taunted, putting his thumbs against his armpits and flapping his ‘wings’ like a chicken.
 
Annie suddenly lunged at him, pushing him in the chest and knocking him backwards before she turned the opposite way and sprinted for the end of the rink and the not-so-hidden treasure. Spike caught his balance and raced after her, catching her arm at the last moment and swinging her around. Annie fell down onto her butt and slid across the ice, coming to a stop when her back hit the side of the rink.
 
Spike panicked, he hadn’t meant to knock her down, he lost his grip on her when he spun her and she’d just sailed out of control. He heard her crying as he raced over to where she was still sitting on the cold ice, her face covered with one hand as she held her knee with the other.

 

“God, Niblett … I’m sorry, I didn’t mean … are you hurt?” he asked in a panic.
 
“My knee…” she moaned, rubbing it.
 
When Spike dropped down onto his knees next to her to examine her leg, she caught him completely off guard and pushed hard against his shoulders, knocking him backwards and down onto his butt. “Psyche!!!” she screamed as she jumped up and raced to the end of the rink, grabbing up the red gift bag by its handles and twirling around in victory with it held high above her head.
 
Spike stood back up, dusting the ice from his jeans and shaking his head. “Shoulda known to never trust a bloody Summers girl…” he muttered as all the other kids, who were watching from the sidelines with Buffy, screamed, clapped, and cheered.
 
Spike caught up with Annie and wrapped an arm around her shoulders as they skated back towards the group. “Bloody chip off the Slayer block, you are, Bit,” he told her with a smirk, pulling her against him. Annie smiled proudly, swinging the treasure in her outside hand as she wrapped an arm around her father’s waist and they skated back to the group of ‘dead’ onlookers.
 
Inside the bag, the ‘golden treasure’ turned out to be Ferrero candies wrapped in shiny foil … dark chocolate for Annie and Buffy, hazelnut ones for Billy and JJ, and (milk-free) coconut for Dani and Spike.


 
After they’d eaten all the treasure, the kids played a game of tag on the dark ice, using the lights as safe areas while Spike sat with Buffy and watched.
 
“Soooo …” Buffy began, banging the side of his skates with hers. “You been holdin’ out on me or are you just a fast learner?”
 
Spike smirked and pulled his eyes off the kids and looked at her. “Didn’t want ya to feel bad, what with me bein’ a better skater than you…”

 

“Oh, please!” Buffy objected. “I could stake rings around you right now … me and the ‘littlest bit’ can both skate rings around you!” she declared, rubbing a hand on her tummy.
 
“Can ya now?”
 
“Just try us!” she dared him.
 
Spike stood up and Buffy followed him onto the ice. Buffy started to skate in a wide ring around him, but he grabbed her hand and swung her around in a slow arc and back to him. He pulled her body against his and wrapped his arms around her before capturing her lips with his. The pair turned in a slow circle from the momentum Buffy had started as their lips and tongues created enough heat to almost literally melt the ice from under their feet.
 
When they came to a stop, Spike pulled back and looked down at the ice. Buffy’s skates had made a full circle around him as they kissed. He smiled and looked back into her eyes, cocking a brow at her. “I reckon you can skate rings around me, pet.”
 
Buffy smirked and pushed off with one toe, starting them in another slow circle. “Told ya so…” she murmured, lifting her lips back to his and trying once again to actually melt the ice.

 

**~**
 
That night at the skating rink had been one of the best of the summer for all of them, but, as summer went on, things only got worse for the Weckerlys …
 
Spike came home one night to a house full of swarming termites … Buffy and the kids were trying to kill them with anything they could find, from bug spray to fly swatters to brooms. A seemingly never-ending supply of the small creatures flooded out of the wall near the fireplace where wood met brick, and filled the great room, research area, and kitchen with a cloud of the wood-eating, translucent-winged monsters. Getting the mansion treated for the ‘subterranean demons’ pretty much wiped out the money Buffy was trying to keep back to pay for the hospital and doctor bills for the baby. The termite company told her the house really needed to be tented, as well as treated below ground, that the termites were everywhere. After putting them off for a while, she and Spike finally decided to go ahead with it now, before the baby came. The family had to stay with Xander and Anya for three days while the house was being tented and they had to do what Buffy wanted to avoid at all costs to pay for it … take out a mortgage on the mansion.
 
Getting a bank to even agree to give them a mortgage was nearly impossible and beyond frustrating. It seemed that if you didn’t have money, no one would give you a loan … but, Buffy pointed out, if she had money, she wouldn’t need the stupid loan! Buffy went to four different banks before one would even consider it, especially after they looked at the paystubs from the Council and the bar and Buffy and Spike’s recent credit report. Up until the last few months, they’d had perfect credit, but since then their score had dropped significantly with rising debt and only making minimum payments … and often those payments were late. Buffy finally found a sympathetic loan officer at a small, locally owned bank, who agreed to give her what amounted to a ‘renovation loan’ … like a construction loan, the money could only be used to make improvements or renovations on the house.  

 

“It’s not for taking vacations to Hawaii or buying flat screen TV’s,” the man at the bank told her … as if either of those things were high on Buffy’s list of things to pay for. “And you can’t pay off other debt with it. This way, if you do default, we’ll have some chance of getting our money back,” he explained. “You will need to submit copies of invoices and work orders from any contractors you use and those need to match the checks you write on the line of credit.”
 
Despite the exorbitant rate of interest and Buffy’s reticence about mortgaging their house, she agreed … it was the only way to stop the damage being done by the little, winged demons that had taken up residence with them in the mansion.
 
On her way home from the bank, the Blue Bomber turned into the parking lot at the Department of Children and Families … seemingly of its own accord. Buffy parked the van and sat there in the parking lot for a long time … she had to do something to help her family; she knew Spike wouldn’t like it, but … Finally, Buffy took a deep breath, summoned her courage, swallowed back her tears and her pride, and headed inside to see about getting food stamps. She’d just have to make Spike see that everyone needed help sometimes and it wasn’t a reflection on him … or them.
 
**~**
 
After the termites, things continued to get worse as the summer went on ….
 
On a balmy night in July, Spike came home to find Buffy in the basement rinsing their clothes out in the utility sink and wringing them out by hand before tossing them into the dryer. The washer had died halfway through a load… there were four more loads waiting to be washed. Now Buffy was washing clothes and dishes by hand, since the dishwasher had died months ago. Two days later a new washing machine and a new dishwasher were delivered and installed, and another store credit card bill was added to the stack…

 

One hot night in August he came home to find her inconsolable in the backyard. As Spike had feared, the southern California heat had been too much for the mandrake plants and the few that remained after the bunny assault on the garden, succumbed to the late summer swelter. No matter what she tried – putting up shade cloth, watering three and four times a day … she even brought fans out with long extension cords to try and keep them cool … but nothing worked. She finally had to admit defeat and that started a cascade of tears that she’d been powerless to stop. Spike held her in his arms in the grass under the oak tree until nearly dawn … he felt like a failure. He was working double shifts six nights a week, he was hustling games of pool and darts and poker, but still, it wasn’t enough, it wasn’t nearly enough. Everything was going to hell in a handbasket and he felt powerless to stop it.
 
The coup de grâce came one stormy night in September when he came in to find over half of the research library had been moved into the training room, along with the couch and chairs and TV. Where the bookcases and furniture had been now sat pots and pans, bowls, garbage cans, and buckets of every size and color … the water dripping from the high, cathedral ceiling above played a depressing symphony … plop, pling, splash, plop, pling, splash, plop, pling, splash …

 

Buffy sat on the stairs in utter shock, watching but not seeing and listening but not hearing, the morose production of Chinese water torture. Before the reality of the whole scene even had time to sink in with Spike, Xander arrived with several blue tarps from the twenty-four hour Wal-Mart and he and Spike went up on the roof to cover it with them in an effort to stop the indoor downpour. Buffy sat emotionless on the staircase as the plaster from the ceiling began to fall in large chunks when Spike and Xander began walking across the waterlogged, termite damaged, flat roof of the mansion as they spread the tarps out and tried to secure them.

As she watched the plaster rain down with the … rain onto the floor of the great room, the phone began to ring, but it barely registered with her. After four rings, the answering machine picked up with a cheery greeting that seemed to grate against the scene in the house like fingernails on a blackboard. Buffy’s happy voice bubbled out of the answering machine,

“Twinkle, Twinkle little star,
bet you’re wondering where we are!
Well, put your mouth up to the phone,
And leave us a message for when we get home.
And if you can make your message rhyme,
We'll call you back in half the time!!!!!”



As whoever was on the other end of the phone hung up without leaving a message, Annie appeared at the top of the stairs. “Mom?” she ventured tentatively as she walked down the stairs to where Buffy was sitting, but Buffy didn’t even hear her.
 
“Mama …” Annie tried again when she got closer. “Mama, it’s raining in my room too … Mama?”
 
Buffy finally turned and looked at her daughter as the words filtered through the fog in her mind. Buffy nodded and stood up slowly, holding onto the banister to keep from toppling over out of utter exhaustion. She’d called Xander when it started raining indoors and he’d helped her move the stuff into the training room, which hadn’t been leaking, then he went to get the tarps… but even with his help she was left exhausted; not to mention mentally and emotionally drained.
 
Buffy turned on the stairs and headed up to Annie’s room and started moving things out into the hallway. She’d just gotten her daughter’s mattress out in the hall when she heard a loud crash in the next room … the newly painted, newly furnished, (with used furniture and bedding and toys from the consignment shop) pink and lavender nursery.

 

She and Annie rushed over and Billy and Dani both came out of their new separate bedrooms down the hall to see what had happened. Inside the nursery, which Buffy had spent hours and hours working on, not to mention the money she’d spent on the furniture and bedding, they found Xander writhing in pain on the floor. He’d fallen through the termite and water weakened roof, crashed through the ceiling, and brought down dirt and tarpaper and water from the roof, along with drywall, plaster, and lathe from the ceiling, with him.
 
“Oh my God! Xander!” Buffy exclaimed rushing over to him, but when she dropped down onto her knees next to him, she was hit with a pain in her abdomen so strong it doubled her over. It only took a moment for Spike to drop down through the hole in the roof into the nursery where he found both Buffy and Xander on the floor in agony. Buffy was clutching her stomach and moaning and Xander was reaching for his leg. His foot lay at a grotesquely unnatural angle, an angle that could only mean one thing, Xander’s leg was broken.
 
“Call 911!” he instructed Annie as he rushed over to the pair on the floor. “Buffy, what is it? What’s wrong?” he demanded in a panic. He didn’t know if Xander had fallen on her or what had happened.
 
“I … don’t … know. OH GOD! It hurts … God, Spike!” Buffy exclaimed as she held her stomach tighter and tried to stop whatever it was that seemed to be stabbing her from the inside out.
 
Spike grabbed Buffy up, cradling her in his arms, and headed out of the room and for the stairs.
 
“They’re on the way!” Annie called to him, still holding the phone to her ear as the dispatcher continued asking questions.
 
“Stay with Harris,” Spike instructed her. “I’ll be back.”
 
“Is Mama ok!?” Billy asked wide eyed as Spike passed by him and Dani in the hall.
 
“Be ok, Junior …” Spike tried to assure him, but he didn’t sound too assuring, in fact, he sounded scared.
 
Spike wanted desperately to put Buffy in the van and drive her to the hospital himself, but he couldn’t leave Xander with a broken leg and the kids alone … so he settled for taking her into the training room and putting her down on the couch.

 

Buffy curled on her side into as small a fetal position she could get being eight months pregnant and tried to lay as still as possible. Tears streamed from her eyes … she couldn’t get the pain to stop. “Oh God … please make it stop … Spike, please … oh, God … ohhh… God it hurts, Spike.”
 
“Shhhh …ok, baby … shhhh …I’m here, I got ya’ … it’s ok … shhhhh,” Spike tried to soothe her as he knelt next to the couch and held her, not knowing what else to do. “Breathe, Buffy … breathe, breathe, easy now …” he admonished her, as he blew in and out exaggeratedly like they taught in the Lamaze class, trying to calm her.
 
Buffy nodded her understanding and breathed with him, following his slow tempo, and slowly the pain subsided down to merely agonizing. Spike heard the ambulance pull up outside and he picked her back up and rushed out to meet them … getting to the ambulance before they could even get the gurney out of the back. The paramedics started firing off questions about what happened and how far along she was as Spike loaded her into the ambulance and placed her onto the gurney himself. He answered their questions as best he could since he didn’t really know what happened as he continued breathing with her and assuring her quietly, his mouth near her ear. He told them about Xander and they radioed in for another ambulance while they hooked Buffy up to an IV and put monitors on her and the baby.
 
“Buffy .. I haveta stay ‘ere with the bits ‘til they get Harris… but I’ll be right behind you, yeah?” Spike whispered to her.
 
“No, Spike …” Buffy begged, holding onto his arm.
 
“Buffy … you need to go to hospital now, I haveta get the bits … Ok? I swear I’ll be right there … I swear,” Spike promised her. “Just keep breathing like that, yeah? …Slow, in … out … slow…”
 
Buffy finally nodded and released his arm and Spike dropped a fast kiss on her forehead. “I love you,” he murmured before dashing out of the ambulance so they could get her to the hospital.
 
“Love you more…” Buffy replied softly just before the doors closed.
 
**~**
 
Dr. Benson was called to the hospital and she, along with the resident on duty, examined Buffy, did a sonogram of the baby and ran a few tests. Her pain had subsided to a dull ache with only intermittent stabbing by the time Spike and the kids got there, although she was still mentally and emotionally distressed and exhausted.
 
Luckily, it was a slow night at the ER and the nurses let Spike bring the kids in with him. He’d called Anya on the way to tell her about Xander, and called Giles so someone could watch the kids, but neither of them had arrived yet. As Spike, Annie, Dani, and Billy waited in the small curtained ‘room’ in the ER with Buffy, Dr. Benson and a nurse came in with the test results.
 
The doctor greeted Spike, whom she knew from Buffy’s previous pregnancies, and suggested the nurse take the children down the hall to get a snack. “There are some donuts in the lounge …” the doctor suggested and the nurse nodded, herding the children out of the small area. Annie looked worriedly between her mother and father, and Spike nodded to her to go. “It’ll be alright, Niblett … get a bite and you can come right back.”
 
When the children were gone, Dr. Benson turned to the worried parents. “First of all, the baby is ok, Buffy …” the doctor started and both Spike and Buffy breathed a sigh of relief as Spike held his wife’s hand with both of his. “There’s a premature abruption …or separation, in the placenta … that’s most likely what caused the pain – it began to tear as if you were going into labor, but you’ve been here …” the doctor looked at the admittance time and then at her watch, “… almost two hours and haven’t had any contractions, so I don’t think you’re actually in labor. What I’d like is for you to spend the night to be sure, then you need to be on bed rest until the baby comes.”

 

“Won’t it heal? I’m a fast healer …” Buffy suggested hopefully.
 
The doctor frowned and shook her head. “I don’t think so Buffy … it’s not really an injury, it’s a part of childbirth, it’s just starting too soon. Bed rest is really the only option.”
 
Buffy closed her eyes and shook her head. Bed rest!? BED REST?! Was she serious?
 
The doctor continued talking, “That means just short walks in the house … to the bathroom and back, no stairs, no lifting, no standing up for any length of time … you can sit in a chair, but no more than half an hour at a time, and no intercourse or anything that will put stress on your abdomen or uterus.”
 
Tears leaked from Buffy’s eyes, the doctor obviously hadn’t seen their house … it was a shambles … the roof was leaking, there was water and plaster everywhere, and the nursery was practically destroyed – everything in there needed to be taken down and washed … oh, and let’s not forget the huge hole in the roof. Bed rest!?

 

The doctor looked at Spike since Buffy still had her eyes closed tightly. “You need to try and keep her stress level down and keep her off her feet,” she admonished him and Spike blew out a long breath and nodded. How was he supposed to do that? This was Buffy they were talking about…
 
“Buffy … the baby is perfectly viable, even if it comes early, but it’s best for it to go to term. It’s only about three weeks …” the doctor offered. “Sit back for a while … be a queen, let someone wait on you for a change.”
 
Buffy snorted a sarcastic laugh and opened her eyes. “Are you free?”
 
**~**
 
Buffy awoke the next morning in the hospital room they had moved her into for her overnight stay to find Spike had pushed the other bed in the room over next to hers and was sleeping next to her, still holding her hand. There was a tangle of small arms and legs laying every-which-way next to him and on top of him … all the kids were in the small bed, too.

 

Tears stung Buffy’s eyes as she watched him sleeping. He’d been working so hard, trying so hard, and everything was just slipping away … falling apart. He probably wished he’d never gotten involved with an insane Slayer and her kooky friends. He and Dru could be kicking back on the French Riviera right now, dining on the local cuisine, or the locals, at any rate, without a worry in the world… not working his ass off for a paltry paycheck that didn’t cover even half of what their expanding family needed to live, and worrying about her.
 
“Hey, cutie…” Spike murmured when he awoke a moment later.
 
Buffy smiled sadly and ran her hand through her hair, which was still tangled and dirty from the night before. “What would you do without a glamorous, drama queen for a wife?” she only half teased.
 
Spike pulled her hand to his lips and kissed her fingers gently. “I’d be lost…” he assured her sincerely. “I reckon I’d have a lot more bed, though,” he quipped as he lifted someone’s foot off his neck.
 
Buffy laughed lightly and closed her eyes.
 
“It’ll be alright, luv … no worries,” Spike assured her as he disentangled himself from the mass of small limbs and sat up on the edge of the bed.
 
“How, Spike? How is it gonna be alright?” she asked, her voice harsher than she intended. “The house is a wreck, a wreck with a mortgage, no less, the nursery is trashed … Oh, God, Xander!” Buffy suddenly remembered. “Is he alright?”
 
“Broke his leg above the ankle … lucky he didn’t break the ankle,” Spike informed her. “Be right as rain in a few weeks, he will.”

 

“Everything I touch turns to shit … you should run, Spike … run away as fast as you can and don’t look back, you could be next…” Buffy warned.
 
“Told ya before, Slayer … I don’t scare easy, and I never run. Gonna take a lot more than this to get rid o’ my sorry ass,” Spike assured her.
 
“You’re a glutton for punishment,” Buffy advised him. “You should look into getting some help for that condition…I think they may have pills for that now.”
 
“I’m a glutton for you, pet,” Spike corrected, leaning forward and dropping a soft kiss on her lips. “Don’t worry about anything, my queen… I am your humble servant,” Spike declared dramatically, as he pulled away from her and bowed at the waist.
 
“Oh, God, Spike,” Buffy sighed, a small smile on her lips. “What would I do without you?”

 

“Probably be kickin’ back on a nude beach on the French Riviera, eatin’ chocolate petit fours, and ogling the hard bodied, local boys … your only worry would be blonde, brunette, or redhead…” Spike teased, giving her a wink.
 
“You really give me the creeps sometimes,” Buffy informed him with an eye roll and a laugh, shaking her head in disbelief. Could he read her mind now or had they just been married waaay too long?

**~**
 
{{Click here to hear “Sixteen Tons” by Tennessee Ernie Ford on YouTube  }}

Some people say a man is made outta mud.
A poor man's made outta muscle and blood.
Muscle and blood, skin and bones;
A mind that's weak and a back that's strong.

You load sixteen tons an' what do you get?
Another day older and deeper in debt.
St. Peter don't you call me I cause can't go;
I owe my soul to the company store.

I was born one mornin' when the sun didn't shine.
I picked up my shovel, I walked to the mine.
I loaded sixteen tons of Number 9 coal,
An' the store boss said: "Well, bless my soul."

You load sixteen tons an' what do you get?
Another day older and deeper in debt.
St. Peter don't you call me I cause can't go;
I owe my soul to the company store.

Well, I was born one mornin', it was drizzlin' rain.
Fightin' an' trouble are my middle name.
I was raised in the canebreak by an old mama lion,
Can't no high-toned woman make me walk the line.

You load sixteen tons an' what do you get?
Another day older and deeper in debt.
St Peter don't you call me I cause can't go;
I owe my soul to the company store.

If you see me comin', better step aside.
A lotta men didn't; a lotta men died.
One fist of iron, the other of steel.
If the right one don't get you, then the left one will.

You load sixteen tons an' what do you get?
Another day older and deeper in debt.
St. Peter don't you call me I cause can't go:
I owe my soul to the company store.
End Notes:
TBC ... We'll find out how Buffy and Spike deal with the mounting debt and her bed rest next ...
Wonderful by Passion4Spike
Author's Notes:
Spike and Buffy have faced demons, monsters, and beasties of every description and made it through … but will they be able to hang tough against the almighty dollar?
**
Music Referenced:
Wonderful, Everclear http://youtu.be/MUfgAbFY4CA
 **
ScreenCaps courtesy of ScreenCap Paradise: http://www.screencap-paradise.com/?cat=3
**
Thanks to 'epd4' for betaing this chapter.
(Later that day), Friday, September 17th, 2010, 11am:
 
Since Spike had driven the mini-van to the hospital with the kids and it didn’t have necro-tempered glass like the DeSoto did, he had to take the sewers home and Buffy had to drive. Buffy had been pestering Willow every few days about trying to figure out if there was another Gem of Amarra in the world and, if so, where it might be. Barring that, Willow and Tara were trying to track down who originally created the Gem and what the spell was so they could try and replicate it. Giles had found one text while going through the Council library that seemed to speak of the ‘Holy Grail’ of vampires (based on the drawings in the old tome), but the language it was written in was foreign to him … not Latin, not even Sumerian, Hittite, or Greek … nothing that he was familiar with. He sent the book to Willow in hopes that she could decipher it and Willow emailed a few pages to Annie to see if any of it made any sense to her, but so far, no joy.
 
When Buffy and the kids got to the mansion, she parked in her usual place outside in the driveway near the walled garden, but walked down the gently sloping driveway to the garage to avoid the stairs. Annie walked with her the whole way, as she’d promised her father that she’d do, and she and Buffy entered the great room from the garage. Buffy stopped short at the sight that greeted them inside … people, lots of people… lots of friends. Xander, Wes, Fred, Giles, Faith, Amanda, and Anya were there … even Lorne was there, all working on cleaning up the mess. Xander, on crutches, his leg in a heavy plaster cast from his toes to above the knee, was acting as the conductor of the symphony as plaster and water and dirt and debris was swept and shoveled and mopped up. Giles had actually shut down the Magic Box so he and Anya could help; Fred had been down from L.A. for Council business, but she and Wes, Faith, and Amanda had dropped that to come here to help clean up the mess.

 

Tears stung Buffy’s eyes at the selflessness of her friends … especially Xander, who had to be hurting and even more exhausted than she was, to interrupt their lives and help her and Spike. Buffy started to grab a broom that was leaning up against the wall, but Annie stopped her.
 
“You have to lie down,” Annie insisted, pointing towards the couch, which was still in the training room, and trying to take the broom from her mother’s hand.
 
“But…” Buffy began, but was silenced by the determined look on her daughter’s face and a firm shake of her head.
 
“Dad said I was in charge of you until he got here … Don’t make me call Aunt Willow and have her put a spell on you to make you lay down…” Annie threatened.
 
Buffy rolled her eyes and sighed. “Remind me to never let Spike put you in charge again… you’re mean,” Buffy lamented as she released the handle of the broom and then turned and headed into the training room to the couch.
 
“And don’t try to sneak out, either…” Annie warned sternly. “I’ll bring you a glass of milk and a cookie in a minute…”
 
Buffy laughed unhumorously as she sat down on the couch, leaned back and closed her eyes, her hands automatically going to her abdomen; she couldn’t remember anyone bringing her a glass of milk and a cookie since … geez … her mom when she was little. If there wasn’t so much to do, if the house wasn’t a complete wreck, she could get used to someone bringing her a glass of milk and a cookie … as it was, sitting here doing nothing just made her feel guilty and antsy.
 
After a few minutes, Billy came in with the promised milk and cookie … well, actually, there were two cookies. Buffy offered him one of them but he declined. “I just had one,” he explained with a guilty smile as he sat down on the couch next to her.
 
“Are you gonna be ok?” he asked her as Buffy nibbled at the cookie and drank the milk.
 
“Yeah, baby … I’ll be fine, I just have to rest for a while,” Buffy assured him.
 
“Last night in the car, Papa told Uncle Giles on the phone that it was like before … when you had us …” Billy fished some more.
 
“No, honey, it’s really not. It’s different. I just did too much and now I have to rest,” Buffy continued to assure him.
 
“So, you aren’t gonna die, right?” Billy continued, his big blue eyes full of worry.

 

“Oh, baby … no, I’m not gonna die. You can’t get rid of me that easily,” Buffy tried to tease, putting an arm around him and hugging him tightly against her side.
 
Billy scrunched his nose and lips up. “We don’t want to get rid of you. We’d be sad … like when we had to give away the kittens. If we give too many kittens away, then we’ll be afraid of love and we’d have to run away… then Papa would be all alone,” Billy explained in earnest.
 
Buffy furrowed her brow momentarily and shook her head, trying to sort out what he was talking about. “Ok … well, don’t worry, I promise we won’t give any more kittens away and no one’s gonna leave anyone else all alone.”
 
Billy pursed his lips together thoughtfully and nodded his agreement before leaning his head against her. “I think that’s a good idea.”
 
**~**
 
When Spike got there, he checked on Buffy and made her actually lay down on the couch rather than sit, despite her arguments that she was fine, then he went a made her a grilled cheese sandwich and chicken noodle soup for lunch and brought it to her before heading out to help their friends with the clean up. As the day went on, everyone slowly filtered in to see her, each one bringing her something to eat or drink or both … she was actually starting to feel like Gretel of ‘Hansel and Gretel’ fame … like she was being fattened up for the oven. After a couple of hours, she ventured out of her room, unable to stand it anymore, and was met with a chorus of admonishments from her friends to go back and lay down.

 

“Can I please pee?” she argued, pointing to the bathroom.
 
“Oh, indeed…” Giles agreed, moving over to her and taking her arm to help her walk.
 
“Giles … I can walk, I’m not an invalid,” Buffy contended.
 
“Well, let’s just make sure, shall we?” he insisted. Buffy rolled her eyes and shook her head, but let him lead her to the bathroom. When he started to walk in with her, she stopped him.
 
“I can handle it from here … thanks,” she assured him, pushing lightly on his chest.
 
“Are you quite sure?” Giles questioned.
 
“I have a system, I've been perfecting it for years … it’s a one person operation,” Buffy insisted, closing the door in his face.
 
“Quite right … I’ll wait here,” he called through the closed door.
 
“Please don’t … I can’t pee with people listening,” she argued.
 
“I assure you, I won’t listen…”
 
“Giles!” Buffy moaned.
 
“Alright … but just call when you’re done, then,” Giles acquiesced, moving away from the door.
 
 **~**
 
When Buffy emerged from the bathroom, Spike was coming down the stairs lugging their mattress. Buffy sighed and her shoulders sagged. Had that gotten rained on too? She moved to the other side to help him…
 
“OI! What the bloody hell do ya think you’re doin’?” Spike stopped in his tracks, setting the edge of the heavy mattress down on the floor.
 
“Helping?” Buffy asked meekly.
 
“Noooo … you are not helping anybody. Get your stubborn, Summers ass back in that room and lay the bloody hell down!” Spike commanded her, pointing at the training room.
 
Buffy rolled her eyes again and sighed heavily, letting her shoulders droop. “I feel like a big, worthless, blimp,” she moaned as she shuffled dejectedly across the floor back to her ‘cell’.
 
As she entered the training room, she was surprised when she saw their bed frame and the box springs already in there and stopped short, blocking the doorway. “If ya want to help, get the bloody hell outta the way, Slayer,” Spike insisted as he followed her in with the mattress.
 
Buffy jumped slightly when he spoke, pulling her out of her musings of how he’d gotten that down here so fast, and then quickly moved out of the way. “What are you doing?”
 
“Gettin’ you comfy-cozy … got the TV in ‘ere … and the bed, Annie’s gatherin’ ya up some books and trashy magazines … you’ll be snug as a bug,” Spike informed her.
 
“You didn’t have to bring the bed down, Spike … I could’ve gone up…” Buffy began.
 
“You got cotton in them ears, Slayer? No stairs…” Spike reminded her.
 
Buffy shook her head. She had remembered that when she got home and didn’t take the garden stairs down, but somehow the fact that she couldn’t take the stairs inside the house hadn’t clicked in her brain.
 
Before long, a ‘couch potato’ oasis was set up for Buffy in the training room … she had the bed and the couch and the TV and videos and books and magazines and a deck of cards and her iPod … there were donuts and cookies and chips and a bag of Hershey’s kisses and a pitcher of ice water on the table near the bed. She had everything she needed to turn into Jabba the Hutt.
 
All of her friends stopped in several times over the course of the day as they worked on getting the mess cleaned up, which only made Buffy feel guiltier seeing them all hot and dirty and sweaty from working on the mess in her house while she sat there like a bump on a log. By the middle of the afternoon, the mess had been cleared out and the huge hole in the roof of the nursery had been temporarily fixed, Anya had re-washed and dried all the linens and curtains from the nursery and put them in one of the spare rooms until the roof could be permanently fixed.
 
At one point, Faith stopped in and brought Buffy a Frappachino and double chocolate brownie from Starbucks.
 
“Wow! I need to be put on bed rest more often!” Buffy enthused when she saw the bag, trying to force her mind to stop calculating how much ‘real food’ she could buy with what Faith spent on just those two luxuries.
 
“Well, I figured you weren’t getting enough chocolate or caffeine, which I have on good authority are really vital nutrients for pregnant women,” Faith explained.
 
“Very true…” Buffy agreed taking a bite of the brownie … look out Jabba, Buffy the Hutt’s on the way!
 
“Soooo …” Faith began, sitting down in the chair next to Buffy. “I was thinking…”
 
“Be careful, I have it on good authority that too much thinking is bad for your brain…” Buffy teased as she washed down the chocolaty goodness of the brownie with a sip of the over-priced drink.

 

“No doubt …” Faith agreed, giving Buffy a quick grin. “But, you know me! I like to live dangerously … So, I was thinking, if you guys still have a spare room … well, I wondered if I could move back in at the end of the month. I… well, Willy gave my job to some guy from the 'Blue Man Group' and all I’ve got now is what the Council is paying. I can pay room and board … I don’t want to stay for free, but I just can’t afford my own place and I’m hardly ever there anyway …”
 
“Oh … well, yeah, I mean, we have room, Faith, but you know the kids are a lot older now and they’re everywhere …” Buffy started.
 
“Oh, me and the Scooby pups get along fine … they don’t bother me. I can even help, you know, babysit if you and Spike want to ‘patrol’ or whatever…” Faith volunteered, giving Buffy a wink.
 
“Well, yeah … that sounds great,” Buffy began. “But, Faith … you can’t be bringing guys … strangers here.”
 
“Oh! No – that’s no deal, B! … I’m off guys!” Faith assured her.
 
Buffy’s brows shot up. “Or girls…no strange girls either…”
 
“No ... I didn’t switch teams, I’m just … I’m taking a hiatus … I’m abstaining,” Faith explained.
 
Buffy’s brows went up further, if that was possible. “You’re … abstaining from … sex? Since when?”

 

Faith shrugged. “Since London. I just … I’m trying to get my head around what I really want and I think what I really want is what you and Spike have. I know it's like ... wild craziness, but I'm thinking I can’t find that jumping the bones of every anonymous guy I meet,” Faith continued to explain her decision.
 
“Wow. That’s really … wow. Seriously?” Buffy questioned, her brow furrowed in disbelief.
 
Faith shrugged one shoulder and rolled her eyes. “Like I said, crazy, right?”
 
“Well … it’s … wow,” Buffy stammered, scratching her head a bit. “Ok, then … yeah. I mean, let me talk to Spike, but I don’t see why not. It would help to have another adult here…”
 
“Cool, B! Thanks!” Faith offered brightly, standing up.
 
“Uhhhhh … just so I understand, you’re trying to find true love by not having sex…” Buffy questioned.
 
“Right.”
 
“Uh-huh … well, let me know how that works out for ya’,” Buffy urged her friend.
 
“You’ll be the first to know … I mean, after me … and probably him … you’ll be the third to know!” Faith assured her. “Be sure to finish that frappy … gotta have plenty of caffeine for my new little niece to grow on!” the brunette called over her shoulder as she headed out of the training room.
 
**~**

 

Xander limped into the training room on his crutches and sat down gingerly in the chair next to the bed where Buffy was dutifully staying … popping Hershey Kisses into her mouth, trying to figure out what exactly was going on with ‘All My Children’, and washing the Kisses down with a Tab that someone had brought her earlier. More vital chocolate and caffeine nutrients for the baby to grow on … along with Buffy’s hips. Oh well, she'd worry about hips after she stopped being Queen of the Damned... or whatever it was she was supposed to be queen of.
 
“Xander … I’m soooo sorry,” Buffy began, clicking the TV off, sitting up, and swinging her legs off the bed.
 
Xander brushed it off. “Hey – what’s it been? About thirteen years of fighting evil here on the Hellmouth? … Evil has to win once in a while, even if the evil is little bug-eyed, wood-eating monsters,” he joked. “I’ve always had a thing for insects ... or they had a thing for me, not really sure now... Either way, it’s kinda ironic, they finally got me.”
 
“Oh, Xand …I’m still really, really sorry. Have Anya send the bills to me, I’ll pay them,” Buffy offered.
 
“Did you forget? Anya made Giles provide health insurance a long time ago … we’ll just have the co-pays, so no big, Buffy, but thanks for the offer,” Xander assured her.
 
“But … how will you work? I know money's tight …” Buffy started.
 
“I haven’t had many handy-man jobs lately, anyway … I’m sure I can still serve beer at the Bronze on one leg,” Xander assured her again. "Might even garner me some sympathy tips..."
 
Buffy sighed. “I’m so sorry,” she repeated.
 
“And this concludes the atonement portion of the program,” Xander announced. “Forget it, Buff … it’s kinda cool, actually. I’m gonna tell everyone I was thrown from a speeding train while rescuing Miranda Kerr from certain death during a photo shoot…”
 
Buffy looked at him blankly. “Miranda …”
 
“Tell me you know Miranda Kerr, Buff! …Victoria’s Secret … Maybelline ... uhhh … Victoria’s Secret …” Xander stammered. “She has the most amazing …” Xander cupped his hands in front of his chest to simulate breasts, “…eyes.”

 

He picked up the stack of magazines off the table and scanned them quickly. “Oh … and she makes a very sexy, naked eco-warrior …” he added, handing Buffy a Rolling Stone magazine from the stack.

 

"Well … I’m glad your suffering was for a worthy cause, anyway…” Buffy joked, rolling her eyes and setting the magazine back down.
 
“Here! You can be the first to sign my cast!” Xander offered, lifting his broken leg up and propping it on the bed. “Right after JJ, Anya, Annie, Dani, Billy, Faith, Fred, and Amanda …”
 
Buffy laughed and picked up a marker and wrote:
 
My hero!
With all my love,
Miranda
 

“Thanks, Xand…”
 
“That’s what I’m here for, little lady…” Xander mocked in a John Wayne voice, pushing the brim of an invisible cowboy hat up with one finger.

 

“So …” Xander continued, gingerly lowering his leg down off the bed. “I called a few contractor friends that I know … I’ve got three coming tomorrow to give you an estimate on the repairs…”
 
Buffy nodded and sighed. So much for just having a ‘small’ mortgage…
 
“I can meet them here if you want … make sure they know everything that needs to be done,” her hero offered.
 
“That would be great … ‘cos I’d just have to say ‘fix it’ …” Buffy admitted.
 
“No problem, Buff …” Xander assured her as he grabbed his crutches and started to stand back up. “Don’t worry about anything – you just be the queen … rest and chillax here in the throne room ... errr ... that would be the actual throne room, not the one with the toilet in it," he added hastily. "Let the rest of us take the lead for once…”
 
Buffy snorted a laugh and rolled her eyes, but nodded. “Thanks again – you guys are the best.”
 
“Of course we are! I mean, only the best would risk life and limb to save a homely, eco-warrior from certain death!”
 
**~**
 
(A week later), Thursday, September 22nd, 2010, 2:45am:
 
Spike slogged through the door from the garage into the great room in an exhausted stupor. He didn’t actually even remember driving home from the docks … but apparently he did, he was here. The last week had pretty much done him in … he’d been tired before that, working double shifts to try and keep his family afloat, but the last few days of trying to keep Buffy off her feet had him bone-weary and feeling more like a zombie than a vampire. If he started craving flesh instead of blood, he'd know the transformation had been complete.
 
As had become the new routine, Spike headed for the research table and checked on Bess. If she was headed for Philadelphia like he thought, she was taking the long way round. She had veered off I-40 in Fort Smith, Arkansas and started heading more north-east since then, passing through Springfield and St. Louis and was currently on a track towards Indianapolis. It wasn’t the route he would of used to get to Philadelphia, but if she turned due east on I-70 in Columbus, Ohio, it would get her there.


 

Spike dropped his duster down on the table next to the map and headed into the training room to retrieve the sleeping children and carry them up to their own beds, which was another new routine. After Spike headed to work at night, it was up to the kids to make sure Buffy stayed where she was supposed to be, so they stayed with her in the training room watching TV, doing their homework, playing games, reading books … whatever it took – and they usually fell asleep on the bed next to her long before he got home. As he walked into the room, expecting to find everyone asleep, he was caught off guard by Buffy being up and sitting at the table next to the bed looking more than a little stressed, which she also wasn't supposed to be.

 

“What ya’ doing up, luv?” Spike questioned as he stepped around the table and dropped a kiss on her forehead. “You should be sleepin’ …”
 
Buffy sighed and picked up some papers from the table. “Xander got the estimates for the repairs…” she informed him. “I think we could buy a whole new house for what it’s gonna cost…” Buffy sighed heavily and handed Spike the estimates.
 
Spike scanned them and had to agree … he’d seen foreclosure houses advertised for less … but who knew what repairs those houses would need – plus, they weren’t nearly as large as the mansion, not by a long shot, and with their expanding family, they needed room.
 
“I’m working just as hard as I bloody well can, Slayer … I don’t know what more you want me to do!” Spike spat back in frustration, dropping the estimates back down on the table.
 
“I know that! You don’t think I know that? You think sitting here all day long like a parasite, being nothing more than a fucking incubator while I try to figure out how to keep the bills juggled and the electricity turned on is a bowl full of cherries?” Buffy retorted. “You know, Spike, – I’m really not in the mood for the ‘Hank and Joyce Summers Greatest Hits’ tonight,” Buffy informed him tersely before dropping her face into her hands. “I don’t want to fight … please, let’s not fight…” she begged quietly.
 
Spike pursed his lips together and closed his eyes. Why was he yelling at her? It wasn’t her fault…
 
“Sorry, pet … I … just …” Spike sighed heavily, laying a hand on her back. “I’m tryin’…”

 

“I know you are. I don’t know how you’re even still standing,” Buffy murmured softly.
 
“How are we gonna pay for all this?” she questioned despondently, raking her hand over a stack of overdue bills that sat on the table next to her.
 
Spike pulled a handful of crumpled money out of his pocket and dropped $300 on the table … he had been hoping to use it as ante money and parlay it into a thousand later this week when the next wave of overconfident, and preferably drunken, sailors came in the bar.  He kept fifty to use for betting … leaving $250 for Buffy to use to pay some of the bills.
 
“Just pay the most important … electric, water … like that, sod the rest,” he told her. “I’ll … I’ll get more later,” he promised her, trying to sound assuring, but mostly just sounding defeated.
 
“Spike … I’m sorry,” Buffy offered, looking up at him.
 
Spike furrowed his brow and shook his head. “What’re you sorry for, pet?”
 
Buffy shook her head. “Just everything … letting Angel take all the money away and being a bump on a log and a pain in the ass and … just everything,” she lamented, blinking tears back.
 
“Buffy … it’s not your fault, pet,” Spike assured her, kneeling down next to her. “We’ll figure it out … it’ll be alright.”

 

“You must wish you’d never met me sometimes…” Buffy muttered softly, shaking her head and looking back down at the stack of bills on the table.
 
Spike shook his head. “You’re looking at the wrong thing, Slayer… That bollocks don’t mean anything!” he informed her, sweeping the stack of bills onto the floor with his hand.
 
“Right there,” he told her, turning her head towards the bed and the three sleeping children. “That’s the only thing that means a bloody thing to me. You and them – nothing else. Buffy, it’s your love and the love of those little bits that keeps me going every day, that makes me want to do better, not for me, for you – for them. You can’t buy that … money don’t buy love, Buffy, and love is the only thing that really means sod all to me.”
 
“Oh, Spike …” Buffy cried, leaning forward, wrapping her arms around his neck and dropping her head against his shoulder. “You know I love you … I love you so much … we all do.”
 
“I know, pet … I love you too. No worries now, we’ll figure the money out. I got a couple a’ ideas … put some feelers out … it’ll work out,” Spike assured her. “You just need to worry about this little bit and leave the rest to me, yeah?” he admonished her, laying a hand on her belly.
 
That was much easier said than done, but Buffy nodded against his shoulder, taking a deep breath to try and calm down. “I feel like a … burden. This queen routine is piling too much on you,” Buffy moaned, pulling back to look at his tired eyes as she ran a hand softly down the side of his face. She knew it wasn't possible, be he seemed to have aged the last couple of months ... maybe it was the dark circles under his eyes that made it look that way.

 

Spike closed his eyes and tilted his head, leaning into her comforting touch. Buffy touched her lips softly to his and Spike … didn’t seem to notice. “Spike?” she questioned softly. “Honey?” Nothing.
 
Buffy shook her head in disbelief … he was almost literally dead on his feet … except he was on his knees. Despite the doctor’s orders, Buffy lifted Spike up slightly and rolled him onto the bed which was right next to them.
 
She pulled his boots off and covered him and the kids up with the sheet. After picking up the bills from the floor, Buffy switched the light off and laid down on the couch … ‘cos there was no more room in the bed, and tried to go to sleep. An old joke floated through her mind as she thought about what Spike had said … 'People who say money can’t buy happiness don’t know where to shop.'
 
Buffy sighed and closed her eyes. That was cute and funny … but ultimately, Spike was right; money couldn’t buy love, not true love, and love was something they had in spades. Tomorrow she’d get Xander to help her decide which contractor to hire and she’d increase the mortgage on the house and keep the wolf away from their door another day. They’d worry about how to pay for it after the baby came, when she could carry her weight and help Spike instead of just being a huge, blood-sucking leech, weighing him down. They’d figure it out together, just like they always had, she assured herself.
 
**~**
 
Later that day, 10am:
 
“So,” Buffy summarized what Xander had explained to her about the bids. “None of these guys are actually doing the work … they’re just hiring other guys ... they're like ... pimps.”
 
“Well, in a really boring, unsexy way, yeah. You need carpenters and roofers and drywall guys and plaster-erers…” Xander untangled his tongue and shook his head. “Most guys are good at one or two things … I mean, I know how to do carpentry and drywall, but this flat roof you have is kinda beyond my expertise and you want a really good plaster man to match the new plaster to the old so it doesn’t look dorky and, well … repaired.”
 
Buffy furrowed her brow and looked back down at the bids. “So, how much of this money does the pimp keep out of this?”
 
Xander shrugged. “Each one’s probably different, but maybe fifteen or twenty percent… and they do more than just ... uhhh, pimp out labor, they also pull the permits and oversee the whole thing, make sure everyone gets paid, and everything passes the inspections and is done right.”
 
“Well,” Buffy continued. “Don’t you know how to do all that?”
 
Xander furrowed his brow. “Well … yeah…”
 
“And since you'd just be pimping out other guys, and they'd be the ones doing all the hammering and heavy lifting, you could still do it with a broken leg, right?" she wondered.

 

“Well … yeah, I guess...” Xander agreed. "But could we drop the 'pimping of guys' talk, 'cos, oddly, that's just not a good visual for me."
 
Buffy handed him the estimates back. “Then you do it. I’d rather pay you than some stranger.”
 
“But, Buffy … these guys do this for a living – they have contacts I might not…” Xander argued.
 
Buffy shrugged. “A superman that can save Miranda Kerr from certain death should be able to handle it…” she teased. “I have faith in you.”


 **~**
 
(Two days later) Sunday, September 26th, 2010:
 
With Buffy on bed rest and the mansion in such disarray, trying to throw her a big surprise baby shower at her house was out of the question, so they just had a really small gathering at the Harris home on Sunday evening, Spike’s night off. All of Buffy’s closest friends were there, male and female, young and old. Willow and Tara came down with Eddie; Giles, of course had to attend, and Olivia was in town for a visit, so she was there, as well; Faith stopped in before going on patrol; Wes made a short appearance, and of course Xander and Anya and JJ were there, along with Spike and the Weckerly kids. It really turned into a big ‘welcome Eddie to the family’ party … with the baby shower gifts almost an afterthought, as everyone fawned over the six month old and commented on how much he’d grown and how handsome he was. No one could’ve been more proud and happy to see him than Giles, who had been too engrossed in Council work, as well as his duties at the Magic Box, to get up to see him since returning from London.
 
Buffy was overwhelmed by everyone’s generosity at the shower. Even though she’d gotten the nursery furnished, she hadn’t had money to buy things like diapers and bottles and baby powder and lotions and onesies or all the other ‘little’ things that seemed to add up so fast. Then there were the big things that she’d been trying to figure out how to swing, like a car seat and a new baby monitor and a bouncy seat and a high chair, a stroller, a playpen, and a bassinette… And, of course, since everyone knew the sex of the baby for the first time, no one could resist buying some of those cute little girly-girl outfits for the baby in various sizes that drew ‘awwwww’s from the women and slightly confused shrugs and head shakes from the men.

 

Buffy was once again reminded of how lucky she was and what good friends she and Spike had, even though most of them were struggling financially too, they still took some of their hard earned dollars and made sure the new little bit would have everything it needed to start off right. Now it was up to her and Spike to figure out how to keep that good start going…
 
When the party was breaking up, Buffy pulled Willow aside. “Please tell me you’ve figured out something about the Gem,” Buffy begged her friend.
 
Willow sighed. “I’ve been working on a program to try and decipher the language that book Giles sent me is written in, but so far, no joy. Every time I think it’s got it figured out and a couple of words start making sense, the next sentence will say something like … ‘The zebra smelled the iron fish and ate the driveway,’” Willow told her with a disappointed frown. “I’m really trying, Buffy …”
 
Buffy sighed and gave Willow a reassuring smile. “I know you are … I just … I really worry about Spike, I mean, all it takes is one demon getting lucky … just one good day and …” Buffy let her voice trail off, leaving her ultimate fear unspoken.
 
“I know … Buffy, I’ve never seen anything like this … it’s not only a lost, ancient language, but it’s been jumbled up too … I have to decode it and translate it and it’s just taking time. It’d be totally fascinating if I didn’t know how much you were depending on me to find out out if there really is another Gem and where it is,” Willow explained.
 
“Maybe you need one of those decoder rings Spike gave the kids when he inducted them into the Scooby gang …” Buffy teased.
 
Willow’s brows shot up and her eyes went wide. “Awwww! We never got decoder rings! That’s so not fair!”


 
(Next Day), Monday, September 29th, 3:30pm:
 
Spike watched from the shaded safety of the seldom used front entrance of the mansion as JJ, Annie, Dani, and Billy got off their school buses and walked the short distance back to the house. Since Annie’s bus arrived first, she would wait for the younger kids and they’d all walk back to the house together. Certainly Annie would say she was eleven and didn’t need anyone to meet her at the bus stop, but Spike wasn’t so easily swayed. Since neither he nor Buffy could go meet the bus just now unless he went in the DeSoto, he satisfied his over-protective side by keeping a watchful eye out for them from the portico.
 
Annie grabbed the mail from the box as the younger children ran by her into the house, laughing and rough-housing as they went by Spike as if he wasn’t even there. Annie handed Spike the mail and he put an arm around her shoulders as they both headed into the house.
 
“Good day at school, Niblett?” he asked as they walked.

 

“Nooooo,” Annie moaned, pulling a paper out of her book bag. “I totally suck at math…” she informed him, handing him the math test she’d taken last Friday.
 
“B minus?” Spike questioned, looking at the score on the top. “You got your mum beat by several letters, I’d wager…”
 
“That’s not really a big comfort…” Annie reminded him.
 
Spike snorted a laugh. “I bet your mum will hang this one up on the fridge … proud as a peacock, she’ll be. You should be too, pet. It’s brilliant.”

 

Annie rolled her eyes. She hated getting anything but ‘A’s … some might call her an overachiever.
 
“Here … go show ‘er. I bet she hangs it on the fridge …” Spike encouraged her.
 
“What do you wanna bet?” Annie questioned.
 
“I bet … hmmm … if she don’t hang it on the fridge, I’ll let ya paint m’ nails pink … but if she does, you gotta wash m’ car on Saturday,” Spike offered.
 
Fingernails … and you have to keep the polish on for a week …” Annie clarified.
 
“It’s a bet,” Spike announced, sticking his right hand out and Annie shook it before running off towards the training room with her test.
 
Spike went into the kitchen and began scanning the mail, tossing the junk into the garbage bin and putting the bills in a stack to add to the even bigger stack that Buffy had in the other room. He stopped when he got to one from ‘Department of Children and Families’ … What the bloody hell now?

 

When Buffy and Annie came into the kitchen, Spike looked up from the letter, which said they had been approved for food stamps. Their ‘EBT’ card was enclosed and gave instructions on setting up a PIN for it and how to use it at the store, what they could and couldn’t buy with it, etc.

 

“Spike! Did you see this!?” Buffy questioned proudly, heading for the fridge with Annie’s test. “Annie got a B minus on her math test! Isn’t that great?!”
 
“Mom … please don’t …” Annie begged as Buffy secured it to the fridge door with a magnet.
 
“Why not!? You’re a genius! There’s nothing wrong with being proud of being a math whiz!” Buffy gushed.
 
“I’m totally not a math whiz … and now I have to wash Vader on Saturday …” Annie moaned.
 
“Go to your room, Niblett,” Spike ordered sternly.
 
“Huh? I was just gonna…” Annie began, heading for the fridge to get a snack.
 
“Go. To. Your. Room… Now,” Spike repeated, glaring at Buffy angrily.
 
“I … uhhh … ummmm … ok,” Annie stammered when she saw her father’s jaw clench and tic … that was never good.
 
“What’s wrong with you, Spike?!” Buffy started. “Getting a B minus is great! Why are you yelling at her?”
 
“What the bloody hell is this?” Spike demanded extending the food stamps letter to Buffy.

 

Buffy furrowed her brow as she took it and began reading. She’d actually given up on it, it had been so long since she applied and hadn’t heard anything back from them. “It’s … I … uhhh,” Buffy took a deep breath and looked up at her husband. She could almost see the steam coming out of his ears, she could definitely feel the seething anger radiating off him.
 
“Spike, it’s just a little temporary help until I can get off this bed rest and …” Buffy began trying to explain.
 
“It’s bloody WELFARE!” Spike screamed at her, making her flinch. “I don’t take handouts, Slayer … and neither do you.”
 
“Spike … it’s not a handout, it’s just help until…”
 
“It’s a bloody handout! You don’t think I can feed this family, that it? Don’t anyone here look like they’re starving t’ me … do they to you?” Spike questioned.
 
“No … of course not,” Buffy agreed. “I just thought, if we had a little help with the food…”
 
You thought! You thought!?” Spike screamed at her. “Last I checked, there was more than you here – didn’t think to ask me, then, did ya?”

 

“No, I didn’t ask you. You know why? Because I knew what you’d say! I knew you’d go off the fucking deep end, again! We need help, Spike – we’ve paid our taxes for years – paid our dues, now that we need it, it’s time to get a little of that back!” Buffy argued.
 
“Sod that, Slayer! Give it back – we don’t need it! I can feed my own family – don’t need Uncle Sam footin’ m’ bleedin' bills!” Spike ordered.
 
“No! I will not give it back. We do need it! Why are you so fucking pig-headed and stubborn!?” Buffy defied him adamantly.
 
“Me stubborn!? Pffffft! You invented fucking stubborn, woman! I don’t know what you want from me, Slayer! Ya got m’ blood, sweat, and tears and that just ain’t enough!” Spike contended.
 
“What I want is for us to stop fighting! What I want is for you to stop working sixteen hours a fucking day! What I want is my husband back! Is that too much to ask?!” Buffy screamed at him.

 

“I reckon it is!” Spike screamed back, before turning on his heal and heading for the door. “I’m goin’ to work – at least I get some bloody respect there!”
 
“Spike! Spike, damn it, come back!” Buffy called, walking out of the kitchen after him, but he just kept going, slamming the door to the garage and squealing tires on the DeSoto as he left.

“Damn it…” Buffy moaned as she rubbed tiredly at her eyes and tried to keep from crying. “I’m only trying to help…”
 
**~**
 
After being ordered out of the kitchen, Annie stopped Dani, JJ, and Billy at the bottom of the stairs as they came back down from changing into play clothes. They could hear Spike and Buffy screaming at each other in the kitchen and they all stood silently and listened.

 

When Spike stormed out of the kitchen towards the garage, they all scampered up the stairs and down the hallway, but he didn’t even notice them. They stopped on the landing, just out of view from downstairs, and listened to see if he was coming back, but knew he wasn’t when they heard the car pull out of the driveway.
 
“Is Papa mad at us?” Billy questioned.
 
“No …” Annie assured them. “I don’t think so.”
 
“Is he mad at Mama?” Dani asked.
 
“Yeah … I guess,” Annie replied sadly. “I think … I think his new job doesn’t pay what the old one did and there isn’t enough money…” Annie shrugged, not really sure why things had been so tense in the house lately.
 
“Why doesn’t he get his old one back, then?” JJ voiced what the others were wondering.
 
“I don’t know … I think he was gone too long and now his old boss is mad at him,” Annie explained.
 
“They aren’t gonna get divorced, are they?” Billy asked, knowing that lots of their friends in school had parents that were divorced.
 
Annie shrugged. “I don’t know…”

“My mom and dad fight like that too sometimes … but they get over it,” JJ offered, trying to help.
 
“What’s ‘welfare’?” Dani wondered.
 
“It’s what poor people that can’t find a job get to live on …” Annie told them.
 
“Are we poor?” Billy asked.
 
Annie shrugged. “I don’t know.” She didn’t think they were poor, but now she wasn’t sure.
 
“But Papa’s working all the time – he can’t even come to my soccer games …” Dani pointed out.
 
“I know …” Annie agreed sadly, he couldn’t come to her dance recitals, either.
 
“Is it our fault?” Billy asked, his expressive blue eyes framed with worry. "Did we do something wrong?"
 
Annie shrugged and frowned as her stomach tightened with worry. “I don’t know…”
 
 **~**
 
{{Click here to hear “Wonderful” by Everclear on YouTube }}

"Hey, ain't life wonderful? Wonderful, wonderful, wonderful... Isn't everything wonderful now?"

I close my eyes when I get too sad
I think thoughts that I know are bad
Close my eyes and I count to ten
Hope it's over when I open them

I want the things that I had before
Like a Star Wars poster on my bedroom door
I wish I could count to ten
Make everything be wonderful again

Hope my mom and I hope my dad
Will figure out why they get so mad
Hear them scream, I hear them fight
They say bad words that make me wanna cry

Close my eyes when I go to bed
And I dream of angels who make me smile
I feel better when I hear them say
Everything will be wonderful someday

Promises mean everything when you're little
And the world's so big
I just don't understand how
You can smile with all those tears in your eyes
Tell me everything is wonderful now

Please don't tell me everything is wonderful now

I go to school and I run and play
I tell the kids that it's all okay
I laugh aloud so my friends won't know
When the bell rings I just don't wanna go home

Go to my room and I close my eyes
I make believe that I have a new life
I don't believe you when you say
Everything will be wonderful someday

Promises mean everything when you're little
And the world is so big
I just don't understand how
You can smile with all those tears in your eyes
When you tell me everything is wonderful now

No
No, I don't wanna hear you tell me everything is wonderful now
No
No, I don't wanna hear you tell me everything is wonderful now

I don't wanna hear you say
That I will understand someday
No, no, no, no
I don't wanna hear you say
You both have grown in a different way
No, no, no, no
I don't wanna meet your friends
And I don't wanna start over again
I just want my life to be the same
Just like it used to be
Some days I hate everything
I hate everything
Everyone and everything
Please don't tell me everything is wonderful now...

I don't wanna hear you tell me everything is wonderful now
End Notes:
TBC ... Will money succeed where Travers failed and tear Spike and Buffy and their family apart? And how will the kids deal with the fighting and tension in the house? And, perhaps more shocking, is Fatih SERIOUS with the celibacy? ;-) And when will Buffy be able to get decoder rings for the rest of the Scoobies? That's so not fair .... Will have more soon ... Thanks to everyone who leaves reviews! You have no idea how much I love hearing from everyone!
Too Much Month at the End of the Money by Passion4Spike
Author's Notes:
Spike and Buffy have faced demons, monsters, and beasties of every description and made it through … but money problems are kicking their ass.
**
Music Referenced:
Too Much Month at the End of the Money, Billy Hill, http://youtu.be/kHfk3lPy-94
 **
ScreenCaps courtesy of ScreenCap Paradise: http://www.screencap-paradise.com/?cat=3
**
Thanks to 'epd4' for betaing this chapter.
(Next day), Tuesday, September 28th, 2010, 8pm:
 
Xander had hired a few men that he knew from his old job, carpenters and drywall men, to get started on the repairs to the house, starting first with the roof joists and sheeting. As soon as they were done replacing all the damaged wood, he had a roofing company ready to come redo the whole roof of the mansion with a commercial roofing system made specifically for flat roofs. Buffy's house was now officially a construction site and appeared to be in an even bigger mess than it had been when the roof was falling in, if that was possible.
 
When Spike had gotten home from work in the early morning hours, he left Buffy and the kids sleeping downstairs and he slept in Bess’ room. When he got up that afternoon, it was clear that he hadn’t calmed down one bit since the previous night. The tension between them made Buffy’s stomach churn and she tried a couple more times to talk to him calmly about the logic of getting the food stamps, but he acted like he couldn’t even hear her, so she gave up. Spike got dinner ready to the point that all Buffy had to do was heat it up, and he headed to work early. He left shortly after the kids got home from school, barely saying three words even to them. Buffy was completely frustrated and hurt that he wouldn’t even pretend to listen to reason when all she was trying to do was help their family, help him.
 
Despite orders to not climb the stairs, Buffy waited until Anya picked JJ up, then distracted the kids with ice cream and ventured up to her office and her computer. They could yell at her later … she was getting used to being yelled at. As long as Spike was mad already, what was one more thing to add to the list?
 


Now she sat in her small office and tried to think of a user id for an eBay account.  She tried … Buffy ... ‘not available’ the computer informed her.
 
Spikesgirl … not available.
 
Sunnyslayer … not available.
 
Avengelyne … not available.

 

Buffy sighed … How many ‘Buffys’ and ‘Avengelynes’ and 'Spikes' were there in the world, anyway?
 
Passion4Spike … Success!
 
“Ha!” Buffy exclaimed in delight as she filled in her personal information that it wanted and hit ‘submit’ then waited on the confirmation email to show up in her inbox. It no sooner arrived that she heard the kids looking for her downstairs … apparently, they’d finished their ice cream.
 
“MOM!” Annie exclaimed when she found her in her office, out of breath from running all over the house. “What are you doing? How did you get up here!? You’re supposed to be downstairs!”
 
“I’m fine, honey … I had to get online,” Buffy explained.
 
“Dad’s soooo gonna kill me,” Annie groaned, walking up behind Buffy and looking at the computer.
 
“What are you doing?” she wondered when she saw eBay up on the screen.
 
Buffy sighed. “I’m just …” Buffy shook her head. “Just getting rid of some things I don’t need anymore,” Buffy offered.
 
Annie looked on the other side of her mother on the desk. “Your Jimmy Choos!?” she exclaimed. “But Dad bought you those for Christmas! You love them!”

 

Buffy shrugged. “Yeah, well, I love hot showers more.”
 
Annie moved over to the side of the desk where Buffy had piled up the things she was going to sell. Along with her treasured shoes (Buffy could find only one pair of Jimmy Choos in the closet … apparently, without William’s money in the coffer, Spike had given her just one pair for Christmas, not three like she remembered from the pre-wish world), there were several pieces of jewelry, including some rings and crucifixes, the little black Neiman Marcus dress that Spike bought her the same day he’d bought the shoes, a couple of other barely worn designer dresses, and her iPod.
 
Annie frowned as she picked up one of the necklaces from the pile.


 
“What’s the matter, honey?” Buffy asked, catching her expression.
 
Annie looked up at her mom and shook her head, setting the necklace back down. “It’s nothing…”
 
“That’s not a ‘nothing’ face … tell me,” Buffy prodded, picking the necklace up. It was a silver rose with her birthstone, garnet, as the body of the flower and small diamonds adorning the leaves – Buffy didn’t remember it at all.
 
Annie shrugged. “Really, it’s nothing …” she repeated and started to walk out of the office.
 
Buffy grabbed her arm and pulled her back. “Tell me,” Buffy insisted, holding the necklace up.

 

Annie rolled her eyes and sighed. “It’s just…we gave you that for your birthday, Dani, Billy, and I … a couple of years ago. You wear it when the roses aren’t blooming, in the winter … you said it makes you feel like it’s summer all year.”
 
“Oh, honey … I … I’m sorry, I didn’t know – I didn’t remember,” Buffy apologized sincerely, feeling absolutely horrible. “I need to keep it, then … so I can have summer all year.”
 
“It’s ok, Mom …” Annie assured her with a half shrug. “We probably need hot water more…”
 
Buffy smiled sadly at her daughter and pulled her into a hug. “No, we don’t.”
 
The two were interrupted when Dani and Billy came storming into the room, telling Buffy that she wasn’t supposed to be up here and yelling at Annie for not telling them she’d found her.
 
“What are ya doin’?” Billy asked when the ruckus died down.
 
“I just need to try and sell some things … I had to get on the computer,” Buffy explained as she opened the clasp on the rose necklace and slid the chain around her neck, closing the clasp behind her and letting the garnet rose rest near her heart and remind her that there were some things more important than hot showers.
 
“You’re selling your shoes!” Billy exclaimed when Buffy set her hand down on the box, indicating the things she was selling. “You love those!”
 
Buffy rolled her eyes. “I know, baby … but it’s time to let someone else love them for a while,” Buffy explained. “Why don’t you guys get your homework done and get your baths and, since I’m already up here, I can tuck you in your very own beds tonight,” she suggested.
 
“Papa’s gonna be sooooo maaaaaad!” Dani warned her.

 

“I know … it’s ok. I can handle your Papa,” Buffy assured her.
 
“He’ll blow a bloody fuse …” Billy warned, mimicking his father’s accent and Buffy tousled his curls and laughed.
 
“Trust me – I can ‘defuse’ him. Go on now! Shoooo! I’m fine and I’ve got work to do…” Buffy told them, waving her hands at them and ushering them out of the room.
 
When they’d gone, she turned back to the computer screen and sighed. “‘Welcome to eBay,’” Buffy read the message in front of her before clicking on ‘Get started selling’ and focusing her attention on what needed to be done.
 
Buffy could hear the kids talking down the hall, Annie helping the other two with their homework, and then footsteps back and forth to the bathroom and up and down the stairs … as long as no one was screaming her name, she didn’t come out to check on them. By the time the kid’s bedtime rolled around, she’d managed to get a few things listed on eBay, after mastering the digital camera, which she hadn’t thought about when she started this project – was nothing ever simple?
 
Buffy was just about to get up and go tuck the kids in when she heard them come into the office behind her. “You know, it’s not a good idea to sneak up behind a pregnant woman …” Buffy warned as she turned around to face them, thinking they were trying to scare her.
 
Buffy furrowed her brow when she saw them, all in their PJ’s but all with things in their hands … “What’s going on?” she questioned, looking from one to the other of her children.
 
Annie cleared her throat and stepped forward first. “Well … we, ummm … thought that maybe someone else would like to love some of our things for a while, too…” she explained as she placed a Millennium Holiday Barbie down on the desk next to Buffy, still in the box and in pristine condition.

 

Dani came up behind her sister and placed an autographed David Beckham, ManU trading card down next to the Barbie ...

 


And Billy put a box down on the floor next to his mother that had his Stormtrooper costume from last Halloween in it, along with his lightsaber that Spike had just given him.
 


 
“Oh … you guys … no,” Buffy began, looking at their treasures. “These are yours … Billy, your dad bought that lightsaber for you because of how brave you were and I know you love Stormtroopers! Annie, we bought that for you on your very first Christmas, you’ve had it nearly your whole life; I know how much you love it. Dani … wow – David Beckham? Did you meet David Beckham?”

Dani nodded deliberately. “Papa took me to a Galaxy game and we waited in the rain for him to come out afterwards…” Dani shrugged. “He was nice to me…even though Papa said he was a ‘bloody sell out.’”
 
“Sorry I missed that…” Buffy muttered.
 
“We want to help too…” Annie explained with a shrug. “We like hot baths…”



 
Buffy sighed and shook her head, looking at the earnest faces of her children and then at their donations. “Ok … I’ll tell you what … let’s find some things that aren’t quite so … special, ok? I’m sure we can find things that other people will love that maybe you guys don’t love quite so much. Some things just aren’t worth trading a hot bath for…”
 
**~**
 
Buffy jumped when she heard Spike bellowing for her from downstairs. She’d gotten so engrossed in listing things for sale on eBay that she’d lost track of the time. She’d intended on being back downstairs before he got home … shit. This was going to make the ‘defusing’ a tad trickier.
 
Buffy stood up and started for the office door when Spike appeared in it, looking worried and frightened. “What the bloody hell, Slayer!?” he exclaimed.

 

“I’m sorry … I just had to … uhhh …get on the computer a minute,” Buffy apologized; at least he was talking to her now – that was an improvement. Buffy stepped forward, hoping to get a hug and subtly usher him out of the office … it was a 'two birds, one stone' move.
 
“You losing your memory now? You aren’t supposed to be climbin’ bloody stairs!” he reminded her. “And since I don’t see any wings sprouting outta your back … I’m guessin’ you didn’t just fly up here! What the hell are you doing that’s so bloody important?” Spike wondered, his worry turning into anger at her for even being up here.
 
“Just …” Buffy began as Spike stepped past her, ducking the 'stone' and bypassing any chance at a hug. “… trying to…” she continued as she turned when he walked by.

He looked at the computer screen, then at the pile of things stacked next to it and the dresses hanging from the curtain rods. “You’re selling our stuff on eBay now?” he questioned, putting two and two together quickly as he began rummaging through the things on and near the desk that she had listed for sale. “Junior’s Stormtropper uniform!?” he exclaimed, picking the helmet up from the box on the floor.
 
“It’s too small for him to wear now … he volunteered it,” Buffy defended.
 
“Your jewelry!?” Spike moved on, looking at the jewelry on the desk. After the conversation with Annie about the necklace, Buffy had sorted through the jewelry and only picked things that she could remember and that didn’t have any special significance, things she'd bought for herself.
 
“I don’t need all that jewelry … I mostly just wear the things you or the kids gave me,” Buffy defended. “Spike, I’m just trying…” Buffy began to explain again when Spike found her Jimmy Choos.
 
“Your SHOES!?” he asked incredulously, picking them up and turning to face her. “I gave you these for Christmas! Or don’t you remember that, either?”

 

“Spike, I know … believe me, I remember, but …” Buffy began again.
 
“I didn’t give you those for you to turn around and fucking sell, Slayer! Or did that day mean so little to you?” Spike accused.
 
“Spike! If you’d shut the fuck up for a minute, I’d explain!” Buffy yelled back at him, taking the shoe box from his hand and setting it back down.

 

“Fine … this I gotta hear …” Spike agreed, folding his arms across his chest angrily.
 
“That day meant …” Buffy began tersely as tears welled in her eyes. She took a deep breath to calm down and blinked the tears back before starting again in a calmer voice. “That day meant more to me than I could ever tell you, Spike; I’ll always cherish the memory of spending that day with you and I love those shoes … but things are different now. We need the money and those shoes are sitting in my closet, getting worn once or twice a year … and they could be putting food on our table … a roof over our heads,” Buffy asserted.
 
“Right. Here we go again … ‘cos ole Spike ain’t good enough to put food on the table or a roof over your pretty head …” Spike summarized. “I’m working my fucking ass off to keep this piece of shit house from falling down around our ears, pay the bills, keep the soddin’ lights on … but that ain’t enough, is it? Ole Spike just ain’t cutting it!”
 
“Spike! That’s totally not…”

 

“Fine! Bloody fine, Slayer … why don’t ya sell the whole bloody lot?!” Spike sneered at her, waving a hand out dramatically. “‘Ere … sell my fucking shoes too … and my duster,” he began, toeing his boots off and dropping his beloved coat off his shoulders and tossing it at her angrily. “Why don’t ya sell that shit hanging around your neck?! And them baubles on your fingers! How ‘bout all them frilly dresses the little bit got at the shower!? All that could pay plenty a’ bills, I’d wager! Don’t none of it mean nothin’ anyway…”
 
“God damn it, Spike!” Buffy retaliated, tossing his duster to the side and moving closer to him. “I’m just trying to help! We’ve got $26.71 in the checking account … there’s just too much month at the end of the money! All I’m doing is trying to pull my weight … or … some of my weight, ‘cos I don’t think Bill Gates could pull my actual weight right now...
 
“Why did I know you’d take this the wrong way, just like the food stamps!? You’ll take help from me in a fight, but not with this?! You stood there and accused the Council of being chauvinistic and treating Slayers like idiots, but here you are, doing the same fucking thing!” Buffy accused. “You’re a real piece of work!” she informed him, poking a finger against his chest.
 
I’m a piece of work!?” Spike repeated sarcastically, slapping her hand away and settling his hands on his hips. “You’re the piece a’ work, Slayer! Ya know, it’d be a mite easier to just sell the bits, since nothing seems to mean a bloody thing to ya anyway! That way you wouldn’t ‘ave to worry about all that pesky food and a soddin’ roof!”

 

“What the fuck is wrong with you, Spike!?” Buffy screamed at him, her frustration overflowing. “I don’t know what I did wrong! Oh … what? Did I threaten your manhood!? Wound your pride? Is that it? Well, fuck that! You keep saying you won’t let me walk alone … it’s time you started letting me walk, Spike!”
 
“I ain’t stopping you! Walk wherever the fuck you want to, Slayer! Free bloody country … walk to soddin’ Timbuktu if ya want! Go on … off with ya, then!” Spike countered, waving his hand at the door.
 
“Oh … very mature. If you just stop and think a fucking minute, you’ll see that you’ve been stopping me from the moment Angel took his money back. Pushing me back behind you … not letting me help … not letting me walk with you!” Buffy accused. “I love you, you God damn stubborn son-of-a-bitch, and all I want to do is help and all I get is yelled at for it! This house, this family … it’s not just yours, it’s mine too and it’s time you stopped walking alone, Spike!”

 

Spike refolded his arms over his chest and pursed his lips together angrily. She’d shoved a stake into a huge festering wound … his pride, his self-worth and, yeah, his manhood. Even nancy boy William had been able to support his family … of course, it helped that he had inherited quite a bit from his mother when she passed … but still, he had a respectable job with a decent wage and he most assuredly didn’t take any handouts. Spike should be able to take care of his family, too. He was just as smart as William, plus stronger, older, more experienced with the world – if just one of the things he was working on would break open, he was sure he would be able to make enough to get them out of this pit of despair and debt. But so far, none of the feelers he’d put out had come back to him. He didn’t want to tell Buffy about them, not just because he didn’t want to get her hopes up, but also they weren’t all … well, let’s just say, Buffy may not approve of all of his ideas, but Spike wasn’t ruling much out. If it didn’t hurt other people, wasn’t technically illegal, and it had the potential to make a lot of money fast, then it was fair game.
 
“Spike?” Buffy questioned when he didn’t say anything for a few moments, moving up to him and laying her hands on his upper arms. “Spike … I love you. Please … please, please, please just let me help. Don’t shut me out. Please let’s not fight anymore…”
 
Spike sighed heavily and closed his eyes before nodding slightly, even as he felt his pride wither a bit more. “I love you, Buffy… I didn’t mean t’ keep you down, just … just wanted to …” Spike sighed again and finally opened his eyes.
 
“Spike … I know what you’re trying to do … it’s … it’s noble, it’s chivalrous … but it just won’t work in this world. The world isn’t the same as it was in 1890 … it’s not a reflection on you. I don’t know how to get that through your thick skull…” Buffy assured him again.
 
“We’ll make it, Spike … but we’re gonna have to do it together,” Buffy offered, leaning against him.
 
Spike unfolded his arms and wrapped them around her, pulling her into his embrace. “I love you, Buffy. I just wanted to … be the man you deserve. I wasn’t mad at you … just at m’self. I want to give you and the bits the whole world … at the rate I’m goin’ the only thing I’ll be able to give ya is lessons in dumpster divin’ … you deserve better than me.”
 
Buffy shook her head against his chest as she wrapped her arms around his waist. “I couldn’t find anyone better than you, Spike. Everything will be ok … we’ll figure it out, together, okay?”

 

Spike sighed and nodded tiredly and the pride he’d lost for himself started to manifest and grow for his family. “Junior really volunteered his Stormtrooper outfit to sell?” he asked, looking over at the stuff next to the computer.
 
Buffy smiled and nodded. “Yeah … they all contributed something – I didn’t ask them, they did all on their own. They’re good kids, Spike … you’re not alone, we’re all with you. Just let us help …”
 
Spike smiled sadly and nodded. “C’mon, Slayer … let’s get some kip.  You haven’t sold our bed, yet … I hope.”

 

Buffy smiled softly and shook her head. “No … the bed’s safe, I couldn’t figure out how to get it in a flat rate box…”
 
 **~**

{{Click here to hear “Too Much Month at the End of the Money” by Billy Hill on YouTube  }}

I paid the bank note, the car note, an' yes, I paid the 'phone bill too.
An' then I turned around an' I found that the house note's due.
Well, I'd love to take you out like I said I would, honey,
But there's too much month at the end of the money.

Well, I got a little favor I wanna ask of you, my love,
Why don't you find that hole in my pocket an' sew it up?
Yeah, I thought I'd saved some but, you know, it's funny:
There's too much month at the end of the money.

All gone, oh, heaven only knows.
All gone, oh, where on earth it goes,
But it sure goes.
Well, sometimes I think it blows away.

I went down to the bank this mornin', 'bout half past nine.
Well, I was lookin' for a little somethin' in the credit line.
But the man said: "Look, what ya got here, sonny:
"There's too much month at the end of the money."

I'd love to take you out like I said I would, honey,
But there's too much month at the end of the money.
Too much month at the end of the money.
End Notes:
TBC ... So, just what does Spike have in mind to make big money fast ...? Knowing him it's probably not the greatest idea ever. We'll find out later, but next it's time for a new arrival! I haven't forgotten Bess, either ... we will check on her soon, too.
Angel's Lullaby by Passion4Spike
Author's Notes:
It’s the day … one short of the month and the year … will the prophecy come to pass or was Travers wrong?
**
 
Music Referenced:
Angel’s Lullaby, Reba McIntyre http://youtu.be/CslOzGBt4ng
 **
ScreenCaps courtesy of ScreenCap Paradise: http://www.screencap-paradise.com/?cat=3
**
Thanks to 'epd4' for betaing this chapter and Paganbaby for her invaluable input and ideas!
(Two weeks later), Saturday, October 9th, 2010, 11:00pm:

 

Despite still being up against it financially, the things Buffy had managed to sell on eBay did help a bit and that, along with the food stamps and the money that Spike brought home from his job at The Fish Bowl and his gambling winnings, was keeping them halfway afloat. Buffy had also made a little from selling the Henbane that she'd grown in the garden to Anya - apparently bunnies had no need for attracting 'love and lust' and heat didn't affect it, so a little something had come out of all that work, at least. Spike had come to terms with the fact that he couldn't do it all alone and the quarreling over the finances had settled down to an intermittent simmer from the rolling boil it had been before and they tried to be more careful about having their discussions about the bills in private, away from the kids. Kids needed to be kids, they didn't need to be worrying about money or listening to their parents try to figure out which was more important, electricity or water.





All that, however, was put aside today, because today was the day… at least according to the ‘insane Cambridge man’ and the prophecy he quoted; 266 days since that night William and Buffy spent in the Common. Spike took the night off and Annie, Dani, and Billy were spending the weekend at the Harris’. Buffy felt fine all day … although the baby had definitely dropped, she hadn’t experienced any pain, her water hadn’t broken, and she’d felt no contractions at all.



At about eleven, she felt pretty confident that the baby wasn’t coming today, after all, and she and Spike turned in early for a change… truth be told, they were both relieved that Travers was wrong about the prophecy.







**~**

 

In her dream, Buffy walked along the shoreline at the beach. Warm ripples of clear water lapped at the white sand and bubbled like champagne against the shore as the sun shone high and warm in the sky. She looked around for Spike, turning to look behind her, but he wasn’t there. When she turned back around to start walking again, a young girl of perhaps four, with long red hair, green eyes, and a smooth, creamy complexion was playing on the beach in front of her. She seemed familiar to Buffy, but she couldn’t recall meeting her before.



 



“Hi,” Buffy called to the girl. “I’m Buffy, what’s your name?”

 

The girl looked up and smiled warmly at Buffy, then went back to playing in the damp sand at their feet.

 

Buffy knelt down next to her. “Whatcha’ doin?” she asked the girl.

 

“Waiting…”

 

“Who are you waiting for?” Buffy wondered, looking around.

 

“You.”

 

“Me?” Buffy questioned. “Do you know me?”

 

“Uh-huh … You bring the Tetrad … you must stand alone,” the girl replied.

 

“Stand alone against who?” Buffy questioned.

 

“The End of Days…”

 

“When is the end of days?” Buffy asked.

 

The redhead shrugged. “When the pendulum swings too high into the light, the End of Days will be near. Only you can stop what we start … she who stands alone.”

 

“We? Who’s we? What do you start?” Buffy wondered.

 

“The Tetrad. We open the gates to hell, but only you can close them.”

 

“Who’s the Tetrad? Why would you open them?” Buffy questioned.

 

“To balance the scales…”



 



“That’s a little drastic…” Buffy observed, but the child just shrugged and went back to making designs with her fingers in the wet sand.

 

“Are you … are you the prophecy?” Buffy asked. “Are you my daughter?”

 

The girl looked up and nodded solemnly.

 

“What’s your name?”

 

The girl stood up and brushed the damp sand from her fingers and Buffy looked down at what she’d been drawing in the sand. It was a large "X" with different symbols adorning each point: a key, an eye, a scythe, and a heart.

 

“It will be shown to you when it’s time … look under the crescent moon,” the girl advised her. “I haveta go … they’re here for me now…” she told Buffy as she started walking into the water.

 

“Who?” Buffy asked, standing up and pulling her eyes away from the symbol on the sand.

 

“The Tetrad…”

 

Buffy looked out into the waves and Annie, Dani, and Billy were playing on a large book that was out in the water, using it like a floating swim platform, diving off it and swimming around and climbing back on.



 



Buffy only caught a glimpse of the gold leaf on the spine as the redhead swam out to meet her siblings. She couldn’t make out the first part, the last was “…de Profundis.” As Buffy moved forward to try and see the rest of the title, all four of the children jumped off the platform at once and a huge wave of warm water swept over Buffy, knocking her onto her back on the sandy beach.

 

Buffy woke up choking on the dream water that had gone done her windpipe.

 

“Buffy …” Spike called tiredly. “What is it, luv?”

 

“My water broke…” she informed him, looking at the clock: 11:45pm. “Shit …we haveta go, now!”

 

Spike jumped up and pulled on his jeans and Buffy pulled a comfortable, stretchy, lycra-cotton maternity dress she’d been wearing while on ‘house-arrest’ over her head and started for the garage. “Now, Spike! This baby’s coming now!” she yelled at him when he sat back down to pull his boots on.

 

“Bloody hell!” he exclaimed, grabbing his keys, but leaving his boots and shirt and running past her to get the door and help her into the passenger’s side of the DeSoto.

 

“Can’t ya hold it!?” he asked as he roared Vader out of the driveway and towards the hospital while Buffy called Dr. Benson’s emergency number on her cell phone.



 



“I can’t even hold my own pee, Spike – I pee every time I sneeze! How am I supposed to hold a baby!?” Buffy pointed out in a panic as she waited for someone to answer the phone.

 

“Bloody hell … whatever you do, don’t sneeze!” Spike instructed her as he drove faster, his eyes wide with concern ... well, concern might be putting it mildly.

 

“Thank you, Dr. Spike…” Buffy murmured with an eye roll before leaving a message with the doctor’s answering service.

 

“Oh, God!” Buffy exclaimed, dropping the phone on the seat and clutching her stomach. “It’s coming, Spike … it’s not gonna wait!”

 

“Every woman in this family would be late for their own funeral, now this one wants to be in a bloody rush?! She’ll wait! Don’t push! Just hold on, suck in! … Suck her back in!” he admonished her as his panic began to rise higher.



 



“I can’t suck it in, Spike! What do you think I’ve got down there, a vacuum cleaner?” Buffy shot back. “I’m not pushing! She’s fucking pushing! OH FUCK!” Buffy screamed when another strong contraction hit her and she felt the baby press against her cervix. “Stop the car! Spike, stop! You have to help me!”

 

“No, Buffy, it’s only a few minutes…”



 



“NO! NOW! STOP THIS FUCKING CAR NOW!” Buffy demanded, leaving no room for argument from her husband.

 

Spike pulled into the nearest parking lot and brought the car to a screeching halt, then jumped out and ran over to her side of the car to help her. “What do I do?” Spike questioned, his eyes wide with worry and fear.

 

“Help me outta here …” Buffy looked around for somewhere better than the cramped confines of the car as she realized where they were. Of course! Where else would the universe send her to have a prophetic baby? Spike had pulled into the parking lot at Restfield Cemetery. “There,” she decided, pointing to a sarcophagus just inside the gate.

 

Spike swept her up into his arms, in too much of a panic to even question her anymore, and rushed over to where she’d indicated. He sat her down just as another contraction hit and Buffy screamed out as the baby pressed harder against her cervix, which had dilated to allow it to pass.



 



“God … Buffy … oh, God… God, God…” Spike muttered, praying absently as he started pacing frantically back and forth in front of her, running a hand through his hair. “Think, you nit!” Spike admonished himself, pounding a palm against his forehead.

 

“Boiling water. We need to boil some water, and towels - we need towels! That's what they always say on the telly. Water, newspapers, towels, scissors, a clip of some sort..." he said, counting off on his fingers as he tried to think of what they did on TV shows.

 

“NO! 9-1-1! Need to call …” Spike suddenly realized, hunting in his pockets for his phone … he didn’t have it. He started to head back to the car to get Buffy’s.

 

“Don’t you dare leave me!” Buffy screamed at him as she positioned herself nearer the edge of the stone top of the tomb.

 

“Right! Not leaving!” Spike agreed, turning back around towards her. “Gotta get the phone!” his brain reminded him and he turned back around again.

 

“God damn it, Spike! Get your ass over here!”

 

“Right!” he agreed again, spinning back around like a puppet being jerked on a string.

 

“Don’t make me slap you!” Buffy warned, grabbing him by the shoulders and holding him still. “Calm the fuck down!”

 

“Slap?? No, you slap the baby’s bum … yeah … now I remember, I saw that on Marcus Welby, MD once … or maybe it was Dr. Kildare … or Dr. Quinn…,” Spike blabbered his mind racing a thousand miles an hour.



 



“Spike … calm down,” Buffy admonished him again, shaking him slightly and making him focus on her. “Breathe … slow … c’mon … in and out … in and out….” she instructed him, breathing with him slowly in and out.

 

Spike nodded and breathed with her and tried to calm down, his eyes still wild with adrenaline. “Ok, you have to get the baby when it comes out, Spike … I’m gonna push on the next contraction and it’s probably gonna come out,” Buffy informed him.

 

“No … I … I can’t … I’m not … not a bloody doctor! Vampire, remember?! Evil! GRRR-ARGH!” Spike reminded her, holding his hands up like claws and baring his teeth. “I eat babies… I can’t do this!”

 

“Yes, Spike, you can! You were man enough to put it in there, you can be man enough to catch it when it comes out,” she assured him.

 

“B-but…”

 

“No buts! Kneel down …” Buffy instructed him, pushing him down in front of her. Buffy propped her feet on his shoulders and scooted all the way to the edge of the ‘delivery table’. “Oh … shiiit … it’s coming, Spike … get ready!”

 

“No! No … not ready! … Stop it, Buffy! Make it stop!” Spike yelled at her in a panic as if perhaps he thought his wife was about to produce a bear rather than a baby. When the next contraction hit her, she pushed with all her strength, sending an ear piercing scream out over the cemetery as the baby’s head pushed between her pelvic bones, separating them, and moved into the birth canal.



 



“Bloody hell! I can see it! I can see it!” Spike exclaimed, looking up at her, his eyes wide with absolute hysterical terror. “I don’t wanna see it!”

 

“One more … Spike… one more push … and she’s … gonna be out …” Buffy gasped out, trying to get her breath back. “Are you ready?”

 

“No! No … not bloody ready!” Spike exclaimed, wishing with every fiber of his being that William had kept it in his pants that night in the Common. Goddamn ponce had to pick that bloody night to get randy, and with a soddin' angel no less!

 

“Good … she’s coming …” Buffy informed him, when she felt the next contraction starting.

 

“No! I bloody well said ‘NO’!”



 



“Too bad!” Buffy screamed as she began pushing with the contraction. With one last ear piercing scream, Buffy pushed and the baby’s head crowned, then continued out. Buffy pushed through the pain, she could feel her flesh tearing as the baby’s head emerged, but she couldn’t stop now … it needed to be out.

 

Through the fog of pain, Buffy could hear her phone ringing from the seat of the car – probably Dr. Benson calling her back, wondering where they were … well, at least she’d save that doctor and delivery room fee. Buffy took a deep breath and pushed down one last time and the baby’s shoulders emerged, then the rest slipped out relatively easily, dropping into Spike’s waiting hands.

 

“Clear … clear the goo … clear the airway…” Buffy gasped out, her chest heaving with labored breaths as sweat dripped from her face, matted her hair to her head and ran down her body, soaking her dress.

 

Spike used his fingers and the hem of Buffy’s dress to wipe the amniotic fluid away from the baby’s face and out of its nose and mouth. “She’s not breathin’!!!” Spike informed her as he cleaned the baby’s airway frantically with his fingers. “We don't have one of those things that suck the goo! We need a sucky thing! Why don’t they ever say that on the soddin’ telly?!” Spike jabbered frantically, close to a complete panic-attack meltdown.

 

“Buffy! What do I do?! She’s not breathin’!!” he repeated, standing up and bringing the baby girl up to his wife. Buffy took the baby in her arms and put her ear next to the child’s mouth and nose … Spike was right, she wasn’t breathing.

 

“No …no, no, no … You can’t die…” Buffy muttered determinedly. Buffy pressed her lips over the baby’s mouth and nose and inhaled sharply, pulling out a wad of something gooey and gross, which Buffy tried not to dwell on or think about, from the baby’s throat. Buffy spit it out and then puffed a light breath of air into the baby’s lungs … then another … and another, all the while rubbing the baby’s chest. Finally, after what seemed forever, but was certainly only a few seconds, the baby took a breath … and another and another and then it was crying.

 

The sound of their baby’s cries sounded like angels singing from on high to the frantic parents. Tears of relief stung Buffy’s eyes as she looked up from their new baby girl and met Spike’s eyes, which were also glistening in the low light. “We did it… we did it, Spike,” she murmured as he wrapped his arms around her and their newest little bit.

 

You did it, pet … you,” he whispered to her as his tears of joy and relief spilled over and stained his cheeks.

 

Buffy shook her head. “We did it … together … Remind me to never do that again, though.”

 

“Never have another bit?” Spike questioned.

 

“No … never let you help me deliver it! You’re fearless against Slayers, demons, vamps, and bill collectors, but one little baby and you crumble like an over-baked cookie!”



 



“I bloody well did not crumble! I … I … was just … uhhhh …” Spike stammered. “You won’t tell anybody, will ya?”

 

Buffy laughed and shook her head. “Your crumbling point is safe with me…”

 

After a few moments, Spike went back to the car to get the phone and call 9-1-1 to get an ambulance to take Buffy and the baby the rest of the way to the hospital. Buffy held their little girl and looked up in the sky for the crescent moon, but the sky was covered in a thin layer of clouds. Buffy’s brow furrowed as she searched the sky for the light from the moon, but she couldn’t even see that through the clouds.

 

“What am I supposed to call you? ‘Our Little Prophecy’ is kinda pretentious,” she murmured to the baby as she waited for Spike to come back. Buffy kept looking for the moon, but it never emerged. The paramedics arrived and clamped the umbilical cord and checked mother and daughter before loading them both on the gurney and heading back to the ambulance. When they turned Buffy around to wheel her out to the parking lot, Buffy’s eyes were drawn up to the top of the tomb behind the now bloody sarcophagus she’d been sitting on. At the very top, the tomb had a crescent moon standing watch above it…



 



Buffy looked down below the decoration at the inscription. “MacKenzie,” it read. Then underneath that name it said “Verity ~ Perturbatio ~ Pondera ~ Vita”.

 

“Stop a minute!” Buffy exclaimed, reaching a hand out to the paramedics and they stopped. “Spike!” she called.

 

“Right here, pet…” he said from behind her, stepping up next to her.

 

“What does that mean?” she asked, pointing to the tomb.

 

“Verity, Perturbatio, Pondera, Vita …” he read. “Truth, Passion, Balance, Life,” he translated, looking back at her. “Why?”

 

Buffy gave him a smile and shook her head. “Just something a little birdie told me ...”



 



“Ahhhh … been talking to the birdies again, ‘ave we?” Spike teased. “Ya know, one day that’s gonna get you hauled off to the loony bin…”

 

Buffy laughed. “How could I tell the difference?”

 

**~**

 

(The next morning), Sunday, October 10th, 2010, 10:00am:

 

“MacKenzie Verity Weckerly,” Buffy informed the nurse who was filling out the birth certificate.

 

“Date and time of birth?” she asked after filling in the name.

 

“Ummm …” Buffy began, reaching for her phone. It had been ringing just as MacKenzie emerged. “11:59pm, October 9th, 2010,” Buffy provided, looking at the missed call’s time. “On the day one short of the month and the year …”

 

“Huh?” the nurse questioned as she wrote down the date and time on the form.

 

“Nothing …” Buffy murmured with a sigh.

 

When the nurse left, her friends snuck in one and two at a time, until the room was full.

 

“Where’d she get that red hair, B!? Spike have some rust in the ole pipes?” Faith teased.

 

Buffy laughed and squeezed Spike’s hand, looking up and meeting his eyes. “That’s m’ Avengelyne,” Spike offered as explanation for the unexplainable red hair of their littlest bit. “Reckon this one’s gonna be even more temperamental than her mum with those wild angel genes…”



 



“Actually, red hair is a gene mutation,” Anya provided brightly. “You have a mutant for a baby. Congratulations.”

 

“Thank you, Anya … that’s what every mother wants to hear,” Buffy replied with a fake smile.

 

“Oh – there’s nothing wrong with mutants! None of us would be here if it weren’t for genes mutating … in some cultures, red hair is revered and it’s thought that people with it are decedents of royalty. Of course, in others it’s looked upon as a sign that the person has a fiery temper, beastly sexual desire, and is a moral degenerate … some think it means the person is a witch or vampire even,” Anya continued to educate them.

 

Buffy shook her head. “Well … let’s just go with the theory that she’s descended from royalty.”



 



“Oh … so Spike’s not the father?” Anya continued. “I thought you said he was… or do you actually know? Did you copulate with someone else who was descended from royalty that night? Because that could explain a lot.”

 

“OI!” Spike started to object, but Buffy put a hand out to stop him from saying something that he couldn’t take back.

 

“Anya … trust me, Spike’s the father.  Anyway, how do you know one of us isn’t descended from royalty?” Buffy argued, trying to stay calm herself … Anya was starting to get under her skin. As much as Buffy loved her, the ex-demon could push Buffy’s buttons without even trying.



 



Anya laughed at the suggestion that either Spike or Buffy was descended from royalty. “Oh, I get it … you don’t want to talk about who else you had intercourse with, I understand. You wouldn’t want to upset Spike … ‘cos he is the breadwinner and all. Very smart.”

 

Buffy opened her mouth to retaliate, but Giles stepped in first. “That’s quite an intriguing name, Buffy …” her Watcher interjected before she said something she couldn’t take back. “How did you decide upon that?”

 

Buffy let her aggravation with Anya go and turned to Giles. “It was … something I read. Verity is Latin for truth … MacKenzie … is just a name,” Buffy explained with a shrug.



 



“Indeed … well, it’s quite a prophetic name, as it turns out,” Giles informed her. “MacKenzie means ‘born of fire’ or ‘born of light’ … In the prophecy, it’s said that the seer of truth is ‘a daughter of fire, born to the fair, immortal warriors,’” Giles pointed out. “You may think the word ‘fair’ means ‘impartial’, but in this context, I believe it means ‘light’ or perhaps flaxen or blond…” Giles continued. “I’m afraid that it appears MacKenzie is the child spoken of in the prophecy, Buffy… and that is only borne out by the name you’ve inexplicably chosen for her.”

 

Buffy sighed. “Yeah, we pretty much figured that out,” she admitted. “Have you heard of something called the ‘Tetrad’?” she asked, still addressing Giles.

 

“I … uhhh … the ‘Tetrad’, you say?” Giles stammered, answering her question with a question. Since he hadn’t found anything further out about it, he’d never told her about the other prophecy that Travers had imparted to him before his final death.

 

“Yeah, apparently the PTB haven’t given up fucking with us. I think Billy, Dani, Annie, and MacKenzie make up something called the ‘Tetrad’ and they open the gates of hell to balance the scales … and only I can close them,” Buffy told Giles. “Here’s the symbol for it …” she started, grabbing a pen and a pad of paper from the bedside table and drawing for him what she’d seen in her dream.

 

Giles took it and looked at the drawing. “What do the symbols mean?” he asked her, looking up from the paper.



 



“Best I can figure it’s the Seer … MacKenzie, the Slayer … I’m assuming Dani, but maybe Bess, the Key … Annie, and … the heart is for Billy … the mortal,” Buffy explained. “And there’s a book we need to find, something about ‘de Profundis’ … what does that mean?” Buffy questioned.

 

Giles removed his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Ummm …'de Profundis’ … I believe means, ‘the Depths’,” Giles translated.

 

“As in, ‘the depths of hell’? Well, if you find a book with that in the name, you need to check it out … it has something to do with this whole prophecy thing,” Buffy informed him.

 

Giles nodded. “Certainly … I’ll keep an eye out for it in the Council’s library.”

 

Giles was just about to ask where she was getting this information when the nurse came in with MacKenzie and shooed all the visitors, which was waaay more than was allowed, out of the room.

 

**~**

 

When Buffy finished feeding the baby, Spike went and got the rest of the bits from the waiting room so they could meet their new sister … JJ of course, tagged along, too.

 

“She’s so little!” … “Her hair’s a funny color!” … “Are you sure it’s a girl?” … “How did you get her out of your tummy?” … “What’s her name?” … “Are you sure there’s not another one in there? Your tummy’s still pretty big!” … “I think the angels gave us the wrong one! That looks like Aunt Willow! Maybe we can trade her for Eddie!”

 

Buffy laughed as the kids gathered around her and fired off their questions. Spike stood in the doorway, out of the line of fire and watched and listened as she assured them there wasn’t another one in there and that the angel’s hadn’t made a mistake, and yes, they were sure it was a girl and no, they couldn’t trade her for Eddie.

 

“Your Papa got her out …” Buffy informed them with a smirk, looking at Spike. Why should she have all the fun?

 

“He did!?” was the united cry from the three younger children, as they turned and looked at Spike.

 

“Yeah, well … your mum helped, too…” Spike offered with a shrug, moving up to the bed.

 

“How did you get it out?” Dani wondered. “Did you haveta cut her tummy open like for Billy?”



 



“Naaaaa… You think your ole pop don’t know how to get a bit out? Not like these wanker doctors who can’t even tell if there’s one or two,” he sidestepped the question, ruffling Dani and Billy’s blonde hair. “I just told ‘er it was time and she just come out lickety-split … like magic, it was. Not like you lot who don’t listen to a bloody word I say…”

 

Buffy rolled her eyes … magic my aching ass!

 

“Can I hold her?” Annie asked, turning away from Spike and rolling her eyes too. Who did her dad think he was fooling?



 



“Sure, honey … come sit down,” Buffy offered sliding over in the bed and letting Annie sit next to her.

 

“She’s bigger than Dani and Billy were…” Annie observed as Buffy carefully placed the sleeping baby in Annie’s arms.

 

“And don't I know it,” Buffy agreed. “I even have the magical stitches to prove it…” she muttered under her breath.

 

And the questions continued … “When can we take her home?” … “What do we call her for short?” … “What does she like to eat?” … “What do you think she wants to be for Halloween?” … “Can she go trick-or-treating with us?” … “If she doesn’t want all her candy, I can help her with it.” … as all the kids took a turn holding their new little sister with Spike’s help. Buffy couldn’t stop her heart from soaring with love and joy as she watched her husband as he held Billy on his lap and helped their son hold the baby as the other children gathered around, firing off their questions and observations about the newest little bit.

 

Spike looked up and caught her glistening eyes. I love you he mouthed to her over Billy’s head as their son held the precious package gently in his arms, with Spike’s arms wrapped around both of them.



 



I love you too Buffy mouthed back as she swallowed the lump in her throat. Who among them would’ve predicted or even believed this was possible when William the Bloody first came to Sunnydale? William the Bloody … surrounded by his children, holding his son and the newest addition to their clan gently in his arms … it defied prediction.

 

What other surprises lie down the road? What else did the PTB have in store for them? What other things would they be unable to predict? Buffy’s lips pursed in thought; here before her was the ‘Tetrad’ … or so the girl in the dream had told her – they would open the gates of hell. Their brave little Scooby pups just looked like children to her … like sweet, kind, smart, and funny children. She prayed that they had a chance to be just that … children, for a good long while before prophecies and Hellmouths trampled on their lives. Bess had been cheated out of most of her childhood, forced to grow up quickly and painfully and long before she should’ve.  Buffy vowed to do everything in her power to make sure these children’s innocence wasn’t stolen from them. She and Spike may not be able to protect them forever, but that didn't mean they couldn’t try.

 

**~**



Note from the author:



Ok, those of you who voted (I know it was a long time ago) choose MacKenzie for our new bit's name, so now what shall we call her for short?



Leave me a review and let me know your thoughts - here are some ideas, but if you have another one, let me know!:





‘Kenzie

‘Zee

‘N-Z





**~**



{{Click here to hear “Angel’s Lullaby” by Reba McIntyre on YouTube  }}



Midnight moonlight shining through the curtain lace

Paints a perfect picture on your perfect face

One sweet angel sleeping in my arms

You are the promise I knew God would keep

You are the gift that makes my world complete



And you'll never know how much I love you

But I'll keep on telling you my whole life through

Now I believe in miracles, and you're the reason why

So dream on while I sing you my angel's lullaby

End Notes:
TBC ... still lots more to come. Be sure to let me know your thoughts on what to call the newest bit for short ... Thanks so much for reading! And extra special thanks to everyone who stops in with a review - they mean a lot!!

Also, just one last reminder: If you haven’t voted in the SunnyD Memorial Fanfic awards, voting ends on Sunday. There are lots of great stories there, take a look! http://sunnydawards.dragonydreams.com/round25/headers/R25vote.jpg
Li'l Red Riding Hood by Passion4Spike
Author's Notes:
Halloween thrills and chills…
**
Music Referenced:
Li’l Red Riding Hood, Sam the Sham & the Pharaohs http://youtu.be/8BageeFRG8U
 **
ScreenCaps courtesy of ScreenCap Paradise: http://www.screencap-paradise.com/?cat=3
**
Thanks to 'epd4' for betaing this chapter and Paganbaby for her invaluable input and ideas!
(Three weeks later), Halloween, Sunday, October 31st, 2010, 9:00pm:
 
The petite young blonde walked along the foggy path that was a short-cut through the woods which led back to town. She pulled her red hood and cape tighter around her body against the soft rain that had started to fall and tried to keep her footing in the dark as she hurried back to her grandmother’s house.  Lightning flashed across the sky and thunder boomed as she made her way along the slippery, muddy trail, making her quicken her pace. When she was a little girl, her mom had always told her ‘there was nothing there in the dark that wasn’t there in the light’ … but she couldn’t help but feel like there was someone, or something there that she couldn’t see … following her … stalking her. She looked back often, scanning the dark and foggy expanse of forest nervously and stepped up her pace even more, but she couldn’t see anything at all as the thick clouds covered the moon and, when the lightning flashed, every tree, every bush, and rock along the trail looked like a vicious, hungry monster just waiting for an opportunity to pounce on her.
 
She cried out when she tripped over a stone that protruded from the side of the well-worn path, catching herself with her hands to keep from tumbling all the way down onto the ground. She could’ve sworn she heard something rustle in the dead leaves just to the side of the trail when she stumbled and she turned around and tried to see what it was… perhaps one of her friends was pulling a Halloween prank on her. Yes, that must be it. There’s nothing to worry about; there’s nothing there in the dark that’s not there in the light.

 

“Hello?” she called tentatively, straining her eyes, searching the trees and the trail behind her but seeing nothing but blackness.
 
“Hello, cutie…” a deep rumbling voice came from the direction she’d been going and she squealed in surprised fright and swung back around quickly.
 
“Who … who are you?” she asked as her adrenaline level soared, her heart pounded and raced in her chest, and her breathing became even more shallow and rapid. It wasn’t one of her friends …
 
“You can call me Big Bad. Out for a evenin’ stroll, are ya?” the man asked in a low drawl, his demeanor calm … dead calm, as he took a slow, predatory step towards her. His voice was … unsettling. There was something, a roughness, to it, a growly timbre that made him sound something other than human... almost like an animal who'd learned to speak. The darkness of the night kept his face shrouded … but something seemed … wrong. The girl squinted her eyes, trying to make out his features, willing a shaft of moonlight or a lightning bolt to break through the clouds, through the dense canopy of the ageless trees above them and cut a swath through the foggy blackness, but her prayers were unanswered. She could only get an impression of him … and that impression was frightening.
 
“No … I … I’m just heading home … to my grandmother’s. I’m late…” the young woman stammered, backing up as the man stepped forward.

 

“Are ya now? And just where would Li’l Red Riding Hood’s grandmother live? Perhaps I could ... escort you. Lots of nasties out on All Hallow’s Eve,” the man offered. It was clear he was trying to sound amiable … friendly, but Li’l Red felt anything but befriended. Her heart continued to race in her chest, she felt like she could barely breathe, and a bead of nervous perspiration joined the misting rain and ran down her temple.
 
The girl gulped back the knot of fear in her throat. “No … uhhh, thank you, Mr. Bad. S-she just lives a little ways … across from Restfield cemetery. I really need to go…” Li’l Red explained as she tried to find a way to get around the man, if that's what he was, who was now blocking the narrow trail.
 
“Turns out, I’m headin’ that way m’self… we could go together,” Big Bad suggested again, still stalking slowly forward as Li’l Red backed up. “The woods are a scary place to be all alone in the dark…never know what might jump out at you.”
 
When Red got to the rock that she’d tripped over, she carefully stepped over it and continued to back up … but Big Bad didn’t notice the stone in the dark, his eyes were glued on the lovely young thing in front of him that smelled of honey and vanilla and fright – three of his favorite scents. After she passed the rock, Red backed up faster, making Big Bad move forward faster. In his haste, the toe of his boot caught on the rock and he lost his balance and tumbled forward. Red took the opportunity to sprint past him, running as fast as her legs would carry her along the slippery, dark trail towards her grandmother’s house.
 
She could hear the man laughing as she ran … a deep, rumbling laugh that was nearly as frightening as the look he’d had in his unnaturally yellow eyes which she’d glimpsed as she bolted past him … a look of primal hunger.


 
Red ran all the way through the woods towards the cemetery … stumbling and sliding on the narrow, muddy trail. Even when she fell she kept moving forward, catching herself on her hands and clambering on fingertips and toes until she could right herself and begin running again. She never stopped or slowed or even glanced back, even as briars and branches reached out, clutching and tugging at her cloak and dress and scratching her arms and face as if the trees themselves were possessed by evil. She thought she could feel the man’s breath on her neck … right behind her, about to catch her at any moment, and she ran faster even as the rain began falling harder. The feeling of being chased stayed with her as she crossed the cemetery, dodging headstones and stone angels, threw open the iron gate on the fence that surrounded her Grandmother’s home, and ran up the steps of the dilapidated house.  

  

Surely the man couldn’t have followed her all that way, certainly she would’ve heard his heavy boots on the stairs if he really was right there; that was just her imagination getting the better of her. Red stopped on the front porch and bravely spun around to look behind her as she tried to catch her breath; the rain had started falling even harder now and she strained to see the cemetery across the street through the downpour. Lightning lit up the sky, flashing several times as she searched for the platinum hair and dark outline of the man’s long duster, but she didn’t see anyone or anything. She took a deep breath and tried to calm down … everything was alright now, she was safe at home.

Just as she turned to open the door of the house, there was a bright flash of light and a loud explosion as a lightning bolt hit the transformer on the power line right in front of the house and the whole block went completely dark. L’il Red screeched in fright, jumping nearly out of her skin as she quickly swung the old door open and scrambled inside. She still hadn’t gotten used to the eerie squeak all the doors in her grandmother’s house made. She was halfway convinced the house was haunted, but she’d rather face the ghosts inside than the scary things outside in the murky night, regardless of what her mother had told her about the dark. She didn’t know if she’d ever get used to life in this strange town … she was much more comfortable in L.A., but her grandmother was old and infirm and Red was her only living relative … it was up to her to try and make her final months as comfortable as possible.
 
She quickly closed the front door and locked it, then leaned her back against the door and closed her eyes, gulping the musty air mixed with fear as she tried to calm down.
 
“Grandmother! I’m home!” Li’l Red called at last.  Her heartbeat was finally returning to some semblance of normalcy and she took a deep breath to try and calm herself further.
 
“Do come up, dear!” she heard her grandmother call from upstairs in a squeaky, rather raspy voice.
 
Red went into the kitchen and lit a candle then took off her wet cloak and hung it on a hook inside the bathroom door so it could drip dry. She dried her long, blonde hair and face with a towel and moaned when she realized she’d gotten mud on her new outfit. She tried to wash it off, but only succeeded in smearing it further, so she gave up and headed up the rickety stairs to her grandmother’s room to say goodnight.
 
At the top of the stairs, she knocked on her grandmother’s door.
 
“Come in, dear,” her grandmother called, her voice hoarse and grainy. She'd been quite ill and it had taken it's toll on the elderly woman. Red rarely went out; this night was one of the few that she'd given herself 'off' since coming to Sunnydale.
 
Red opened the door and started towards her grandmother, who was laying in the bed, covered from chin to toe with a quilt, a sleeping bonnet on her head. “I’m sorry I’m so late, Grandmother,” Li’l Red apologized as she stepped nearer, setting the candle on the bedside table. “My … you don’t look well at all … all the color’s gone from your cheeks,” the girl observed worriedly. “Are you feeling alright?”
 
L’il Red’s grandmother began coughing violently and the girl plucked some tissues from the box and handed to her. “You look quite odd, Grandmother … your eyes … they’re so … big and … yellow,” L’il Red observed with a furrowed brow.
 
“Better to see you with, my dear,” Grandmother explained as the coughing subsided.
 
“And your nose … it’s larger and … oddly ridged,” Li’l Red continued, furrowing her brow and tilting her head in confusion.
 
“Better to smell you with, my dear,” Grandmother offered, her voice raspy and low.


 
“But, Grandmother! Your teeth! What large teeth you have!” Li’l Red exclaimed in fright as she started to back up towards the door.
 
“Better to eat you with, my dear,” Grandmother informed her as she threw off her covers and sprang at Red, catching her from behind as the young woman started to run out of the bedroom, and tossing her effortlessly back onto the bed.

 

Li’l Red knew immediately who it was even before she pulled the sleeping bonnet from his head, the stranger from the woods … Big Bad.
 
“Sorry, Red … didn’t care for Granny, bit gristly …. Got stuck in m’ teeth, she did…” Big Bad informed her as he pinned her hands down with an iron grip and straddled her hips with his. “You’re a mite more tender, I’d wager …”
 
“I’ll scream!” Red threatened, struggling under him as her heart again thudded against her chest, threatening to explode with terror.
 
“Bonus…” Big Bad smirked as he dropped his mouth to hers and captured her lips in a violent kiss.
 
The Big Bad Wolf’s tongue delved between Li’l Red Riding Hood’s soft lips, his sharp fangs only a hair’s breadth away from her tender flesh. A deep, rumbling growl escaped Spi… uhhhh … Mr. Bad’s throat as his tongue fought for control of the kiss with his willing captive.
 
When Buffy put on that Red Riding Hood costume to take the kids trick-or-treating earlier, there was no doubt in his mind how this night would end. After Buffy had taken JJ, Annie, Dani, and Billy trick-or-treating, she dropped them off with Anya and Xander at the Magic Box. Xander had set up a ‘haunted house’ for them at the Harris homestead complete with ‘worms in mud’ to eat and some of their favorite Halloween movies from the Video Hut … it would be a full night of thrills and chills and sugary-goodness for them.
 
Since Halloween was a night off for the demons of Sunnydale, Faith offered to stay home and babysit MacKenzie, giving Spike and Buffy some desperately needed play time all to themselves. While Buffy was trick-or-treating with the kids, Spike had gotten everything all set up for them in the long abandoned ‘Bloody Mary’ house across the street from the cemetery … and the rest was pure imagination…
 
Spike pulled back from the kiss and gazed down at her in the soft glow of the candle, letting his eyes wander longingly over her face before locking her eyes with his. Buffy bit her bottom lip to keep from smiling, trying her best to stay in character, as she started pulling against the grip Spike had on her wrists again. Lightning flashed, illuminating the room, making Spike’s vampire visage appear even more demonic as he hovered over her. His fangs seemed to glimmer, deadly and razor sharp, his eyes actually seemed to glow with an inner fire … a hunger, and Buffy felt her heart begin to race even faster.  A soft mist of rain blew in through the broken windowpane to the side of the bed and the cool, damp breeze chilled Buffy’s hot skin, making her shiver involuntarily.

 

“You afraid a’ me?” Big Bad asked in a whisper, dropping his mouth down next to her ear.
 
“You’re a Big, Bad Wolf … you’re dangerous … wicked …” L’il Red replied with a shudder.
 
“And that frightens you…” the wolf surmised in a deep, rumbling voice as he began kissing her neck. L’il Red could feel his dagger-like teeth graze against her skin as his lips seemed to make her blood boil and thrum in her veins.
 
“Frightens … and …” Li’l Red stammered, tilting her head to the side to allow him to continue his exploration.
 
“And?” Big Bad questioned, pulling back to look at her.
 
“And …nothing! You’re a bad, evil animal … a fiend set on deflowering a poor, defenseless girl!” Li’l Red asserted as she began struggling against him again, wriggling her hips and legs, trying to dislodge him, but that seemed to only excite him more.

 

“Am I, now?” the wolf questioned, cocking his scarred brow at her, easily thwarting her efforts to move him by riding her bucking hips like a bronco busting cowboy on a powerful, untamed, majestic beast. “I think the danger excites you … and my big, bad nose never lies…”
 
“No … you’re wrong!” Li’l Red contended as Big Bad dropped his mouth back to her hot skin and trailed his cool tongue down her neck, past her collarbone, pausing only momentarily to deftly slice a long gash down the front of her dress with his razor-sharp fangs.
 
Li’l Red’s top fell open and the wolf gazed reverently at her full breasts before dropping his mouth down and circling her dark nipples with the tip of his tongue. Despite her earlier verbal objections and physical struggles, the girl wasn’t pulling against his grip any longer and the subtle rise of her hips pressing against his wasn’t an effort to buck him off. When he touched his mouth to one hot, hard nub, her back arched and a low moan escaped her lips.
 
As the storm outside continued to build, with the rain pelting the tin roof of the old house and lightning flashing through the windows, Big Bad released his hold of her wrists and slid slowly down her body, trailing his hands lightly across her heated flesh.
 
The wolf settled between her sun-kissed legs, lifting them and draping them over his shoulders as he pushed her short skirt away, revealing the source of the aroma his big, bad nose had detected… nirvana.
 
“Good girls wear knickers …” Big Bad observed as he dipped his tongue between her wet folds and touched her clit, making her hips jerk up against him.
 
“Never claimed to be a good girl…” Li’l Red pointed out breathily, tilting her hips up towards him. “Just poor and defenseless.”
 
Spike spread her damp, pink butterfly wings with his cool fingers and teased the sensitive skin surrounding her entrance with his tongue, circling her vagina lightly before dipping his ravenous tongue into her heaven. He was rewarded with a flood of her heavenly pheromones which flowed over his lips, covering him with her desire and sending his senses reeling. The crazed, untamed wolf dove into her sweet, warm paradise, intent on devouring her. Buffy cried out when his tongue plunged deep into her throbbing pussy, she could feel the demon’s carnal desire invade her, she knew his sharp fangs were right there, pressing dangerously against her tender flesh … and she let the fear that she’d feigned earlier become real. She knew Spike would never hurt her intentionally … but one slip, one wrong move was all it would take…
 
The adrenaline rush from allowing her most sensitive spot to be this vulnerable to those deadly fangs combined with the mesmerizing, feral pleasure Spike was lavishing on her and sent her own inner animal spiraling out of control. Buffy’s hips jerked against the demon’s insatiable mouth, driving his tongue deeper into her burning desire and drawing blood as his fangs pricked her soft outer folds with each hard thrust. The wolf growled brutally when the blood combined with her juices and coated his tongue; it was all Spike could do to keep from actually biting her as she slammed against his mouth and took what she desired ... what she needed. When his growl vibrated through her, the flood of ecstasy that had been building exploded like a bolt of lightning and filled her body with white-hot bliss.
 
“God! Yesssssssss!” Buffy screamed, pulling Spike’s head down against her one last time as her back arched and her pussy quivered and trembled around his tongue, adding another irresistible flavor to the mix … her rapturous cum.
 
The demon growled again, angry at being controlled by her, despite the fact that it would choose to be no other place at that moment. For a second, Spike feared that he may actually lose control of the savage within as Slayer blood and cum combined into a dizzying cocktail that spun his head and burned his mouth like 190 proof pure grain alcohol, rolling down his throat like molten lava. Her unique ambrosia seemed to actually warm him from the inside out and fanned the flames of his own voracious desires.
 
As Buffy floated back down from the clouds, Spike pulled free of her grip and quickly moved over her; covering her body with his as he dipped down and seized her lips in a frantic kiss. Buffy wrapped her arms around him and welcomed the demon into her hot, wet mouth just as she’d welcomed him into her pussy. Their tongues warred between his fangs; dancing, wrestling, pressing, and twirling around each other as they both fought for dominance over the other. Spike finally regained some semblance of control and pulled back from the kiss, leaving Buffy breathless and lightheaded, and desperately wanting more.
 
“Not as defenseless as you let on,” the Big, Bad Wolf accused with a smirk.
 
Li’l Red smiled wickedly and flipped them over, catching Big Bad by surprise. Buffy straddled his hips with hers and tugged at the hem of his t-shirt, pulling it up over his head and off. “I’m defenseless,” she murmured to him, running her hands first over his deeply ridged brow, down his strong jaw, across his prominent Adam’s apple then to his hard pecs and down his chiseled abs, stopping when she reached his belt. Her eyes followed her hand’s path over the hard hills and valleys of his beautifully sculpted body. He’d been right about the scars from their time in London … none remained, at least not on the outside.
 
“I'm helpless against you, you fiend,” she announced dramatically … overacting slightly. “I can't resist your feral beauty or the sinister attraction of your hard, insatiable body,” she confessed as she started to unbuckle his belt.
 
“This better?” Spike asked, finally forcing the demon down completely.
 
Buffy looked back up to his face. The yellow eyes of the wild beast were replaced with the smoldering blue of the sensual man. Buffy lifted her hand back to his brow; the rough, deep ridges had been replaced with smooth, soft skin. She drank in the beauty of the man behind the demon with her eyes as she trailed her fingers lightly down one sharp cheekbone to his lips … the lips were the same, full, soft, begging to be kissed … but the deadly weapons they concealed no longer threatened just beyond them.
 
Buffy leaned down, her lips just barely touching his. “No… still irresistible,” she answered his question before dropping her mouth and taking those lips in a soft kiss.  Spike wrapped his arms around her, pulling her bare chest down against his as he deepened the kiss and the power struggle, the battle for supremacy, began anew.
 
His demon rose back to the surface, not wanting to miss the passionate war that was being waged. After ‘battling’ for some time, Buffy pushed up with both hands on his hard chest, breaking his embrace and the kiss as she struggled to breathe, her chest heaving with exertion and desire and still a little fear-induced adrenaline.
 
Spike watched, mesmerized by the lustful passion in her eyes and by her golden skin, which glistened in the soft glow of the candle, as she slid back down his torso to finish what she’d started earlier.
 
“You wouldn’t deflower a poor, defenseless wolf, now would ya?” Big Bad questioned as he folded his arms behind his head and watched her unfasten his belt and slide his zipper down, freeing his rigid cock from its prison.
 
L’il Red smiled sweetly as she backed further down his legs, stood up and began tugging on his pants. Spike raised his hips up to let his jeans slide down as she pulled, watching her as she ravaged his body with her eyes. “I thought wolves were … fuzzier,” Li’l Red observed with a smirk making Spike chuckle lightly.
 
“If I was, you’d take me to the bloody groomer and Nair me, I’ve no doubt…” the Big Bad Wolf countered, making Buffy laugh at the image of Spike at the dog groomer’s getting washed, dipped, and de-haired.

 

“Good wolves wear knickers …” Li’l Red murmured as she dropped his jeans on the floor.
 
“But big, bad wolves are a bloody sight more fun…” Spike defended as he watched Buffy shed her torn and tattered dress and drop it onto the floor with his jeans.
 
“Mmmmmm … are they? Let’s find out…” she challenged as she crawled slowly back up his body on hands and knees, trailing her tongue all the way from his ankle, across the swell of his calf, tickling the side of his knee, and teasing the soft skin of his inside thigh. About halfway up his thigh, she switched to dropping warm, gentle kisses on the tender flesh between his knee and groin and Spike’s cock jumped and throbbed with each touch of her gossamer lips on his cool skin.
 
Big Bad struggled to let her have her way with him, but she was close to driving him out of his mind. When Li’l Red began nibbling lightly on his upper inside thigh, a deep, rumbling growl rippled through his body and tangibly vibrated the air in the room. Li’l Red smiled … her ministrations were having the desired effect on the Big, Bad Wolf … turning him into an even bigger, even badder, even more crazed and wild beast. She pressed a knee against the wolf’s leg and he obediently bent his knees and spread them apart for her to settle between them.
 
Red purred a low moan against the base of the Big, Bad Wolf’s engorged manhood before dropping her mouth lower and tickling the delicate and sensitive skin of his scrotum with the tip of her hot, wet tongue.
 
“Bloody hell…” Big Bad groaned as his hips rose up to meet her, his cock searching for those sweet lips, silently begging for them to engulf him in their fiery depths … but they were otherwise engaged. The ‘poor, deenseless girl’ nibbled lightly on his jewels before sucking first one, then the other into her delectable mouth and swirling her tongue round and round them in a dizzying figure eight.
 
“Fuck, woman!” Sp… the wolf exclaimed, reaching down to run his hands through her golden mane as she teased and tortured and tantalized and titillated and thrilled and taunted and … a thousand other ‘T’ words which eluded his mind at the moment.
 
Spike took deep breaths of the cool, damp air that billowed in through the broken window and tried to concentrate on the sound the rain was making as it pounded down on the tin roof above them. The thunderstorm that was raging outside was nothing compared to the tornado he was trying to contain within himself. Every touch of her lips on his skin, every caress of her hand, every brush of her fingers, every hot breath that tickled his cool flesh, every moan, every long, silken hair that feathered over him was sending him spiraling faster … lifting him higher … propelling him nearer a maelstrom of uncontrollable, carnal lust.

 

When Li’l Red pulled her mouth slowly off his balls, raking her teeth gingerly across his soft, sensitive flesh, the wolf’s hips lurched and jerked … the tornado he was keeping just barely contained was desperate for release and the Big, Bad Wolf was having a hard time remembering why he was trying to keep it contained in the first place.
 
Lightning flashed through the un-curtained, second story windows of the old house and the trees outside flailed and thrashed in the strong wind like giant multi-armed monsters struggling against the earth that held them captive, rooted in place. Thunder shook the house as it rumbled over the landscape, rattling the windows and vibrating the old wooden structure like a small earthquake … or was that the deep rumbling growl emanating from her husband making the bed vibrate like that? Buffy wasn’t sure, but she was sure that she was driving him insane and she was sure that she loved doing it … she loved the moans and the growls and the way his body yearned for her; she loved how, even after eleven years and four babies later, she could still transform him into a crazed wolf with her touch, and he could do the same to her.
 
Li’l Red teased Big Bad’s sweet jewels with her tongue as she trailed it down further to his taint and wrapped her hot hand around the base of his cock, eliciting another window-rattling moan from the wolf. She started stroking his hard rod slowly and piling up the ‘T’ words again … teasing the sensitive skin between his scrotum and his ass with delicate caresses of her soft, magical tongue.
 
The wolf could physically feel himself being lifted up by the tornado that was swirling within him as the poor, defenseless girl turned him from the captor into the captive … she had ensnared him in her spell with no chance for escape, and that was perfectly fine with him.
 
“God, Buffy …” Spike moaned, calling her by her name for the first time since this night began. “Need you…” he begged as she licked and kissed and stroked him, sending his desire whirling faster and faster … picking up speed at a frantic, dizzying pace.
 
Buffy couldn’t have agreed more. She released her hold on his cock and slid quickly up his body, still between his legs, trapping his throbbing hardness between them, pressing her hips against his as she held her chest up above him with straight arms. Wanton passion burned in her green eyes as she looked down on the golden eyes of the wolf. There had been a time that she would’ve been repulsed by the demon … but that feeling had died long ago; demon and man, William and Spike – they were inexorably intertwined and she loved them both. There was a wild beauty to the vampire visage; primal and savage, and even in the fierce and ravenous eyes of the demon she could see William’s love shining through, gazing wondrously back at her.
 
Buffy leaned down next to his ear, her hair falling in delicate waves over his neck and face, bathing him in her scent and sending the whirling cyclone within him raging ever faster. “Then take me…” she whispered, her breath tickling hot and moist against his skin, her heart thundering in her chest and her need for him swirling within her just as wildly as his need raged within him.
 
It was all the permission the man needed to release the demonic tempest that he’d been holding in check. The wolf growled savagely and flipped them over, urging her legs apart with one knee and Buffy obliged greedily, opening herself up to the storm that she’d brewed within him. Big Bad pressed her legs up and out, folding her nearly in half and thrust into her heat in one hard, fast stroke.
 
“Fuck, yessss!” Buffy shrieked as his cock stretched and filled her and his pubic bone slammed down on her clit, adding fuel to the already building gale within her. Buffy’s hands went to his slim hips, her nails digging into the flesh of his ass as the storm outside the window continued to rage with nearly as much fury as the storm within.

 

The Big, Bad Wolf’s back arched as he threw his head back and howled a long, piercing, haunting cry when her strong, supple walls consumed him in painfully sweet rapture. The feeling of being joined with his wild angel was something he’d never tire of, it was something he couldn’t describe with words no matter how hard the poet within him endeavored to do so. The blissful howl of the demon was the only verbalization that came close to doing it justice … it seemed to touch his very soul, lifting it directly to heaven.
 
The man gave and the demon took … propelling the lovers higher and higher, spinning them faster and faster as the lightning outside flashed and thunder rolled over them. The whole house rattled and shuddered as they rode the dark clouds up into the stormy night sky, each offering as much to the other as they received. It was a beautiful, savage dance of lust and love … the lust without the love wouldn’t have lifted them as high, the dance would’ve been savage but not nearly as beautiful. They both wanted to ride the lightning bolts that cracked dangerously just above them and roll with the thunder as it engulfed the earth, and riding those waves of bliss together as one was twice as sweet.

 

Buffy could feel the lightning as it crackled through the air, striking, it seemed, all around the old house, as if drawn to them, to their energy, to their passion. It raised goose bumps on her skin and her whole body tingled as Spike filled her, pounding into her with wild abandon and sending his own bolts of electrically-charged rapture sailing out from her core to every cell in her body. She suddenly felt like they were both being lifted up … turning, spinning, caught in a wild, unstoppable, and uncontrollable cyclone of ecstasy.
 
She wasn’t aware of the scream that escaped her lips as she lost the ability to do anything but feel the rapture within her body as the storm of their orgasms took them up to the very place that lightning bolts were conceived, at the feet of Zeus. Then Spike was with her and they were both nothing but electrons and protons drawn to each other – merging then separating, bouncing off and back again as they spun faster and faster until they both EXPLODED. The lovers crashed down towards earth as if hurtled by the god of the sky himself – a deadly white-hot bolt of absolute power, which consumed and fused them together utterly and completely.

 

Spike’s roar of release joined with the thunder as the storm raged outside. A cool mist of rain billowed over the lovers through the broken window, but neither seemed to notice as they raced over the earth on the waves of thunder they’d created. Like a dark, vaporous rollercoaster, they rode the rumbling waves over hills, down into valleys, above the towns and cities and farms and fields of the earth. It seemed to go on forever, until finally the ride slowed, the thunder faded, and the lightning moved past them, onto the next town, the next farm … the next pair of amorous soul mates who, despite Zeus’ best efforts to keep them apart, had found each other again.
 
Buffy gasped for air as she clung to Spike, her body still thrumming and tingling from the ride they’d just come down from. Spike released her legs and she wrapped them around his hips as he collapsed down atop her, unable to control his trembling muscles for even one second longer. Buffy finally forced her fingers to loosen their grip on his hips, sure that she’d left eight perfect crescents bleeding on his ass cheeks, but Spike never complained when she drew blood; he wore them as badges of honor. She wrapped her arms around his chiseled back, pulling him even tighter against her body as they both soaked in the love of the other. Spike tangled his fingers in her hair and rested his head down next to hers, breathing in the sweet scent that was no one but Buffy, from her shampoo to her glistening skin to her rapture, which covered him, it was an intoxicating fragrance of true love that he hoped he would have the pleasure of bathing in for all of eternity.

 

Buffy ran her hands gently up and down Spike’s damp back; the mist that had blown in through the broken window cooled his skin even more than normal and it felt wonderfully refreshing against her overheated flesh. Spike thought he heard her … purring? Or perhaps it was just deep sighs of contentment. He lifted his face up and looked at her, brushing some stray locks away from her face with his fingers. His blue eyes shone with love and reverence as he smiled down at her and she returned the devotion with a satiated smile and loving gaze of her own. Buffy brushed some stray curls that had been loosened from the rain and exertion away from his face and lifted her lips up to his, touching them gently. How the universe had created such a man for her, she didn’t know … had it been fate or just chance? Was there a prophecy written in one of Giles’ musty old books that told of a romantic, loving, sensual, fierce warrior made specifically for the ‘one that stands alone’? She didn’t know … what she did know was …
 
“I love you,” she whispered softly against his lips as her hands continued their gentle caresses on his shoulders and back.
 
“And I love you … you poor, defenseless creature,” Spike teased, making Buffy smile wider. It was fun to feign helplessness and vulnerability, but she knew that what he loved was just the opposite; it was her strength and determination, just as she loved the same in him.
 
**~**
 
(later that night), November 1st, 12:30 am:
 
Spike carried the sleeping twins out to the Blue Bomber and strapped them in their car seats. Despite their earlier contentions that they were going to ‘stay up all night’ this Halloween because the following day was a ‘Teacher’s Planning Day’ and they were out of school, they had finally come down from their sugar high and succumbed to exhaustion, according to Xander, about halfway through ‘The Monster Squad’.

 

“Thanks for entertaining them tonight,” Buffy told Anya while Xander, still on crutches, held the door open for Spike to carry a sleeping Annie out to the minivan.
 
“Oh, it’s no problem. I’m sure the next time we want to have a few hours full of sex games and orgasms, you can watch JJ for us,” Anya replied with a dismissive wave of her hand.
 
Buffy rolled her eyes and shook her head affirmatively. “You betcha …”
 
“So, how does the Red Riding Hood Game work?” Anya continued, looking at Buffy’s outfit. Spike had thankfully brought her a different dress to put on under the cloak, which he hoped would get him out of having to actually sew the dress back together later.

 

“I mean, is it the new version of the fairy tale or the true one? Do you actually cut Spike open to get out or is it the namby-pamby, politically correct version where the wolf doesn’t even eat Red? And who plays the woodsman? I was thinking that Xander could be the woodsman and I could be the grandmother next time…” Anya continued prattling. “Assuming, of course, that after he saves them, the grandmother gives the woodsman wild sex as a reward … and of course, the woodsman gives the grandmother lots of orgasms and they all live happily ever after. Isn’t that how fairy tales are supposed to end?”
 
Buffy choked and coughed slightly before heading into the kitchen to get a drink of water … Anya followed her waiting for an answer. “Well,” Buffy started after swallowing some water. “We sort of make up our own rules … it’s only loosely based on the story. I run through the woods and the wolf outruns me to grandmother’s house … we just pretend that he ate grandmother … no one actually gets … uhhhh … eaten in a literal sense.”
 
“Oh … kinda like when Xander and I play Monopoly, but instead of houses, we get to buy different kinds of orgasms. I, of course, always get more because Xander is horrible with money and usually ends up in jail. So, how far do you run?” Anya wondered, switching gears on Buffy abruptly, her brows furrowed in thought.
 
“Oh … uhhh … you know where Joe’s Creek crosses the woods? From about there to the other side of Restfield Cemetery,” Buffy explained still digesting the sex-Monopoly idea. Was there any game that Anya couldn’t find a way to include sex in? Chutes and Ladders? Candyland? Life? Risk? Hi-Ho-Cherry-O? Clue? … Buffy doubted any of them were safe. Mrs. Harris, in the study with a vibrator …


 


Anya shook her head and frowned. “No … that would never work. Xander would collapse and have a heart attack if he had to run that far … then no one would get eaten, literally or otherwise. I’d have to take him to the emergency room and we’d end up dealing with over-priced, egotistical doctors and surly nurses all night. It’d probably be best to just cut right to that part and stay home and play naughty nurse instead.”
 
Buffy widened her eyes, smiled saccharinely, and nodded, relieved that Anya got the idea of joining them out of her mind. “I think that’s an excellent idea, and it skips the annoying heart attack part.”
 
**~**

Extra bonus on the music - it's a SPUFFY-ish video ... :)

{{Click here to hear “Li’l Red Riding Hood” by  Sam the Sham & the Pharaohs on YouTube  }}


Owoooooooo!
Who's that I see walkin' in these woods?
Why, it's Little Red Riding Hood.
Hey there Little Red Riding Hood,
You sure are looking good.
You're everything a big bad wolf could want.
Listen to me.


Little Red Riding Hood
I don't think little big girls should
Go walking in these spooky old woods alone.
Owoooooooo!


What big eyes you have,
The kind of eyes that drive wolves mad.
So just to see that you don't get chased
I think I ought to walk with you for a ways.


What full lips you have.
They're sure to lure someone bad.
So until you get to grandma's place
I think you ought to walk with me and be safe.


I'm gonna keep my sheep suit on
Until I'm sure that you've been shown
That I can be trusted walking with you alone.
Owoooooooo!


Little Red Riding Hood
I'd like to hold you if I could
But you might think I'm a big bad wolf so I won't.
Owoooooooo!

What a big heart I have-the better to love you with.
Little Red Riding Hood
Even bad wolves can be good.
I'll try to be satisfied just to walk close by your side.
Maybe you'll see things my way before we get to grandma's place.


Little Red Riding Hood
You sure are looking good
You're everything that a big bad wolf could want.
Owoooooooo! I mean baaaaaa! Baaa?
End Notes:
TBC ... We have one more chapter in SunnyD then we will cut over to Bess and see what she's been doing all this time that she's been gone. Hope everyone has a holiday filled with love and laughter and the company of good friends! Thanks so much for reading and please stop in and let my blue-eyed evil muse know what you think ... he loves hearing from you!
If You've Got the Money, Honey by Passion4Spike
Author's Notes:
Life goes on in SunnyD … Billy’s soft heart might be more than that; Spike finds a new way to make ‘extra’ money, Annie attends her first school dance.
**
Testarossa:  The Ferrari TR, or 250 Testarossa, is a race car model built by Ferrari in the 1950s and 60s. These cars dominated their arenas, with variations winning the 24 Hours of Le Mans in 1958, 1960, and 1961. The phrase "testa rossa" means "red head," named after the red valve covers.
**
Music Referenced:
If You’ve Got the Money, Honey, I’ve Got the Time by Leon Russell (originally by Lefty Frizzell) http://youtu.be/72n3mooTJh8
 **
ScreenCaps courtesy of ScreenCap Paradise: http://www.screencap-paradise.com/?cat=3
(two weeks later), Thursday, November 11th, 2010, 3:30pm:
 
Annie, Dani, JJ, and Billy bounded off their buses and greeted their mother/aunt and newest little sister/cousin at the bus stop then JJ, Annie, and Dani began prattling happily about their day as they walked toward the mansion. Buffy had 'Kenzie bundled up against the cool fall air … she’d considered bringing the stroller, but had decided to just carry her the short distance to meet the bus, instead. Despite the redhead’s unorthodox entrance into the world and the prophecy hanging over her head, her first twenty-six days had been relatively normal and trouble free. Yeah, there were the two am feedings and the long nights and only short naps for the weary parents, and Xander’s crew was still working on the house, which didn’t help with the sleep quotient, and the collection agencies were starting to get pretty rude … but they were dealing with it. The miracle that was the small redhead helped to remind them that there was still joy to be found in the world, and it couldn't be bought with all the money in the universe.
 
Spike continued to bring in extra money from his gambling winnings and had even made a trip to Las Vegas, where he won enough in one weekend to actually make all the minimum payments on all the credit accounts for one month … of course, the fact that some of those credit accounts were two or three months behind meant that the collection agencies still called. Unfortunately, he'd also been accused of counting cards and his welcome in Sin City had been ... well, revoked.
 
While the kids were in school, Buffy would work with Giles, Faith, and Wes going through the cargo containers, scanning books into the computer, and researching magical do-dads as well as interviewing applicants for the Apocalypse Leadership Team and serving on the Committee Guidance Committee. She left the training of new Slayers to Giles, Faith, Amanda, and Wes … although Spike sometimes helped with that, giving the new girls their first taste of what fighting an actual vampire was like. Buffy also suggested that any of the duplicate books and magical knick-knacks that were unneeded and non-apocalypse-bringing could be sold on eBay if there was no local market for them, so she was put in charge of selling said items and given a percentage of the sales price for getting them listed and photos taken of them. It wasn’t a lot, but it was something she could do in the evenings to bring in extra money and still be at home with the kids.
 
Fred reported that, down in L.A., Cordelia had been treated by W&H and had seemingly made a full recovery. Paying the price W&H demanded for their alchemists and sorcerers to treat Cordy had nearly sent Angel and AI into bankruptcy, even with the money he took back from Spike and Buffy … but they were squeaking by. The economy was still bad, but AI was bringing in enough money to keep the hotel functional and the AI staff in Ramen noodles … they weren’t starving and had a roof over their heads, anyway.
 
Giles continued giving Bess’ Slayer paycheck to Buffy since he didn’t know what else to do with it, and Buffy opened an account in her daughter’s name … Elizabeth Anne Weatherford, and deposited the checks in there, saving the money for one day … One day, when Bess came back, she’d need that money, Buffy reasoned … one day. Buffy and Spike, as well as the children, continued watching Bess with the locator spell … she’d gone to Cleveland and had been there for some time. Buffy had Faith talk to some of her old Slayer friends there and they confirmed that there had been someone slaying vamps … someone who had not checked in officially with the team of Slayers in Cleveland.
 
One girl reported a small blonde girl had saved her life when she’d stumbled into a nest of eight vamps unexpectedly, but the girl had disappeared like a ghost, staking and vanishing before the dust of the last vamp settled to the ground. Spike surmised that the demon in Bess had been somehow drawn to the Hellmouth there … Hellmouths definitely had a powerful, almost magnetic, pull for demons. Once there, her natural Slayer instincts took over … she probably didn’t even realize there were other Slayers there when she first arrived or understood why she had been drawn to the city in the first place.
 
As Buffy walked back home from the bus stop with the kids, Dani held up a paper for her. “We drew pictures of our families today!” Dani announced with a smile as Buffy took the picture from her hands. Buffy was happy to see that their daughter had drawn a fairly ‘normal’ looking family … stick figures in different sizes, five blondes, a brunette, and a redhead. She was happy that Bess was included in Dani’s family portrait, despite the eldest Weckerly having been nothing more than a dot on a map since July.
 
“That’s lovely, sweetheart – another masterpiece for the fridge,” Buffy complimented the girl, then looked at Billy. “Where’s yours, honey?”
 
Billy shook his head and frowned. “I lost it.”
 
Buffy furrowed her brow. “You lost it? That doesn’t sound like you…”
 
Billy just shrugged, his eyes glued to the sidewalk.
 
“Did someone take it?” Buffy tried.
 
“No … I just lost it.”
 
Buffy noticed a look pass between Dani and Billy.
 
“What happened?” Buffy questioned again, shifting the baby to the other arm and giving Dani a stern look.
 
Dani frowned and looked at her brother. She’d promised not to tell … Dani shrugged and repeated what Billy had said, “He just lost it…”
 
“Ok, you two … out with it!” Buffy demanded.
 
Billy sighed and rolled his eyes dramatically. “It just wasn’t any good … I threw it away.”
 
“Billy, why would you think your picture wasn’t any good?” Buffy pressed, worried that one of the other kids had made fun of something he’d drawn and Billy, being a mini-William, took their adolescent gibing to heart.
 
“It just wasn’t …” Billy sighed.
 
“Danielle Dawn … what happened?” Buffy demanded again as they reached the house and started down the stairs into the garden.
 
“Mrs. Scruggs said it wasn’t any good," Dani admitted, which made Billy glare daggers at her.
 
“WHAT?!” Buffy exclaimed in disbelief, looking at Billy. “I can’t believe a teacher would say that! You must’ve misunderstood her.”
 
Billy pulled his angry eyes away from Dani and looked at his mother as they entered the great room. “She held it up and showed the class and said that was the wrong way to draw … she said it wasn’t right, it wasn’t any good,” Billy reluctantly confirmed what Dani had reported.
 
“WHAT!?” Buffy questioned again, this time angrily. “Get in the car … everyone in the Bomber! Now!”
 
**~**
 
Buffy left Annie, Dani, JJ, and Billy in the Blue Bomber with Annie in charge and she took MacKenzie in her car seat/carrier into the school with her to find Mrs. Scruggs. She’d met the teacher earlier at a parent/teacher conference. Mrs. Scruggs was a pretty brunette in her thirties, she’d been teaching for about seven years; Buffy liked her well enough and hadn’t gotten the impression that she was incompetent or callous. She really couldn’t imagine why the teacher would do what Dani and Billy said she did.
 
Buffy got to the classroom just as the teacher was gathering up to leave for the day.
 
“Hi,” Buffy greeted her. “You may not remember me, but I’m Dani and Billy’s mom … Buffy Weckerly.”
 
“Certainly,” the teacher assured her with a smile as she sat her bag back down on her desk. “What can I help you with?”
 
“Well …” Buffy stalled, as she sat the baby’s carrier down on the floor and began rummaging through the garbage can at the back of the room … it didn’t take long for her to find it. Billy must’ve tossed it on his way out at the end of the day.
 
Buffy looked at the drawing. She had to admit that it wasn’t ‘typical’ … it was more ‘Expressionist’ than ‘Realist’ with lots of colors and vague forms and definitely no stick figures. There were two large swirls, like big commas facing each other, one red and one black, curled protectively around five smaller entities, which were all different shapes and colors; orange, green, purple, blue, and yellow. Each color merged with at least one other and created blends of new colors where they touched … pink, orange, turquoise, violet …  The colors were all dark, rich, vibrant, and full of energy – and they all intermingled, all giving support to each other to create a whole which was more than the sum of its parts … Buffy thought it suited their family well.
 
Buffy turned and held the drawing up for the teacher. “I was just wondering what was wrong with this …”
 
The teacher frowned slightly and stepped towards Buffy. “Well … the assignment was to draw their family … that’s … well … it’s just colors and shapes; it wasn’t what I asked for.”
 
Buffy raised her brows and looked at the picture again … it looked like them to her. “You know, I’ve only been to a few college courses, so I'm no expert, but one class was ‘Art Appreciation’, which I know sounds lame, but was actually kinda interesting. If my memory’s correct, I’m pretty sure this would be considered ‘Expressionism’ … You know, not everyone sees things quite so literally,” Buffy informed her.
 
“I realize that…” the teacher began, but Buffy cut her off.
 
“On top of which … he’s six! How could you embarrass him like that!? Holding his picture up in front of the whole class as an example of what not to do?! Do you have any idea how hurtful that was?”


 
“I assure you, that was not my intention…” the teacher began to defend herself.
 
“Well, intention or not, that’s what you did. Do you have any idea how long it’s gonna take me to get him over that? I’ll be lucky if he’ll ever draw anything again!” Buffy cut her off again.
 
“I apologize…” Mrs. Scruggs stammered.
 
“Don’t apologize to me! Apologize to him … preferably the same way you embarrassed him, publicly … in front of the class. The next time he draws something, maybe you should take a minute to try and understand it before just dissing it out of hand,” Buffy advised her. As Buffy’s agitation grew and her voice rose, MacKenzie started crying.
 
Buffy took a breath and turned around and started back towards the baby. “I have to go … my kids are waiting in the car.”
 
“I honestly thought he’d purposely drawn something other than what I asked for …” the teacher apologized again.
 
“We are talking about Billy here, right?!” Buffy asked incredulously, as she picked the carrier up and started giggling it lightly to get the baby to calm down. “Now, if it had been Dani, I’d say … maybe, but not Billy.
 
“This is our family. That’s me, and my husband and we’re watching over the five kids … it’s perfectly clear,” Buffy informed her, pointing to the shapes on the paper.
 
“Yes … I suppose it could be, now that you point that out – it’s just not the normal way kids draw their families …” the teacher agreed and Buffy rolled her eyes.
 
“Normal … right. God forbid we don’t all fit into your boring, cookie-cutter life. I haveta go…” Buffy repeated before heading out into the hallway, shaking her head in disbelief and blowing out an exasperated breath as she went. Heaven forbid everyone’s not ‘normal’.
 
When Buffy got back to the minivan with the drawing, Billy’s frown deepened. He was hoping she wouldn’t be able to find it, that the janitor would’ve already taken it away.

“I talked to your teacher,” Buffy began after she got the baby carrier strapped back in and she was sitting behind the wheel, turning in her seat and looking at Billy. “She didn’t understand the symbolism of it. It isn’t that she thought it was bad, she’s just …” several adjectives popped into Buffy’s mind which she fought to keep from rolling out of her mouth, finally going with, “… not familiar with the Expressionist school of art. She’s really sorry that she embarrassed you.”

  

Billy remained unconvinced, but nodded anyway. He really just wanted to stop talking about it now. He didn’t know why he drew their family like that … it was just what came out. Next time he’d just copy Dani and draw stick figures … or maybe he’d pretend to be sick and go to the nurse’s office to get out of it.
 
Buffy sighed and turned around, then started the minivan and headed for home. She knew it was gonna take more than that to reassure him … maybe if Spike said something about it before going to work. As mad as Buffy was at the teacher, she also felt some sympathy for her; the classes were big, really too big, and it was probably hard to take a lot of individual time with each student to really get to know them. Anyone that knew Billy would know that he wouldn’t blithely draw something that wasn’t what was requested; that teacher obviously didn’t know her students very well.
 
Buffy began to wonder if she should look into getting Billy into a Magnet program like Annie was in … not languages, of course, but something … artistic or scientific – something with smaller class sizes and more individual attention where his abilities and interests could be explored in more depth. But Dani would never qualify for a Magnet school, she definitely had Buffy’s aptitude for ‘higher learning’ … and Billy would probably not want to go without her. If they only had more money they could afford to send them to a private school which could benefit them both. Yeah, right … just as soon as Buffy won the lottery which she never bought tickets for.
 
**~**
 
Buffy had taken over most of the cooking duties again because Spike was just working too many hours. She had dinner ready when he got up that evening, as had become the new routine – get up and eat, spend another hour or so with the kids and Buffy before heading to The Fish Bowl … come home in the early morning hours, spend time with Buffy if she was up, collapse, sleep … get up and do it all over again. Buffy liked to be up when he got home so they could spend some alone time together before the ‘collapsing’, but she didn’t always know when he’d get home. If he got involved in a card game or some other ‘sideline’ activity, he sometimes barely made it home before dawn.
 
When Spike sauntered into the kitchen this evening, Buffy greeted him with a hug and a kiss. The kids were all sitting in their places at the table and Spike dropped kisses on all their heads and started asking them about their days as he picked MacKenzie up from the bassinette and held her against his chest. At a lull in the conversation, Buffy said, “We have new artwork…” pointing to Dani and Billy’s drawings which were stuck to the fridge door with magnets.
 
“Do we now?” Spike asked rhetorically as Buffy served the kids dinner – homemade chicken fried rice – which was waaaay cheaper than getting it from the Chinese place and the kids loved it. Buffy was getting really good at making the food stamp allowance last the whole month and was actually starting to like finding new and creative ways to feed her family chicken.

 

Spike got up and walked over to the fridge, still holding the newest little bit gently against his shoulder, and looked at the drawings, studying them each intently.
 
“Well, I reckon you didn’t have to do any fancy footwork for Lemon Drop’s … no fangs or fists to be seen. Good job on that, pet. Upheld the Scooby pledge, you did,” Spike complimented Dani, turning back to look at her and giving her a wink, which made her smile proudly. She’d heard the story about the drawing Annie had done when she was younger and Dani definitely didn’t want to make that mistake, especially after being sworn to Scooby-secrecy.
 
Billy used his fork to move the food around on his plate, piling it first on the left side, then sliding it slowly back to the right, but never actually eating any of it and not looking up.
 
“Junior’s is quite the masterpiece, innit? Them bold colors and shapes … reminds me a bit of a Franz Marc work,” Spike continued. “Bloody hell … we could sell it on eBay and pay the soddin’ bills…”

 

“We’re not selling it …” Buffy countered as she watched Billy, who was listening but acting like he wasn’t. “We can’t sell a family portrait … he’ll just have to draw something else.”
 
“Reckon that’s true enough …” Spike agreed, taking the picture down off the fridge and bringing it back to the table with him. He sat down next to Billy and laid the picture down between them. “Too bad you had to use black for your mum … I always draw her as the white angel … but it’s hard to draw white on white paper, yeah?”
 
Billy pursed his lips together and looked up at his father. “She’s black 'cause she’s the Slayer … it hides her in the dark and keeps her safe,” Billy explained.
 
Spike’s lips pursed in thought and nodded, making Buffy smile at her two men with matching faces. “That’s a brilliant plan … hadn’t thought a’ that.”
 
Spike pointed to the colors that represented the children. “The Niblett’s green, yeah? Lemon Drop … yellow; orange … our little Testarossa; blue for our missing bit, and purple for you,” Spike listed off, pointing to each color as he went.
 
Billy furrowed his brow and looked up from the picture back to his father. “How did you know that?”
 
Spike shrugged. “Simple … ‘cos it’s what I would’ve used … green – that ancient Key energy, yellow for our sunny sweet-tart, orange for our child born o’ fire, blue for Bess ‘cos you know how all alone she is, and purple for the brilliant heart bringin’ it all together … the color a’ courage.”
 
“Mrs. Scruggs said it wasn’t any good … she couldn’t see anyone in it,” Billy complained shyly.
 
Spike’s brows went up and he looked at Buffy. “Did she now? Well, we’ll just haveta have a talk…”

 

“I already did…” Buffy interjected.
 
“Ahhh, well then, I reckon the Slayer set 'er straight, opened ‘er eyes,” Spike assured Billy. “Ya know, not everybody can see what you do … you can’t be too hard on ‘em, Junior – they just don’t see things the same way.  Not everyone sees with their heart…”
 
Billy scrunched up his face in thought. “Is there something wrong with me?"

"No!" Buffy exclaimed immediately, before Spike could even answer. "There's absolutely nothing wrong with you! Never think that."

"But, I’m not normal, am I?” he continued, looking from his mother to his father.
 
Spike smiled down at him. “No … and don’t you ever forget it. Normal’s way over-rated, William … that’s not somethin’ to strive for – it’s somethin’ to run away from. You just be you, no matter what the tossers may say, and everything will be brilliant. No worries, yeah?”

Billy thought another few moments then nodded as a small smile came to his lips. His dad could see everyone in the picture just like he drew them ... maybe it was just the teacher that couldn't see, like his mom had said. 

**~**
 
Buffy and Spike walked out to the garden as he got ready to leave for work.
 
“You know that drawing of The Tetrad … the one from my dream?” Buffy asked him once they were alone.
 
“Yeah.”
 
“The symbol for Billy was a heart … I thought that meant the mortal – but you think it means something else, don’t you?” she questioned him as they both stopped and turned to face each other under a clear, starry sky.

 

Spike shrugged. “You said it yourself … Junior’s got a soft heart … he’s … empathic to others – he can understand what they’re feeling … sees deeper than the surface sometimes,” Spike offered.
 
“He’s an empath …” Buffy concluded.
 
Spike shrugged again. “Not sure … only time’ll tell,” Spike admitted. “Could be he’s just more in tune with feelings than most people … it’s not necessarily a ‘superpower’ – maybe just a little more observant than most,” Spike suggested.
 
“Kinda like his dad?” Buffy suggested as she leaned into him and Spike wrapped his arms around her, pulling her into a tight hug.
 
“Could be some resemblance …” Spike agreed.
 
“Are you sure ‘normal’ is something to run away from?” Buffy asked quietly.
 
Spike snorted a soft laugh and hugged her tighter. “Positive, pet.”
 
**~**
 
(The following week) Friday, November 19th, 2010, 6pm:
 
Spike was keeping an eye on the younger kids while Buffy helped Annie get ready for her first ever school dance– they were holding a 1960’s psychedelic-retro themed dance at her middle school.

 

Buffy helped Annie put together a suitable outfit mostly using clothes that they already had on hand, with the addition of tie-dyed leggings and a hippie headband that Buffy found for a dollar at the thrift shop. They left Annie’s long hair down, soft curls falling freely past her shoulders to the middle of her back, with the headband holding it away from her face, then they added the tie-dyed t-shirt that Buffy had bought for Bess in London … tying the hem at the bottom in a knot on her left side to make it fit, under that was one of Annie’s pleated, denim mini-skirts. The outfit was completed with the colorful leggings and black ankle boots.

 

Buffy showed Annie how to apply a little makeup – not enough to make her look skanky, just enough eye shadow to bring out the blue in her eyes and a little rouge to highlight her high cheekbones and some lip gloss. Annie was giddy with nervous excitement as she got ready; officially, she was going to the dance with her friend Janice … unofficially, Johnny Martin said he was going to be there. She hoped he knew how to dance and was smart enough to not eat anything sticky this time … if he played his cards right, she might let him kiss her tonight.
 
As Buffy was just putting the finishing touches on Annie’s outfit, they could hear Spike bellow from downstairs, informing them that Janice’s mom would be there any minute and, as usual, the Weckerly women were going to be late. Annie and Buffy both giggled and rolled their eyes … beauty could not be rushed; Spike should know that by now!
 
Spike was just getting ready to announce the time again when Annie appeared at the top of the stairs, silencing him. He watched her come down, looking very much like that flower child he ate at Woodstock…only much, much prettier.

 

“Where the bloody hell's m’ daughter?” Spike asked, looking up the stairs behind Annie as she got to the bottom.
 
“Daaaaad!” Annie moaned, rolling her eyes. “How do I look?” she questioned, holding her arms out from her body and twirling in a circle.
 
“You look like I need to go with ya … There are chaperones at this shindig, yeah?” Spike asked … again.
 
“For the tenth time … yes, there are chaperones … and no, you can’t be one,” Annie informed him decisively as Buffy joined them.
 
“That skirt’s a bit short, innit?” Spike questioned. “Might catch her death of cold …” he pointed out to his wife.
 
“That’s what the leggings are for, Mr. Fuddy-Duddy,” Buffy informed him.
 
“What’s that clown make-up doing on ‘er face?” he continued.
 
“Spike … it’s not clowny … you’re gonna give her a complex!” Buffy chastised him.
 
“Better me than one of those gits at the party … better wash your face, Niblett … don’t want anyone laughing, saying you’re a clown-college reject,” Spike advised her.
 
“Daaaaad … Mom’s right – it’s not clowny – all the boys are gonna like it!” Annie claimed with a satisfied smile.
 
“Yeah … that’s what worries me …” Spike muttered, a concerned frown creasing his features. “Maybe you should go with ‘er…” he suggested to Buffy.
 
“Noooo … I have to stay here and watch our other children grow up – and you have to go to work,” Buffy informed him. “She’ll be fine, Spike. Our girl knows how to take care of fresh boys, don’t you, sweetie?”
 
“Yup … dance them to death!” Annie giggled just as a horn blew from out front. “That’s Janice! I gotta go!” she announced, grabbing her purse and starting for the door.
 
“Hey – too old t' give your old man a kiss?” Spike called behind her, touching a finger to his cheek.
 
Annie turned back around quickly and dropped a kiss on Spike’s cheek. “Love you, Dad.”
 
“Love you too, Niblett … you look beautiful,” Spike told her sincerely.
 
“Thanks … see you later,” Annie replied happily, kissing Buffy before heading quickly out the door.
 
Spike turned away from Buffy as he wiped at his misty eyes. His little girl was growing up faster all the time. It seemed like it was only yesterday that she was playing with baby dolls and squealing in delight when he made his ‘funny face’ … now she was going to dances – tomorrow she’d be dating and the next day she be getting married …
 
Buffy walked up behind him and wrapped her arms around his waist, resting her head on his shoulder blade. “It’s your own fault…” Buffy informed him.
 
“What is?” Spike questioned as he laid his hands over hers as she hugged her arms tightly around his torso.
 
“How pretty she is … those blue eyes, high cheekbones, thick, silky hair … you have no one to blame but yourself …” Buffy clarified.
 
Spike sighed. “I reckon that’s m’ cross to bear, then …” he intoned seriously. “Too bad she didn’t take more after her mum … homely and plain, with mousey hair, and pimples on her chin.”
 
“Don’t forget surly …” Buffy added, pulling away and punching him in the middle of back. Spike stumbled forward as his laugh mingled with a painful screech – she was so easy to rile up; it was like taking candy from a baby.
 
**~**


(Later that Night) Friday, November 19th, 2010, 7:30pm:


 
“Pretty sure you’re not supposed to be here…” Faith whispered in Spike’s ear as he peered through the small window in the gymnasium doors at Annie’s middle school, where the dance was being held.

 

Spike jumped and twirled around in surprise; he hadn’t even heard her come up behind him, so intent was his attention to the dancing going on behind the glass.
 
“Bloody hell, woman! You trying to give someone a soddin’ heart attack?” he questioned, placing a hand on his chest.
 
Faith laughed and rolled her eyes. “As if,” she moaned, shaking her head. “What are you doing here? You’re supposed to be at work.”
 
“Just … on m’ way,” Spike defended haughtily. “Thought I’d … make sure the kiddies were safe – no beasties or whatall hangin' about.”
 
“Uh-huh,” Faith offered disbelievingly as she looked into the gym through the window he’d vacated. “Pretty sure the only ‘beastie’ you’re worried about is that boy who’s playing tonsil hockey with your daughter…”
 
“What!?” Spike exclaimed in horror, pushing her out of the way and scanning the crowd of pre-pubescent party-goers for Annie. Unfortunately, nearly everyone was dressed the same in the gaudy tie-dye attire and he had a hard time finding her.
 
When Faith started laughing while Spike frantically looked for Annie in the crowd, he realized she was fucking with him. “Anyone ever tell you you’re a cheeky wench?” Spike questioned, narrowing his eyes at her.
 
“Can’t say that they have, but hey – first time for everything, right?” Faith continued jovially. It wasn’t everyday she could get Spike that flustered that easily.
 
“What the bloody hell are you doing here, anyway?” Spike questioned, figuring a good offense was better than any defense.
 
“Same as you … or … well, no – I’m actually looking for real beasties … Buffy sent me to patrol around here just to be safe,” Faith explained with a smirk. “Obviously, she didn’t know you were already on the job…Mr. Creepy Stalker Dad peering in windows. It’s really a good look on you, in a Ted Bundy sorta way.”
 
“Sod off…” Spike muttered as he looked back through the window and started scanning the group for his daughter again. He finally found her – dancing … with a boy. “Bloody hell…”

Faith stood on tiptoes and looked in over his head. “He’s cute, kind of a cross between Peter Frampton and Justin Bieber … wonder if she’s kissed him yet,” she offered casually.

  

“Would you just stop with the soddin’ vulgarities already!?” Spike exclaimed. “That’s my daughter you’re talkin’ about!”
 
Faith laughed again and stepped back from the window. “Yeah, and if you don’t want her pissed off with you, you better go to work.”
 
“I’ll go to work when I bloody well…” Spike stopped abruptly and moved quickly out of the window, turning and pressing his back against the solid part of the door.
 
“She spotted you, didn’t she?” Faith guessed. “You are so dead...er."
 
“Not sure…” Spike admitted. “See if she’s comin’ this way…”
 
Faith looked in the window. “You better run – she’s one pissed off eleven year old…”
 
“Bloody hell…” Spike moaned as he took off running back to where he’d parked the DeSoto, duster billowing out behind him as he fled the scene of the crime.

 

Faith laughed again as she watched Annie dancing with the cute boy … she hadn’t actually seen Spike at all, but Faith just couldn’t resist making the vamp run for his unlife.
 
**~**

(Later that Night) Friday, November 19th, 2010, 9:30pm:
 
Annie skipped down the garden stairs and danced into the great room, twirling and humming to herself, a giddy grin plastered on her face.
 
“So … had a horrible time I guess,” Buffy teased as she snapped a picture of her daughter with the digital camera in her hand. She’d been taking pictures of more magical do-dads in order to get them listed on eBay.

 

“It was groovy!” Annie gushed, using one of the new vocabulary words from the theme of the party. “I had a blast! It was hard to get the boys to dance, though … but us girls danced almost every song! Why don’t boys like to dance?”
 
Buffy shrugged. “I don’t know … you’d think they would, it gives them an excuse to fondle girls without getting their hands slapped.”
 
“Dad likes to dance …” Annie observed.
 
Buffy nodded. “Yeah … he figured it out – boys that dance get all the girls fawning over them.”
 
“I think Dad likes to dance ‘cos you give him smoochies afterwards,” Annie suggested.
 
“Well … that could have something to do with it,” Buffy agreed. “But your dad just likes to dance regardless of smoochies. I think boys are afraid they’ll look dorky or they just don’t know how to dance. You might have to pick one out and teach him…”
 
“Oh, I already did,” Annie offered, her smile widening. “Johnny Martin … he only stepped on my toes a few times at first, but he got better after I kissed him.”
 
Buffy laughed out loud. “You kissed him? I guess he didn’t eat any grape jelly tonight, huh?”
 
Annie giggled. “Nope … he tasted like fruit punch the first time…”
 
“The first time? How many times did you kiss him?” Buffy wondered, smiling at her daughter.
 
“Three … one to get him to dance, one after he danced, and one before we left … He’s a good kisser – he just uses his lips – if he’d stuck his tongue in my mouth like you said some boys do, I would’ve puked on him,” Annie divulged.
 
Buffy laughed again and put her arm over her daughter’s shoulders as they headed upstairs. “You may want to leave the kissing part out when you tell your dad about the dance…” she advised.
 
“Yeah, I think dad would ‘freak-out’ … he’s totally ‘unhip’ – I don’t think he’d ‘dig it’,” Annie agreed, showing off her new psychedelic vocabulary.
 
“I think it would definitely ‘blow his mind’…” Buffy confirmed.
 
**~**
 
(Late the next night) Sunday, November 21st, 2010, 2:30am:
 
As had become the habit, Spike contacted Buffy to let her know about what time he’d be in from work tonight, so she took a short nap after getting the kids to bed and then got up so they could spend a little time together. As she waited for him to get home, she worked in her office, sorting through the bills, trying to figure out which ones she needed to pay next. Spike would have his paycheck tonight and hopefully a little extra from gambling to throw in with it. She always tried to pay the mortgage first, then the electric bill, water bill, phone bill, car insurance … things that they could turn off, or that would cause a lot of trouble if they weren’t paid, then she worried about the credit cards and doctors.

 

This coming Thursday was ‘the ritual sacrifice with pie’ … it was a tradition to have it at the mansion and Buffy was reticent to change that. They had the most room and most of the repairs to the house were done, enough so that the house no longer looked like a construction site; she’d just have to make it simpler this year and ask her friends to bring more covered dishes. She loved hosting Thanksgiving, it was one of her favorite childhood memories and she wanted it to be one of her children’s favorite memories, too – finances be damned.
 
Everyone would be here – Willow and Tara would be coming down on Monday with Eddie – the only one missing would be Bess. The Slayer-vamp had left Cleveland and started heading east again, perhaps Spike was right, perhaps she was going ‘home’ … back to Philadelphia. Every day Buffy got up and checked the map and the location of their daughter … and every day she prayed for Bess to turn around and start back towards California … so far, every day she’d been disappointed. As much as she wanted to go after her, she knew Spike was right – Bess had to want to come back; if she didn’t want to stay, any attempt to hold her would be fruitless and could cause more damage to their already damaged relationship.
 
Next month was Christmas … Wal-Mart had had Christmas decorations out since before Halloween! Seriously!? Buffy could remember when those didn’t come out until the Friday after Thanksgiving … pretty soon they’d start stocking Christmas decor on Valentine’s Day … All that had done was start the kids dreaming of Christmas that much sooner. She had no idea how they were going to provide any kind of a real Christmas for the kids this year. As she searched through her credit card bills she added up how much ‘available credit’ they had … $127.58. Buffy snorted a laugh – that wouldn’t even be enough to buy the mandatory, and universally dreaded, shoes, socks, and underwear for the Weckerly clan.
 
“Mama?” a small voice called from the hallway, pulling Buffy from her depressing thoughts.
 
“Billy … honey, what’s wrong?” Buffy asked as she got up and met him at the doorway and picked him up.
 
“I can’t sleep…” he whined tiredly, rubbing his eyes.
 
“Why not, sweet boy?”
 
“Bess is so lonely – it hurts right here,” he told Buffy, putting his hand over his heart.

 

“Awwww, sweetie,” Buffy empathized. “You can feel her, huh?”
 
Billy nodded, then leaned his head against Buffy’s shoulder and wrapped his arms around her neck.
 
“Can you talk to her in your dreams?”
 
“She said not to come back … but sometimes I do … I don’t mean to,” he admitted. “I just try to stay away from her and not bug her when that happens.”
 
“What’s she doing in the dreams?” Buffy wondered.
 
Billy shrugged. “Different stuff … sometimes it’s like she’s back in the dungeon … but it’s a different dungeon now; she just sits there, like she’s waiting for something or like she doesn’t know what to do. Other times she’s fighting bad vampires in a cemetery or just hiding in the dark … one time she was running from these ginormous, ugly rats! I try to stay out of the way so she won’t be mad at me.”
 
“You know … maybe you could try talking to her again. It’s been a long time since she told you to go away, maybe she’s changed her mind. She might like someone to talk to … you could tell her we miss her and we love her and … tell her that her room is still here waiting for her,” Buffy suggested.
 
“What if she gets mad at me again?”
 
“Well … at least you know you tried to help her the very best you can. I think she might like someone to talk to, though … and I know you want to help her,” Buffy advised her son.
 
Billy thought about that a while before nodding. “Ok … next time I’ll try,” Billy agreed as Buffy carried him back into his room. She laid him down on his bed and he crawled back under the covers and Buffy tucked him in.
 
“Just do your best … that’s all you can do. If she doesn’t want your help, you can’t make her take it … but I think maybe she’d like a friend right about now,” Buffy assured him again before kissing his forehead and patting a hand down reassuringly on his arm. “Good night, sweet boy.”
 
“Good night, Mama.”
 
**~**
 
When Spike got in a little while later, Buffy was back in her office, trying to figure out just how to get the most bills paid out of the available money he would be bringing home with his paycheck – anything extra he got she could apply to the ‘less important’ bills, like the doctor or dentist – she didn’t see how they could repossess her tooth, or MacKenzie.
 
“Hey, pet,” Spike greeted her when he came in behind her, leaning down and dropping a kiss on the side of her neck.
 
“Hey, yourself …” Buffy smiled, reaching a hand up behind his neck and holding his lips against her skin a few moments longer.
 
Buffy furrowed her brow when she pulled her hand away, rubbing her fingers together – it was oily and smelled like … coconut? She sighed and shook her head, God only knew what kind of demon he fought tonight that left that residue on him … the ‘SPF45 Demon’ or the ‘Hawaiian Tropic Demon’, perhaps.

 

“How was your night?” Buffy asked as Spike stood back up and dropped his paycheck down on the desk.
 
“Not bad …” he sighed as he started digging in his jeans pockets for the ‘extra’ he’d made this night. “Got some extra for ya…”
 
“Darts, pool, or cards?” she asked as he started dropping pockets full of crumpled up one dollar bills down on the desk. Buffy began picking them up and straightening them out … they were all oily and coco-nutty too.
 
“What did you do, steal the lunch money from a bunch of school kids at the beach?” she teased as she picked out a few fives and tens from the wads of singles and put them to the side.
 
“Woulda got a lot more if I hadda, I reckon,” Spike offered as he switched from the pockets of his jeans to the pockets on his duster, still pulling out small, oily bills.
 
Buffy laughed lightly – that was true, school lunches weren’t a dollar anymore. “Oh, I know – you’re living a double life – mild mannered father, husband, and vampire by day; hot bodied, oil covered male stripper by night,” she teased.
 
Spike began coughing and sputtering as he pulled the last of the money out of his pockets. “W-w-what makes you say that?” he questioned, his voice rising several octaves. “That’s bloody … ridiculous … ludicrous, it is! Male stripper … who ever heard a’ such bollocks?”

 

Buffy finally looked up at him … he looked – uncomfortable … guilty.
 
“Ok, stealthy double-agent man you’re not. Spill it, Spike. Where did you get this money?” she demanded as she stood up and turned around to face him.
 
Spike sighed and rolled his eyes before dropping his head and rubbing a hand over his oily neck. “Would it be better if I stole the munchkin’s lunch money?” he asked tentatively.
 
Buffy folded her arms over her chest and raised her brows. “You’re working as a male stripper? And you didn’t think I’d want to know because…??”
 
“It’s not what you think, luv …” Spike began defensively.
 
Buffy raised her brows further, if that was possible. “What I think is that for every oily bill on this table, some woman stuck their grubby little hands down your pants …” she asserted tersely.
 
Spike rolled his eyes. “Well … ok, maybe it is what you think … but…”
 
“Oh. My. God! You’re serious! You let a bunch of lecherous, ugly, old women grope you for money!”

 

“They weren’t that ugly … or old …” Spike defended, immediately regretting it when he saw the look in her eyes … he was pretty sure steam was gonna start boiling out of her ears any second. He held his hands up in surrender. “That came out wrong …”
 
“Yeah, I guess it did … so you were groped by young, pretty women … I bet I got the lecherous part right, though, huh?”
 
“Calm down a minute, Slayer … nothing happened – it was just a … a dance and it was just the one time. They were havin’ a bachelorette party at the bar and their entertainment didn’t show … one of the women asked me if I would … fill in…”
 
“Oh … so, of course, you agreed to take your clothes off in front of total strangers for money!”
 
“Well, most of our friends don’t have any money, so I didn’t see much point in strippin’ for them…” Spike countered sarcastically, his hands going to his hips.
 
Buffy blew out an exasperated breath and stared at him for several long moments. “Spike … how would you feel if the situation was reversed? What would you do if I came home and told you I let a bunch of guys fondle me with dollar bills?”
 
Spike shrugged. “Probably kill every last one of ‘em … then get you to show me what you done to get all that pretty green paper.”

 

Buffy shook her head and looked up at the ceiling, completely exasperated. “I did it for you, pet …” Spike offered in his defense. “You think I enjoyed it? ‘Cos … gotta say … that little g-string thing’s bloody confining – cuts off your circulation, it does.”
 
“You don’t have any circulation…” Buffy pointed out, looking back at him with a dour frown.
 
“Well … it pinches,” Spike amended tersely. “How much did we get?” he asked, cocking a brow at the money she’d put in stacks on the desk.
 
We? You mean you and your willie? ‘Cos I’m very sure I wasn’t there…” Buffy rolled her eyes as she turned around and picked up the money and began counting it. “Three hundred and seventeen dollars,” she announced after a couple of minutes.
 
“For an hour … and I gave Tiburon $25 …” Spike gave her his best ‘lost puppy’ look, stealing one of her tactics and letting his bottom lip poke out in a pout while tilting his head to the side. “Now, that’s a decent wage, yeah?”
 
Buffy rolled her eyes. “If you like whoring yourself out…”

 

“Buffy, it wasn’t like that. Nothin’ naughty happened … I swear … it was just some drunk girls havin’ a little innocent fun. Three hundred bucks … pays a lot a’ them bills, yeah?” Spike pointed out.
 
When she just stood there with her arms folded across her chest shaking her head, Spike added, “You know I love you … everything I do is for you and the bits. I’d never do anything to hurt you or betray you.”
 
Buffy sighed and dropped her arms to her sides. She knew that was true. And it wasn’t like he slept with them … and lots of people, men and women, make a living taking their clothes off – it’s not like he made a porn movie or anything like that. And he was right, three hundred dollars would make a nice dent in the ‘minimum monthly payments’ that were past due.
 
“Did you get their names?” she asked him, her tone serious as she refolded her arms across her chest.
 
“Uhhh … no …but I could probably find out from … Why do you want their names, pet?” Spike wondered, his brows furrowed in confusion.
 
“So I can hunt them down, confiscate any video evidence of your dance for my own private collection, and kill them,” Buffy replied, keeping a deadly serious tone and a straight face.

 

Spike bit down lightly on his bottom lip. “I reckon you’re gonna have to skip to the part of me showin’ ya what I did to get all that coconut flavored paper, luv…” he offered, wagging his eyebrows up and down suggestively. "You can film it if ya want..."
 
“On one condition … I’m the only one that gets to fondle you ever again … that was your one and only venture into show business,” Buffy informed him, the corners of her mouth finally turning up into a small smile.
 
Spike smiled back at her and reached a hand behind the small of her back and pulled her against him. “Deal,” he agreed, dropping a kiss on her lips. “Now … what did I do with that bloody g-string and coconut oil…” he asked rhetorically, patting down his pockets with his other hand.
 
“Never mind the g-string … wouldn’t want the circulation to any vital organs getting cut off,” Buffy teased, running her hand down his back and squeezing one ass cheek possessively.

 

Buffy reached behind her and picked up the stack of dollar bills off the desk, waving it in front of his face. “I got the money, honey…”
 
“Then I got the time,” Spike purred as he reached down and picked her up with one hand under her knees and one behind her back and headed to the bedroom with her.
 
“This will definitely be an audience participation performance…” she murmured against his neck as he strode down the hallway.
 
“Anything for you, pet.”

 


**~**

{{Click here to hear “If You’ve Got the Money, Honey, I’ve Got the Time” by Leon Russell on YouTube }}


If you've got the money, I've got the time
We'll go honky tonkin' and we'll have a time
We'll make all the night spots dance romance and dine
If you've got the money, honey, I've got the time

Now there ain't no use to tarry so let's start out tonight
We'll spread joy boy oh boy, honey, we'll spread it right
We'll have more fun baby all way down the line
If you've got the money, honey, I've got the time

If you've got the money, I've got the time
We'll go honky tonkin' and we'll have a time
Bring along your Cadillac leave my old wreck behind
If you've got the money, honey, I've got the time
Yes we'll go honky tonkin' and we'll be pleasure bent
I'll look like a million but I won't have a cent
But if you run short of money I'll run short of time
Cause you with no more money, honey, I've no more time
If you've got the money...
If you've got the money...



End Notes:
Hey, you lot out there in cyberspace! This is the brains o' the operation; the bloody stenographer's out at some holiday party or whatnot, thought I'd stop in. She don't know I can type ... so no blabbing, yeah? Now, since it's Christmas and all, I've given you a couple o' angst-free chapters ... but that rot is over with now. Buck up! No complaining!! ... You know I love t' make ya cry and that's what I'm givin' ya for Christmas this year ... my favorite gift - sniffles and misty eyes. We're gonna check in on young Bess next, see what she's been up to all this time. It ain't been all blood and puppies, I can tell ya. But you knew that, didn't you? So, we'll catch up with her for a couple of chapters before coming back to Sunnyhell. If I can get the bint that works for me to put down the eggnog for a bloody minute this weekend, I'll have 'er post both of 'em. Now, I know you're busy little beavers out there ... shopping and baking and wrapping those trinkets, but you be sure to drop me a line when you get a minute ... don't have to say much ... Don't like it? Just say "Rot!" ... if you do, say, "Brilliant!" ... easy, yeah? 'Course, if you got more words squirming around in your pink, mushy brains ... I always love t' hear 'em!



Oops ... she's comin' ... gotta go! Oh ... and ... Merry Christmas ... or whatnot.
2000 Light Years From Home by Passion4Spike
Author's Notes:
Bess thinks she’s going ‘home’, is she really just getting more lost?
**
Rumors that the Harley mechanic, Sammy, is based on my step-son should not be taken seriously and will be denied vehemently ... despite the uncanny resemblance, right down to the earrings and chaw of ta-bak-ee ... bless his heart.

If you aren't familiar with the very southern expression, 'bless your heart' (or 'his heart' or 'her heart') and its real meaning and usage ... check this out:
http://www.urbandictionary.com/define.php?term=bless+your+heart
**
Music Referenced:
2000 Light Years From Home, The Rolling Stones http://youtu.be/drwM5jQvrpU
 **
ScreenCaps courtesy of ScreenCap Paradise: http://www.screencap-paradise.com/?cat=3
**
Thanks to 'epd4' for betaing this chapter - any mistakes are mine because I can't stop fiddling ...
(5 months ago), Friday, July 2nd, 2010, 9:45pm:

 

Bess could hear Buffy screaming at her as she roared out of the driveway on Spike's Harley, “Bess! Damn it! Come back!” … but she couldn’t turn back now – she’d made her choice and it was to run. Despite the tears that stung her eyes, Bess handled the large bike easily, she’d gotten several lessons from Troy over the last few weeks and was more than competent on a motorbike. She steered the powerful machine towards the ‘Lover’s Lane’ up in the hills above Sunnydale – she needed time to think and Troy had shown her a well hidden path that went up into the wooded area above the lane, she could get her thoughts under control and figure out what to do now.
 
The argument with Buffy replayed over and over in her mind as she rode and she couldn’t stop the tears that streamed from her eyes – Buffy just didn’t understand. Bess had tried, she’d tried and tried and tried to be ‘normal’ to be what Buffy and Spike wanted, but it was no use. She wasn’t ‘normal’ and the only two things in the world she was qualified for and good at were slaying and screwing; slaying didn’t pay anything … not even enough to cover her blood and chocolate, according to what Buffy had said on the phone conversation that Bess had overheard – that left screwing.  She longed desperately to fit in, to be what everyone wanted her to be, but it was no use … she couldn’t fit in and Buffy and Spike were going to send her away … again, she was sure of it.

 

Bess rode the Harley up the steep, narrow path that lead to a rocky cliff above Lover’s Lane and cut the motor. She dropped the kickstand, got off the machine and walked over to the edge of the cliff, climbed up on a large boulder and sat down so she could look over the sparkling lights of the city below and keep an eye on the trail, just in case someone found it and followed her up. She couldn’t get the argument out of her mind, Buffy’s disappointment in her had been evident, her anger crystal clear.
 
“This isn’t about money!” Buffy had informed her adamantly. “This is about … self-respect! We didn’t risk our lives to get you out of that dungeon just so you can turn right around and sell yourself! We did it because we love you and want you to have a good life.”
 
Bess snorted a sad, sarcastic laugh ... she thought that love would be enough, but love didn’t buy blood and chocolate, did it? What difference did it make to Buffy and Spike, anyway? She wasn’t doing anything she hadn’t done thousands of times before … only now she was getting money for it instead of a whole lot of nothing. All they wanted to do was control her with their rules … do this, don’t do that … they were suffocating her – it was like being back in the dungeon – there was a rule for everything. She was so tired of rules, but this time she could do something about it. She wasn’t locked behind heavy bars, she wasn’t shackled any longer – this time she could escape the oppression – escape the torment of their rules. This time she could leave before they sent her away … this time things could be on her terms, not someone else’s.
 
Bess sat on the boulder and ran the last couple of months over and over in her mind … is that all it had been, a couple of months? It seemed longer … much, much longer. She thought about Billy … he was going to be upset when he found out that she’d gone and Bess felt a pain stab in her heart. He’d helped her … he was the only one that really seemed to understand her – without judgment, without rules and without asking for anything in return. Then she thought of Dani … Bess loved spending time with the fireball of a girl – riding bikes and roller-blades and skateboards … she felt an indescribable kinship with her, more than a friendship, more even than sisterhood. Then Annie forced herself into Bess’ mind … despite Bess being older in every way than Annie, Annie still felt like the older sister, just like Anne in her human life. It was a comfort to have her there … she often helped Bess with the younger kids and took the newcomer under her wing and worked hard to include her in everything they did.
 
Bess shook her head – it didn’t matter … she couldn’t go back now and try again; that bridge had been burned. The kids may miss her for a while, but they’d get over it quickly now that she was out of their lives. Bess was pulled from her thoughts when she saw Buffy’s minivan pull into the lane below. She scrambled back off the boulder and ducked down so she couldn’t be seen. The eastern sky was just starting to lighten with the dawn … had Bess been sitting here all night? Had Buffy been looking for her all night? Bess slipped to the side of the rock and peered down the hill and watched as the van crept slowly down the now deserted lane, stopping at the end and parking. Buffy got out and walked around; Bess could hear the Slayer calling her name and she turned her back to the boulder and sat down on the ground behind it, covering her ears and head with her arms and hands to block out the horrible sound of Buffy's voice.
 
Bess felt trapped … that meaning that everyone talked about cinched a tight noose around her heart and began to strangle her. It was frightening … it was terrifying – they’d drawn her in with their promises, but she couldn’t live up to their standards and now they were going to take everything back and toss her out. Why did Buffy come looking for her? Just so she could tell her to not come back? Why couldn’t everyone just leave her alone? Bess suddenly realized that alone was safer … she’d told Spike she didn’t know how to be ‘not alone’ and he promised to show her how to be part of their family … but now she realized that alone was the best way to be. Alone kept that pain of letting other people down away, alone meant you didn’t have to explain yourself to anyone, alone meant you didn’t have to follow any rules but your own, alone meant that meaning that everyone wanted her to experience didn’t exist, alone meant no one could send her away again.
 
Through her covered ears, Bess heard the minivan start back up and she slowly stood up, looked over the boulder and watched Buffy pull away. Bess started to cry again and her tears turned to sobs as she watched the woman who claimed to be her mother drive away … Why did it hurt so much to watch her go? Maybe because that small glimmer of hope that Buffy hadn’t come to tell her to stay away from her family died a painful death in her heart. She didn’t even want to think about that possibility …  
 
Bess took a deep, shuddering breath and tried to calm down … she was alone. That’s what she wanted, and now she had her wish. Now that she could do anything, go anywhere, be anyone … what is it that she wanted to do? All she’d ever wanted over the last century was to go home … she didn’t want to be a Slayer, she didn’t want to be a vampire, she wanted to be fourteen and living in Philadelphia with the two people that she considered her mother and father – Wanda and John. Yes, she knew they were dead, but somehow it just seemed like the only thing to do was to go back there … back to the last place that she’d felt like she really belonged. Maybe she could find answers there; figure out what was wrong with her, why she kept letting everyone down and getting sent away. Maybe then she could figure out how to be ‘not alone’.
 
Bess got up from her hiding place and went back over to the Harley and cranked it up, her decision made: she’d follow the sun to the east until she found what she was looking for … she hoped she’d know it when she saw it.
 
**~**
 
(late that night, into the next day) Sunday, July 4th, 2010, 12:00am:

 

Bess found the interstate and rode the Harley full out, going as fast as she could, weaving through traffic like she was a twenty-something guy who still thought he was indestructible; like an organ donor riding a kamikaze mission on a rice-rocket. She had to make a quick exit off I-40 in Flagstaff, Arizona when she saw the blue lights of the state police flashing behind her. Per Spike’s advice, she pulled into a crowded, yet grungy looking, bar (‘cos none of the stores were open at this hour) just off the interstate. She drove the bike around back and parked it quickly, then jumped off and ran inside. She watched out the window as the police car kept going down the main road; she’d been far enough ahead of it that they didn’t even see her pull into the parking lot.
 
After that scare, she slowed down a bit and stopped weaving through traffic like a bat out of hell. There was no hurry really … she was going to live forever, what would one or two more days mean?
 
Just outside of Albuquerque, she ran into rain … it got so hard that even she was having a hard time seeing and controlling the bike in the strong winds and wet road, so she pulled into an old, abandoned gas station. She pulled around back, parked the bike, and kicked the back door in, then rolled the Harley inside the small, dry space with her. She’d been up for over twenty-four hours straight; she needed some sleep, anyway.
 
**~**
 

“Bess? Are you ok?” Billy questioned, shaking her shoulder as she slept on the cold, hard floor of the old filling station.
 
Bess sat up sleepily, rubbing her eyes. “Billy …”
 
“Bess, are you ok?” he asked again. “How come you left?” Billy questioned, sitting down on the floor near her.
 
“I’m fine. I left because I wanted to … you need to just leave me alone now,” Bess informed him tersely, standing up.
 
“But … I don’t understand. I thought you liked us …” Billy questioned, standing up as well.
 
“Well, I don’t – so you need to get out of my head and just leave me alone!” Bess insisted.
 
“Did I do something wrong?” Billy wondered, his brow furrowed in confusion and worry.
 
Bess rolled her eyes. “Everyone in your family thinks everything is about them … well, it’s not. I just got tired of being held back, so I left. Now, I’m not gonna tell you again – get out of my head,” Bess repeated, pointing a finger at the door of the building.
 
“But …” Billy began to object.
 
“Get out! Get out, get out, get out!” Bess screamed at him, pushing him towards the open back door of the gas station. She shoved him out into the rain and slammed the door behind him. “And stay out!”
 
**~**
 
Bess jerked awake, half expecting to find Billy there with her, but she was alone. Her chest tightened in anguish and tears stung her eyes … she hated being mean to him, he’d only ever been nice to her and helped her … he was, in a word, her savior – but he needed to leave her alone now – forget about her. It would be best if everyone back there just forgot about her.
 
Bess stood up stiffly and peered through the dirty window at the front of the station – the rain had stopped. She didn’t know how long she’d slept, but she suddenly felt like she needed to be moving again; she needed to get as far away from Billy and the rest of them as she could, as fast as she could.
  
**~**
 
July 7th, Renaldo, Oklahoma:
 
Bess sat on the steps in front of the repair shop where she’d pushed the Harley when it stopped running. The mechanic told her they didn’t typically work on motorcycles, but after a few shy smiles and woeful looks, he made an exception in her case.
 
“You threw a rod … engine’s shot. Didn’t your daddy tell you to watch the oil pressure? It’s dry as a bone after a week in the desert,” the young man told her, wiping his hands on a blue shop rag as he walked out to where she was sitting.
 
“Can you fix it?” Bess asked, standing up.
 
“I can’t … there’s a guy I know, Sammy … he works on Harleys – I can get it towed to his place and he can take a look, but I’m gonna say it’ll need a whole new engine – you’re looking at anywhere from five grand up…”
 
“Five THOUSAND dollars!?” Bess exclaimed, her eyes as wide as saucers. “I don’t have that kind of money! Are you certain?”
 
The mechanic shrugged. “Maybe less if he has a rebuilt engine he can replace it with, or he might be able to rebuild that one if the block isn’t damaged … It’ll be fifty bucks for the tow – he can tell you for sure.”
 
Bess sighed heavily and nodded her ok to have the bike towed to Sammy’s, although she had no idea how she’d pay to have it fixed, especially if it cost that much. She had a little over four hundred dollars on her … that was it. She had hoped that would be enough to pay for the gas to get her to Philadelphia … now it looked like she was going to need to do something to make more money.
 
**~**
 

The Harley mechanic was a six foot tall, redheaded, good-ole-boy in his early to mid-twenties with a beer belly and tattoos covering most of the skin of his forearms, which, thankfully, was all the skin Bess could see. He wore broke-down cowboy boots, oil-stained blue jeans, a t-shirt that claimed he did 'not need anger management, he needed people to stop pissing him off', a dirty ball cap which sported the 'Stars and Bars', and gold hoop earrings in both ears – which seemed completely incongruous with the rest of his appearance. Between spits of brown tobacco juice, Sammy spoke with a thick southern drawl, telling Bess that he could probably get a rebuilt engine for the bike for $3,000. After some negotiation, including some tears and her best ‘damsel-in-distress’ look, Bess got him down to $2,500. She’d been prepared to go further than woeful looks, but doubted she could get the price down any further, regardless of what more she did, and he didn’t make any moves on her, so she let it go at that.
 
She gave Sammy all the cash she had as a deposit and left the bike with him as she went to work on earning the rest of the money. She’d been working the streets of the small town about a week and had made almost one thousand dollars, most of which she’d given to the mechanic for the repairs on the Harley. It definitely wasn’t as lucrative here as it had been in Sunnydale … these men were cheap and a lot of them were just plain smelly and gross. She didn’t care how much they paid her or how much she needed the money, she wasn’t sleeping with men that smelled like they hadn’t bathed in a month or had bad breath and brown teeth … or no teeth.
 
**~**
 
(a week later) July 15th, Renaldo, Oklahoma:

 

Bess leaned in through the car window and smiled at the man in the driver’s seat, just like she’d done many times before. He was attractive enough and had no discernible odor except some sort of spicy cologne. “Looking for a date?” she asked congenially.
 
“How old are you?” the man wondered, looking her over carefully.
 
“Old enough…” Bess assured him.
 
The man furrowed his brow but shrugged. “How much?”
 
“What kind of date do you want?” she questioned.
 
“Everything,” the man told her.
 
“A hundred for everything…” Bess replied.
 
“A hundred?! Where do you think you are, New York City?” the man objected. “I can get everything for $25 any day of the week!”
 
Bess shrugged. “Not from me you can’t…” she advised him, licking her lips and smiling seductively.
 
The man sighed … “Fine – get in, but you better be damn good.”
 
“I am,” Bess assured him as she got into the car. “I have a room at the Berkley Arms – just turn right here,” she directed him.
 
The man followed her into the hotel room and shut the door, then pulled out some money from his pocket and began counting it out on the bed. “A hundred right? And I get sucked and fucked,” he clarified.
 
“You got it…” Bess agreed as she reached for the money.
 
As soon as the money was in her hand, the door to the room crashed open, splintering the jamb, and several police officers in Kevlar vests burst in on them, screamed at her to get down, that she was under arrest. The man that she’d been dealing with grabbed her wrist and spun her around, pushed her down face first onto the bed, and put a knee in her back. Bess was so surprised that she didn’t react for a moment … but when he started handcuffing her, she felt panic rise in her like a tidal wave. Her mind flashed back to the dungeon, to the shackles and the cruelty, to being under someone else's control, and she began to fight back.
 
The moment she started to pull away from the policeman, Bess felt a warm blanket of calm come over her, like a peaceful shroud. It covered her limbs with an invisible, sticky, thick taffy, making them feel heavy and weak, but inexplicably safe at the same time, like a protective cocoon engulfing her. Bess first thought they had drugged her, but then she heard her mother’s voice, Wanda’s voice, admonishing her calmly. Be still, child; don’t fight. You’re a fine, sweet girl … you don’t want to hurt anyone.  
 
Bess lifted her head and turned it from side to side, looking for the source of the voice, but she saw no one there but police officers. She closed her eyes and tried to hear the voice again … had she just imagined it? “Mom?” she called softly. “Mommy?”
 
“Your mom can’t help you now,” the man that she’d made the deal with assured her as he pulled her up to her feet. “You’re under arrest for prostitution within a thousand feet of a school, a class four felony,” he continued before beginning to spout off her Miranda rights and pulling her towards the door of the room. But Bess didn’t hear him … she was still trying to find the source of that voice, she was sure it had been her mother, but she couldn’t hear it any longer or find where it had come from. Her limbs still felt heavy as they dragged her along to the paddy wagon and put her in with the other prostitutes that they’d collared this night – four in total.
 
Maybe they had drugged her after all … maybe she’d just imagined her mother’s voice, something induced by the drugs. After fingerprinting, taking her mug shot, and processing her into the small town jail, they put Bess in a cell to await a bail hearing. Once alone in the small cell, Bess felt the heavy blanket of calmness lift off her, as if the drugs had finally worn off, and that feeling of panic returned.
 
Bess banged against the heavy door with her fists, feet, and shoulders for a long time, but it wasn’t giving – and there were no windows or any other way in or out of the cell. Finally, she dropped down onto the cold floor, her back against the hard block wall; she could almost feel something inside her physically snap and she began to cry. She was right back where she started – caged like an animal. The last two months in Sunnydale seemed like a fantasy … a dream. It was as if she’d fallen asleep in one hell only to wake up in a new one. Had she really been out of her cage at all? Had the time outside the dungeon been some kind of false memory her captors had implanted in her mind, a new type of psychological torture they’d inflicted on her to further whittle her down, to make her fit into their mold even better? Was Billy even real? Did Buffy and Spike exist? She felt like she was losing her mind … they had finally done it – they have finally taken the last thing she had left, her sanity.
 
The next days were a blur for Bess, she wasn’t sure what was real any longer – she just went through the motions in a state of depression and disassociated resignation. She’d never get out of this place … and why should she? Even the imaginary family her captors had woven into her memories hated her and were going to send her away … she couldn’t even fit in with figments of her own imagination. This was where she belonged, locked up for all eternity.
 
“Elizabeth … are you sure there’s no one I can call to post your bail?” her attorney asked for the tenth time in as many days as they awaited trail.
 
Bess shook her head. “No … I’m alone,” she murmured, her eyes unfocused, unseeing, speaking more to herself than the woman sitting across from her.
 
“Your parents, perhaps? You know … no matter what you’ve done, I’m sure…” the attorney prodded.
 
“They’re dead,” Bess interrupted her.
 
“If you were on drugs or abused, we can use that to try and mitigate the charges … perhaps get you into rehab,” the attorney suggested, but Bess again just shook her head.
 
“Ok, then … I can probably cut a deal, since it’s your first offense, if you’ll plead guilty, I can probably get a suspended sentence and a fine…” the attorney tried.
 
“I don’t have any money to pay a fine…” Bess pointed out.
 
“Elizabeth, I can’t help you if you won’t work with me,” the woman advised her.
 
Bess looked up at the woman … she’d been here several times, always asking questions and trying to ‘help’ … Bess couldn’t figure out what this was, but she was sure it was another form of torture, like Billy, and later Spike and Buffy, they’d sent someone offering help which, in the end, would evaporate at the last moment like wisps of smoke, leaving her even more depressed and broken than before and still caged like the monster she was.
 
“Then why don’t you go away and leave me alone?” the girl questioned, her voice even … despondent, as she stood up and moved to the door of the interview room, waiting for the guard to come and take her back to her cell.
 
**~**
 
(two months later) Monday, September 13th, 2010, 10:00am, Renaldo, Oklahoma:
 
As Bess adjusted to the rules of her new jail, she’d ‘escape’ every night in her dreams. She often dreamt of Sunnydale and the imaginary family she had there. She’d seen Billy cowering in the corner of her dreams more than once, but never approached him or spoke to him – it would just make things worse to perpetuate the fantasy that he was real. She also dreamt of Philadelphia and the family she grew up with from the age of five to thirteen – a family long dead. She dreamt of memories she thought were long forgotten, of happy times and a loving home, of Wanda and John, of William and Anne. What she didn’t dream about was the future; there was no future for her, that was the one thing she was certain of.
 
Every day she waited for the guards to take her to the white room … but they never did. There weren’t many prisoners in the small town jail and each one had their own cell – for the most part she was alone, and that suited her well enough. Her biggest problem was they never gave her any blood and she was getting weaker and weaker living on only ‘people food’.  She couldn’t actually recall the last time she’d had any blood ... it seemed very long ago. She didn’t know if that was part of the new regimen of punishment or if it was a new experiment, to see how long a vampire could survive without sustenance. She finally talked one of the guards into bringing her raw hamburger, instead of cooked, on the one day a week they served beef … it wasn’t much, but it was enough to keep her mind functioning – barely.
 
Today she stood in a courtroom in her orange jumpsuit, the woman that she’d told to ‘go away’ stood next to her. Despite Bess not cooperating with her and constantly telling her to leave her alone, the woman persisted. That, as far as Bess was concerned, was all the more reason to believe it was just another cruel hoax meant to break her spirit and make sure hope never surfaced again.
 
The man behind the large desk at the front of the room was talking, but Bess was only half listening; she had a hard time concentrating recently and frankly, it was just more effort than it was worth. He was saying something about a motion to reduce the charge to a misdemeanor because although Bess’ room had been (just barely) within 1,000 feet of a school, the place where she had picked up the law enforcement officer and actually made the deal, was not.
 
“…., young lady?” the judge questioned.
 
Bess suddenly realized he was talking to her. “I’m sorry … what?”
 
“What is your plea to the charge of misdemeanor prostitution?” he asked again.
 
“Ummm…” Bess looked at the woman beside her, not sure what they wanted her to say – not really sure what he was even talking about.
 
“Say ‘guilty’,” the woman advised quietly.
 
Bess looked back at the judge. “Guilty,” she parroted her attorney, not having enough energy to even question it.
 
“The plea will be so entered. You are sentenced to a fine of $200 or one month in jail,” the judge announced.
 
“Miss Weckerly’s already been incarcerated for two months…” her attorney pointed out.
 
“Weatherford … my name’s Weatherford,” Bess corrected the woman quietly, but no one acknowledged her or even seemed to hear.
 
“Then she’s free to go,” the judge proclaimed, handing the file to his clerk. “Next case.”
 
**~**
 
(Later that afternoon) Monday, September 13th, 2010, 5:30pm, Renaldo, Oklahoma:
 
Bess felt like she was in a haze as the guards took her back to the jail and sat her in the processing area. She really just wanted to go back to her cell and lay down … she was so very tired. She still didn’t quite comprehend what was going on when they gave her her street clothes back and sent her into the bathroom to change. When she came out, they handed her her personal belongings and had her sign for them, handed her a one-way bus ticket for Oklahoma City and sent her on her way.
 
Bess stood on the sidewalk outside the jail and looked around in a daze … what just happened? She was almost afraid to step foot off the sidewalk into the street lest someone tackle her and drag her back inside. She looked up and down the street, then back at the jail … what was she supposed to do now? What did they want from her? Was this another test? Another experiment?
 
“Elizabeth?” Bess heard from a car that stopped in front of her. “Do you need a ride, dear?”
 
Bess bent down and looked inside the car … it was her attorney. She looked warily back at the jail … no one seemed to be coming out after her. Bess bit her bottom lip and nodded and the attorney signaled for her to get into the car.
 
“Where do you want me to drop you?” the woman asked when Bess had gotten in.
 
“I … I don’t know…” Bess stammered, trying to get her mind to work, trying to think of what she should do now.
 
“Do you have some friends in town?”
 
Bess shook her head, she really couldn’t remember. She opened her purse and began digging around in it, finding the receipt for what she’d paid the mechanic to work on the Harley inside. It was the only clue she had ... so she went with it.
 
It was dusk when the attorney pulled the car up in front of Sammy's garage and stopped in a parking place out front. As Bess started to get out of the car, the woman laid a hand on the girl’s arm. “Bess …” the woman started and the Slayer-vamp turned back to look at her – the attorney had never called her ‘Bess’ before. Bess blinked her eyes and shook her head, trying to get them to focus … the woman next to her in the car was Wanda.
 
“Mom?” Bess questioned, sure she was hallucinating.
 
“My sweet child … you’ve been through so much. I’m so sorry I couldn’t have come sooner,” Wanda continued.
 
“M-mom?” Bess stammered again, still not believing her eyes.
 
“I can’t stay, child … you need to listen now. Follow your heart and it will lead you home. Trust in yourself and you’ll find your way back to the ones that love you,” Wanda advised.
 
“Oh, God, Mommy!” Bess exclaimed, wrapping her arms around Wanda and hugging her tightly.
 
“Elizabeth … are you sure you’re alright?” the woman in the driver’s seat questioned, taken off-guard by the sudden hug she found herself wrapped up in.
 
“W-what … but …” Bess stammered, pulling back and looking at the woman who was not her mother. “Oh … I’m … sorry … I …” Bess stuttered as she gathered her purse up and got out of the car. “Thank you…” she muttered as she closed the door.
 
“Take care of yourself,” the attorney called as she put the car in reverse and backed out of the parking space, then headed back out into traffic.
 
Bess stood looking at the building in front of her – it did look familiar now that she was here, but she couldn’t get the image of her mother out of her mind. Bess lifted her fingers to her nose and the soft scent of Lily of the Valley wafted gently through the air ... the perfumed water her mother always used. She turned back and looked at the car that was now halfway down the block and shook her head … she was definitely hallucinating … she needed food – she needed blood.
 
“Well, well, well … look what the blasted cat drug in,” Sammy teased in his thick southern drawl as he walked out of the garage towards Bess, a fresh chaw of tobacco swelling his bottom lip and accentuating his southern accent. “I’d just about given up on ya, sweetheart.”
 
Bess gave him a small smile, trying to buy time for her brain to kick in and tell her how she knew this man.
 
“Got ‘er all done – it runs like a champ, you’re gonna love it – that baby purrs,” he told her, waving an arm towards a motorcycle parked off to one side of the garage.
 
“Oh … great,” Bess hedged as images of the argument with Buffy, and riding off on the motorcycle flashed in her mind. She rubbed tiredly at her eyes … was that real? Is this real? Is anything real?
 
“You know … I need to … I’m not feeling really well – I think I’ve got low blood … sugar,” Bess stammered.
 
“Well, it just so happens I’m starving myself,” the mechanic announced, patting a hand on his XXL stomach. “C’mon, I’ll buy ya a slice,” Sammy offered, heading over to his well-worn pickup truck and opening the passenger door for Bess.
 
Bess hesitated momentarily, then climbed in, not really sure what else to do, and the mechanic headed into town. After a short drive, Sammy pulled up in front of the pizza place in ‘downtown’; downtown Renaldo consisted of one main street lined with small ‘mom and pop’ shops and little else. Bess got out of the pickup and started to follow him into the pizza joint when her nose caught the whiff of something much sweeter … blood.

 

She turned around, following the aroma, and saw a butcher shop across the street. Her demon came up unbidden, right in the middle of Main Street and no matter how she tried, she couldn’t get it to go down.
 
“Hey – you comin’?” Sammy called from behind her.
 
“Yeah … uhhh … I’ll be there in a minute – I … ummm …” Bess didn’t finish her thought, her mind too focused on the food to come up with any reasonable explanation. She reached back in the pickup truck and grabbed a ball cap that was hanging on the gun rack in the back window and pulled it down over her face as far as she could.
 
The demon urged Bess across the street and into the butcher shop, heedless of traffic, making several cars blow their horns and squeal tires as she sprinted towards the manna that she needed so badly. Bess kept her head ducked as she ordered three quarts of pig’s blood.
 
“Don’t see many young people making blood pudding these days,” the butcher commented as he got the order ready.
 
“I’m an old fashioned girl…” Bess replied, silently willing him to hurry lest she lose control of the demon completely.
 
“That’ll be ten dollars …” the butcher announced, setting the containers of blood on the counter in a brown paper bag.
 
Bess opened her purse and pulled out her wallet … but there was no money in it. She searched through the other pockets in her purse, but all she had was the bus ticket to Oklahoma City … the police had confiscated all her money as proceeds from illegal activity. “Shit … shit, shit, shit…” she muttered under her breath.
 
“Is there a problem, young lady?” the butcher asked congenially.
 
“I’m sorry but…” Bess looked up at him and bared her teeth, growling fiercely as she grabbed the bag of blood off the counter. The butcher jumped back away from her and shrieked in fright as Bess streaked out the door with the blood, running down the sidewalk as fast as her starving legs would carry her and turning into the first alley she came to.
 
She ducked behind a dumpster and lifted one of the containers out of the bag, pulling the lid off and gulping it down like a ravenous beast. Blood surged down her throat like manna from heaven and she swallowed greedily even as more of the blood overflowed her lips and ran down her chin, covering her clothes with a thick, deep red layer of hemoglobin.
 
When the first container was empty, she dropped it and started on the second, this time under slightly more control, but still gulping it hungrily. Not even Buffy’s Frappichino that first morning out of the dungeon tasted as sweet as the red, coppery liquid that flowed down her throat. Suddenly, the alley was lit up with a spotlight from a police car and Bess dropped down behind the dumpster quickly and froze in place. As the blood began feeding her plasma-deprived brain, the daze and confused state she’d been in started to clear and she began to realize that it wasn’t the Council that had imprisoned her, but the police, and that the time she spent with Buffy and Spike was real, not a figment of her imagination … she still couldn’t suss out seeing and hearing Wanda’s voice, not only today, but that first night when she’d been arrested.
 
The police car turned and started driving slowly down the alleyway. As it got near, Bess slithered behind the dumpster, wedging herself between it and the red brick wall behind it, out of view of the approaching car. At the last moment, she realized she’d left the bag and blood containers in plain sight on the back side of the dumpster and she reached out and pulled them into the hiding place just as the car came even with the dumpster. Bess held her breath, not daring to move as the police car stopped and shone its spotlight over the dumpster and up and down the alley looking for the crazed, devil-worshiping drug-addict who had stolen three quarts of blood; at least that’s what the butcher told police had happened.
 
After a few moments, the car began to move again, finally exiting the alley and continuing its search on the service road behind the storefronts. When she was sure it was gone, she let out a long, relived breath, but didn’t move from her hiding place for some time. As she cowered in the cramped space, Bess thought about everything that had happened, about the time spent with the Weckerly’s, how she had tried to fit into their mold and be someone they could be proud of, but had, in the end, failed. She could remember screaming at Buffy, telling her that she was not her mother …  
 
Bess closed her eyes against the tears that stung them, how that must’ve hurt the woman that had risked everything to save her, she was just so sure that Buffy was going to send her away that night for what she’d done; her fragile ego felt like it had to strike first – protect itself the only way it knew how, by throwing the first punch. Since the night that Buffy said she could get a job, Bess had gone looking for one every day – a real job, one she could tell her parents about. She put in applications all over town, but most places weren’t hiring, and even those that were had twenty applicants that were more qualified than her.
 
“You need to get your GED,” one man down at the docks had advised her, before crumpling up her application and tossing it in the garbage. She didn’t understand why she needed to know how to do math with the alphabet when all they were doing was unloading cargo from ships …
 
“It shows that you’re not a quitter, that you’re capable of learning … that you got half a brain between them pretty little ears,” the man explained. “Don’t need any prissy girly-girls down here anyway,” he muttered as he turned away and went back to his paperwork.
 
That was when she decided to do something she was perfectly qualified for – overqualified perhaps … and Buffy had caught her on her very first night.
 
Bess sighed heavily then listened carefully before shimmying out from behind the dumpster, careful not to spill the last container of blood. That still didn’t explain her break from reality on the night she was arrested … it seemed perfectly clear to her now – it was just the police. If she had only cooperated with her attorney, she could’ve been out a full month earlier. But it seemed she was incapable of rational thought at the time …
 
Bess sat down on the dirty ground next to the dumpster and opened the last quart of blood and began sipping it slowly … and then it occurred to her. She hadn’t had any blood since the day she heard Buffy tell Willow that Bess’ blood and chocolate was costing too much (that’s what Bess’ heart heard, anyway) … that had been over a week before she’d run away. The night she was arrested she’d already gone three weeks without a sip of blood … she had been in jail for two months after that with only the occasional raw hamburger to feed her demon ...
 
Bess shook her head. No wonder it had been so easy for her mind to wander off into its own little world … it had already started starving for hemoglobin. But why didn’t the demon demand blood? Why wasn’t it more adamant? She could’ve easily overpowered one of the guards at the jail or even another prisoner and taken what she needed …
 
Then the sound of Wanda’s voice rang in her ears from the night she was arrested, Be still, child; don’t fight. You’re a fine, sweet girl … you don’t want to hurt anyone. Was that what had stopped her from fighting against the officers? Was that her mother’s arms around her, holding her still, keeping her from hurting them? Was that what kept her from feeding even as she got hungrier and hungrier ... on the verge of starvation? Or was it her soul?
 
She’d never taken a life … not a human life … well, not before the battle to escape from the dungeon, and not out of demonic blood lust. Even before the dungeon she’d only killed other vampires; taken their cold, tainted blood to satisfy her hunger and soothe her vindictive heart; after her capture, she’d only fed on animal blood. Maybe it was simply habit that kept her from hunting, even in the jail … or maybe it was a combination of everything, she didn’t know.
 
Bess sat the container of blood down and lifted her fingers to her nose again. Although they were covered with blood and dirt now, the unmistakable fragrance of Lily of the Valley still remained under it all. Bess closed her eyes and tried to remember what Wanda had said in the car earlier … had that really been her mother or was she hallucinating again? She wasn’t sure, but she was pretty certain she wasn’t hallucinating now, and her vampire nose never lied.
 
Bess concentrated on the scent, her eyes closed, taking herself back to her mother’s words. “Follow your heart and it will lead you home. Trust in yourself and you’ll find your way back to the ones that love you,” Bess spoke them aloud as they came back to her.
 
She opened her eyes and looked up at the clear night sky as tears streaked her face. “It’s too late, Mommy … I … I hurt them too much. I couldn’t be what they wanted…I can’t go back now,” she cried up to the sky before curling herself up into a tight ball on the dirty, garbage and blood stained pavement of the alley and crying for the family she’d lost … both families that she’d lost.
 
**~**
 
Sometime after midnight, Bess pulled herself up off the hard pavement – her tears had run dry long ago. She stood in the alley and took a deep breath as she tried to figure out what to do now. The only thing she could think to do was get the Harley, although she didn’t know how she would be able to pay the rest of the bill for the new engine. Bess leaned down and picked up the rest of the blood she hadn’t drunk earlier and downed it quickly, then started walking back towards Sammy’s garage. Maybe … maybe she could talk him into letting her owe him the rest of the money and she’d send it to him when she got it.
 
**~**
 
(The next morning) Tuesday, September 14th, 2010, 8:30am, Renaldo, Oklahoma:
 
Bess woke from a dreamless sleep when someone shook her shoulder. She had curled up against the door to the garage the previous night to wait for morning. She moaned tiredly and turned over to face the sun and her ‘alarm clock.’
 
“Good Lord Almighty damn!” Sammy exclaimed when she turned to face him. “Who the hell beat you up?”
 
“Huh?” Bess questioned as she sat up and rubbed her eyes.
 
“You’re covered in blood! I came lookin’ for ya last night when ya stood me up … Lord, I’m sorry … I shoulda kept lookin! Figured ya’ just changed yer mind ‘bout dinner,” Sammy exclaimed as he helped her up to her feet.
 
“Oh … Uhhh … No, I’m alright … I just … uhhhh, fell down and got dirty,” Bess stammered as she stood up.
 
“Dirty?! Girl, I seen dirty ‘fore … that ain’t dirty – that there's beat up!” Sammy insisted as he unlocked the door to the garage and guided her in.
 
“Really … I’m fine,” Bess assured him as he steered her to a chair and urged her to sit down.
 
“Do ya’ want me to call the Sheriff? File a report?” Sammy offered. “Not that they could catch cold in snow drift, bless their hearts…” he admitted, shaking his head.
 
“NO! No … no police. Honestly, I just fell down and … there must’ve been blood on the ground or something. I’m fine,” Bess insisted, standing up and moving her arms and legs to demonstrate her ‘fineness’.
 
Sammy looked at her doubtfully, but finally shrugged his acceptance of her story. “I’ll see if Suzy-Q left anything here that’ll fit ya…” he offered, heading to the back room of the shop.
 
“Who’s Suzy-Q?” Bess wondered as she followed him.
 
“My little sister … best little grease monkey you’d ever wanna see,” Sammy offered with pride and affection, then his voice sobered. “Run off last year … only fifteen – said she had to go, wouldn’t tell me why or where. Got one letter from her – postmark said Detroit … says she’s ok, not much else. Never could understand that young-un after she hit puberty …” Sammy admitted, shaking his head. “Our folks died in a car crash when she was ten … I did my darnedest to raise her right, but … reckon it was just too much for her.
 
“Here …” Sammy offered, pulling a pair of jeans and a t-shirt out of a locker in the back room. “These oughtta fit ya. You can clean up in there …” he offered, pointing to the bathroom.
 
Bess thanked him and headed into the bathroom to wash off and change. He’d been so nice, she dreaded having to tell him that she didn’t have the money to pay him for the work he’d done … and she had no idea how she’d get any money. She had one marketable skill, but she really didn’t want to spend any more time in jail.
 
When Bess came out of the bathroom, cleaned up and changed into Suzy’s clothes, she waited in the office for Sammy to finish talking with a customer. She paced nervously back and forth across the worn linoleum on the floor, trying to figure out how to tell him that she didn’t have the rest of the money for the bike.
 
“Well now, don’t you look prettier ‘an a blue-nosed mule!” Sammy exclaimed when he came into the office. “An’ smell a lot better now, too.”
 
Bess laughed – she’d never been compared to a mule before. She had to agree about the smell … although she hated washing the faint scent of Lily of the Valley from her fingers, the blood on her clothes was starting to reek. “Ummm … Sammy,” she began as he started riffling through the stack of work orders, looking for hers. “I don’t quite know how to tell you this, but … ummm … I don’t have the rest of the money for the motorbike.”
 
“Well, I guess it’s a good thing your guardian angel wired the money to me a while back, ain’t it?” Sammy asked, pulling the receipt out and handing it to her, along with the cash that she’d already paid him.
 
“Who? What? Who?” Bess stammered, absently taking the paper and money from his hand.
 
“Three right good questions,” Sammy admitted. “But I don’t reckon I know … got a phone call from a guy that talked funny, said he was looking for the bike – gave me the tag number … described you. When I told him it was here and what it needed, he said he’d wire the money t’ get it fixed … said it was his fault for not tellin’ ya’ ‘bout the oil leak. Figured it was your daddy or boyfriend…”
 
Bess’ jaw dropped open as she looked down at the receipt marked ‘Paid in Full’ and the nearly $1,200 in cash that she’d already paid Sammy. “How… how did he know where I was? Where to look?” Bess murmured, looking up from the bill to the mechanic.
 
Sammy’s eyes turned worried. “I didn’t mess up did I? I mean … that ain’t a crazed lunatic stalker you’re running from, is it? The way he talked … other than the funny accent, he sounded ok. ‘Course, don’t suppose you can always tell by the way a feller talks…”
 
“No … I, no … it’s ok,” Bess assured him. “I just … I didn’t tell him where I was going and … I didn’t think he’d … care.”
 
“Well, he cares almost three grand worth, with tax…” Sammy pointed out with a shrug. “Boyfriend?”
 
“What? … No…no … just … uhhhh … he’s just a …” Bess’ voice trailed off – what was Spike? Her father? Her friend? Her savior? Just one of the many people she’d let down in her life? Someone whose expectations she’d stomped on and ground into dust under her heel?  
 
“Just someone I used to know,” she finally finished, stuffing the money down into the pocket of her jeans and folding the receipt and putting it in her purse.
 
“Ya know … it’s really none of my business, but … you should call him. He sounded worried about ya. Soon as he knew the bike was here, he asked about you before he did the bike…wanted to make sure you were alright,” Sammy advised. “I know I sure spent a mess o’ sleepless nights worrying ‘bout Suzy-Q after she runned off. If she’d a’ just called, or written more … let me know she was ok, it would’ve ... well, it wouldn’t have made me stop fretting ‘bout her, but it woulda helped just a tad.”
 
Bess nodded solemnly. “Perhaps.”
 
**~**
 
(Later that day) Tuesday, September 14th, 2010, Ft. Smith, Arkansas:
 
Bess pulled the Harley off I-40 at a rest stop then retrieved the US map that Sammy had given her out of one saddlebag and studied it again. When she started this trek, her goal had been Philadelphia … she just wanted to go home, but what did she really expect to find there? She shook her head, she didn’t know … she really didn’t know what do to now or where to go. What had seemed so clear to her before now just seemed … hopeless. Certainly there was nothing left in Philadelphia for her now … so many years later.
 
As Bess scanned the map her eyes kept being drawn north, to Cleveland. Something about it seemed ... right. What had her mother said? Follow your heart? And hadn’t Spike advised her more than once to listen to her gut? She took a deep breath, her decision made … she folded the map and put it back in the pannier and cranked the bike up. Cleveland it was.
 
 
Early morning hours Friday, September 17th, 2010, Terre Haute, Indiana:

 

Bess had taken her time as she headed north towards Cleveland, not wanting to risk getting a ticket … and Sammy told her to keep the speed down until the new engine had been ‘broken in’… she didn’t quite understand that, but she wasn’t in any big hurry now anyway. She’d stopped a few times, taking side trips into small mid-western towns along her route, sampling pecan pies and peach cobblers; in one small town diner she had a chocolate cheesecake that could be described as nothing but heavenly … so good, she ate three pieces. She also made sure that she didn’t go too long without blood … she’d learned that lesson the hard way.
 
She’d been sleeping outside under the stars, parking the bike off the road and just sleeping on the ground next to it, but she was starting to get grimy and dirty. She’d found that most people pretty much didn’t like to deal with people that looked like something the cat dragged in, so this night she stopped at a rat-trap 'motor-lodge', which espoused 'Air Conditioned Rooms' as its big drawing card on a faded sign out front, and got a room. She took a long, hot shower/bath combo … her favorite, and washed her clothes in the sink and now she was flipping through the channels on the telly, looking for something to watch before falling asleep. At this hour of the night, there wasn’t much on … lots of infomercials and preachers, both of which promising more than they could ever possibly deliver.
 
Bess stopped her channel surfing abruptly when she heard a familiar voice … John Cleese. She sat up in the bed and watched with a furrowed brow … it wasn’t Monty Python … it was something called Fawlty Towers. Bess watched the comedy, laughing at the silly, dry humor of the old show. Her mind involuntarily drifted back to the time spent with Spike and Buffy in London and how much they’d helped her and what they’d sacrificed to find her and get her out of the dungeon. Bess looked over at the bedside phone as Sammy’s advice echoed in her head; she should call home, let them know she was ok … thank Spike for paying for the repairs to the Harley, perhaps promise to pay him back as soon as she could.
 
Bess turned the TV down and picked up the phone, then took a deep breath and dialed the number they’d made her memorize on the long flight from London to L.A.
 
The phone rang … once, twice, three times … after the fourth ring it went to the answering machine. Tears welled in Bess’ eyes as Buffy’s cheerful voice came on the line…

“Twinkle, Twinkle little star,
bet you’re wondering where we are!
Well, put your mouth up to the phone,
And leave us a message for when we get home.
And if you can make your message rhyme,
We'll call you back in half the time!!!”

Bess bit her lip … suddenly not sure what to say. When the answering machine beeped, she panicked and slammed the phone back down on the receiver. She remembered when Buffy had recorded that message … Annie complained that their answering machine had the most boring message ‘in the world’, so Buffy challenged the kids to come up with something better … and they did. All four of them worked on it for over an hour to get it to rhyme – they were so excited about it. They all stood by, waiting excitedly, as Buffy tried to change the announcement on the machine; she'd been laughing so much that it took her four times before she could get through the whole thing without cracking up at their silly poem.
 
Now the laughter in Buffy's voice grated against the very air in the dingy room, like fingernails across a chalkboard. The warm, happy feeling that memory inspired in Bess faded to a harsh loneliness that chilled her from the inside out. She sunk down in the bed and pulled the blanket up over her head, wrapping it tightly around her body to try and hide from the barren, empty feeling – but it wasn’t something she could escape. The sudden, overwhelming sadness followed her into her cocoon and painful cracks seared her heart with a bitter cold. That life, those memories, felt so very far away now, too far to touch, too damaged to repair. As much as she tried to deny it, to forget them, to embrace her ‘aloneness’, the stark truth was that she missed them … she missed them all so much. But it was too late for that now...
 
**~**

{{Click here to hear “2000 Light Years From Home” by The Rolling Stones on YouTube  }}

Sun turnin' 'round with graceful motion
We're setting off with soft explosion
Bound for a star with fiery oceans
It's so very lonely, you're a hundred light years from home


Freezing red deserts turn to dark
Energy here in every part
It's so very lonely, you're six hundred light years from home


It's so very lonely, you're a thousand light years from home
It's so very lonely, you're a thousand light years from home


Bell flight fourteen you now can land
Seen you on Aldebaran, safe on the green desert sand
It's so very lonely, you're two thousand light years from home
It's so very lonely, you're two thousand light years from home
End Notes:
TBC ... More with Bess coming up ... need to find out about the big, scary rats in her dreams ... then back to Sunnyhell for the Ritual Sacrifice with Pie...
Wishes and Stars by Passion4Spike
Author's Notes:
Bess followed her heart and has arrived at the Hellmouth in Cleveland – what will she encounter here?
**
Music Referenced:
Wishes and Stars, Harper Simon (Paul Simon's son) http://youtu.be/oW1sIo9wjI4
 **
ScreenCaps courtesy of ScreenCap Paradise: http://www.screencap-paradise.com/?cat=3
**
Thanks to 'epd4' for betaing this chapter - any mistakes are mine because I can't stop fiddling ...
 (ten days later), Early morning hours Tuesday, September 28th, 2010, Cleveland, Ohio:

 

Bess pulled the Harley up in front of a massive, old, stone building on the college campus in Cleveland, Ohio and cut the engine. Her body thrummed with energy … and it wasn’t from the rumble of the Harley, it was from a powerful dark force and it seemed to be emanating from the historic building in front of her. She knew that feeling, she’d felt it before – in Sunnydale. It was a Hellmouth, she had no doubt. She’d spent a long time meandering up from Indiana without any real route mapped out, just heading generally northeast, stopping when she felt like it, riding when she felt like it, sitting under trees or in small town diners when she felt like it. Now that she was here, she wasn’t really sure what she should do next.
 
Suddenly, the hairs on the back of Bess’ neck prickled and stood on end and a warning tingled down her spine. In one motion, she jumped off the motorcycle, dropping it on its side with a bang and a crunch, and retrieved the stake from the waistband of her jeans as she twirled and faced the threat, ready to strike.
 
Behind her was a petite, freckle-faced strawberry-blonde, not much larger or older than Bess … also holding a stake, also poised to strike.
 
“Jiminy-Christmas!” the girl exclaimed with a thick southern drawl, standing up out of her crouch and lowering her stake. “I’da sworn you were of the undead persuasion! Ya’ cain’t hardly swing a dead cat around here without hittin’ one!”
 
Bess furrowed her brow slightly and lowered her stake, as well. Why would you swing a dead cat?
 
“You must be new here,” the southerner continued. “I’m Sue-Ann,” she offered, switching her stake to her left hand and extending her right.
 
“Bess …” the Slayer-vamp replied, taking her hand and shaking it.
 
“My Lord! You’re colder ‘an a witches’ titty in a brass bra!” Sue-Ann exclaimed. “I was just headin’ back to the dorm, you can warm up there … I’ll show ya,” the girl offered.
 
“Oh … uhhh – dorm?” Bess questioned.
 
“Yeah, well, that’s what we call it – it’s actually just a big ole house that we all share to save on expenses…” Sue-Ann explained as she moved over to help Bess pick the bike up off the pavement.
 
“Oh … are there a lot of Slayers here?” Bess questioned as they set the bike back on its wheels.
 
“You cain’t swing a dead cat without hittin’ one…” Sue-Ann quipped.
 
“Do you swing dead cats often?” Bess wondered, looking at the Slayer a little strangely as she lowered the kickstand and set the bike up on it.
 
Sue-Ann laughed easily. “I reckon not … just, you know, if you want to hit a vamp or a Slayer.
 
“Nice bike…” the girl commented, looking it over. “Oh … the clutch handle’s tore up…” Sue-Ann noticed when they got the bike righted.
 
Bess sighed and picked up the broken handle off the ground.
 
“That’s my bad for sneakin' up on you … I’ll get ya a new one and fix it for you tomorrow,” Sue-Ann offered.
 
”Oh … that’s not necessary,” Bess assured her. “I have money…”
 
“No! I gotta insist – it was all my fault! Been a coon’s age since I worked on one of these … it’d tickle me pink t’ work on one again!”
 
“Well … if you insist,” Bess agreed hesitantly … not sure how long a ‘coon’s age’ was or just how long you had to be tickled in order to turn pink. “You … you’ve worked on motorbikes before?”
 
“Oh, sure! I used to help my bro…” Sue-Ann started, then shrugged. “It was in my other life.”
 
“Your other life?” Bess questioned as Sue-Ann took the Harley down off the kickstand and started pushing it towards the ‘dorm’.
 
“Yeah, you know … when I was just normal and didn’t swing dead cats…” she explained with an easy smile.
 
Bess furrowed her brow and looked more closely at the girl. “Don’t you … see your family anymore?”
 
“Naaa … when my Watcher came and … well, you know … I just high-tailed it out of there … That hick town I grew up in,” Sue-Ann explained shaking her head. “They woulda whuped me like a rented mule an’ burned me at the stake if they found out I was … supernatural ... as in, devil spawn.”
 
“But surely your family would’ve understood. You didn’t even tell him where you were going … you never even called,” Bess argued. The family resemblance was unmistakable now that Bess really looked – this was Suzy-Q … Sammy’s sister, Bess had no doubt.
 
Sue-Ann stopped and looked at her. “I never told him?” she questioned, looking at Bess suspiciously.  “How did…”
 
Them …” Bess corrected, interrupting her. “You never told them… your family.”
 
Sue-Ann narrowed her eyes slightly, then turned and started pushing the bike again. “My family’s done gone … this here’s my family now. Anyhow, I reckon I won’t live to see twenty … he … uhhh … they might as well get used to me being gone.”
 
“But don’t you miss … them?” Bess wondered.
 
Sue-Ann shrugged. “Like naked ‘taters miss gravy…” she admitted. “But that’s not what butters the biscuits now, is it? Gotta play the hand you're dealt.”
 
Bess frowned but didn’t say anything more … she assumed that meant the girl did miss her brother, but wasn’t 100% sure. Sue-Ann had a family … perhaps small as far as families go, but a brother that cared and was worried about her. And Slayers were living longer and longer these days, thanks to them not standing alone but rather working in teams. Even if an early demise was in the offing … it didn’t seem right to Bess for the girl to cut her brother off with barely a word and no explanation at all. If Bess could have even one more day with her family … with Wanda and John, William and Anne … she’d give anything … she’d give her soul for that.
 
When Sue-Ann turned the bike into the driveway of a house just off the college campus, Bess hesitated.
 
“I … uhhh … I wasn’t gonna … ‘check-in’ for a …while,” Bess stammered, not wanting to go into the ‘dorm’ with the girl. First of all, she didn’t think she could handle a house full of Slayers and second of all, she just really wanted to be alone so she could figure some stuff out, and third of all, she wasn’t sure how to explain that she would need to be specifically invited into the house in order to cross the threshold.
 
“Oh, yeah … I get it,” Sue-Ann agreed. “Well … ummm … I’ll get the bike fixed tomorrow – you want me to meet you tomorrow night back at Albert Hall?”
 
“Where?”
 
“That big ole building you were at tonight – the one that’s sittin’ smack dab on top of the Hellmouth…” Sue-Ann explained.
 
“Oh – yeah – ok, sure that sounds fine,” Bess agreed.
 
“Ok – about eleven then?”
 
“Fine, see you then,” Bess agreed as she retrieved her purse from one of the saddlebags and then continued walking down the sidewalk away from the ‘Slayer dorm’.
 
**~**

 

Bess continued down the deserted street, not really having any plan at all. She wandered aimlessly as she pondered the unbelievable coincidence of running into Sammy’s sister … what were the chances of that? A million to one? … Maybe less, but still it seemed almost pre-ordained, fateful; she wondered what it meant, if anything. She kept walking, turning right, then left … then right again and finally finding herself in a rundown industrial area of the city. She picked an empty warehouse at random and went inside to find a place to sleep for the night. She heard rats scurrying around in the dark when she entered the building and she shuddered. She’d never liked rats and the time on the ship going to London only cemented that feeling for her … they were nasty – always running around in the shadows eating other people’s food … and they smelled bad.
 
She had just turned around to leave the warehouse when she heard a loud commotion in the back of the building. She stopped and drew her stake then stalked silently through the abandoned warehouse, stepping lightly over and around the remnants of what used to be a shoe factory, to see what it was … perhaps a nest of vamps or other demons had taken up residence here.
 
Bess had nearly gotten to the back of the large building near the old offices where the sound had come from when she was suddenly attacked. She screamed in surprised fright and jumped back as a rat ran over her foot, followed quickly by a mangy calico kitten that was barely larger than the rat it was chasing. The heel of Bess’ shoe caught on some debris on the floor and she tumbled down backwards onto the dirty floor just as the rat changed directions and headed back towards her. She screamed again and scurried away quickly, but the rat seemed to think she was some kind of a new hiding place and honed in on her.

 

Bess continued to scream, dropping her stake and flailing her arms as she tried desperately to get the nasty, vile creature off her. In her panic, it felt like a hundred rats had descended on her and her screams echoed off the walls of the abandoned building. The frightened rat ran up her leg and crested her shoulder, around her neck and back down one arm. She’d heard her mother talk about people having ‘holy conniption fits’, but she’d never experienced one herself … until now.

Bess finally jumped up and ran screaming from the warehouse, still swatting at the ghost of the rat that she could still feel crawling over her with its nasty little feet and satanically hot tail. She didn’t stop running until she got out into the street, but she was still running her hands over her head and neck, trying to get the feel of rat off her skin.
 
When she finally settled down, she realized that she’d dropped her stake and left it in there … Shit, shit, shit, shit! She considered just leaving it … but it was the one Buffy had given her in London – a memento of their first slay together. Bess stood there and frowned.
 
So what? she tried to tell herself. Just leave it! It’s not like there aren’t a million more just like it. I bet Sue-Ann could get me a new one tomorrow night. Bess blew out a long breath and her shoulders slumped. She picked up a metal pipe that was about three feet long and headed back into the rat-infested warehouse to get her stake.
 
She had no problem finding it when she got back in there … the little kitten that had driven the rat at her was lying on top of it … as if guarding it for her.


 
“Meeeoow,” purred the multi-colored kitten, standing up and wrapping her body and tail first around one of Bess’ ankles then the other in a furry figure-eight.
 
“Meow yourself!” Bess replied to the kitten angrily, picking up her stake and sliding it back into her waistband.
 
“You scared me half to death! You could’ve gotten us both killed!” she chastised the kitten as it started purring loudly, still rubbing round and round her ankles. “Well … I’m actually already dead, but still, that was uncalled for and … gross!”
 
Bess started to walk back out of the warehouse and the kitten darted ahead of her and cut her off, trying to circle her feet and rub against her legs as Bess walked. “You’re dangerous!” Bess informed the kitten as she stepped over her and continued walking. But the kitten was undeterred … it ran ahead again and waited for Bess, jumping out from behind a post and grabbing the bottom of Bess’ jeans with all four feet, then releasing her and running ahead again. Bess laughed as the kitten continued playing its game, running ahead and hiding then jumping out and ambushing her.
 
“I hate to tell you this, but if you couldn’t slay that rat, you aren’t gonna be able to slay me,” Bess informed the kitten as she continued walking.
 
The kitten followed Bess out into the street and when Bess stopped to figure out where to go next, the kitten began purring and circling her legs again, rubbing against her with her head and body.
 
Bess sighed. “You can’t come with me…” she told the kitten. “Believe me, you could do lots better than me!”
 
When the kitten just meowed and continued rubbing her ankles and legs, Bess just shook her head and started walking down the street. “Stay here!” she told the kitten sternly, pointing a finger adamantly at the little fur-ball … but the kitten was still undaunted.
 
Bess began to run, turning corners, jumping over fences, climbing over walls until finally she lost the little kitten. Bess felt bad for doing that … if she was home, maybe Buffy and Spike would’ve let her … Huh?
 
Bess shook her head. Since when had Sunnydale become ‘home’? She took a deep breath and blew it out loudly, dropping that thought and looking around at where she’d ended up. Of course … where else? A cemetery. ‘Lake View Cemetery’ the sign read, ‘Organized 1869’. Humph … at least it was a proper cemetery, with mausoleums and marble and, apparently, a view … because dead people definitely needed a view. Bess wandered around for a while and picked out a nice crypt with a view of the lake … because, well – why not? She was dead … or undead, anyway – that should qualify her for a view. This should work out fine … she’s close to the university and the Hellmouth, and in the center of the prime hunting grounds for newly risen vamps.

 

Bess made herself as comfortable as possible inside the crypt and finally got some shut-eye … although she didn’t really rest well because her dreams were filled with rats … giant, scurrying, scruffy, gross, and filthy rats.
 
**~**
 
Bess woke the next day with a warm, furry sensation against her neck and shoulder. Her first reaction was ‘RAT!’  She involuntarily morphed into the demon as she sat up quickly, crawling like a crab on her butt away from the monster, her yellow eyes wide with fright.
 
“You did it again! You scared me half to death!” she chastised the little calico kitten, which stood up and stretched lazily before beginning to rub happily against Bess’ side, unfrightened and undaunted by her vampire visage. “You know … a person can only take getting scared half to death so often before they actually die!” she informed the kitten tersely.
 
Bess shook the demon down and picked the kitten up, holding it up to eye level. “How did you find me?” Bess wondered, but the kitten only yawned.
 
“What’s your name?” Bess questioned as she tucked the little furry creature under her chin, stroking a hand softly down its back and it began to purr loudly.
 
“I think … I think I’ll call you 'Angel',” Bess decided. “’Cos you’d have to be an angel to want to stay with me.”
 
**~**


 
The little kitten followed Bess out of the crypt, past the lake in the cemetery and down the street a couple of blocks to a shopping district. Bess tucked Angel in her purse and went into the butcher shop. After studying the meats in the display case, she decided on ground beef for the kitten and pig’s blood for herself. On the way back to the crypt she stopped in a 7-11 and got a couple of cans of condensed milk for her new friend and a few chocolate bars, and just in case the kitten liked chocolate, she made sure to get a Milky Way for it.
 
Back at the crypt, Bess opened the canned milk with her fangs and found a small saucer in the crypt that had, at one time, held a candle. Angel lapped happily at the milk and gobbled down some of the hamburger, but only licked a little at the piece of Milky Way bar Bess offered it. With its belly full, looking like it had swallowed a tennis ball, the kitten curled up in Bess’ lap and went to sleep, absently kneading its paws against her leg as it dreamt.
 
Bess smiled and tears stung her eyes as she raked a finger lightly over the little animal. She hoped she could be a better ‘parent’ than she’d been a daughter …
 
**~**
 
“This is a vampire,” Bess explained to the kitten later that night before venturing out of the crypt, morphing into the demon. “GRRRR-ARRRGH!” she growled at the kitten. “You need to watch out for vampires! They’re bad … they’ll eat you!” she warned her little friend, whose name had also morphed … into ‘Sweetie Puddin’ Angelpie’ … or just Angelpie, for short. But the kitten seemed less than frightened by her warnings or her growling and gave her a soft ‘meow’ and rubbed against her leg. Bess sighed and rolled her eyes as she stood up from the floor and started for the door.
 
“Maybe you should stay here,” she suggested to the kitten when she got to the door, but Angelpie had already darted out and was waiting for her on the lawn outside. Bess sighed. “Or not…”
 
Bess and her shadow headed around the lake to the new part of the cemetery and it wasn’t long before she found some fresh graves. She and Angelpie waited nearby to see if any vamps would rise from them, having to duck behind a headstone when a pair of Slayers walked by on their normal patrol. She didn’t have to wait too long, though, for a vamp to emerge. Bess moved over to the grave nearest her hiding place when she saw the soil begin to move as the fledge clawed his way out. Bess morphed into her vampire visage as the newly risen demon stood up, brushing dirt from his burial suit.
 
“Are you my…” the vamp began to ask, but was cut off by Bess’ stake embedding into his heart.
 
“No…” she answered him as he exploded into dust.
 
“Well … that wasn’t very much fun,” she moaned, morphing back to her human features. She looked around for Angelpie, who was waiting for her atop a nearby headstone. “Next time maybe I should give them a fighting chance,” Bess commented as she picked the kitten up and went back to her hiding place to await another adversary.
 
**~**
 
(A month Later), Sunday, October 31st, 2010 - Halloween:
 
Bess and her shadow, Angelpie, had settled into a comfortable routine in Cleveland, living in the crypt with a view, sleeping during the day and hunting vamps at night. As promised, Sue-Ann had fixed the Harley and had kept her promise to not tell the other Slayers or Watchers that Bess was in town. Bess and Sue-Ann would talk almost every night about everything and nothing at all – about families left behind and their ‘old life’ and what they wished could be, things they wished they could change, words they wished they could take back, mistakes they wished they hadn’t made. But all those wishes were like the vampires they slew every night – nothing more than dust in the wind. There were more wishes than stars, and none of the stars, it seemed, were shining down on the two Slayers who’d put their families behind them.
 
Despite Bess thinking that her little calico friend hadn’t been paying attention when she tried to teach her what a vampire was, Angelpie proved to have an innate sense of when to stay out of the way and when it was safe to make a nuisance of herself by circling Bess’ feet or jumping out from behind headstones and statuary and ‘attacking’ her. Angelpie had quickly become Bess’ best friend and they literally spent every waking and sleeping moment together. The Slayer-vamp set up a little bed for Angelpie in one of the saddlebags on the Harley and the kitten would curl up in there and purr along with the rumble of the motorcycle whenever Bess went for a ride.
 
On this night, All Hallow’s Eve, the cemetery was deader than usual, in a good way – all the vamps and demons seemed to be taking the night off. Bess hadn’t even seen any Slayers on patrol tonight – not even Sue-Ann, so she decided to take her sidekick for a ride out along the lakeshore … oh, not the little lake in the cemetery – the BIG lake … Lake Erie. It was as close to an ocean as she could get here in Ohio and she enjoyed riding along the shoreline … it reminded her a little of California and Troy and … other people that she was working on just forgetting.
 
As Bess maneuvered through the streets around the campus, she was amazed at the number of people out in costume … not children, because it was much too late for children – adults, students. They all seemed to be coming from and going to parties with their friends. Laughing and singing and just being irresponsible for a little while longer before they got kicked out into the ‘real world’. Her mind involuntarily drifted back to Sunnydale and she wondered what Annie, Dani, JJ, and Billy were doing now. What had they been for Halloween? Did they have a party or go trick-or-treating? Were they laughing and having fun? Were they thinking about her at all or had Bess become just a distant memory?
 
Billy continued to show up in Bess’ dreams and she continued to ignore him. He never approached her since that first time when she shoved him out in the rain and told him to get out and stay out; instead he tried to stay off to the edge of her mind, out of the line of fire. Sometimes she wished he would talk to her again … come out of the shadows and tell her … Tell her what? Tell her that they still thought of her? Tell her that she could come back? Tell her there was someone in this world that cared about her … that knew she existed? But he never did and Bess never approached him … what if what he told her to never come back, just like she’d done him? What if he said they never thought of her anymore? What if he only confirmed what she already knew – she’d burned that bridge … in fact, she had blown it to smithereens with a truckload of well placed dynamite.
 
Sue-Ann had talked Bess into calling Crawford Street a few times over the last month, but she could never get the nerve to say anything, not to the answering machine or even to Buffy herself when she answered – Bess always just hung up. Sue-Ann couldn’t say much about that, because she couldn’t muster the courage to say anything when Bess talked her into calling Sammy, either. What do you say? What words would be enough?
 
As Bess drove slowly down the ‘party-row’ of restaurants, bars, and clubs near the campus, a warning tingled down her spine. She looked around and saw a group of girls that she knew, just by looking at them, were Slayers coming out of a club just up ahead of her. They were all dressed up in costumes: a mummy, a zombie, an angel, a devil, and a Dallas Cowboys cheerleader. As Bess continued moving slowly down the crowded street, she saw the cheerleader drop away from the other girls, her hand over her mouth as if to stop herself from throwing up, and head quickly down a side alleyway.
 
Suddenly Bess’ stomach tightened and the hairs on the back of her neck stood up. As she passed the dark alley where the girl went, she looked down it, but only saw the girl, heaving near a dumpster. Bess continued driving, shrugging off the warning as she wove slowly through the partiers on her way to the shoreline. As she drove away, Spike’s words from London drifted uncalled into her mind…
 
You have to learn to listen to your gut, listen to your heart … follow your instincts. You do it when you’re fightin’ … I’ve seen it,” Spike preached. “One day, it may be the only thing that’ll keep you alive – don’t ignore it or it’ll stop talkin’ to you.”
 
Bess frowned and turned the bike around, making a U-turn in the middle of the road then turning into the alley where the girl had gone. Bess pursed her lips in confusion … the girl wasn’t there – but then she heard it, someone yelling for help. Bess dropped the kickstand quickly and jumped off the bike, retrieving her stake from the saddlebag where it was being guarded by a purring Angelpie, and headed quickly down the dark, narrow side street.
 
Behind a group of dumpsters, which had been set up in a semi-circle to form a shield, Bess found the source of the screams. The cheerleader-Slayer was trying to fight off a nest of eight hungry vamps, but losing badly. The skimpy costume had left no hiding place for a stake – she was unarmed, overmatched, and alone. Bess’ own mind flashed back to the Tower Gardens in London and the fight that had turned her from a Slayer to a victim to a demon, and she momentarily froze as fear gripped her heart.
 
She didn’t know how long she stood there, unable to move, unable to even speak or scream for help … it could’ve been a second or a minute. She was brought out of her trance by Angelpie, hissing and screeching behind her. Bess turned in time to see her kitten launch itself at a vamp that had snuck around the dumpsters and was approaching her from the rear, a dagger in his hand and a venomous, predatory look in his yellow, demonic eyes.
 
Bess screamed, “NOOOOOOOOO!” when the vamp slung Angelpie off him and the little fur-ball hit the red brick wall of the alley with a sickening thud and slid lifelessly to the ground.
 
Bess morphed into the demon and lunged at the vamp that had thought he’d found himself another Halloween treat, and she quickly turned the treat into a trick. His eyes went wide with surprise when the stake embedded into his heart and he dissolved into a cloud of dust. Even as that vamp’s features still hung in the air like a demonic dust bunny, Bess whirled on the other attackers in the alley. The one that was atop the cheerleader was the first to go, sprinkling the girl on the ground with a thin layer of hope that help had arrived.
 
As the other vamps turned away from their original victim towards Bess, she jumped and twirled in the air, kicking the one to her right with a vicious roundhouse kick that sent him hurtling back against the wall, hitting with the same sickening thud that her baby had – but Bess didn’t hear it. She vented her rage on the other vamps, taking them all on with kicks and punches and roars of anger and grief – moving faster than even their enhanced eyesight could see, striking with more power than they could withstand.
 
When the last vamp’s dusty visage hung in the electrically charged air of the alley, Bess sprinted towards Angelpie, picking her limp body up with a gentleness that belied the vicious massacre she’d just meted out. As Bess held her baby against her chest with one arm, she roared the Harley out of the alley. With only one hand on the handlebars, she couldn’t brake … but she had no intentions of braking for anyone or anything anyway as she sped through the crowded street, sending mummies and demons, devils and angels and even a few dead presidents scurrying out of her path.
 
At the Slayer dorm, Bess dropped the bike on the lawn and rushed to the door, banging on it frantically and splintering the wood before someone opened it. “Sue-Ann! Sue-Ann!” she screamed through the door, barely remembering to force the demon down before it opened. “Help me! Where’s Sue-Ann!?” she demanded of the girl that opened the door.
 
In just a moment, Sue-Ann appeared at the door and came outside. “Bess! What is it, what happened?”
 
“It’s Angelpie … she’s … oh God …,” Bess sunk to her knees on the porch, still cradling the small life against her chest.
 
“Oh God …” Sue-Ann cried, dropping down next to her. “Is she …??”
 
Bess looked up with tears streaming down her face. “She’s alive … her heart … I can hear it … but…”
 
Sue-Ann jumped up. “Let’s go!” she screamed at Bess, heading for the Harley. The small strawberry-blonde picked the bike up like it weighed nothing, got on and cranked it up as Bess got on behind her. Bess gently stroked and cooed to Angelpie as Sue-Ann expertly maneuvered the bike across the college campus, bisecting the university grounds, ignoring roads and opting for the open lawns and deserted sidewalks to get to the emergency vet on the opposite side.
 
Bess jumped off the Harley before Sue-Ann even had it completely stopped and rushed into the vet’s office, screaming at them to help her. One of the assistants came out and took Angelpie from Bess’ hands and headed back to the treatment rooms with her, Bess following frantically on the girl’s heels.
 
“What happened … a car?” the assistant asked.
 
“No a vam…” Bess began hysterically just as Sue-Ann entered the room and interrupted her.
 
“Van! ... A van,” her friend explained to the young woman in surgical scrubs who was looking the kitten over. Sue-Ann held Bess back as the assistant examined Angelpie’s abdomen, chest, and head, then legs and hips…
 
The young woman shook her head as she listened to the small kitten’s heart with a stethoscope and the vet came into the room. “She’s got internal bleeding … a broken hip, broken leg … her skull’s cracked, some ribs feel broken too,” the assistant informed the vet.
 
The vet looked at Bess sympathetically. “I’m sorry … the humane thing would be to put her down…”
 
“Put her down…?” Bess murmured, her eyes wide with fear. “What … what does that mean? You want to kill her!?? NO! No! She’s alive … fix her!”
 
Sue-Ann put an arm over Bess’ shoulders. “They can’t always fix …”
 
“NO!!” Bess screamed, looking from Sue-Ann back to the vet. “Fix her! She’s alive – she’ll fight, I know it! Fix her!”
 
“It would really be more humane…”
 
“DO YOU NOT SPEAK ENGLISH!?” Bess shrieked at the vet, gold flashing in her eyes as she fought to keep her demon down. “FIX HER!”
 
The vet looked between the hysterical girl and her supportive friend and sighed. “It will be quite expensive and …”
 
“I don’t care! I have money!” Bess informed them “Here! Here! Take it all! Here!” she cried, pulling all her money out of her pockets and dropping over a thousand dollars on the examining table. “I can get more! Whatever it takes, fix her!” Bess insisted again through hysterical sobs which had started to wrack her thin frame.
 
The vet nodded in resignation to the assistant and the girl picked the limp body of the little calico up and headed back to the surgery with her. “It will be some time before we know anything…” the vet informed Bess. “Try … try to relax … and keep this for now,” he told her, waving a hand at the money before following the assistant and Angelpie out of the exam room.
 
Bess sunk down onto a chair in the room and buried her face in her hands and cried. Sue-Ann sat down next to her and wrapped an arm over the girl’s shoulder and Bess leaned against her friend as she did something that she hadn’t done with any conviction in over a century: prayed for mercy to a God she wasn’t even sure existed.
 
The vet came back a couple of hours later and Bess jumped up from her seat. “I think we have her stabilized…” he informed the girls and Bess let out a sigh of relief. “She’s still not out of the woods. There was a lot of internal bruising and bleeding … she may never walk right – her hip and leg were damaged badly and she’ll be in quite a lot of pain while she heals … she may always be in pain.”
 
Bess nodded. “She’s strong, she’ll fight,” Bess repeated. “… and we can give her … aspirin or ... ummm Tylenol, right? For the pain?” she asked, remembering what Buffy had given Dani one time when she fell out a tree and hurt her elbow.
 
The vet shrugged. “It will probably take more than that, but … yeah,” he agreed. “If she makes it through the night, then we’ll see – we’ll go from there.”
 
“Can I see her now?” Bess asked, looking at the door.
 
“She’s sedated – she needs to rest. Come back tomorrow night…” he began.
 
“But, if she wakes up and I’m not here she’ll worry,” Bess argued … well, really it was more of a plea.
 
The vet shook his head. “She won’t wake up, we have her heavily sedated … come back tomorrow night, ok?”
 
“C’mon, Bess … I’ll see ya home,” Sue-Ann offered gently. Bess frowned but nodded and started to follow her friend out.
 
“Thank you,” she offered to the vet, turning back around.
 
The vet nodded. “I hope it wasn’t all for nothing.”
 
**~**
 
Bess dropped Sue-Ann back at the Slayer dorm … her friend invited Bess to stay the night there, but Bess declined, thanking her for her all her help. Bess would’ve had no idea where to take the kitten … she knew where the people-hospital was, but she also knew that was not the right place, although if Sue-Ann hadn’t been there, that’s where Bess would’ve taken Angelpie.
 
Bess told her friend that she’d see her tomorrow and headed out. She first started towards the cemetery, but changed direction and ended up going back to the vet hospital. By now it was 8am and the emergency/after-hours hospital was closed for the day, but, of course, that didn’t deter Bess.
 
The Slayer-vamp found a small window that wasn’t quite closed; it was up high – probably eight feet off the ground, presumably safe from break-ins and too small for someone to fit through … unless you’re a petite, determined Slayer. She jumped up and grabbed onto the windowsill, pulled the screen out, and pushed the window the rest of the way up with one hand as she hung on with the other. Finally, she pulled herself up through the small opening … shimming her shoulders through, first one, then the other on a diagonal. When she was halfway through, her hips caught in the opening and she had to kick her feet and turn her body diagonally again, but finally her bottom half slipped through and she fell to the tile floor of the restroom at the back of the building.
 
Bess found Angelpie sleeping in one of the surgical recovery cages. Her little body looked so helpless and battered laying there with an IV tube taped to her little arm, the whole side of her body had been shaved and a long incision ran nearly the whole length of her abdomen.
 
Bess opened the cage and sat down on the floor next to her as tears leaked from her eyes again. She gently touched a finger to the kitten’s back and stroked softly down her body, careful to stay away from her broken ribs and hip.
 
“Why didn’t you stay with the bike?” Bess asked her softly. “Why are you such a pain in the ass? You’ve been nothing but trouble since the minute I met you…” Bess chastised her quietly as tears streamed down her cheeks. “You just like scaring me … is that it? You probably think this is funny, don’t you?” Bess questioned as she continued caressing her little friend.
 
Angelpie began to purr lightly in her sleep and Bess smiled and nodded. “That’s what I thought … you’re enjoying putting me through agony. You’re a creep!” Bess accused. “A brave little furry, kitteny-creep that probably saved my sorry skin and that Slayer…”
 
Bess leaned her head against the open cage door and closed her eyes. She was so very tired … all the adrenaline and energy she’d expended earlier seemed to catch up with her in a wave of utter exhaustion. Bess fell asleep sitting on the cool linoleum floor of the vet’s office, leaning against her baby’s ‘hospital bed’, still stroking a finger softly against Angelpie’s back, even in her sleep.
 
**~**
 
The vet assistant was startled, to say the least, when she came back a couple of hours later to check on their patients, and found someone sleeping in amongst the cages, but calmed down quickly when she realized who it was. She hated to wake Bess, but had to in order to check on Angelpie. Bess apologized for breaking in, but begged the young veterinary assistant to please let her stay and the girl finally agreed.
 
Over the next couple of weeks, as Angelpie recuperated, Bess became a fixture at the vet’s office and they soon put her to work, helping with cleanup and feeding of their patients, and restraining larger animals, since Bess seemed to be able to control them even when the vet and the assistant together could not. They finally took Angelpie off the sedatives and the little kitty woke up from her long, recuperative sleep in Bess’ arms. She still couldn’t walk and they had to keep her on painkillers, which made her a little loopy, but she was alive and she was awake and she knew Bess immediately, greeting her with a soft ‘meow’ and a low purr. Bess thought she’d never heard anything as sweet as that sound.
 
(Three weeks since Halloween), Thursday, November 18th, 2010:
 
Since Bess had gotten so good at taking care of Angelpie, the vet’s office released the little kitten into her care a few days ago. Bess continued spending many hours at the office, though, to help pay the unbelievably high bill … and because she’d come to like the people there, as well as the patients that came through – all damaged in some way, all in need of help – she could relate. It felt good to help them and see them get better. Of course, they didn’t all get better and Bess mourned for the ones that were lost, but the victories outweighed the losses.
 
“Did you have to go to school a long time to be a vet?” she asked Dr. Lowenbram one evening.
 
“Oh, not too long,” he told her. “Four years of undergraduate study and four additional years of veterinary medicine.”
 
Bess made an ‘eeek’ face that he couldn’t see. Not TOO long? Humph. “You must be pretty smart…” Bess commented as she started cleaning out one of the dog cages and changing the bedding.
 
The vet shrugged. “Takes determination and desire more than anything, I think. There are lots of smart people, but if you don’t really love it, you’ll never stick it out.”
 
“You have to be smart, first, though … I’m not very smart,” she admitted.
 
Dr. Lowenbram furrowed his brow. “I don’t know … you seem pretty bright to me – you’ve picked everything up that Darlene and I have shown you … and you have a big heart – you work hard and you try harder.”
 
Bess shrugged. “I can do stuff if you show me … but I’m not book smart,” she explained.
 
“Maybe you just weren’t motivated to be ‘book smart’ before,” the doctor suggested, drawing another shrug from Bess.
 
“Maybe.”
 
 
(Next Day), Friday, November 19th, 2010, 10am:
 
Bess woke from her nightmare with a jerk, her chest heaved with exertion and fear gripped her heart. She’d dreamed there was a huge fire at the mansion on Crawford Street … the whole Weckerly clan was trapped inside and only Bess could save them – but she couldn’t. There was a wall around the house and no matter how fast or far she climbed, she could never crest the top of it. Her head was always right at the top, able to see over, but she could never actually climb over. Then, as she climbed and climbed up the cold, stone face of the wall, trying desperately to get to them, the house morphed into her childhood home in Philadelphia. Wanda, John, William, and Anne were at the windows, screaming at her to help them, but no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t get over the wall and flames engulfed the house with her family inside.
 
Angelpie stood up slowly from where she’d been sleeping next to Bess and leaned her body against the Slayer-vamp, rubbing down the girl’s leg with her side. Angelpie still wasn’t 100%, but her bones were mended and she was off the pain medication. She had a discernible limp on her back right leg, but she was starting to get her old spunk back and had begun her ambush attacks of Bess, hiding behind the sarcophagus in the crypt and jumping out at her while Bess pretended to not see her.
 
Bess picked the kitten up and held her against her chest, tucking her furry head under her chin and stroking a hand down her body. The hair that had been shaved for surgery had grown back out and she almost looked ‘normal’ again, except for that limp, which the vet said may never go away, but Bess hadn’t given up on that yet, either. Darlene had shown her some exercises to do with Angelpie, like physical therapy for cats, and Bess worked with her little friend religiously three and four times a day to help her get her mobility back in that hip.
 
Bess took comfort in Angelpie’s low purr against her skin as she tried to sort out what the dream meant. After much internal debate, she finally decided that she needed to be moving on … she needed to go to Philadelphia, just like she’d planned to do all those months ago when she’d stolen Spike’s Harley and ran off. The dream was some kind of signal … it was time to go.
 
**~**
 
(Next Day), Saturday, November 19th, 2010, 10pm:
 
Bess had said goodbye to her friends at the vet’s office the previous night and they made her promise to write or call and keep in touch. Dr. Lowenbram gave her $250 for the work she’d done over the last three weeks. Bess knew that even after giving him nearly all the money she had and adding on all the work she did, that she probably didn’t even begin to cover the vet bill for Angelpie, so she tried to refuse the charity – but he insisted.
 
“If you come back through here, you can work another week and we’ll be even…” he told her with a smile before giving her a hug. “You’re a smart girl, Bess … you can be anything you want to be. Don’t sell yourself short.”
 
Bess thanked him and told him that she would be back one day … it was a promise.
 
Now Bess sat on her Harley parked across the street from where she and Sue-Ann normally met for patrol – in the quad of the university, halfway between the Slayer ‘dorm’ and Lake View Cemetery. From her vantage point, she could just see into the quad between two of the buildings as she waited for her friend to arrive.
 
Bess watched as Sue-Ann entered the quad and stopped short – frozen in place on the walkway. Bess bit her lip and waited, hoping she’d done the right thing …
 
“Suzy-Q…” Sammy cried, moving up to her quickly and pulling Sue-Ann into a tight hug. “I missed you like crazy, Suze! I love you so much,” he told her with deep emotion cracking his voice.
 
Bess watched as the shock waned from her friend and Sue-Ann returned his hug, tentatively at first, then with relief and affection. “Sammy … I’m sorry … I just … I couldn’t … I love you too.”
 
Bess sniffed and wiped her misty eyes then gave Angelpie a kiss before tucking her into her saddlebag bed and cranking up the motorbike. She knew firsthand how lonely and heartbreaking it was to be taken away from your family to fight demons at such a young age. Even if Sue-Ann thought she had no choice when she was first Chosen – even if she didn’t know how to explain it to Sammy then, Bess knew that she could find a way now and that he would understand and do anything to help her.
 
Perhaps there were still a few stars in the sky meant for granting Slayer wishes…

 

**~**

{{Click here to hear “Wishes and Stars” by Harper Simon (Paul Simon’s son) on YouTube  }}

Everyone seems so certain
Everyone knows who they are
Everyone’s got a mother and a father
They all seem so sure they’re going far
They all got more friends than they can use

Except me ‘cause I’m a fool
I’m as simple as a bee
As a melody in C
But it don’t matter
There are more wishes than stars

Every guest
So pleased with themselves
They’re brimming with success
Their whole life’s been blessed
But it don’t matter

Everyone’s been on a holiday in the sun
Or they just got back from one
All they do is just have fun
They all got more friends than they can use

I’m not too certain about many things
I’m not too sure who I am
I ain't got no mother and I ain't got no father
I ain't got no girlfriend to hold my hand

I’m slow like the trees when they grow
I’m sluggish like the ocean when it moves
I’m plain like water or like rain
But I shouldn’t complain cause it don’t matter

There are more wishes than stars
More wishes than stars
End Notes:
TBC ... Hope everyone had/has a wonderful holiday and that my muse was able to provide a few tears to balance out the happy holiday spirit! ;-) Not that he's evil or anything ...

And if you didn't listen to the song and you like Paul Simon, give it a listen ... it's amazing ... and rather despressing ...
Except For the Turkey by Passion4Spike
Author's Notes:
A romantic outing … Spike and Buffy have some ‘alone time’ ...
**
Music Referenced:
Except For the Turkey, Bryant Oden: http://youtu.be/sAIbwodgoU8
Hush Little Baby, http://youtu.be/lG-PpAZV35A
 **
ScreenCaps courtesy of ScreenCap Paradise: http://www.screencap-paradise.com/?cat=3
**
Thanks to 'epd4' for betaing this chapter and PaganBaby for her encouragement, LOLs, and wonderful ideas! Any mistakes are mine because I can't stop fiddling ...
Back in Sunnydale …
 
(The night after the bachelorette party where Spike was the ‘entertainment’), Monday, November 22nd, 2010, 2:30am:

 
Buffy was just finishing up feeding MacKenzie when Spike got home from work. She gave him a kiss as she stood up and handed the baby to him while he took Buffy’s place in the rocking chair in the nursery.

 

“How’s m’ little punkin, t’night?” Spike asked the baby as he held her up against his shoulder and patted her back lightly.
 
Buffy laid a cloth over his shoulder. “Our little pumpkin is spitting up goo like a regurgitating Frovalox demon on steroids,” she offered, holding her own spittle-stained shirt out to prove her point. “So, how was your day? Get gooed by anything?”
 
Spike chuckled softly. “Not t’night … although I did get venom shot at me by a bloody irate Cabrinia beast that caught ‘er boyfriend cheating on ‘er with a Fungus demon …”
 
Buffy grimaced. “Are you ok?” she asked, looking him over for injuries or burns.
 
“Well … sounds worse than it actually was …” Spike admitted, rolling his eyes. “Cabrinia venom is basically red wine … Cabernet, I’d wager … full bodied, with just a hint of oak and a smidge of tart fruitiness … I’d pair it with a zesty rib eye or braised tenderloin,” he teased.


 
Buffy laughed. “So, while I was getting spit up on, you were having drinks with strange women…” Buffy summarized, cocking a brow at him as their daughter christened him with a wet burp.
 
“Bloody hell…” Spike moaned, scrunching up his nose and ceasing to breathe as he pulled MacKenzie away from his shoulder. “Partially digested breast milk … not much on the menu to pair with that.”
 
“Welcome to my day…” Buffy sighed, taking the soft, now wet, cloth off Spike’s shoulder, wiping the baby’s face with one dry corner, and then tossing it into the laundry basket. “I think I’d take the red wine spit over the milk burp…”
 
“She don’t mean it…” Spike defended their daughter as he cradled her in his arms and leaned down close to her. “Do you, pet? No … sweetling don’t mean nothin’ by it…” he continued, shifting into a baby-talk tone and shaking his head from side to side as he spoke. “No she doesn’t … nuh-uh … no …” he continued baby talking and MacKenzie cooed and laughed and grabbed awkwardly at his face with a small hand.
 
Buffy rolled her eyes … if the other demons at the bar could see him now … Big Bad? … more like Big Softie. “I’m going to put in a load of laundry and get another shower,” Buffy began, picking up the laundry basket and starting for the door. “Think you can handle our regurgitating mutant a little while?”
 
“You’re gonna give ‘er a bloody complex callin’ her that …” Spike chastised, raising his eyes to Buffy and giving her a stern look. He looked back down at MacKenzie and reverted to the baby talk, “You’re no bloody mutant, nun-uh … tell ‘er, pet … you’re a bloody prophecy … a child o’ fire … yes you are … a bloody wild angel … uh-huh … my little punkin…”
 
Buffy blew out a long breath and headed out of the nursery and downstairs, leaving ‘Big Softie’ and his little ‘regurgitating punkin’ to their one-sided, baby talk conversation.
 
“There now, the mean ole Slayer’s gone …” Spike began, reverting back to his normal baritone as he rocked his daughter gently. “Don’t pay her no mind … she’s just a little surly with all the bill jugglin’ and whatnot – she don’t mean nothin’ by it. No worries, though … Papa’s gonna fix it soon and your Mama’s gonna be singing a bouncy little ditty, rolling in the dough, she’ll be … Don’t you worry your pretty little red head ‘bout nothin’.
 
{{Click here to hear “Hush Little Baby” on YouTube  }}

“♫Hush, little baby, don't say a word, Papa's gonna buy you a mockingbird,” Spike cooed softly, rocking his little angel.

“And if that mockingbird don't sing, Papa's gonna buy you a diamond ring.

“And if that diamond ring turn brass, Papa's gonna buy you a looking glass.

“And if that looking glass gets broke, Papa's gonna buy you a billy goat.

“And if that billy goat don't pull, Papa's gonna buy you a cart and bull.

“And if that cart and bull turn over, Papa's gonna buy you a dog named Rover.

“And if that dog named Rover won't bark. Papa's gonna buy you a horse and cart.

“And if that horse and cart fall down, You'll still be the sweetest little baby in town.♫”

**~**

(The next evening just after sunset) Tuesday, November 23rd, 2010, 5:15pm:

 
 
“Tell me again why I’m ‘ere…” Spike requested as he followed Buffy through the crowded supermarket, pushing the cart – the cart they had to retrieve from the ditch at the very back of the parking lot because there were no others to be had; the cart with one wheel that wasn’t quite round; the cart which made an irritating sound … krrr-punk, krrr-punk, krrr-punk … as it rolled across the well worn floor of the grocery store.

 

“Because we never do anything together anymore and Willow and Tara said they’d watch the kids for us…” Buffy explained as she led them to the only empty aisle in the store – the health food and vitamin aisle.
 
“So … grocery shopping is the best you could come up with, is it?” Spike questioned, cocking a scarred brow. “No one can accuse you of not bein’ a bleeding-heart romantic …”
 
Buffy sighed as she stopped and pulled the grocery list out of her purse. “It’s not the best I could come up with, it’s just… it’s just what needs to be done – Thanksgiving is in two days, if you recall… and we’re gonna have a house full of people demanding to be fed. The Revolutionary War will look like a game of tidily-winks compared to what will happen if we don’t have a turkey and all the trimmings for them…”
 
“You just wanted help fighting grannies over the best turkey in the bloody case…” Spike accused.
 
“You always could see right through me,” Buffy sighed, rolling her eyes. “Tell you what … how about we split up – you get the potatoes and the stuffing, I’ll get the green beans, French’s onions, cranberries, and yams,” Buffy directed, looking down her list. “Then we’ll get the turkey together – what could be more romantic than picking out some nice carrion together to feed our family?” she quipped and Spike rolled his eyes.
 
“Anya’s supposed to cover the desserts, Willow and Tara are getting a Honey Baked ham and baked beans, Lorne’s bringing the beverages, Clem, of course … finger foods and snacks, Faith and Giles are on clean-up duty … Did I miss anything?” she asked, looking up at Spike.
 
“A partridge in a pear tree?” Spike wondered with a smirk.
 
“No – that’s at Christmas … wrong holiday, dear,” Buffy informed him. “But, that’s not far off, so you can look forward to this romantic getaway again very soon!”
 
“Oh, my mistake … this is the ‘ritual sacrifice with pie’, an all American holiday memorializing the theft of the ‘purple mountains majesty, amber waves of grain, and fruited plains’ from their rightful owners and a subsequent marked decline in fashion sense which included belt buckles on bloody hats; not the classic European holiday where a fat Peeping Tom in a red suit spies on you all year and records everything you’ve done that’s naughty so he has something to keep him jolly when Mrs. Claus has a bloody headache …” Spike quipped, taking pieces of sermons from Willow and Anya and adding his own theory about Jolly Saint Nick to it.



 

“Only you Yanks would put two major holidays so bloody close together! Gets confusin’ it does … trying to keep the thievery and illegal surveillance straight…” 

“I’m sure you’ll figure it out…” Buffy cajoled. “Potatoes and stuffing,” she reminded him sternly. “Synchronize watches … meet back here in …” Buffy looked at an imaginary watch on her wrist “… fifteen minutes.” Buffy headed off in search of yams, leaving Spike with the shopping cart. “Oh … and don’t lose that cart!” she barked over her shoulder.

 

Spike sighed and rolled his eyes before heading off in the opposite direction to fulfill his mission, guarding the shopping cart with his very life – hopefully he wouldn’t meet any resistance from the grannies in the store, he may just have to take them out. krrr-punk, krrr-punk, krrr-punk…
 
Spike was waiting for Buffy when she returned to mission headquarters, the still deserted health food aisle, her arms laden with a large bag of frozen French style green beans, a couple of cans of jellied cranberry sauce, a large can of French’s French Fried Onions, and three giant cans of candied yams. She dumped her cache into the cart and examined Spike’s conquests …
 
“Spike! What’s this?” she exclaimed, picking up his items. “Stove Top stuffing!? Instant potatoes!? This is Thanksgiving! They didn’t have Stove Top stuffing and powdered potatoes! You were supposed to get real potatoes and real breadcrumb stuffing … stuff!” she informed him.

 

Spike’s brows shot up. “And the pilgrims had jellied cranberries, canned yams, and frozen beans, did they?”
 
“Don’t be ridiculous … everyone knows they didn’t have freezers back then …” Buffy argued. “It’s just that these are nicer than the fresh ones … the fresh ones have been picked through.”

 

Spike snorted a sarcastic laugh and shook his head. “Soooo … you’re sayin’ they did have cranberries laden with sugar and canned yams, then? Just popped down to the supercenter and picked ‘em up, did they?”
 
Buffy rolled her eyes and crossed her arms over her chest. “You can’t tell me they didn’t preserve stuff back then … in glass jars with those lids that come apart … I saw it on ‘Little House on the Prairie.’ That’s practically the same as canned from the store! Why do those lids come apart, anyway? I never could figure that out…”

 

“They’re in two pieces because you don’t leave the outside ring on once … oh, bloody hell! What bloody difference does it make?!” Spike exclaimed, raking a hand through his hair in frustration.
 
“Slayer … if you want a genuine first Thanksgiving meal then we need to get a bloody thirty-aught-six and go back to the B&B up in the mountains,” Spike argued.
 
“Huh … why? What’s a naughty … thirty … thing?” Buffy questioned, dropping her hands to her hips.
 
Spike rolled his eyes … again – any moment now they were gonna roll out of his head. “A thirty-aught-six is a bloody rifle and we need to go shoot some Bambi … ‘cos that’s what they really had at the first Thanksgiving … there wasn’t any bloody turkey and cranberries and pumpkin pie … and there most certainly weren’t any frozen beans or jellied cranberries or sodding canned yams!” Spike informed her. "And sugar? You can bloody well forget that! Be lucky if they had a spot o' honey."
  
Buffy frowned, sticking her bottom lip out in a deadly pout. “How would you know?!” she asked indignantly, crossing her arms over her chest.
 
Spike smirked smugly, widened his eyes, and tilted his head before mimicking her by crossing his arms over his chest too.
 
“Oh no you were not!” Buffy exclaimed, dropping her arms adamantly. “I don’t believe you were at the first Thanksgiving!”

 

Spike shrugged his head and one shoulder nonchalantly. “Believe what you want, pet…”
 
Buffy opened her mouth and drew in a deep breath as she prepared to argue with him, but then stopped. What year was the first Thanksgiving, anyway? He couldn’t have been there… no … no way… it had to be before he was even born … certainly before he was turned … right?
 
Shit! … Columbus sailed the ocean deep … no … how did that go, now? Ocean ... wide ... no … blue! That’s it! In … something-something ninety-two, Columbus sailed the ocean blue… Now … what was the ‘something-something’?  If only Annie were here … she’d know.

 

Spike raised his brows and waited as he watched her mind whirl, utter consternation playing across her features as she thought. He pursed his lips together and tried to keep a straight face while she kept running the rhyme over and over in her head … but ‘something-something’ was all she could ever come up with. Stupid, useless rhyming thingy …
 
Finally, Buffy gave up. “Fine … but you can explain to everyone why we have instant potatoes and Stove Top stuffing …”
 
“No worries,” Spike assured her. “With your cookin’, it’d be an improvement.”
 
“Humph!” Buffy exclaimed indignantly, punching him in the arm. “You better watch it, buster! You’re this close to breaking out that ‘Kiss the Cook’ apron again!” she informed him, holding her thumb and forefinger about a quarter of an inch apart to show him how close he was.
 
Spike laughed and rubbed his arm where she’d hit him – it really was just too easy to take the piss out of her. “If ya injure me, I won’t be able to help you fight off the blue-hairs in the turkey aisle,” he reminded her.  “I’ll have you know I had to fight off two geriatrics just for the bloody stuffing … and I’d wager one of them ladies … and I use that term loosely, escaped from Alcatraz!”

 

“Poor baby … I do hope you weren’t injured too badly by the little old ladies you accosted,” Buffy replied sarcastically, rolling her eyes.
 
“Well, ta ever so for your concern for m’ health and well-bein’, Slayer … I almost get dusted fufillin’ the mission you sent me on and that’s all the bloody sympathy I get?” Spike asked indignantly, pursing his lips together and glowering at her. “I’d rather battle a legion of Fyarl demons than face humans under the holiday-shoppin’ hex … bloody ruthless, they are … fight dirty, too. They'll run over ya with them soddin' electric buggies! Should need a special bloody license to drive one 'a them!”

“Oh, you poor baby. Did the wittle, ole wady scare the big, bad vampire?” Buffy baby-talked him, pursing her lips together and shaking her head from side to side like she was talking to MacKenzie.
 
Spike narrowed his eyes and glared at her, his hands on his hips. “You’d be singing a different tune if I was a big, fluffy dust bunny right about now…”
 
“Ok, I’ll bite … what was the ex-con-granny armed with … a cane?” Buffy questioned sardonically.

 

“For your information, she had a bloody wooden handbag! Size of a soddin’ breadbox, it was, and painted with the most God-awful picture of a green frog sittin’ on a lily pad eatin’ a fly. Splintered into a dozen pieces when she hit me over the bloody head with it … any one of which could’ve embedded into my heart and dusted me right there in the stuffing aisle,” Spike informed her indignantly, rubbing the back of his head for emphasis. “‘Clean up on aisle nine!’ … would’a been all you'd a' had to remember me by…”

 

Buffy rolled her eyes and shook her head. “I should’ve known better than to bring you on a romantic outing … you’re insufferable … and apparently a hazard to yourself and others.”
 
“I do m’ best, pet… on all counts,” Spike smirked as he started pushing the lopsided cart towards the dreaded turkey aisle. “Ya got a plan for this mission or is it just fists and fangs …GRRR-ARGH … smash and grab?” he asked with wide, sparkling eyes, hoping the ill-tempered frog lover had moved to the turkey case … payback would be sweet.
 
Buffy shrugged. “I figured you could distract them by doing a striptease while I picked out the best turkey. Plus – bonus – if you’re good enough, we might even get enough money stuffed down your pants to pay for everything.”
 
Spike rolled his eyes. “I’m never gonna live that down, am I?”
 
Buffy smiled at him in triumph. “Not if you live to be a million…”
 
**~**
 
“Annie!” Buffy called when they came in laden down with their supermarket bounty. “Anne Joyce!”
 
Annie came running down the stairs in a panic … she never got called ‘Anne Joyce’ unless something smelly was about to hit the fan…
 
“I didn’t do anything!” she asserted immediately when she got to the bottom of the stairs.
 
“Fill in the blanks…” Buffy instructed her as Annie followed her mother and father into the kitchen. “In blankity-blank ninety two, Columbus sailed the ocean blue…”
 
Annie looked at Buffy like she had lost her mind – a pop quiz? At home? During Thanksgiving break? “Uhhh … In fourteen hundred ninety two, Columbus sailed the ocean blue. He had three ships and left from Spain; He sailed through sunshine, wind and rain …” Annie filled in the blanks and continued the poem.

 

“You are such a liar!!!!” Buffy screamed at Spike who had started laughing and moved to the other side of the kitchen table, out of reach.

 

“I never said I was there … you assumed!” Spike pointed out.
 
“Your eyes said you were there!” Buffy accused, throwing a box of stuffing at him.
 
“My eyes don’t talk, pet …” Spike asserted, deflecting the box of stuffing with one arm and still laughing.
 
“Oh, your eyes talk … they prattle endlessly! You are sooo gonna pay for that,” Buffy threatened, throwing another box of stuffing at him.
 
“Promises, promises …” Spike teased, catching the stuffing easily and moving towards her.
 
Buffy shook her head and rolled her eyes, but couldn’t keep a smile from turning up the corners of her mouth. “Be careful what you wish for…”
 
“Careful’s m’ middle name, pet,” Spike assured her as he pinned her against the counter at her back, putting one hand on each side of her and leaning his body against hers.
 
“What are m’ eyes sayin’ now?” Spike purred seductively, his blue eyes smoldering – speaking as only his could do, right to Buffy’s heart.
 
“If there are gonna be smoochies with tongues … can I go now?” Annie asked from the kitchen doorway.
 
“Run for your life…” Buffy advised, waving a hand dismissively towards their daughter as her smile widened. Annie barely escaped … retreating into the great room just before Spike leaned down and captured his ever-confounding wife’s lips with his.


 
**~**

{{Click here to hear “Except For the Turkey” by Bryant Oden on YouTube  }}
 
It’s Thanksgiving Day and we’re gathered round
Little children make a joyful sound
And there’s no school and we get to play
And we’re all thankful for this day
Except for the turkey

La lala la la la la la
Except for the turkey
 
There’s a wreath of leaves on the front door
And we all say what we’re thankful for
There’s such good food and there’s such great fun
And there’s such big smile’s on everyone
Except for the turkey

La lala la la la la la
Except for the turkey
 
We all join hands and sing this song
with happy hearts and a love that’s strong
We bow our heads then we have our feast
It’s a lovely day to say the least
Except for the turkey

La lala la la la la la
Except for the turkey


So if you’re a turkey and you’re still alive,
you might kinda wanna hide
Or soon you’ll prob’ly be dead meat
On this festive day you’re what we eat
So fly away to a distant land
Where people think turkeys are grand
Spread your wings and sore up high
And be thankful that birds can fly
Except for the turkey.

La lala la la la la la
La la la la la la la
La lala la la la la
Except for the turkey
 
It’s Thanksgiving Day and we’re gathered round
Little children make a joyful sound
There’s such good food and there’s such great fun
It’s a Happy Thanksgiving for everyone
Except for the turkey

La lala la la la la la
Except for the turkey
End Notes:
TBC ... One of these years I'll actually get the chapters posted to coincide with the holidays ... oh well. Next is Thanksgiving Day. What could possibly go wrong? Hey, what couldn't? I bet no one can guess who will toss a wrench into the festive day... (because you know my muse is incapable of writing two happy chapters in a row). C'mon - take a shot! If you get it right, you'll win an IOU for a brand new, 2012 BMW convertible... ;-) Oh, and just what does Spike have up his sleeve to make money? {sigh} My only hint is, Buffy will like it even less than the stripping ...
Hungry Heart, Part 1 by Passion4Spike
Author's Notes:
Will a surprise visitor ruin Thanksgiving or can Buffy vanquish old ghosts?
**
Music Referenced:
Hungry Heart, Bruce Springsteen http://youtu.be/LxptQ_75mQw
 **
ScreenCaps courtesy of ScreenCap Paradise: http://www.screencap-paradise.com/?cat=3
**
Thanks to 'epd4' for betaing this chapter. Any mistakes are mine because I can't stop fiddling ...
(Thanksgiving) Thursday, November 25th, 2010, 9:15am:
 
Buffy was just putting the turkey in the oven after getting the kids some breakfast; the ritual sacrifice with pie was scheduled to commence around two or two-thirty, but the house was already filling up with people. Of course Tara and Willow were there since they were staying at the mansion this week, they could barely pry Edmond out of Giles’ arms to feed and bathe the baby, so, needless to say, the Watcher was also there. Anya had sent Xander and JJ away while she put the finishing touches on the desserts, so they were at the mansion, as well. Lorne, she knew, wouldn’t be by until perhaps noon at the soonest – he wasn’t a morning person at all, which wasn’t surprising since he normally worked until 3am six nights a week, and the same was true for Clem … although what he did all night only vaguely resembled ‘work’ in that he sometimes made money at it … playing poker in the back room at Willy’s. Faith and Spike were both still asleep, since they, too were ‘night people’.
 
Wes and Fred were spending the holiday together and alone … they didn’t get a lot of time together since she still lived in L.A. and he still lived in Sunnydale, so all holidays represented an opportunity for alone togetherness.
 
The only one obviously missing was Bess. Buffy wiped her hands and came out of the kitchen, stopping at the research table to check on their girl. She’d left Cleveland a couple of nights ago and had made a fairly quick trip to Philadelphia, where she’d been since yesterday.
 
Willow came up next to Buffy and studied the map with her. “Do you think she’ll find any answers there?” Willow questioned, frowning slightly.
 
Buffy shook her head. “I don’t know … Spike says you can never go home again, but …” Buffy shrugged.
 
“I don’t know … you know what they say … home's the place that, when you have to go there…” Willow started.
 
“They have to take you,” Buffy finished with a sigh. “Not sure if that applies a century later.”
 
“Yeah … it could be a little awkward having Thanksgiving with strangers who are living in your house…” Willow agreed.
 
Buffy snorted a soft laugh and nodded. “Do you have that spell ready for later?” Buffy asked her friend.

 

“Yeah – no problem,” Willow assured her, before Giles came up and interrupted them.
 
“Do you have more nappies? I believe these are soiled,” he pointed out, holding Eddie up and away from his body as far as possible.
 
Willow scrunched up her nose against the aroma. “What was your first clue? The paint peeling off the walls or the buzzards circling?”
 
“Oh, God, Wills … don’t even say that!” Buffy grimaced and ducked, looking around warily in fear that the new paint would, indeed, start peeling off the walls.
 
“Sorry …” Willow apologized before leading the way upstairs to the 'nappy' supply, Giles following behind her, still holding the baby at arm’s length.
 
Buffy turned back to the map and sighed, laying her hand down near the glowing orb that represented Bess. “Please find what you’re looking for…please come home,” she whispered to her daughter softly.
 
**~**
 
10:30am:
 
Spike ventured down the stairs towards the mêlée of children and adults who all seemed to be talking at once while Christmas music played in the background, a reporter previewed the upcoming Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade on the telly, and a fire crackled heartily in the fireplace. About halfway down he stopped and just surveyed the scene below him.
 
Willow was talking to Annie, Dani, JJ, and Billy … it was her normal ‘Thanksgiving isn’t about blending two cultures, it’s about one culture wiping out another and stealing their land’ speech. Spike could just about repeat it verbatim now, and he wasn’t too proud to cannibalize her speech for his own uses when appropriate. Annie’s teachers had heard it more than once, he knew … and now Dani, Billy, and JJ’s teachers would have the pleasure soon, no doubt about it. It was Willow’s traditional contribution to the holiday; the Honey Baked Ham was Tara’s. Buffy always got a phone call from the school as Thanksgiving approached, as soon as Annie’s teachers started spewing the same old misinformation about the pilgrims and Indians, Annie started correcting and questioning the teacher’s facts. Buffy typically just had Willow call them back…

 

Giles was sitting on the floor with Eddie who was playing with a roller coaster bead maze; it was a game of moving colorful cubes and balls back and forth on equally colorful, criss-crossing wires. Giles was trying to get the child to put all the same color and shape together in one place … Eddie had other ideas.
 
Tara and Buffy were talking about Bess … Buffy was holding MacKenzie, jiggling the baby gently against her chest, while trying to pick the child-psychologist’s brain about the whole situation with their eldest girl and how she could’ve handled it differently.
 
“Buffy, I doubt anything you said that night would’ve made any difference,” Tara assured her. “Bess knew that you wouldn’t be happy with her new … job. She may have actually done it specifically to get a rise out of you … to test you. Children constantly test the rules – push the envelope to see what they can get away with. On the surface, they rebel against the rules and the discipline, but deep inside they know that if you didn’t care, you wouldn’t set boundaries. They need to know there are limits … it makes them feel safe and loved,” Tara explained.
 
Buffy sighed. “Maybe if she was five that would work … not a hundred and five…” Buffy offered.
 
Tara shook her head. “From what you’re telling me, her emotional development was still at the level of a child – a pubescent teenager, but her experience has been ‘love equals loss’ … the more rules you gave her, the more she knew deep down inside that you loved her and the more that frightened her. I think her outburst was a defense mechanism … striking out at you to keep you at arm’s length … hurting you before you had the chance to hurt her,” Tara theorized.

 

Buffy frowned. “I could’ve handled ‘arm’s length’ … but my arms aren’t two thousand miles long! Why couldn’t she have just gone across town … maybe to Xander’s or Giles’?”
 
Tara shook her head and gave Buffy a sad, crooked smile. “I don’t know … Spike’s probably right, she’s probably looking for the place that she remembers feeling the safest – what she thinks of as ‘home’. She doesn’t really clearly remember anyone being her parents except Wanda and John … they’re her … her anchor, her roots. She may be looking for answers that just don’t exist … like why she keeps losing the people she loves.”
 
Buffy snorted softly and her frown deepened. “If she’d just come back, we’d show her that isn’t true…”
 
“I think she needs to realize that on her own,” Tara concluded.
 
Buffy nodded sadly. “I hope she can…”
 
Tara shrugged and Buffy sighed deeply. “Here, can you hold the punkin while I check the turkey?” Buffy asked, holding MacKenzie out towards her friend.
 
Tara smiled and took the baby eagerly. “Thought you’d never ask. I’ve lost my baby … his father won’t share.”
 
Buffy laughed and looked at Giles, sitting on the floor like a ten year old, his legs crossed Indian style with Eddie sitting a couple of feet away. The boy had lost interest in the rollercoaster maze game and was now rolling a colorful ball back and forth across the floor with his father.
 
“Well, don’t think of it as losing a son but gaining one...” Buffy commented as she stood up. “They’re so cute at that age,” she quipped before heading for the kitchen.
 
Spike felt a warmth that seemed to blossom from within him as he took in the whole scene. It was like a Norman Rockwell painting come to life … well, if Norm painted in the Twilight Zone. How this group of misfits could turn into such a close family never ceased to amaze Spike, and that he was accepted into the fold, considered one of them, was even more astounding. In all the years traveling with his clan … Angelus, Darla, and Dru, he never felt like this. The only thing that had ever come close was the years with his first family, but even then there was always a … detached coldness about Cecily that never would allow the love inside him to fully unfurl. There was no coldness in this room, in this house or in this family. They didn’t always get along perfectly, they occasionally grated on each other’s nerves, and things were hard for many of them economically, but when it mattered, they knew they could count on each other for anything.
 
Spike was drawn from his reverie by a stranger coming in through the garden doors. The man stopped and looked around at what must’ve seemed to be utter chaos to an outsider, but no one even seemed to notice him. Spike headed the rest of the way down the stairs … If they’ve sent a bloody bill collector out on Thanksgiving I’ll …
 
**~**
 
“Spike!” Buffy yelled for her husband from the kitchen. “Spiiike!”
 
“Buffy,” Spike replied as he came in from the great room, his voice even, almost apologetic … sympathetic.
 
“Spike, something’s wrong with…” Buffy began, her head in the oven – which was cold, along with the turkey. “…the oven. I was running the dishwasher and …” Buffy continued, turning her attention to the also cold and dry dishwasher.
 
“Buffy…” Spike repeated a little more loudly, trying to get her attention.
 
“... now neither one of them is …” Buffy turned around. “…Dad!”
 
“Buffy,” Hank Summers replied, smiling sweetly and crossing the short distance to pull his daughter into a hug.
 
Buffy’s eyes went wide as she stood dumbfounded as her father hugged her. She looked past him at Spike, questioning. Spike shrugged and shook his head. Let himself in, he did… Spike sent her through the bond in explanation.
 
“What? … When? … Dad? …” Buffy stammered when he released her, looking between Spike and her father, like a deer caught in the headlights.

 

“I rang the bell, but I guess no one heard with the music and TV blaring and all that racket,” Hank explained. “This … uhhh … guy … rescued me from the commotion out there.”
 
“Dad?” Buffy questioned again, still not quite believing her eyes. “What …”
 
“You look good, Buffy! I see you’re living up to your mantra, though – never met a chocolate bar you didn’t like!” Hank teased, patting a hand on Buffy’s abdomen.
 
Buffy frowned. “I … had kids … I just had a baby last month.”
 
Hank nodded and laughed. “Yeah, your mother, God rest her soul, used that excuse for about fifteen years as I recall…”
 
Buffy’s frown deepened. “Mom wasn’t…”
 
“She always liked to cook in grubby clothes, too … well, if you could call it cooking,” Hank continued blithely, the smile never leaving his lips.
 
Buffy looked down at her clothes, jeans, t-shirt … no shoes … there were some unidentified stains … maybe a little gravy, or spit-up, on the t-shirt, but … what the hell? It’s impossible to stay clean with a six week old baby. "There wasn't anything wrong with Mom's cooking..." Buffy muttered, lifting her eyes back to her father.
 
“Just finally got a bit a' meat on ‘er bones,” Spike jumped in, moving up to Buffy’s side and putting an arm over her shoulder protectively.

 

“Some cushion for the pushin’, if ya know what I mean,” Spike winked at Hank and smirked, running his tongue slowly over his teeth. Buffy hit him in the ribs with her elbow and Spike ‘ooomphed’ lightly, rubbing at the spot with his free hand.
 
“Dad – this … this is my husband, Spike … but I guess you already met,” Buffy offered, prying her brain away from her grubby clothes, and Spike’s suggestiveness in front of her father, still in shock over him even being here.
 
Hank’s brows went up in surprise. “This … this is what you’re married to? What happened to William?! Ran him off and re-married already? What kind of name is Spike, anyway? Sounds like a jailhouse nickname.”

 

Spike narrowed his eyes at the man. “Used to work on the railroad … given name’s William,” Spike explained coldly.
 
“What are you doing here? How did you even find me?” Buffy wondered, ignoring the silent posturing between the two men.
 
“I’m … between jobs – moving back to L.A. – thought I’d stop in and see my favorite daughter. Is that a crime?”
 
“You could’ve … called first. You … you didn’t even come to Mom’s funeral …” Buffy pointed out.
 
“I sent flowers,” Hank defended. “And I didn’t have your number … plus, since when does family have to call ahead? Hey, you know what they say, home's the place that, when you have to go there, they have to take you. And home will always be where my little girl is.”
 
Buffy frowned at that statement. He’d never lived in Sunnydale and he’d only visited a couple of times when she first moved here with her mom. Home my ass. “Yeah, I remember the flowers … you sent poinsettias,” Buffy agreed coldly, her agitation growing. “You might’ve had the number if you’d bothered returning any of my calls or letters…”
 
“Your thank you card said the flowers were ‘lovely’.” Hank pulled the thank you card that had been sent for the flowers out of his pocket, he also had their wedding announcement out of the newspaper and a birth announcement for Annie that Joyce must’ve sent him. Buffy now knew how he’d found her, the return address on the thank you card envelope. Buffy hadn’t sent them – Willow and Tara had, Buffy was too despondent to function at that point.
 
All the cards said that, Dad – it’s called being polite. It was February – not Christmas. Mom didn’t even like poinsettias that much. You couldn’t have sent roses? You were married to her for almost twenty years! You didn’t think that deserved something better than leftover Christmas flowers?” Buffy argued.
 
“I see you got your mother’s temper,” Hank observed, unfazed by Buffy’s outburst. “Hope you didn’t inherit her cooking skills too! Joyce was a lot of things, but Julia Child wasn’t one of them…”

"Mom was a good cook ..." Buffy began to defend again when she felt Spike’s growl vibrate against her where his body was touching hers – he could tease her about her cooking, but no one else better say a bloody word. “Spike … honey, could you and Xander go downstairs and check the breakers?” Buffy requested, turning to her husband. “The oven and dishwasher are both dead and I don’t think anyone but Clem likes raw turkey…”
 
You sure? Spike asked silently, pulling his angry eyes away from her berk of a father and looking at her.
 
Yeah… please?
 
Spike nodded and released his hold on her before heading out to find the problem with the electricity.
 
“Need me to come with you? I’m pretty handy …” Hank offered.
 
“No!” both Buffy and Spike answered at once.
 
Hank sauntered further into the kitchen and looked around. It looked like a bomb might’ve gone off with all food that was in the process of being prepared. “I see you didn’t get your mom’s penchant for cleanliness … you could eat off her floors, I’ll always give her credit for that,” Hank remarked as he bent down and picked up a small piece of celery that had fallen onto the floor.
 
Buffy frowned and plucked the celery from his hand. “That’s an offering to the god of ceramic tile … it keeps it from cracking under the strain of my weight,” Buffy quipped dryly, dropping the celery back onto the floor. “And, anyway … we saved all year and bought a whole set of dishes – they match and everything, so you don’t actually have to eat off the floor.”
 
Hank watched the celery fall back to the tile and shrugged. “So, aren’t you gonna offer your old man a beer?” he asked amiably, looking back up at her.
 
Buffy raised her brows. At ten am? she questioned silently, but went to the refrigerator anyway. She started to pull out a Michelob Ultra, Clem’s preferred beverage, but her dad reached in past her and grabbed one of Spike’s Wells Bombardiers that Lorne had gotten imported for him from England especially for the holiday.

 

“Generally prefer German beer over English swill, but I guess if that’s all you have,” Hank commented as he opened the bottle and took a deep swallow.
 
Buffy choked back a protest as she put the Mic back and closed the refrigerator. “You never answered my question, what are you doing here?” she reminded him, turning to face him and crossing her arms over her chest.

 

“I told you, just in the area … wanted to spend some time with my girl, meet my granddaughter. Is that too much to ask?” Hank replied, taking another nip of the ‘English swill’.
 
“Anne, right?” her father questioned. “Let’s see,” he started, looking at the birth announcement. “How old is she now … ten?”
 
“Eleven … almost twelve and we have three more now… which you might’ve known if you’d ever taken a minute to call or write,” Buffy informed him, dropping her hands to her hips.
 
“Wow – your boy must make a good living. What did you say he does again? Railroad work?” Hank questioned.
 
“He’s in security …” Buffy answered truthfully, if slightly vaguely. “And he’s not a boy.”
 
“Really!? I could use some advice on the security system in my new house in Malibu …” Hank began.
 
“Not that kind of security … more like personal security,” Buffy corrected.
 
“Ohhh … a bodyguard, huh? Looks a little small for that kinda work. Any clients I’d know? Rock stars?”
 
“I don’t think so – his work’s more … clandestine … top secret stuff,” Buffy provided, still not really lying – Scooby work was ‘top secret’ … she was just stretching things a bit.
 
“Should be on now, luv…” Spike interrupted their conversation as he came back in the kitchen. “Harris says the blokes that hooked up the dishwasher bollixed it up … don’t run them both at once ‘til he can fix it.”
 
“Ok, thanks …” Buffy addressed her husband before going back to the oven to make sure it was working again.
 
“So, Spike – you do a lot of traveling in your line of work, I suppose,” Hank started, taking another sip of his beer.
 
Spike’s brows shot up. “Done my share…” he replied. What line o’ work would that be, luv? Spike asked his wife silently.
 
Personal top secret bodyguard …
 
“Ever been to Germany?” Hank wondered.
 
“A time or two …”
 
 “Then I’m surprised you’re drinking this swill. Schneider Aventinus beats this English ale hands down!” Hank informed him, holding up his nearly empty bottle of Bombardier.
 
Spike’s brows shot up even higher. “Does it, now? I notice it ain’t stopped you from nickin’ one and downin’ it in world record time…” Spike growled.

 

Buffy stepped near Spike and put her hand on his back near his belt, just in case she needed to use it to pull him away from her father.
 
“So – Dad … what time do you have to leave to get back to Malibu?” Buffy wondered, trying to sound nonchalant.
 
“Oh – the house there won’t be ready for another couple of weeks. Figured I could hang out until then – get to know the granddau … kids – you know,” Hank replied with an equally nonchalant shrug, reaching in the fridge for another bottle of English swill.
 
“A couple of weeks?” Buffy exclaimed, the deer in the headlight look returning to her face. “I … I don’t think that would work … we’re … uhhh, going out of town tomorrow. Won’t be back until after Christmas.”
 
“Well…” Hank began. “… maybe I could, you know, join you…”
 
Buffy’s eyes widened further. “Uhhh … that would be great but we’re going to …" Buffy paused, trying to think of somewhere her father wouldn't want to go.

"Madagascar..." Buffy finally came up with at the same time Spike offered, "Zimbabwe..." then they both reversed their destinations quickly, talking over each other.

Finally, Buffy said, "Zimbabwe then Madagascar ... and uhhhh ... you don’t have your shots,” she asserted. “They’re very strict about shots down there… it’s a whole thing … many, many … painful ... very bad shots.”
 
“Oh … that’s a shame. That’s alright, got plenty of friends in L.A. I need to catch up with, anyway,” Hank replied casually as Buffy’s heart slowly descended from her throat back to her chest. “I can come back down when you get back.”
 
“Right … uhhh … would you excuse us for a minute? I think I hear something … someone … that needs us … somewhere … else,” Buffy stammered.
 
Buffy grabbed Spike’s hand and dragged him out of the kitchen into the great room and towards the stairs. Only pausing long enough to ask Willow to keep Hank contained in the kitchen and away from everyone.
 
“How?” Willow asked, looking warily at the entrance to the kitchen.

 

“I don’t know how! Use … magic! Put some magical tape over his mouth and tie him to a chair!” Buffy called in a stage whisper as she pulled Spike upstairs with her.
 
“Why did you let him in?” Buffy demanded of Spike whirling on him as soon as they were in their bedroom with the door closed.
 
“Pardon? I didn’t let ‘im in … he came in! Said he was your pop … Red confirmed it… What was I supposed to do, kick ‘im out?” Spike defended.
 
“Well … yeah! That would’ve been an idea! I could’ve supported that plan!” Buffy agreed as she started frantically pulling dresses out of the closest and holding them up in front of her body as she looked at them in the mirror – examining and discarding one after another.
 
“Buffy … calm down, luv,” Spike cooed, moving in front of her and putting his hands on her upper arms. “If ya want him kicked out … I’ll kick ‘im out.”
 
Buffy sighed and leaned into him, dropping the dress she’d been appraising to the floor and Spike wrapped his arms around her. “I feel like I’m ten years old … I hated him for so long after he ran off … then he sent those stupid cut-price poinsettias to the funeral and I worked so hard on just pretending he didn’t even exist … and now, it’s like – poof … I’m ten years old again and all I want is his … approval.”
 
Buffy lifted her misty eyes up to look at Spike. “I’m almost thirty … I've had four kids … got a wonderful husband, a home … great friends, a Watcher that’s been a better dad than that SOB ever was … I’m the damn Slayer, for God’s sake! And all I want is that bastard to toss me a crumb … why do I even care? I shouldn’t care!” Buffy insisted, pulling away from Spike and pacing back and forth in the small space.
 
“I should be like a Carebear only … the opposite. I’m the ‘Don’t-Care-Bear’,” she admonished herself, putting a determined look on her face and lifting her chin defiantly. “I should give him a poinsettia and send him on his way! I should hate him … I should … change into nicer clothes,” Buffy sagged, picking a striped dress out of the closet and holding it up in front of herself.

 

“Does this make me look fat?” she asked Spike, turning to face him so he could get the full effect of the dress.
 
Spike sighed and rolled his eyes. “You aren’t fat and the dress ain’t a bloody quilted parka, so I’d haveta go with no!”
 
“I’m serious!” Buffy exclaimed, dropping that dress and going for a conservative solid black one. Black is slimming, right?
 
“So the bloody hell am I!” Spike insisted. “I don’t see anything wrong with what ya got on … looks bloody good to me.”
 
“You just like my ass in jeans…” Buffy retorted.
 
“And? What the bloody hell is wrong with that? Your ass looks good in jeans, pet … ‘course you’d look good in a bloody burlap sack…” Spike argued.
 
“Yeah, I’ve heard that one before …” she moaned as she started getting undressed.
 
“Buffy … you’re inside your own bloody house … dress how you want – do what you want. Only two people you got to worry about pleasing … you and me – and if you’re happy, I’m bloody happy,” Spike assured her.
 
“I know…” Buffy moaned, letting out a sigh as she pulled the black dress on. “This is silly … utterly ridiculous … Why should I even care? … Honestly ... I don't care ... How do I look?”
 
Spike rolled his eyes. “Like a million bucks…”
 
Buffy fixed her hair and put on some makeup and heels. “We better get back downstairs…” she suggested when she finished.
 
“Buffy …” Spike stopped her and turned her to face him. “You don’t need his approval. You’re a strong, beautiful, smart, sexy woman and a caring and compassionate mum … he’s the loser that left his family. He’s the one that sent poinsettias to a February funeral … he should be the one groveling at your feet to forgive ‘im,” Spike reminded her.

 

Buffy nodded solemnly. “I know … ‘Don’t-Care-Bear’, right? This is me not caring what he thinks,” she preached more to herself than Spike, nodding resolutely before her eyes went wide in horror. “Oh God! We have Stove Top stuffing and powdered potatoes! I can’t serve him Stove Top stuffing and powdered potatoes!”
 
Spike’s chin dropped to his chest in defeat. “No worries … I’ll take care of everything, yeah?”
 
“You will? How? It’s Thanksgiving morning! We don’t have time to grow a potato crop!” Buffy pointed out in a panic.
 
“You take care of your pop – keep him away from my bloody beer, and I’ll take care of it…” Spike assured her. “Everything will be fine … ‘Don’t-Care-Bear’.”
 
“Right … totally, completely ‘Don’t-Care-Bear’ …” Buffy nodded and the pair headed back down stairs.
 
**~**
 
“Oh God … he got out,” Buffy moaned as they descended the stairs and saw Hank talking to Annie, Dani, Billy, and JJ.
 
Spike noticed that Clem had arrived. “Clem and I are gonna go shoppin’ … we’ll be back right quick – keep your bloody father away from my beer,” Spike admonished her.
 
“Ok, I’ll try…” Buffy agreed.
 
“I thought you were gonna keep him tied up!” Buffy whispered to Willow as she got to the bottom of the stairs while Spike grabbed Clem and headed for the garage.
 
“I tried …” Willow defended.
 
“Some witch you are!” Buffy chastised her friend as she took MacKenzie from Willow’s arms and went over to where her father was talking to the other kids.
 
“Of course, we tried to help your mom, even committed her to the cuckoo ward for a while, but it didn’t help. When she set that school on fire, it was the final straw … tore our family apart. Buffy and Joyce came to Sunnydale and …” Hank was saying.
 
“Dad! What are you …!?” Buffy interrupted him.
 
“Oh, I was just telling them that funny story about how you set the high school gym on fire at Hemery … chaos and destruction … that’s my girl’s legacy,” Hank offered with a syrupy smile.
 
“Did you really set the school on fire?” Dani asked her as all the children’s eyes turned to Buffy.
 
“Just the gym … and there was a perfectly good reason,” Buffy told them, hoping they’d get the hint. “A super secret reason.”
 
“So … I see you met some of your grandchildren …” Buffy observed, changing the subject and turning her eyes back to her father. “This is MacKenzie Verity,” Buffy began proudly, bouncing the baby lightly in her arms. “She’ll be seven weeks old on Sunday. And you probably already met Anne Joyce, Danielle Dawn, and William Rupert … and this is JJ … uhhh, Joshua – he’s not ours,” Buffy introduced them touching a hand to each of their shoulders as she did so. “Kids, this is my father … your Grandfather Summers.”
 
Dani crinkled her brow. “I thought Angel was our grandfather …” she questioned.
 
Buffy smiled innocently, glad that Spike wasn’t here to hear that. “Sort of … but that’s on your dad’s side … this is my father.”
 
“Just call me Hank … ‘Grandfather Summers’ makes me sound old,” Hank offered, extending his hand and shaking each of the kid’s hands in turn.
 
“Of course, I guess being a young grandfather is to be expected when you have a promiscuous daughter that’s careless or stupid enough to get knocked up at seventeen,” Hank observed derisively.  “Lucky the boy even married you with an illegitimate kid in your belly.”

“DAD!” Buffy flinched like she’d been punched in the gut and looked at Annie who looked like she’d been slapped. Annie knew that Buffy was pregnant with her before they got married; it had never been a big secret. It would’ve been a hard secret to keep, given the wedding pictures with Buffy looking like the Goodyear blimp. When Willow and Tara got married, they had teased Annie and told her this was the second wedding she’d been in as the ‘flower child.’ When their daughter was little, she liked to say that her papa had married both of them – her and Mama.

  

“Are you sure that punk rocker of yours is the father of all these kids?” Hank continued, apparently oblivious to the wounds he was inflicting. “I mean ... blonde, brunette, and a redhead? That’s some gene pool!”
 
“Yes, I’m quite sure, Dad,” Buffy asserted, gritting her teeth and giving her father a scornful glare.
 
Hank shrugged. “If you say so … hopefully you’d know. Aren’t you going to introduce me to your other friends?” Hank asked, seemingly unaware of her discomfort or the daggers she was projecting on him from her eyes.
 
“Why not? Maybe you can alienate them all …” she muttered half under her breath. Buffy guided Hank away from the kids, giving Annie an apologetic look back over her shoulder as they started towards Xander and Anya, who were sitting on the couch.
 
“I like that dress,” Hank offered as they walked.
 
“Do you?” Buffy questioned with a small smile, looking down. “Thanks … I just hadn’t gotten a chance to change before…”
 
“It suits you. The flared skirt hides your belly and slims your hips … of course, I wouldn’t go with black for Thanksgiving … it’s kind of dour, don’t you think? But … I’m sure you did your best,” Hank complimented her … sort of.
 
Buffy stiffened again as they got to Xander and Anya and Buffy introduced them … then continued around the room. She saw Spike and Clem come back in and head into the kitchen, skirting the gathering, laden with more bags of groceries. Buffy originally thought it was ridiculous that Wal-Mart had started opening on Thanksgiving Day … but now she was starting to see the logic of it.
 
During the introductions, Tara confiscated MacKenzie again, giving Buffy a sympathetic look – she knew firsthand how torn Buffy must be about having her father suddenly show up unannounced. No matter what he’s done, he’s still your father; that will never change, and the emotions that evokes are deep-seated and powerful. When Buffy finally broke away from Hank, leaving him with Giles and Willow, she went into the kitchen to check on the meal. Spike and Clem were both elbow deep in peeling potatoes and chopping more celery and onions for the stuffing.
 
“Everything alright, luv?” Spike asked her when she came in, intent on his task.
 
“Hunky with a side of dory …” she replied, feeling as dour as her dress. “Can I help?”
 
“We got it under control, pet … you just worry about your pop … leave everything here to us,” Spike assured her.
 
“Are you sure I can’t help? I mean, maybe I could just … stay here and hide,” she suggested hopefully, dropping her face into her hand.
 
Spike put down the knife he was peeling potatoes with and turned to her. “If you want me to kick him out, just say the word…” he offered.
 
Buffy’s shoulders sagged. “Noooo…” she moaned. “I guess not.”
 
Buffy’s eyes went wide when she finally looked up at her husband. “Spike! My God, what happened?” she exclaimed, reaching a hand out to gently touch his battered face. He had a blackened eye and cut lip and she wasn’t sure but thought he might have some bruised or cracked ribs judging by the way he was moving.
 
“Jus’ a little do at the supermart … you know how brutal them blue-hairs are this time o’ year,” Spike explained with a shrug.
 
“Hank Summers strikes again…” she moaned, shaking her head. “God, baby … I’m so sorry.”
 
“No worries, luv … be a cold day in hell when a grannie pries the last bag a’ spuds outta my cold, dead hand.”
 
Spike had gotten some Löwenbräu when he was at the store, so Buffy got one for her dad, opening it and taking a long swallow of it as she walked. It wasn’t Aventinus, but hopefully the German brew would keep him away from Spike’s prized ale. She found him talking with Giles, Willow, and Tara near the research table…
 
“Of course it’s to be expected that she’d fall in with a fella like Spike … heaven only knows what qualifications he has to be a bodyguard. Probably spent more than a little time in the slammer…” Hank continued.
 
“Actually, I believe it was just the once …” Giles began before Hank interrupted him.
 
“I mean … knocked up at seventeen … kicked out of two high schools in three years, no college education … I guess the punk rocker was the best she could do – of course, if I had been here, I would’ve never allowed it,” Hank continued. “She obviously didn’t have the paternal guidance she needed to keep from falling in with the wrong crowd.”
 
“Spike’s quite an extraordinary individual once you get to know him…” Giles asserted, taking offense not only for Hank’s rash judgment of Spike, but his contention that Giles would’ve allowed Buffy to ‘fall in’ with the ‘wrong crowd’ or marry someone unworthy.

 

“Of course, I should count my lucky stars, I suppose,” Hank continued taking the proffered beer from Buffy’s hand as she walked up to them. “With all her fighting and acting all butch, her mom and I weren’t too sure she wouldn’t turn into a dyke.”
 
“Dad!” Buffy exclaimed, looking between Willow and Tara. “That’s totally rude and … offensive! There’s nothing wrong with loving who you love, man or woman,” Buffy informed him.
 
“It’s ok, Buffy,” Tara assured her. “It’s nothing we haven’t heard before … from my own father.”
 
“Oh!” Hank exclaimed, looking between the girls. “You two are … together? But … I thought you two …” he continued, wagging a finger between Giles and Tara, “… were a couple. Isn’t that your rug-rat?” he questioned, pointing towards Eddie who Xander was entertaining by making funny faces.
 
“Indeed … In fact, we’re all three together,” Giles clarified. “It’s a relatively new concept called a family … were people love and accept each other unconditionally – you may have heard tell of it on television, perhaps. I believe it’s examined extensively on a show you’d be familiar with … the critically acclaimed and intellectually stimulating ‘Jerry Springer Show’.”
 
The conversation was interrupted by a beeping coming from the kitchen. “I have to baste,” Buffy announced, turning abruptly on her heel and disappearing like an apparition.
 
Hank looked at the three parents, a horrified look flickering over his features for the briefest of moments before bringing a phony smile to his lips. “Yeah, sure …” he agreed with a head shrug. “Takes all kinds, I suppose … even perverts have a place in the world,” he commented as he walked away.
 
**~**
 
When Buffy came back, Lorne had arrived and Hank was waiting impatiently for him to set the liquor out on a table near the garden doors.
 
“I think you’re a little late, friend,” Hank was saying to the green demon. “Halloween was about a month ago…
 
“Musta worked hard on the makeup though … I’ll give you that … and those clothes! Could you have found anything gaudier? Goodwill must’ve been glad to see those go!” Hank continued as Lorne sat the last bottle of liquor out.

 

“Dad, this is our friend, Lorne – he’s not in costume … he just has … a skin condition– he runs the best and most successful nightclub in town,” Buffy informed her dad proudly as she gave Lorne a hug.
 
“Lorne, this is my dad, Hank Summers,” Buffy provided when Lorne released her.
 
“We’ve met,” Lorne commented dryly. “Where’s my little kumquat?” Lorne asked brightly, turning away from Hank as he poured himself a double.
 
“She’s bouncing around here somewhere … last I saw, she was in the kitchen with Spike and Clem,” Buffy offered.
 
“Then I’m off to the kitchen,” Lorne concluded, downing the first drink and pouring himself another double.
 
“You might want to take Spike one of those…” Buffy advised, cocking a brow at the whiskey. Lorne nodded and poured another glass.
 
“It was … an experience meeting you, Mr. Summers…” Lorne excused himself as politely as he could and headed for the kitchen with the drinks.
 
“So … I’ve heard of people running away from their family to join the circus, but never heard of anyone running away from the circus to join a family,” Hank commented to Buffy. “Of course, with this family you’ve got here … anything’s possible.” Hank shrugged and rolled his eyes.
 
“Oh look! Your beer is empty! I’ll just run away and … uhhh … I mean run into the other room and get you another one,” Buffy offered brightly, taking the empty bottle from her father’s hands and following in Lorne’s wake towards the kitchen.
 
When Buffy entered the kitchen, she plucked Spike’s whiskey up off the counter and downed it in one quick gulp.
 
“Hey! Mine! Master Chef working ‘ere!” Spike complained as he mashed the boiled potatoes and began adding soy milk and the special margarine that Dani could eat to them and whipping them by hand into a carbohydrate lover’s fluffy, wet dream.
 
“Sorry … have a beer,” Buffy offered, getting him one of his English ales and grabbing another Bräu for her dad.
 
“How long before we eat so we can end this nightmare?” Buffy asked, as she opened the Löwenbräu and took a swallow.
 
“Not long, I reckon … turkey’s nearly done, Anya brought the desserts and set ‘em out on the sideboard in the dining room. Get the kids to set the table and we’ll be good ta go shortly,” Spike informed her sympathetically.  He’d never been more glad to be stuck in the kitchen – he wasn’t sure if he could’ve maintained the self-control that Buffy had displayed with her old man.
 
Buffy nodded and started out of the kitchen just as Clem did. “Where are you going?” she asked their friend.
 
“Bar … you don’t know what he’s like to work with … Master Chef my flabby ass!” Clem rolled his eyes, jabbing a clawed thumb in Spike’s direction. “More like Master Slave Driver …”

 

Buffy put a hand on Clem’s shoulder and stopped him. “I’ll get it … Not sure how many skin conditions I can explain in a five minute span.”
 
Just as Buffy started towards the bar, the beeper signaling ‘time to baste’ went off again. She stopped and stuck her head back through the kitchen door. “Hey, Master Chef, can you baste?”
 
“Pffft!” Spike snorted. “Whaddya think, a Master Chef can’t baste? I’m a Master Baster from way back…”

 

Spike’s face fell when Lorne, Clem, and Buffy burst out laughing. “That didn’t come out right…” he moaned, rolling his eyes and picking up the turkey baster, ignoring their teasing smirks.
 
Buffy delivered the half empty beer to her dad before retrieving a bottle of whiskey from the bar and delivering to the ‘kitchen staff’, which now included Giles, Tara, and Willow, as well. Then she got Dani, Billy, and Annie to set the table and sent JJ upstairs to wake Faith up.
 
When she’d finished running around, she caught up with her father who was talking to the only people left in the great room – Xander and Anya.
 
“So you’re living in the house I bought for Joyce…” her father was saying. “She just about broke me with that place. I never could understand why she needed such a big house when it was just her and Buffy.”
 
“You must not have had much money if buying that house nearly broke you,” Anya observed. “You only put ten thousand down on it … Joyce paid most of the mortgage all on her own after that because you never sent any more money after you moved to Spain. Plus, that down payment must’ve been part of the division of the community property, so, it wasn’t actually yours, but Joyce’s.”
 
“Well … I … uhhh..” Hank stammered.

 

“You know, you’re lucky she didn’t file charges against you as a deadbeat dad. There are laws, ya know? There should be a warrant out for your arrest right this minute,” Anya continued matter-of-factly with a firm nod of her head. “You owe Buffy a lot of money … well, you really owe Joyce, but since she’s dead and buried under those inappropriate poinsettias you sent to the funeral, I think she’d want Buffy to have it.”
 
Buffy stopped just behind her father and pulled her lips between her teeth to smother a smile. There were times when she absolutely loved Anya.
 
“I don’t know if there’s actually a statute of limitations on that or not,” Anya continued, her brow furrowing in thought. “Buffy should really look into that – I’ll be sure to remind her later.”
 
“Well, that’s not necessary,” Hank cajoled. “Buffy’s welcome to anything and everything I have – she’s my daughter, I’d give her the world. I’m sure she needs all the help she can get, bless her heart. Never was the sharpest tool in the shed, if you know what I mean, but I'm sure she does her best.”
 
Buffy’s smile morphed into a grim frown and tears stung her eyes again. Damn him! How could he always make her feel so small?
 
Lorne stuck his head out the kitchen door. “The little popper on the turkey’s popped …” he informed them.
 
“I know just how it feels…” Buffy sighed as she turned and headed to the kitchen.
 
**~**
 
“No, Dad – that’s Bess’ place,” Buffy began as everyone gathered in the dining room a few minutes later. “You can sit here by me…” Buffy offered, pulling out a chair for him.
 
“Who’s Bess?” Hank wondered, looking around at the crowd – he’d missed meeting her.
 
“She’s … she might be along later,” Buffy hedged. Even though Buffy knew Bess was two thousand miles away, they always set a place for her at the table, and today would be no exception. One day, Buffy prayed, Bess would show up and her spot would be there waiting for her to join them. Stranger things had happened … her father appearing magically ranked right up there at the top of the ‘truth is stranger than fiction’ list.
 
Everyone fell into a subdued collaboration as platters of food and plates were passed and filled to overflowing with the bounty. The adults helped the kids get a little of everything and soon everyone had enough protein and carbohydrates on their plates to feed a small African nation for a week.
 
As Buffy lifted a forkful of the real mashed potatoes that Spike had made smothered in turkey gravy to her lips her father stopped her. “Don’t you say grace anymore?” he questioned judgmentally.
 
Buffy set her fork down on her plate. “Oh … uhhh … sure. I just got carried away,” she stammered, looking down the long table at Spike for help. She never remembered saying grace, even as a child … when did her dad find religion and what kind of religion did he find? It must be the sarcastic, callous, bigoted, if-you’re-not-like-me-you’re-going-to-hell kind of religion. That didn’t really narrow it down much.
 
Spike reached his hands out and joined them with Annie, who was on one side of him, and Faith on the other and nodded for them to do the same with Anya and JJ, who were on the other side of them. When everyone had joined hands, Spike bowed his head.
 
Spike took a deep breath and began, his voice sliding easily back to the accent of his childhood and as the prayers his mother and Nellie used to recite ran through his mind and pieces found their way through his lips. Well … some of it Spike came up with on his own.
 
“Dear Gracious Giver of all good,
"We are thankful for the bounty on this table,
“We are thankful for our friends and family gathered here today,
“And our prayers reach out to loved ones who are far away,
“We hope that they are safe and well and they will find their way.
“Under your graceful guidance,
“May we all be filled with tolerance of our fellow man,
“And the capacity to keep a civil tongue,
“To get us through this day and the challenges that lie ahead.
“Amen.”

“Amen,” the adults repeated with everything from utter relief to hopeful sighs in their voices … the kids had no clue and they mimicked the ‘Amen’ a second later.
 
Buffy wiped a bead of perspiration from her brow and smiled at her father, who, for once, seemed duly impressed with her choice in mates.
 
“Not bad, but a little long winded, isn’t he?” Hank groused, taking a bite of the green bean casserole. “Food’s cold…”
 
Buffy blew out a loud sigh and lifted her own fork of mashed potatoes to her lips to help the ‘Gracious Giver’ with the ‘keeping a civil tongue’ challenge Spike had laid down.
 
**~**
 
“Looks like your boy can cook ok,” Hank offered a little while later, addressing Buffy. “Not sure why he even married you. I mean obviously, he was getting the milk free … and he must make a decent wage, and can cook … why would he buy the cow?”
 
“Dad …” Buffy whined. “Maybe he married me because he loved me…” she suggested.

 

“Yeah … sure, honey. I’m sure that’s it,” Hank agreed with condescension tainting his voice.
 
Buffy rolled her eyes and took another bite of food. It was best to just keep her mouth full at this point. It would be over soon … Please, Gracious Giver of all good, let it be over soon.
 
“It’s not your fault, sweets,” Hank continued. “I blame myself for your failures in life … your mother obviously wasn’t capable of raising you and with no male role model in your life … well … you just did the best you could with what you had to work with,” Hank explained to her sympathetically.
 
“You think I’m a failure?” Buffy asked softly, setting her fork down and again feeling like she was ten years old.
 
“No … no, not at all!” Hank assured her. “You obviously made a good choice trapping the punk … at least he seems to be a decent provider for you – and, hey – bonus, he can cook! I mean – the boy isn’t the ideal partner, I’m sure, but you better hang on to him; you aren’t getting any younger, and with that passel of kids it’ll be pretty impossible to attract a new man to support you.”
 
“Trap? You think I trapped Spike by getting pregnant?!” Buffy asked incredulously.
 
“You wouldn’t be the first, honey – it’s a perfectly understandable tactic for a girl in your position – with no real skills or future prospects. I’m just saying, you need to hold on to him. I’m sure he has his dalliances … but that’s no reason to cut your nose off to spite your face,” Hank advised his daughter.
 
Spike got up from his seat at the other end of the table and stalked down to where his wife was sitting.
 
“What about dalliances?” Spike asked, his eyes narrowed in anger at his heretofore absent father-in-law.
 
“Look at him Buffy …” Hank waved a hand at Spike. “He’s in his prime. You have four kids, I’m sure you don’t have the time and energy to tend to … certain needs like you once did. What do you really expect is gonna happen?”
 
Buffy sat dumbfounded, her mouth ajar for several moments, unable to speak, his words taking her breath just as sure as if she’d been punched in the gut.
 
Spike growled low and threatening. “No one in this bloody marriage has dalliances, you berk,” Spike informed him tersely. “And no one’s been trapped. There’re no locks on the bloody doors. They swing both ways and I suggest you…”
 
Buffy laid a hand on Spike’s arm, interrupting his rant. She could feel Spike’s protective energy and his love for her and for their family wash over her. She suddenly felt ashamed … ashamed of her father and ashamed of herself for letting him run roughshod over her and her friends and family.   
 
What are you doing?!! her mind screamed at her. The needy ten year old daughter her father had reduced her to had suddenly had enough. Her inner child came out into the light and immediately grew into a strong woman, a passionate lover, a loving wife, a compassionate mother, and a determined, if at times impulsive, Slayer.

 

“So … you’re saying if Spike decides to … screw his secretary, for example … I should just …” Buffy shrugged one shoulder, as if brushing off a ‘dalliance’, “… forgive and forget. Because I’m too stupid to support myself and too fat and old to get a new man to keep me … do I have that right?” she asked, her voice rising louder as she spoke.
 
Everyone had quieted when Spike joined Buffy and Hank at the opposite end of the table and now the father and daughter had the full attention of the group.
 
“Buffy, you’re taking that all wrong … I’m just trying to help you…” Hank defended.
 
Buffy crossed her arms over her chest and glared at him. “No you’re not. I don’t know what you’re trying to do, but ‘help me’ isn’t even in the top ten! And to think that I actually let you in my house! That I let you put me down and insult my friends and family! What the hell are you doing here – really?”
 
“I told you … I was just moving back to L.A. and my apartment won’t be ready …” Hank began.
 
“Apartment?! Earlier it was a ‘house’ …” Buffy pointed out.
 
“Well … it’s … an apartment inside a house …” Hank clarified.
 
“You’re renting a room in someone’s house…” Buffy deduced.
 
Hank shrugged. “Well … yeah, I guess you could say that. But it’s just temporary until I get time to look around and get my own place…”
 
“Right …” Buffy scoffed. “You know what I think? I think you’re broke. I think your girlfriend dumped you because of a few too many ‘dalliances’ and your company fired you for being a condescending, incompetent ass and now you’re broke and alone.
 
“You show up on my doorstep telling me what a failure I am and putting my life down – putting my husband down, who, unlike you, doesn’t have dalliances, he doesn’t lie to me or go behind my back. He actually loves me and our children and isn’t afraid to tell us so!
 
“You’ve got the nerve to stand there and put our children down – those kids are the best thing I’ve ever done – they’re smart and beautiful and funny and I love them more than anything in the world and they don’t deserve your callous remarks! And let’s not leave out Giles – the man who’s been a better father to me than you ever dreamed of being even in your wildest dreams! I can take your criticism, I’m used to it, but they aren’t and they don’t deserve it!”
 
Buffy dropped her napkin on the table and pushed her chair back, the feet scraping loudly on the tile floor as she stood up literally now and continued fuming at her father.

 

“Did you think you could turn me back into that sniveling little girl with a hungry heart that followed you around begging you to toss her a little crumb of love? You figured you could work your magic with back-handed compliments and your hurtful ‘advice’ and that little girl who would do anything to get the slightest compliment from her dad would suddenly appear.
 
“Well … it almost worked… but I’ve learned a thing or two since you’ve been gone. I’m not a little girl and I have worth … I’m not stupid and I’m not unlovable or unworthy and I’m not a failure! I’m strong and … and smart and attractive … and … and amazing and perfect just the way I am, and I’m part of something you’ll never understand – a beautiful, loving family.
 
“What did you think? I’d beg you to stay here with us just to try and get a little nod of approval from you? Well, think a-fucking-gain! I don’t need love from someone who doesn’t know the meaning of the word! I don’t need the approval of a so-called man that has done nothing but fail his family and everyone around him all his life!
 
“This is so typical of you!” Buffy continued, as she started to pace back and forth at the head of the table, flailing her arms adamantly. “Waltzing in here unannounced and ruining my Thanksgiving! Why couldn’t you just stay curled up in the deep, dark hole you call a life and stayed out of mine?” she demanded angrily.
 
“Buffy, sweetheart … I …” Hank began.
 
“Don’t ‘sweetheart’ me!” Buffy growled, as she stopped and leaned down near him. “I have two words for you, Hank Summers … I think they’ll sound vaguely familiar,” Buffy continued, interrupting him. “Get the fuck out!” she screamed at him, quoting her mother and pointing a finger at the door adamantly.
 
“I believe that was four words actually…” Giles pointed out with a dry smile that drew repressed chuckles from the other guests at the table.
 
“He’s right … it was four – but math never was my best subject. You know what was my best subject? ‘Chaos and destruction’. So, I’m not sure why you’re still sitting here unless you want a demonstration,” Buffy threatened, fuming with pent-up anger and frustration.
 
Hank looked around the table at all the expectant and irritated faces staring at him.
 
“You heard the lady … your invitation’s been revoked,” Spike added a calm voice to the tirade, moving up next to Hank when the man didn’t move and reaching for his arm to ‘help’ him out.



Hank pulled his arm away from Spike and stood up abruptly. “Buffy … is this really how you want to leave it between us?” Hank questioned.
 
“B-bye…” she said scornfully, holding a hand up and opening and closing her fingers in an angry wave. When he still didn’t move, she grabbed his arm and pulled him out of the dining room, through the kitchen, then pushed him towards the garden doors. “It’s been fun. Let’s do this again in another … fifty years…”
 
“Buffy …” Hank begged, turning back around to face her. He took both of her hands in his and looked into her eyes. “You have to know I only want the best for you. I don’t know what you and your friends are into,” he told her. “But when you’re ready to get out of this … cult, I’ll be there for you.”
 
Buffy smiled saccharinely. “I appreciate that, I truly do, but don’t look for me on your doorstep in this lifetime.
 
“If this is a cult, then it’s my cult … think of me as the Jim Jones of Sunnydale,” she informed him with a satisfied smirk. “And you just drank the Kool-Aid.”
 
Buffy watched her father trudge up the steps and out of her life – again. This time she was nothing but thankful … it seemed apropos being Thanksgiving and all. What a difference from the first time he’d walked out. She took a deep breath to relax and compose herself then turned back towards the kitchen doorway where Spike was standing, leaning on the jamb and covering her back as he always did so well.
 
“You ok, luv?” he asked running his hands lightly up and down her arms when she reached him.

 

“Didn’t you hear my speech? I’m strong and smart and attractive and perfect,” Buffy reminded him.
 
Spike smiled and pulled her into a hug. “You forgot amazing, pet.”
 
**~**
 
Back in the dining room, Buffy was met with applause and whistles. She smiled and curtsied. “You can catch our shows here seven days a week … cash, checks, gold, and bearer bonds happily accepted,” Buffy quipped.
 
“For my next act, I’m gonna make this fabulous meal disappear and, lucky for you, it’s audience participation time, so dig in!” she encouraged everyone as she sat back down in her place and Spike took his seat.
 
“Are we supposed to say grace again since we stopped eating?” Billy wondered, looking between Buffy and Spike, unsure of ‘grace protocol’ since they’d never said grace before.
 
“Sure … why not?” Buffy agreed. “Good food, good meat, good God, let’s eat!”
 
“AMEN!”
 
**~**

... Continued in next post
End Notes:
Chapter too long to fit ... continued in next post ...
Hungry Heart, Part 2 by Passion4Spike
Author's Notes:
Chapter continued from previous post ...
Later that afternoon, a couple of hours after dinner:
 
While Xander and JJ were coaching Spike and Dani on the finer points of American football as the Cowboys battled the Redskins on the telly, Buffy went looking for Annie – they needed to talk.
 
“Ready for more dessert yet?” Buffy asked as she sat down at the homework/snack table in the ‘bat cave’ next to her eldest daughter, placing a chocolate brownie and a glass of milk near her.
 
Annie rolled her eyes and gave her mom a small smile as she took the offering, sliding the papers she’d been working on out of the way.
 
“Whatchya doin’?” Buffy asked, looking at the dark TV and empty room. “Trying to escape the madness that is your family?”

 

Annie laughed and shook her head. “I know there’s no escape…”
 
Buffy laughed and ran a hand gently down Annie’s hair, pressing some stray locks back behind one ear.
 
“I was just taking a break and working on translating that language in that book about the Gem that Aunt Willow sent,” Annie offered, waving a hand at the papers on the table.
 
“How’s it going?”
 
Annie shrugged. “I think it’s a demon language, not human … and Aunt Will was right, it’s also scrambled in some kind of code. We’re missing the decoder ring that goes with it, soooo … not too well so far.”
 
“Well … just do your best, honey. Don’t stress out over it, we’ll figure something out about the Gem one way or another,” Buffy assured her.
 
“Did you just come down here to fatten me up or was there something else?” Annie wondered, breaking a piece of the brownie off and popping it into her mouth.
 
“That obvious, huh?” Buffy asked with a smile and Annie rolled her eyes.
 
Buffy took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “What my dad said … that’s not how it was at all,” Buffy started. “He’s pretty much an ass and he had no idea what he was talking about.”
 
Annie shrugged and took another bite of the brownie.
 
“The monks created you to conceal the Key, they gave you to your dad and me to protect and love, and somehow they knew we would – together. They knew that we were meant to be together, even before we did ... and that together we could keep you safe,” Buffy explained softly. “Not because you’re the Key, but because you’re ours. Because we love you with our hearts and souls.”
 
Buffy had reflected quite a lot on that night over the years … the night the monks had made Spike alive, borrowed her life force and gave it to him in that moment to create their daughter, and hide the Key. It was also the night she admitted her love to Spike – so very unlike her to do. No, that wasn’t like her at all, at least not like that; not that quickly, not to another vampire, ensouled or not … it just came out of her lips before she even knew the words were forming. Then, when she had the dream and realized what the monks had done, she wondered if they had done something to her to make her say that, feel that.
 
Even when Spike came back to the mansion after she found him with Harmony and told him about the baby, that feeling of uncertainty nagged at her, to say the least. Was that really her talking? Did she really love him? As time went on though … as they fell into a comfortable camaraderie, protectors of the Key, allies against the demons, lovers, and friends, she realized that it was her heart talking, not any spell. What the monks had done was simply taken the walls down … cut a small slit in her cautious heart’s protective cocoon, and let her recognize that feeling which stirred deep within her soul – true love.

She wasn’t sure but thought perhaps the seed of her affection might've been planted months before when she first saw him in that alley behind the Bronze. Why else had she let him walk so many times? Allowed him to escape from the 'Vampire-Wannabe' club her friend Ford had lured them all into rather than go in with a flamethrower or flood the place with holy water once he and Dru and the rest of the vamps were locked in there. And that wasn't the first or last time she'd given him a pass - or him her, for that matter. William the Bloody, who would rather dust than turn away from a fight, backed down and ran away from her more in a few months than he'd done in the entirety of his existence since meeting Dru. Whenever it started, she was sure that it was true and it was her, not something the monks had created when they created Annie.
 
Annie had heard this before, the story about the Key and the monks. Despite her young age at the time, she even had some horrific, fractured memories of the fire escape and the confusing time after her mother’s death. Sometimes she wondered if they were her memories or if they were planted in her mind later after hearing some stories about that fateful night from the adults. She didn't really have any video of it in her mind, they were more like feelings or impressions than actual, full-fledged memories with pictures and sounds, and she tried not to dwell on them, although they sometimes crept into her nightmares. It was hard to keep the power of her blood a secret from her when every scrape or cut was a cause for alarm. Luckily, the blood only opened portals that already existed … that someone else had created; it didn’t create new ones all on its own just by falling on the ground. Apparently such portals weren’t all that common, although Annie had learned over the years to be extra careful with her blood.
 
“My father makes Darth Vader look like the world's greatest dad. He's a user … he likes to manipulate situations to his own benefit, make the people around him feel small so he can feel bigger. He did it to me my whole childhood, he did it to my mom … I’m so sorry that I let him do it to you,” Buffy apologized.

 

Annie nodded and took a sip of the milk to wash the brownie down, her gaze glued down to the tabletop.
 
“Your father married me because he loved me – the same reason I married him. We weren’t trapped … you weren’t some big ball and chain hanging around our necks – you were a miracle and we both loved you from the very moment we knew you existed,” Buffy assured her daughter.
 
“You never thought about maybe … getting an abortion?” Annie pondered softly. “You were pretty young ... and ... ummm ...” Annie hesitated, looking down at the table before finally lifting her eyes again to her mom. "... it would've probably gotten rid of the whole Key problem and avoided the whole Glory thing..."
 
“No, never,” Buffy assured her sternly. “I was scared … I admit that, I think your dad was too … but I never once considered not having you and I’ve never once regretted it, and neither has your dad. When Spike realized that I was really pregnant and it was really his ..." Buffy shook her head slowly and gave Annie a smile. "He was so happy ... I'd even say joyful. You have no idea.
 
“Annie, I don't regret one thing - not the being young when I had you - not even the dying. I love you with every fiber of my being. You’re a special girl, you’re growing into a lovely young lady, and one day you’re going to be an extraordinary woman. Don’t ever let anyone tell you any different,” Buffy urged her.

 

Annie nodded, there were a couple of bullies at school like that – Annie figured Buffy’s dad must’ve been one of those kids when was young. It was best to just ignore them, not let them get to you or goad you into an argument, that seemed to take their power away.
 
Annie pushed the plate the brownie was on towards Buffy. “Want some?” she offered her mom, finally looking up and meeting her eyes.
 
Buffy smiled and patted a hand on her daughter’s shoulder. “If you insist…”
 
**~**
 
Later that night, 7:00pm:
 
“Where are you going?” Buffy questioned her husband as he got his duster down off the coat rack by the door and pulled it on.

 

“Work,” he replied with a shrug.
 
“But, it’s Thanksgiving!” she whined. “I thought we’d all watch ‘Elf’ and eat leftover turkey and pumpkin pie tonight…”
 
“Sorry, pet … got a feelin’ ‘bout tonight – lots a’ lonely, drunk sailors just waiting to part with their pretty green paper…” Spike apologized.
 
“Plus, I don’t think I could fit one more speck o’ turkey in and I really can’t afford to miss the overtime …” Spike explained. “You’re gonna stay home t’night, right? No patrol, no shopping … nothing like that, yeah?”
 
Buffy looked at him a little quizzically. “No … it’s Thanksgiving!” Buffy pointed out again.
 
“I know, pet. Which means that Peeping Tom dressed in red’s supposed to be showing up soon – need to get all the money I can,” Spike offered.
 
Buffy sighed and her shoulders slumped. “But you’ve been up all day – how are you gonna work all night now?” she argued.
 
“NoDoz and Red Bull, pet …” Spike replied, grabbing his keys off the hook by the door. “I want you to stay ‘ome, though … don’t go out without takin’ Faith with you.”
 
“Why … what’s going on?” she questioned.
 
“Nothin’s going on … it’s just … uhhhh … demons stuffed with turkey and dressing can be unpredictable. Just promise me you won’t go out alone,” Spike admonished her.

 

Buffy rolled her eyes. “Oh, you think they’ll snore me to death?” she quipped. But at his insistent look, she agreed, “Sure … whatever. I wasn’t planning on going out anyway,” she reminded him, walking closer.
 
Spike wrapped his arms around her and dropped a kiss on the top of her head. “I’ll try not to be too late, luv.”
 
“Okay … please be careful, I’m not sure what the side effects are of mixing NoDoz with tryptophan … it could be dangerous,” she quipped.
 
Spike snorted a laugh and squeezed her tighter. “I’ll stay away from all heavy machinery…” he promised.
 
“Did I thank you for what you did today?” Buffy asked, looking up at him.
 
“What’d I do?”
 
“Tried to tell me to be … ‘Don’t-Care-Bear’, saved dinner, said grace … made real potatoes and stuffing and … master basted …” she teased with a sly smile.
 
Spike bit down on his bottom lip to smother a saucy grin. “No … I don’t believe you did thank me properly for that,” he informed her with a smirk.
 
Buffy shrugged, a shy smile still on her lips, and ran her hand teasingly up and down his chest. “Well … I’ll have to remedy that when you get home … I mean, assuming you’re not experiencing any detrimental side effects from overdosing on that dangerous drug cocktail of turkey and caffeine.”

 

Spike leaned down and captured her lips with his. She tasted of brownies and gravy and a hint of whiskey and Buffy – another dangerous addition to his illicit drug cocktail. His body screamed at him to stay … lock her away in their room with the pumpkin pie and find out what adding her sweet nectar to the mix in his blood would do. But the head on his shoulders and their empty bank account finally won out and he reluctantly released her.
 
“Gonna hold you to it,” Spike purred against her lips before he grudgingly pulled away.
 
“I’m counting on it.”
 
**~**
  
After getting the kids to bed, 9:30pm, Thanksgiving:
 
“Okay … that’s got it,” Buffy told Willow as she snapped the lid closed on the Tupperware plate which held a full Thanksgiving dinner, stacked another plate of desserts on top of it and taped a small note on the top of that.
 
“I thought you said she was small … petite…” Willow questioned, looking at the football-player-sized servings of food Buffy had prepared.
 
“She is … but … she might be hungry, or have friends! It would be rude to eat in front of your friends and not have enough to share,” Buffy defended.
 
Willow shrugged. “I guess that’s a point…” she agreed as she lit three candles and placed them in a triangle with the plates of food in the center. With the candles and food in between them, Willow joined hands with Buffy and they both closed their eyes before the red witch recited the spell…
 
“Ancient wise ones link to my will,
“My greatest desire you now fulfill,
“Separated by time, separated by space.
“Send this mother’s endearment to Bess’ current place.
“So mote it be.”
 
There was a bright flash of light and when they opened their eyes, the platters of food were gone.
 
“Did it work?” Buffy asked.
 


“Theoretically … I’ve never sent anything, mostly I’ve just tried drawing things to me. Hopefully it won’t end up … you know, inside a wall or on the handlebars of the Harley at eighty miles an hour,” Willow explained.
 
“She’s been in the same place a while, I don’t think she’s on the road,” Buffy offered. “Hopefully it got to her and didn’t turn into mush or the plastic didn’t melt or anything like that.”
 
“Hopefully…” Willow agreed. “I wonder if that lifetime warranty on Tupperware applies to being melted by magic.”
 
Buffy laughed lightly and blew out the candles. “I hope she brings it back with her – those dishes aren’t cheap!”
 
“Buffy the thrifty miser … I keep waiting for the world to start spinning the opposite direction or something,” Willow teased. “Next thing you know your father will show up on your doorstep…”
 
“Yeah and Spike will become a Catholic priest, right after saying grace over Thanksgiving dinner,” Buffy quipped back.
 
“And Faith will take a vow of celibacy … and mean it,” Willow added, rolling her eyes.
 
“Oh God, three out of the four signs of the apocalypse have already come true … I better make sure Spike stays wickedly naughty.”
 
“It’s your sacred duty, your Calling,” Willow agreed with a serious nod. “You should debauch him tonight … don’t take any chances!”
 
“Oh, the sacrifices a Slayer must make,” Buffy sighed dramatically. “So demanding and thankless … but I’ll soldier on as best I can.”

 

The girls laughed as Willow gathered up the candles and put them back in the sideboard.
 
“Remember, not a word to Spike about this,” Buffy reminded her friend. “He says we shouldn’t help her or contact her … but, I just can’t help but feel like she must be wondering if we’re even thinking about her or missing her.”
 
Willow drew an imaginary zipper across her lips with her fingers. “Your secret’s safe with me, Buffy. You just worry about keeping the impending apocalypse at bay … at least until after Christmas. I got Eddie the cutest little teddy bear! I can’t wait for his first Christmas!”
 
Buffy gave her friend a mischievous grin. “I’ll tie Spike up and ravish him all night long if I have to, for his own good and for the sake of teddy bears and Jewish Christmases everywhere … of course.”
 
“Of course, what would the world be without Jewish Christmases and teddy bears?” Willow agreed with a firm nod of her head.
 
**~**

{{Click here to hear “Hungry Heart” by Bruce Springsteen on YouTube }}


Got a wife and kids in Baltimore jack
I went out for a ride and I never went back
Like a river that don’t know where its flowing
I took a wrong turn and I just kept going

Everybody’s got a hungry heart
Everybody’s got a hungry heart
Lay down your money and you play your part
Everybody’s got a hungry heart

I met her in a Kingstown bar
We fell in love I knew it had to end
We took what we had and we ripped it apart
Now here I am down in Kingstown again

Everybody’s got a hungry heart...

Everybody needs a place to rest
Everybody wants to have a home
Don’t make no difference what nobody says
Ain’t nobody like to be alone

Everybody’s got a hungry heart...
End Notes:
TBC ... We'll find out what Spike has in mind to make extra money in the next chapter...
Let's Get Ready to Ruuummbblle! by Passion4Spike
Author's Notes:
In his effort to secretly help Bess, has Spike put the rest of his family at risk?
**
Music Referenced:
Let’s Get Ready to Rumble / Ya’ll Ready For This? http://youtu.be/uAIAET2e2y8
 **
ScreenCaps courtesy of ScreenCap Paradise: http://www.screencap-paradise.com/?cat=3
**
Thanks to 'epd4' for betaing this chapter. Any mistakes are mine because I can't stop fiddling ...
(Thanksgiving) Thursday, November 25th, 2010, earlier that day.
 Just after Hank arrived – Spike and Clem go to the grocery store to get *real* potatoes and stuffing:

 
“You sure you can remember everythin’?” Spike questioned as he pulled the DeSoto up in the nearly deserted parking lot of the Super Wal-Mart. Apparently the ‘shopping on Thanksgiving Day’ idea hadn’t quite caught on yet, thank goodness.
 
“No problem, pal. Mind like a steel trap,” Clem assured him, tapping a long, sharp fingernail against his temple as he got out of the car and headed into the store to get the required items.
 
“That’s what I’m afraid of … rusty and illegal in forty-seven states…” Spike moaned, wishing he’d thought to bring a blanket or something with him so he could go into the store with his friend.
 
Spike sighed and channel-surfed on the radio as he waited for Clem, finally joining in with The Sex Pistols singing ‘My Way’ as he watched for Clem to come out of the store.

 

Suddenly, all four doors on the Desoto swung open without warning, bathing Spike in sunlight. He screamed and lunged away from the deadly, burning rays towards the middle of the seat. Before he knew what was happening, someone, or something, had him in a chokehold from behind and there was a demon in the front seat on each side of him, holding his arms and legs still and pinning him to the seat.

 

“I’m sorry to have to interrupt your holiday, Mr. Spike,” a demon from the backseat began, his voice low and gravelly, his demeanor calm and polite. “But I don’t seem to be getting your attention…”
 
“Mr. Shark …” Spike choked out past the demon that had an arm across his throat. Judging by the strength it had, Spike guessed it was a Fyarl demon, just like the two that now flanked him in the front seat. “We had a bloody deal!” Spike reminded the demon.

 

“Operative word is ‘had’, Mr. Spike, past tense, but you haven’t been holding up your end of the bargain. Nothing personal, it’s just business,” Mr. Shark retorted.
 
“I’ll get you the bloody money, I just need a little more time,” Spike insisted, his voice low but adamant as he struggled against his captors.
 
“Time … yes, well, I’ve given you time, Mr. Spike … almost four months now. If we were dealing in kittens, I’d have nothing but a bunch of stray cats on my hands that the SPCA wouldn’t even take,” Mr. Shark informed him. “Now, I did you a favor when you needed it. Despite my better judgment, my brother vouched for you and I helped you out. I’ve been patient, but unlike you, I’m not immortal, so I can’t wait forever for my money.
 
“Mr. Spike … I’m not an unreasonable man, and I intend no harm to your lovely wife or children on this day of thanks,” the loan shark assured and threatened at the same time, using a friendly tone. “But I’ll be expecting you next week, fifteen thousand and we’ll call it even … otherwise, well … let’s just say that I won’t be so understanding next time we meet…”
 
“Touch ‘em and die,” Spike threatened, still struggling in vain against the three Fyarl demons that were holding him prisoner.
 
“Oh … no, that’s quite unlikely. You think these three are the only muscle I have?” Mr. Shark inquired pleasantly. “Getting to me would be like getting to Don Corleone – I'm certain that you aren't fool enough to try that, Mr. Spike.
 
“Now, I really hate these unpleasantries, but it’s you that’s made it necessary – you’ve brought this on yourself by welshing on our deal,” Mr. Shark explained.
 
Spike growled at the shark. “I told ya before, you’ll get your soddin’ money!”
 
“And I believe you, because now you know I’m serious … and I know where to find you, and your lovely family,” the shark cajoled with an easy smile. “I know a few Grox’lar Beasts who would pay a handsome price for a redheaded infant – redheads are in high demand, they say they are a powerful aphrodisiac. And then, there’s a clan of Howler demons that would be forever in my debt if I were to deliver a pre-pubescent female child for their upcoming ritual sacrifice.”
 
Spike growled dangerously and struggled harder to get free of his captors, but with three Fyarls holding him, he was just pissing in the wind.
 
“I’ll be expecting you, and my money, next week, Mr. Spike … don’t let me … or your family, down,” the loan shark advised congenially before he got out of the car. The large demon on Spike’s right hit him in the face with an iron fist, rocking Spike’s head back and blackening his eye, then the one to his left slammed his forearm against Spike’s mouth, bloodying his lip. To add insult to injury, the one on the right slammed a bony elbow into Spike’s ribs, doubling the vamp over.

 

As Spike was trying to get the little cartoon birds to stop circling his head, the demons exited the vehicle as quickly as they entered, slamming the doors closed and leaving him alone as Sid Vicious crooned, “♫ There were times, I’m sure you knew, when there was fuck, fuck, fuck-all else to do …”
 
Spike wiped the blood from his mouth, closing his eyes and banging his fists on the dash of the car in anger and frustration. “FUCK!” he screamed, barely able to keep himself from kicking the windshield out as he raged against the only thing available, his beloved DeSoto. Spike let out a litany of curses as he pounded down on the seat and up on the roof and kicked the floorboards until he had no seething energy left and, despite not actually having to breathe, his breath came as ragged gasps of anger and frustration.
 
Spike had borrowed money from the loan shark as a last resort to help Bess, without telling Buffy. He knew Buffy wouldn’t object to helping their daughter, but she’d want to take it further, she’d want to go to her, especially after he found out Bess was in jail, and Spike didn’t think that would be a good idea. They’d been fighting so much at that time, mostly over money, and he just didn’t want to add more fuel to the fire, so he simply didn’t tell her any of it.
 
He’d first borrowed just enough money for the repairs to the Harley, but when Bess didn’t come back to get it, he started checking around and found out she’d been arrested. So, he went back to the well and borrowed more to hire a decent attorney for her, one that he was sure wouldn’t give up, even if his daughter did. He thought something would break ‘soon’ and he’d be able to pay the loan back. He’d gotten nearly half of what he owed when he went to Las Vegas, but Buffy discovered the cash in his jeans the morning after he got home and she was so ecstatic about being able to make payments on all their bills for once, that he just couldn’t find a way to tell her he needed it for something else. Unfortunately, going back to Vegas was impossible … they accused him, unjustly in Spike’s opinion, of counting cards and banned him from the casinos there.
 
The interest on the loan had been compounding quickly and the total owed was, according to Mr. Shark, up to fifteen thousand now … it’d take Spike half a year working at The Fish Bowl to earn that much, even with overtime.
 
Spike jumped when the rear passenger door opened and Clem set the grocery bags in the backseat. When Spike realized it was just Clem, he took a deep breath to try and calm down and slid back over under the steering wheel.
 
“What happened?” Clem asked when he got in the front seat, looking between Spike and the dented and cracked dash.

 

“Angry puppy,” Spike growled as he started the car.
 
“Oh … Mr. Shark, huh?” Clem assumed. “I told you…”
 
“Yeah, yeah … don’t need no bloody sermon from you t’day,” Spike hissed as he maneuvered the car out of the parking lot.
 
“You’re gonna have to tell the Slayer…” Clem advised.
 
“No, I’m not and neither are you. Keep your bloody mouth shut – I’ll handle it,” Spike instructed his friend.
 
Clem sighed and shrugged. “How much is it up to?”
 
“Fifteen.”
 
“Hooo boy … where are you gonna get …” Clem began.
 
“Don’t worry about it …”
 
“Ok, buddy … I hope you know what you’re doing. Mr. Shark is bad news if he thinks you’re jerking him around. I heard he killed a whole family of Tranjck demons … and they only owed him five…” Clem warned.
 
Spike drew in a ragged breath and blew it out loudly. “I’ll take care o’ it.”
 
“You’re gonna have to tell Buffy something … your face isn’t as ugly as it was when we left,” Clem informed him.
 
Spike rolled his eyes and snorted a soft laugh. “No worries … not the first time I got beat up at the soddin’ grocer’s.”
 
**~**
 
That evening, after telling Buffy he was going to work and admonishing her to stay home:

Spike headed down towards the docks, towards The Fish Bowl, but turned onto Waterview Avenue and followed it along the crowded waterfront, past the wharf, past docks and piers and the large cargo and fishing ships moored there, into the heart of the seaside industrial district. The old section of town near the docks was littered with long defunct canneries, fishmongers, and import/export businesses that folded when the ‘Made in China’ label graduated from gaudy trinkets and transistor radios to wide-screen tellys and pirated DVDs.  The DeSoto looked decidedly out of place parked alongside limousines and Lexus’ and the occasional Lamborghini and Ferrari that lined the dark, narrow streets … or perhaps it was the other cars that were out of place. Spike briefly wondered if he should lock the DeSoto, then snorted sarcastically as he looked at the new red Thunderbird hardtop convertible parked in front of him and the classic, 1956 Corvette behind … he decided Vader would be safe.

 

Spike followed the others, women in their furs and diamonds, men in tuxes or three piece suits, as they made their way past one abandoned, anonymous, red brick building after another. They looked as if they were headed for a big Hollywood movie premiere, or perhaps going to the Oscars or a high society ball; Spike felt like there should be red carpet lining the sidewalks; the truth of it, however was much different. As they walked past the old cannery, glass from the broken windows crunched under their feet; Spike could still smell the odor of stale, rotted fish wafting out from the once thriving business. He looked up at the haphazardly broken windows, which seemed to look down on them with contempt – its life apparently over while theirs continued on. After walking some blocks on the otherwise deserted streets, the small league of prosperity finally ducked down an even more narrow and dark alley that led to their destination. Spike followed, hugging the wall, as he watched the wealthy patrons hand their ‘by invitation only’ tickets to one of two heavily armed, mountainous men that guarded an unimpressive and unmarked entrance into one of the nondescript warehouses. Behind the men, two Fyarl demons stood on either side of the door as backup; getting in that entrance without an invite and a $1,000 ticket would be suicide.
 
Spike continued walking, out of the alley and around the block to the back of the building. The security here wasn’t nearly as tight. Most of the gladiators were already inside, but a late arrival gave Spike the opportunity he needed. Spike inched forward as the Brachen demon slid his key-card in the electronic lock and pulled the door open quickly before sprinting inside. Spike caught the door just before it closed again and crept in unseen.
 
Once inside, he looked just like any of the other competitors gathered for the special holiday event. Spike straightened up and put on his best ‘Big Bad’ demeanor and acted like he belonged there as he meandered through the hallways, past the locker room and towards the office.

 

Spike didn’t bother knocking, but rather just opened the promoter’s door and stepped inside, closing and locking it behind him quickly. You’d think the promoter of a ‘No Holds Barred’, extreme demon mixed martial arts fighting championship would be an impressive specimen of power and strength, but, no. In fact, the human behind the desk looked like he would be more apt to be an IRS auditor than a promoter of perhaps the most brutal and physically demanding sport known to man or demon. The man was in his mid-fifties and stood, at best, five-foot six, had thinning mousy brown hair with evidence of failed hair plugs on the top, his small frame and gaunt cheeks reminded Spike more of a concentration camp survivor than one of the wealthiest and powerful men in perhaps all of Southern California.
 
The man looked up from his computer when Spike stepped in and casually leaned back in his chair, pulling his wire-rim glasses off and dropping them on the desk before folding his hands behind his head. The old brass name plate on the desk read Mr. Andreev … mostly everyone just called him ‘Boss’.
 
“Spike,” the man greeted the intruder amiably. “I told you I’d call you…”
 
“Somethin’s come up … can’t wait any longer,” Spike explained to the promoter, moving further into the office and up to his desk.
 
The smaller man shook his head. “I have all the lightweights and welterweights I can use … more than I can use,” the man explained, waving a hand at his computer screen.
 
“Then put me in middleweight or heavyweight…” Spike suggested. “I don’ care … I’ll fight a bloody mountain if I have to.”
 
Mr. Andreev shook his head sympathetically. “Spike … you don’t understand. My customers demand more than just a fight, they expect an exhibition in brutality – they want competitive bouts … not two hits, him hitting you and you hitting the ground.”
 
Spike shook his head. “Won’t be like that … I’m tougher than I look, taken on plenty of bigger blokes and won – I’m just asking for one chance. If I can’t cut it, then … fine, you won’t see me ‘ere again.”
 
The promoter sighed and crossed his arms over his chest as he rocked back and forth in his chair. “You’re persistent SOB, I’ll give you that …” he admitted, fingering his chin as he thought.
 
“Tell you what,” Mr. Andreev began after a few moments of contemplation. “I’ve got one middleweight guy that’s under the weather … I’ll pull him and put you in in his place.” The promoter shrugged. “You can’t be any worse than a vomiting Regurgitating demon with a fever and a stuffy head.
 
“You’ll be fighting Salvatore, a Grox’lar Beast …”
 
Spike brightened and stood up taller, a triumphant smile gracing his features. “Brilliant! When do ya’ need me?”

 

The man looked at his watch. “Put you up first … half an hour,” he informed Spike and Spike’s face fell.
 
“What’s the matter – you said you wanted a chance … didn’t want to wait,” Mr. Andreev pointed out.
 
“Yeah … no, right – I just don’t have any gear …” Spike explained.
 
“There’s no gear. Use what the good Lord … or whoever gave you – no shoes, no gloves … fists, fangs, feet …” the promoter explained. “There’s no referee, there’s no rest – no time-outs or standing eight-counts. There’s you and him and a pit. When one of you is unconscious or dead, the bout is over. There are no rules, there are no fouls, there is no mercy.
 
“You sure you still want to do this?” the smaller man questioned, looking at Spike expectantly.
 
“And how much do I get if I win?” Spike asked.
 
“First fight you win, you get a thousand dollars; after the first, you get two thousand per bout you win. If you win three in a row, you’re eligible for the Championship Tournament. The winner of that gets half a million, but there are no weight classes in that at all – it’s usually won by a heavyweight – in fact, it’s never been won by a welterweight,” the promoter explained. “Of course, you can make more by betting, but you can only bet on yourself, not your opponent. If I catch you placing bets and throwing bouts, you’re out … and I will catch you, have no doubt about that. I have eyes and ears everywhere.”
 
“Half a million … dollars?” Spike questioned, his voice cracking several octaves higher than normal. He knew the demon version of the UFC paid well, but he had no idea how well.

 

“Yeah … kittens are just too much trouble – they turn into cats that the SPCA won’t even take…” Mr. Andreev explained dismissively, repeating Mr. Shark’s problem with using kittens as currency.
 
“I’m in,” Spike assured the man. “You won’t regret giving me a chance!” he assured the promoter.
 
“I’m sure you’re right … but chances are, you will. I’ll get a clean-up boy to find you a locker and get you de-coned … you got twenty-five minutes now,” the man informed him, standing up and heading out into the hall to find said boy.
 
“‘De-coned’?” Spike questioned following behind him.
 
“Oh … sorry, decontaminated…” Mr. Andreev explained. At Spike’s confused look, the man explained, “Magical decontamination. If you have any talismans or amulets on you anywhere … and I mean anywhere, you need to leave them in your locker. Some guys think they can come in here with protection spells or strength spells, even had one try an invisibility spell … I can tell you right now, that’s not gonna happen – the de-con chamber will cleanse them and any talismans on you anywhere, even hidden inside, will explode. It’s not a pretty picture when some smart-ass thinks they can hide it by swallowing it … ever seen Alien?”
 
Spike nodded.
 
“Yeah, well … it kinda looks like that when it explodes inside your stomach…”
 
**~**
 
The clean-up boy turned out to be a thin lad of about thirteen or fourteen years old and, if Spike had to guess, was Vietnamese and most likely illegal; he introduced himself as Raj. After getting Spike a locker, and running him through the decontamination chamber, he offered Spike a tour of the facility. Spike declined the tour and instead sent the boy to find out what the line was on him at the betting windows.
 
“Fifty to one,” Raj reported with a thick Asian accent, out of breath from running … there was only ten minutes left before Spike’s fight was set to begin. Spike pulled out all the cash he had in his wallet and pockets, $104.79, and gave it to the boy to place the bet for him.
 
“Run!” Spike instructed him as Raj clasped both hands tightly around the bills and change and lit out for the bookmakers upstairs. If Spike could win, he’d not only get the $1,000 from the promoter, but over $5,000 in winnings … that would go a long way to paying off his debt to Mr. Shark and should get the ‘banker’ off his back until he could come up with the rest of the money. He wished to God he had more money to bet, he knew if he won this fight, the odds would come down in the future, but he didn’t have any time to rustle up any more funds or even call Clem … and calling Buffy was out of the question, even if he’d had time.
 
“You’re up,” another clean-up boy informed Spike and Salvatore, the Grox’lar Beast, who had a locker on the next row.

 

Spike stood up and rolled his head around, cracking his neck, then popped all his knuckles loudly – showtime. Grox’lars weren’t known for their stamina in a fight, but Spike didn’t want to underestimate him; Mr. Andreev wouldn’t have him here if he couldn’t compete. Grox’lars were strong and had long claws and horns that could do some damage and a mouth full of razor sharp teeth and extremely strong jaws, which they typically used for devouring their favorite food – the heads of babies – apparently redheads were a prized delicacy, at least according to Mr. Shark.
 
Spike and Salvatore danced around the ring, loosening up … well, it was more of a pit than a typical boxing ring, with rough stone walls about twelve feet high. The top of the pit was surrounded by a clear, three foot tall, Plexiglas safety railing and behind the glass were the by-invitation-only, $1,000 per head ticket holders. The floor of the pit was well worn, blood-stained granite … there was no cushioning mat or canvas to break a fall – if you went down here, chances were you’d stay down.
 
Spike felt very much like he had in the white room in the dungeon, the warriors on the field of battle splayed at the feet of the rich and powerful. He studied the faces looking down on them as the announcer introduced the two contenders and he saw unabashed desire in the human’s eyes… a desire for blood, for brutality and violence. They lived monotonous, white-bread lives, the only chances they took were in the stock market or in their fast cars, the closest they got to a bloody nose was if the air got too cold and dry at the ski resort or if they walked headlong into a sliding glass door in the dark. So, once a week, they dressed up in their pearls and diamonds and bow ties and came to see how the savages lived – they came to get the rush of the violence without actually having to dirty their hands or bloody their noses with it.
 
Spike snorted derisively and turned his attention to his opponent. The Grox’lar had at least five inches on him and probably thirty or forty pounds – his biggest advantage was his reach, which, including his claws, was probably six inches further than Spike’s. But he was slower than Spike, not nearly as agile or light on his feet, and his eyes were more to the side of his head, he couldn’t see straight on very well – those would be the weaknesses Spike would have to take advantage of.
 
The announcer motioned for the two fighters to come to the center of the ring and bang fists to begin the bout. As the two demons approached the center of the ‘ring’, Spike extended his closed fits towards the beast, just as the announcer backed away and headed for the only exit. But, instead of touching fists with him, the Grox’lar swung a clawed hand at Spike’s chest. Spike leaned back, going for a gravity-defying Matrix move, but instead fell backwards, landing on the hard floor with a thud; the beast’s claws only grazed his shirt, leaving four long tears in the fabric. Spike’s demon surfaced, more in anger at the cheap shot than anything else, and Spike let out a deep growl – the fight was on.


 
The larger demon stepped forward, lunging at Spike’s prone body, but Spike scissored his legs and tripped the Grox’lar before springing back to his feet. The beast fell to his hands and knees and before he could get back up to his feet, Spike twirled and kicked him in the face with a brutal round-house kick. Several of the sharp teeth flew out of the demon’s mouth and bounced off the wall of the pit and the Plexiglas, leaving purple blood stains dripping down the clear railing.
 
The audience inhaled sharply, then cheered as the first blood was drawn and the beast’s teeth clattered against the glass. Despite the Grox’lar making the first move, Spike had now become the aggressor, pounding down on the injured beast with his fists, trying to avoid the hard, sharp horns on his opponent’s head. Salvatore roared in anger and again swung a clawed hand at Spike’s midsection, but Spike jumped back, reflexively sucking in his stomach, and again the claws only caught fabric, not flesh.
 
As Spike caught his balance, the beast clambered back to his feet and turned in a slow circle as Spike danced around him, hands in guard position, all senses on alert, looking for another opportunity to strike.

 

“C’mon then,” Spike taunted. “Show the good folks what ya’ got…”
 
The beast growled and lunged at Spike again, swinging his sharp claws at Spike’s face. Spike ducked under his opponent’s arm and drove forward with his legs, catching Salvatore around the waist and driving him backwards all the way across the ring and slamming him against the stone on the opposite side. The beast screamed out in pain as all the air was knocked from his lung and he dug his claws into Spike’s back in an effort to dislodge the smaller man.
 
Spike’s roar of pain joined Salvatore’s, echoing off the walls of the pit and spiraling up to the crowd above, who continued to cheer the warriors on. Spike instinctively pulled back from the stabbing pain, but that tore eight long, deep gouges of bloody tissue out of his back as the beast’s claws raked savagely over the vamp’s flesh. Spike shook his head to clear the cobwebs that the painful slashes had flooded his brain with as he backed away from the larger demon. But Salvatore could smell blood … literally, and rushed at Spike and drove him backwards against the opposite wall, just as Spike had done him a moment ago.
 
Spike growled in anger and agony when his ravaged back hit the wall, he felt and heard his spine release several small pops under the pressure, but he’d had worse done to him; it wasn’t debilitating, only irritating at this point. Spike brought a knee up hard into the Grox’lar’s groin, but it had no effect at all … apparently their naughty bits were elsewhere … Bugger.
 
The beast opened his purple, bloody mouth, unhinging his jaws like a snake ready to devour a much larger prey, and bit down on Spike’s right shoulder, embedding what was left of his razor sharp teeth into Spike’s upper arm, back and upper chest. Spike punched at the demon’s head and neck with this left arm to try and dislodge him, but that only seemed to anger the beast and he started shaking his head, tearing at Spike’s flesh like a shark devouring a seal.
 
Spike screamed out in pain and redoubled his efforts, punching blindly at his opponent’s head and body. When he hit the demon on the side of his hip, the beast released its hold on Spike, roaring in pain. Spike smirked through his own agony, he’d found the Grox’lar’s naughty bits…
 
When his opponent released him and took a step back, Spike swung with his left arm, landing a clean blow on the beast’s jaw and rocking his head to the side. Spike’s right arm was hanging uselessly at his side, the torn muscles and tendons unable to function. The Grox’lar recovered quickly from the blow and retaliated with a devastating punch of his own, right on Spike’s wounded right shoulder, which sent red blood splattering over the walls of the pit and all the way up to the glass railing, drawing more cheers from the crowd.
 
Spike nearly doubled over from the pain and the beast took full advantage, coming down hard on the back of Spike’s neck and dropping the vamp to his knees. The Grox’lar could smell victory now and he punched Spike in the right shoulder again and then followed it up with a quick jab to the vamp’s jaw. Spike screamed in agony and fell the rest of the way down to the hard granite floor and the beast began kicking him in the ribs and back relentlessly. Spike tried to roll away from the blows, but the demon followed him easily, continuing to deliver painful kicks all along Spike’s torso.
 
Spike felt himself losing focus … the pain was overwhelming him and the desire to simply give up was growing stronger. He tired to remember why he was here … for the money? No – it wasn’t for the money, it was for his family. ‘I know a few Grox’lar Beasts who would pay a handsome price for a redheaded infant – redheads are in high demand, they say they are a powerful aphrodisiac.’ Mr. Shark’s words echoed in his mind. He wasn’t just fighting for the pretty green paper – he was fighting for the people that he loved, he was fighting to be the man that Buffy deserved, to be the provider for his family that he’d promised her mum and her Watcher that he’d be.
 
He knew Buffy would love him even if he didn’t do this; that she would fight by his side to protect their family from the loan shark and his goons; that she’d probably even insist that they borrow money from Red to bail Spike out of this mess that he’d made. But now it was more about self-respect and dignity than it was about money … he wanted to show her that he could be what she, and their family, deserved.
 
The next time the demon kicked at Spike’s ribs, he reached out and grabbed the beast’s ankle with his good arm and yanked on it with all this strength, sending the larger opponent down onto his ass with a thud. Spike growled in pain and frustration as he pushed up with his one arm and smothered the Grox’lar’s body with his own. The beast tried to kick Spike off, push him off, but the vamp was more determined than ever and he smashed his fist into the hip of the beast, into his sensitive naughty bits.
 
The crowd booed Spike and tried to cheer the Grox’lar back to his feet – their bets, their hard-earned dollars were in peril now, but Spike was used to being the villain and their boos only fueled his ire. The beast writhed in pain, redoubling his effort to get Spike off him and was finally able to dislodge the smaller man, knocking Spike down onto the hard floor with a painful blow to the vamp’s ravaged shoulder. Spike clenched his jaw, fighting through the pain and struggled up to his feet, regaining his balance before the Grox’lar could fully recover from the agony still radiating from his hip.
 
The beast had made it only to his hands and knees when Spike took the offensive away from him again. With one arm hanging limp at his side, the vamp took hold of one of the beast’s horns with the other and, with strength fueled by his desire to be his family’s hero, he twisted the Grox’lar’s head violently. Turning his whole body to put enough power behind the move, Spike broke the beast’s neck with a loud, satisfying crunch and the demon went completely limp. That was one demon who wouldn’t be eating any more babies.
 
The defeated beast’s body slumped to the granite and Spike raised his good arm in victory as he stumbled back away from the downed warrior. Blood ran in rivers down his ravaged back and from his devastated shoulder and he thought there might be a crack or two in the lumbar area of his spine … but he had won.
 
His first fight was over … two more and he’d qualify for the Championship tournament, five more victories after that and he’d have half a million dollars for his family and his dignity back. Despite most of them losing their bets, the crowd roared and whistled as Spike turned in a slow circle, looking up at the suburbanites and beachcombers and millionaires who were, ultimately, the ones who would be paying him that half million. Ripped, worthless betting tickets rained down on him like a ticker-tape parade as their monetary losses were outweighed by the brutality of the fight, which is what they really came here for. The bookmakers had won against fifty to one odds, the underdog had been victorious – well, the bookies won most of the bets, Spike’s betting ticket was gold – $5,000 plus of gold on this night.
 
Raj and a couple of other ‘clean-up boys’, came in to remove the defeated demon and the announcer followed them, proclaiming the newcomer, Spike, as the victor. After one last fist pump, Spike followed Raj and the others out of the pit, went back to the locker room and dropped down heavily onto one of the benches. His whole body was already starting to stiffen up and he wondered if he’d even be able to walk in the morning … but no matter, he had a week to get ready for the next fight; he could manage that.
 
“Congratulations, Spike, you survived your first challenge,” Mr. Andreev commented amiably as he walked into the locker room.
 
“Reckon I did,” Spike agreed.
 
The promoter began counting out Spike’s thousand dollars; laying ten, crisp hundred dollar bills down on the bench next to the vamp. “Next fight is Saturday night. Be here by 7:30 at the latest to get on the roster.”
 
“Saturday?” Spike questioned as he gathered the money up, folded it and stuck it down in the front pocket of his blood-stained jeans. “Thought the fights were once a bloody week.”

 

“Yeah … on Saturdays. This was a special night – just for the holiday,” the small man explained. “You can skip a night, but you have to have three wins in a row to get into the tournament – skipping a bout means you start over.”
 
“Brilliant,” Spike moaned slightly, trying to stretch his lower back to keep it from seizing up completely. “No worries, I’ll be ‘ere.”
 
“Here’s a keycard for the lock – don’t lose it,” the promoter advised, handing Spike a non-descript, red plastic card the size of a credit card.
 
“No worries.” Spike stuck that in his back pocket before retrieving his boots out of the locker and pulling them on with one hand then standing up and trying to get his duster on. Mr. Andreev helped him get his useless right arm into the sleeve and then held it for Spike to thread his other arm though. The promoter gingerly slid the duster up over Spike’s ravaged back until it was settled in place on his shoulders.
 
“I’ve heard that eucalyptus oil helps,” the promoter offered, cocking a brow towards Spike’s wounds.
 
“Jus’ need some rest … be good as new by Saturday,” Spike assured him as he pulled his betting ticket out of his duster pocket and headed for the door.
 
“Oi!” Spike called to Raj when he saw him in the hallway. “Where do ya cash this in?” he asked, holding up the ticket.
 
“Raj show you!” the boy offered with grin, waving an arm, indicating that Spike should follow him.
 
Raj showed Spike the stairs that led up to the rear of the betting windows. For obvious reasons, they didn’t want the fighters to mingle with the patrons, so they had their own betting window completely separate from the public windows which faced the pit.
 
Spike handed his ticket to the woman inside the heavily fortified booth and was shortly rewarded with $5,239.50 in cash. Spike breathed a sigh of relief as he watched the clerk inside the armored betting cage count the money out and slide it through the small slot to him. He picked it up and dropped the change in his pocket before fanning the bills under his nose … nothing smelled like money and it had been a while since he’d had this much cash in his hand at one time.
 
“’ere,” Spike offered, opening his eyes and looking at Raj. Spike pulled a $50 out and handed it to the boy and Raj’s eyes lit up like Christmas had come early. If not for him, Spike may not have even gotten the bet placed … that garnered a decent reward in Spike’s book.
 
The boy looked at the bill like he’d never seen anything so beautiful, turning it over and over in his hands before looking back up at Spike. “Thanks, Kiwi!” Raj exclaimed gleefully. “You tour now?”
 
“No … save the tour for next time … and I’m not a bloody ‘Kiwi’,” Spike insisted.
 
“Raj know! You Kiwi,” Raj insisted with a happy nod, his white teeth gleaming in a wide smile. “Kiwi Spike.”
 
“It’s your accent – boy’s never met a Fenian before, thinks you’re from Oz. We had a few Tasm’ni Demons from down under a couple of years ago, they taught it to him,” the woman behind the betting window informed Spike. Spike placed her accent as Brooklyn, he'd bet the Bay Ridge neighborhood, if he was a betting man. “Just go with it, honey, you’ll never win once he labels you.”
 
Spike glared at the woman, his jaw ticcing in barely repressed anger and agitation. Fenian? How could anyone think he was a bloody Irish Catholic ponce like Angel?  If looks could kill, there would be one less employee in the betting office just about now.
 
Spike finally took a deep breath, shook his head, and rolled his eyes before looking back at Raj’s elated face. He reckoned he’d been mistaken for and called worse than a Kiwi … Fenian, for instance.




**~**

{{Click here to hear “Ya’ll Ready For This? / Let’s Get Ready to Rumble” on YouTube }}
End Notes:
TBC ... We're gonna check back in with Bess next, then come back to SunnyD and see how Spike's career as a 'No Holds Barred' fighter goes and if Mr. Shark will accept Spike's partial payment on his loan.
The House that Built Me by Passion4Spike
Author's Notes:
First of all, I wish you all a happy 2012! My evil, blue-eyed muse wanted to start it off right with some sniffles for you ... so here you go! He's evil, ya know?
**
Bess makes it to Philly … what will she find there?
**
Music Referenced:
The House That Built Me by Miranda Lambert http://youtu.be/nBgM5ZRzzjI
 **
ScreenCaps courtesy of ScreenCap Paradise: http://www.screencap-paradise.com/?cat=3
**
Thanks to 'epd4' for betaing this chapter. Any mistakes are mine because I can't stop fiddling ...
Bess, from Cleveland, OH to Philadelphia, PA:
 
Bess and Angelpie made their way from Cleveland to Philadelphia through rain and snow and freezing temperatures, which didn’t bother the kitten so much since she was tucked away safe and sound in her cozy rain and wind-proof saddlebag, but forced Bess to stop several times and wait out the weather when it got too hard to control the bike. She didn’t want to take a chance of wrecking the Harley … she had $250 to her name and that wouldn’t buy many repairs. Spike had bailed her out before, she doubted he’d do it again.
 
Bess continued working with Angelpie, massaging her leg and hip and moving it like the vet had shown her in order to restore the range of motion, and she thought the kitten was actually improving and not limping as badly. Dr. Lowenbram said it could take a while, so Bess remained patient and diligent with the kitten’s physical therapy routine, hopeful that her little friend could make a full recovery.

 


(Four days since leaving Cleveland),
The day before Thanksgiving, Wednesday, November 25th, 2010, noon, Philadelphia, PA:

 
Bess had no problem following the map that Sammy had given her all those weeks ago to Philly, however once she got to the city that she’d spent almost ten years in with Wanda and John, Bess was lost. She found the hill and the river, and Chestnut and Walnut Streets, but almost everything looked different now. There were shopping centers and ballparks and movie theatres and Starbucks and McDonalds. Streets that she remembered as going through to her neighborhood were now dead-ends, bisected by interstate highways. She was starting to get the idea that it was an omen … perhaps she was simply too late.

 

She finally stopped at a quick mart and bought a map of the city (along with some condensed milk and a box of cat food) and asked the clerk for directions to Cherry Street.
 
“Which one?” the clerk asked.
 
“There’s more than one?” Bess questioned with a sigh.
 
“A few … here,” the clerk offered, opening the city map that Bess had just purchased. “There’s an index … see, it gives you the coordinates of them … looks like … six or seven?”
 
“Are any near Lemon Tree Hill?” Bess wondered.
 
The clerk shook her head. “Not sure, hun… you’ll just have to look.”

 

Bess sighed and folded the map back up and thanked the woman before heading back outside. Bess sat on the curb with Angelpie and studied the map while the kitten lapped up some milk and munched on the cat food. Bess should’ve asked the clerk to point out just where she was now, but she felt stupid admitting that she not only didn’t know where she was going, but didn’t know where she was, either. It took Bess fifteen minutes to figure out where they were … she should’ve bought a pen too. Damn it.
 
Bess left Angelpie on the curb cleaning up after her meal and went back in the store to get a pen, when she came back out there was a woman kneeling next to the kitten, petting her and Angelpie, as usual, was purring and arching her back against the woman’s hand.
 
“Sorry … I hope she’s not bothering you,” Bess began, retrieving the kitten, picking up the empty saucer, the bottle of milk, and the box of cat food and starting towards the motorbike with them.
 
“Oh no, child,” the woman assured her. “She’s perfectly adorable.”
 
When the woman spoke, Bess turned around – the voice – it sounded like … but no, it couldn’t be. It was her mind playing tricks on her again, just like it had done in Renaldo when she thought her attorney was her mother. Bess studied the woman carefully, the resemblance to Wanda was nothing short of amazing, certainly older, but still … and the voice … But Wanda was long dead. Long, long gone.
 
Bess furrowed her brow and moved back towards the woman. “What’s her name?” the stranger asked Bess.
 
“Huh …who? Oh!” Bess realized, bouncing the kitten gently in her hand. “Sweetie Puddin’ Angelpie … I just call her Angelpie for short.”
 
“That’s a lovely name. Is she your guardian angel?” the woman wondered. There was no mocking in her voice, just a kind gentleness.
 
Bess looked down at her little friend. “Yeah … you could say that. She saved my life, so now I belong to her.”
 
The woman smiled softly and nodded as if that was something she heard every day, then asked, “Are you from around here?”
 
Bess snorted softly and shook her head. “I’m not really sure where ‘around here’ is,” she admitted. “I grew up on Cherry Street, but now … I don’t know which one.”
 
Bess sat Angelpie on the seat of the Harley and put the saucer and food in the saddlebag before unfolding the map again. “I mean … I guess there are a few,” Bess observed with a sigh. “The one I’m looking for is near Lemon Tree Hill…”
 
The woman took the pen from Bess’ hand and put a mark on the map designating where they were now, then drew a line, following the streets on the map and ending up on Cherry Street. “Lemon Tree Hill is here,” the woman pointed out, putting an ‘X’ on the map not far from where the route she’d drawn ended.
 
“Don’t dawdle too long, child …” the woman advised, handing the pen back to Bess. “Things can change minute to minute in this city.”
 
“Oh, thank you … I …” Bess looked up from the map and the woman was gone. Bess looked right and left, then turned in a complete circle, scanning the store and the street, but there was no sign of her. She furrowed her brow and shook her head as she looked at the route on the map the woman had drawn.
 
“Well, Angelpie … I guess we shouldn’t ‘dawdle’ around here anymore,” Bess told the kitten as she got her bearings and folded the map so she could see the whole route easily. Bess slipped Angelpie back in her saddlebag and tucked the map under her so it was sticking out between her legs within easy reach and started the Harley.
 
Bess drove slowly, stopping frequently to check the map, but finally arrived on Cherry Street. This section of the street, which was another of the roads bisected and cutoff by the modern interstate, was completely lined on each side with six foot high chain link fencing; not the nice kind, but the temporary kind like you’d see around a construction site. All the houses on either side of the street were abandoned, doors and windows stood open, the planters that were once well tended now held nothing but brown, frozen weeds, the sidewalks that had once been smooth and new were broken and crumbling and strewn with crack pipes and syringes and brass bullet casings.

 

Bess blinked back tears as she realized that this was, indeed, the street where she grew up. She made her way down the road and stopped in front of a house in the middle of the block and cut the motor. The once red brick had been painted over white, and was now covered with graffiti, gang tags, and obscenities. The front porch, where she and her siblings had spent many a summer evening playing games and telling stories, now stood at an odd angle from the house, the rafters rotten, the floor nearly non-existent. The yard that her dad took so much pride in, and fussed over all summer long, was overgrown with weeds some in places and reduced nothing but bare dirt in others. The windows all stood dark and empty; the lovely, hand woven, Venetian lace curtains that her father had saved nearly six months for and ordered directly from Italy to give Wanda for their wedding anniversary shortly after they moved in, were long gone.
 
Bess’s chin quivered as she surveyed the remains of her house and the tears she’d been holding back leaked from her eyes. What had Spike said in London? ‘You can’t go home again …’
 
“You aren’t supposed to be here. Didn’t you see the signs?” a male voice brought Bess out of her bittersweet memories.
 
Bess looked around at the man that was speaking to her. He had on a uniform with a fire department insignia on the sleeve.
 
“No … I … what signs?” Bess stammered, looking back the way she’d come.
 
“Damn junkies!” the man exclaimed, looking down the street as well. “They keep tearing them down …”
 
“Why can’t I be here?” Bess wondered, remembering Spike’s contention that it was a ‘free country’, she could park wherever she wanted.
 
“This whole area is condemned. We’re going to be burning these houses down as training exercises starting Friday…” the man explained.
 
“Burning … you’re going to burn them down?” Bess asked with distress, looking at ‘her’ house. “But … but surely they can be repaired …”
 
“The developer needs them gone to make way for new condos … they’ve been sitting empty for months now while they got the permits required and this whole area’s turned into one big crack house,” the fireman explained.
 
Bess frowned as her dream came back to her of her family inside the house as it burned. She looked back at the house, but the windows were dark and empty, there were no faces looking back at her. Her family wasn’t in there, they were gone – long gone. There was no one left to save.
 
“I … I grew up here …” Bess told the man. “Could I just stay a little while? I swear I won’t hurt anything. I’d just like to look around one more time,” she requested, her eyes misty.
 
The man sighed as he looked at her. She was obviously upset and not one of the junkies that had been using the houses… “Ok, but be careful, don’t go inside, it’s not safe. Just stay in the yard,” he advised her. “There’s a gate over here you can go in…” he offered, waving a hand towards a gate that looked like it had been jimmied open a time or two … or ten.
 
“Thank you,” Bess replied with an appreciative smile as she dropped the kickstand and dismounted. She retrieved Angelpie from the saddlebag and tucked the map away before following him to the gate.
 
“Be careful and don’t stay too long; you don’t want to be here after dark, it’s not safe. If I’m not here when you come out, lock it back up, ok?”
 
“Sure … that’s no problem. I won’t be long …” Bess assured him as she slipped through the gate and started down the sidewalk towards her childhood home.
 
**~**
 
Bess walked slowly around the dilapidated house with Angelpie’s head tucked up and under her chin. She peered in the windows with a mixture of melancholy and disappointment. She wasn’t sure what she expected to see … her mother’s furniture? The lace curtains? Her siblings reading or playing games in the parlour? Her father filling his pipe and reading the newspaper? Whatever had once been there was gone, all that remained was an old wooden, kitchen chair, a few mismatched sofa cushions, a couple of broken, plastic dolls, apparently left from the last occupants of the house, and a whole lot of dirt. Her mother would’ve been appalled.
 
Bess chuckled sadly as she stroked a hand softly down Angelpie’s back and the kitten purred against her throat. “If Mom was here, she would’ve put us all to cleaning this mess up,” Bess told the kitten. “Even you.”
 
The kitten meowed her agreement … or perhaps it was a protest, and Bess dropped a kiss on the top of her friend’s head. “Don’t worry … I won’t make you clean it up.”
 
Bess looked up as she heard a car pass on the street out front – the fireman was leaving – finally! Bess headed back out to the street, tucked her kitten back in its little ‘room’, and rolled the Harley in through the gate in the chain link fence and all the way to the back yard of her house before setting it up on its kickstand near the back door.
 
The sun was nearly down now … it would be dark soon. Bess got Angelpie back out of her saddlebag along with the rest of the cat food and the milk as well as her little friend’s saucer, and together they ventured up to the back door of the house.
 
The door stood slightly ajar. Bess pushed on it lightly, but it didn’t budge; she pushed harder. The door scraped roughly over the wooden floor and the hinges creaked shrilly, protesting her insistence that the door move from its resting place. With the backdoor now fully open, the Slayer-vamp took a deep breath as she looked into the old kitchen. How many family meals had been prepared here? How many times had Bess herself stood at the sink, looking out that very window into the backyard and washed the dishes as Anne or William dried them? It seemed somehow ironic now that, at the time, Bess wanted nothing more than to be out in that backyard rather than inside doing the dishes, and now Bess would give anything to have a sink full of pots and pans to scrub alongside her siblings.
 
Bess blew out the breath she’d been holding and stepped over the threshold into the kitchen. “Welcome to my home,” she whispered to Angelpie. “Sorry about the mess… the maid hasn’t come yet this century.”
 
Suddenly there was a swirl of gold and silver sparkling lights, like a hundred little stars, which twirled around Bess and Angelpie then spread out and multiplied, transforming everything they touched from a cold, ramshackle mess to a warm, pristine, turn-of-the-century home.

 

Bess sucked in a deep, surprised breath as the world around her morphed and time rolled back. The kitchen was suddenly full of life, Anne and William were at the table helping their mother shape candy cane cookies, just like Nellie had done in years past, the smell of turkey roasting in the oven filled the whole house with nothing short of love, her father was in the parlour, she could smell the sweet tobacco of his smoldering pipe as he called to Wanda asking when dinner was going to be ready.
 
Bess stepped forward. “Mom? Mommy?” she called, reaching out to them “Anne! William!” she cried, but her hand passed right through them – they didn’t hear her, didn’t see her. Was she the ghost or were they?
 
Bess sat Angelpie down next to Anne then turned and headed to the parlour. “Dad?” she tried. “Please! Please tell me you can see me!” she begged, but he was tending his pipe, cleaning it and re-stuffing it with fresh tobacco, heedless of her presence.
 
Bess scanned the room. A simple, hand-cut Christmas tree stood in front of the picture window at the front of the room. The decorations were mostly things that they kids had made or found in the woods … mistletoe and holly berries, popcorn strung on long strings, garlands of snowflakes cut out of paper. The top was decorated with one of the few store-bought things they had; a beautiful porcelain angel with blonde hair, swathed in an ivory cloak made of delicate paper, with golden wings and a gold lamé shawl.

 

The front door opened and Bess watched herself bound in from the cold, her arms full of firewood and her cheeks rosy from the brisk winter air. She dropped the wood on the floor next to the fire which crackled in the hearth and cast a warm glow over the entire room. Her father came over and helped her stoke the flame and added another log. “Now … go see if you can light a fire under your mum 'fore I waste away to nothing,” John instructed the ghostly Bess, his English accent still quite evident despite the years in America.
 
She watched herself roll her eyes and laugh as she patted a hand on her father’s bulging tummy before bouncing happily from the front room to the kitchen, passing right through Bess like she wasn’t even there.
 
Bess remembered this – it was the last Christmas before she was taken away to England … it was her last Christmas at home, her last Christmas as a normal girl – her last Christmas with her family … with love.
 
“They can’t hear you, child,” a familiar voice divulged from behind Bess.
 
Bess whirled. It was the woman from the quick mart – the one who had drawn the route on the map for her. “Who are you? What’s … what’s going on?”
 
The woman shrugged slightly. “I’m Angelpie’s partner in crime, my child …” the guardian angel advised.
 
Bess looked from the apparition of her mother to the woman standing in front of her. Her mother was younger … by many years, but now there was no doubt in Bess’ mind – they were one and the same person.
 
“Mom?” Bess whimpered, unable to stop the tears from flowing as she moved quickly towards Wanda and pulled her into a tight hug.
 
“There, now, child … no need for tears,” Wanda cajoled, wrapping her arms around her daughter.
 
Bess cried against her, taking comfort in her embrace, as the family from her past carried on around them – laughing and talking and just being a family, oblivious of them or that this would be their last Christmas together.
 
When Bess had calmed down a bit, Wanda guided her into the front room, Angelpie tagging along behind them, and they sat on the floor near the warmth of the fire.
 
“How is this possible?” Bess wondered, leaning into her mother’s side and holding tightly to her hand lest she disappear again.
 
“When I passed, the Powers gave me a choice – I could go on to the next dimension, or stay in this one as a guardian angel and watch over my family. I had faith that I would be able to help your parents bring you back into the fold one day … and that day finally came,” Wanda explained as she ran a hand gently over Bess’ soft curls.
 
“What … what do you mean my parents? You and John are my parents,” Bess insisted.
 
“No, child – you know that’s not true. We never hid the fact that we were your adopted parents from you children,” Wanda chastised lightly. “You’re a special girl, made from two very special people, two strong warriors who love you very much.
 
“I’m sorry that John and I were unable to protect you … we were ignorant in the ways of magicks and demons then. I promised William I would keep you safe and love you as my own. I could only keep one of my promises to him, and for that I am truly repentant,” Wanda continued softly.
 


Bess stroked one hand down Angelpie’s back as the kitten rubbed against her leg as she listened to her mother and considered her words. “So … Spike and Buffy really are my parents…” she deduced softly.
 
“Yes, child … but you already knew that, didn’t you?” Wanda pointed out.
 
Bess snorted out a sigh, then nodded slightly.
 
“If they love me so much, why did they leave?” Bess questioned, drawing her glistening eyes away from the kitten and up to Wanda. “Why does everyone always leave? What’s wrong with me?”
 
“You keep asking the same question, child – but you aren’t hearing the answer,” Wanda advised her gently.
 
“Buffy said they didn’t have any choice…” Bess offered. “Spike said it wasn’t me, it was him that was ‘unworthy’.”
 
“And do you believe they were lying?”
 
Bess sighed heavily and looked back down at the kitten. “No … I guess not.”
 
“You guess not or you know not?” Wanda pressed. “Have Buffy and William lied to you about other things?”
 
Bess sniffed and wiped at her nose with the sleeve of her jacket, but didn’t answer.
 
“You think they were being too hard on you … too many rules, not enough freedom,” Wanda surmised.
 
“I’ve lived over a century … I’m not a child,” Bess defended.
 
“That may be true, but the world has changed since you last lived in it. They were only trying to keep you safe … perhaps let you get some of that childhood back that you were cheated out of. Everything they did they did out of love, you must know that,” Wanda pointed out.
 
When Bess remained silent, Wanda tried a different approach. “Look around you … what do you see here?”
 
Bess looked around them at her ‘other life’, a life that she wished above anything else she could’ve stayed in, that she could jump back into right this minute if given the choice. “My family…” Bess murmured.
 
“No … you see a memory … a dream of a family that is long dead, my child. Your family is in Sunnydale, and they’re waiting for you to come home,” Wanda declared.
 
“Bess … I know you had to build a wall around your heart and soul in order to survive. You walled this memory in there with you … a golden, happy time that your heart clung to when the world outside was dark and painful. But it’s time to let this dream go, my child.
 
“Buffy and William risked everything to get you out of the dark. It’s time to drop the walls, open the gates, and let them into your heart – it’s time to make new memories with a family that loves you just as much as we did. Don’t be afraid, Elizabeth, I know you’re strong – you need to fight now … don’t let the bastards win,” Wanda admonished her.
 
“Mom!” Bess exclaimed, looking at Wanda with wide eyes. “When did you start cursing? You would’ve made me eat a whole bar of soap if I’d said that!”
 
Wanda smiled softly and shrugged. “Well … it makes me cross to think that the Council not only stole you from us, but they’re still keeping you from your family,” Wanda defended. “The Lord will forgive me for calling a spade a spade.”
 
Bess pulled her bottom lip into her mouth and looked around the house. It was one of her favorite memories – that last Christmas with her family was one thing she clung when she had nothing else. It gave her warmth when she was cold and company when she was lonely and a little slice of comfort when she was distraught.
 
“You’re a beautiful girl with a generous heart and a strong soul, and you deserve to feel the love that you’ve been denying yourself. The heart always knows what the mind cannot fathom,” Wanda repeated the ageless advice that she’d given more than one of her children and charges over the years. “But it can’t guide you from behind the walls you’ve constructed, my child. You have to let it out into the light…”
 
Bess looked back at Wanda with a mixture of fear and disbelief. “I … I don’t know if I can. I don’t know how to be anything but alone … I …” she started.
 
“You know how, child, you’re simply afraid,” Wanda corrected her. “When your little savior was hurt, were you frightened?” the guardian angel asked, running a hand over Angelpie’s back.
 
“Yes…”
 
“But that didn’t stop you from trying to save her, did it? You didn’t shirk from the fear … you didn’t take time to think, you just reacted, you let your heart guide you with your new little friend and you saved her, didn’t you?” Wanda asked softly.
 
“Yes…” Bess admitted.
 
“You have it within you, child. You are a Summers, you are a Weckerly, you’re a warrior – you’re a Slayer. If you believe nothing else, believe this. You can do anything … absolutely anything that you set out to do is within your reach,” Wanda admonished her.
 
“I … I did some … bad things. I said some horrible things to Buffy … I’m not sure they’ll even want me back,” Bess confessed.
 
“They are your parents, child. They will love you with their last breath and forgive you your every trespass. Go to them, let them remind you what love can be, what a family can be. This memory is all that’s left of us, sweet Bess,” Wanda told her, waving a hand at the ghostly apparitions of Bess’ childhood family.  “But there are a million new memories just as wonderful waiting to be made if you’ll just give them a chance,” Wanda assured her.
 
“Will you … can you come with me?” Bess wondered hopefully.
 
Wanda shook her head slowly. “This is something you must do on your own. Only you can take the walls down and let them into your heart – only you can overcome the hold the fear has on you. But I’ll never be far, child … just as close as your fondest memories of this house and this family.”
 
“Will I ever see you again?” Bess asked, her voice small and sullen.
 
“Perhaps one day. But your little angel here will be my proxy, and I think she’ll be by your side for a long while,” Wanda assured her, stroking Angelpie’s soft coat gently before touching a magical finger to the kitten’s injured hip, once again bending the rules governing her position as a messenger ever so slightly.
 
“I love you Mommy…” Bess whispered to the woman she would always and forever consider her mother.
 
“I love you too, Bess – I couldn’t love you more if you were my own blood,” Wanda replied, pulling the girl into a tight hug.
 
Bess closed her eyes and held to her mother with all her strength, not wanting to ever let go. That soft breeze that had been billowing lightly through her mind since she first met Spike began to blow again within the Slayer-vamp’s heart. The refreshing zephyr seemed to swirl all around her, carrying the sweet scent of Lily of the Valley with it and kissing her skin with delicate wisps of … love and hope. They were the feelings she’d been fighting for so long and now they engulfed her like an ethereal shroud. They had escaped their dungeon where she’d locked them, deep in the darkest recesses of her heart, and now they were free – there was no putting them back now. Now that they were dancing in the light, wafting higher into the clear blue sky like fluffy clouds, there would be no way to contain them again … Bess would now have to learn to live with love and hope – she had no other choice.
 
Bess began to weep against Wanda’s shoulder – she wept for the family she lost, she wept for everything that being a Slayer stole from her, she wept for lost dreams and lost hope, and finally, she wept for the friends and family she’d left behind in Sunnydale. Despite her best efforts and the protective wall, they had embedded themselves into her heart, she just hadn’t wanted to acknowledge it before … she’d been afraid to admit that she loved them – that she actually needed them and hungered for their affection. Not caring seemed easier to her frightened heart; running away seemed safer to her fragile ego; if you didn’t try, you couldn’t fail; if you left them, they couldn’t leave you. But she now realized what her heart truly yearned for and it wasn’t just being loved, but giving love in return.
 
At long last, all of her: body, heart, and soul, was free of the dungeon. The question now was – what would she do with this newfound freedom?
 
**~**
 
(Two days later) The day after Thanksgiving, Friday, November 27th, 2010, 6am, Philadelphia, PA:
 
A shaft of warm sunlight filtered through Bess’ closed lids, slowly waking her from the most wonderful dream. She’d been with her family, her Philadelphia family. It was Christmas and all the children were giddy with excitement over the presents that ‘Santa’ had left under the tree. Bess and Anne, of course, were too old for Santa, but William still believed, so they all had gifts under the tree from Jolly St. Nick. As they were opening the presents, Billy had appeared and, for the first time in a very long time, Bess invited him to join her. She introduced him to Anne and William and Wanda and John and they all spent a magical day together, laughing, playing, eating, singing hymns and carols … just being a family.
 
Bess sat up slowly, rubbing her tear-swollen, bloodshot eyes and Angelpie stirred next to her, yawning widely and stretching her back and limbs. Bess looked around … the house was empty, the fireplace at her back, which had been so warm during the night, was cold, not even an ember remained. Had it all been a dream? Not just her family, but Wanda coming to her … it felt so real; her puffy eyes a testament to the tears she’d shed … she thought she could still smell the turkey roasting in the oven. Bess stood up stiffly and stretched her arms over her head and the aroma of turkey and dressing and sweet potatoes seemed to get even stronger.
 
Bess drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly as Angelpie rubbed against her leg, arching her back and making small mewing sounds as she moved. Bess took another look around the abandoned parlour and a feeling of melancholy came over her. For a moment she wished she could’ve just gone back into the dream … just stayed there and never woken up. Then Wanda’s assurances came back to her and Billy’s words in the dream … “Please come back,” he’d begged her before he had to go. “We all miss you.”
 
Tears stung Bess’ eyes as she leaned down and picked her kitten up and cuddled her against her chest. She closed her eyes and let the hazy, warm memory of the dream run through her mind so she wouldn’t forget – she never wanted to forget that feeling. It was the feeling she’d fought for so long, it was the monster hiding in the shadows under her bed, the thing that frightened her the most, and now she didn’t want to lose it; didn’t want to let go.
 
After few minutes, Bess opened her eyes and furrowed her brow. The house was empty, cold, dirty … nothing remained of the dream at all … except … she could still smell it – and it wasn’t her imagination. Bess started walking towards the kitchen, but the smell seemed to get weaker, so she turned and followed her nose towards the front door. She opened the door with some difficulty, as its one remaining hinge protested with a rusty creak, but finally found the source of the aroma. Outside, on the listing front porch, were two Tupperware containers filled to overflowing with food – turkey and yams, potatoes and gravy, green beans and stuffing filled one and desserts of every description in the other. Beside the containers sat the angel tree-topper from her youth, just as beautiful and unmarred as it had been all those years ago.

 

Bess picked up the presents and brought them back inside. It hadn’t all been a dream after all … Wanda had been there; she really was a Guardian Angel. Bess smiled sadly as she cleaned a place on the hearth and sat the angel tree-topper down and Angelpie immediately snuggled up against it.
 
“My two angels …” Bess murmured rubbing a hand down Angelpie’s back before opening the Thanksgiving feast and sharing the bounty with her little friend.
 
Bess pulled the note off the top of the dessert container and opened it, but confusion furrowed her brow … it was all numbers…
 
2-5-19-19,
 
25-15-21-18 16-12-1-3-5 1-20 15-21-18 20-1-2-12-5, 9-14 15-21-18 8-15-13-5 1-14-4 9-14 15-21-18 8-5-1-18-20-19 23-9-12-12 1-12-23-1-25-19 2-5 23-1-9-20-9-14-7 6-15-18 25-15-21.
 
23-5 12-15-22-5 25-15-21 1-14-4 20-8-1-20 23-9-12-12 14-5-22-5-18 3-8-1-14-7-5.
 
13-9-19-19-9-14-7 25-15-21,
 
2-21-6-6-25, 19-16-9-11-5, 1-14-14-9-5, 4-1-14-9, 2-9-12-12-25, 1-14-4 25-15-21-18 14-5-23 19-9-19-20-5-18 13-1-3-11-5-14-26-9-5
 
Bess turned the note over in her hand, looking at the back, then looked at the front it again. Not only were they putting letters in math, now they were putting numbers in notes… where did the insanity of this world she’d been delivered into end?
 
As she turned the paper over in her hands again, a shaft of sunlight flashed off her Scooby decoder ring. Bess laughed and jumped up from where she’d sat down on the floor with her meal and sprinted out the back door to retrieve her pen from the Harley. Angelpie took the opportunity to help herself to more turkey and gravy as she waited for her human to come back.

 

Bess plopped back down on the floor next to the kitten and began eagerly decoding the message using the ring. Tears stung her eyes when she read the decoded message:
 

Bess,
 Your place at our table, in our home and in our hearts will always be waiting for you. We love you and that will never change.
 Missing you,
 Buffy, Spike, Annie, Dani, Billy, and, your new sister, MacKenzie

 
Bess looked around the room – had Billy actually been here too? She jumped up again and ran up the stairs and searched the whole house, but there was no sign of her brother … her brother
 
“My brother, Billy …” Bess repeated slowly out loud as she came back down the rickety stairs. “My new sister, Mac - Kenzie … MacKenzie …” she sounded out, enjoying the feel of it on her lips.
 
Then she thought perhaps they were waiting outside for her, so she ventured back out the front door onto the rotted front porch to see if they were out there, but they weren’t.
 
“Hey!” a familiar voice called to her from the street. “What are you doing here?! I told you we were burning these down today! You need to get out of there!”
 
Bess looked towards the voice – it was the fireman. “Oh! I … today?” she questioned. “But … I thought Friday…”
 
“It is Friday, missy! What are you doing back here?” he asked again moving closer to the house.
 
“Oh … I … uhhh … must’ve lost track of time. I’m just … I was just saying goodbye,” Bess explained, wondering how she’d slept for an entire day and night. Perhaps she’d simply not wanted to leave the magic of the dream she’d been drawn into, didn’t want to leave the comfort of that time with Wanda and John and her siblings. “I’ll be right out…” she called back to the fireman.
 
“You better be! If my boss finds out I let you in there, he’ll have my hide!” the man informed her tersely.
 
Bess nodded and picked her way across the wobbly floorboards back into the house. She quickly gathered up both her angels, the kitten and the tree-topper, along with the meal and stuffed the note down into the pocket of her jeans and headed out back to get the Harley.
 
On her way down the back steps, she pulled a loose brick out of the piling that held the back porch roof up … it had been loose even when she lived there – it really was a wonder it was still sitting there in place. She packed Angelpie and the topper and her brick into the saddlebags, sat the holiday meal platters on the seat and pushed the bike out of the backyard, down the sidewalk, through the gate and into the street.

 

She’d no sooner gotten out than a several fire trucks made their way down the closed-off street and men and women began scurrying around, attaching hoses to fire hydrants and getting ready for the training exercise. Bess took the Harley down the road a bit and tried to be invisible as she watched the spectacle. The only one that seemed to even notice she was there was the man that had originally let her in, but he pretended to not see her.
 
The firefighters dropped the chain-link fence on one side of the street and before long it was time to start the actual training. Bess watched as they burned, then extinguished one house after another on the street she’d ‘grown up’ on. The Jansen’s, the Baker’s, the Reibenfeld’s … then it was the Weatherford’s turn.
 
Tears stained her face as she sat on the motorcycle and held Angelpie as her house … her family’s house … began to burn. The memory of the dream that originally spurred her to leave Cleveland flashed in her mind and she studied the windows for the faces of her family … and there they were. But they weren’t upset or crying or calling to her to save them, they were smiling and waving at her – they were saying goodbye, their final farewell.
 
Bess watched as the house was engulfed in flames and the ghosts of her family rose up in the dark smoke that lifted to the heavens. Diaphanous angels in the billowing clouds of smoke waved and smiled softly down on her as they implored her silently to let them go.
 
Bess lifted her hand waved tentatively towards the sky in bittersweet acquiescence as Wanda’s words echoed in her mind.
 
“This memory is all that’s left of us, child. But there are a million new memories just as wonderful waiting to be made if you’ll just give them a chance.”
 
Bess sighed sadly as the firefighters began raining water down on the house, extinguishing the blaze. “I love you all so much. I’ll never forget you … I’ll never forget this place or the love you gave me,” Bess assured her ghostly family as tears continued to streak her face. She tucked Angelpie back into her cozy saddlebag and secured the rest of the Thanksgiving bounty in the seat behind her with some bungee cords then cranked the rumbling motor of the Harley and guided it slowly away; away from Cherry Street, away from Lemon Tree Hill … then away from Philadelphia.

**~**

Fun Fact:

To call a spade a spade, which simply means 'to speak plainly and bluntly; to speak without euphemisms', is first found in Ancient Greece.

The exact origin is uncertain; the playwright Menander, in a fragment, said, "I call a fig a fig, a spade a spade," but Lucian attributes the phrase to Aristophanes. Later, Plutarch notes that, "The Macedonians are a rude and clownish people who call a spade a spade."

After it first appeared in English in the sixteenth century, the saying became quite common, and was used in various forms and allusions. My favorite English example:


Cecily: When I see a spade I call it a spade.

Gwendolen: I am glad to say I have never seen a spade. It is obvious that our social spheres have been widely different.

--Oscar Wilde, The Importance of Being Earnest



**~** 

{{Click here to hear “The House that Built Me” by Miranda Lambert on YouTube  }}


I know they say you can’t go home again
I just had to come back one last time
Ma’am I know you don’t know me from Adam
But these handprints on the front steps are mine

Up those stairs in that little back bedroom
Is where I did my homework and I learned to play guitar
I bet you didn’t know under that live oak
My favorite dog is buried in the yard

I thought if I could touch this place or feel it
This brokenness inside me might start healing
Out here it’s like I’m someone else
I thought that maybe I could find myself

If I could just come in I swear I’ll leave
Won’t take nothing but a memory
From the house that built me

Mama cut out pictures of houses for years
From Better Homes and Gardens magazine
Plans were drawn and concrete poured
Nail by nail and board by board
Daddy gave life to mama’s dream

I thought if I could touch this place or feel it
This brokenness inside me might start healing
Out here it’s like I’m someone else
I thought that maybe I could find myself

If I could just come in I swear I’ll leave
Won’t take nothing but a memory
From the house that built me

You leave home and you move on and you do the best you can
I got lost in this old world and forgot who I am

I thought if I could touch this place or feel it
This brokenness inside me might start healing
Out here it’s like I’m someone else
I thought that maybe I could find myself

If I could walk around I swear I’ll leave
Won’t take nothing but a memory
From the house that built me
End Notes:
TBC ... we'll be back in SunnyD next to see what's going on with Spike, Mr. Shark and the fight club.
Tangled Up In You by Passion4Spike
Author's Notes:
Life goes on in SunnyD. Unbeknownst to each other, Spike and Buffy are both trying to find ways to solve their financial woes once and for all.
**
Music Referenced:
Tangled Up in You by Staind http://youtu.be/tEZ2BYDVXKw
 **
ScreenCaps courtesy of ScreenCap Paradise: http://www.screencap-paradise.com/?cat=3
(1 week after Thanksgiving) Wednesday, December 1st, 2010, 2:00pm, Sunnydale:

 

Buffy eyed her adversary warily, circling slowly, first one way then the other, sizing the demon up. The light glinted off the beast’s shiny armor and flashed in the Slayer’s eyes at certain angles, making her shift her gaze downwards to the dark, sturdy legs and tail of her opponent. The long, thin tail which hung down to the floor sported what looked like a heavy mallet on the end … she’d need to keep an eye on that, as well.  The demon seemed unconcerned by the proximity of the Slayer and mocked her by refusing to even acknowledge her presence – as if daring her to make the first move.
 
“I’ve fought worse than you and won,” Buffy informed the metallic beast as she continued to bide her time as she searched for a chink in its impressive armor.
 
“You think just because I’ve never faced your kind before that I can’t win … you’d be wrong,” Buffy continued as she watched the beast warily. “I’m the Slayer … and anything Spike can do, I can do better … or well … mostly – almost anything. I’m not great at the bitey, GRRR-ARGH thing …but this … I can do this.”
 
The beastly-machine continued to mock her, not moving, not responding, not making any concessions to her Slayerhood. If Buffy was going to prevail, she would have to make the first move … she would have to … sew.
 
Buffy sighed and sat down in front of her mother’s old Singer, pulling out the pattern that Billy had brought home from school the previous day and the material she’d purchased at the fabric store. Billy’s class was putting on a play for the holidays … but, in the spirit of being ‘politically correct’, instead of doing a Christmas play, they were doing a non-holiday, Winnie the Pooh production, and Billy had the part of Eeyore. But, in order to do that, someone had to create the costume for him…and that involved sewing.

 

Buffy had successfully conned Spike into putting buttons back on their clothing, but he wasn’t going for this – plus, he was just too knackered anyway. He’d been working his ass off trying to keep them afloat and, with December 25th fast approaching, the worry of how to provide any kind of decent Christmas for the kids was intensifying by the day.
 
Buffy continued to press Willow and Tara and even Annie, to a much lesser degree, to find an answer in those books that Giles had found and somehow come up with another Gem for Spike. He’d come home on Thanksgiving night beat all to hell … his back and shoulder looked like it had been through a meat grinder, he could barely walk by the time he got home and collapsed just inside the garage door. A Grox’lar Beast, he’d told Buffy, objected to being beaten at snooker. Buffy thought a Grox’lar must be a cross between Jaws and Freddy Krueger from the look of Spike’s wounds. On the plus side, Spike had won $500 from the beast, which he gave her to help with the bills, but that really was little consolation considering Spike’s injuries, which also made it impossible for her to thank him properly for his ‘Master Basting’ … which was disappointing for them both.
 
Then, on Saturday night, just as he was starting to get the use of his right arm back, he’d come home with fresh bruises on his face, some cracked ribs, and a stab wound in his left thigh that looked like a saber had gone all the way through his flesh from front to back. A Polgara demon, he explained as he gave her another $500 for the bills, took exception to being trounced at darts.
 
In actuality, of course, Spike’s second ‘No Holds Barred’ demon fight had been that Saturday. He’d had a couple of close calls in that one, too – particularly when the Polgara impaled him with one of its razor sharp bone skewers that jutted unexpectedly out of its arm. Spike learned firsthand what it felt like to be a shish kabob, but ultimately, the Polgara learned a harder lesson – what it felt like to be dead.
 
Out of the $5,239.50 Spike had won on Thanksgiving night, he’d given Buffy $500 and Raj $50, then he’d taken the remainder and bet on himself on Saturday night. As expected, since his first upset victory, the odds on him had come down considerably. Even with the Polgara’s size and natural weaponry advantage, the bookies wouldn’t do better than even money on Spike. He walked out of the club that night with $9,379 in winnings, plus $2,000 from Mr. Andreev. He gave Raj another $50 for placing the bet for him and Buffy another $500 for the bills, which helped explain his injuries, leaving him with just over $10,800.
 
First thing Monday night, before heading to The Fish Bowl, Spike stopped at Mr. Shark’s tank and paid him $10,000, keeping $800 to use for betting on the next bout. He would’ve liked to have kept more, but Spike thought that would show the loan shark that he was serious about paying him back and was good for the rest of the money; Mr. Shark wasn’t entirely impressed.

 

“I like you, Mr. Spike, but if I start letting people I like welsh on their loans, it sets a bad example,” the loan shark explained.
 
“Not welshin’,” Spike asserted. “Got two-thirds of it right there! I’ll have the rest to ya soon, just need a little more time.”
 
Mr. Shark sighed heavily and rubbed a blunt fin against his chin as he thought. “I’m only doing this because you’ve come through for my brother when he needed someone,” the loan shark finally acquiesced. “Another ten thousand by Nochebuena and we’ll call it even…”
 
“Ten!? But I only owe you five!” Spike argued in exasperation.
 
“Today you owe me five … on Nochebuena you owe me ten,” Mr. Shark informed him, using the Spanish term from his minnow days in Mexico for Christmas Eve. “I’m doing you a favor, Mr. Spike – you should be grateful.”
 
Spike rolled his eyes. “Don’t think I can handle many more of your bleedin’ favors…” Spike moaned, but finally accepted the deal. He didn’t really have a lot of options; well, none that involved keeping Buffy out of it.
 
**~**
 
“Whatcha doing, luv?” Spike asked a few hours later as he made his way gingerly down into the bat cave where Buffy had set up the sewing machine, a mug of blood in his hand. His leg still hurt like a motherfucker from that spearing on Saturday night, but, on the plus side, both his arms worked.
 
“Proving that anything you can do, I can do better…” Buffy replied haughtily as she held up two completed Eeyore ears, one on each side of her head.
 
Spike raised his brows and looked at her creations. One was about four inches shorter than the other and wasn’t pointed on the end, and rather lopsided, the point sticking out at an odd angle. The other one hung down properly but had more pink material, which was supposed to be just the inside of the down-trodden donkey’s ear, than grey.
 
“And how long did it take ya to do that, luv?” Spike wondered, taking a sip of his ‘breakfast’.
 
Buffy shrugged. “Well … five hours, off and on – but I had some interruptions,” she explained.

 

“You worked five hours and got two deformed ears done?” Spike questioned, cocking a brow at her.
 
“No … I told you, there were some breaks in there … and they are not deformed! They’re … unique … and … and endearing – they have personality!” she defended, lifting her chin in defiance before sighing heavily and pulling the ears away from her head to look at them. “And they’re totally deformed…” she moaned, dropping them onto the table next to the sewing machine.
 
“God, Spike – what am I gonna do? The seamstress in town is booked until after Christmas and, even if she wasn’t, she wanted $150 plus materials to make it,” Buffy lamented, dropping her head into her hands as she propped her elbows on the table next to the demon sewing machine. “I hate to tell Billy he can’t be in the play – he was so excited about it and he’d make such a sweet Eeyore … don’t you think he’d make a sweet Eeyore?”
 
Spike walked up to her and set his mug down on the table next to her and began massaging the tight muscles in her shoulders and neck. “He’ll make a brilliant Eeyore … if a bit disfigured…”
 
“Spiiike …” Buffy moaned, rolling her face back and forth where it rested in her hands. “Maybe you could…”
 
“Oh no, Slayer! You’re the one that told ‘im he could do it. You’re the one that promised the outfit …” Spike reminded her. “Yours truly is limited to sewin’ on buttons, and only ones I get to rip off.”
 
“You’re a big meanie,” Buffy informed him, moaning in pleasure as he continued massaging her shoulders and neck.
 
“Well – yeah, vampire, remember,” Spike pointed out with a smirk as he kneaded her tight shoulders with strong hands and magical fingers. “There are some things that are strictly mum jobs, and this is one of ‘em.”
 
“That’s very ‘Archie Bunker-esk’ of you …” Buffy told him, turning her face to the side and scowling at him.

 

Spike shrugged. “Right then, I’ll do the outfit and you can give ‘im ‘the talk’ in a few years. Talk to him ‘bout erections and wet dreams and practicing holdin’ back and how to make love to a woman – that’d be a fair trade, yeah?”
 
Buffy looked at him with wide eyes. “You practice holding back?”
 
Spike smirked at her. “It’s an art … and one only I can teach ‘im,” he asserted. “You wouldn’t want to deny him that skill, would ya? Could be right embarrassin’ for the lad one day…”
 
Buffy rolled her eyes. “You’re a meanie,” she repeated, dropping her head again and letting him work more of the stress out of her muscles.
 
“And you love it,” Spike teased, bending down and dropping a kiss on the back of her neck as he ran his hands gently down her sides and settled them on her hips.
 
Buffy shrugged. “A little … sometimes.”
 
**~**
 
(1 week later), Wednesday, December 8th, 2010, 2:00am, Sunnydale:
 
Despite making more money in one night fighting at Mr. Andreev’s club than he did all week at the bar, Spike continued working at The Fish Bowl – they needed all the money they could get. Even with the extra he’d been giving Buffy from the fights, the bills were still piling up and Christmas loomed like a dark cloud over the worried parents. Since the night of the big eBay blow-up, Buffy and Spike did their best to not argue about the money in front of the kids and they tried to pretend that things weren’t still horribly desperate, and but the truth wasn’t really lost on the children, especially Annie.
 
He’d won his third fight on December 4th, betting the $800 he’d kept back from his earlier winnings and ending up walking out with $3,600; $2,000 for the fight and $1,600 from the bet. Spike had given Buffy $600 to put towards the bills and kept the rest to bet the next week in hopes that he could earn enough to pay Mr. Shark off early and get him to come down off the $10,000 that he had quoted Spike. But, as usual, when shit starts sliding downhill, it generally doesn’t stop until it hits the rocks at the bottom and buries you in it. Despite them thinking that things couldn’t possibly get any worse, in fact, they could…
 
When he got home from The Fish Bowl on this night, he didn’t have to dodge the Blue Bomber to pull the DeSoto into the garage – the driveway was empty.
 
He came in and finally found Buffy behind the closed door of her office, sitting on the floor surrounded by past-due bills and credit card statements. She looked up from the chaos on the floor when he opened the door, her eyes red and swollen, her cheeks still stained with tears.

 

“What’s goin’ on? What’s wrong?” Spike asked as he closed the door silently behind him.
 
Buffy took a deep shuddering breath and wiped tiredly at her eyes. “The Bomber died tonight …” she told him, her voice cracking under the strain of one more thing to add to the weight on their shoulders. “I had just picked Annie up from rehearsal and it just died right in the middle of the intersection on Main and Caldera … it wouldn’t budge. I had to push it out of traffic with all the kids in there and …” Buffy dropped her head into her hands and tried to stop the tears from starting again. “ … Xander came and picked us up and got a tow truck. It’s dead Spike … it’s just dead.”
 
“Buffy … luv, why didn’t you call me?” he questioned, stepping over the piles of bills and kneeling down next to her.
 
Buffy shook her head. “You have enough to worry about at the bar … I didn’t want you distracted and maybe getting hurt again and … there wasn’t anything you could do.
 
“Xander had it towed over to Jack’s Garage … Jack said the computer that controls the … something … fizzled and fried … I don’t know – it blew up the motor ‘cos something zigged when it should’ve zagged and … Xander knew what he was talking about,” Buffy tried to explain with a heavy sigh.

 

“It needs a new computer and a whole new engine ‘cos now something’s cracked and there’s no vacuum … I didn’t know engines had vacuums …. What do engines need vacuums for, anyway? Are there little bits of potato chips floating around in there that it has to get up off the carpet? Do engines even have carpet?” Buffy prattled, looking at Spike with sad, exhausted eyes.
 
Spike sat all the way down on the floor and pulled her into a hug, tucking her head under his chin and wrapping strong arms around her. “Not a Hoover, pet … it’s a different kinda vacuum … How much did Jack say it’d be?”
 
“Six thousand for a new engine or three for a rebuilt one, then the computer is another grand … He said he could order one and you could rent a bay there if you and Xander wanted to do the work yourself; that would save about two thousand in labor…” Buffy explained what Jack had told them. “Spike … I never thought I’d say this, but I can’t go without a car – I have to run the kids all over town to their practices and go to Council meetings and PTA and grocery shopping ...
 
“I can’t even rent one – all our cards are over the limit and past due …” she reminded him unnecessarily, waving a hand at all the bills scattered around them on the floor. She’d been searching in vain for one that might not be past due … but she knew it was a lost cause before she started. She only did it because she just didn’t know what else to do.
 
“What are we gonna do?” Buffy whispered to him as she leaned against him and her tears began anew. She knew he was doing all he could, she was bringing in a little money with the stuff she was selling for the Council on eBay, but nothing they did ever seemed to be enough, they just couldn’t catch a break.
 
Spike sighed and stroked a hand softly down the back of her head, over her soft hair and down her back. “No worries, luv, I’ll take care o’ it,” he assured her.
 
“How?” Buffy wondered softly, looking up and meeting his eyes. He seemed so earnest, the blue seemed darker on this night somehow … determined, steadfast.
 
Spike shrugged slightly. “Talk t’ Jack and Harris in the morning ‘bout it, see if I can’t talk him down a bit, maybe Harris can check the junkyard and find one cheaper. I think Jack has a clunker there he’d let us rent. Not the best on the outside, but it’s dependable enough. I can use it; you can use the DeSoto for the bits. We’ll work it out, pet – we always do.”
 
Now Buffy knew things were dire – Spike was going to allow her to drive the DeSoto … In all the years she’d known him, even when he was evil, no one ever drove Vader but Spike.
 
“C’mon, pet … let’s get some kip. Things’ll look better in the mornin’,” Spike cajoled as he stood up and pulled her with him.
 
Buffy snorted softly and shook her head as she stood up with him.
 
“Leave it to me, Buffy … no worries now,” Spike assured her as they headed out into the hall.

 

“Gotta get a shower, pet – smell like Fulox demon,” Spike excused himself outside the bathroom door. Buffy nodded absently and released him then went to check on MacKenzie, who was sleeping peacefully in the nursery, while Spike got his shower.
 
Buffy looked down on their littlest bit and ran a hand gently through her soft red hair. She was so tired of worrying about money with no end in sight. She’d long ago run out of the option of robbing Peter to pay Paul – there was no one left to ‘rob’ any money from – she just did her best to stretch the money as far as she could – she hoped her next grand plan to make a million dollars worked better than her first one. She wasn’t telling Spike about this one yet, though … she didn’t want to jinx it or get his hopes up – or hers, for that matter.
 
**~**
 
Buffy met Spike in the hall when he came out of the bathroom and they went together to their room. While Xander was repairing the house, she’d had him reinforce the sound-proofing in their room on the assumption that Bess would be home one day. He’d installed an intercom system too, so they could hear what was going on in the house without anyone outside being able to hear them unless they wanted to be heard. Now, if Bess would just come home they could really test it out on vampire hearing …
 
Buffy followed Spike into their newly refurbished and repainted room. The scars from the Grox’lar demon were still quite evident as long, red gouges down her husband’s still damp back. She ran her fingers along the slashes gently as she closed the door behind them.
 
“Do they still hurt?” she asked softly.
 
Spike shrugged, still facing away from her. “Still feel ‘em if I move a certain way,” he admitted.
 
Buffy slowly trailed a line of kisses down the widest one, pulling the towel from around his waist and dropping it to the floor in order to cover the entire length of the scar. “Is that better?” she asked quietly as she started back up the scar next to it.
 
Spike closed his eyes and moaned as her warm mouth caressed his back so softly that it felt like the breeze from the wings of an angel taking flight. “You always make everything better,” he answered her finally when she started back down the third scar with the same soft kisses.
 
Buffy moved slowly, tasting his soft, cool skin, kissing the dew drops from his back and wishing more than anything that she could actually make everything better … not just for a while, but forever. The hours after Spike got home and before dawn were magical; hidden away in their own private world, they could pretend for just a little while that everything was alright. That there were no bills or mortgages or blown engines; that there were no prophecies or Armageddons awaiting them, that Christmas wasn’t fast approaching and Santa had died and Bess still hadn’t come home. They could join, tangle, dance; skin on skin, touching, caressing, burning each other; heart on heart, they could lose themselves in each other’s love until the sunrise brought the world back into focus.
 
Buffy moved her mouth to his shoulder where the Grox’lar had ripped his flesh. There were still indentations in his muscles that hadn’t completely healed yet, even though the skin had closed, the muscle that had been torn away hadn’t been completely restored yet.
 
“Does this still hurt?” she asked softly as she rained more kisses along the angry red scar that still remained and trailed her tongue up and down the hills and valleys the beast’s teeth had left behind.

 

“A bit,” Spike admitted as he kept his eyes closed and just let his body feel the magic of her touch on his skin. Her soft lips feathered over his injuries like a healing balm, not so much healing his physical body, but something much deeper. She always made sure she was awake when he got home … she always made sure they had their own time, just the two of them. Some nights, those hours were spent just holding each other, talking softly about nearly forgotten dreams for the future, for their children, for themselves. Other nights they lifted each other to heaven, giving everything to the other and wishing it would be enough to transcend the darkness into the day – but reality was always revealed in the morning light, no matter how hard they tried to escape it.
 
The nights Spike regretted most were Saturday nights, when he came home bruised and battered and bleeding, sometimes barely able to stand or walk. As she tended his wounds he dropped money on the table and lied to her … oh God, he hated that. He’d vowed long ago to never lie to her again, swore he wouldn’t … but if she knew, she would stop him and he couldn’t allow that. He was determined to do what he’d promised, provide her with not only love, but security and peace of mind, as well. He was determined to win that tournament – he was determined to be the husband and father his family deserved.
 
Buffy continued her ministrations, tickling butterfly kisses on his skin as she moved over his arm and around to his chest where the Grox’lar’s bite had punctured and torn his pectoral muscles. Spike lifted his other hand and ran it softly down her back as she worked her miraculous healing magic on him.
 
Buffy dropped down to his newest wound, from just this past Saturday night, a large dark purple-black bruise on his side between his ribcage and hip bone where his opponent had caught him with a large pincer and tried, unsuccessfully, to cut Spike in half at the waist.
 
“Does this still hurt?” she repeated the same question again.
 
Spike winced when she touched it with her lips, sucking his abs in reflexively. “A bit…” he groaned out between clenched teeth.
 
“Sorry …” Buffy murmured against his skin, skirting the worst of the bruise and Spike let out the breath he’d been holding as her kisses tickled the soft skin above and below the tenderest spot.
 
Buffy dropped down further to the small scar on his thigh where the Polgara demon had tried to turn him into a shish kabob and kissed a circle around it before touching her lips down lightly on the scar itself.
 
“Does this still hurt?” she asked again as she feathered her soft lips over his upper thigh.
 
“No…” he assured her. It was funny, it had still hurt when he was in the shower a few minutes ago, but somehow, her healing touch had suddenly made it feel much better.
 
Buffy slowly stood back up, leaving a trail of damp heat along his skin as she did so as her tongue traced a meandering path up his body.
 
“Anyplace else hurt?” she asked when she was standing in front of him.

 

Spike opened his eyes slowly and looked into hers. It seemed like he could drown in their green depths so easily … he almost felt like if he just believed enough and dove head first that he’d find himself completely immersed in their bottomless warmth and passion.
 
Spike touched a finger to his lips and Buffy smiled softly as she lifted up onto her toes and brushed her honeyed lips against his. “Better?” she breathed against his skin.
 
Spike shook his head slightly and Buffy pressed her velvet lips against his again, trailing her tongue softly along his full bottom lip before snaking it into his mouth to find his. Spike’s mellifluous moan and his arms wrapping around her body told her that her healing power must’ve found its mark. Their tongues danced that ageless waltz, turning and swirling round and round the other as their hands roamed the other’s skin, tingling them both with desire.
 
When the kiss broke, Buffy stepped back, pulling out of Spike’s embrace. She pulled her t-shirt up over her head to reveal her golden skin and full breasts to her husband. Spike’s eyes caressed her body with adoration – it didn’t seem to matter how often he saw it, it always felt just like that very first time; it always had the same effect on him.

He remembered what Amanda had found about the spell the monks used to create Annie – she said they borrowed part of the life force from Buffy to make him alive at just the right moment. Spike thought that was the perfect way to put it, because when he was with her like this, he felt like she was enfolding him in her life force … pouring it over him like warm, sticky, golden honey and making him feel more alive than he ever had as a human. He sometimes thought that he could actually feel his heart racing in his chest just being near her; the magic that was Buffy always made him feel alive.
 
Buffy slid her shorts down her legs and stepped out of them as Spike’s eyes came back to hers. The power of that silent connection between them never ceased to amaze her. It was more than words, more even than the bond … she thought that it must be their souls seeking out their other halves. It held them both transfixed for some time, neither moving or breathing or wanting to do anything to break that unfathomable link … the link which joined their life forces.
 
Keeping her eyes locked with his, Buffy backed up until her knees hit the bed and she sat down, then slowly crawled back on the soft mattress and silently invited Spike to join her.
 
Spike stepped towards her, letting her eyes pull him forward. Spike crawled over her on hands and knees like a graceful panther until their bodies were close enough that Spike could feel the heat from hers rising up and engulfing his. He leaned down and captured her lips in a slow, sensuous kiss, holding his body up above hers with strong arms. Buffy wrapped her arms around his neck as she savored the tender sweetness of his kiss. There were times that she needed fast and frantic, and times that she needed fun and teasing, and times she needed gentle and lingering; there were times she needed the demon, and times she needed the man, times she needed the poet and times she needed the warrior. She didn’t know how he knew what she needed when, maybe it was the words she used or the way she moved, or the way she moaned or maybe it was that connection, but somehow he always seemed to know.
 


Spike dropped down to his elbows and rested his hard body gently against her suppleness as he began to sprinkle soft kisses over her face, on her eyelids, the tip of her nose … then down her jaw to her neck. His movements were unhurried, deliberate, as if this night would last forever.
 
“I love you, Buffy… love you so bloody much…” he murmured against the skin of her neck, his deep voice vibrating against her heated flesh.
 
Buffy placed her hands on each side of his face and lifted his head back up so she could see those words reflected in his eyes … the eyes that he contended ‘didn’t talk’. “I love you too, Spike,” she replied huskily as she watched her words sparkle in those deep chasms of blue which had a language all their own.
 
Buffy lifted her legs and wrapped them lightly around his hips, inviting him into her. Spike lifted up and pulled back slightly and Buffy guided his cool hardness into her soft heat. That moment of entry … as her body gave and stretched to accept him inside her, never failed to send pure bliss tickling over her, raising chill bumps on her hot skin. Whether a fast and frantic plunge or a sumptuously slow seduction, the act of her damp, supple flesh enveloping him was a feeling she’d yearn for until her dying day.
 
“God, Buffy…” Spike moaned as he sank ever so slowly into her. His cock glided gently into her wet, velvet glove as her womanhood welcomed him, pulling him deep into her core.
 
When Spike’s hips met hers, Buffy pulled his chest back down against her body. “Hold me …” she murmured against his ear as she wrapped her arms tightly around his back.
 
Spike laced his arms under her, around her shoulders and relaxed his body against hers. “Forever…” he promised as he rested his head down on the pillow next to hers, closed his eyes and let his other senses take control. The fragrance that was nothing but Buffy filled him with joy as he breathed her in, her warm body beneath him, her passion surrounding him, it seemed to make all the worries of the world fade away – he would gladly stay here holding her forever if he could.
 
Buffy held him to her tightly as if he was her anchor in a tumultuous, stormy sea. He covered her with security and filled her with hope, and the broken car and the bill collectors and the impending disaster some people called ‘Christmas’ blew away like the ocean’s foam on a windswept beach. There was nothing but this moment. These few hours between the end of one day and the sunrise that signaled the start of another was their time, and there was nothing but them in these moments.

 

Buffy grazed her hands lightly over the hard muscles of Spike’s back, over the hills and valleys of flesh and bone. He fit her so perfectly and she him – it was like they were made for each other – not just on the inside, but on the outside, too. Like two pieces of a puzzle that had been lost, leaving the picture unfinished, then were miraculously found after many years apart – they completed each other and together created a beautiful picture which included their family and friends. Without those two pieces, the whole puzzle’s potential would’ve remained unfulfilled, would have never seen the light of day, but rather languished in some dark corner for all eternity.
 
Spike lifted up and met her eyes before dropping a soft kiss on her tender lips as he began moving his hips against her slowly. Buffy moaned into his mouth, not wanting to ever move from the comfort of his embrace but at the same time wanting more. His body moving against hers felt so good, so right; the gentle thrusts and retreats of his hips were like soft waves washing over her, mesmerizing and building higher with each measured stroke. As he paused to grind his pubic bone in unhurried circles against her clit with each downward push, the waves began to rise higher within her and she clung even tighter to her anchor.
 
Spike rose up to straight arms and bent his head down to suck one hot, hard nipple between his cool lips, flicking the tip of his tongue against her dusty-pink skin and bringing another wanton moan from Buffy’s throat as her back arched against him.
 
“Oh, God, Spike … yes, baby … so good,” Buffy murmured as he increased the tempo of his thrusts and she matched him, raising her hips up to meet him with every blazing stroke.
 
“So beautiful you are, pet …” Spike whispered back to her. Her face and body flushed with the heat of her desire was one of Spike’s favorite sights … right up there with that indignant pout she had when things didn’t go her way or uncontrollable laughter over the silliest things or the adoration in her eyes when she held their children … I guess you could say he loved all of Buffy’s looks, all except tears; the tears cut straight to his heart and brought him to his knees.
 
The lover’s dance lifted them slowly higher, like a small bird just learning to fly, they rose and retreated, then rose again – higher this time, before gliding down and rising back up yet again; each ascent took them higher, closer to heaven.  It was what they both needed … time in each other’s arms. There was no frenzied, possessed madness that sometimes overtook them, just a feeling of serenity being with the one they loved, giving the other pleasure and accepting the gift the other offered.
 
Buffy felt like they were floating in a sea of tranquility and the blissful waves were washing over their bodies, tickling their skin like champagne bubbles as they rode the undulating surf ever higher. As the current surged and swelled within her, she opened her eyes and was immediately surrounded by the blue flame of Spike’s soul, which bore into her and set the sea afire with pure devotion. She suddenly felt a profound peace curl over and around her as her orgasm washed gently over her like a sea wave that had traveled many long miles before reaching the beach.

 

It wasn’t one of the earth moving, scream-inducing orgasms, but more of a soft caress which left her feeling serene and placid – like she was floating on a cloud. It was exactly what she needed this night – the poet, not the warrior; the gentle man, not the wanton demon.
 
As Buffy’s eyes met his, her body tensed and her womanhood constricted around Spike’s cock, pulling him deeper and deeper until he thought he would surely be drowned in her. Spike took the joy that she offered and allowed himself to let go. His cum surged up, pulsating his hard rod within her sugar walls and spilled into her, lifting the poet up to that halcyonic cloud with her.   
 
Everything suddenly went completely still – no a breeze billowed, no birds sang, not even the rays of the sun reached through the hazy nebula that surrounded and buoyed them. All there was were two souls at peace; two hearts giving all they had to the other; two life forces joining into one, floating high above the world that seemed to want nothing more than to tear them apart at every turn.
 
Buffy pulled Spike’s body back down against hers and clung to him tightly as her heart raced and thudded against his chest which brought a smile to his lips as he wrapped his arms around and under her. There it was – that feeling of being alive – she was pouring it over him again.
 
Spike lifted his head to look at her face. The tears had dried, the stress and worry that had creased her features before had softened; she’d wanted the poet to help her find that tranquility … he wanted the woman to remind him what it was to be a man. They both gladly gave what the other needed.
 
“They say you only truly fall in love once, but that’s bollocks,” the poet whispered to her. “Every time I look at you, I fall in love all over again.”

 

Buffy smiled softly as she drank in the love that shone down on her, touching his cheek gently as she relished the feel of his body against hers and the serenity that they’d brought each other this night.
 
“That is so cheesy…” Buffy teased lightly, her smile widening.
 
Spike shrugged and returned her smile. “Thought you liked cheese.”
 
“Nope. I love it.”
 
**~**
 
(The following week) Friday, December 17th, 2010, 7:00pm, Sunnydale, Wilkins Elementary School:
 
As he’d promised, Spike had ‘worked something out’ with Jack and the Blue Bomber was being fitted with a rebuilt engine and a new computer brain. The day after it broke down, Spike took his $3,000 that he was going to use to bet with and paid $1,000 of it to Jack so the mechanic could get started. That left Spike with $2,000 to bet. After winning his fight last Saturday and ending up with a total of $6,000 (the $2,000 he bet won him another $2,000 and Mr. Andreev paid him $2,000 for the fight), he paid Jack the remainder for the engine and computer and the labor – another $3,000, which left Spike with $3,000 to bet tomorrow night. Needless to say, he wasn’t able to go to Mr. Shark and try to talk him down off the $10,000 the loan shark wanted by Christmas, but if Spike could just keep winning fights, he was confident that he’d be able to clear that obligation easily. He’d been summarily vague with Buffy about what he’d ‘worked out’ with Jack … she was so elated that he’d been able to handle it, that she didn’t press him for details of his deal.
 
The minivan wasn’t repaired yet, though, so the whole family packed into the DeSoto for the short ride to Billy and Dani’s elementary school this night. The cafeteria/auditorium was packed with family and friends for the politically-correct, non-holiday, Winnie the Pooh play. Children ran and laughed in the aisles as their parents found seats and readied their cameras to capture the historic event.
 
Billy had been giddy with excitement when Buffy took him backstage earlier to get ready with the other performers. She had finally, after many excruciating hours of torturous and concentrated battling, and more than one trip back to the fabric store, defeated the demon sewing machine and produced a costume for her son that he could wear proudly without fear of ridicule. The ears were both the same length, the legs and arms weren’t too long or too short, the tail didn’t drag the ground and swayed just right when he walked and was attached with Velcro so he could ‘lose it’ and have it reattached, and even the bit of dark mane between the ears was centered just right.

 

Billy had everyone in the mansion helping him rehearse his lines over the last two weeks until they all knew all the lines for the whole play – which, granted was only about thirty minutes worth in total, but still. It’s a good thing it wasn’t a murder/mystery or all the suspense would’ve been completely lost on his audience. Now Buffy just hoped that the other kids were as well prepared as her son was and that he didn’t get stage fright and totally freeze up when the curtain rose. Buffy had been in a play in elementary school too … she couldn’t actually remember any of it because she’d totally blocked the traumatic experience from her brain, but her Mom said that she came out onto the stage and froze. The other kids just kept going without her, skipping her lines and making the whole show completely incomprehensible … which is a pretty good feat for an elementary school production of  Billy Goat Gruff. Buffy still had a picture of herself in that hideous goat costume … hidden somewhere she hoped no one would ever find.
 
When Buffy came back from dropping Billy off, she found the gang seated in the third row back from the stage – Spike was holding MacKenzie and saving a seat for Buffy next to him. Billy’s cheering section took up nearly the whole row with Xander, Anya, and JJ along with Giles, Lorne, Faith, Spike, Buffy, and the other Weckerly kids. Wes had regretfully declined the tantalizing invitation, citing a very vague prior engagement elsewhere.
 
Buffy sat down next to Spike and offered to take the baby, but she was sleeping, and it’s best to leave sleeping babies lie, so he just kept her.
 
“How was he?” Spike asked her when she’d settled in her seat.
 
“He seemed fine … excited but lucid,” she assured her husband, holding up both hands with crossed fingers.

 

A few minutes after the scheduled start time of 7:30pm, the lights in the ‘theatre’ went down and all the patrons quieted. One of the teachers organizing the play came out to set the scene for them and then the play was taken over by the kids with the teacher on the floor near the stage to help with forgotten lines and missed cues.
 
Buffy held her breath when the curtain rose as she waited for Billy’s scene …
 
“There now,” said Christopher Robin as he re-attached the donkey’s tail. “Did I get your tail back on properly, Eeyore?”
 
“No matter,” Eeyore sighed, his head drooping as he looked back at his tail. “Most likely lose it again, anyway.”
 
“Well, it’s a very nice tail,” Christopher continued.
 
“Thanks. It's not really much of a tail, but I'm sort of attached to it,” Eeyore lamented, wiggling his bottom and swishing said tail towards the audience which drew giggles from the crowd.
 
Then everything went silent … Buffy bit her lip as everyone waited for Pooh Bear to make his big entrance … and they waited and waited…
 
As the audience began a low murmur, Eeyore motioned to someone off the stage for them to come out … then Christopher Robin did too and even the teacher who was standing near the stage joined in – but still no one came out.
 
Eeyore sighed heavily and ad-libbed, “I better go find Pooh … he’s probably stuck in the honey tree again.”
 
Billy, as Eeyore, ran off to stage left and grabbed Pooh’s hand and coaxed the frightened girl playing Pooh out onto the stage.
 
Buffy’s eyes met Spike’s, her hands covering her mouth in worry. She knew just how that girl felt …like she wished a hole would open up in the floor so she could disappear.
 
Billy leaned in and whispered in her ear and the frightened girl finally stuttered out her line, “Good morning, Christopher Robin.”
 
“Oh, good morning, Pooh Bear,” Christopher replied and Owl joined in, wishing Pooh a good morning, as well.
 
Buffy bit her lip harder, hoping Billy wouldn’t forget his own line now that he’d saved Pooh … but she needn’t have worried …
 
“If it is a good morning, which I doubt,” Eeyore moaned heavily, moving back to his proper place nearer Christopher Robin.
 
Soon Piglet and Roo and Tigger joined the group on stage and, despite a few more forgotten lines and awkward silences, the play went on without any more really big problems. Even Pooh had finally settled down and ended the show with an emphatic, “Oh bother!”
 
The assembled onlookers clapped and cheered for the players as if they’d just delivered a Tony Award winning performance of Macbeth and the kids took their bows on center stage with giddy grins plastered on their faces. Some, like from the girl playing Pooh, wore grins of relief that it was over; for others, like Billy, they were grins of elation.
 
The ‘after party’ back at the mansion included cake and ice cream (sorbet for Dani) and everyone congratulated Billy on his performance, which just made his grin widen. When everyone had been served and had scattered a bit while eating their treats, Buffy saw Billy over at the research table by himself, checking on Bess.
 
“Too bad she wasn’t here to see your debut,” Buffy offered as she walked up behind him. After leaving Philadelphia, Buffy had been hopeful that Bess would come back to Sunnydale, but, instead she’d gone back to Cleveland and had been there almost three weeks now.
 
“I told her about it … she said she was sorry that she wouldn’t be able to come,” Billy told his mother. Since that dream on Thanksgiving night, anytime Billy found himself in a dream with Bess, she’d welcomed him and talked to him, but she never said if she was going to come back or not. He hadn’t given up hope, though – just the fact that she was talking to him again made him think that she would come back – one day.
 
“Well, hopefully she can be here for the next one …” Buffy sighed, ruffling Billy’s curls. “You did really well, helping Pooh out was … well, it was very nice of you.”
 
Billy shrugged. “She was just scared ‘cos of all the people.”
 
“But you weren’t,” Buffy observed.
 
“Naaa … I thought it was fun. You can be anybody you want in a play! Next time I think I want to be a human, though… that costume was kinda hot,” Billy admitted.
 
Buffy laughed lightly. Two weeks of blood, sweat, and tears for the costume to be used once … and be hot.

 

“Well, you made an excellent Eeyore. We’re really proud of you,” Buffy told her son. “You never know, you might be the next Robert Redford.”
 
“Who’s Robert Redford?”
 
“Just this old actor guy …” Buffy explained with an eye roll, feeling more like her own mother every day, making references her children didn’t get.
 
**~**
 
(The next day) Saturday, December 18th, 2010, 10:00am, Sunnydale:
 
Buffy made it upstairs from the basement just as the answering machine was picking up the phone. Spike’s voice came on the speaker,
 
“You’ve reached the Weckerly’s.
If we owe you money, the check’s been posted,
If you’re selling something, you’re wastin’ your time, all our money’s in the post,
If you owe us money, leave your number and we’ll call ya back right quick …”
 
Buffy picked up the phone before the beep, “Hello?”

 

“Buffy! It’s Tara,” came the excited response on the other end of the line.
 
“Hey! Did you get them? What do you think?” Buffy asked just as excitedly, setting down the basket of laundry she’d been carrying.
 
“They are sooo cool! We love them! Can you make more? I can send you some fabric that I know will look great and go with a bunch of my outfits!” Tara replied eagerly.
 
“Sure! Just send it and I can have more in no time!” Buffy agreed, thrilled that Tara and Willow had liked the presents she sent. The two weeks battling the demon Singer hadn’t all been spent on Billy’s costume.
 
“What did you say they were called again?” Tara asked.
 
“Scrunchies…”




**~** 

{{Click here to hear “Tangled Up In You” by Staind on YouTube  }}

You're my world
The shelter from the rain
You're the pills
That take away my pain
You're the light
That helps me find my way
You're the words
When I have nothing to say

And in this world
Where nothing else is true
Here I am
Still tangled up in you
I'm still tangled up in you
Still tangled up in you

You're the fire
That warms me when I'm cold
You're the hand
I have to hold as I grow old
You're the shore
When I am lost at sea
You're the only thing
That I like about me

And in this world
Where nothing else is true
Here I am
Still tangled up in you
I'm still tangled up in you

How long has it been
Since this storyline began
And I hope it never ends
And goes like this forever

In this world
Where nothing else is true
Here I am
Still tangled up in you
Tangled up in you
I'm still tangled up in you
Still tangled up in you

End Notes:
First of all, I want to send a gigantic {{THANK YOU}} to everyone who voted in the SunnyD awards!! I am overwhelmed, totally blown away, by the number of awards this Universe won!! I was giddy with excitement all weekend - which made it hard for my muse to write angst ... but somehow he managed, so don't worry, there will be more tears soon!

I promise that we will check back in with Bess and find out why she's staying in Cleveland rather than coming home, also. Lots more on the way ...

{hugs} -p4s (and her giddy, yet evil, blue-eyed muse!)

If We Make It Through December by Passion4Spike
Author's Notes:
Spike's done the math and has a plan to make the kid's Christmas wishes come true … will he succeed?
**
Quick note: I should've reminded everyone before, there are no Scrunchies in Buffy's world - whatever Hallie did with her wish somehow changed history and prevented them from being invented. Despite Buffy thwarting the wish by breaking William's heart and sending him into Dru's clutches, she did not actually *reverse* the wish, thus there are still no Scrunchies in this world ... yet.
**
Music Referenced:
If We Make It Through December, Merle Haggard, http://youtu.be/beazFnCT5KA
 **
ScreenCaps courtesy of ScreenCap Paradise: http://www.screencap-paradise.com/?cat=3
**
Thanks to 'epd4' for betaing this chapter. Any mistakes are mine because I can't stop fiddling ...
(After talking with Tara about Scrunchies) Saturday, December 18th, 2010, 10:00am, Sunnydale:
 
After Buffy got off the phone with Tara, she went to her office and began to dig for the phone number of an old friend … she hoped he would remember her; it had been a long time since she’d talked to him – at least as far as she remembered.
 
After four rings, a female voice with an English accent came on the line. “Hello?”
 
“Hi,” Buffy replied. “Is Lindsey available?”
 
“No, I’m afraid not,” the coven witch hedged.
 
“Oh … could I leave a message?” Buffy wondered. “This is Buffy … Buffy Summers-Weckerly.”
 
“Oh… Buffy – I’m sorry, he isn’t with us any longer,” the witch informed her.
 
“He’s not … with us?” Buffy asked with a bit of alarm. “You mean he’s …”

 

“In Nepal…” the witch finished when Buffy hesitated.
 
Buffy took a deep breath and blew it out slowly. “Oh, wow – you scared me for a minute.”
 
So that was one thing that must’ve stayed the same as the pre-wish world. When everyone got back from ‘helping’ Angel take down the Black Thorn and fight the armies of hell in the other dimension, Buffy called Lindsey to tell him about what the Lindsey in that dimension had done to hide himself from Wolfram & Hart. Apparently, ‘their’ Lindsey had decided to take on the challenges in Nepal to gain the magical cloak so he could safely leave the coven.
 
“He does call from time to time – I can give him a message, but I don’t know when he’ll call. Is there anything I can help you with?” the witch offered.
 
“Ummm … no, not really. I wanted to see if he could help me with some legal advice on how to get a patent, but he’s probably a little busy just now …” Buffy offered. “But tell him I called anyway and I hope he’s doing okay.”
 
“Alright, I’ll give him the message when he calls next time,” the witch promised.
 
Buffy sighed when she hung up the phone. Willow and Tara liking the Scrunchies made it unanimous among her friends and family – Annie, Dani, Anya, Faith, and Amanda had all liked them too. Granted, that was a pretty small focus group, but she still thought the world at large would like the fancy ponytail holders; after all, they had before Hallie’s wish changed history and somehow removed them from the world. Now she just needed to figure out how to patent them and market them and produce them in mass … and make that million dollars she’d once promised Spike she would make for them. She just wished she could do it before Christmas.
 
**~**
 
(Later that day) Saturday, December 18th, 2010, 5:00pm, Sunnydale:
 
Spike woke from a long, restful sleep feeling better than he had all week, which was a good thing since he had another fight in a few hours. The rosters were never announced ahead of time, there was no chance to do any research about the demon you were fighting; if you didn’t know how to defeat him going in, you had better figure it out quickly. All the years spent on the Hellmouth with Buffy and the Scoobies had given Spike a pretty broad knowledge of the demon population, but there always seemed to be more where they came from, and the chance at $500,000 drew the biggest, meanest, nastiest demons from around the world to their town. He only had to win three more fights to get that prize … it would be three of the hardest battles he’d ever faced, he had no doubt about that.
 
Spike found Buffy in the baby’s room sitting in the rocking chair holding MacKenzie with one arm and some papers in her other. She looked up from the papers with misty eyes when he stepped in. He gave her a questioning look, What the bloody hell now? and she motioned for him to close the door.

 

“What’s wrong?” Spike asked her when the door was closed. He was getting so very tired of asking that.
 
Buffy gave him a sad smile and handed him the papers she’d been reading. It was a letter to Santa, from Billy and Dani, but was clearly Annie’s handwriting; apparently she got voted the stenographer for the group, despite the fact that their eldest daughter had long ago guessed that Santa was actually her parents, and, according to the letter, had tried to dissuade Dani and Billy from even writing it:

 ~*~


 Dear Santa,

Everyone in our family has been very good this year, mostly. Dani did hit JJ a few times, but he hit her back, so we think it’s ok. MacKenzie hasn’t been here long enough to get into trouble, even though she spits up all over Mama’s shirts, Papa says she doesn’t mean anything by it. We don’t know what she wants so you can choose for her.

Annie says we shouldn’t write to you this year, but Dani and Billy think that maybe you can fix stuff and make sure everyone gets what they want for Christmas. They hope it will all fit in your sleigh.

Please bring Mama and Papa a trillion dollars so we can get off welfare and stop eating chicken fried rice. Then Papa can quit work and go to Dani’s soccer games and Annie’s dance recitals and Billy’s tumbling shows and Mama can stop juggling bills because she says she’s tired of doing that.

Please bring Papa a Gem of Amarra … for most of the same reasons as requested above and so Mama can stop telling him to ‘be careful’ and worrying all the time.

Please bring Mama the strength she keeps praying for when she doesn’t think we can hear her and a new blue car with air conditioning and an iPod dock and DVD player and power windows and room for all our stuff plus JJ. This will also be for Papa so he won’t have to go out and check Vader every time Mama goes anywhere in it.

Please bring Dani the Rollerblades she wants, the red ones that go really fast, and new soccer cleats, and a David Beckham poster to go in her room, and a Wii Sports video game which she’ll share with everyone but has first dibs on.

Please bring Billy a Kindle Fire (or a Touch if you don’t have enough Fires) and a Guitar Hero game. Billy wouldn’t say ‘no’ to a new Stormtrooper uniform either.

Finally, please bring Bess home.

If everything won’t fit in your sleigh, you can keep the socks, shoes, underwear, and new jackets until next year or give them to someone else who would like them. We really have enough of those. It’s ok if some of it is a little late because you need to make two trips, we don’t mind.

Please be careful when you land ‘cos we have a new roof. If you break it, Mama will be very mad and Papa will probably have to beat you up because she will have a ‘bloody conniption fit’. We aren’t sure what that is, but Papa says we don’t want to know. You might want to just land in the driveway and come in the garden doors like everyone else does.

Thank you for remembering us.

 Dani, Billy, MacKenzie, and Annie Weckerly

The big house with the new roof on Crawford Street
Sunnydale, CA USA

 
At the bottom of the letter, in Billy’s scrawl, was an addendum:

PS: Please bring Annie the new laptop computer she wants or an iPad. This is so she can do her homework on her own computer and not have to use Mama’s or the one at the Magic Box, not because she wants new games to play that won’t work on those old computers or because she’s tired of waiting forever for YouTube videos to play. She would also really like the Wii Dance on Broadway game. Annie’s been good all year and only got one ‘B’ on her report card, but that was in math, so I don’t think it counts.
 
~*~
 
Attached to the letter was a page full of pictures of the items they wanted taped to a piece of red construction paper, including a picture of a bag of money, a shiny green emerald (to represent the Gem of Amarra), and a ‘Celestial Blue’ Cadillac Escalade.



Spike swallowed back the lump in his throat and tried to make a joke. “Well, at least they picked out a nice ride for ya … blue too. We’d need that trillion dollars to fill up the bloody tank, I’d reckon.”
 
Buffy smiled and nodded, but when her eyes met his she could see the pain and heartbreak in their blue depths. When had life gone from snagging the last ‘Tickle Me Elmo’ to iPads and Wiis and Guitar Heroes? When had Christmas turned into a nightmare? When had December gotten so depressing?

 

“Well, at least they didn’t ask for anything unrealistic like a pony,” Buffy agreed. “What’s a trillion dollars to Santa? He must print it up by the sleigh loads and he probably has lots of little Chinese elves building computers and iPads for him now…
 
“And what’s wrong with my chicken fried rice? I thought they liked it …” Buffy moaned as she stood up and laid the sleeping MacKenzie down gently in her crib.
 
Spike shook his head as he looked back down at the letter. “Dunno … probably’d rather have Worms in Mud for dinner …”
 
“Yeah, that’s gonna happen in my lifetime,” Buffy bantered lightly as they both tried to shrug off the feeling of inadequacy and hopelessness this holiday was heaping on them.
 
Buffy walked up to Spike and leaned her forehead against his shoulder in despair. “Do you think IOUs would work? I mean, we could wrap them up in great big boxes the size of refrigerators and fill the boxes with green and red Styrofoam peanuts and confetti and they could shift through them to find the prize … like a supersized box of Cracker Jacks.”
 
“I reckon that would be just as thrilling as the prizes they put in Cracker Jack boxes…” Spike agreed dryly.
 
Spike wrapped his arms around her and pulled her into a hug. His heart ached for her and for them and that feeling of not being the man they deserved tightened his chest yet again. That feeling was only intensified by the fact that they’d asked for things for him and Buffy as well, like the Gem and a new car and a trillion dollars so he could come to their activities. What they were really asking for was the same thing he wanted: a happy, stable home with a mother and father that could both be involved in their lives and passions. He knew they could all certainly live without any of those things they’d asked for, but he also knew that if the Grinch stole Christmas from them, particularly Dani and Billy, it would be a heart break they’d remember their whole lives.

 

Spike folded the letter up and tucked it into his back pocket then dropped a soft kiss on the top of Buffy’s head. “I haveta go, pet…” he sighed grudgingly.
 
Buffy nodded slowly and pulled back, giving him a sad smile. “Please be careful … the demons seem to be extra twitchy on Saturdays.”
 
“No worries, pet. It’s my…”
 
“…middle name,” Buffy finished. “Let’s make it your first name tonight, ok?”
 
Spike snorted a sad laugh and nodded, touching her cheek gently with his palm. “No worries…” he repeated before pressing a kiss to her lips, then dropping another soft kiss on their little Testarossa’s forehead and heading out to ‘work’.
 
**~**
 
(Later that night) Sunday, December 19th, 2010, 12:00am, Sunnydale:
 
Spike thought that his sternum had most certainly collapsed all the way down and hit his spine as his body pancaked unto itself after being body-slammed down onto the unforgiving granite of the pit. A kaleidoscope of brightly colored stars exploded in soft cascades of color before his eyes as his head cracked against the hard floor of the ‘ring’. If his skull being split against the stone hadn’t sent a dizzying mixture of agony and anxiety shooting through his mind and body, the display would’ve actually been quite beautiful … almost serene and peaceful – as it was, it only served to give his opponent an even greater advantage than he already had.  

 

The Fyarl demon that now stood over his prone body, gloating with loud grunts and growls, which were completely unintelligible to the yuppie onlookers, was the largest and strongest and perhaps even the meanest Fyarl Spike had ever encountered – and he’d known a good many in his long life. Through the fog in his brain, Spike could hear the crowd yelling, screaming – admonishing him passionately to ‘get the fuck up!’ Over the last weeks, the undersized blond vamp, the once unknown underdog, had become a fan favorite, and Mr. Andreev began scheduling Spike’s fights later and later to keep the patrons in the club spending money, buying drinks, and making bets as long as possible.
 
Spike shook his head to try and clear it as the Fyarl stood over him. The large demon’s arms were being alternatively raised in victory and pounded against his chest like King Kong as he roared and growled his declarations of triumph to the angry crowd. Spike had him just where he wanted him …

 

Spike slowly and painfully pushed up to sitting. The larger demon didn’t seem to even notice Spike move as he straddled the downed vamp and continued to taunt the crowd with his success over their golden boy. For all their size and power, Fyarls weren’t the brightest bulbs in the box and they were exceptionally susceptible to silver. Although no weapons were allowed to be brought into the pit, no one had ever said anything about Spike’s rings …
 
Spike blinked and willed his eyes to focus, then took his shot – he bit down on the Fyarl’s upper thigh with his fangs and shook his head violently, drawing a painful cry from the larger demon as his flesh tore and thick, green blood spewed from the gaping wound. The demon swung an iron fist down at Spike’s head, but Spike released his bite just in the nick of time and ducked the blow as he raised his right hand and slammed his fist deep into the maw on the Fyarl’s leg.
 
His opponent screamed again in renewed agony and fell to his knees atop Spike. The vamp’s hand, which was embedded in the Fyarl’s leg, bent at an acute, unnatural, backwards angle at the wrist as the larger demon fell. Spike heard and felt all the tendons in his wrist pop grotesquely and his roar of pain joined the larger demon’s as he struggled to keep his right hand, and the silver skull ring that it sported, inside the wound and in contact with the Fyarl’s blood for as long as possible.
 
The Fyarl’s large fist crashed against the side of Spike’s head and those stars began to explode again but only momentarily … just before everything went black.
 
“Whatcha doin’, luv?” Spike asked Buffy as he walked out into the bright mid-summer sun to join her near her Sherman-tank sized SUV.
 
“Just getting the cheese,” she replied as she stacked huge wheels of cheese in the back of a large, Celestial Blue Cadillac Escalade which actually looked celestial, with stars and moons and suns dancing and glinting brightly over its exterior.


 
“Don’t I get any?” Spike wondered, reaching a hand out towards some Pepper Jack cheese.
 
Buffy slapped his hand away. “No – you’re cheesy enough,” she informed him curtly.
 
“I thought you liked cheese…” Spike pointed out.
 
“I wear the cheese. The cheese does not wear me,” she snapped, giving him a stern look.
 
Spike pulled back a bit and looked at her like she’d lost her mind. “What the bloody hell are you on about?”
 
“These will not protect you,” Buffy offered earnestly, holding up two slices of American cheese.
 
“Right then …” Spike agreed, looking at her with confusion. “I’ll try t’ remember that.”
 
“You really should wake up – there’s no space for the cheese with this fog in here…we really need more space for the cheese,” Buffy told him with a firm nod of her head.

 
Spike sat up coughing as he tried to expel the acrid aroma of the smelling salts from his nostrils and remember where he was and figure out why he suddenly had a craving for some deep fried mozzarella and marinara sauce.

 

He looked up and saw Raj standing over him with the smelling salts and Spike collapsed back down onto the granite at his back and closed his eyes. He’d been unconscious … he’d lost. All the cutouts of the Christmas gifts the kids had asked Santa for in their letter mocked him by replacing the stars behind his lids and exploding into dust one by one … the iPad, the Wii games, the Rollerblades, the Kindle … each one appeared then painfully burst into a million tiny bits … just like he knew the kid’s hearts would do on Christmas morning when there was nothing from their letter under the tree from Santa.
 
Spike had done the math on his way to the arena earlier. If he could win this bout, he’d have enough money to buy most of those things for the kids and still pay off Mr. Shark after the fight scheduled for Christmas night … but of course, that was all predicated on the assumption that he would win both bouts … and he’d lost.

 

“Kiwi Spike!” Raj called when Spike dropped back down onto the floor. “You go now! Get money! Fifty dollar Raj!”
 
Spike blew out a defeated breath as Raj pulled his left hand to try and get him up. When Raj grabbed his mangled right hand, Spike scrambled to his feet and nearly leapt right out of his skin as he screamed and pulled it away from the boy. “Raj sorry, Kiwi Spike! Money now!” Raj continued, pulling Spike by his good hand towards the door of the pit.
 
“There’s no bloody money…” Spike moaned as he stumbled forward, letting the boy pull him out of the pit and back down the corridor to the locker room. The patrons had already departed from the arena, as had his opponent – how long had Spike been out? He wasn’t sure.
 
“Yes! Ticket money – Raj bet, Kiwi Spike win!” Raj prattled happily as they made it into the locker room and Spike collapsed down onto the bench near his locker.
 
“You moronic blighter! There’s no soddin’ money and I told ya before, I’m not a bloody Kiwi!” Spike spat at the boy angrily as he held his mangled wrist against his chest to keep it from moving.
 
Raj frowned and looked at Spike with large brown eyes full of hurt and disappointment. That fifty dollars Spike had been giving him for placing his bets each week had been a godsend to him and his family. Raj tried again, pulling the betting slip out of Spike’s locker and holding it up.
 
“Raj get money now?” he asked hopefully, waving the paper in front of Spike’s eyes.
 
Spike roared in anger and grabbed the betting ticket from the boy’s hand and ripped it into four pieces, using his good hand and his teeth, and tossed the pieces in the air. “No bloody money!” Spike snapped at him. “No money, no Christmas, no Saint-fucking-Nick!” he continued to scream, pulling the ‘Dear Santa’ letter out of his back pocket, where he’d left it for ‘luck’, and ripping it into several pieces as well and tossing them at the now frightened boy.
 
“Sod off!” Spike scowled at the clean-up boy, waving his good arm towards the door.
 
Raj’s frown deepened, but finally he turned dejectedly and left Spike alone in the locker room.
 
Spike looked at the floor littered with broken hopes and dreams, and tears stung his cut and blackened eyes. He dropped his head down into his good hand and bent forward, propping his elbow on one painfully exhausted thigh as he tried to swallow back the hurt that sprang up from his heart … not from the beating he’d taken, but from the knowledge that he’d let his family down – again.

 

“Well, that was a rather unlucky turn of events,” Mr. Andreev offered as he entered the locker room.
 
Spike snorted derisively and shook his head where it rested in his hand. “I reckon…” he agreed sarcastically as he tried to clear the mist from his eyes. He didn’t need to be labeled a ponce; he may get another chance in the next tournament … it would be too late for Christmas, but he may still be able to get his family out of their financial predicament, just a little later than he’d hoped. Providing, of course, that he survived whatever Mr. Shark would do when Spike didn’t have his money repaid on time.
 
“I should disqualify you. That’s what I should do…” Mr. Andreev continued, his voice bordering between angry and exasperated.
 
Spike sighed heavily as that last hope that he’d be able to come back and compete next time started slipping away. He knew using the silver to try and defeat the Fyarl was … questionable, but … he had no choice at that moment, nothing else he’d tried had even made a dent against the giant, unbelievably strong demon.
 
“Lucky for you, you’re popular with the crowd … you put on a good show, give them the brutality they want and keep them coming back and spending money,” Mr. Andreev continued as he dropped $2,000 in hundred dollar bills onto the bench next to Spike.
 
Spike saw it out of the corner of his eye and furrowed his brow, then looked up at his boss. “What’s that for?”
 
Mr. Andreev shrugged. “Your winnings … but I’m warning you, don’t try another stunt like that again.”

 

“My … winnings?” Spike’s mind raced, or, perhaps it stumbled and lurched and finally stammered slowly … “I won?”
 
“Yeah … unconscious wins over dead …” the small man explained before turning and heading out of the locker room.
 
“Bloody hell!” Spike exclaimed in a panic. “RAJ! RAJ! Get your skinny ass back in here!” he called out the door.
 
When Raj reappeared in the doorway, Spike was gathering up the ripped and scattered papers from the floor with one hand and laying them out on the bench he’d been sitting on like puzzle pieces.
 
“Why the bloody hell didn’t you tell me I won!?” Spike demanded as he tried to piece everything back together.
 
Raj looked at him like he’d lost his mind. “Raj tell! Kiwi Spike win! Get money!” he defended as he moved into the room and helped Spike get the rest of the paper up from the floor.
 
Spike sighed and rolled his eyes. “So you did…” he admitted. He just wasn’t hearing him … he knew that he’d lost, he thought Raj was just an idiot.
 
“Got any clear tape?” Spike asked the boy and Raj shook his head, not understanding.
 
“Tape, glue, adhesive, Stickum … bloody flour and water!” Spike tried, demonstrating with his good hand that he wanted to put the papers all back together.
 
“Scotch!” Raj exclaimed, his eyes widening and nodding eagerly.

 

“Don’t need a soddin’ drink! I need tape! Glue! What the fuck!? … Ruban adhésif!” Spike tried in French then, “Bànchuānggāo,” in Chinese … Spike didn’t speak Vietnamese.
 
“Raj get scotch!” Raj agreed, turning and running from the room.
 
Spike sighed and rolled his eyes. He actually wouldn’t mind a stiff drink, but that wasn’t gonna get that betting slip put back in one piece … he hoped they’d take it taped back together – they might not; if he was the bookie, he’d tell the idiot that tore it up to sod off.
 
Raj returned quickly, smiling widely and holding a green-checkered Scotch tape dispenser up in triumph.

 

“Bloody hell…” Spike moaned, but nodded and motioned for him to help him get the betting ticket put back together.
 
Up at the betting window, Spike handed the repaired ticket to the woman who’d called him a Fenian. She looked at it dubiously, raising her brows and looking up at Spike.
 
Spike shrugged. “Ticket had a bit of a row of its own … but good as new now,” he offered, trying to forget her earlier insult and give her his most charming smile, but he figured the grime, mixed with the bruises and red and green blood all over his face, clothing, and teeth probably wasn’t projecting the desired effect. Maybe he should’ve cleaned up first.
 
“I’ll have to check with the boss…” she told him, getting up off her stool and heading out of the small booth on the demon side of the betting cage and closing the door behind her so Spike couldn’t see or hear the conversation on the ‘human’ side of the fortress.
 
Spike shifted nervously back and forth from one foot to the other as he concocted and rehearsed a story … sad and heart wrenching, to deliver to whoever was making this decision about his ticket. It was a lot easier when he was a ‘real vamp’ … he’da just ripped someone’s head off and that would’ve been the end of that argument. Sometimes having a soul sucked…
 
After many long minutes, the woman came back into the small booth and sat back down on her stool. “Mr. Andreev says you’ve used up your good will,” the woman started and Spike’s gut twisted and wrenched and any air he’d had in his lungs to weave his tale of woe evaporated like fog in the noon-day sun.  
 
Not only had his stupidity cost him the $3,000 he would’ve won this night, it had cost him the $3,000 he’d bet, as well … one rash moment had cost him $6,000 … and so much more. He wouldn’t have the money for Christmas, or the money to bet next week to get enough for Mr. Shark … he just got buggered in the ass, but he’d buggered himself; it was a feeling Spike wasn’t completely unfamiliar with.
 
“No more favors … this is the last rule he’s gonna bend for you,” she continued as she counted out six thousand dollars and slid the stack of bills through the slot in the window to Spike.
 
Spike nearly fell to his knees as relief washed over him; at that moment he believed there was a God – it was a short-lived but welcome epiphany. He grabbed the money before anyone could change their minds and stuffed it down into the pocket of his duster before heading back to the locker room where he’d left Raj taping the letter to Santa back together.
 
Raj smiled – as he often did, when Spike walked in. Spike didn’t know why the kid liked him so well … maybe because of the money he gave him, but maybe it was just because Spike treated him like he was a person, not an indentured servant – well, usually.
 
“Pretty picture!” Raj declared, holding up the red construction paper with all the pictures taped to it, which was now nearly completely laminated in Scotch tape, front and back.
 
“Yeah … pretty,” Spike agreed, taking it from his hand and looking at it. He didn’t know how much that stuff cost, but he was going to do his damnedest to get every bit of it … well, not the Escalade or the Gem, of course, but the stuff for the kids.
 
If he spent $3,000 on Christmas and gave Buffy $1,000 for the bills, that would still leave him $4,000 to bet on Christmas night – if he won, he’d have the $10,000 to pay off Mr. Shark. He wouldn’t have any left to bet, but that didn’t matter because if he won that fight, he’d be in the final – he’d be one fight away from half a million dollars.
 
Not ‘if’ – when! Spike admonished himself silently, as he took a deep breath – then winced as pain shot out from his crushed sternum and collapsed lungs. A little Slayer blood, a little rest … he’d be good as new by next week. Spike tried to move his wrist, but didn’t get far before he decided better of it. Didn’t matter, as long as he could move it by next Saturday, it didn’t matter right now.
 
Spike pulled a hundred dollar bill out of his pocket and handed to Raj … he’d give Buffy nine hundred for the bills. It was the least he could do, Raj had, after all, tried to tell him that he’d won and to go get the soddin’ money. Truth be told, he should give it all to the boy … but he couldn’t, not now. After the half million … then he could give the boy his due.
 
Raj smiled wider – he usually got fifty and that had been more than anyone had ever given him, even the Tasm’ni demons, who seemed to genuinely like him, never tipped him more than five dollars. “Kiwi Spike, the best! Super-heavy-duty! A-number-one!” Raj enthused as he tucked the gift into his pocket.
 
“And don’t you bloody forget it,” Spike drawled as he turned and headed out into the cool night. If he hurried, he could make it to the Bronze before closing and pick up some fried cheese and marinara sauce…
 
**~**
 
(later that morning) Sunday, December 19th, 2010, 10:00am, Sunnydale:
 
Buffy cast Bess’ locator spell for the third time and for the third time nothing happened. She stood at the research table and blew out a frustrated breath, folding her arms over her chest as she tried to figure out what she was doing wrong. She’d done the same thing she’d done every morning for the last six months … nothing had changed, expect now it wasn’t working.
 
Buffy touched a hand to her neck – the fresh bite was still a little tender and red – had she been giving too much blood to Spike? Had it weakened her and that’s why the spell wasn’t working anymore? She felt ok, but maybe it was taking something away that she wasn’t aware of; some power that the magic needed to work. She’d been donating regularly of late – at least once a week, sometimes twice. Not that it was a whole pint every time, but enough to help Spike heal, and last night was one of those nights.
 
Spike had come home in the small hours of the morning beat all to hell – again. Despite his promise to be careful, he’d run into a Fyarl demon on his way out of work who’d jumped him and tried to steal his dart and snooker winnings from the night – and Spike wasn’t giving it up. Buffy could understand that, but at the same time chastised him for forgetting his ‘careful’ promise. Of course, she couldn’t stay mad at him very long when he started talking about doing it for her and the bits; the nine hundred dollars he dropped on the nightstand didn’t hurt, either. She decided to take some of that money and buy the kids things they needed for Christmas – it wouldn’t be what they wanted, but perhaps she could swing one of the video games that they could all share and the requisite semi-annual supply of socks, underwear, and shoes, and a new winter jacket for each one of them. Hey – it was more than some kids got, they should be grateful. Now, if Buffy could just convince herself of that …
 
Buffy had also sewn up a large supply of Scrunchies and Anya was selling them at the Magic Box for her. Despite not having the patent she wanted yet, and the Magic Box not being the most logical place to sell them, she had to do something to bring in more money. She started with a Christmas / holiday selection for now and thought she’d make some magic themed ones after the first of the year. They actually were selling pretty well, considering it wasn’t a place you’d typically shop for hair products.

 

Buffy tried to go online and figure out how to apply for a patent herself, but the forms were daunting and honestly, she couldn’t really even figure out what the fee was, they had so many different ones – plus, even if she figured it out, she didn’t have the money to pay the fucking fee… She hoped that she could make enough from selling the Scrunchies in the Magic Box to cover the fee to patent them and the fee for a lawyer to help her file for the patent. It was starting to look like a Catch-22 … she just hoped no one jumped on her bandwagon and stole ‘her’ idea before she could get that done.
 
Buffy sighed and picked up the phone and dialed Willow and Tara’s number – maybe they’d have better luck finding Bess.
 
After several minutes of waiting on the phone, Willow came back on the line. “I didn’t get anything either…” she said worriedly. “I tried four times – nada.”
 
Buffy sighed and thanked her friend and confirmed that they were coming down for Christmas and what time they’d be there before hanging up the phone.
 
Buffy bit her bottom lip as she tried to think. The possibility of something dire happening to Bess was nearly non-existent … but not impossible, after all, Kralik had discovered the Gem and stolen it from Spike, but that was so bizarre it hardly seemed possible that something like that could happen twice. Unless someone knew where to look for it … but who would know? As far as Buffy knew, the only two people that knew where on Bess’ body the Gem had been hidden were her and Spike – and not even Buffy knew exactly where it was, only that it was in her thigh, and Bess had never been told at all.
 
“Whatcha doin’?” Billy asked, pulling her from her musings and making Buffy jump. She’d been so engrossed in her thoughts she hadn’t even heard him come down the stairs.
 
“Looking for Bess,” Buffy explained. “I can’t find her – have you talked to her lately?”
 
Billy looked at the dark map then back up at his mom – he was afraid this might happen. He nodded slowly. “Yeah … a couple of nights ago,” he admitted.
 
“And … was she ok?” Buffy prodded when he didn’t elaborate.


 
Billy shrugged. “Yeah, I think so, but she was asking a lot of questions about … stuff.”
 
“Stuff? What stuff?”
 
Billy scrunched his face up, pursing his lips and moving them back and forth as he often did when he was thinking intently.
 
“Billy, what stuff?” Buffy pressed again.
 
“Magic stuff …” he admitted. “I might’ve accidentally told her we knew where she was…”
 
Buffy sighed. “And she didn’t like that?”
 
“I don’t think so … She said something about being a grown up and that she didn’t need a babysitter…” Billy related with a sigh. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to tell her that, it just slipped out and … then she got to asking questions and …” Billy shrugged despondently.
 
“It’s ok, baby. I guess if I was her I wouldn’t want a babysitter either,” Buffy admitted as she folded up the map and put the magic supplies away. A palpable sense of loss descended over Buffy as she did that – as if she’d lost Bess all over again, but she didn’t want Billy to feel badly, it really wasn’t his fault, so she tried to hide the hurt. She was the one that encouraged him to talk to Bess again – and Buffy had been happy to hear that she’d at least started speaking to him again in the dreams. Obviously, Bess had figured out there were amulets that blocked locator spells and where to get them…
 
“I don’t guess she said what her plans were, then…” Buffy ventured.
 
Billy shook his head. “She said she had a friend she wanted to go visit, but she didn’t say where or who. I’m sorry, Mama…”
 
Buffy smiled and knelt down to his level, taking both his hands in hers. “It’s not your fault, sweet boy. I know that she’ll come back one day – I can feel it in my heart, can’t you?”
 
Billy looked down at the floor and nodded slightly, before raising his eyes back to Buffy’s. “I think she wants to … but I think she’s scared.”
 
Buffy brushed some of his unruly curls away from his face and nodded. “Well, we’ll just have to wait for her to be ready and do everything we can to make sure she knows this is her home, won’t we?”
 
Billy nodded thoughtfully and Buffy pulled him into a hug as she blinked back tears.
 
“Don’t worry Mama, Santa will bring her home – we wrote him a letter,” Billy assured her, returning her hug. “He knows where everybody is…”
 
Buffy laughed lightly and nodded her head as a tear rolled slowly down her cheek. This was shaping up to be a heartbreaking Christmas if ever there was one…

 

**~**

{{Click here to hear “If We Make It Through December”, Merle Haggard on YouTube  }}


 If we make it through December
Everything’s gonna be all right I know
It's the coldest time of winter
And I shiver when I see the fallin’ snow

If we make it through December
I got plans of bein’ in a warmer town come summer time
Maybe even California
If we make it through December we'll be fine

I got laid off down at the factory
And there timings not the greatest in the world
Heaven knows I been workin' hard
I wanted Christmas to be right for daddy's girl
Now I don't mean to hate December
It's meant to be the happy time of year
And why my little girl don't understand
Why daddy can't afford no Christmas here

If we make it through December
Everything’s gonna be alright I know
It's the coldest time of winter
And I shiver when I see the fallin' snow

If we make it through December
I got plans of bein' in a warmer town come summer time
Maybe even California
If we make it through December we'll be fine
End Notes:
TBC ... Next comes Christmas. We'll find out how well Spike did in making everyone's Christmas wishes come true ...
God Gave Me You by Passion4Spike
Author's Notes:
How will the nightmare that is sometimes known as 'Christmas' go without money to fund ‘Santa wishes’ this year? Will Santa-Spike be able to keep the Grinch away? Spike wants it to be a memorable day for his family; be careful what you wish for...
**
Music Referenced:
God Gave Me You, Blake Shelton http://youtu.be/hlwysjDZ4c8
 **
ScreenCaps courtesy of ScreenCap Paradise: http://www.screencap-paradise.com/?cat=3
**
Thanks to 'epd4' for betaing this chapter. Any mistakes are mine because I can't stop fiddling ...
(Christmas Eve / early morning hours of Christmas Day) Saturday, December 25th, 2010, 2:00am, Sunnydale:
 
Spike crept upstairs and silently checked on Buffy and the kids – everyone was sleeping soundly – perfect. He’d ‘called’ her earlier to tell her not to wait up, he was involved in a poker game and would be very late – probably wouldn’t make it home much before dawn. She’d moaned and told him he was just trying to get out of helping wrap the ‘Santa gifts’, which he didn’t exactly deny. She ended their conversation with her typical admonishment – ‘be careful’, and had gone to bed not long afterwards, completely exhausted mentally and physically. She’d managed to get a couple of video games for the kids, not the ones they asked for, but ones she knew they didn’t have, they were used ones she found at the pawn shop really cheap. She had also gotten the clothing they needed, and those items now waited under the tree, wrapped in pretty paper and tied up with bows, from Santa.
 
There were other presents under there, too – from Clem, Lorne, Faith, Wes, Giles, the Harris’, and Willow and Tara. It really wasn’t as dire as it seemed, to be honest, but Buffy still felt bad that most of the items on their Santa wish list would go unfilled this Christmas. The adults had agreed to not exchange gifts this year – only the children would be getting presents. Buffy had picked up a couple of small things for JJ and Edmond while she was shopping – MacKenzie got diapers … well, they were in a big box and wrapped, maybe the baby would like playing with the colorful, sparkly paper, at least.
 
Spike made his way back downstairs and went to the garage where Raj was waiting and he signaled the ‘all clear’. The clean-up boy helped Spike carry in the packages, all wrapped haphazardly with waaay too much scotch tape and bows stuck in strange places, none of which quite matched the paper they were adorning. Some of the larger boxes had two or three different papers on them because the ‘elves’ had run out of one roll and had to piece it together or the paper just wasn’t big enough. The ends of large presents were especially prone to being wrapped in unmatched paper when they were left barren because one roll of paper wasn’t wide enough to cover it.

 

Spike had managed to get nearly everything on the kids’ list: A pretty cheap, refurbished laptop computer for Annie – he didn’t know if it had everything she needed and he wished he could’ve consulted Red about it, but … if it wouldn’t work properly, he could get her a different one after he won the tournament, a Kindle Fire for Billy, the two Wii games they’d asked for and instead of Guitar Hero, he got Band Hero, which had a lead and bass guitar, drums, and vocals and addressed it to Annie, Dani, Billy, and JJ. He also got the Rollerblades Dani wanted – he knew Buffy got her the soccer cleats as part of the ‘new shoes’ Christmas tradition since her old ones were getting too small anyway, he refused, however, to buy her a David Beckham poster, but instead got her a new ManU poster – a mosaic made up of hundreds of smaller photos.

 

He didn’t get the iPad, that was just beyond his ability to do, and he didn’t get the Stormtrooper outfit because the only ones he could afford were cheap knock-offs and looked like cheap knock-offs. He thought overall he’d done pretty well considering the time and money had had to work with. He’d also gotten a little something for Buffy … despite the ‘no adult gifts’ rule.
 
Of course, there were things on the list which were beyond his control: The trillion dollars, the Gem of Amarra, the new car for Buffy, bringing Bess home … The Blue Bomber was out of the shop and back in the driveway, that was the best he could do on those requests, at least for now; the half million prize money for winning the fighting championship was as close to a ‘trillion’ as he could get – that would arrive a little late … he hoped.
 
When they’d gotten everything situated under and around the tree, Spike offered Raj some of the cookies and milk that the kids had left out. They’d taken to making both chocolate chip and candy cane cookies for Santa, and Santa was happy to oblige them by eating them all. Finally, when the cookies and milk were gone, Spike took the large bundle of carrots they’d left for the reindeer and gave them to his ‘elf’ and drove Raj home. Raj and his two sisters lived with their mother and father, neither of whom spoke any English, in a depressingly rundown apartment building not far from the ‘fight palace’.
 
Spike hadn’t really thought about it before he asked Raj to help him with the wrapping and delivery of the gifts … all that stuff must’ve looked like a million dollars worth of goodies to the boy. But Raj never complained or lamented his fate, he always had a quick smile and was eager to help his Kiwi friend. Spike vowed again to remember his little helper when he got the big prize … for once, the underdog was going to win, and the ones who had helped along the way would not be forgotten.
 
**~**
 
Christmas Morning, Saturday, December 25th, 2010, 7:00am, Sunnydale:


 
Just as they’d done when Annie was younger, Buffy and Spike had forbidden the kids to go downstairs without the adults on Christmas morning and they’d forbidden them to leave their rooms before 7am – period. And, just as Annie had done when she was a believer, Dani and Billy were banging on Buffy and Spike’s door at 7am on the dot this morning. They’d been up for almost an hour already and had ventured a peek downstairs (but didn’t actually descend the steps, as instructed, even though they had left their rooms. What the heck, they had a whole year to make up for that small indiscretion with Santa) and were giddy with excitement – Santa had come! Colorful presents peeked out from under the bows of the tree, overflowed the tree skirt, and beckoned from the floor all around the evergreen.
 
Annie was out in the hallway waiting for her parents to rise, also, but her excitement was tempered by the knowledge that Santa didn’t exist and the money woes that had been building all year hadn’t gotten any better. She’d begged Dani and Billy to not write the letter to Santa this year, but couldn’t come up with a valid reason why not without divulging the truth, which she knew her mom and dad wouldn’t want her to do. Billy had been the most adamant and dictated most of the letter with Dani filling in here and there, and it had been him that had given the letter to his mom to mail after adding his own ‘PS’ to the bottom, unbeknownst to Annie. They’d all worked on the cutouts and getting the collage done, just so there was no mistaking what it was they were asking for.
 
When the bleary-eyed parents emerged from their room, Dani and Billy were like Mexican jumping beans on speed … it was a total excitement overload. Billy in his dinosaur PJ’s and Dani in her oversized Man-U t-shirt which fell nearly to her knees, were like two blond Tasmanian devils, urging their parents forward by pulling on their hands and jumping up and down at the same time.
 
“Santa came! Santa came!” they chorused for Buffy and Spike with glee as they tried to guide them quickly towards the stairs.
 
“Ok! Ok! Hold your horses a minute!” Buffy objected. “I need to pee and we need to get your little sister and I need to talk to you a minute before we go see what Santa brought,” she explained, thwarting their best efforts to get her downstairs.
 
Their giddy chorus turned into a cacophony of baleful moans and groans, as if they’d just been given a death sentence.
 
Buffy sighed and shook her head as she went down the hall to the bathroom. She sympathized with them, she could remember the dizzying excitement of Christmas morning herself … her stomach churned slightly with the knowledge that their excitement would be short-lived when they saw the meager offerings she managed to scrape together from ‘Santa’.
 
Spike gave them a stern look. “Don’t move and no peeking, either,” he informed them as he went to the nursery to get MacKenzie up, changed, and dressed.
 
When Buffy came back out, she knelt down and made Dani and Billy stand still in front of her, which was no small feat. “I need to talk to you a minute,” she began, looking up at Annie as well, who was leaning against the wall behind the twins.

 

“Santa called late last night and said that he was sorry, but he couldn’t fit everything on his sleigh,” Buffy began and the twin’s faces fell from deliriously happy to morbidly depressed in an instant.
 
“But … he’ll bring it later, right?” Billy questioned hopefully.
 
“Well … that’s the thing, Santa’s magic only works once a year, so anything he couldn’t bring will have to wait until next year. He’s really, really sorry … he just got so many requests for really big things that he ran out of room…” Buffy explained.
 
The twin pouts that appeared in unison on the blonde’s faces made Buffy’s heart ache and her stomach knot. She fought the tears that threatened her eyes, blinking them back and putting on a false, too bright smile. “It’ll be ok – you wouldn’t want to get everything you wanted for Christmas, then we wouldn’t have anything to get you for your birthday …” she pointed out hopefully. It wasn’t really working…
 
“Ok, who’s for seeing what ole St. Nick brought you bits?!” Spike called cheerfully as he joined them with the baby. “What’s the matter? Do ya think he brought ya a sack full o’ coal?” he asked when he saw their forlorn faces.
 
Billy and Dani looked at him, the deadly pouts still on their faces. “Mama says Santa called and said he couldn’t bring everything …” Billy explained sadly.
 
“Did he now?” Spike asked, cocking a brow and looking at Buffy.
 
“Right then … I reckon that tank of an SUV woulda been a bit hard for the reindeer to manage, probably woulda gave Rudolph a hernia … and I’d lay odds on Buttercup if ole St. Nick tried to snag ‘er off the bloody street,” Spike agreed. “But I reckon them little computer games and whatnot weren’t too big for that oversized sleigh.”
 
Buffy glared daggers at him. She was trying to get their hopes down, not up!

 

Spike ignored her deadly look and shrugged. “Let’s go see, yeah? Only sure way to tell what he missed.”
 
Buffy stood up, still glaring at her husband, as Dani and Billy’s frowns turned upside down again and they nodded eagerly.
 
“Last one down’s a rotten egg!” Spike challenged and the kids turned and sprinted down the hall and were downstairs in a flash.
 
“Spike! Have you lost your mind!? What are you doing?!” Buffy hissed as they followed the children down the hall.
 
“No worries, pet … trust me,” he replied with a confident smirk as they started down the stairs.
 
Buffy looked down and her brows furrowed in confusion – there were way more presents under the tree than there had been last night when she went to bed. She looked back at Spike. “What did you do?”

 

“Nothing …” he asserted giving her an innocent look. “Santa musta come…”
 
“Yeah, a peroxide blond Santa with six pack abs and a stubborn streak a mile wide…” she murmured quietly as they reached the bottom of the stairs.
 
Spike and Buffy sat down on the couch as the kids picked out gifts and began tearing into them, Buffy recording the events with her digital camera as Spike held the baby. The kids, including Annie, shrieked with joy as they opened every gift. Well, almost every gift elicited joy – the underwear, socks, and jackets were met with lukewarm indifference and the shoes were little better, except the cleats for Dani, which she loved. There was no mention of the haphazard wrapping or the overabundance of Scotch tape or the mismatched, lopsided ribbons that adorned some of the packages … obviously Santa had a new elf in training assigned to wrap those…
 
Dani and Billy helped MacKenzie unwrap her presents, which, in addition to diapers, also included a new, colorful plush butterfly that had lots of different little compartments and rings and fabric designs to hold the baby’s interest, and also a soft, redheaded Raggedy Ann doll for their little redhead.

  

Although the toys held the baby’s interest for a short while, eliciting coos and smiles, the colorful paper and ribbons that were strewn all over the floor was much more enthralling for the eleven week old. Of course, what she really wanted to do was put all that paper in her mouth, since anything that looked that good must taste good … but the older kids were dutiful in keeping most of the gift wrapping out of their little sister’s reach.
 
“LOOK!” Billy enthused as they got to the presents at the very back. “It’s for Bess! Santa must’ve found her! She must be on her way, just like we wished for!”
 
Spike bit down on his bottom lip – he hadn’t intended on giving that impression when he bought some things for Bess – he just wanted to have something here for when she did return, whenever that was. He wanted her to know she hadn’t been forgotten. Buffy looked at Spike and immediately knew he’d fucked up.

 

“Oh, honey,” Buffy cajoled her son softly. “It could be that Santa couldn’t find her because of the magic blocking amulet she has, so he left her stuff here for us to keep for her. He just didn’t know where else to deliver it. His locator spell probably didn’t work any better than ours…” Buffy explained.
 
“Oh…” Billy replied sadly, setting the presents marked for Bess off to one side. He shrugged lightly and pursed his lips together in a perfect imitation of his father. “We’ll just hold on to them for her then. Maybe if I tell her they’re here, she’ll come get them,” he suggested hopefully.
 
Buffy gave him a reassuring smile and nodded. “Maybe she will…”
 
“Look, Mom! Here’s one for you!” Annie exclaimed in surprise – it was the first thing they’d come to that was for either of the adults.
 
Buffy furrowed her brow again and frowned, giving Spike a disapproving look. She hadn’t gotten him anything – they had agreed. Spike just smiled at her with that self-satisfied smirk he had. Damn obstinate, pig-headed, stubborn male …

 

It was a small box, like a jewelry box and Buffy’s frown deepened. Where had he gotten the money for all this? That was worrisome…
 
There was a card attached to the package, which was, at least, all wrapped in the same paper, but would likely require Slayer strength to rip through the clear tape that it was laminated with. Buffy opened the card first…

 

Inside, in Spike’s elegant Victorian script, it read:
 
My darling Buffy,
 
Don’t be mad – I can feel your anger even as I write this. I know this isn’t fair and we agreed no gifts, but what can I say? Vampire. Evil, remember?

 
Buffy snorted and looked up at him, rolling her eyes. Was he gonna use that as an excuse for the rest of eternity? He still had that smirk on his face … he was enjoying this too much. She dropped her eyes back down and continued reading…
 
This isn’t the most romantic gift I’ve ever given you, and is by far not the most expensive, but I hope it will make your heart soar all the same, just as you do mine every time you walk into the room.
 

Oh boy, he was laying it on thick now, and she’d forgotten to wear her wading boots.
 
Always know that everything I do, I do for you. You have brought me the world, you make me whole, you light my way through the darkness and fill me with hope for the future … for forever at your side. I know that nothing less than a divine conspiracy has brought you to me. You'll always be love's great martyr, I'll always be the flattered fool; I need you. I know we can weather any storm, face any challenge, and overcome any threat – together.

You are my angel from heaven; you cannot fathom how much I love you.  I know this because I have yet to find the depths of my love for you, which at times threatens to drown me in euphoric bliss. I wish only to give you a small taste of that delight today …

Merry Christmas.

With all my love,
 William

 
~*~
 
Damn him. Damn evil vampire! Damn evil, romantic, sappy vampire! Coming from anyone else, that would seem an unveiled attempt to simply keep her from being mad at him for getting a gift when they’d agreed not to; coming from Spike … from William, from the poet, Buffy knew that it was nothing but heartfelt veracity.
 
Buffy blew out a breath and blinked her misty eyes as she put the card back in the envelope and tucked it under her leg where she sat on the couch. Then turned her attention to the Slayer-proof box…
 
After some struggle to find an opening in the tape to actually get to the paper, Buffy finally held a small box, about the size of the box her charm bracelet had come in, in her palm.
 
“You really are evil…” Buffy reminded Spike as he watched with hopeful anticipation.
 
“Can’t help it, luv … you bring it out in me,” he asserted.

 

Buffy ‘humphed’ as she pulled the lid off – but it wasn’t jewelry in the box, it was … money and a business card. Buffy furrowed her brow and picked up the card. ‘Samuel J. Liston, Attorney at Law,’ the card read, ‘Specializing in International Patent, Trademark, and Copyright practices.’ It then gave an address in Los Angeles and one in Huntington Beach, not far from Sunnydale.
 
“You have an appointment Monday in Huntington,” Spike informed her. “Money’ll cover his fees. We’ll have to get more for the patent filing fee, but maybe next week I’ll get a good spot o’ luck…”
 
Buffy bit her bottom lip as she turned the card over in her hand, seeing the time and date of her appointment written on the back, and let it sink in – of course he would give it to her like this, this way she couldn’t justify using the money to pay bills with, she’d feel obligated to go see the attorney and get started on the process of patenting the Scrunchies.
 
“You’re a creep,” she informed him, putting the business card and the money in the envelope with the Christmas card and stuffing it all down into the back pocket of her jeans.
 
“In a lovable way?” he asked hopefully.
 
“In a creepy, cheesy, evil vampire way …” Buffy contended. “So, yeah … it’s a love-fest, a creepy, cheesy, evil vampire love-fest.”

 

Buffy finally smiled at him and leaned over and pressed a kiss to his lips. “I love you. Thank you – it’s really the best gift I’ve ever gotten,” she told him sincerely.
 
Not that she didn’t love all the jewelry and other so-called ‘romantic’ gifts, but there was more to this – there was belief; belief in her idea, belief in her ability to contribute, belief in her. That really meant a lot, and inside she felt her heart expand a little more for this creepy, evil vampire who knew her so well and loved her so deeply. She never thought her heart could hold more love for him … but he always seemed to inspire her to find room to squeeze in a little more.
 
Spike smiled brightly and pulled her back against him, deepening the kiss as he trailed one hand down the side of her body and settled it gently on her hip while the other tangled in the soft hair at the nape of her neck. He was worried that she’d be mad at him for interfering in her project … he was glad she took the gift as it was offered, as a token of his love and faith in her. Everything William had written in the card was true … she was the one that led him out of the darkness and gave him hope for the future - he would always be the flattered fool and that feeling of drowning in her threatened to overwhelm him even now … right up until three children who were sitting on the floor by the tree starting coughing and gagging loudly.

 

Buffy laughed against Spike’s lips as the kiss broke, leaning her forehead against his. “I think we grossed them out…” she observed with a smile.
 
“It’s m’ mission in life, luv,” Spike teased with a smile of his own.
 
“Well, you’re doing an excellent job … should we see how long it takes before they have to run for cover?” Buffy suggested.
 
“Sounds like a brilliant idea, pet,” Spike agreed, capturing her lips again in another passionate kiss.
 
Unfortunately, they’d underestimated their Scooby-pups and, instead of running for cover, they attacked – jumping on the couch and on top of their parent’s backs and beginning a round of ‘Tickle-me-Spike’ which, if the demon world ever realized was so effective against Big Bad, would be the end of him. He could take pain, he could handle torment and agony, blackened eyes and broken noses … but tickling in the ribs was too much for him to withstand for long.
 
Spike roared and laughed and growled and tried to get the small army away from him, but they hung on, even as he fell off the couch onto the floor. He wiggled and writhed as tears welled in his eyes and he fought off his attackers until finally, thankfully, they’d all laughed themselves into oblivion and stopped. Even MacKenzie seemed to enjoy the free-for-all in her place by the tree as she smiled and cooed and squealed in delight.
 
Buffy had been released when Spike fell to the floor and all the children descended on their downed prey like a pack of hyenas that smelled blood.  She thought about helping him momentarily, but instead went and retrieved the baby, just in case the ruckus got more out of hand … plus, MacKenzie had probably eaten her quota of wrapping paper for the day.
 
“Oh, bloody hell…” Spike moaned as small giggles continued to trickle from the throats of his children as they lay atop him, arms and legs scattered every-which-way while they tried to catch their breath.


 
“And you two!” he exclaimed accusingly, looking up at Buffy and the baby. “No bloody help at all! I bloody well hope St. Nick’s keeping track o’ all this bollocks! Coal all ‘round next year, I’d wager!”
 
“Nun-uh!” Billy objected, sitting up finally. “Santa loves us!” he proclaimed as Dani and Annie followed suit and let their father up.
 
Spike sat up and ruffled his son’s unruly curls. “I reckon he does at that…”
 
**~**
 
“Spike … can I talk to you in here?” Buffy requested, heading for the training room, as the kids started gathering up all the paper scattered over the living room floor.
 
“Need to help the bits get these games hooked up…” he tried, but Buffy’s look told him that wasn’t gonna fly. He sighed and joined her in the training room and she closed the door behind them.
 
“Where did you get the money for all that?” she questioned, shifting the baby to her other arm.

 

“Santa …” he began.
 
“Spike. Don’t patronize me,” Buffy warned. “Where did the money come from?”
 
Spike rolled his eyes, his hands going to his hips. “I won it – bettin’,” he answered truthfully.
 
“In one night?” she wondered doubtfully.
 
“Yeah – one night,” he answered truthfully again, if not actually clarifying that it wasn’t last night. “I’m sorry pet, I woulda told ya, but … well, I just didn’t really have time. I know we coulda used it for other things, but the bits … I just couldn’t bear to see them … crushed this mornin’.”
 
Buffy blew out a long sigh, then confusion furrowed her brows. “What stores were open late enough for you to get all that stuff … and just how did you manage to get that appointment for Monday with that attorney in the middle of the night on Christmas Eve?”
 
Uht-oh … busted. “I had a plan …” Spike explained. “I might’ve actually won the money a few days ago..." he admitted.


 
“Buffy … luv – wasn’t it worth one more bill collector callin’ to see the look on their faces this mornin’? We can handle the tossers on the phone and their threatenin’ letters, ain’t gonna really change a bloody thing one way or another, but this …” he waved his hand at the door, indicating all the presents under the tree and the kids, “… this they’ll remember forever.”
 
Buffy sighed again and shook her head slowly. “You’re a good father, Spike … I just wish you would’ve told me…”
 
“I’m sorry, luv,” he offered. “I … well, I sorta wanted to surprise you too … wanted you to remember it forever too…”
 
Buffy nodded. “Well, there’s no doubt that will happen … I’ll probably have nightmares about being wrapped in mismatched Christmas paper while being chased by giant demony wads of Scotch tape for years…”
 
Spike laughed and shrugged, dipping his head and rubbing a hand on the back of his neck. “So, you’re saying I shouldn’t apply for a job wrapping gifts at the mall next year…”

 

“Not unless you just enjoy being humiliated and fired…”
 
**~**
 
By mid-afternoon all their friends were once again gathered at the mansion, as had become the tradition over the years. The house was filled with the joyful laughter of children as they played with their new toys and games, a fire crackled and glowed in the hearth, Christmas carols played on the iPod speaker dock, and the wonderful aroma of turkey roasting in the oven filled the whole of the large house. Spike once again thought that the scene could’ve been plucked from a Norman Rockwell painting, with some allowances for Lorne and Clem, of course.
 
Spike was pulled out of his musings by glass shattering and deep growling coming from the other side of the great room, when he looked up, four Fyarl demons had crashed through the garden doors.
 
“Oh, bloody hell!” Spike exclaimed as he moved forward towards the uninvited guests just as one of the demons began smashing the antique, rosewood armoire that was near the door.

 

Clem, Lorne, Buffy, and Tara came out of the kitchen to see what the ruckus was. As soon as they saw the intruders, Buffy instructed Tara to get Willow and get all the kids upstairs and signaled to Lorne and Clem to stay in the kitchen.
 
“Don’t let anything burn!” she instructed the two demons before turning to Xander. “Break out some weapons … get my scythe!” she barked as the intruders started moving further into the room, leaving a path of demolished furniture in their wake. Spike was moving forward quickly, trying to cut off their advance just as Buffy reached his side.
 
“What do they want?” she asked him, sizing up the Fyarls.
 
“What any Fyarl wants, to crush stuff into little bits … apparently, they’ve decided they want to crush our stuff,” Spike informed her as the demons grunted and growled at them in their native tongue.
 
“Why?” Buffy questioned, turning to make sure Willow and Tara had gotten all the children upstairs … Anya apparently joined them, as well.
 
“Duuno, luv … they aren’t big talkers … more the strong, silent type…” Spike provided. “Watch out for the mucus…”
 
“Mucus? What mucus?” Buffy questioned as she looked behind her for Xander and the weapons.
 
“Paralyzing mucus. Shoots out through the nose. Sets on fast. Hard as a rock,” Spike explained.
 
“Oh gross! Can’t I have one fucking holiday without uninvited guests!?” Buffy exclaimed, her agitation growing.
 
“Hey, stupid!” she called to the demons. “Do you have any idea who I am?”

 

The demons growled in response. “They say ‘Crush fun. Crush now,’” Spike interpreted as the demons started moving towards them again.
 
“Where the fuck is Xander!?” Buffy questioned, chancing a glance at the training room door just as Xander appeared in it – empty handed.
 
“Xander! Weapons! Now!” Buffy screamed at him as Spike took a swing at the demon closest to him, bruising his fist on the powerful beast’s face.
 
“Owww! Bloody hell!” he exclaimed, shaking his hand in agony.
 
Buffy took a shot, aiming for the demon’s torso, but she had just about the same success as Spike had, stopping the demon only momentarily.
 
“Code! I forgot the code!” Xander called back to Buffy as she twirled and hit one of the demons with a roundhouse kick, sending it stumbling back, but only a couple of steps, and breaking the heel off her boot.
 
“God damn it!” Buffy screamed in frustration. “These are my favorite boots! You are soooo gonna die now!” she informed the intruders.
 
“Buffy! Code! What’s the lock code?” Xander called back frantically from the doorway of the training room.
 
“It’s her birthday, you berk!” Giles provided as he ran over towards the training room and went with Xander to retrieve the weapons.
 
Suddenly, the demons attacked en masse, not only Buffy and Spike, but any furniture they came near. The warriors fought, but were no match for the strength of the large demons and were losing badly by the time Xander and Giles got back with the weapons. The two men jumped into the fray, tossing the scythe to Buffy and a sword to Spike, but the weapons did little more than slow the large demons down.

 

“What the fuck!?” Buffy questioned as red blood mixed with green from the demons and stained the floor with the festive, yet somehow macabre, Christmas colors.
 
Suddenly, Lorne appeared from the kitchen, wielding butter knives from Buffy’s good silver set … the one that had been passed down from her mom and her mom’s mom.
 
“Buffy! Here!” he exclaimed, tossing one of the blunt knives to her when she looked his way.

 

“What am I supposed to do with this? Butter them up?” Buffy questioned.
 
“Silver! Silver can kill them!” Lorne explained with a shake of his head and an eye roll.
 
“Oh … huh,” Buffy muttered as she pulled back and thrust the butter knife into the abdomen of the demon that she’d been fighting.
 
For the first time, the demon screamed in pain and dropped to his knees … unfortunately, death wasn’t immediate and an enormous, smelly, gooey wad of green and yellow mucus exploded out of the Fyarl’s nose and covered her.
 
Buffy screamed in utter grossed-out horror. “Get it off! Get it off!” she demanded as she tried to pull the thick, sticky, and stinking substance off her body, but everyone else was busy fighting their own demons with the butter knifes and trying to avoid the same mucus-y fate.
 
Suddenly magic crackled through the air like a hundred small lightning bolts. “Somnus!!” Willow commanded from the top of the stairs, aiming her magic at the large demons – her eyes were black with ancient power and small flashes of electricity danced over her skin as she cast her spell.

 

The demons collapsed in heaps on the blood-stained floor, unconscious. The ensuing silence was deafening … except for the oven timer which chimed in the background and the labored breathing from the combatants, not another sound could be heard.
 
Buffy looked up at Lorne with near panic in her eyes. “Baste! The turkey needs basting,” she informed him frantically.
 
Lorne looked at her a moment, her words incongruent with her appearance, their meaning not registering with him, as she tried to get the goo off her body before it hardened. “Lorne! The turkey! Baste!” she repeated, waving a green, slimy hand towards the kitchen.
 
Lorne shook his head to clear it before turning and heading into the kitchen to baste, as instructed.
 
As the defenders were picking themselves up off the floor, wiping at the blood, checking themselves for injuries, and trying to help Buffy get the mucus off, a new voice cut the magically charged air.
 
“I’m sorry to have to interrupt your holiday, Mr. Spike,” the new demon began, his voice low and gravelly, his demeanor calm. “But I don’t seem to be getting your attention…”

 

Everyone looked up at the dapper shark demon who now stood just inside the demolished French doors that led to the garden, flanked by two additional Fyarl demons.
 
Spike pursed his lips together and glared at the new arrival. “This was your doin’?” he asked, waving an arm at the demolished great room. “We had a bloody deal!” he reminded the shark.
 
“Operative word is ‘had’, Mr. Spike, past tense, but you’ve reneged on your end of the bargain. Nothing personal, it’s just business,” Mr. Shark retorted.
 
“Spike! What’s going on! What kind of deal?” Buffy questioned as the remaining mucus hardened around her torso and arms, holding her upper body in a rock-like straightjacket.
 
Spike clenched his jaw and moved forward towards the loan shark, but was stopped short by the two bodyguards. “You’ll get your bloody money t’night! That was the deal!” Spike insisted, his voice low but adamant.
 
“No, Mr. Spike … our deal was for last night – Nochebuena. I warned you before that this would happen if you were late again, you don’t seem to be getting the message,” Mr. Shark countered.
 
“Damn it, Spike! What’s going on? What money?” Buffy demanded, moving forward. “Would someone please get this shit off me!” she pleaded, turning her torso this way and that, trying to get her arms free of the prison they were trapped in.
 
“Mrs. Spike … I am sorry to interrupt your Christmas with these unpleasantries,” the suave shark apologized, with a deep bow. “Please, allow me…”
 
“Touch ‘er and die,” Spike threatened, stepping between Buffy and the shark.

 

The loan shark smiled, revealing jagged rows of sharp teeth all canted at odd angles, but stopped moving towards Buffy. “I’m not an unreasonable man, Mr. Spike – I’ll give you a choice, the brunette or the redhead… either will cover your debt.”
 
Spike growled angrily. “And I told ya before, you touch m’ family and you’ll pray to fucking Poseidon for a quick death. I’ll have your money tonight – which was our bloody deal. Noche-bloody-buena … The Good Night – Christmas night.”
 
“I’m sorry, but that was not the agreement; Nochebuena was last night,” the shark insisted calmly. “Now, you may choose, or I will…the youngest or the oldest.”
 
“Spike, what the fuck is going on?!” Buffy questioned again. “Youngest or oldest what? We only have one cat … and she’s like … ancient.”

 

Mr. Shark turned to Buffy. “I don’t deal in kittens any longer, Mrs. Spike … I deal in hard currency … In lieu of that, I will accept human children, which are in high demand in some circles. Your husband owes me one or the other – I’m not leaving without my due.”
 
“Human …” Buffy murmured looking wide-eyed at Spike.
 
“You bet our children!?” she accused angrily, still trying to struggle out of the stiff cocoon of mucus.
 
“No, I bloody well did not!” Spike assured her before looking back at the loan shark. “I borrowed cash and I’ll have your soddin’ cash tonight – which was our fucking agreement!” he informed Mr. Shark again.
 
“You heard him,” Willow began as she stepped up beside Buffy and Spike near the intruders, her eyes still full of dark, powerful magicks. “Unless you want to end up as breaded fish fingers, I suggest you go back to your fish bowl and wait,” she cautioned the shark as magick crackled the air around her menacingly.
 
The loan shark looked between all the combatants that stood ready to defend the mansion and its inhabitants and bowed slightly to Willow.
 
“Very well … The price just went up to fifteen, Mr. Spike. Tonight,” Mr. Shark acquiesced.
 
“Fifteen?! The fucking deal was for ten tonight! You bloody wanker! I’ll have your ten and not a bloody quid more!” Spike yelled at the shark angrily.
 
“Fifteen before the sun rises again … or you will discover the length and breadth of my reach, Mr. Spike,” the shark informed him with an easy smile that belied his words.
 
“Sorry about the mess, Mrs. Spike … I do hope we didn’t interrupt your festivities too terribly,” the loan shark offered amiably before turning on his tail and leaving through the demolished French doors. The two Fyarl demons that had come in with him moved past Spike and picked up their fallen brethren before following their boss out.
 
Buffy moved up to where Spike still stood near the doors, watching the demons leave. “You wanna tell me what the hell is going on now?” she insisted. “And get this fucking shit off me!”

 

Spike could just about feel his teeth grinding down to nubs as he clenched his jaw and turned guilty eyes to her. “I … I borrowed a few quid…”
 
“Ten thousand quid?” Buffy asked indignantly. “Get this shit off me! Now!” she insisted again, struggling under the binding mucus.
 
Spike turned to Lorne who was standing in the kitchen doorway watching, turkey baster in hand. “High note …” Spike instructed simply.
 
Lorne released a long, ear piercing C note, eight octaves above middle C, with perfect pitch and resonance, which seemed to seep into the very walls of the mansion and pulsate the very foundation of the house. Buffy could feel the hard mucous begin to vibrate and then suddenly, it burst into a million, small yellowish-green pieces and fell in chunks to the floor.
 
As soon as she was free, she grabbed Spike by the arm and dragged him into the training room. “I think we need to have a little talk, Mr. Spike,” she informed him tersely.
 
Once in the training room, Buffy slammed the door and slung Spike towards the middle of the room. “You want to tell me what the fuck is going on now? You borrowed money from a fucking loan shark!? Is that how you came up with the Christmas money? What the hell were you thinking?!
 
“Ten thousand dollars!? Seriously!? Just what the hell did you do with it, Spike? ‘Cos, Christmas wasn’t that much!” she continued ranting.

 

Spike caught his balance and turned back around to face her. “You weren’t supposed to find out… We had a bloody deal – he’s welshin’ on it. I woulda had the ten to pay him back tonight – that was the deal,” Spike defended.
 
“Oh, nice … so, that makes it alright? What I don’t know won’t hurt me, is that it? You borrowed money from a loan shark without consulting me! You went behind my back and put our family in danger and for what?! So the kids would have a nice memory for the rest of their unnaturally short lives?!
 
“Please explain this so I can understand why my holiday is ruined – again, why my living room is trashed and my doors are demolished and my fucking children are being threatened! Please tell me what was so fucking important!” Buffy demanded angrily, stalking slowly forward towards him.
 
Spike stood silent, motionless, hands on hips, a grim frown on his face as she screamed at him. He had no real defense … she was right, he should’ve told her before, should’ve talked to her.
 
“Tell. Me,” Buffy insisted sternly as she came within reach of him. He met her eyes and he could feel her anger and hurt boring painfully into him – he hadn’t meant to hurt her or lie to her. When he took out the loan, he never thought it would go this far or take so long for him to get the money paid back.
 
“Bess…” he sighed, looking up at the ceiling, unable to stand her scrutiny any longer.
 
“Bess?” Buffy repeated, shaking her head in confusion. “What … when … what…” she stammered, her brows narrowed in confusion.
 
Spike blew out a loud breath of air and forced his eyes back to hers. “The motorbike broke down, back in July, just after she ran off … I … I sent money to ‘ave it repaired,” he admitted.
 
Buffy was still shaking hr head, her brows furrowed. “How …”
 
“I called every bloody garage in Renaldo … which, granted, was only three …” he admitted, rolling his eyes and dropping his hands from his hips as he started to pace in front of her, running a hand back through his locks nervously.
 
“Needed a new engine … I wired the money for it,” he explained.
 
“But Spike … for ten thousand dollars, she could’ve bought a new bike!” Buffy pointed out, moving into his line of vision.
 
“That wasn’t all … she was … nicked,” Spike continued.
 
“Nicked? Someone … stole Bess?” Buffy asked, even more confused.

 

“No … nicked … arrested,” he clarified. “Prostitution. Needed a solicitor.”
 
“Spike! You knew all this and didn’t tell me?! What the fuck is wrong with you!?” Buffy exclaimed, her agitation growing by leaps and bounds.
 
Spike blew out another breath and dropped his chin to his chest. “I’m sorry …” he offered, slowly lifting his eyes back to hers. “I knew if I told you, you’d want to go to her and … I couldn’t very well tell ya not to help her when I was helping her … but going there would’ve just been a bad idea, pet. I thought … I thought I could help from a distance and … not worry ya about it. You had enough worries at the time … you didn’t need more,” Spike tried to explain.
 
“I paid for her solicitor; paid for the repairs to the bike … that’s all … the rest I owe is … interest. I hoped she’d …” Spike shrugged despondently. “Thought maybe she’d come ‘ome when she got out of jail, but …” he shook his head sadly. “… didn’t work.”
 
“Oh, Spike,” Buffy moaned, her shoulders sagging with a mixture of sympathy and disbelief.  “You, of all people, should know you can’t buy her love. You said it yourself – she has to find it on her own, within herself. She has to let us into her heart, we can’t force ourselves in … and you were right about that.”
 
Buffy sighed heavily and rubbed tiredly at her eyes before plopping down on a pile of mats in the corner of the room.
 
Spike walked over and sat down next to her. “I’m sorry, Buffy. I swear I didn’t mean for it to go this far … I thought … thought she’d be back and I’d tell ya then, but … the longer it went, the harder it was for me to find a way to tell ya what I’d done.”
 
“Spike, how are we going to come up with fifteen thousand dollars by sunrise?” Buffy wondered, her voice filled with hopelessness.

 

Spike blew out a long, defeated breath. “There’s one other thing I haven’t told ya …”
 
Buffy looked at him sideways, her eyes narrowed with a mixture of hurt and anger.
 
“I … I been fightin’ on Saturday nights … it’s a demon league, kinda UFC style bouts … that’s where I been gettin’ the extra money; that’s why…”
 
“…Why you’ve been so beat up on Saturdays…” Buffy finished his thought, dropping her forehead into her hands tiredly.
 
“Yeah…” Spike confirmed. “I had it all planned, woulda been fine if the bloody shark hadn’t changed the soddin’ deal we had. I win t’night and I’ll have the ten we agreed on.”
 
“That’s … you know … that’s just really great, Spike. What are you, secret agent man? You have another wife and family somewhere, too? Is ‘William’ even your real name? I feel like one of those idiots on that show ‘Who the Bleep Did I Marry?’ … I feel like I don’t even know you!” Buffy spat, her despair morphing into anger and growing by leaps and bounds.
 
“Buffy … don’t…” Spike begged.
 
Buffy jumped up from her seat and began pacing back and forth across the room. “Don’t!? Don’t what? Don’t feel betrayed and lied to … ‘cos … pretty much been betrayed and lied to. Don’t be mad … ok fine – how’s angry and hurt and humiliated? Don’t ruin Christmas? Too late for that! You wanted us all to remember this Christmas forever … well, congratulations, you got your wish!

 

“You’re a piece of work! You’ve been lying to me for months! MONTHS! I stood there on Thanksgiving and threw my father out of this house and swore to him in front of all our friends that we didn’t have secrets, that you didn’t have ‘dalliances’ … but I was wrong, wasn’t I, Mr. Spike?”
 
“Buffy, I never meant to hurt you …” Spike pleaded with her, his head hung down in shame.
 
Buffy took a deep breath as tears of pain and frustration stung her eyes and she willed them not to fall. “I really thought … I thought you respected me enough to be honest with me, Spike. Did you think I wouldn’t be able to understand your logic? Do you think I’m so stupid that I couldn’t get what you were trying to do for her?”
 
“Buffy, don’t,” Spike begged, standing up next to her. “You’re not stupid … I’m the daft one.”
 
“Then why, Spike … I … I thought all this was behind us. I thought we … I thought we promised … I thought your word meant something …” Buffy beseeched him, her voice quivering with unshed tears.
 
“It does … we did. I swear … I’m so bloody sorry, pet. I just wanted to fix everything, for you, for her … I know I was wrong to not tell you … I didn’t do it to hurt you, you haveta know, I’d never...”
 
“I’m gonna get the money from Willow to pay Mr. Shark,” Buffy interrupted him, silencing him with a deadly glare when he opened his mouth to protest. Her hurt morphed again and she pushed her injured heart back and let the Slayer take over – just fix it, that’s what matters now.
 
“We can pay her back later – I’m fairly certain she won’t hunt us down like shark bait and kidnap our children if we miss a payment,” Buffy pointed out.
 
Spike pursed his lips together and nodded slightly, dropping his gaze to the floor in disgrace.
 
“Don’t lie to me again, Spike. Don’t turn into Hank Summers,” Buffy implored him, blinking back tears. “I need to be able to count on you through everything – ups and downs, good and bad. I can’t do that if I can’t trust your word…”
 
“I’m sorry… I know I’ve made a bloody mess,” he apologized again, dropping down to his knees in front of her – throwing himself at her mercy. “Buffy, I need you – I love you…”

 

“You’ve got a funny way of showing it sometimes,” Buffy whispered, her voice resigned and containing more than a hint of the betrayal and hurt she felt. She turned and strode out of the training room, slamming the door behind her and leaving him alone, still kneeling …still silently begging for her to understand and forgive him.
 
“Buffy … please… I’m so bloody sorry ... I need you …” Spike pleaded to the empty room, but he was met with only the sound of her footsteps walking away from the other side of the door.
 
**~**

{{Click here to hear “God Gave Me You” by Blake Shelton on YouTube  }}


I’ve been a walking heartache
I’ve made a mess of me
The person that I’ve been lately
Ain’t who I wanna be

But you stay here right beside me
Watch as the storm goes through
And I need you

God gave me you for the ups and downs
God gave me you for the days of doubt
For when I think I’ve lost my way
There are no words here left to say, it’s true
God gave me you

There’s more here than what we’re seeing
A divine conspiracy
That you, an angel lovely
Could somehow fall for me
You’ll always be love’s great martyr
I’ll be the flattered fool
and I need you

God gave me you for the ups and downs
God gave me you for the days of doubt
For when I think I’ve lost my way
There are no words here left to say, it’s true
God gave me you

On my own I’m only
Half of what I could be
I can’t do without you
We are stitched together
And what love has tethered
I pray we never undo

God gave me you for the ups and downs
God gave me you for the days of doubt
God gave me you for the ups and downs
God gave me you for the days of doubt
For when I think I’ve lost my way
There are no words here left to say, it’s true
God gave me you, gave me you
Gave me you
End Notes:
TBC ... now that the cat's out of the bag what will Buffy do? Will she forgive him for lying? Will she let Spike keep fighting ... two more bouts to go for half a million, or stop him? Will she beat the shit out of him and take his place in the next fight ...? Lots of possibilties ... will have the answer soon.
Love Stinks by Passion4Spike
Author's Notes:
Buffy now knows Spike’s been fighting for money and he owes Mr. Shark – what will she do about it?
**
Music Referenced:
J. Geils Band, Love Stinks http://youtu.be/E0LAs7X5ybE
 **
ScreenCaps courtesy of ScreenCap Paradise: http://www.screencap-paradise.com/?cat=3
**
Thanks to 'epd4' for betaing this chapter. Any mistakes are mine because I can't stop fiddling ...
(Same Day – moments after walking out of the training room)
Saturday, December 25th, 2010, 4:30pm, Sunnydale:

 
Certain that everyone in the whole house had heard her heated ‘discussion’ with Spike, Buffy just kept walking, out the broken garden doors and up the stairs to the street. She had to get away … she couldn’t face the humiliation of being the dutiful, trusting wife who just found out her trust had been misplaced. She never doubted Spike’s stories when he started coming home so beat up … she’d never asked questions about where he got the money, even when he started bringing home more than normal … God, how gullible was she? If he lied to her about that, what else had he lied about?
 
Everyone in the great room looked at each other sadly, not sure what to do other than continue to clean up the debris the fight with the Fyarls had wrought. Finally, Willow dropped the broom she’d been using to sweep up the glass, grabbed both her coat and Buffy’s and followed the Slayer up to the street. Looking each way, she just barely caught a glimpse of her friend before the blonde turned the corner and headed into the park just down from the mansion.
 
Willow found her friend sitting on the swing set, not really swinging so much as just swaying dejectedly. The red witch handed Buffy her jacket and the Slayer slipped it on, neither girl saying anything as Willow sat down on the swing next to her and swayed gently in the cool, late afternoon air.

 

“I hate Spike,” Buffy finally murmured, breaking the silence between them.
 
“Yeah … he can bring that out in people sometimes,” Willow agreed.
 
“How could he do that to me? How could he go behind my back like that?” Buffy asked her friend, lifting her eyes up from the soft sand under the swing to meet Willow’s.
 
Willow shrugged. “It’s really not like him. He probably thought he was protecting you or …” Willow shrugged, letting her voice trail off.
 
“I’m the Slayer – I don’t need protecting! I’m the protector … not him,” Buffy contended angrily.
 
“Oh, sure, Buffy … I know – you’re all about the protecting. I just think sometimes Spike forgets that you’re in charge and don’t need any protecting …” Willow offered.
 
“Whose side are you on?” Buffy questioned with a contemptuous whine.
 
“Oh – your side, all the way, Buffy,” Willow answered quickly. “I mean … it isn’t like you ever lied to him or did stuff behind his back ‘cos you thought it was the right thing to do and you thought he wouldn’t understand and didn’t want to argue with him about it … right?”
 
“That was a long time ago and I had good reason for what I did helping Angel!” Buffy defended. “It was to save my family – to save Annie, not to buy a fucking motor for the Harley! Plus, we were supposed to be past that! I came back from hell and told him everything! I confessed everything I did … even when I knew he wouldn’t like it!”
 
“You told him everything … voluntarily? I thought you said you hadn’t told him about his soul getting condemned to hell until…” Willow began earnestly.

 

“Shut up!” Buffy interrupted her. “That’s different … I was protecting him…”
 
“Oh, yeah, I know, ‘cos you’re the protector and he’s the ‘protectee’.  I get it … I do!” Willow agreed eagerly. “I mean, actually he probably just did it to piss you off … I mean, who doesn’t love pissing the Slayer off now and then? I know it was always on my top ten list of things to do before I die…”
 
“What kind of Spike bashing is that?” Buffy asked with a pout.
 
“Oh! Was this a ‘Spike bashing’ talk? I thought it was a ‘help me find his logic’ talk…” Willow asserted. “Sorry … uhhh … exactly – Spike’s a jerk, you should hate him. Hate him forever! How dare he go behind your back and help Bess and then have the audacity to feel bad about it, like you did when you helped Angel. It’s not like you ever helped her behind his back by magic-mailing a Thanksgiving dinner back east or anything. Big ole jerky-jerk – trying to keep you from worrying more than you already were – geez, what kind of monster is he, anyway?”

 

Buffy sighed and rolled her eyes. “Thanks, that helps tremendously.”
 
“That’s what friends are for, Buffy…”
 
The girls sat in silence for a long while, swaying and twisting gently on the swings. The park was empty save for them – everyone was home with their families, eating Christmas dinner, watching ‘Charlie Brown’ and ‘It’s a Wonderful Life’ on TV, falling asleep on the couch… everyone but them.
 
“Will, we’re gonna need to borrow some money …” Buffy ventured at last.
 
“I know … there’s only one problem – I can’t withdraw that much in one day from the ATM and no banks are open today. I could get some out … maybe take out some cash advances on our credit cards, but nowhere near fifteen thousand,” Willow explained with a seriousness that gave Buffy pause.
 
Buffy shook her head and tears welled in her eyes. If he had just told her about this, she could’ve fixed it before now – before it was too late to fix.
 
“Ok, whatever you can do, I’d appreciate,” Buffy said at last. “Maybe … I don’t know … maybe I can work out something with that shark … would it be wrong to just slay him?”
 
"Well, I guess Spike does actually owe him the money, right?" Willow asked. "I mean ... it's not like he twisted Spike's arm and made him borrow the money... and Spike knew what he was dealing with when he went there."

Buffy rolled her eyes and nodded. And she thought she hated the bill collectors that called on the phone. Mr. Shark took bill collecting to a whole other level.

"You gonna be ok?” Willow questioned, giving Buffy a sympathetic look.
 
“Yeah, I just need to sit here a little while,” Buffy assured her friend.
 
Willow nodded. "Ok, see you back at the house, then..." she offered before heading back to the mansion to get their car and go to the bank to see what cash she could come up with, leaving Buffy alone.
 
Buffy shifted on the swing and felt the envelope from that morning still in her back pocket. She sighed and pulled it out. Careful not to drop any of the money, she opened the card and re-read it.
 
Buffy shook her head and blinked her tears back, staring blindly at his heartfelt words. Earlier they’d filled her heart with even more love for her husband, now her heart felt betrayed and completely deflated, like every emotion, every shred of trust, had been drained out of it.
 
Maybe Bess had the right idea after all … find a cute guy that likes Monty Python, don’t worry about catching his name, have some fun and move on. Love truly stinks sometimes … it really, really does.
 
Buffy sighed as she kept coming back to the same line, reading it over and over … hearing his voice echo in her mind, ‘Always know that everything I do, I do for you.’  
 
“God, Spike … why? Why didn't you just tell me?” she questioned as she looked up and watched the sun sink below the tree line in the west; she knew just how it felt as the shadows grew longer and dusk started to descend on her.

 

What good were promises if they weren’t kept? He’d long ago vowed to never lie to her again, just as she’d vowed the same to him. Buffy looked down at the ruby and diamond ‘promise’ ring he’d given her after the Angel thing … she promised to never give up on him; he’d promised to never let her walk alone. Buffy had broken her promise in the ‘Wish-World’ … she’d given up, tried to get out of the lonely existence she’d been cast into. Maybe promises just weren’t that easy to keep. He’d forgiven her for breaking her promise, assured her it was simply the path she had to take to set things right.
 
Buffy sighed heavily, got up from the swing, and tucked the card back into her pocket. It was time to pull together, not pull apart. If he could forgive her for nearly leaving him in hell for all eternity, surely she could forgive him for not telling her that he’d helped their daughter … despite the fact that it had ultimately put their other children in danger.   Nothing had actually happened to them thus far … they were fine and that was obviously not a consequence Spike foresaw happening when he did it. Not that she was ‘over it’ … but now wasn’t the time to be selfish and petty; they needed to get this thing with Mr. Shark straightened out before someone actually got hurt – that’s what was important right now, getting it fixed … the rest they could work out later …
 
**~**
 
Back at the mansion, the mess had been cleaned up and Xander had put some plastic sheeting up over the gaping hole where the French doors had once stood in order to keep the cold out. Willow and Tara had gone to the ATM machine to see how much they could round up on Christmas day from their bank account and credit cards, everyone else waited in the great room for Buffy to return.
 
Faith met her halfway across the floor. “What do we need to do, B?” she questioned after having been filled in on what had happened by the others. "Are we having a fish fry?"
 
Buffy sighed. “Not sure until Willow gets back … Where’s Spike?”
 
“He … uhhh …” Faith stepped back one step and cringed slightly. “…went to work.”
 
Buffy’s hands went to her hips and she looked up at the ceiling as if she could find the last shred of patience she’d just lost floating around up near the new ceiling fan. “I’m going to fucking kill him …” she murmured low enough that only Faith could hear her – not the others who were waiting further away.
 
“Yeah, ok … that’s a plan I guess,” Faith shrugged.
 
Buffy thought of trying to contact him through the bond, but was sure, beyond any doubt, that he wouldn’t answer her or, even if he did, wouldn’t tell her where he was. Buffy took a deep breath and looked back at her sister Slayer. “Do you know of a demon UFC type fighting thing around here someplace?”
 
Faith shook her head. “No … but I know a certain snitchy ex-boss of mine that probably does… Want me to check it out?”
 
“Yeah, do you mind?” Buffy asked.
 
“Nope … maybe he’ll resist and I’ll have to pummel him. Been looking for an excuse to do that…” Faith agreed with a sinister smile before heading for the plastic-covered doors.
 
Buffy walked up to where everyone else waited, including all the children. “When Willow and Tara get back, Faith and I are gonna have to go out a while,” she began to explain, drawing moans from the younger children. “I know it’s Christmas and all …but … we have to do some stuff. You guys go ahead and eat – have fun … and, uhhh … don’t leave the mansion for any reason. When Willow gets back, I’ll have her put a protection spell around it. You all need to stay here until we get this straightened out with that shark demon.”
 
“But what about our Christmas show?” Billy whined, his face contorted into a pitiful frown.
 
Annie jabbed him in the ribs with her elbow. “We’ll do it later …” she whispered to him even as he ‘owwwed’ and rubbed his side where she’d hit him.
 
Buffy sighed. “I’m sorry, baby … but yeah, we’ll have to do it later – maybe for New Years or … I don’t know, soon, ok?” Buffy suggested, trying to sound optimistic and placate the disappointed children … well, really she knew it was more than the kids who were disappointed, everyone had grown fond of making fools of themselves in the annual ‘Crawford Street Review’ over the years – except her, she’d missed all but the first one.
 
“Is there anything we can do to help you?” Giles asked, holding Edmond on his lap.
 
Buffy shook her head. “No, just … enjoy the dinner … watch the kids for us and save me some of that chocolate lava cake.”
 
“Maybe I should go with, Buff …” Xander volunteered.
 
“Thanks, Xand, but I think it might be best with just me and Faith – I’m not really sure what we’re gonna run into and I wouldn’t want to put you in more danger than you already are,” Buffy explained.
 
“Don’t worry about anything,” Anya offered, taking hold of Xander’s hand. “We’ll stay here and hide. I think that’s a perfectly reasonable plan.”

 

“Thanks, Ahn … I knew I could count on you,” Buffy replied, actually happy that she was there to make sure Xander, and everyone else, stayed put.
 
**~**
 
Willow and Tara got back a little while later and gave Buffy $4,000 – that was all the cash they could get out of the ATM machines as withdrawals and cash advances on their credit cards.  With that money in hand … or in pocket, actually, Buffy gathered Annie, Dani, and Billy together near the research table.
 
“Don’t worry about anything,” she told them, even though she was sure it fell on deaf ears. “Faith and I are gonna go help your dad get everything straightened out – it’ll be fine. It’s just a misunderstanding, there’s nothing to worry about.”
 
“Are you mad at Papa?” Billy asked with insight beyond his years.
 
Buffy shrugged. “A little bit – but that’s not what’s important now – we’ll work that out later. Right now Faith and I haveta go give him a hand with this … misunderstanding.”
 
“Dad really lied to you?” Annie asked earnestly, having heard the others talking about the argument they’d overheard.
 
Buffy smiled slightly and brushed a strand of hair back from her daughter’s face. “He just …” Buffy paused and tried to think of what to tell them – Willow’s ‘find Spike’s logic’ talk came to mind. “…Yeah,” she finally acknowledged. “He sorta did … he was trying to keep me from worrying and he … kept some stuff from me. It’ll be alright, he didn’t mean to, he just made a mistake – ok?”
 
The children all nodded somberly and Buffy dropped kisses on their foreheads before standing back up. “Be good now – we’ll probably be back late, so don’t worry.”
 
**~**
 
Just as Buffy was getting into the minivan, Faith showed back up – Buffy figured she’d head for Willy’s and find Faith somewhere between here and there. “Get anything?” Buffy asked as Faith climbed in the passenger seat.
 
“Yeah – I got it. Down by the docks …” she began as Buffy pulled out of the driveway and headed towards the waterfront.
 
**~**
 
Buffy and Faith felt conspicuously under dressed as they watched the well-to-do patrons make their way into the fight club.
 
“I should’ve worn my pearls,” Faith muttered as the Slayers kept to the shadows and tried to find a way in.


 
“Or at least a shirt without spit-up on it…” Buffy agreed.
 
Faith had filled Buffy in on everything she’d learned from Willy … who gave the information without a struggle, much to Faith’s chagrin. Entrance to the fights was strictly limited. You had to be invited to purchase the $1,000 a head tickets – and you had to know someone and have a certain standing in the community to get that invite; in other words, you had to be loaded and know how to schmooze with the right crowd. The fight promoter, Mr. Andreev, was human, and made his money not just from the ‘cover charge’, but also by owning the betting concession in the club, as well as the well stocked, but extremely overpriced (according to Willy) bar. The fights were ‘no holds barred’, no weapons allowed, except for the demons’ natural endowments, and were often to the death – or until one could not go on, generally because they were unconscious.
 
All that information just made Buffy angrier with Spike – not only had he lied to her about the money and helping Bess, he was going out every Saturday and putting his very life on the line … or unlife … or whatever. He might’ve gone to work one night and not come home and Buffy would’ve had no idea what had happened to him or even where to look for him – he could’ve been dust-bin material, simply gone without a word or a clue.
 
“Any ideas, B?” Faith asked finally from their position down the alley from the heavily guarded door into the club.
 
“Yeah … follow my lead,” Buffy instructed as she skirted the people waiting in line to get in and left the alley for the street where most of the patrons had parked and were filing in from.
 
Faith followed Buffy until they were on the sidewalk just a few feet down from the alley where the entrance was. Buffy watched and waited until the line at the door had diminished slightly, and then locked in on her target. An older man, Buffy figured he was in his sixties, who had a buxom, long-legged woman on his arm whom Buffy guessed was nineteen or twenty. The man was paying more attention to her as she laughed and fawned over him than where he was walking, and the jacket of his tux was unbuttoned, reveling the prized tickets sticking up from the inside pocket.
 
When the target was nearly to where she and Faith were standing, Buffy pulled Faith by the arm and swung her around, putting Faith’s back to the man, then Buffy wrapped her arms around the dark Slayer and planted a deep kiss on her lips. The timing was impeccable, the man bumped into Faith’s back sending them all stumbling, Buffy let go of her ‘girlfriend’, pushing Faith into the man's young companion, and grabbed onto the man as if to keep from falling and he caught her reflexively.
 
“Oh! I’m so sorry …” Buffy apologized with her best ‘damsel in distress’ manner. “How terribly clumsy of us …”
 
“It’s quite alright, my dear,” the man assured her as he righted the small, helpless blonde who was rubbing her body against his.

 

“You’re very kind … we just got a little carried away,” Buffy apologized again before moving away, grabbing Faith’s hand and heading across the street.
 
“What the hell was that?” Faith questioned, touching a finger to her lips as Buffy pulled her down behind a parked car out of sight of the club entrance.
 
“That was a diversion … and these are our tickets,” Buffy announced in triumph, holding up the two tickets she’d pick-pocketed from the man.
 
“B! I didn’t know you had it in ya, girlfriend!” Faith exclaimed in a low voice as they waited for the unlucky pair who had lost their tickets to be turned away and leave the area.
 
“You learn a few tricks when you live hand to mouth… If you tell any of my kids about this, I’ll kill you,” Buffy threatened.
 
Faith smiled and shrugged. “We can probably work out some kind of arrangement…” she teased. “Do me a favor though, if you decide to kiss me again, give me some warning and I’ll make it good for you, too…”
 
Buffy snorted a soft laugh. “Don’t get your hopes up…”
 
“You’re cruel … stringing a girl along like that …” Faith continued to joke.
 
“Yeah, well … Slayer, remember?” Buffy countered, raising up slightly and peering through the windows of the car in time to see the unlucky, ticket-less pair heading back down the street and away from the club.
 
“Let’s go,” Buffy announced, standing up quickly and darting across the street and into the alley.
 
The bouncers gave the girl’s attire a disapproving look and checked the tickets carefully, but they were real, so they had no choice but to allow them entry.
 
Inside, the Slayers got a lay of the land – which wasn’t hard, it really wasn’t that big. A large pit surrounded by a clear Plexiglas railing was obviously where the fights took place, since there was already a fight going on. The Slayers pushed forward through the screaming crowd to take a closer look … it wasn’t Spike; it was between a Brachen demon and a Carnyss demon … the Brachen seemed to be winning.
 
They made their way back out of the crushing crowd around the pit and looked around. Set back away from the pit there were four betting windows with the names of the competitors in the scheduled bouts and their odds listed above them. Off to one side of the arena itself was an enclave that contained a large, darkened bar, which was lined with wide screen TVs that televised the fights from the pit from several different angles, just in case you didn’t want to see it up close, you could sit in there and drink and watch the action at the same time.
 
It actually was rather elegant, in a rustic sort of way, with heavy oak beams on the ceiling and dark grey-green slate on the floors and the natural red-brick of the old warehouse on the walls. In sharp contrast to those rough, natural materials, there were lots of bright chrome lights hanging down at different levels from the ceiling, lighting the arena and pit, and the betting booths looked like a miniature Fort Knox, also very high-tech with sleek, smooth lines and thick, bullet-proof glass.
 
Buffy scanned the digitalized fight card above the betting windows, which listed the scheduled bouts, their order, and the odds for each fighter. It reminded her of one of the flight boards at the airport, but instead of destinations, gates, and departure times, it summarized the evening’s ‘entertainment’. It didn’t take her long to find Spike’s name – he was in the last fight of the night against a Granok demon named Rahardi; the odds on Spike, as they’d been since his second fight, were even.
 
“So … what’s the next plan and does it involve kissing anyone?” Faith asked after they’d looked around.

 

Buffy bit her bottom lip, she honestly wasn’t sure. There were two more fights before Spike would be up. Should she go find him … talk to him, talk him out of this? But then where would they get the money to pay Mr. Shark by sunrise? Perhaps she could find Mr. Shark’s tank and talk him into an extension … although it sounded like he’d given all the extensions he was going to give. She felt sure her friends and family were safe at the mansion with Willow’s protection barrier, but they couldn’t stay there forever and she got the distinct impression the shark wasn’t in the mood for mercy or any more bargains. She wondered if she slew the loan shark if that would wipe out Spike’s debt … but honestly, that option didn’t set well with her. Despite the shark’s threats against her children, this really was a business deal gone wrong, not some evil, apocalyptic conspiracy and thus far no one had gotten hurt. Spike owed him money – Spike should pay what he owed. Now, if the shark actually came after their kids with something more than words, that would be a whole different game.
 
Buffy pulled out her cell phone and called home. Giles answered the phone. “Giles! I need some information – what does a Granok demon do … what are its weapons and how do you kill it?” she asked without preamble.
 
After a few moments Willow came on the phone, Buffy could hear her typing on her keyboard. “Oh wow …” Willow muttered into the phone and Buffy sighed.
 
“‘Oh wow’ good or ‘oh wow’ bad?” Buffy wondered.
 
“Well, I guess it depends on if you’re the Granok or not…” Willow hedged.
 
“Tell me…” Buffy insisted.

 

Willow read from the Council’s demon database that she’d been helping set up, “‘Granoks were a race of fierce warriors who reveled in the carnage and death they caused. They are extremely powerful, possessing strength greater than any Slayer or Vampire ever known. However, they were found too chaotic and unpredictable and they were transformed into incorporeal beings by the Powers, unable to interact with the physical world or cause further damage.’”
 
“Incorporeal?” Buffy questioned. “So … what’s the big? How can they fight?”
 
“Uhhhh… it says they can travel through time and jump dimensions … they can assume humanoid form in other dimensions and … if they find a breach in the dimensional folds, can transport into our dimension in that form, or they may be summoned… They cannot be killed, but only contained with a Resikhian Urn,” Willow continued reading.
 
“Can’t be killed!? What do you mean they can’t be killed?” Buffy demanded.
 
“I … I don’t know, that’s what it says…” Willow stammered.
 
“They’re alive aren’t they? Live things can be killed!” Buffy insisted.
 
“I’ll keep looking and call you back, ok?” Willow offered. “Is that what Spike’s fighting?”
 
“Yeah…”
 
“Oh, wow… bad,” Willow sighed before hanging up.
 
Buffy snapped her phone closed and looked at Faith. “I have to talk Spike out of this … we’ll just have to deal with Mr. Shark some other way. Help me look for a way down to the lower level where the fighters are… he’s gotta be there.”
 
“Why don’t you use that cute little bond thing?” Faith wondered.
 
“He’s not answering … I tried as soon as Willow said this Granok thing can’t be killed,” Buffy admitted.
 
**~**
 

Buffy and Faith soon discovered that the only way downstairs from the arena area was through the ‘Fort Knox’ betting cages … or by jumping down into the fighting pit, neither of which was a very good alternative. Faith stayed inside while Buffy went back out and, just as Spike had done the first night, found the back entrance to the building. Unfortunately, no one came along with a keycard to open the door for her … she knocked for a while and was just about to try to forcibly let herself in without a key when the door opened.
 
The Brachen demon who had been fighting earlier leaned heavily on two teenage boys, one arm over each of their shoulders, as they helped him to his car which was parked in the back alley. Buffy hugged the shadows, staying out of the shaft of light that cut the darkness like a blade as the three figures moved away, unaware of her presence. She crept along the wall silently and stuck her hand over the door jamb just before it closed and the heavy door crashed against her fingers, smashing them between the frame and the unforgiving metal of the door.
 
She stifled a cry as she pushed the door open and edged inside, holding her bruised fingers with her other hand as she looked around quickly and scanned the area with her senses for Spike. It only took her a moment to locate the locker room and Spike and she moved quickly down the corridor and slipped unseen into the room. She was somewhat surprised that it smelled almost like the locker room in high school – did all locker rooms smell like that? Did they sell special locker room scented air fresheners that mimicked stinking feet and sweaty shorts? Of course, mixed in with that smell was another smell that she recognized … demon blood.

 

“Spike?” she called quietly as she started looking down the lines of lockers.
 
When he heard her voice, Spike looked away from the TV monitor which was showing the ‘bout in progress’ in living color in the ‘lounge area’ of the locker room … was he dreaming? Then he heard it again. Bloody hell…  
 
He jumped up and strode quickly to the end of the row of lockers, meeting her just before she got to the row he and his opponent were in as they watched the fight before theirs and waited their turn.
 
“What the bloody hell, Slayer!? You can’t be here!” he informed her in a low whisper, grabbing her by the arm and escorting her back towards the door.
 
“I need to talk to you…” she insisted, trying to pull out of his grasp.
 
“Later!” he persisted, looking around warily. If Mr. Andreev, or any of the other fighters, caught her here, Spike’d be disqualified for sure. Once you were here, once the roster was set, there was to be no contact with outsiders … no opportunity to research your opponent, the point of the fights was you against them – the knowledge you brought in through those doors was all you had, you couldn’t augment it once you were here.
 
“No! Now!” she argued, pulling free and turning to face him, blocking his path to the door of the locker room.
 
“Buffy! If I get caught with you in here I’ll be canned! We’ll talk later!” he insisted again.
 
“I don’t care – you need to come home now – stop this madness!” Buffy demanded.

 

“Noooo, I don’t. I started this – I’m finishin’ it!” Spike informed her.
 
“Spike, the Granok you’re fighting…” she began and he clamped a hand over her mouth.
 
“Stop! Go home, Slayer. I’ll be there later. If they see you here, I’m done … Please trust me – don’t take this away from me, not now, not when I’m so bloody close,” he half-begged, half-demanded of her, his eyes shining with determination.
 
Buffy pulled his hand away from her lips. “At least open the bond…” she whispered to him as she let him turn her and guide her out of the locker room.
 
“No. Go home. I’m beggin’ ya … let me handle it – let me do what I set out t’ do,” Spike persisted.
 
“Spike, please don’t … not like this,” she begged him, but the tenacity in his eyes, the confidence in his voice, and the determination in the set of his jaw was chipping away at her resolve to just get him out of here. Surely they could figure out some other way to pay the loan shark … but right this moment, she didn’t know how.
 
Just as they got to the end of the corridor near the back door, it swung open and the two clean-up boys stepped back in from the alley.

 

“…And stay out!” Spike shouted at her suddenly, pushing her forward and away from him. “Don’t need no soddin’ groupies skulking ‘round in here!
 
“And you two!” he continued, turning to Raj and Binh as Buffy stumbled out the door and into the alley. “What the bloody hell you doing leaving the soddin’ door open so any bint with a hankerin’ for violence can just stroll in here?”
 
Raj looked between Buffy, who was now out in the alley, and Spike and shook his head. “No leave door … door close! Raj open!” he insisted, holding up one of the key cards.
 
“Well, someone let her in and if I find out who, I’ll bloody well have their heads on a platter!” Spike continued to rant as he turned quickly and started back down the corridor towards the locker room.
 
Buffy’s stomach lurched and she took a tentative step forward towards the still open door and the stunned clean-up boys standing in it that Spike had just berated. She could still stop this … just go in there and drag Spike out, or announce her presence to the world and get him ‘canned’. If the loan shark would just wait a few extra hours, she was sure Willow and Tara could have all the money Spike owed him … Spike didn’t need to do this. Just as Buffy made the decision and reached her hand out to catch the door and come back inside, it slammed shut and she heard a heavy electronic bolt slide, locking it securely.
 
Buffy sighed heavily, then vented her frustration by punching the door with all her strength, momentarily forgetting about her already bruised digits, and she cried out in pain when her fist connected with the unmovable steel. “God damn, mother fucking, son of a bitch!” she screamed as she held her hand against her thigh, bent over in pain.
 
Buffy finally stood up straight and shook her hand, then rubbed her knuckles with her other hand as she started pacing back and forth in front of the locked entry. She tried again to reach Spike through the bond, but all she got was a big nothing for her efforts.
 
“God damn stubborn idiot vampire,” Buffy muttered to herself. “He’s gonna get himself dusted and he doesn’t even care! If he doesn’t care, why should I care? I should let him get beat all to hell, get his head ripped off and his dusty ass dumped out in the alley like yesterday’s cat litter.

 

“I wonder if it’s too late to take out life insurance on him? Oh! Idea! That’s what I should do – take out life insurance … one of those on TV that you only need to answer three questions to get … then, knock him out, call 9-1-1, and have them pronounce him dead – embalm him and bury him and collect my money. I wonder if embalming hurts if you’re actually undead instead of dead-dead? I hope so…” Buffy ranted as she continued to pace angrily in the alley, so caught up in her tantrum she didn’t even notice the door open again until she was bathed in the harsh light from the corridor.
 
It was one of the clean-up boys that had been there earlier. She turned and started towards him, but he held up a hand, his eyes wide with worry … or fear, and she stopped reflexively. “Kiwi Spike say you no worry him. He no worry. He know Granok – chop head, get money. You go home,” Raj related quickly before pulling the door closed again.
 
“What? Wait!” Buffy insisted even as the loud slamming sound from the door echoed down the alleyway behind her.

Spike! God damn it! Answer me! she tried again through the bond, but got nothing.
 
“God damn stubborn idiot vampire…” she muttered again. “‘He no worry’ … yeah, he’s not the one that’ll have to raise four kids all by himself! I’d like to see ‘he no worry’ if it was me in there … he’d worry heaps … he’d have to sew Billy’s next costume … and give him ‘the talk’ and give Dani and ‘Kenzie the talk too… that’d worry him plenty … good and plenty, in fact, it’d worry him a whole candy aisle full of Good n’ Plenty…”

 

Buffy kicked the door in frustration before turning on her heel and heading back to the main entrance, muttering angrily the whole way about ‘he no worry.’
 
**~**
 
Back in the club, Buffy found Faith again and told her what happened, then called Willow to find out if she’d found anything out about chopping a Granok’s head off, but she hadn’t. She wasn’t sure how Spike thought he was gonna chop its head off with no weapons, anyway. ‘He no worry…’ my ass.
 
Buffy looked up at the digital fight card above the betting windows again … they still had even money on Spike … The Granok, however, was the odds-on favorite, at four to seven.
 
“How can they have even money on Spike if he’s fighting against something that can’t be killed?” Buffy asked Faith as she eyed the board.
 
Faith shrugged and said in a voice loud enough for people standing in the betting line to hear her, “I don’t know – I hear that vamp, Spike, got in a heck of a fight just this morning with Mr. Shark’s thugs… I doubt he’ll be able to do much more than be a punching bag for that Granok...”
 
Buffy looked at her strangely for a minute until she noticed all the people standing near them whip out their cell phones and start making calls … confirming that Mr. Shark had, in fact, made a visit to the crowd-favorite’s home earlier that day. Faith pulled Buffy away from the windows and into the bar, where she repeated the same story several times, each time drawing worried looks and panicked phone calls from the patrons nearby.

 

As the warning bell sounded, indicating ten minutes left to put in a bet on the last fight of the night, Spike’s odds were down to ten to one and the Granok had risen to three to ten on the rumor that the blond vamp was less than one hundred percent.
 
Buffy stood in the betting line, shifting nervously back and forth from one foot to the other as she fingered the cash in her pocket that Willow had given her … $4,000. She swallowed hard as butterflies buzzed like killer bees in her stomach; if she bet on Spike and he won, she’d get lots more than if she bet on the Granok and Spike lost. But, if she bet on Spike and he lost, she’d have nothing … zero. It would be akin to taking the money and tossing it in the fireplace and just watching it burn… And if Spike was not only defeated but dusted? She didn’t even want to think about that.
 
Buffy took a deep breath as she reached the betting window and pulled the cash out of her pocket … then remembered the money in the Christmas card Spike had given her for the attorney – another $400 … she pulled that out too and slid it all through the small slot in the thick, bulletproof glass. She had to decide who to bet on – like now. Love stinks.

**~**

{{Click here to hear “Love Stinks” by J. Geils Band on YouTube  }}

 
You love her
but she loves him
And he loves somebody else
you just can't win
And so it goes
till the day you die
This thing they call love
it's gonna make you cry
I've had the blues
the reds and the pinks
One thing's for sure
(Love stinks)

(chorus)
Love stinks yeah yeah
(Love stinks)
Love stinks yeah yeah
(Love stinks)
Love tinks yeah yeah
(Love stinks)
Love stinks yeah yeah

Two by two
and side by side
Love's gonna find you
yes it is
you just can't hide
You'll hear it call
your heart will fall
Then love will fly
it's gonna soar
I don't care for
any Casanova thing
All I can say is
(Love stinks)

(chorus)

I've been through diamonds
I've been through minks
I've been through it all
(Love stinks)
End Notes:
TBC ... So, who does Buffy bet on? We'll find out and find out how Spike does against a demon that 'can't be killed' ... 'he no worry' ...That's never good... Does anyone remember this type of demon ... no cheating! Hint: AtS. Didn't Willow do a good job with the talk she had with Buffy? I love Scoobies coming to Spike's defense, don't you? Thanks to everyone who leaves reviews! I love them so much - like chocolate for my soul! And - hey, if you're signed in, you don't have to fiddle with that annoying security code anymore. I don't know about you, but that thing just about drove me batty!

And, I can't remember if I said this before, but also thank you to everyone who voted in the SunnyD awards- I was BLOWN AWAY by the awards this UNI won ... BLOWN AWAY! Thanks sooooo much!
Crazy Girl by Passion4Spike
Author's Notes:
Spike fights in the semifinals of the demon ‘no holds barred’ championship. Will having Buffy near help or hurt his chances of winning?
**
Music Referenced:
Crazy Girl, Eli Young Band, http://youtu.be/J3HwFtdVTfM
 **
ScreenCaps courtesy of ScreenCap Paradise: http://www.screencap-paradise.com/?cat=3
**
Thanks to 'epd4' for betaing this chapter. Any mistakes are mine because I can't stop fiddling ...
(Same night …at the Fight Club)
Sunday, December 26th, 2010, 12:45am, Sunnydale:


 

Buffy watched through her fingers as the Granok tossed Spike across the wide pit like the vamp weighed nothing. Her husband crashed into the hard wall on the other side with a thud and sank down to the floor. The so-called un-killable demon wasn’t that big really … but he was extraordinarily strong and difficult to hurt. Spike’s fangs had had a slight impact on the humanoid demon whose face was marred with battle scars and tribal markings, along with oddly twisted wrinkles that gave no indication of age. He could bleed; if he could bleed, he could be killed, Buffy was sure, but first Spike had to find a way to keep his fangs in contact with the demon for more than a few seconds.
 
They’d been fighting almost thirty minutes already, and the Granok wasn’t unscathed, but Spike was … more scathed by far. He knew she was there.  When he first came out into the ‘ring’, he scanned the crowd as he always did before a fight and their eyes had met. He held her gaze during the entire introduction, only pulling them away from her when the announcer commanded the battle to commence. With their eyes locked across the expanse of the ring, Buffy again tried to contact him through the bond, but got nothing … she was starting to think there may be a magical barrier in place to prevent communication with the fighters from outside the pit.
 
Faith stayed close to Buffy, often keeping a hand wrapped tightly around the back of her sister Slayer’s belt, just to make sure she didn’t jump into the fight to help Spike, which would undoubtedly disqualify him. All the money was riding on Spike winning, Buffy had put it all on him – but he had to do it – alone.
 
Buffy slid her hands down from in front of her eyes and covered her mouth as she watched Spike struggle to get back to his feet. Her stomach churned and her heart raced seeing him so beaten and bloodied.  Blood ran from his head, down his temple and dripped in rivers to the floor of the pit, his hands and knuckles were all broken and bloodied and, when he was on his feet, he had a discernible limp from a hard kick he’d taken to the back of his knee earlier. Suddenly Buffy just wished he would stay down … she couldn’t take seeing him hurt anymore … and what if this demon was strong enough to wrench Spike’s head from his shoulders … what difference would that money make without him here?

 

Buffy pushed along the railing, through the throng of screaming onlookers to get nearer to where Spike was with Faith right on her heels. The Granok was moving forward slowly, taking his time now as he closed in for the kill. Everyone was screaming for Spike to get up … even though most of them had ended up betting on the Granok, that really wasn’t the important thing – the important thing was the fight … and they were sure the blond vamp had more fight in him – they’d seen it before.
 
Buffy leaned over the railing right above Spike as he continued to try to shake the stars from in front of his eyes and clear the cobwebs from his brain.
 
“Stay down!” she shouted, the lone voice in the crowd with that message for him. “Spike! Just stay down!”
 
Spike pushed up halfway and his boot slipped in the pool of blood that had formed under him and he fell back down onto his ass, his back against the rocky wall of the unforgiving pit. Then he heard her above the din of the crowd, like an angel calling down from above … stay down… just stay down.

 

He tilted his head back and looked up above him … there she was, his angel. Her green eyes shone with worry and fear and it did his heart good to see it. Not that he wanted her to worry or be afraid, but it meant she still loved him … she’d forgive him for his deceptions … and she’d forgive him for not staying down.
 
Even as the Granok reached him, Spike could hear her shouting, pleading, begging him to stay down, to give up … but she knew better, or she should’ve. The only person he’d ever run away from in a fight had been her … he didn’t back down, he didn’t give up – he didn’t quit. He won. That’s just what he did.
 
Spike relaxed his body and closed his eyes as if unconscious as the Granok reached down and started to pick him back up by his shoulders. As soon as the long-haired demon bent forward, Spike struck – grabbing a handful of that long hair in one hand and clamping his other hand around the demon’s throat. Spike pulled back violently on the Granok’s hair, causing the demon to screech in pain, but the vocalization was short-lived as Spike cutoff the demon’s airway. Spike squeezed his hand tightly around the Granok’s neck, using all this remaining strength and he felt bones crack and splinter under his assault.

 

Momentarily taken off guard, the stronger demon lost his advantage and now struggled to get free from Spike’s grasp. He swung out at Spike’s midsection, landing punishing blows which cracked ribs and raised bruises on his bare torso before the Granok had even pulled his fists away to swing again. Spike struggled to hold on to his opponent, keep the pressure on – mustering the will from every fiber of his being to weather the storm.
 
Finally, in desperation, the Granok pulled away from Spike, launching himself backwards with his powerful legs. A large wad of hair was pulled from the demon’s skull as he wrenched free of the vampire’s grasp and blood flowed from his scalp and matted the remaining hair beneath it. If the demon had any breath, he would’ve screamed out in pain, but as it was he was only happy to be able to inhale once again, although only a fraction of the oxygen he needed could pass through his crushed windpipe.
 
The Granok fell onto his back when he lunged away from Spike, but quickly turned over and began to scramble back to his feet. Despite his frantic efforts, he only made it to his hands and knees as he wheezed and choked and tried to find some way to fill his lungs with air, before Spike was atop him. The demon was again taken by surprise at the speed of the vamp whom only seconds before seemed ready for the dust-bin. Spike straddled the Granok’s back as the demon tried to stand up fully and he pushed his oxygen-deprived opponent back down to his hands and knees. Spike laced his arms around his stronger demon’s neck and head, again mustering every ounce of energy he had left, and twisted and pulled backwards at the same time in a violent tour de force.

 

The Granok’s head twisted completely around and the grotesque sound of breaking bones and tearing flesh filled the pit and assailed the spectators senses. For a moment Spike thought that wasn’t going to be enough as the Granok seemed to sneer up at him. He might've heard a rumor from a little Vietnamese birdie (whom he'd gotten in good favor with over the last weeks) who had witnessed a Granok's defeat before, that they could be killed by chopping their heads off. He figured ripping it off should work ... he'd hoped just wrenching it around backwards would be enough. Spike repositioned his hands to turn the demon's head in a complete circle and try to actually rip it from his shoulders, but just then the ‘Linda Blaired’ demon collapsed under Spike’s weight and took his last gurgling breath before going completely still.
 
There was a unified, audible gasp from the entire crowd of onlookers when the Granok’s head turned around completely backwards on his shoulders. Everyone in the entire arena seemed to hold their breath for several seconds afterwards as a wave of utter shock rolled over them. Where one moment there had been raucous pandemonium, there was now a dead stillness that seemed to stretch out forever. The only sound breaking the deafening blanket of silence was the last gasp of life from the demon as he fell to the floor under Spike’s weight.
 
The crowd stood dumbfounded for several moments, which seemed to last an eternity, as Spike collapsed down onto his side next to the prone body of his adversary, overcome by utter exhaustion.

 

“Spike!” Buffy screamed out in utter relief just a millisecond before the entire audience burst into screams of cheers, whistles, and applause even louder than when the combatants were actively battling. Despite their monetary losses, Spike was still the sentimental crowd favorite and this win meant he’d be back to fight another day.
 
Buffy braced her hands on the top of the clear railing and sprang her feet up to the side to hurdle the barrier and drop down into the pit to help her husband, but as soon as her feet crossed inside the pit, she was flung backwards. Faith helped her back to her feet and they both reached their hands out into the nothingness above the pit and were met with solid resistance. Buffy could do nothing but watch as the clean-up boy, who had earlier delivered Spike’s message of ‘he no worry’, helped Spike back to his feet and the announcer proclaimed the underdog the winner.
 
Spike looked up and met her eyes across the expanse of the battleground. Buffy’s hands covered her mouth and worry creased her features as even more bruises seemed to bloom on Spike’s bare torso and face. He had to lean on Raj, unable to put any weight on his right leg now, his knee unable to stand any pressure at all. Through all that, he gave her a small smile that silently said … ‘I told you I could do it…for you.’
 
Tears welled in Buffy’s eyes and she nodded slowly, then Raj was guiding the injured warrior from the ring of battle and the fight announcer was reminding everyone that the final battle of this championship tournament would be the following week on night of New Year’s Day between the vampire, Spike, and a Pele Haleakala demon named Aukanai'i. Several undercards would precede the Championship, the winner of which would take home half a million dollars. It was winner-take-all – the loser, if he lived, got nothing.
 
Buffy was only half listening as she started for the door, hopeful that someone would open the back door for her now that the fights were over. Faith caught her arm and stopped her. “Whoa, B! Did you forget something?”
 
“No … what?”
 
Faith raised her brows and tilted her head towards Buffy’s front pocket of her jeans. “Betting ticket…”
 
“Oh, God …” Buffy moaned, rolling her eyes. How could she forget that? Maybe it was the vision of Spike beaten and battered that clouded her mind…
 
“Here,” Buffy pulled the ticket out and pressed it into Faith’s hand. “You take care of it. Meet you out back in the alley behind the building.”

 

“You sure?” Faith questioned, looking at the ticket.
 
Buffy shrugged. “I’m sure…”
 
**~**

Buffy paced back and forth in front of the heavy metal door stewing in frustration; despite knocking, pounding, kicking, and screaming at it, no one had opened it for her and the heavy metal electronic slide bolts made it otherwise ‘un-openable’.
 
Faith showed up with the cash winnings in a vinyl, zippered bank money bag and handed it to Buffy.
 
 

Buffy didn’t open it or look inside; she knew what was supposed to be in there would be; she trusted Faith. She tucked it into her waistband at the small of her back in the spot she normally kept her stake and the two Slayers waited in silence for Spike to emerge from the fight club.
 
When the door finally swung open, Spike was still leaning on the small clean-up boy trying to not put any weight on his knee. He was dressed now, still in the jeans he’d fought in, but now with his t-shirt and duster and shoes back on, as well. He wasn’t surprised to see Buffy waiting outside the door and guided Raj towards her as she moved forward. Spike held his free arm out – open, ready to pull her into a hug, but, instead of falling into his embrace, Buffy clocked him on the jaw with a stiff right jab.

 

“Owwww! Bloody hell! What was that for!?” Spike exclaimed as he stumbled backwards, jumping on one leg. Raj struggled to keep him upright as the heavy door swung closed behind them, casting the alley back into darkness.
 
“That was for scaring the shit out of me! And this …” she informed him as she moved forward again and slammed her other fist against the other side of his face. “Is for lying to me!”
 
Raj couldn’t hold him any longer and Spike fell onto his back on the pavement of the alley, howling in pain, unable to decide what hurt worse, her words or her fists.



"Do you have any idea how incredibly stupid that was?!" she demanded, standing over him as he shook the fog from his brain and tried to focus.

"Borrowing money from a loan shark!? Really, Spike? You know Willow would've loaned us the money! All we had to do was ask! You goddamn arrogant son-of-a-bitch! You can't take help from our friends but can put our whole family in danger? What the hell were you thinking?

"And then this! This is your solution? Fighting other demons to the death? You could've dusted and I wouldn't have known anything! Just 'poof' gone! You could've left us all alone! Damn it, Spike! I hate you! I absolutely hate you!"

Then Buffy was on top of him, holding his face between her palms and kissing him frantically as all the emotions of the last few hours overwhelmed her with everything from anger to fear to hurt to determined fortitude and back again to fear. Spike wrapped his arms around her and returned the kiss through the pain … her kiss always seemed to make everything feel better somehow.
 
Finally she pulled back, breathless, her chest heaving with all those emotions that had been battling within her since that afternoon, and looked down at him. “Don’t ever do that again,” she commanded, her voice resolute but still with a tinge of fear and hurt mixed in.
 
Spike nodded. “I’m so bloody sorry… I love you so much, pet.”
 
“I love you too…you stupid vampire,” Buffy assured him, dropping her forehead down onto his lightly and closing her eyes as he ran his hands up and down her arms.
 
“I say Kiwi Spike no worry … you no worry!” Raj informed her indignantly. “You crazy girl! Muchacha loca!” he exclaimed, using words he’d learned from some of the Spanish demons over the years.
 
“Si,” Spike agreed. “Esa muchacha loca … gotta love m’ crazy girl, though.”
 
“I hate to interrupt this crazy love fest, but I think we have a shark to filet …” Faith pointed out.
 
Spike closed his eyes and groaned painfully as one hand went to his bruised eyes. He moved his hand and looked up at Buffy. “I don’t ‘ave what he says he wants now… only got twelve. Bloody wanker changed the deal on me… woulda had enough to pay ‘im his ten …”
 
Buffy stood up and then helped Spike back to his feet … or foot, to be more exact, as he kept the pressure off his right knee. “You no worry,” she mimicked Raj’s accent and broken English. “Buffy no worry – you no worry.”
 
Spike looked at her with confusion and Buffy rolled her eyes. “I might’ve placed a small wager … against my better judgment … on the ten to one underdog.”
 
Spike’s confusion deepened. “Ten t’ one? I only got even odds on my bloody bet! When did it change t’ ten to one?”

 

Buffy shrugged innocently. “After some rumors started flying that you’d already been in one fight against some Fyral demons this morning … or yesterday morning … whatever morning that was. Not sure where that rumor might’ve come from.”
 
“Bloody hell … I could’a had fifty fucking thousand bloody dollars…” Spike moaned, suddenly feeling weak in his one good knee. He’d placed his bet earlier in the night – they’d never changed his odds before – never.
 
Buffy felt the blood drain out of her face. “Fifty …. As in five-zero? How much did you bet?”
 
“Five…”
 
“Five … but … but … Five plus ten is fifteen … not fifty!” Buffy stammered.
 
Spike narrowed his eyes at her. “Not done a lot a gamblin’ in your life, I’d wager …” Spike offered. “Ten to one means you get ten times what you bet. I know math ain’t your strong suit, Slayer … but even you know the difference between multiplication and addition. You get your original stake back, plus ten times that much…”
 
Now Buffy’s knees felt weak and she reached behind her back and pulled out the vinyl money bag, finally opening it and pulling the cash out. All the air went out of her lungs as she retrieved four plastic wrapped bundles of hundred dollar bills from the bag … the paper sticker on them read $10,000 … each. And there was more in addition to that … another $8,400 in ‘loose change’.

 

 “Oh my God…” she muttered, her wide, unbelieving eyes moving away from the pretty green paper and up to meet Spike’s.
 
“Oh my God,” she muttered again as it sank in. “We’re rich! We’re rich! Spike! We’re rich!” she screamed as she lunged at him, flinging her arms around his neck and jumping up and down at the same time, the bundles of money still in her hands. It was all Raj and Spike together could do to keep him from falling down again.
 
“And – since this place doesn’t officially exist … it’s tax free,” Faith pointed out. “The house doesn’t even take a fee, which is sweet.”
 
Spike had to laugh despite the pain as she forced him to put weight on his bad knee lest he tumble over again. There was the crazy girl inside the woman. It had been a while since she’d surfaced; too much worry, too many bills and responsibilities weighing her down – he loved seeing that unbridled joy and excitement bubble to the surface again. Who said money couldn’t buy happiness? At this moment, Spike would’ve argued that contention, because there was a giddy Slayer joyously bouncing up and down in front of him that said otherwise.
 
Finally, Buffy released him and stepped back, still holding the cash in her hands. “We have enough to pay the shark … and pay Willow and Tara back and pay off almost all the credit cards!
 
“Oh my God! Why didn’t you tell me about this before!?” she demanded, slapping him lightly in the chest with a bundle of the money. “This is amazing! And so easy!”


 
“‘Cos you would’a said it’s too dangerous … that I could get hurt … you woulda’ shut me down, pet,” Spike offered in his defense. “And ‘easy’ depends on who’s in the bloody pit…” Spike pointed out, wincing slightly as he leaned back against Raj for support.
 
Buffy pouted as she looked at the money, then back up at him. “Yeah … it is too dangerous and you did get hurt and this was your last fight,” she informed him flatly.
 
“Oh no, Slayer – you just said…”
 
“I know what I said – and you’re right – I’m shutting you down.”


 
“Buffy – no. I’m too close … half a million! One more fight and we will be rich, really rich – rich enough to be out from under everything and have plenty left over; rich enough to fund your Scrunchie business if ya want … Rich enough I can tell Tiburon to get stuffed…” Spike argued.
 
“Spike … what good is all that if you’re maimed or worse …” Buffy pointed out. “What if they send you back to me with your head turned backwards or in a little shoe box? Who would give Billy ‘the talk’?”
 
“Buffy – I don’t ask for much … I don’t need much, but I need my dignity. I know I was wrong to lie to ya … and you have no idea how bloody sorry I am ‘bout that, but … I’m fightin’ next week,” Spike stated adamantly, his eyes boring into hers with passionate determination shining in them, illuminated by the dim glow of a distant street light.
 
Buffy stood silently in front of him for what seemed hours, still clutching the bundles of money in her hands as her mind raced and argued with itself in what seemed an unending and unwinnable argument – from either side.
 
Finally, she sighed heavily and took a step closer to him. “Next time, if I say ‘stay down’ then you stay down…”
 
“Don’t underestimate me, Slayer…”

 

Buffy shook her head. “I won’t … but if you get dusted, I’ll kill you.”
 
Spike pursed his lips and tilted his head to the side slightly as he studied her. “Deal.”
 
**~**
 
Faith took the Blue Bomber home while Buffy drove the DeSoto since Spike’s right knee was too painful to even drive. They took Raj home, Spike had given him his normal $50 tip earlier (silently vowing to reward the boy handsomely once he won the big prize), and then headed to Mr. Shark’s place. On Spike’s advice, Buffy left most of her winnings in the hiding place under the back seat, keeping only the $15,000 that Mr. Shark had demanded on her when they went inside his lair. Not that Spike didn’t trust the shark, but … it was better to be safe than sorry.
 
Spike leaned on her heavily as they slogged into the cave near the ocean that the shark used for his headquarters. Half the time, the entrance was completely under water … luckily, tonight, right now, wasn’t one of those times. The rough and muddy exterior of the cave belied the posh interior; there was a large, natural pool of clear ocean water that was lit from below with multicolored lights, beyond that was a wide, grand staircase carved into the stone wall of the cave that curved around the back side of the pool and lead up to drier conditions, which apparently stayed dry even at the highest of tides, where the loan shark’s office actually was.
 
Buffy finally just carried Spike piggyback up the stairs … there was no way his knee would’ve made it otherwise. At the top of the staircase was a wall made up entirely of a large saltwater aquarium with colorful coral growing in it and tropical fish swimming happily in its clear depths. Buffy set her injured passenger down lightly thinking that Sea World would be envious of that display and wishing Billy could see it … for some reason she thought he’d like it. Bess would like it too – she’d want to go swimming in it, probably.


  
"This way, pet…” Spike directed, waving an arm to the right.
 
Buffy helped Spike to the last office in a long line of offices and knocked on the closed door.
 
“Come in, Mr. Spike,” called the debonair loan shark from the other side of the door.
 
“How did he know?” Buffy asked quietly … were sharks telepathic or something?
 
“Surveillance …” Spike whispered back, pointing up to tiny camera lenses that lined the hallway … so small you wouldn’t notice them or know what they were if you …well, didn’t know what they were.
 
Buffy rolled her eyes and opened the door, helping Spike in. Mr. Shark stood up and greeted them amiably, as if he hadn’t just a few hours ago, threatened to take one of their children for demon sacrifices…
 
“How wonderful of you to stop in, Mrs. Spike,” he began, waving a fin at a chair near his desk. “Do sit down, won’t you?”

 

“Thanks but … we can’t stay,” Buffy began as her eyes scanned the room. Three walls were lined with more aquariums which were filled with more colorful fish: orange and white striped clown fish, angel fish of every color and description from blue stripes to yellow stripes and everything in between … there was even a bright orange one with black stripes, plus other fish in colors she had no idea existed outside the color wheel in the paint department at Home Depot. She felt like she’d been transported into a ‘Finding Nemo’ set … you know, if ‘Finding Nemo’ wasn’t a cartoo … uhhh … animation.
 
She must’ve stared just a little too long. “Do you like them?” Mr. Shark asked, moving over to one of the large tanks and pushing a button to drop a ration of food into the tank.
 
The fish darted up at the flakes in bright flashes of color – it looked like a rainbow had exploded underwater as they streaked and careened towards the surface and back down again, devouring the rations.

“Yes … they’re really … pretty. Billy would love them…” Buffy admitted as she left Spike and took a step forward.
 
“Then you should bring the boy by one day, Mr. Spike …” the loan shark offered.
 
“Oh … uhhhh … thanks, but…” Buffy began, turning wide eyes to Spike.
 
“Lad’s allergic t’ salt…” Spike declined.

"Oh, that's a terrible shame," the loan shark lamented as he pressed a fin against a hidden door next to the tank which revealed a small, but well-stocked, wet bar tucked away in the wall. "Drink?" he offered, waving a hand at the bar and looking expectantly at Spike.




"Ta ever so, not much in the mood at the mo," Spike replied, dropping the fifteen thousand on the shark’s desk. “Here’s your money … but I still say I only owe ya ten. You bloody well said ‘Christmas’ … Nochebuena. Plus, that armoire your boys busted up was Louis the fourteenth … antique it was, a family heirloom ... old growth mahogany with hand inlaid rosewood … at least four grand right there smashed into bloody kindling.”
 
The shark moved back over to his desk and Buffy stepped back next to Spike. She hoped they weren’t going to have to make a run for it or fight their way out of here if Spike pissed the shark off again. She wasn’t sure how fast she could run carrying Spike down all those steps or how many Fyarl demons they might meet along the way.
 
Mr. Shark picked up the stack of hundreds off the desk and fanned them quickly, as if he could tell if they were short by simply the feel of them flipping through his fins.
 
“I can see how you might’ve … misunderstood,” the loan shark began thoughtfully, looking down at the money in his fin. “I can assure you that Nochebuena, however, is what you call ‘Christmas Eve’.”
 
“Then ya shoulda bloody well said that. This isn’t soddin’ Mexico … should speak the Queen's English … or … well, bloody American, at any rate,” Spike argued.
 
Buffy shot Spike a look, was he trying to get them killed? Mr. Shark only grunted noncommittally as he continued studying the bills in his fin.
 
After a few moments, the shark looked up at the blondes. “I like you Mr. Spike … in fact, I like both of you – got guts … that’s hard to find these days, strong constitutions. I’m not an unreasonable man … I’ll tell you what, I’ll split the difference with you – and pay for half of the armoire … that sound fair?”

 

Spike shrugged. “Still say…” Buffy elbowed him in the ribs and Spike flinched.
 
“That will be fine… that’s fair,” Buffy agreed. “This means you won’t be coming after our kids, right?”
 
The shark waved a fin at her dismissively and laughed. “Oh, I didn’t really want the small humans … I haven’t dealt in that trade in many, many years. Too much overhead … and with the shrieking and tears … worse than kittens, really. No, I’m strictly a ‘cash on the barrelhead’ shark now,” he assured her.
 
“You blighter!” Spike began angrily before Buffy found his ribs again with her elbow. “Bloody hell, Slayer – you got Tourette’s of the elbow now?”
 
“Shut up, Spike … remember your bad knee,” she reminded him, looking at him with wide eyes and imploring him to not piss off the shark again.

 

“And my bloody bruised ribs…" Spike moaned back at her.

"I heard you killed a whole family o' Tranjck demons ..." Spike pressed, looking back at the loan shark.

The shark nodded thoughtfully. "Indeed I did ... or ... well, I contracted it done. They were eating me out of house and home ... literally. Tranjck demons, you see ... are like termites, for stone - cost me a small fortune to reinforce all the walls they weakened in here..."

Spike rolled his eyes and sighed. He'd been duped ... the damn shark had never intended to do anything other than frighten him into paying up. It had worked.

Mr. Shark gave Spike back $4,500 of the $15,000 and Spike stuffed it down in the pocket of his duster.
 
“It’s always a pleasure doing business with you, Mr. Spike… perhaps you or your lovely wife would like job – I seem to have a couple of openings for collection agents that just opened up,” the shark offered.
 
“Thanks, we’re a little busy right now, but we’ll keep the offer in mind,” Buffy assured him with a fake smile as she turned Spike around and started for the door.
 
“Have a happy new year!” the shark called after them cheerfully.
 
“You too…” Buffy responded a little too brightly as she closed the office door behind them.
 
“Four thousand dollars? Louis the fourteenth? Family heirloom?” Buffy asked in a whisper as they started down the hallway. “I paid twenty-five dollars for that armoire at a yard sale last summer…”


 
Spike shrugged. “Got mosta my bloody money back that I didn’t bloody owe him in the first bloody place, didn' it?”
 
Buffy rolled her eyes. “Do you think you could’ve gotten any more ‘bloodies’ in that sentence?”
 
Spike snorted, leaning on her heavily as they made their way back to the stairs. “I’m a trained professional … don’t try that at ‘ome.”
 
**~**
 
Back at the mansion, Faith had already told everyone (except the kids, who were in bed) what happened at the fight club and about Buffy winning the money and everyone congratulated them excitedly when they came in.
 
Buffy helped Spike sit down at the research table and she pulled the rest of the cash out of the bank bag. She counted out forty-five hundred, five hundred more than she owed, and gave back to Willow, thanking her profusely for all the trouble she went through to get it. Willow and Tara, of course, refused the extra, saying it wasn’t any big deal and gave the extra five hundred back to Buffy.
 
“So, after paying Mr. Shark … and Spike claiming our furniture was Louis the Fourteenth …” Buffy began after getting the remaining money counted, including what she won and what Spike had won and gotten paid for his bout. “We have $49,900!!! Can you believe that!? In one night we made enough to pay off almost all of our credit cards!”
 
“And, if Spike wins next week, you’ll have it made in the shade, girlfriend!” Faith added with a smile. “Could get you a pool boy with all that dough…”

 

“We don’t have a pool …” Buffy pointed out with furrowed brow, missing Faith’s teasing grin.
 
“You could get a pool and a pool boy…” Faith amended. “Maybe a cabana boy, too…”
 
“Ain’t no one getting no bloody pool boys or cabana boys or any other kinda boys ‘round ‘ere …” Spike objected. “Got enough problems with the bloody bag boys at the grocery makin’ goo-goo eyes at ya, Slayer.”
 
Buffy repressed a smile – she didn’t know Spike had noticed that …
 
“Actually – you can’t use that money to pay off your bills,” Anya informed them flatly.
 
“What? Why not?” Buffy asked with concern creasing her features.
 
“You haven’t paid any taxes on it … if you suddenly come up with lots and lots of money out of nowhere and start paying off bills and building pools and hiring pool boys, Uncle Sam’s gonna take notice. They'll think you’re a drug dealer, put you under surveillance, knock your front door down and raid your house - guns ablazin' - there're very fond of blazing guns. Shoot first and ask questions later - that's our government's motto when it comes to dealing with drug dealers. Didn't you see 'Scarface'?

"They'll probably take your children away and place them in an inadequately staffed and poorly funded foster home ... it would be quite inconvenient. At the very least, they’ll get you for income tax evasion – just ask Al Capone. I can tell you he was one pretty pissed off gangster. I met him on Alcatraz … syphilis was his girlfriend’s wish as I recall, it was really quite poetic …”
 
“Is that true?” Buffy interrupted Anya’s story, looking at Giles.

 

“Well … uh, I suppose most foster homes are poorly funded, but I’ve never known syphilis to be particularly poetic …” Giles started.
 
“No! Not that! The tax stuff and house raiding?”
 
“Oh. Indeed, yes, I’m afraid that could happen,” Giles confirmed.
 
“Oh, that’s great! That’s just great! We finally have money and I can’t even spend it!? Seriously!?” Buffy ranted.
 
“Oh, you can spend it – you just need to launder it first…” Anya offered matter-of-factly.

 

Buffy looked at her with utter disbelief. “Oxyclean will keep me out of Alcatraz? They never mention that on the ads...”
 
“Not that kind of laundry, pet,” Spike began. “Need to make it legit … pay the taxes and whatnot – it needs to look like a real job.”
 
“That’s what I said,” Anya protested.
 
“How do we do that?” Buffy wondered innocently, looking from Spike to Anya.
 
“You donate the money to 'The World Defense Council’, our new non-profit, 501(c)(3) charitable organization that I just helped Giles set up. You give the money anonymously in several donations of less than ten thousand dollars each and I’ll write you a paycheck for it … less taxes, of course.”
 
“I’m not sure I’m comfortable using the Council to launder money, that’s rather … unseemly,” Giles objected.
 
“You can keep five percent commission,” Spike offered.

 

“Really? Five percent, you say? Well … errr ... perhaps ... in that case … uhhh ... I suppose there's no actual harm in it,” Giles agreed as he did the math in his mind – if Spike won that half million, that would be $25,000 in commission to the Council for doing basically nothing.
 
“Great!” Buffy beamed, shoving the four bundles of $10,000 each towards Anya. “You fix it.”
 
“What about the rest?” Anya asked, eyeing the other pile of money on the table, which was just under ten grand, like a hungry cat eyeing an unsuspecting mouse.
 
“That I keep for my next bet…” Buffy explained confidently as she took the cash off the table and pocketed it. “I’ve got a hot tip says that Pele what’s-it demon is going down …. What would a Pele demon have for a power, anyway … the ability to kick a soccer ball in a big ole net? Unless you’re a soccer ball… or a net, that doesn’t sound all that terrifying …”

 


“Fire,” came as a single foreboding voice … barely more than a unified sigh, from Spike, Giles, and Anya.

 

**~**

{{Click here to hear “Crazy Girl”, Eli Young Band on YouTube }}

Baby why you wanna cry?
You really oughta know that I
Just have to walk away sometimes
We’re gonna do what lovers do
We’re gonna have a fight or two
But I ain’t ever changin’ my mind

Crazy girl, don’t you know that I love you?
And I wouldn’t dream of goin’ nowhere
Silly woman, come here, let me hold you
Have I told you lately?
I love you like crazy, girl

Wouldn’t miss a single day
I’d probably just fade away
Without you, I’d lose my mind
Before you ever came along
I was livin’ life all wrong
Smartest thing I ever did was make you all mine

Crazy girl, don’t you know that I love you?
And I wouldn’t dream of goin’ nowhere
Silly woman, come here, let me hold you
Have I told you lately?
I love you like crazy, girl

Crazy girl

Crazy girl, don’t you know that I love you?
And I wouldn’t dream of goin’ nowhere
Silly woman, come here, let me hold you
Have I told you lately,
I love you like

Crazy, girl, don’t you know that I love you?
And I wouldn’t dream of goin’ nowhere
Silly woman, come here, let me hold you
Have I told you lately?
I love you like crazy, girl

Like crazy
Crazy girl
Like crazy
Crazy girl
Like crazy

End Notes:
TBC ... We will be checking back in with Bess soon - no I haven't forgotten her, and will have a little happy time before the big fight night... The Granok demon, according to Angel's research, could not be killed (and he beat Angel's ass), however, Connor did kill him (by chopping his head off). I figured Spike was at least as strong as Connor and twisting his neck around like that should be enough... ouch!

For those of you not familiar with betting, if the odds change after you place your bet, it doesn't matter - you get what they were when you made the wager.

And lastly, Pele is the Hawaiian Goddess of fire, lightning, wind, and volcanoes. Doesn't that sound like fun for a vamp to have to fight?
Hurry Home by Passion4Spike
Author's Notes:
Christmas day gets drawn out into the next day … will another unexpected guest ruin it again? Is the banner confusing? All will soon be made clear, grasshopper.
**
Music Referenced:
Hurry Home, Jason Michael Carroll, http://youtu.be/VWEI8Y91dQ0
Bobby Helms - My Special Angel, http://youtu.be/QdjpEzbUEJo
Macarena - Los del Rio, http://youtu.be/sN62PAKoBfE
 **
ScreenCaps courtesy of ScreenCap Paradise: http://www.screencap-paradise.com/?cat=3
**
Thanks to 'epd4' for betaing this chapter. Extra special thanks to PaganBaby for her help with 'Betty, the Chocolate Slayer'. Any mistakes are mine because I can't stop fiddling ...
(Six days ago) Monday, December 20th, 2010, 11:00pm, Renaldo, Oklahoma:
 
Bess and Sue-Ann sat on the steps of the front porch of the house the strawberry blonde Slayer shared with her brother Sammy, her parent’s house, her childhood home, and watched small puffs of white clouds dart across the dark sky. They were bundled up in heavy winter coats against the chill as the wind began to whistle through the limbs of the ancient black walnut tree in the front yard; a storm would be coming in soon. Sue-Ann tried to talk Bess into staying another day at least … even suggested that she stay for Christmas, but Bess was ready to head back to Cleveland. She’d gone back there when she left Philly and had been working at the vet’s office, paying back her debt to them as well as doing some patrolling at night. It was difficult for the Slayers there to patrol on the most bitterly cold nights, by the time they bundled up in enough clothing to stay warm, they could barely move to fight – that wasn’t a problem for Bess, the cold didn’t really bother her.
 
As Bess had hoped, Sue-Ann and Sammy had reconciled and she, along with help from the Watcher in Cleveland, had explained everything to her brother. Not that it was an easy thing for him to comprehend or accept, but over the last few weeks he’d come to terms with it and Sue-Ann had come back to Renaldo, at least for a while. There wasn’t a lot of demonic activity here, but she was enjoying being back home and spending time with her brother. After the holidays, she’d head back to Cleveland, as well … but she knew that her brother was here for her whenever she needed him; the dark secret was out in the light, at least with her ‘family’; what the rest of the town didn’t know, wouldn’t hurt them.
 
Bess had enjoyed spending the last few days with her friend and Sammy, who had always treated her with fairness and honesty. When Bess had gotten back to Cleveland after her trip to Philly, one of the other Slayers had passed on a note from Sue-Ann, telling Bess where she was and inviting her to come for a visit. ‘And yes,’ Sue-Ann had ended the note with, ‘I know you’re a vampire … you’re still invited.’
 
While Bess was in Renaldo, Sue-Ann had given the Harley a tune-up, including an oil change, and washed it and chastised Bess for not taking better care of it – it was a classic, after all. Bess promised to be nicer to the bike and the girls hugged their goodbyes. Sue-Ann assured Bess she’d join her in Cleveland after Christmas, then the elder Slayer tucked Angelpie into her saddlebag and the Harley roared to life. With one last look and a small wave back, Bess steered out of the driveway and back towards the center of town and the onramp to the interstate that would take her back to Cleveland and the job she had there.
 
**~**
 
(Six days after Bess left Renaldo. Next day after Spike’s fight with the Granok demon)
Sunday, December 26th, 2010, 3:00pm, Sunnydale:

 
Buffy had tried in vain to talk Spike out of fighting the Pele Haleakala demon on January 1st … but he wasn’t budging, even with the threat of a fire demon looming over him. He’d started this trek knowing he could face any of a million types of demons … just because he now knew which one he would be facing for once didn’t change anything. Buffy was happy to learn that it wasn't actually the goddess Pele he'd be fighting, but one of her devotees, instead - but still, fire and vampires were notoriously unmixy. Buffy had again talked to Willow about her progress finding or creating an additional Gem of Amarra for Spike, but she’d had no luck decoding the manuscript that she and Giles were fairly certain contained the key to it. She had a few basic protection spells that she wanted to try out on Spike during the coming week, but she honestly wasn’t too confident in them – mostly protection spells tended to not quite work the way you’d think they would, but the success of the protection spell she’d used on all of Buffy’s pregnancies gave her some hope that she could make one work properly. The problem was that the spell she used for Buffy’s fetuses called on the Slayer’s own ancient power and borrowed from Buffy’s own natural healing abilities to keep the baby safe … it really wasn’t the same as trying to protect the whole person with some mystical outside force.
 
Although Spike had become less ‘magic-adverse’ than he once had been, he was skeptical, I mean, after all, if that worked wouldn’t everyone be doing it? Spike had always been right about magic – it had consequences; little magic (like a glamour to transform a bandstand into their own personal oasis) had little consequences – usually too small to even notice; big magic, like a protection spell, would have big consequences; he was, therefore, not really keen on the idea. There were some things worth the price of the magic, such as bringing Buffy back from the dead; a protection spell, however, wasn’t on his very short list of ‘big magic’ that he’d condone. And, he pointed out, it wouldn’t matter in the fight because protection spells, amulets, etc. weren’t allowed and were, in fact, cleansed before the fighters could enter the ring. Even if he had a Gem, it would likely be exploded by the magical decontamination chamber Mr. Andreev used on every demon immediately before their bouts. This didn’t make Buffy any happier about the whole thing, but she had agreed to give him his chance at the championship and the half million dollars; she wouldn’t go back on her promise – but that didn’t mean she wouldn’t continue to try and talk him out of it right up until the last possible moment.
 
But now all that was put aside for a little while as the Seventh Annual Crawford Street Christmas Revue played out in the great room of the mansion. The adults had all done their bits – Lorne sang his traditional Christmas song to kick it off, Xander and Anya had done their traditional dance demonstration … even though they didn’t take lessons anymore, Anya made sure Xander stayed in practice and it had become their ‘thing’ for the show, Giles played acoustic guitar and sang a rock ballad … another tradition started on the very first show, and Clem performed his ‘magic’ tricks – awing the youngest children with his amazing powers, like pulling red, fluffy balls and quarters out of their ears.
 
Clem was glad Buffy and Spike had another baby since Dani, Billy, and JJ were growing up quickly. Another child meant another few years with at least one ‘awe-able’ person in the audience; with Eddie, that would be two – that worked. Willow and Tara had taken to singing together, but now always chose funny songs, leaving the mushy and romantic songs for Spike and Buffy; this year they did ‘You Can’t Roller Skate in a Buffalo Herd’ … the always popular classic originally done by Roger Miller, which the children had never heard before and thought they made up.
 
As had become the custom, Lorne had picked out a song for Buffy and Spike, although since that first year they didn’t really do ‘impersonations’ so much as just sing as themselves … mainly ‘cos, after Sonny and Cher – where else is there to go but down in the duet impersonation realm? Although Lorne thought he might toss in a song and dance number next year, just to keep the pair on their toes … maybe ‘You’re the One That I Want’ from Grease.
 
This year the song Lorne picked out was “I’ve Never Had it So Good”, originally done by Kris Kristofferson and Rita Coolidge. Since Spike was still not feeling his best after the previous night’s activities, and his knee still wouldn’t take much weight, they prepared to do the song from their seats on the couch in the audience instead of on the stage. But, when the music started playing from Lorne’s Karaoke machine, it wasn’t the music to the song they had rehearsed. Buffy looked at Spike questioningly but he just smiled as he pulled her microphone from her hands. He’d wanted to dance with her while he sang … but circumstances dictated otherwise.
 
Spike reached a hand out and softly caressed Buffy’s cheek as he began to sing to his special angel…his wild, crazy angel that had given him a life he’d long given up on and a love that defied logic or reason. A love, like his, that he knew could weather any storm. Buffy sat transfixed as his sweet voice poured words of devotion and adoration over her and his eyes held hers captive; their blue depths sparkling as flames of love danced within them and penetrated her soul, warming her from the inside out.

{{Click here to hear “Bobby Helms - My Special Angel on YouTube  }}

 “♫My special angel
(Angel, angel, whoa-oh-oh-oh, whoa)
(Angel, angel, whoa-oh-oh-oh, whoa)

You are my special angel
Sent from up above
The Lord smiled down on me
And sent an angel to love (to love)

You are my special angel
Right from paradise
I know you're an angel
Heaven is in your eyes

The smile from your lips brings the summer sunshine
Tears from your eyes bring the rain
I feel your touch, your warm embrace
And I'm in heaven again

You are my special angel
Through eternity
I'll have my special angel
Here to watch over me

(A smile from your lips brings the summer sunshine)
(The tears from your eyes bring the rain)
I feel your touch, your warm embrace
And I'm in heaven again

You are my special angel
Through eternity
I'll have my special angel
Here to watch over me (watch over me)

Here to watch over me
(Angel, angel, whoa-oh-oh-oh, oh, oh oh, oh) ♫”

 
As the song ended, Buffy gave him a soft, adoring smile and Spike leaned into her, taking her lips in a gentle kiss. He still felt horribly guilty about lying to her, about the whole thing with Mr. Shark and the money; he hoped she had forgiven him for that, he truly had never meant to hurt her and certainly never intended to put his family in any danger. He hoped that all the suffering wouldn’t be for naught when he met the Pele demon next Saturday night … he only wanted to make things better for them – for Buffy and their family. He wanted to do that more than anything in the world; he just wanted to be their hero.
 
After Buffy and Spike’s song … or Spike’s song, as it turned out, the kids put on a skit, ‘Betty, the Chocolate Slayer’ … written by Billy and Annie (with some help from Lorne), performed by the two writers plus Dani, JJ, and featuring Faith as the very evil villain set on depriving the world of chocolate; Xander and Anya helped with the sets.  Xander had long ago built a lightweight framework so they could put an actual curtain on the low, temporary stage, which made their little private annual revue seem all the more ‘show-bizzy’ … like an off-Broadway production … waaaay off Broadway.
 
~*~ Betty, the Chocolate Slayer ~*~

An Original play by Annie Weckerly, Billy Weckerly, and Lorne
Based, in part, on true events. Names have been changed to protect the innocent ... or not so innocent.
All suspects are presumed innocent until proven guilty in a court of law.



Lorne sets the scene for the audience: “Ixcacau, the Goddess of Chocolate, has been kidnapped by an evil sorceress bent on destroying the world. All the cocoa is dying in the fields, threatening the worldwide supply of chocolate and pitting nation against nation, brother against brother, Nestlé against Hershey as the supply dwindles dangerously low. Can they find the answer in time? Can Betty, the Chocolate Slayer, defeat the evil sorceress? Will her Watcher ever say anything other than ‘Dear Lord’? Will Lance have enough sugar to go around?”

~*~ Curtain rises ~*~
 
Scene 1: The research library, the table piled high with old books. Betty, the Chocolate Slayer, (played by Dani), her husband Lance, the reformed chocoholic demon with a Cockney accent (played by Billy), and Mr. French, the Slayer’s upper-crust English Watcher (played by JJ) are researching the newest apocalyptic threat.

Dani and Billy were sitting at the research table which is piled high with books but they weren’t reading. Dani dropped her head into her hand and moaned slightly …
 
Betty, weakly: “I’m not sure how much longer I can go on…”
 
Lance, encouraging: “You can do it, luv. We’re all countin’ on ya, Slayer.”
 
Mr. French, standing to one side, worried, reading a book: “Dear Lord.”
 
Betty, fading, moaning in agony: “I c-can’t … I can’t go on without ch-ch-chocolate …”
 
Billy furrowed his brow and set his jaw determinedly, trying to get his cheek to tic like his father’s did when he was really mad. He moved over to Dani and took her by the shoulders and began shaking her like a rag doll. Dani helped him by just going limp and letting her head teeter back and forth on her shoulders …
 
Lance, determined: “You can do it, Slayer! You’re the only bloody one that can save us from certain destruction! ‘Ere, eat a carob covered raisin!”
 
Billy pressed a carob covered raisin between her lips and Dani chewed it slowly, as if it was painful and she had no strength at all.
 
Mr. French, still studying his book intently: “Dear Lord.”
 
Betty, still weak: “It’s … no good … must … have … chocolate…” (Dani had obviously been to the William Shatner/Captain Kirk school of acting.)
 
Billy jumped up suddenly and started pacing back and forth, running a hand through his curls and letting his bite-sized, black duster billow out behind him and swish around in a wide arc with each sharp turn he made. Billy pursed his lips in frustration and anger, his cheeks hollowed, accentuating his high cheek bones.

 

Buffy put her hand over her mouth to suppress a too loud laugh. She glanced over at Spike and thought it was sweet, in a scary kinda way, how much attention the kids obviously paid to everything their parents did. Maybe more scary than sweet, actually. Spike’s lips were also pursed, in a classic example of art imitating life, as he watched his son impersonate him.  He sooo did not pace like that … the coat was too swishy … Spike’s pacing was much more manly.
 
Lance, getting angrier: “Bloody hell, Slayer! Where’s your magical M&M pretzel sword?”
 
Mr. French, shaking his head now as he looks at the same book: “Dear Lord.”
 
Betty … fading further, her head down on the table now: “We can’t use it … must save it for the … final battle…”
 
Lance throws open a weapon’s chest and pulls out the magical sword and presses it into Betty’s hand. “This is the final bloody battle, Slayer! Well … for t’day, at any rate.”

 

Mr. French, finally looking up: “I said, ‘Dear Lord!’ I might as well be talking to the bloody walls! Don’t you lot ever listen to me?”
 
Lance, agitated: “You always say ‘Dear-bloody-Lord’, Watcher!”
 
Mr. French, insulted: “Well, it’s always important! I have the answer here in my very smelly and dusty old book!”
 
~*~
 
Scene 2: The evil sorceress’ lair. The evil sorceress (played by Faith) waves her hand over a cauldron of bubbling chocolate (or dry ice, as it were) as her wicked plan plays out over the world. Ixcacau, the Goddess of Chocolate (played by Annie) is tied up on the floor near the cauldron.
 
Dani and Billy, as Betty and Lance, tiptoe into the edge of the scene as if searching for the lair, but can’t see it. Betty holds the magical M&M covered pretzel sword in one hand, over half the M&Ms are now missing …
 
Lance in a whisper: “What’s the plan, luv? Follow m’ chocoholic nose to Willy Wonka’s … rush in, fondue forks at the ready?”
 
Betty, with an eye roll: “Didn’t you hear Mr. French? We have a plan!”
 
Mr. French, from off stage, worried: “Dear Lord.”
 
Lance: “A plan, is it? Never been big on plans m’self. Double boilers and fondue forks always been more m’ style, luv.”
 
Betty: “It’s a good plan, he got it from the Buffy Croaker Picture Cookbook…”
 
Billy’s eyes went wide with horror and he put his hands up on both sides of his head as if to keep his brain from exploding.
 
Lance, clearly alarmed: “Bloody hell, woman! You have t’ … cook?!”
 
Mr. French, from off stage: “Oh, dear Lord. We’re doomed.”
 
The audience erupted in laughter … well, maybe everyone but Buffy, who folded her arms over her chest and glared at Spike who was holding the baby and trying to contain in his mirth … but the tears forming in his eyes gave him away. Why does everyone have to make fun of my cooking? I don’t see them refusing to eat…
 
Dani gave her best Summers pout as she picked another magical M&M (which for her were actually a candy called ‘Whizzers’ … a milk-free version of M&Ms) from her pretzel sword and popped it into her mouth then held up Spike’s ‘Kiss the Cook’ apron …
 
Betty, confident: “It’s ok, I have your apron … and my magical sword. No one’s gonna go without chocolate on my watch! I’m the Slayer! The Chosen One! The one girl in all the world that will wield the strength and skill to fight the forces of good nutrition; to stop the spread of the demonic food pyramid … which, by the way, doesn’t even have chocolate on it. What’s up with that?”
 
Lance, concerned: “By the looks of it, won’t be any chocolate left in your bloody magical sword by the time we find the beastie. You’re gobbling that up like it was soddin’ candy! Need a chocolate intervention, you do, Slayer. I’m callin’ the Oooma-Loompas for you, pet, ‘fore you toddle round the bloody bend…”

 

Everyone in the audience laughed again and looked at Spike who was, once again, looking less than happy with his son’s portrayal of him. “I’ve never said ‘toddle’ in my soddin’ life…” Spike complained dryly, his lips pursed together indignantly. “He’d better not say ‘crikey’ or ‘blimey’ at any point – I’ve never said those either.”
 
Betty, brightly, eating another M&M: “Oh! Do you think they’d bring me one of those giant golden eggs?”
 
Mr. French, from off stage: “Dear Lord. We’re completely doomed.”
 
Everyone burst into laughter again, looking at Giles, who was also not looking entirely thrilled. “I don’t say it that often…” he defended dourly. “And it is always important.”
 
Evil sorceress, waving her hand over the steaming cauldron begins to chant: “Double, double toil and trouble; Fire burn and cauldron bubble. The world will soon be piles of rubble… ”
 
Ixcacau, angry, indignant: “You’ll never get away with it, you evil fiend! The Chocolate Slayer will save me! She’ll save the world from the horrors of a chocolate-less existence!”
 
The evil sorceress threw her head back and began laughing …uhhh … evilly, sounding a lot like the Wicked Witch of the West.
 
Evil sorceress, overly confident: “Not this time, my pretty! The world is on the brink of destruction … my cauldron never lies! As we speak, the last Reese’s Cup is being devoured in the streets of Hershey, Pennsylvania, the last Wispa bar is being lapped up in London, the last Cadbury Dairy Milk bar is being gobbled up in Sydney, the last bon-bon is being bitten in Borneo, the last Krunch bar is being crunched in Caan, the last …”
 
Ixcacau, sigh, eye-roll, bored: “Yeah, we get it, already.”
 
Evil sorceress, gleefully evil, spinning a circle with arms open wide: “Soon chaos will reign supreme as the world’s chocolate cravings spiral out of control!”
 
In the audience, Buffy shuddered slightly – Faith’s spinning and maniacal laughing reminded her a lot of insano Dru; Faith played that part perhaps a little too well.
 
Ixcacau, determined: “The Slayer will never let that happen! She’ll stop your diabolical plan!”
 
Evil sorceress, eyes gleaming with … uhh, ok, evil: “You think I am unprepared for the Slayer?! You think me such a fool? The only way she could stop me is to produce a perfect chocolate soufflé … if it falls … so shall she!”  Faith laughed shrilly, tossing her head back and letting her long hair fall down her back.
 
Mr. French, from off stage: “Dear Lord ...”
 
Ixcacau, with another dramatic sigh and an eye roll: “…We’re doomed.”
 
~*~
 
Scene 3: Betty and Lance in a kitchen, the Buffy Croaker Picture Cookbook open, pots and pans cover the tabletop.
 
Dani moved back and forth frantically picking up pots and pans as if searching for something …the magical sword in her hand and Spike’s ‘Kiss the Cook’ apron hanging nearly to the floor around her neck.
 
Betty, in a panic: “A ramekin! A ramekin! My kingdom for a ramekin!”


 
Betty, softer, confused, brows furrowed: “…What’s a ramekin?”
 
Lance, with an eye roll and a heavy sigh: “Bloody hell, Slayer! You don’t 'ave a ramekin!? What kinda bloody Chocolate Slayer are you?!”
 
Betty, with a classic Summers pout: “A ramekin-less one?”
 
Mr. French, from off stage: “Dear Lord.”
 
Lance takes the ‘Kiss the Cook’ apron from Betty, slips it over his head, and begins banging pots and pans around on the table in earnest as Betty sits down, shrugs and blithely starts eating more of the M&Ms off the magical sword…
 
~*~
 
Scene 4: Back in the evil sorceress’ lair. The evil sorceress is still waving her hand over a cauldron of bubbling chocolate and Ixcacau, the Goddess of Chocolate, is still tied up nearby.
 
Lance and Betty rush into the evil sorceress’ lair bravely (or foolishly … however you want to look at it) like Batman and Robin would from the original TV show, hands on hips, Lance’s duster flying out behind him like a cape.
 
Evil sorceress, surprised but smug: “Slayer! You are too late!”
 
Betty, confident: “No! Never! See? I still have three M&Ms on my magical sword.”
 
Evil sorceress, unfazed: “You silly fool! Your sword cannot stop me! I am immune to your dark-chocolate pretzel magic!”
 
Betty, with an arm flourish towards Lance who is now behind her: “But are you immune to … soufflé!?”
 
Evil sorceress, victorious, snorts indignantly: “Soufflé? Pffffft! You couldn’t make a soufflé if the world depended on it … which it does! Admit it Slayer – you have been defeated! I will rule the world with my cauldron of chocolate! I have won! I am the queen of the world!”
 
Faith holds both arms up in victory, her head tossed back again as more evil laughing ensues from the villainous sorceress …
 
Mr. French, from off stage: “Dear Lord.”
 
Lance, pulling a perfect chocolate soufflé from behind his back and holding it up: “Your evil plan has one fatal flaw … as all evil plans written by six-year-olds do.”

 

Evil sorceress, looking at Lance with wide, frightened eyes: “NO!”

 
Lance, cocky: “Yes! You forgot the ramekin the Slayer was using as the cat’s bloody water bowl!”
 
Mr. French, from off stage: “Dear Lord.”
 
Lance, victorious: “You have been defeated! There is no problem which cannot be solved with chocolate!”
 
Betty, hand over mouth, looking a little green from eating all the magical M&Ms: “I think I’m gonna barf.”
 
Lance, with an eye roll: “I stand corrected.”
 
Evil sorceress, sinking slowly down to her knees: “I’m melting … I’m melting …”
 
Betty, smugly to the audience: “Let this be a lesson to all you kiddies out there. Get your daily minimum requirement of M&Ms to ward off evil melting.”
 
Ixcacau, breaking free of her restraints and rushing towards Lance: “The world is saved! My hero!”
 
Betty, angrily moving towards Lance and Ixcacau: “Hey – hands off my soufflé, sister!”
 
Lance, smiling smugly, a Slayer on one side, a goddess on the other, his arms around each of their backs: “Now then, sweet bits, no need to fight … there’s enough sugar t’ go ‘round…”
 
Mr. French, from off stage, emphatically: “Oh, dear Lord.”
 
~*~ Curtain Falls ~*~
 
Everyone burst out in applause and laughter as the actors all came center stage and took their bows … well, everyone except perhaps Giles, who intoned, “Dear Lord…” as he removed his glasses and scrubbed them with his handkerchief, which only sent the audience rolling in more raucous laughter. Then, even Giles had to laugh in spite of himself.
 
Billy jumped down off the low stage and presented the chocolate soufflé, which was a real chocolate soufflé that Lorne had made, to his mother.
 
“Do you think giving me that is gonna make me forgive you for that utter abomination and slander of the Slayer name?” his mother asked sternly, her brow furrowed.
 
Billy shrugged and gave her his most innocent look, utilizing the Summers pout effectively as he put on a lost puppy air. “Well … yeah.”

 

“Oh, well, in that case – you’re right,” Buffy laughed as she took a bite of the sweet, chocolaty goodness and moaned in pleasure.
 
“Looks like somebody finally figured out who the bloody hero is ‘round ‘ere and it ain’t the chocoholic Slayer…” Spike smirked. “She’s off eatin’ soddin’ M&Ms while the reformed demon’s saving the bloody world…”
 
Buffy laughed and nodded as she took another bite of the soufflé. “I think the men in this family have delusions of grandeur … How much did you pay Billy and Annie to write it that way?”
 
“I’m deeply hurt and offended! I’ll have you know I didn’t pay the mini-Shakespeares one red cent!” Spike huffed indignantly.

 

“Oh … paper money, huh?” Buffy guessed.
 
“Ten bloody dollars each…” Spike admitted, rolling his eyes. “Our bits’ loyalties don’t come cheap…”
 
Buffy laughed again as the second ‘mini-Shakespeare’ came up to her and Spike. “Did you like it?” Annie asked her parents, her eyes wide with glee.
 
“Bloody brilliant! Got Macbeth and Richard the Third in there … very posh!” Spike told her proudly.
 
“Next time Lance should be the one kidnapped … and the Slayer will sit on her duff eating M&Ms and let him rot,” Buffy suggested with a sideways glance at Spike.
 
“Bet she’ll come rescue him right quick if you put only green M&Ms on the soddin’ magic pretzel sword…” Spike smirked.

 

“Daaaaaaad!” Annie whined, rolling her eyes. “You’re bad.”
 
Spike shrugged, still bouncing ‘Kenzie lightly in his arms. “Reformed demon … can’t help m’self.”
 
“Apparently, you’re not all that reformed,” Annie countered smugly as she turned to Buffy and gave her a little wink making Buffy laugh again.
 
“You two are getting to be a right pair … corrupting her, you are!” Spike accused with pursed lips.
 
“Moi?” Buffy asked with wide, innocent eyes, one hand going to her chest. “You’re the unreformed demon in the house suggesting only green M&Ms…”
 
**~**

{{Just in case you’ve forgotten this classic, click here to hear Macarena - Los del Rio on YouTube  }}

As had become the tradition, the last ‘act’ for the show was the group dance. Billy helped Annie pick out the song this year, Buffy might’ve made a suggestion or two also, but now the two that got ‘credit’ for picking it out stood in the center of the floor and began… the Macarena. Even the windows in the house seemed to moan… Spike had never been more happy to be injured in his entire life.

Annie and Billy started doing the dance, Billy still in his ‘Lance’ outfit with black jeans, black t-shirt and a long black duster. Spike moaned and dropped his head backwards, looking up to the ceiling for strength when Billy swiveled his hips around – it was bad enough Annie doing that, but Billy, looking like a mini-Spike … Bloody hell…
 
“You aren’t getting out of this that easily, buster,” Buffy insisted as she took the baby from Spike’s arms and put her down in her playpen.
 
“Injured, luv … sorry,” he protested, waving a hand at his battered knee.
 
“Yeah, I know … poor baby. Your arms aren’t injured,” she insisted as Faith brought a chair from the research table out to the middle of the ‘dance floor’ and Buffy pulled Spike up off the couch.

 

“Gotta save m’ strength, luv … Pele demon, remember?” Spike argued as she guided him gently towards the chair while the song continued and even Giles joined in with the rest of the crazies on the dance floor. All for one and one for all … and all that rot.
 
Buffy sat him down in the chair and stood in front of him as she picked up the dance. Spike folded his arms over his chest and glared at her. Buffy leaned forward, her mouth next to his ear. “I’ve got a whole bag of green M&Ms upstairs just waiting for the best vampire Macarena-er…” she teased.

 

Spike cocked a brow at her as she backed up and continued, turning with a jump and starting the dance again in a different direction. If you want to see this hip swirl revved up on a bag of green M&Ms later, you better start dancing, she sent through the bond and his eyes dropped down to her hips as they curved round and round seductively. Spike licked his lips and gave in. He would always and forever be love’s bitch.
 
Just as Buffy made it all the way back around to face him and the dance started yet again, she felt a prickle down her spine … not from Spike. She frowned and looked at him, from the look in his eyes, he’d felt it too. Spike looked towards the garden doors … well, the plastic that covered the opening to the garden since the actual doors were in the dust bin, with trepidation – what the bloody hell now? He was far from 100%, even though Buffy had given him some blood a few hours ago, he hadn’t had time to heal yet. Spike let out a long breath of relief and his heart swelled with joy as he found the cause of the warning that tingled down his spine.

Bess.
 
After leaving Sue-Ann’s house in Renaldo six days ago, Bess made one pit-stop in town, stopping at the butcher shop and sliding an envelope with ten dollars in it under the door – money for the blood she’d stolen during her first stop in this small town. Bess stood next to the Harley under a street lamp and pulled out her well-worn map and checked it one more time, just to make sure she didn’t get lost, then folded it and put it back in her saddle bag. Then she brought Angelpie out and let her walk around on the grass next to the sidewalk for one last potty break before the trip started. Ever since Philadelphia, Angelpie had been good as new and back to her old tricks of ambushing Bess, playing her rough and tumble games and even patrolling with her friend. The vet back in Cleveland said it was amazing … practically a miracle, he honestly thought she’d have that limp forever.
 
As Bess slipped the kitten back into her cozy saddlebag, she brushed a button on the cell phone she’d purchased at Wal-Mart, which stayed in the bag with Angelpie, and the face lit up. Bess hesitated a moment as the cute picture of her kitten filled the small screen on the phone and cast a warm glow inside Angelpie’s little ‘room’.
 
Bess bit her lip and picked the phone up and sighed heavily. “Ok … just one more time,” she murmured to herself as she dialed the all too familiar number and pressed ‘send’.
 
She didn’t really know what she expected to hear. There had been a new announcement on the answering machine at the mansion for a while – Spike talking about owing money and the check being in the mail. She was sorry when the message had been changed, she had liked the feelings Buffy’s message always stirred in her – the memory of that day spent with her siblings and Buffy and the laughter they’d shared. She called the number sporadically ever since Sue-Ann had encouraged her to do so during Bess’ first stay in Cleveland, but she never said anything or left a message on the machine. She wasn’t sure really why she even called there … just to remind herself that they were real, perhaps.
 
Bess tried to hold onto the confidence Wanda had instilled in her that Buffy and Spike would want her back and would forgive her and did love her. When she left Philadelphia, she had every intention of going back to California right after she repaid her debt to Dr. Lowenbram and made enough money working there to pay her way … home. But, as time went by on the shores of Lake Erie, Bess started doubting again and the fear of rejection started creeping back in. Even with Billy’s assurances that she was welcome there and him telling her they still had her room waiting for her, going back frightened her more than anything she’d ever done, perhaps even more than being taken from her family to be a Slayer. After all, he was just a boy, he couldn’t possibly understand what she had done or the hurtful things she said to Buffy. It was the same fear that made her run in the first place. If you don’t give people the chance to reject you, then you can’t be hurt by them.
 
Even Buffy’s note that she’d sent with the Thanksgiving dinner did nothing to ease Bess’ fear. The worry was irrational, she knew – but even knowing that, it wouldn’t go away. It seemed so deeply seated within her that she could only overcome it for short periods before the doubt and worry crept back in. It was never long enough to get her to take action; if she could just stay brave long enough to take the first step. The first step, it seemed was the hardest; for her it felt like a leap off an unbelievably high cliff, without a parachute or even a net to catch her.
 
Bess could hear the phone ringing, even without holding it up to her ear or putting it on speaker, and she looked at it intently, as if subconsciously willing it to somehow make her speak this time – to somehow put the right words in her mouth. Maybe if she just said something … maybe Billy was right … at least she’d know for sure if she just said something, just once.
 
After four rings, the answering machine picked up … the announcement had changed, it was Buffy again…
 
“You’ve reached the Weckerly’s,” the message began in Buffy’s voice, then each of the children announced their own names excitedly, “Annie! Dani! Billy!” with Buffy adding, “Bess, MacKenzie, and Miss Kitty, along with Spike and Buffy, are away from the phone right now – or we’re just too tired to answer it, which, if you have kids, you’ll understand. If you leave a name and number, someone will call you back – it might be the cat, but you’ll have to take what you can get around here. If this is Santa calling to confirm our Christmas request, yes, please bring Elizabeth Anne Weatherford home … we love her and miss her.” Beeeep.
 
Bess stood dumbfounded, unmoving, staring wide-eyed down at the small phone in her hand, utterly speechless – again. She finally took a breath and started to speak when the machine beeped again and disconnected. The message time had been used up.
 
Bess stood there for many minutes, nervously fingering the magical amulet that hung around her neck that kept her hidden from locator spells, as she tried to sort through all the emotions running through her. A soft snow began to fall from the sky and blanketed everything, including her, with a layer of rapidly melting crystals. She looked up at the sky, looking for the courage that Wanda told her was there but that she just couldn't seem to find. Her eyes stopped on the butcher shop's sign that stood atop the building. 'Fortune favors the brave' ... read the black letters in the area of the sign that also announced that hamburger was on sale this week...

Bess looked at the sign, stared at it, let the serendipitous message burn into her brain for a long while until icy droplets of water running down her face finally pulled her out of her stupor. She slid the phone back into the saddlebag with Angelpie, mounted the bike and rumbled it to life before heading towards the interstate … which way would she go? North or West? Bess took a deep breath when she reached the elevated highway’s onramp and let her gut decide. In that split second to decide to turn right or left, she had been brave – she had taken the first step, she had leapt off the cliff.
 
Now Bess stood just inside the opening from the sunken garden, watching the crazy people that were, apparently, her family as they did an even crazier dance. That really could explain a lot actually … perhaps, as the saying goes, the crazy apple doesn’t fall far from the crazy tree. What were they doing? Trying to conjure something? It didn’t appear to be working… Bess’ arms were folded over her chest defensively and she tried to make herself as small and unobtrusive as possible with her back against the doorframe. Her eyes darted back towards the plastic covered doors – there was time, she could still escape.

 

Spike pulled himself up using Buffy’s shoulder and limped slowly over to the doorway, holding a hand up and silently telling Buffy to wait there as the others continued dancing, not noticing the newcomer. Bess bit her bottom lip and fought the urge to run away … again. Brave … she just had to be brave a little while longer. Fortune favors the brave, she repeated to herself over and over again. It had taken her thirty minutes just to walk down the garden stairs … another fifteen to step through the plastic into the house…
 
As Spike reached her she looked down at the floor, balled her fists where they rested under her crossed arms, and clenched her jaw, drawing on every ounce of courage she possessed just to stand still. One way or another she’d know … would he ask her to stay or to go? Would he scream at her for the horrible things she’d said to Buffy … for stealing his bike or running the Harley out of oil? Would he be angry she came back – invaded their space, interrupted their … ritual crazy-people dance?
 
A thousand things ran through Spike’s mind, but none came out, as he neared her. Her hair had grown out quite a bit, it was more wavy now that it had more weight to it, but still silky blonde, like Dani’s … well, mostly. There was a single braid hanging down from the part in the middle which was colored red and green – Christmas colors. She still looked like that fourteen-year-old to him and it made him want to pull him into his embrace and just hold her, protect her – but she didn’t need protecting and she wasn’t fourteen. What she needed was acceptance … perhaps approval … definitely love … and above all respect.
 
“Got over your aversion to multi-colored hair, then, I reckon,” he said at last, reaching a hand out and touching the braid.
 
Bess ducked her head shyly and reached up to touch the braid, pulling it from his hand. Sue-Ann had done it with food coloring … Bess had actually forgotten about it. “But I still don’t care for bubbly Slayers…” she replied sheepishly.
 
“Apple don’t fall far from the tree, I reckon, pet,” Spike replied softly.

 

Bess’ eyes went wide and she looked up at him. Had he read her mind earlier? Could he do that? She quickly dropped her gaze back down to the floor and just shrugged, her mind whirling and racing trying to figure out if he’d gotten some new power while she was gone.
 
The two blondes fell silent again for several long moments, each lost in their own thoughts – neither wanting to mess this up, as they waited for the other to make a move.
 
“Care t’ dance?” Spike asked at last, waving his arm towards the dance floor. Annie had just started the song over and everyone had loosened up and they were laughing as they jived along to the beat. Well, everyone but Buffy who was standing on the edge of the ‘dance floor’ watching the two blondes by the door, her heart in her throat.
 
Bess looked back up at him, a mixture of worry and relief washing over her features. Her eyes darted to the people on the dance floor and then back to him, meeting and holding his eyes for the first time.
 
“Looks …” she shrugged, as a few words popped to mind, finally she said, “…fun.”
 
“Yeah … fun – if you’re a surly Slayer bent on world domination by making all your enemies laugh themselves to death at your expense…”
 
Bess shrugged again and looked back at the people on the dance floor. “Sounds like a solid plan.”
 
Spike shrugged too, following her gaze. “Yeah … as plans go, I’ve had worse …”
 
Spike turned and offered Bess the crook of his arm and Bess settled her hand on the inside of his elbow. Spike fought the pain in his knee and struggled to walk gracefully, but it wasn’t really working.
 
“You’re injured…” Bess observed, looking down.
 
“Yeah, well … apparently we need some help with the world domination plan. You free? It’s dangerous, don’t pay much, the hours are long, and ya haveta do crazy dances every bloody Christmas …”
 
Bess smiled shyly and looked up at him, shrugging her head and one shoulder slightly. “I could probably clear some time on my calendar…”
 
Leap and the net will appear.
 
**~**

{{ Click here to hear Hurry Home, by Jason Michael Carroll on YouTube  }}

He's been sitting by the phone since she left
But it's time for work and he just can't be late
So he grabs his old guitar
And he plays a couple bars on the machine
And then he softly sings

It doesn't matter what you've done, I still love you
It doesn't matter where you've been, you can still come home
And honey if it's you, we've got a lot of making up to do
And I can't hug you on the phone, so hurry home

Well the message light was blinking when he got back
It was an old friend calling cause he just heard the news
He says Man I hope you find her
If I see her I'll remind her that her dad is worried
And want her to know

It doesn't matter what you've done, I still love you
It doesn't matter where you've been, you can still come home
And honey if it's you, we've got a lot of making up to do
And I can't hug you on the phone, so hurry home

Well the days dragged by without a word from her
And it looked like she might not be coming back
People said man don't you think it's time to take that old message off
He said no, you never know when she might call

She was just outside a bar in New York City
Her so-called friends had left her all alone
She was scared he wouldn't want her
But she dialed up that old number and let it ring
And then she heard him sing

It doesn't matter what you've done, I still love you
It doesn't matter where you've been, you can still come home
And honey if it's you, we've got a lot of making up to do
And I can't hug you on the phone, so hurry home

He walked in just in time to hear her say
Dad, I'm on my way
 
End Notes:
TBC ... Yay! Bess is home! But Spike still has the fight with a fire demon looming large in just a few days ... Is the angst over? Will Buffy talk him out of it? Will their enemies die of laughter as the group dances the Macarena? Will they rule the world with scrunchies? Does anyone but me remember who Mr. French was? ... clue: he had a young charge named 'Buffy' ... We'll soon find out the answers to all these questions (well - you can google Mr. French if you want)...

My apologies for the lack of Buffy pictures in here ... I must've been in a Spikey mood when I did it ... I just noticed that oversight ... I'll try to make up for it in a future chapter.
Sorry Seems to be the Hardest Word by Passion4Spike
Author's Notes:
Bess is back … where do we go from here?
**
Music Referenced:
Sorry Seems to Be the Hardest Word, Elton John http://youtu.be/J2e4NlnLr28
 **
ScreenCaps courtesy of ScreenCap Paradise: http://www.screencap-paradise.com/?cat=3
**
Thanks to 'epd4' for betaing this chapter. Any mistakes are mine because I can't stop fiddling ...
Sunday, December 26th, 2010, 5:00pm, Sunnydale:
 
Buffy and Bess both held their breath … which was more symbolic for Bess than anything, but still … and everyone that was dancing finally looked over to see what was going on. As the music came to an end, all eyes were on the three blondes as Spike and Bess approached Buffy where she’d waited and watched as her husband spoke with the girl.
 
Spike looked from one to the other of his Slayers and thought the resemblance was staggering, really – jaws set firm, bodies tense, adrenaline racing … they were both ready to fight or flee at that moment; he hoped they did neither.  As Spike and Bess stopped in front of Buffy, the two Slayers remained silent for what seemed an eternity – the silence was deafening in the large room. The two stood, unmoving, their breath caught in their throats as if bracing themselves for a punch to the gut. Finally, without warning, they both spoke at once…
 


“I’m sorry…”

The two hardest words in the English language broke the uneasy silence.
 
Spike breathed a deep sigh of utter relief.
 
Buffy moved forward and did what Spike had been afraid to do, pulled Bess into a strong hug. Bess didn’t object, she welcomed the embrace and finally allowed herself to breathe again as tears stung her eyes and she buried her face against Buffy’s shoulder. Wanda had been right. As Bess clung to Buffy she thought she could feel the ghostly embrace of her long dead family wrap around them both. Like a warm blanket of love on the coldest of days, it reminded her of Wanda’s words back in Philadelphia and it made her want to make those new memories with this family which the Guardian Angel had spoken of – happy memories, loving memories … memories to completely obliterate all the bad, erase all the doubt and fear.
 
It seemed like time had stopped for those moments … how much time had passed in Buffy’s embrace, Bess didn’t know. It seemed like minutes, but could’ve only been seconds before they were both overwhelmed by a tide of family and friends, exclamations of surprise and Billy asserting that he knew she would be here soon ‘cos Santa left her presents here. Buffy reluctantly released her as the others took a turn welcoming Bess home, the children fired off questions about where she’d been and what she’d been doing, the adults just gave her encouraging hugs and smiles. Buffy’s eyes met Spike’s across the throng of people that now stood between them and she took a deep shuddering breath and nodded her head slightly. They’d do better this time … you don’t often get second chances in life, it wouldn’t be squandered.
 
When the pandemonium had settled down to a low roar, Buffy officially introduced Bess to Willow and Tara, whom she’d never actually met in person before.
 
“Willow, Tara … this is our daughter, Elizabeth Anne Weatherford … Bess,” Buffy began.
 
“Weckerly…” Bess corrected quietly.

 

Buffy turned to her with a softly furrowed brow, tilting her head in question. Bess shrugged one shoulder slightly and nodded. “Bess Weckerly,” she repeated, looking back at Willow and Tara. “It’s really good to meet you at last. Buffy talked about you all the time.”
 
Buffy thought her heart was going to explode right out of her chest with joy. Spike had been right – of course, as he usually was in matters of the heart, Bess had to find her own way back to them; she had to come to terms with everything in her own time and her own way, and it looked like she had.
 
Just as Willow and Tara began talking to Bess, Billy came up and began pulling his sister by the hand over towards the Christmas tree. “Santa left your presents here!” he informed her excitedly.
 
“Santa?” Bess questioned as she let him drag her over to the tree.
 
“We didn’t know what you wanted, though … so we don’t know what you got,” Billy told her, pointing to the wrapped gifts still under the tree.
 
Bess felt … strange … that was the best way she could describe it, very, very strange. Santa had brought her presents … Her. A vampire. A vampire that basically cussed her mother out, accused the people who had helped her most of not loving her, and ran away from home. A vampire that stole her father’s motorcycle, ran it out of oil and blew up the engine. A vampire that didn’t even mail them a postcard to tell them she was ok. Now, of course, she knew that Santa wasn’t real … but that made it all the more perplexing as she looked at Spike and Buffy, who, along with everyone else, had followed them over to the tree.
 
“I … I don’t know what to say…” Bess stammered as Billy retrieved the largest package, longer than it was wide but quite thin, and handed it to her.
 
“You don’t have to say anything – Santa knows everything, even what you’re thinking, so it’s ok,” Billy assured her. “It’s not heavy enough to be a flat screen TV … Dani thinks it’s a dart board, I think it could be a bulletin board or maybe a picture in a frame…” Billy prattled happily as he waited for her to open it.
 
Bess sat down on the couch, still feeling terribly uncomfortable as everyone watched her open the first gift.
 
“Oh neat!” Dani exclaimed. “A skimboard!”
 
“I …” Bess stammered, turning the colorful board over. “… don’t think I know what that is.”
 
“It’s for skimboarding!” Dani explained eagerly, her eyes wide with excitement. When Bess just looked at her blankly, Dani continued, “At the beach, you ride it in the water … like a surfboard only … not really. I’ll show you! It’s awesome! You’ll love it!”

 

A skimboard? Buffy asked Spike silently, cocking a brow at him.
 
Spike shrugged. Figured Lemon Drop would like it if Bess didn’t, he explained.
 
Or you… Buffy accused with a smirk, drawing another noncommittal shrug from Spike.
 
“Here’s the next one!” Billy continued, handing Bess another gift. She was starting to feel a little like a side-show freak with everyone looking at her, but the kids seemed so intent on doing this and eager to see what the gifts were that Santa had left, and she hated to disappoint them.
 
“Dani thinks it’s rollerblades,” Billy informed her as he waited for the paper to be torn away.
 
“Oh, excellent!” Dani enthused, jumping up and down and clapping when her theory was confirmed. “They’re just like mine! We can go together!”
 
Now these Bess recognized and knew she liked. She’d seen people on them before and they did look like fun … like the roller skates she’d gotten for her thirteenth birthday, only way better. “That sounds wonderful…” Bess agreed as she sat the box down beside her on the couch.
 
The next gift was a long, round tube. “It’s a poster for your room,” Billy informed her confidently.
 
Bess smiled and took the tube from his small hands. Your room … your room … it sounded … comforting, like dulcet choir of angels had rained the words down on her softly from above.
 
Bess laughed as she unfurled the two posters that were in the tube … one of American ‘Muscle Cars’ … side views, like those silhouette photos she’d seen in some old war movies of different airplanes that the soldiers used to try and identify the aircraft … Santa obviously wasn’t sure which car she’d like, so he got her a poster with all of them on it.

 

The other poster was of three colorful motorcyclists taking a curve in a race …

 

Bess looked up at Spike. “I promise I didn’t ride it like that…” she assured him, although she had done her best to ride that way for a short while when she first left.
 
Billy handed Bess the last box that was addressed to her. “This is probably clothes,” he moaned, rolling his eyes. “The best presents were the ones with all the tape and funny paper on them …” he explained.
 
Buffy rolled her eyes. Next year she was gonna be the one giving the ‘best presents’ and Spike could give them the dreaded utilitarian stuff – underwear, socks, shoes, jackets. Spike didn’t know it yet, but he had messed up by wrapping those gifts himself … she now knew that he could, in fact, wrap gifts without bursting into flames. He couldn’t wrap well … but, hey, even howler monkeys could be trained.
 
Bess opened the last box and Billy’s contention was confirmed. Socks, a jacket, and a pair of boots. Bess actually like the boots and jacket quite a lot, though. Her old boots had gotten rather beaten up over the last months on the road and the jacket had a handy inside pocket, perfect for carrying a stake.
 
“Thank you …” she offered, glancing furtively towards Buffy and Spike, before giving Billy a wide smile. “Santa was much too kind…”
 
After everyone started to scatter slightly, Bess stood up and went over to Buffy and Spike. “I … I have a friend waiting outside. May I bring her in?”
 
Buffy’s brows shot up. “Of course – you should’ve said something sooner!”

 

“I … I wasn’t sure …” Bess shrugged, not really wanting to finish that sentence. Not wanting to say she didn’t bring Angelpie in because she wanted to be able to make a very hasty retreat if need be. “I’ll be right back.”
 
When Bess came back in with the kitten … who wasn’t really a little kitten anymore, but about half grown, the kids were enthralled. Miss Kitty Fantastico, who was seven now, was a little curious about the rambunctious youngster … at first. Then she simply sauntered away smugly, climbed the stairs, and took her throne at the top of the landing where she could look down upon her loyal subjects, her tail twitching lazily, as if the whole scene below her was just a bit tedious for her tastes. You could almost feel Miss Kitty’s eyes roll and hear an impatient sigh as the kitten entertained the group of new admirers with her acrobatics and ambush tactics and cuteness. Miss Kitty was too sophisticated for such uncouth antics; she was the queen of the house and wasn’t threatened by the little court jester, although she may have to put her in her place if the newcomer tried any of those ambushes on her.
 
“What did ya say your friend’s name was?” Spike questioned after a few minutes.
 
“Sweetie Puddin’ Angelpie,” Bess replied from her place sitting cross legged on the floor with the other kids as Angelpie took full advantage of all the extra attention. “I just call her Angelpie for short…”
 
Spike pursed his lips and shook his head. “Sorry, pet … but this ain’t gonna work out. Angelpie’ll have t’ go.”
 
All the kids went suddenly silent and looked up at him with wide eyes … even Buffy, who was sitting nearby holding MacKenzie, looked at him like he’d lost his mind. “What!?” came in unison from the youngsters.
 
Bess’ face fell … her heart fell … her whole being seemed to fall. “But … she won’t be any trouble… I’ll … I can buy her food and …”
 
“No Angelpie,” Spike reiterated firmly.

 

Bess bit her lip as tears welled in her eyes and she picked the kitten up. Was he really going to make her choose between them and her best friend … a friend that had saved her life in more ways than one?
 
Before Buffy could even step in, Billy came to his sister’s … and Angelpie’s defense. “Papa! You can’t do that!” Billy argued as he looked between Bess and his father. He could feel her pain as if it were his own.
 
“Mama promised! She said we didn’t have to give away any more kittens – ever! She promised!” he argued angrily as he jumped up from where he’d been sitting and stood between his father and Bess. There was that tic in his cheek that he’d been trying to get during the play.
 
Spike pursed his lips and looked back at Bess who had gathered the kitten up and was holding it against her chest, its head tucked under her chin, then looked back at his son. Anger flared like blue flames in the boy’s eyes, his mouth was a firm line of determination; it made Spike proud to see him stand up for Bess like that.
 
“Didn’t say the mangy cat had t’ go … just the bloody name,” Spike explained with an eye roll. “Not having anything named ‘Angel’ living under my roof.”

 

“Spike! You’re a giant creep! I should box your ears or something …” Buffy exclaimed as she stood up from her seat. She really wasn’t 100% sure what that meant, but it sounded good … how exactly do you box someone’s ears? You get little ear-sized boxes and tape them on? Or maybe you cut the ears off and put them in a box … that sounded more feasible and more painful – that would be more appropriate. If vampires got their ears cut off, would new ones eventually grow back?
 
“What? I never said the bloody tabby couldn’t stay! Just find it a different soddin’ name for the thing,” he defended.
 
All the kids let out a collective sigh of relief while Buffy picked up an empty box that had held some sort of Christmas present in its past life and, still holding the baby in one arm, she lifted the box up and stuffed it down over Spike’s head. “Consider your ears boxed.”
 
“Oh, bloody hell …” came the muffled moan from under the cardboard.
 
**~**
 
Later that night, after all the guests had gone and the younger kids were in bed, Buffy knocked on Bess’ door. Spike was asleep – he’d taken this week off from his regular job to try and get as much rest as possible before the fight on Saturday … which Buffy continued to try and talk him out of, without any luck, thus far.
 
“Come in,” Bess called from the other side. She was sitting on her bed with her kitten, dressed in shorts and a t-shirt despite the cool temperature in the mansion. The red and green braid had faded out some when she washed her hair and now looked almost pink and chartreuse; it’d probably be gone completely in another couple of days, providing Annie didn't get the idea to re-do it for her.

 

Buffy smiled softly as she entered her daughter’s room, closing the door behind her and glancing around. The two new posters that ‘Santa’ had given Bess adorned one wall, the skimboard and Rollerblades sat in one corner, a red brick, half of which had been painted over white, sat on the bedside table along with a porcelain angel tree topper that appeared to be quite old, despite its pristine condition. Buffy didn't ask about the items - not now; she hoped when Bess was ready to tell them what she'd been doing that their meaning would be revealed, but she didn't want to push it.
 
Buffy took a seat at the opposite end of the bed from Bess. “Sorry about Spike today – sometimes he doesn’t think … well, mostly it’s Angel that makes his brain totally fizzle and short circuit … or apparently anything named ‘Angel’ … I think if he ate angel food cake he’d probably dust right on the spot,” Buffy rambled nervously. “It’s a whole thing with him, kind of his raison d’être … to hate anything Angelish, or Angel-y ... maybe even Angelific … he’s pretty anti-Angel. Not, you know … angel angels, but the name … Angel.”
 
Bess looked at her like the crazy tree was blooming again, but finally shook her head slightly. “It’s ok … we can find a new name.”
 
“No! No … Angelpie is perfect; it seems to suit her. Don’t worry about him, he’ll be fine with it. He’s just … Spike,” Buffy assured her with an eye roll, as if that explained everything. "He'll deal."
 
“Ok … if you’re sure…” Bess agreed tentatively. She didn’t want Angelpie to be tossed out because of her name…
 
“Totally sure … feel free to stomp on Spike’s toe if he says another word.” Buffy smiled and reached a hand out to pet the calico. The kitten arched her back up against the Slayer's touch and purred happily.
 
Bess laughed lightly at the image of stomping on Spike's toe and him pulling it up and holding it in his hands and jumping around on one foot. She shrugged and nodded her agreement.

 

“Bess … I’m really glad you came back – there’s no way for me to tell you how glad. I know maybe we messed up before … honestly, we didn’t mean to hold you back or …” Buffy stammered before stopping and taking a deep breath. This was harder than talking to Annie about the facts of life. “What I mean is, we know you’re an adult … we just wanted to let you be child for a while … to try and give that back to you. We just didn’t realize that it was too late… I swear we didn’t mean to hold you back or keep you down.”
 
Bess bit her lip and reached out and petted Angelpie too, scratching her ears and under her chin as Buffy stroked softly down her back. “I know … I’m sorry. I’m so sorry for lying to you and the things I said – I … I swear I didn’t mean them … I wanted to be what you wanted, but then … I just couldn’t do it and … I didn’t want to disappoint you, so I lied about the GED thing and …” Bess let her voice trail off, knowing that wasn’t really what Buffy had been most upset with her about.
 
“Bess, it’s not my place to tell you who to … who to sleep with, but I love you too much to stand by and watch you …”
 
Bess swallowed back a lump in her throat. “I’m not …” she interrupted Buffy. “I won’t … I won’t do that again.” Bess looked down at the kitten, unable to meet Buffy’s eyes. “I got arrested … in Oklahoma …” she admitted to Buffy, not aware that Buffy already knew that. “I … I thought it had all been a dream – you and Spike and Billy and Sunnydale and freedom. I thought the Council had found a new experiment … that they were trying to drive me insane, and they were succeeding.
 
“I know that fear of jail isn’t the best reason for me to not trade sex for money … but, it’s the best reason I have right now,” Bess admitted, finally looking up and meeting Buffy’s eyes.
 
Buffy gave her a small smile and nodded. “Well, if you’ll let us, maybe we can help you find some other reasons,” Buffy suggested. “You’re a smart girl, Bess … I know you got scared and ran … but the fact that you made it out there all on your own for six months, that you helped the Slayers in Cleveland and even made a friend,” Buffy continued, nodding down at the kitten, “tells me that you have lots of reasons to be proud of yourself. The fact that you came back tells me how brave you are and … that maybe you’d like to … I don’t know … let us help you now? I promise we won’t suffocate you, but we’d so much like to help … whatever you need or want to do, we’d like to help.”
 
Bess looked back down at the kitten and nodded slightly. “Wanda said there were a million wonderful memories waiting to be made … here, with you,” Bess bit her lip and looked back up at Buffy, then shrugged. “I’d like to … to make some. You know … memories, happy memories, with everyone … ‘cos …” Bess cleared her throat and summoned her courage. “‘Cos I missed you all and … I love you … Mom.”
 
It still felt strange to Bess, but at the same time she knew it was right. Buffy was her mom, Spike was her dad. She didn’t know if it would ever roll off her tongue like it had with Wanda and John, but she could press it out of her mouth if she thought about it, and it didn’t burn … it was sweet on her lips. Mom.
 
Oh God. Mom! Buffy drew in a deep breath and wiped the tears from her eyes then leaned forward and drew Bess into a hug. “We missed you and we love you so much, sweetie. We never stopped thinking about you or worrying about you … I prayed you’d come home every day, but it was Annie, Dani, and Billy that finally got the prayer to come true – they asked Santa to bring you home.”
 
Bess snorted a soft laugh and nodded against Buffy’s shoulder. “Santa’s like a Borg … resistance is futile,” Bess quipped and Buffy laughed. Apparently the girl hadn’t forgotten everything from the time she spent here … quoting Star Trek expressions is a definite sign of assimilation into the Weckerly clan. Resistance is, most definitely, futile.

 
**~**
 
(Next Morning) Monday, December 27th, 2010, 6:00am, Sunnydale:
 
Buffy couldn’t sleep … she tried, but she couldn’t. She had to do something … anything. So she sat alone at the research table, books about demons and magicks spread out over it, important pages marked with sticky notes (don’t tell Giles, he still says they must leave some residue on the paper…it’s simply impossible that they can stick and not leave some substance behind). She’d looked up every protection spell she could find, plus everything about Pele demons … any accounts from Slayers that had met them and any information about how to defeat them – without getting burned to a cinder in the process. Honestly, after three hours of work, she had accomplished very little, but at least she was utterly exhausted now, that was a plus.
 
“Hey, B,” Faith greeted her as she came in the garden doors … or plastic covered opening in the wall, as it were.

 

Buffy turned tired eyes to her sister Slayer. “Where’ve you been? Change your mind on the whole abstinence policy?”
 
“Nope, I’m still on the wagon … although my battery bill is going through the roof,” Faith divulged with a sly grin.
 
Buffy laughed. “I’d tell you that they sell electric, plug-in vibrators, but since I’m paying the electric bill, I’ll just skip that bit of information … Plus, Edison Electric would probably have to start up a whole new power plant if you discovered that wonder of modern technology.”
 
Faith laughed and dropped down in the seat next to Buffy.  “It does make you wonder if it’s worth it … I mean, sex with a real, live guy is basically free … I mean, yeah, you might have to talk to him but … well, we all have to make sacrifices.”
 
“I hate to tell you this, but if you’re looking for love, you’ll probably have to talk to a guy … probably – I mean, it’s just a theory, I think I read it in Cosmo,” Buffy offered.
 
Faith rolled her eyes and leaned back, balancing her chair on just the two back legs. “Yeah, I’m beginning to get that idea,” she admitted. “Speaking of talking – Lindsey called … uhhh, I can’t remember what day now, a couple of days ago – you were gone. Anyway, he said he was kinda tied up now – and not in a fun bondage way, but that he’d call back when he could.”
 
Buffy nodded, somewhat surprised that he had actually called. Faith, of course, knew Lindsey from the time she spent in the Coven in Canada helping to train new Slayers. “Did he say how long he’d be in Nepal?”
 
“He wasn’t really sure how much longer … I guess it’s not like ordering Chinese food – one from column A, one from column B kinda thing. He sounded good though … thought he was gonna make it through the trials and get all the magical concealment tats,” Faith related. “He’s had to do some unbelievable shit … he had to walk across burning coals – like they show on TV. He said it’s a matter of belief that you won’t get burned. Mind over matter or some crap,” Faith continued, shaking her head in sympathy. “And that was the first trial … it’s only gotten more intense from there. They’re really putting him through the wringer for those babies… all I had to do for mine was fork over some dough.”
 
Buffy cocked a brow and looked at Faith. “I don’t think your tats actually have any magical power…”


 
Faith shrugged. “I don’t know … they’re like horny-man bait … that’s a pretty good power if you ask me. You can never have too much horny-man bait.”
 
Buffy laughed and shook her head a little. “A hard man is good to find, huh?” Buffy questioned with a smirk. “And now you’re what? Fishing in a ‘catch and release’ pond, I guess?”
 
Faith sighed. “Yeah, something like that… catch, talk … toss back. How did you get past the whole … ‘Hey, baby, what’s your sign?’ shit with Spike and get to something that matters?”
 
Buffy laughed. “We skipped right to beating each other up … it was a whole mortal enemy thing. I wouldn’t really suggest that approach with most guys, though. So, how long did you talk to him … Lindsey, I mean?” Buffy asked, changing the subject slightly.
 
Faith furrowed her brow as she thought, then finally shrugged. “I don’t know … an hour … two? Maybe longer.”

 

“Glad I wasn’t paying that long distance bill,” Buffy muttered under her breath and shook her head as she looked back down at the book she’d been reading.

"So, did he ask you your sign?" Buffy wondered nonchalantly, keeping her eyes on her book.
 
“Naaa - he never did. We talked about the trials and tats and things they don't have in Nepal. I promised to take him out to Dairy Queen and buy him a Blizzard and a burger if he ever makes it to SunnyD. Who knew there were no Dairy Queens in Nepal ... crazy right?” Faith questioned, dropping the front legs of her chair back down to the floor.
 
Buffy continued to shake her head. “Yeah, life gets crazy like that sometimes, mostly when you least expect it,” Buffy agreed.  

“So, if it wasn’t ‘sexcapades’ keeping you out all night, what was it?” Buffy asked, changing the subject completely.
 
“Oh – that Pele dude … I was doing some checking around,” Faith told Buffy, leaning forward in her chair.
 
Buffy looked up from her book and looked at Faith. “And?”
 
“And … it’s not good. He’s the real deal; one very hot potato …” Faith groaned and rolled her eyes. “I’m tired and that sounds like he’s a Mr. Potato Head, which, I’m thinking not. Best I can figure, unless you’re a ‘Fire Extinguisher Demon’ or ‘Asbestos Man’ …” Faith’s voice trailed off.
 
“You’re not gonna win…” Buffy finished her thought. “Especially if you’re ‘extra flammable vampire man’.”
 
Faith shrugged and gave Buffy a sympathetic look. “Sorry.”
 
“Yeah … me too.”
 
**~**
 
Wednesday, December 29th, 2010, 11:00am, at the new Council headquarters:
 
“So …” Buffy was saying to the Council Governing Committee, which now included Bess for the first time in many months, “… I think it would be a great idea if we could have some kind of … ‘Special Olympics’ … only well – not. Olympics for Slayers. Maybe ‘Supernatural Olympics’,” she amended.
 
“Buffy,” Giles addressed her. “I understand your point … Slayers are incredibly … competitive, but do you really think that’s the best use of their time and talents … as well as our own?”

 

Buffy shrugged. “I just think that Slayers would like a little recognition for their talents … their abilities. They can’t get it by going on TV and saying, ‘Hey, look at me! I saved the world!’ Plus, it would be a great way for Slayers from around the world to meet each other and … Oh! We could compete as teams … teambuilding … that’s like the hottest thing now, right? Companies pay big money to send their employees off into the wilderness or boot camps and stuff to try and not die so they can build trust and whatever. Seems like that would be something kinda important for Slayers to have, right? Trust in each other – the ability to work as a team.
 
“What do you think, Bess?” Buffy questioned, looking across the table at her daughter.
 
Bess bit her bottom lip and looked at the faces around the table which all turned to her; Giles, Wes, Faith, and Amanda, along with other Watchers and Slayers she’d only met this day, plus Fred … which Bess considered to be an odd name for a girl.
 
Bess cleared her throat … she knew where this was coming from, her disappointment of not being able to compete on the swim team at the ‘Y’. “I … uhhh … I think that Slayers would relish the chance to compete against each other for a bit of glory and … I think that, since we’re placing Slayers in teams now, which is quite contrary to their natural instincts, the stronger we can make each team, the better it would be for everyone – including the world at large.”
 
Buffy smiled at Bess. She hadn’t warned her about bringing this up and she probably should’ve, but it just seemed like the right time, finally. She’d been thinking about it for a while … well, about six months. Buffy turned back to Giles and raised her hand. “All in favor?”
 
All the Slayers raised their hands immediately. Faith kicked Wes under the table. He flinched in his seat and glared at her, but finally raised his hand, as well, breaking the tie so Fred wouldn’t have to do it.
 
Giles sighed and rolled his eyes. “We will have to wait until we have sufficient funding to organize such an event …” he pointed out. “Unless you’d all like to forgo your compensation for a month or two…”
 
Everyone, except Buffy, Bess, and Faith lowered their hands.
 
“Let’s do this … let’s table this vote for now,” Giles suggested. “And, when we secure sufficient funding, we will reopen the issue. Perhaps by this summer we can have something in place and host a small, test run of sorts. Would that be satisfactory?”
 
Buffy nodded and lowered her hand and Faith and Bess followed suit. “Ok … but I’m not gonna forget it.”
 
“I’m well aware of that, Buffy,” Giles agreed with a sigh. Bone, meet dog.
 
Giles finished up the meeting going over boring business stuff … saying that, with Anya’s help, who had been hired as their (part-time) Chief Financial Officer, they had applied for several government grants for their new not-for-profit organization and were quite hopeful that they would be receiving those funds soon.  They had listed their not-for-profit organization as a ‘Community Enhancement and Safety’ organization. They hoped to offer either free or low cost self-defense classes to the public at large, which would serve as a 'cover' for their non-profit organization and also provide a valuable service which the community of Sunnydale could certainly use. They were still searching for the right instructor for that, either a new Slayer or perhaps one of the Watchers in training. By offering that, it would help them meet the requirements of the government for the not-for-profit status and qualify them for several grants.
 
Giles had matched what Anya was making at the Video Hut, which wasn’t much for a CFO, but then, the World Defense Council wasn’t much of an organization … yet. As it grew, he promised her, so would her compensation. She still worked at the Magic Box full time, but quit the Video Hut (again … after two weeks notice, just in case this gig didn’t work out and she had to go back).
 
They had also hired Xander as a contractor to build out a suitable training room in the warehouse and create a bomb-proof, earthquake-proof, flood-proof … hopefully apocalypse-proof vault that could house the more dangerous magical artifacts they had discovered in the tons and tons of paraphernalia the Council had in storage. Willow had placed magical wards within the thick, reinforced, concrete walls, floor and ceiling to keep it hidden from the world at large and protected from magical intrusion or invasion. In addition, a new humidity controlled, secure (but not as secure as the dangerous artifact vault) library was being built within the warehouse to store the multitude of books after they had been scanned into the database (because you know Giles would never actually get rid of the books!). Willow had graciously volunteered her time and expertise to get that database all set up for them and Slayers-in-training spent some hours of each day scanning books into the computer. On the second floor of the warehouse, Xander built out a dorm for the Slayers-in-training with several private berths along with a large bathroom, a kitchen, and a common area where they could ‘hang out’ and watch TV or play games, etc. in their free time.
 
Back in England, the Council’s headquarters building had been sold – it went for less than what Giles had hoped, but the upkeep was bleeding the coffer dry and they couldn’t afford to wait out the current real estate depression. The castle outside London had not yet sold – funny how plummeting stock markets, threats of entire countries declaring bankruptcy, and devalued currency the world over took a toll on the lucrative castle market…
 
The Apocalypse Leadership Team had finally been completely staffed with Slayers and Watchers from around the world. Faith and Wes had worked tirelessly on getting that organized and making sure all regions of the world were covered with someone from the ALT. They had gotten the Slayers organized like an army, as Faith had suggested originally, smaller teams or squads (each with at least one Watcher) making up regional platoons, each of which had one of the ALTs in charge of it. Those leaders would be responsible for organizing large-scale battles and following the orders sent down from the ‘General’ … Faith.
 
(about a month and a half ago), Early November …
 
The CGC and ALT had both been fully staffed and both groups, which included some people who were in both, convened now for the first time at the new Council headquarters in Sunnydale to choose the person who would have complete control during an emergency … an apocalyptic threat. There would be no time for lengthy debate at that time, one person would need to make the hard decisions and everyone else must agree to follow those decisions and work as a team to defeat the threat, whatever form it may take.
 
There were four nominations for the job of ‘General’ of the Slayer army: Buffy, Giles, Faith, and Wesley. Buffy immediately withdrew her nomination – which had been offered by Spike and seconded by Giles.
 
“I can’t be the general…” she explained simply. “Take my name off the list.”

 

“What do ya mean you can’t be the bloody general?” Spike questioned. “You’re the Slayer … you should be the soddin’ general.”
 
“Spike, I’m a Slayer … not the Slayer and I can’t take that job,” Buffy argued adamantly, wishing he’d drop it. He wouldn’t.
 
“That’s bollocks! Everyone knows you’re the most qualified … the senior Slayer … been through more hell, both literally and otherwise, than anyone else here, I’d wager. Know all the tricks … all the moves, you do. You know evil … you know how it thinks … how to defeat it.”
 
“Spike, please … I can’t be the general… I vote for Faith,” Buffy announced, looking around the table. “No offense, Giles … but I think the head of a Slayer army should be a Slayer – and Faith’s the best … she can handle it, she knows as much as I do, she’s just as strong … just as smart – maybe smarter.”
 
“Bloody hell…” Spike moaned as he got up from his seat and grabbed Buffy’s arm, pulling her up with him and away from the group. “A word, Slayer…” he muttered as he dragged her out the door.
 
Outside in the hallway, he stopped and turned around to face her. “What the bloody hell are ya doin’, Buffy?” he questioned earnestly. “We both know you’re the stronger one … the smarter one.”

 

“Spike, please trust me … I just can’t do it.”
 
“Can’t or won’t?”
 
“What’s the difference? I can’t and I won’t …” Buffy offered tersely.
 
Spike tilted his head and considered her a moment as she stood her ground. “It’s that prophecy innit?” he asked at length. “We both know that’s probably a load of bollocks…”
 
Buffy folded her arms over her chest and rolled her eyes. “Spike … there might come a day when I have to stand alone again … when that day comes, I can’t have an army of Slayers depending on me. You said it … I’m the Slayer … prophecy or no, a day will come when I’ll have to stand alone.”

 

“You’re a Slayer …” Spike tossed her words back at her.
 
“Yeah … a Slayer that brings forth The Tetrad … who open the gates of hell, which only I can close; brings forth the End of Days, which I must face alone,” Buffy retorted, quoting prophecies and Slayer dreams.
 
Tears stung her eyes as she thought of their children and the world they’d brought them into … a world of demons and Hellmouths and prophecies. She blinked her emotions back and met his eyes. “I can’t do everything, Spike … I choose my family … I have to choose to do what I can to protect them first.”

Buffy shrugged. “That’s probably wrong … selfish, maybe … but … that’s my choice.”
 
Buffy remembered hearing or reading something a long time ago about the people that the government used to staff the nuclear missile silos during the cold war. It said that only people (mostly men) with no families and in particular no children, were used in that position. She wasn’t sure if that was actually true, but Buffy could understand the logic of it – how could you choose anything above your family? Your children? How could you launch a weapon that you knew would destroy the world if you had children out there in that world? It put her solidly between a rock and a hard place … but she had to follow her heart this time – she had to choose to protect her family and leave the world in the hands of someone else.
 
“‘Keep the mission always in mind … to save your children, you may need to save the world first,’” Spike quoted what Nikki Wood advised him when his ghosts had visited him … and finally forgiven him.
 
Buffy dropped her arms down to her sides and sighed as she leaned against him. “I know … I remember, but I can’t. Faith can save the world; we’ll save our family.”
 
Spike wrapped his arms around her and dropped a kiss on the top of her head. “Ok, luv … if that’s what you want, you know I’m with ya – always.”
 
“It’s not what I want; it’s just what I have to do…” she admitted, blowing out a deep breath. What she wanted was for demons and Hellmouths and prophecies and the PTB to leave her family the hell alone … Wishes and horses…
  
**~**

{{Click here to hear “Sorry Seems to Be the Hardest Word”, Elton John  on YouTube  }}

What do I got to do
To make you love me
What do I got to do
To make you care
What do I do
When lightning strikes me
And I wake to find that
You're not there

What do I got to do
To make you want me
What do I got to do to be heard
What do I say when it's all over
Sorry seems to be the hardest word

(Chorus)
It's sad, so sad
It's a sad, sad situation
And it's getting
More and more absurd
It's sad, so sad
Why can't we talk it over
Oh, it seems to me
That sorry seems to be the hardest word

Elton
What do I got to do
To make you want me
What do I got to do to be heard
What do i say when it's all over
Sorry seems to be the hardest word

(Chorus)

Blue
What do I got to do
To make you love me
What do I got to do to be heard
What do I do
When lightning strikes me
What have I got to do
What have I got to do
When sorry seems to be the hardest word
End Notes:
TBC ... Spike's fight with the Pele demon is approaching soon ... doesn't sound like the odds are in his favor, though. Oooo and do Faith and Lindsey have a long distance romance brewing? VERY long distance ... Hey, at least he didn't ask her sign ... yet. heehee. And how about Faith being the Slayer-general? What do you think about that? Did Buffy do the right thing? And is Spike gonna 'deal' with having Angelpie in the house or will Bess have to stomp on his toe? A 'behind the scenes' side note: I orignally planned on having the kids change the kitten's name to pacify Spike, but her name just grew on me and she is Wanda's proxy so, Spike's gonna have to deal, or get his toe stomped. I can't wait until Angel finds out Spike has a cat named after him ... :O ... Will have more soon!
I'll Be Your Man by Passion4Spike
Author's Notes:
The big fight is coming up, Buffy tries to help Spike be ready for it. Will he appreciate her ‘help’? Will Angelpie incur more rath from Spike (uhh - well, yeah! duh!)
**
Music Referenced:
I’ll Be Your Man, James Blunt http://youtu.be/IUkLOUNxP8A
 **
ScreenCaps courtesy of ScreenCap Paradise: http://www.screencap-paradise.com/?cat=3
**
Thanks to 'epd4' for betaing this chapter. Any mistakes are mine because I can't stop fiddling ...
(Next Day) Thursday, December 30th, 2010, 11:00am, at the mansion:
 
“Hey, Li’l B!” Faith called to Bess as the girl passed the door of the training room where Faith was working out.
 
Bess stopped and turned back, aborting her path towards the garden doors, where Xander was working on hanging new French doors. He’d asked her to give him a hand getting them into place and holding them steady while he shimmed and leveled them.
 
“Yeah?” Bess called, stepping into the room.
 
“Busy?” Faith questioned as she punched half-heartedly at the heavy bag that hung from the ceiling.
 
“Uhhh … I’m supposed to help Xander…” Bess offered, looking back over her shoulder to see if he was ready for her yet.
 
“It’ll only take a minute … come in – close the door,” Faith requested.
 
Bess pulled the door closed behind her and stepped up to where Faith was still punching lightly at the bag.
 
“You know,” Faith started as she tilted her head, silently asking Bess to hold the bag for her. “You and I are a lot alike …”
 
Bess got on the back side of the bag and held it still as Faith hit it harder. “We are?”
 
“Yeah … you know … free spirits. Not fools for love, like Buffy and Spike. We’re not tied down by all the insanity of true love and romance and all that crap like they are,” Faith explained.
 
“Oh …”
 
“I mean … honestly! Have you watched them? Have you noticed the way Buffy sidles up next to him on the couch and how he slips his arm around her shoulders when they’re watching TV? Or the way Spike twirls one finger in her hair after she does that … round and round like he was hypnotized by it or something – geez, give me a break. Or the gooey way they look at each other when Princess Fiona gives up her royal life, defies her family, and stays an ogre just to be with Shrek?” Faith rolled her eyes. “How many times can you watch Shrek, anyway?”
 
“I think … I think Annie likes that movie…” Bess pointed out, but Faith just ignored her.
 
“We’re hunters … solitary hunters. We see what we want … take it; Want, take, have,” Faith continued in a conversational tone. “We’re Slayers … true Slayers, in the sense of what that used to mean, when there was only one – we stand alone.”
 
Bess pulled her lips in between her teeth and listened, but didn’t respond as she continued holding the bag and Faith punched and kicked harder.
 
“Buffy and Spike … they totally don’t get that. Buffy’s always had her little Scooby gang and her boyfriends fighting with her … first Angel, then Spike … Pffffft!” Faith snorted. “Slayers aren’t supposed to have Scooby gangs, they aren’t supposed to have relationships – you and I know that. All those strings, all those feelings … people pulling you in a hundred different directions, always having to worry about them. That’s not how we’re built, you and I.”
 
“No?” Bess questioned with a slight furrow in her brow as she made a mental note of Buffy’s first boyfriend’s name … Angel. That’s why Spike doesn’t like the name…

 

“No way,” Faith continued confidently. “And don’t get me started on love … I mean, that’s just what a Slayer needs! Her heart getting all fluttery, bursting with some kind of crazy joy or something when some guy walks in the room! Please! How lame is that? Totally distracting is what it is; it’ll get you in nothing but trouble, take it from me. Nope – want, take, have,” Faith repeated, “… that’s us – you and me. We don’t go for flowers and love notes and being serenaded in the moonlight and long walks on the beach … that’s all saccharine bullshit. ‘Wham, bam, thank you, Sam … now get the hell out’. That’s us.”
 
When Bess didn’t say anything, Faith continued. “I mean, who wants to go to the effort of talking to a guy, getting to know them, actually trying to connect with their brains? Did you know that, in hockey, a protective cup for a guy’s balls was first used in 1874, but the first helmet for their heads wasn’t used until 1974? What does that tell you about what part of a guy’s anatomy is most important?”
 
Bess suppressed a small laugh. “Is that true?”
 
“As I live and breathe,” Faith assured her, raising her right hand in oath. “Don’t worry about Buffy and Spike, kiddo … you hang with me, keep doing what you’re doin’ and you’ll be fine. You won’t have to worry about all that mushy love and romance or comforting support from someone who’d do absolutely anything for you getting in your way. You won’t have to worry about finding your soul mate and feeling that empty glass inside you fill up with sweet, red wine and intoxicate you with joy. Nope – we’re tough, and we don’t need any of that sappy shit – not us.”
 
Bess furrowed her brow but nodded lightly. She was afraid Faith was wrong … she wasn't sure about that intoxicating feeling the other Slayer spoke of, but she knew the joy of love. She loved Angelpie like the kitten was her baby … and she was pretty sure she loved Sue-Ann in a best friend sort of way, and she was very sure she loved Buffy and Spike and Annie, Dani, and Billy, and even MacKenzie, even though the baby didn’t seem to do much more than eat, slobber, and make very smelly poop … then laugh about it, in a family sort of way.  She’d never loved a man … not in that gooey, intoxicating way that Faith spoke of, not like Buffy and Spike loved each other, but would that really be so bad? Besides Bess, Buffy was the longest living Slayer in history, so something must be working … and she and Spike seemed genuinely happy … most of the time, anyway. And what was wrong with staying an ogre if it meant you could be with the person you truly loved?
 
“So – you just keep that in mind, ok L’il B? Just keep those guys at arm’s length … don’t let them get too close, you don’t want to risk all that fluttery, walking on air, stupid grin plastered on your face 24/7, love stuff,” Faith concluded, pretty sure she’d made her point … in a completely reverse psychology sort of way.
 
Faith sometimes wished her parents had figured out the theory of reverse psychology when she was young – because she was nothing if not a mirror … always doing the opposite of what was being shown to her or expected of her. It had taken her a long time to see the error in that … not that doing it her way was always wrong, but at times … at times it was. She hoped she could show Bess what she was missing … something that Faith only recently realized might have value, in a way that maybe the girl could get.  Buffy and Spike were often just too straightforward; ‘I say it, it’s true, therefore you will believe it’. Ideas presented like that might work for Annie or Billy … even Dani, who was a bit more of a rebel than the other two, but didn’t always sink in through the high defensive walls of someone like Bess … or Faith. Sometimes to hit your target, you have to aim a little off to one side to compensate for the crosswind of past experiences.


 
“Ok,” Bess agreed softly as she let go of the bag and headed for the door to see if Xander needed her yet. “I’ll certainly keep all that in mind.”
 
 
(Next night) Friday, December 31st, 2010, New Year’s Eve, 10:00pm:
 
Buffy and Spike were alone in the mansion. Finally. Completely, utterly, absolutely alone for the first time in he didn’t know when. Everyone had gone to Xander and Anya’s New Year’s Eve party to watch the ball drop in Times Square and ring in the New Year … 2011. Willow and Tara had even taken MacKenzie with them … not another living soul in the whole house, not even a termite … so why was Spike sitting alone on the couch watching the telly while Buffy was in the kitchen cleaning up? That’s what Spike would like to know, too … she’d been acting strangely most of the week. Distant, avoid-y.
 
Buffy finally trailed in from the other room and sat a mug of blood down on the coffee table for him before taking a seat on the opposite end of the couch. Spike rolled his eyes as he picked up the mug – Slayer blood, not pig’s blood, he could tell before even raising it to his lips. She’d gone down to the blood bank and had them draw her blood … she’d been serving it to him in his mug for three days now…
 
Not that he didn’t need it or appreciate it – because he did, on both counts. Anything to give him an edge over the Pele demon he would face tomorrow night was welcome, but this was just wrong, as Buffy would say. Half the joy of Slayer blood was sipping it directly from the beautiful chalice of the Slayer … he hadn’t even had a nibble … of anything, now since Tuesday. He was healed, his knee felt fine, his bruises and other injuries from the fight the previous Saturday night were completely gone – and yet, here he sat; drinking Slayer blood from a novelty mug while the actual Slayer sat on the opposite end of the couch pretending to be completely engrossed in the documentary that had just come on Animal Planet … ‘A Day in the Life of an Earthworm’.

 

“Amazin’, innit?” Spike asked dryly.
 
“Yeah … who know they could breathe through their skin like that …” Buffy agreed.
 
“That’s not what I meant…”
 
“Oh – that they can live for six years in captivity?” Buffy wondered. “Who, exactly, keeps earthworms as pets, anyway?”

 

“Probably the same poor sods that keep bloody hermit crabs … but that’s not what I meant…”
 
“That they don’t have eyes but can detect light? How do they do that … with their skin or something? So they can see and breathe with the same organ?” Buffy wondered idly. “That would be handy though … if I could see with my lungs, then guys might actually look me in the eye when they talked to me…”
 
“Noooo … three strikes, Slayer, you’re out,” Spike informed her, rolling his eyes.
 
“What then?” she asked, finally looking at him.
 
“That even earthworms get shagged … unlike certain vampires and Slayers,” Spike clarified.
 
Buffy’s face flushed slightly and she shifted uneasily in her seat. “You have sex … we have sex all the time … well, not all the time … but … like … lots of times.”
 
“But not of late…” Spike pointed out.

 

Buffy shrugged and wrapped her arms around her torso. “Look…” she began, pointing at the TV, “…they can tell when a robin is hopping around looking for them… that’s a neat power to have … if you’re a worm.”
 
Spike raised his brows and clicked the TV off with the remote.
 
“Hey! I was watching that!” Buffy objected. “They were just getting to the exciting part about composting…”
 
“What the bloody hell is wrong with you, Slayer?” Spike questioned, turning in his seat to face her. “Did I do something to offend? Say something wrong? Tell a tale out of school? Didn’t wash the dishes ‘fore I put ‘em in the dishwasher? Stole the prize outta your cereal box?”
 
“No … nothing’s wrong. I’m fine; we’re fine…” Buffy assured him, reaching for the remote to turn the TV back on.
 
Spike grabbed her wrist when she reached towards the remote and pulled her hand farther – past where the clicker sat on the seat between them, to his lap. He pressed her palm down against his erection as he watched her eyes; he could see the desire flash in them even as she jerked her hand away like she’d just touched hot coals.
 
“Buffy … what the bloody hell is wrong with you?” Spike tried again. “Are you … is something wrong?” he asked with concern, looking down briefly to her lap and then back up again.
 
“No! No … nothing’s wrong – I’m fine …” Buffy rolled her eyes and sighed, her shoulder’s slumping. She’d been trying to be strong for him … he wasn’t making it easy.
 
“Ok … ya got me, then, Slayer – you won’t even touch me. Do I smell funny?” Spike wondered, lifting an arm and sniffing. “I took a shower …”
 
Buffy rolled her eyes again. “No … you smell fine …”
 
“Then please tell me what’s going on in that noggin o’ yours … ‘cos I can’t suss you out,” Spike begged.

 

Buffy looked up at the ceiling a moment, before turning her eyes back to him. “It’s just … well, you’ve got that fight tomorrow night and … well … you know,” Buffy explained with a shrug.
 
Spike waited a moment for her to continue, then shook his head. “No … I don’t know.”
 
Buffy looked at him like he was stupid or something, shaking her head and rolling her eyes. “You know … fighters … football players … athletes that need to be all mean and … ‘grrr-arrgh’ … they aren’t supposed to have sex before a competition. It … weakens you … you know – your knees or something,” Buffy clarified.
 
Spike laughed in relief and dropped his head back against the headrest, so he was looking up at the ceiling now. They really should paint some pictures up there … like the Sistine Chapel … maybe they could start pinning some of the kid’s drawings to the ceiling, the fridge was getting a bit overwhelmed with artwork, anyway.
 
“What? It’s not funny! I’m trying to … help. You don’t want to go in there and have weak knees and just … collapse or something!” she defended, angry that he was laughing at her.
 
Finally, he raised his head and looked at her, shaking his head slightly. Only Buffy … only Buffy would go to all that trouble, get her blood drawn, watch earthworm documentaries, keep her own desires under lock and key, to help him. “Old wife’s tale … maybe old coach’s tale, luv… complete bollocks, that is,” Spike assured her. “Makin’ love to you only makes me stronger …”
 
Buffy looked at him with a furrowed brow. “But … but I saw it on TV lots of times … they always say ‘no sex before the big game’ … I don’t … drain your energy?” she asked with a pout, her feelings slightly hurt ... well, maybe more than slightly.

 

Spike pursed his lips together to keep from grinning and making her mad. “For a bit … but you give back more than you take, luv. You give me a piece of your soul, a bit of your heart … all of your love – you give me strength, pet. You make me remember why … why I fight, why I’ll win – for you, for the bits.”
 
“Are you … sure?” she questioned with sincere concern. “‘Cos, it’s ok, I can … hold out. I mean … earthworms are very … totally interesting, in an unbelievably, utterly boring way. And composting! Wow! Can you believe how that works with the sitting there and just … sitting there? And … I think there’s a show about slugs later … also mind-numbingly dull.”
 
“C’mon over here, luv … and no worries ‘bout sapping my strength – trust me, feeling your body next to mine only makes me more wickedly invincible,” Spike enticed her over from the other end of the sofa, raking his tongue over his teeth and reaching a hand out again to pull her towards him.
 
“I don’t have to watch shows about earthworms anymore?” she wondered, looking at the dark TV screen.
 
“Never…” Spike assured her.
 
“Or slugs? Sloths?”
 
Spike shook his head, a bemused smile on his lips.
 
“Oh, thank God …” she breathed as she launched herself at him, catching him slightly off guard as she captured his lips with hers and wrapped her arms around his neck while she scrambled onto his lap.


 
It didn’t take Spike long to recover though and he wrapped his arms around her body and pulled her tighter against him. It seemed like forever since she’d touched him … it had only been four days, but she’d been acting so distant and he couldn’t suss it out … he thought he might’ve contracted cooties or something.
 
Spike found the hem of her shirt and pulled it up, their kiss breaking only briefly as the garment slid over her head and she flung it off, then she was pulling his shirt off and it joined hers on the floor by the Christmas tree. Their hands danced over the other’s flesh; Buffy’s body warm and supple under Spike’s palms; Spike’s hard and cool under hers. Spike expertly unhooked her bra and Buffy dropped it off her shoulders, then his hands were cupping her breasts as their tongues continued to cavort … dancing to a refrain only they could hear.
 
“God, Buffy …” he moaned against her lips as he began trailing his lips and tongue across her jaw to her neck, setting her body ablaze with desire. Her skin tingled, not just where he was touching her, but everywhere, it seemed. Her loins ached and contracted, yearning for him to fill her; her juices flowed, dampening her panties, soaking through to her jeans, sending her fragrance wafting up to drive him even more insane than he’d already been.
 
Spike caught one hot nipple between his lips and sucked down hard as he teased the other with a silken touch of a slender finger. Buffy’s back arched and a small cry escaped her throat as she pushed her hips down harder against his erection. She could feel his hardness through their clothes and she rubbed her pussy against him, which only succeeded in teasing her clit and fanning the flames that were building in both of them.
 
“Spike … need you,” Buffy moaned as she tangled her hands in his hair and pulled his mouth harder against her breast. Her hips jerked involuntarily against him. She felt like she would explode if she didn’t have him soon … watching earthworms mate wasn’t any easier on her than it had been on him.
 
Her name tumbled off his lips as a deep rumbling growl while his hands slid down to her jeans and easily opened the top button and slid the zipper down. Then his fingers were searching, sliding down her hot skin to find her damp folds and then … ignition ... blast off. Buffy screamed out and her body tightened and arched as his finger found her clit and the teasing ended as he tapped down on the raging bundle of nerves with ever increasing speed and pressure.
 
Spike’s fingertips felt like they were leaking magic out all over her skin and it had somehow seeped into her body and was, this very moment, devouring her with its power and beauty. There was no other explanation for the bright flashes of color that were bursting behind her closed lids as Spike brought her to orgasm with only his delicate hands, his slender fingers … they must hold magic … that’s all it could be. Spike drew his hand back and lifted it to her mouth, his fingers glistening with her honey. Buffy opened her eyes and met his as she slid her lips over his digits slowly, sucking him into her mouth, wrapping her tongue around and around, tasting herself on him; devouring them both. When she released him, Spike’s lips captured hers, his tongue replaced his fingers inside her glorious mouth where the taste and feel of her juices lingered on her tongue, her lips. Nirvana.

 

They both moaned in pleasure as his hand slipped back between them, his index finger sliding past her clit to tease the sensitive skin of her slick hole. Buffy’s hips jerked against him and she pulled back from the kiss and leaned her upper body back until her shoulder blades touched his legs, giving him more room to work as he caressed her with that magical touch…

 

Spike gazed down on her – her back arched, her breasts swaying, bouncing, her hair hanging down towards the floor like a golden waterfall, her face contorted in delectable pleasure. His other hand reached out and brushed one nipple and her body spasmed then undulated like a wave rolling in from the sea. His thumb found her clit as his long fingers continued to tease her throbbing hole and Buffy screamed out again as more brilliant, colorful fireworks exploded within her and chill bumps covered her skin, embracing every inch of her like a diaphanous, magical lover.
 
Then they were on the floor … Buffy didn’t remember how they got there, had they fallen or had Spike lowered them down? She didn’t know … magic, perhaps. Spike was tugging her jeans the rest of the way off and she was kicking and wriggling out of them and then those fingers were touching her again and she gasped as they slid in, one, then two … then his pinky pressed into her puckered hole and she moaned his name … low and gravely with unabashed lust.
 
“Tell me what you want, pet…” he murmured as he finger fucked her ass and pussy, but she couldn’t tell him anything at that moment because what she wanted right then was exactly what he was doing. She could only moan his name and call to God. Was it a prayer of gratitude or a plea that this feeling never end that she sent to the heavens? Not even she knew … it was just what rolled from her lips, this was heaven on earth and Spike was the wizard that could transport her there with just a touch.
 
His other hand found her clit and Buffy’s hands came up to her breasts, pulling, twisting, ravaging her hard, sensitive nubs as Spike’s fingers invaded her and lifted her higher … up above the bright fireworks that were exploding above them to heaven itself. A scream ripped from her throat and her prayers and moans were slashed from her lips, replaced by the primal cry of a woman taken beyond the stars by her lover, her husband, her friend … her soul mate.
 
Spike watched her rise higher and higher. He could feel her supple walls tighten around his fingers – her pussy throbbed and clamped down on him, her ass tightened, silently begging him to stay … don’t pull out, don’t go, don’t stop. Then she screamed and her whole body convulsed in pleasure so intense that he wasn’t sure how she kept it from ripping her apart – but he knew, it was the scream that kept that from happening; otherwise the bliss would explode within her. He briefly thought that would be his choice for how to go out of this world … when the time came, to simply explode with bliss.
 
When the brilliant lights busting within her subsided, Buffy's eyes fluttered open and she was met by Spike’s. When had he moved? When had he shed his own jeans? She didn’t know, but now he was above her, looking down, watching her. His blue eyes were burning with a brilliant flame of lust and love, and there were flashes of gold which seemed to glitter and sparkle within the field of blue. Spike’s body pressed against her and she welcomed his hardness into her aching core as they fell together. Magic danced between their eyes … blue and green locked together, neither wavering, as he slid into her and she engulfed him, surrounded him with her desire.

 

“Spike …”
 
“Buffy …”
 
Their moans of the other’s name was music … sweet, beautiful, lyrical … magical.
 
Buffy wrapped her arms around his back … his hard muscles tensed and his skin quivered under her touch as they both began to move together. For many moments, the only sound that could be heard was the tenor of their bodies as he slid in and out of her wet pussy … which struggled to keep him in, to pull him back; the sound of their flesh touching … sticking slightly with perspiration, then pulling apart with a small sucking sound, and their labored breathing. It was an age-old melody that never grew tiresome, no matter how many times they sang it. As their passion grew, the dance changed; the melody morphed and the delicate lilt was overpowered by a more raucous refrain.

 

Flesh slapped against flesh as the tempo of their lovemaking quickened, Spike’s balls smacked hungrily against Buffy’s ass, his hips slammed against her as he drove his cock deeper, harder into her burning womanhood. Their gasps and moans and cries were the harmonious chorus which lifted their chant of love and lust and desire up to the heavens and beyond. Their song filled the empty house with bliss … with joy and passion and it seemed to revel in it as if it could feel their love and passion. The beleaguered mansion, which had seen them at their best and at their worst, added its own voice to the symphony … somewhere a curtain fluttered in the breeze coming in the window, ice dropped from the maker into the half-full tray, a motor on some appliance whirled to life, a joist creaked and moaned as it settled against its sister, and the grandfather clock at the top of the stairs began to sound its countdown to the New Year.
 
But the lovers didn’t hear the familiar sounds of the old house – they only heard the other’s aria as their symphony crested. Their bodies climaxed together as the powerful crescendo threatened to drown them with its resonance and reverberated through the mansion. Their voices merged, somehow magically melding into one glorious zenith, as the baritone of Spike’s deep roar and the soprano of Buffy’s passionate scream escaped their throats and blanketed them both with the love and power of the other’s orgasm.
 
Buffy clung to Spike as her body arched and quivered under him, her sugar walls tightening around his hardness almost painfully and pulling him deeper as her legs held him prisoner with their strength and power. Spike’s cum surged into her, filling her tight channel with his essence as they both found paradise in each other’s arms. Colorful pixies danced on their bare skin as the Christmas tree lights blinked and blazed nearby … was it a sacrilege to have sex under the Christmas tree? Was Santa taking notes? This would definitely get them on the ‘naughty’ list … no doubt about it. Dear Santa, define ‘good’.
 
Buffy giggled joyously as she finally loosened her grip on Spike, freeing him from the tangle of her limbs as he settled his body down gently atop hers and wrapped his fingers in her golden mane. He gave her a smile as he dropped soft kisses on her face … trying to capture the dancing colors from the tree that glistened on her damp skin with his lips.
 
“So … are you the Caped Crusader now? … Ready to leap tall buildings in a single bound? Faster than a speeding bullet? Or do I have more work to do?” Buffy teased.
 
Spike laughed and pulled back to look at her face. He loved that look on her – hair mussed, skin rosy and flushed, damp with perspiration, eyes dilated from their naturally-occurring drug of choice. “You’re mixin’ your superheroes pet … Batman was the Caped Crusader … Superman leaped the buildings.”
 
“Oh,” she pouted lightly. “You know, I never understood that leaping the buildings thing … I mean, Superman could fly … why would he need to leap over anything? He could just … you know … fly over it.”
 
Spike nodded and rested his head down next to hers. “A valid question, pet … one which I reckon I got no answer for.”
 
Buffy ran her hands up and down Spike’s back, gliding them softly over his flesh, down to his firm ass cheeks and then back up to his strong shoulders as the two fell silent for a few moments. The whole house seemed to sigh contentedly with them.
 
“So …” Buffy asked softly, “…what invincible superhero are you?”
 
Spike lifted back up and looked her in the eye. “I’m your man … that’s all I need t’ be.”
 
Tears stung Buffy’s eyes and she ran a finger lightly down from his scared brow, across one sharp cheekbone to his lips. “You don’t have to do this, Spike … we can find another way to get money,” she whispered to him. "I know Scrunchies sound crazy ... but I swear..."
 
Spike shook his head slightly. “I've no doubt 'bout your crazy hair baubles, pet, but I have to do this, Buffy … if not for you, then for me,” he countered. “I can win.”
 
“Spike … he’s a fire demon … you’re a very combustible vampire,” she pointed out unnecessarily. “Please … you won’t be any good to anyone sitting in a fancy urn up on the mantle collecting dust mites.”
 
“No worries, pet,” Spike assured her, dropping a soft kiss on her forehead. “Don’t intend to find my inner dust-bunny anytime soon… You’d keep me in a fancy urn up on the mantle?” he asked with a look of awe.
 
Buffy rolled her eyes. “Or a shoebox under my bed – which do you prefer?”
 
Spike wagged his brows at her and gave her a teasing smile.
 
“You’re insufferable… I’m serious,” Buffy moaned.
 
“I know you are, pet … trust me, yeah? I know what I’m doin’. He’s not made of bloody fire, not a soddin’ dragon … doesn’t breathe it … just conjures it ... only in his fists, best I can find. And, I have it on good authority he’s not invincible,” Spike continued to assure her.
 
“And you know that how?” Buffy wondered.

 

Spike shrugged. “Well, first off, he’s not the Slayer’s man. Bet he didn’t even get laid t’night, right dangerous that’d be for some unlucky bird … what with the palms bursting into flames bit…” Spike offered.
 
Buffy laughed and shook her head despite her worry, which, regardless of Spike’s assurances, was only growing as the hours ticked by and they got closer to the bout. “You know, if you dust, I’ll kick your crumbly ass.”
 
“I’ve no doubt, Slayer.”
 
**~**
 
(later that night, New Year’s Eve) Saturday, January 1st, 2011, 1:00am:

 

The giddy revelers clattered noisily down the garden steps and through the new French doors, spilling into the great room and filling the once peaceful space with commotion. The kids had noisemakers, which they blew incessantly, and the adults struggled to talk over the racket. How MacKenzie and Eddie remained asleep, neither Willow nor Tara knew … but thankfully, they had.
 
Buffy and Spike looked up from the couch where they were sitting, talking quietly, watching the fire dance in the hearth and the lights twinkle on the Christmas tree. The kids surrounded them and wished them Happy New Year as they blew their noisemakers and tossed confetti on their parents.
 
Buffy and Spike laughed and instinctively ducked the confetti as it rained down on them and embedded in their hair and slid down their shirts, covering the couch and floor all around them with a dusting of sparkly dots and shapes of little hats and ‘2011s’. Spike growled, jumped up and grabbed the closest Party Demon to him – Dani, and lifted her high into the air, swinging her around as if such a tactic would actually scare her or convey even a drop of annoyance from him. She squealed in delight and begged, ‘Do it again!’ when he set her back down … when would he ever learn?
 
When she was finally able to get a word in above the ruckus, Annie asked, “Did you make noise at midnight to scare the bad spirits away and attract the god of wealth and fortune?”

 

Buffy raised her brows. “It looks like you guys made enough noise to scare every evil spirit within ten miles away … and attract the god of hullabaloos…”
 
“Moooom!” she moaned, “I’m serious! Everyone knows you have to make noise to keep the evil spirits out of the New Year … please tell me you did it!”
 
Buffy looked at Spike and bit her bottom lip as she cleared her throat. “I think we’re safe … we … uhhhh … might’ve made some noise about that time,” she assured her daughter.

 

“Oh, thank goodness! Billy wanted to come back and bring you some noisemakers, but Willow and Tara wouldn’t let us. Did you light some firecrackers or bang on some pots and pans or …” Annie stopped when she saw the look pass between her parents. “Oh … that noise,” she moaned, rolling her eyes.
 
“What noise did you make, Mama?” Billy asked. “I said we should come back, but no one would listen to me…”
 
Buffy smiled at her son and ruffled his curls. “We set off some fireworks…” Buffy explained innocently.
 
Billy started to say something about being sorry he’d missed that when he was interrupted by a loud screeching noise followed by the Christmas tree wavering, as if caught in a strong wind, then suddenly toppling over and crashing to the ground, just barely missing Dani who was standing nearby. Everyone jumped back and squealed in surprise as ornaments shattered and the lights flickered once then died.
 
“What the bloody hell?” Spike questioned, pushing Annie back behind him and pulling Dani away as he and Buffy started moving cautiously towards the possessed tree. Willow and Tara kept the other kids back, moving MacKenzie and Eddie, both still sleeping in their carriers, well back out of the line of fire. Bess stepped past the witches and began closing on the tree from the opposite side from Buffy and Spike, but they all stopped short when the demon that caused the destruction showed itself …
 
“What the…” Buffy started but was cut off …
 
“Angelpie!” Bess scolded as the kitten casually sauntered out of the mangled limbs and brightly colored debris field, perfectly proud of herself for climbing all the way to the top of the tree and besting it.

 

“Bloody hell!” Spike exclaimed again. “This! This is the very reason I said no bloody Angelpie in this soddin’ house!”
 
Bess scooped the kitten up and checked her for injuries, but the kitten was fine and purred happily as she rubbed the top of her head against her human’s chin.
 
“She didn’t mean it …” Bess defended. “I’ll … clean it up … replace the broken…”
 
“That’s not the bloody point!” Spike retorted angrily as Buffy put her hand on his arm to try and calm him down. It wasn’t that big a deal … she didn’t think. She hoped none of the ornaments the kids had made over the years had gotten broken, but … well, that’s what they made superglue for. It would make a cute story … one day.
 
Bess shrank from his outburst and held Angelpie protectively, backing up a step away from the angry vampire. “She’s sorry…”
 
“As well she should be! She’s a whole bloody hour late with the royal ruckus! If your mum and me hadn’t been ‘ere, the whole soddin' house woulda been filled with evil spirits! Can’t trust anything named Angel t’ get the bloody job done properly!” Spike chastised.
 
“I said I’d …” Bess began to defend again when his words actually sunk in. She looked at him with confusion then saw a small smile playing on his lips and she blew out a sigh of relief. “You have the strangest sense of humor that I’ve ever encountered in a hundred years …” Bess informed him.

 

Spike shrugged. “Now, if the little nipper was named ‘Spike’, I reckon she’d a’ brought the whole bloody house down and on bloody time.”
 
Spike wrapped an arm around her shoulders and hugged Bess against his side as he ran a hand gently down the demon kitten’s back. “Happy New year, pet…”
 
Bess laughed and shook her head as she looked around at the faces of her family. Some had started picking up the undamaged ornaments, Tara had gotten a broom and a dustpan and started sweeping up the shards of broken glass and dropped pine needles, Buffy was gently picking the tree back up and righting it in its stand. Everyone was talking at once and laughing and working together to get things put back right, and Bess suddenly knew she was really home.
 
Despite what Faith had said, there was love in her heart and the walls had, if not fallen, at least weakened a bit, and that was okay. These people weren’t gonna send her away … they weren’t gonna withdraw their love from her; they might have disagreements, but wasn’t that to be expected in any family? Certainly they could work through them.  
 
Spike, she was sure, was certifiably crazy … he should probably be on medication.
 
“Happy New year … Dad,” she offered quietly as she leaned against his side.
 
Spike closed his eyes a moment and let that sink in … Dad. Yep … the crazy apple didn’t fall far from the crazy tree … even if that tree was a toppled Christmas tree on New Year’s Eve.

  

**~**

{{Click here to hear “I’ll Be Your Man”, James Blunt on YouTube  }}

 
Too many voices
Too many noises
Invisible wires keeping us apart
So many choices
Some disappointments
And they only steal me away from you
Climb into our private bubble
Let’s get into all kinds of trouble

[Chorus]

Slide over here let your hands feel the way
There’s no better method to communicate
So girl stop your talking
Words just get in the way

I’ll be your man
So baby come over
From the end of the sofa
I’ll be your man
I’ll be your man

So many faces
Staring at their shoelaces
When all anyone want is to be seen
Well tonight let’s be honest
We all want to be wanted
And darlin’ you’ve got me wantin’ you
Everything that I’m trying to say
Just sounds like a worn out cliche, so…

[Chorus]

What are we all looking for?
Someone we just can’t ignore
It’s real love dripping from my heart,
You’ve got me tripping
What are we all looking for?
Ooooh…

[Chorus]
End Notes:
TBC ... ok, the stalling is over - the fight will be next ...or, ok ... part of the fight- 'cos you know my muse can't just do the whole thing without an evil cliffie in there ... :P Will Spike win? I must tell you that my muse and I are in disagreement on this point, so I really don't know who will win this one... I love Spike and, of course, hope he wins; my muse, on the other hand, likes to torture me and Spike and Buffy ... and you. Let's just hope he doesn't dust! (Spike that is, not my muse ... although some of you may wish for my muse to dust before it's over)... eeek!
Don't Stop Believin' by Passion4Spike
Author's Notes:
It’s New Year’s Day – Spike’s championship fight is tonight. Can he really win against all odds or will this be his most spectacular failure ever?
**Music Referenced:
Don’t Stop Believin’, Journey http://youtu.be/rfUYuIVbFg0
  **
ScreenCaps courtesy of ScreenCap Paradise: http://www.screencap-paradise.com/?cat=3
**
Thanks to 'epd4' for betaing this chapter. Any mistakes are mine because I can't stop fiddling ...
(Next Day) Saturday, January 1st, 2010, 1:00pm at the mansion:

 

“Ok … so what do you need to do for this one?” Willow asked Bess, pointing to the computer screen.
 
“‘Three equals nine minus ‘x’ ….” Willow read off the equation.
 
“Ok … so I have to subtract three from nine … which is six, so ‘x’ equals six,” Bess replied confidently as she studied the simple algebra problem on the computer screen. “Three equals nine minus six,” she summarized.
 
“Right! See? It’s not that hard once you know what to do,” Willow encouraged the girl.
 
Bess smiled proudly … it really wasn’t that hard, it was just math … with a mystery. It was Sherlock Holmes math.
 
“Ok … this one’s a little tougher,” Willow continued as the next equation came up on the screen from the ‘Basic Algebra’ program the computer whiz had installed on Buffy’s computer.
 
“Ten equals two ‘x’,” Willow read. “Now what does it mean if the letter and number are next to each other like that?”
 
“Multiply … so I have to divide ten by two, which is five … so ‘x’ is five,” Bess calculated aloud.
 
“Perfect! Who said you weren’t a math whiz!? You’re totally good at this,” Willow continued to encourage her. Yeah, they were simple problems, but you had to start with simple before you got to hard; you had to crawl before you run.
 
Bess sat back in her chair and smiled. Maybe she could actually do this.
 
“Whatcha doing?” Buffy asked as she walked in from the hall. She’d been cleaning and dusting and straightening knick-knacks, she even spent an hour rearranging the kitchen cabinets and alphabetizing the spices … anything to keep her mind off tonight’s fight. Spike was sleeping … when he got up, she’d spar with him a little bit, just a light warm up, then another mug of Slayer blood and then … Pele. Buffy’s stomach was in knots… in fact, the knots were in knots … it was a whole festival of knotty knots in there; she preferred naughty knots … they were way more fun.
 
Willow and Bess turned to look at Buffy, both smiling. “Bess asked me to show her how math with letters worked … I downloaded a program onto your computer for her to use to practice,” Willow explained. “She’s doing really great.”
 
Buffy’s brows went up slightly. Bess had never asked her to show her math with letters … which, granted, was probably a good thing, but … Oh, get over it!
 
“That’s terrific!” Buffy gushed, still wondering what brought on the sudden interest in math.
 
“I thought …” Bess answered the unasked question. “…maybe later … I could try that GED thing again.”
 
Now Buffy’s brows really did go up. “Really? I mean … sure! Anytime you’re ready – you just let me know. No pressure,” Buffy added quickly, “… just … you know, when you’re ready.”

 

“I’ll see if I can get through this ... program … and Annie’s gonna help me with the computer, too,” Bess explained. She’d actually asked Annie about the math with letters, but, although Annie knew what it was, they hadn’t actually done it yet in school. Her sister advised Bess to ask Aunt Willow … she was the smartest math person she knew.
 
“You’ll do great,” Willow assured her. “If you can’t get it, then just click here where it says ‘show me’ and it’ll walk you through it, then it’ll give you another question just like it for you to try again. And, if you get really stuck, you can just call me. I got your mom through algebra one and two in high school, which was … wow … a crazy whirligig of fun, let me tell ya. If she can do it …” Willow stopped talking when she saw Buffy’s frown. “What meant is … your mom did great … picked it up just like that!” she amended, snapping her fingers.
 
Buffy rolled her eyes and sighed. “What she means is, if I can do it, a trained chimp could do it…”
 
“Actually, some chimps have been shown to have excellent natural mathematical acumen … uhhhh ….” Willow paused again. “But … I’m sure you guys are way smarter than chimps … way, way smarter.”
 
Bess didn’t hold any illusions about becoming a veterinarian, but she thought she might be able to be an assistant one day. She’d done many of the things at Dr. Lowenbram’s office that his assistant Darlene did except the bookwork and assisting with surgery … she’d even given shots and taken some x-rays with supervision. If she could get her GED maybe … maybe she could actually go to college and get a job, a real job that she could be proud of.
 
**~**
 
(That night) Saturday, January 1st, 2010, 8:45pm, at the fight club:
 
Spike had tried to get Mr. Andreev to give him (or even let him buy) four tickets to the bout, but the boss would only let go of two per fighter. Buffy had really wanted to bring Faith, Willow, and Giles with her to the fight … just in case. In case of what, she didn’t know … but figured with that line-up, they could handle just about anything that came up. But with only two tickets, she had to make a choice. Of course, she could’ve nicked a couple more, as she and Faith had done previously, but was a little afraid someone might notice that there were three other people with her rather than just the one, and start asking questions. Spike said Mr. Andreev had eyes and ears everywhere. So, in the end, Buffy chose Faith to accompany her to the fight again. If the fight had to be stopped, and Spike didn’t keep his word and stay down when she told him to … well, she thought Faith would be the best one to have at her side.
 
Willow prepared a magical potion for Buffy that she thought would take down the invisible barrier between the fighters and the spectators, she also created a magical ‘fire extinguisher’ of sorts, which should quell the flames if Spike were to be set on fire. Of course, they were untested and Buffy hoped she wouldn’t need them to save Spike’s life; Spike didn’t know she and Willow had done any of that. She hoped, she prayed, that Spike was right; that this Pele guy wasn’t invincible … that he didn’t breathe fire and wouldn’t, with one wave of his arm, simply engulf her husband in flames. Spike kept telling her not to worry – have a bit of faith, he had a ‘reliable source’ for information about this demon, his methods, his weaknesses, his strengths. Plus, Spike pointed out, he had watched Pele fight before on the closed circuit TV in the locker room; but then, the fire demon would’ve most likely also watched Spike fight before, as well.
 
Now Buffy stood ‘ringside’ and chewed nervously on her thumbnail while Faith placed their bets at the window. The Pele demon was the odds on favorite, but it was clear that no one was counting Spike out, despite his obvious handicap against the fire demon. Pele’s odds were 1:2, Spike’s were 2:1. Not as wonderful a payday as that ten-to-one payout Buffy had gotten last week, but there were no rumors flying this time about Spike’s wellbeing (or lack thereof) to influence them. Of course, if Spike won, the wager she was making of $8,000, which would bring back $24,000, would look like chump change compared to the half million he stood to win.
 
The bell rang, announcing only ten minutes left to place bets, and Buffy jumped as if she’d been shot. She would’ve so much have rather been the one fighting than the one standing by like a slug doing nothing. She briefly wondered if they had tag team events … fighting with Spike would be so much less stressful than standing up here watching.
 
Suddenly, heavy gates dropped over the betting windows, making Buffy jump again. She turned in time to see Faith sauntering back towards her, stuffing the betting ticket down into the front pocket of her jeans. Despite the jeans, Faith had worn her pearls tonight ... over a tight black tank-top which reveled many (but not all) of her 'horny man bait' tattoos. The look was ... well, very Faith.
 
“Relax, B,” Faith coaxed as she pressed in next to Buffy at the railing, shoving a fur-clad supermodel-wannabe out of the way and making the woman stumble on her six inch stiletto heels and fall against her date, who didn’t seem to mind.
 
“Yeah, easy for you to say. It’s not your flammable husband down there,” Buffy grumbled, holding her ground as someone on the other side of her tried to muscle up to the railing as the announcer came into the pit below them.
 
“Spike’s smart … he’s strong, a good fighter – he looks like he knows what he’s doing,” Faith assured her.
 
“Yeah, well … looks can be deceiving,” Buffy pointed out as she began chewing on her other thumbnail.
 
“Which is why we’re here,” Faith continued. “The worst that can happen is we break down the barrier, jump into the fight, kick some Pele ass and get Spike disqualified,” Faith assured her. “Then, he gets totally pissed at both of us, tosses us out of the house into the cold. Homeless and penniless, we eat from dumpsters, catch pneumonia and die a horrible death on the streets… but at least we’ll have each other.”
 
“Oh, that’s a comfort!” Buffy exclaimed, finally looking at Faith who had a mischievous grin on her face. “You should be a greeting card writer with those warm and fuzzy skills…” Buffy advised, rolling her eyes.
 
“Right, huh? I can’t imagine why Hallmark hasn’t called me … I’d totally rock,” Faith agreed laughing.



Buffy’s eyes went back to the pit below as Spike and the Pele demon stepped out into view. Spike had on his jeans and nothing else; no t-shirt, no belt, no shoes, no rings, not even his wedding band. He scanned the crowd quickly and found her, their eyes locking across the expanse of the ring.

‘No worries,’ he mouthed to her, unable to contact her through the bond. That magical barrier kept everything out, or in … depending on which side you were on.
 
‘I love you,’ she mouthed back to him and he gave her a little wink before turning his attention to the Pele Haleakala demon.

 

His opponent wasn’t really that much bigger than Spike. A bit taller, a bit broader … he might have three stone ten on the vamp, about fifty pounds, maybe a bit more, but it was all muscle, or muscle and gasoline, apparently. Spike had watched the fire demon fight before and knew that he could be hurt; he’d seen him get taken down by other opponents, the only problem was, even when he was down and apparently out of a fight, he could still conjure the fire in his fists. It didn’t take getting your skin scorched for long to make an opponent jump away from the demon and it only took your hair or clothing to be set on fire once to pretty much end the fight.
 
The Pele demon had fought a couple of other vamps on his road to the championship … they now lay in the cracks and crevices of the granite floor of the pit. Like kitty litter poured on the driveway to absorb oil dripped from leaky engines, the vamp’s dust now served to soak up the blood of the warriors that came after them. Spike was determined that his dust wouldn’t join them in that duty – he could win. He would win. He believed that fully.
 
The knots in Buffy’s stomach starting pulling tighter as the introductions ended and the ring announcer signaled the beginning of the bout. Oh God … it was really happening – now. This bout seemed so far away when she’d first learned of it a week ago … it was always ‘a few days’ or ‘a couple of days’ or ‘tomorrow’ … but it wasn’t some future event anymore – it was now.

Buffy watched helplessly as the two demons, who both looked pretty much like humans at the moment, circled each other warily, each looking for an opportunity to strike. The fact that the Pele demon hadn’t waved an arm and set Spike on fire was a comfort, at least. Buffy absently pressed her hand against the magical potions in her front pockets, making sure they were still there and ready, just in case.
 
Suddenly, as the warriors were sizing each other up, the Pele demon’s left hand exploded into a bright yellow flame.

 

“Right, then, entertain us,” Spike taunted as he jumped in the air and spun a powerful kick at the fire demon’s jaw.
 
The Pele demon caught Spike’s foot with his right hand, which was not engulfed in flames (yet) and flipped Spike head over heels backwards. Spike landed hard on the unforgiving granite but leapt back to his feet, despite the pain in his neck … a literal one, from landing on his neck and shoulders.
 
“Got a little extra mojo in them action figure muscles …” Spike observed. “No worries, mate … you ain’t the only one with a demon inside.”
 
Spike raced across the pit at the demon, hoping to catch his opponent off guard, and it worked, at first. Spike grabbed the Pele demon around the midsection and drove him back against the wall of the pit, slamming him into the rock. The demon’s head cracked against the stone wall of their ‘ring’ with a satisfying crunch. Spike released him, knowing that he needed to attack and retreat quickly, least he be caught with his opponent’s fiery fists. As Spike backed up, the Pele swung said fiery fist at him, catching Spike in the chest and scorching his left pectoral.

 

The stench of burning flesh wafted up to the crowd and Buffy cried out as if she’d been burnt herself. She was very happy that she hadn’t eaten anything today, otherwise her knotted stomach would’ve ejected it just now. Her hands covered her mouth in anxious fear as she watched, trying not to scream at her husband to just stop this insanity. The money wasn’t worth it … nothing was worth this! No amount of money could bring him back if he dusted; no amount of money could replace him. The crowd around her had no such restraint, however; they were screaming at the warriors, admonishing them to fight, to attack, to kill the other; it was hard to really tell who they were screaming at or rooting for – apparently they were simply rooting for a battle, for bloodshed – the outcome was secondary.
 
Spike jumped back further from the demon, patting a hand down on his sizzling flesh to make sure it hadn’t caught fire. It wasn’t severe enough to dust him, although it hurt like a son of a bitch – but it was worth it, he’d hurt the Pele too, Spike could smell blood.
 
Spike and the larger demon began to circle each other again, looking for an opening. When someone in the crowd accidentally dropped their drink over the railing, the glass shattered against the invisible force-field and the Pele demon looked up momentarily towards the sound. Spike took advantage of that distraction and moved forward quickly, swinging hard with his right fist aimed at the demon’s jaw. The Pele recovered quickly from the momentary wane in concentration and caught Spike’s hand in his and engulfed it in flames.

 

Spike tried to pull his fist back, but the large demon held tight as the fire began to envelop Spike’s hand and ignite the flesh of his arm. The vamp struggled in vain to pull his arm back, but the Pele’s grip was too strong. He could hear Buffy screaming above the din in the club … first she was yelling, “NOOOO!” then he heard her shrieking, “Kick! Kick him! Take his legs out!” … and Spike did.
 
Spike had to bring his whole body closer to the fire demon, which didn't fill him with joy, but it was his only chance. He swung one leg up in a powerful kick, landing soundly between the other demon’s legs, hoping that would get a ball-busting reaction from the larger man – it did. As the Pele’s knees buckled, his grip on Spike’s fist loosened and Spike pulled free. He cradled his burning hand against his stomach, trying to smother the flames while at the same time turning and planting a hard side-kick to the fire demon’s abdomen.
 
The larger demon ‘ooomphed’ and stumbled backwards as Spike’s foot hit what he hoped was his solar plexus … he could hear Buffy scream with relief, although the fear in her tone was still evident. It was funny how he could pick her voice out amid all the other screaming spectators … but it was unmistakable.
 
Buffy and Faith had gotten caught up in the excitement of the crowd and the fight. Faith succumbed to it first, naturally falling in with the other fight fans to encourage Spike; it took Buffy longer, but the electricity in the air and adrenaline pounding in her veins won out over her terror. Now they both screamed words of encouragement and advice, pounding their fists against the shatter-proof railing along with all the other spectators. Buffy had gotten so engrossed in the fight itself that she’d nearly forgotten the magical potions in her pocket … if she had remembered, she might’ve been tempted to use them in those moments when Spike had been held in the larger demon’s grip.
 
Buffy was caught between fear for her husband and pride. Part of her wanted to stop this whole thing – just forget it; it wasn’t worth the risk; another part of her wanted him to win, to kick that demon’s ass straight to hell where it apparently belonged.  At the moment, the kick-ass part of her was in control as she cheered him on and forced herself to ignore the blackened flesh peeling from his hand and lower arm where it had been caught by the fiery demon.
 
Spike could hear her screaming at him to ‘Kill the son of a bitch! Just fucking kill him!’ as the two combatants went back to circling each other warily. There was his Slayer … her dark demon side drawn out by the violence and bloodshed. It actually brought a small, smirky smile to his lips to hear her let go of her fear for his safety and just give into the primal excitement of it. His dark, fallen angel was in the house - he could feel her passion even through the magical barrier and it buoyed his confidence even more.
 
Sensing Spike’s mind was elsewhere, the Pele demon lunged forward at the vamp, both hands engulfed in flames, swinging his burning fists wildly, trying to make contact with skin, hair or fabric – anything that would burn.

 

But Spike actually wasn’t distracted at all, despite the smirk on his face, he was watching for the demon to make a move and was ready for him. Spike dropped down suddenly, just as the Pele demon reached him, and swept his legs out, catching the larger man between the knees and ankles and toppling him to the ground. Spike sprung back up in a millisecond, it seemed, and was stomping down violently on the fire demon’s face and chest with his feet.
 
Blood spurted from the downed demon’s nose and mouth, Spike could feel and hear ribs cracking and breaking under his assault. Just like most things that were not undead, the Pele demon had to breathe … that was his biggest weakness. All those big action figure muscles couldn’t do a bloody thing if they didn’t have oxygen … and everyone knows you can’t have fire without the big ‘O’. All Spike had to do was stop him from breathing while avoiding the fiery fists. The Pele demon, of course, had other ideas.
 
As Spike lifted his foot and lined it up with the larger demon’s throat, preparing for a killing blow that would obliterate his windpipe, the Pele demon reached up and grabbed hold of Spike’s foot and ankle and twisted with all the strength of those 'action figure' muscles.
 
Spike screamed out in pain as his knee wrenched in an unnatural angle before his whole body turned to follow the trajectory of his foot and ankle. Unable to pull free from the demon’s grip, Spike dropped to the ground with a hard thud, which would’ve knocked the wind out of him if he had actually needed wind in the first place. Spike reached for his painful, mangled knee, briefly wondering if there was some kind of conspiracy against his soddin' knees, as the Pele demon scrambled atop the downed vamp and locked his fingers around Spike’s throat.
 
Spike wrested his arms out from between their bodies where the larger demon was holding him down and reached up and clamped his hands around the Pele’s neck. The fire demon’s fists suddenly burst into flames around Spike’s neck. Spike could feel the heat licking his flesh hungrily, searing pain shot in all directions from his blazing throat as the larger demon pressed down harder and squeezed his fingers even tighter.
 
For a moment Spike thought that he wouldn’t have to worry about burning, because it felt like his head was about to be detached from his body by the larger demon. Spike could hear Buffy screaming, telling him to kick him off, and Spike tried, but with his one knee mangled, he had no power in it and his efforts to dislodge the Pele were easily thwarted. Spike summoned every ounce of strength he had and fought to crush the larger demon’s windpipe with his hands, but more pain shot out from his charred hand and fingers as he tried to tighten it around the demon’s throat.
 
To most of the spectators, it seemed like a Mexican standoff … each demon gripping the other by the throat, trying to strangle the life out of the other, but Buffy knew it was far from being an evenly balanced clash at this moment – Spike was losing – badly. The flames emanating from the Pele’s hands were starting to spread down Spike’s chest and up to his face. If he fully ignited, it would be over – not just this fight, but every fight, forever. Spike would be gone. Dust in the crevices of the granite floor … kitty litter.
 
Buffy pulled the magical potions from her pocket as she watched and waited … seconds ticked by. How many? She didn’t know. The demons were still at each other’s throats, neither seemed to be waning, but Spike couldn’t take the flames much longer … how much longer? How much longer could he hold out? She didn’t know.
 
“Throw it!” Faith urged her. “He’s gonna dust!”
 
Buffy looked quickly from the battle in the pit up to Faith’s eyes. There was fear there, genuine fear. Buffy couldn’t remember ever seeing that kind of fear in Faith’s eyes before… another second ticked by. Time seemed to grind to a halt, everything was in slow motion. Spike’s words hurtled through her mind, ‘Don’t underestimate me…’ he had admonished her … ‘I won’t,’ she’d promised. Did he still believe he could win? More importantly, did she? Buffy couldn’t reach him through the bond … he was still fighting, but he was losing.
 
Another second ticked. The demons continued to struggle, muscles bulged and quavered against the strain, blood poured from wounds, mixing with sweat and dripping onto the dirty granite below them. Neither noticed.

Another second ticked. The Pele’s face was turning red; was it from lack of oxygen or from the strain? Buffy didn’t know.  Spike was screaming and growling … roaring in pain and effort. Buffy couldn’t stand another second of it. She was going to lose him … their family was going to lose him. MacKenzie would never know him … their children would be devastated … for what? Money? Money couldn’t buy love. Money couldn’t give them what he could. Nothing could replace a father’s love, nothing.
 
Another second ticked…
 
Buffy felt like she was underwater – drowning; she could no longer hear the crowd, even though they were louder than ever; she couldn’t see anything but Spike … flames bit angrily at his face, his skin burnt, blackened; she couldn’t even feel anything, even as the whole building vibrated with the energy and passion of the spectators. It was like she was trapped in a bubble filled with thick, sticky syrup making every movement a monumental effort.
 
She slowly raised the pouch with the magical potion and poured the glittering black dust into her palm. It seemed like she could see each individual grain of the sparkling dust as it dropped from the satchel into her hand – slower than slow motion. She took a deep breath, preparing to blow the magical battering ram onto the barrier that separated them from Spike. Faith was poised to leap into the pit as soon as the barrier was down – ready to pull the Pele demon off Spike, to save him.
 
Don’t underestimate me, Slayer …
 
I won’t.
 
The world stopped spinning. Time stood still.

 

**~**

{{Click here to hear “Don’t Stop Believin’” by Journey on YouTube  }}


Don't stop believin'
Hold on to that feeling
Streetlight people
Oh-oh-woah

Don't stop believin'
Hold on
Streetlight people
Oh-oh-Woah

Just a small town girl
Livin' in a lonely world
She took the midnight train
Goin' anywhere
Just a city boy
Born and raised in South Detroit
He took the midnight train
Goin' anywhere

A singer in a smoky room
A smell of wine and cheap perfume
For a smile they can share the night
It goes on and on and on and on

Strangers waiting
Up and down the boulevard
Their shadows searching
In the night
Streetlights, people
Livin' just to find emotion
Hidin', somewhere in the night

Workin' hard to get my fill
Everybody wants a thrill
Payin' anything to roll the dice
Just one more time
Some will win
Some will lose
Some were born to sing the blues
Oh, the movie never ends
It goes on and on and on and on

Strangers waiting
Up and down the boulevard
Their shadows searching
In the night
Streetlights, people
Livin' just to find emotion
Hidin', somewhere in the night

Don't stop believin'
Hold on to the feelin'
Streetlights, people
Don't stop believin'
Hold on
Streetlights, people

End Notes:
Ok! Stop screaming! I can hear you now - 'You are such an evil BIT-CA!' ... Honestly, it's not me! It's my muse ... we're still fighting about the outcome of this bout ... I promise I'll post again just as soon as one of us caves! I have my own instruments of torture ... I think twenty-four hours of 'Mandy' on repeat might be weakening him ... Put away your pitchforks! Please? Go back to the top and look at that totally hot picture of Spike in the banner and you'll feel better ... that always makes me feel better ... :P
Saturday Night's Alright for Fightin' by Passion4Spike
Author's Notes:
Will Spike pay the ultimate price for Buffy’s hesitancy to stop the fight? What more could possibly go wrong? You'll soon find out...
**
Music Referenced:
Saturday Night’s Alright for Fighting, Elton John, http://youtu.be/26wEWSUUsUc
  **
ScreenCaps courtesy of ScreenCap Paradise: http://www.screencap-paradise.com/?cat=3
**
Thanks to 'epd4' for betaing this chapter. Any mistakes are mine because I can't stop fiddling ...
(next moments) Saturday, January 1st, 2010, 9:45pm at the fight arena:
 
Don’t underestimate me, Slayer …
 
I won’t.

 
**~**

 
 
Everything was moving in slow motion for Buffy – or maybe it was more like stop motion. Like when there’s a speck of dust or a smudge on the DVD you’re watching and the picture pixilates, goes silent and then freezes – you sigh, you wait, you curse … then the scene suddenly jumps ahead, comes back into focus, the little squares merge into something recognizable and the sound comes back on. You missed whatever was said or done in those frozen moments … just gone; like sand through an hourglass, you can’t get it back, can’t rewind. You just have to deal, keep going, and piece it together.

Just as Buffy started to blow the dust over the barrier, time jumped forward on her like that. The slow-motion bubble she’d been in seemed to burst and she could again hear everyone around her screaming, feel the entire building shake and rumble with their feet stomping on the dark slate floor and their hands beating on the railing that surrounded the pit. The heavy, clear syrup that had been holding her back dropped away. She looked up one second before spreading the magical dust and her breath caught in her throat.
 
The Pele demon was writhing on the floor in pain, holding his groin with one hand and his forehead with the other; Spike was frantically patting his hands against his scorched throat and chest, making sure the embers weren’t spreading. How much fire did it take to dust a vampire, anyway? Was 50% on fire enough, or did it have to be 100%? He didn’t really know and had no desire to find out.
 
“What happened!?” Buffy demanded of Faith, her eyes wide with confusion.
 
“The ol’ head-butt and knee to the balls defense,” she explained quickly, giving a demo of head butting someone while raising her knee up hard.
 
Buffy frowned. How did she miss that? Damn. Buffy carefully funneled the magical powder from her palm back into its satchel and turned her eyes back to the fight. As soon as Spike was sure he wasn’t on St. Peter’s short list, he crawled over to where the Pele demon was still recovering from the massive head butt and knee to the groin Spike had given him. Spike’s one knee was wrecked, all the tendons had been completely wrenched from where they connected to the bone; no way would he be able to stand on it. If he was going to win, he had to do it now, while his opponent was down on his level and still seeing stars.
 
Spike was certain he’d lost everything only moments before, now he had a second chance, he couldn’t blow it; he knew he wouldn’t get a third. The pain from the fire demon’s flaming fists around his throat had been excruciating … he was pretty sure most of the skin of his chest all the way to his chin would start sloughing off very soon. He couldn’t see it, but it felt like the skin of a rotisserie chicken left in the oven too long; beyond roasted – blackened, burnt, charred. While the flames were licking his skin, Spike could feel the life draining out of him; his muscles had been strained beyond their capacity and the pain was more than anyone should have to endure … but he’d endured such things before. In hell. And he had no desire to go back there anytime soon.
 
For the briefest of moments Spike had seen Dru’s face smiling wickedly at him in the flames as they danced in front of his eyes, as if she sensed how close he was to joining her in hell. The feeling of being killed again was eerily similar to his first death, it was a déjà vu moment that he really could’ve gone an eternity without experiencing a second time. Although Dru’s bite had started off with a blissful combination of pain and pleasure, it ended with a feeling of emptiness and an iciness that chilled him to his core. The feeling of his life force being drained from his body was one that he’d never forget; one that he thought he’d never actually feel again, but he had felt it only moments before. Maybe it was because of his soul … maybe that was what was actually being driven from his mortal, or immortal, as it were, being. He wasn’t sure. What he was sure of was that he didn’t want to feel that again – preferably ever.
 
As he struggled to get the Pele demon off him, the faces in the flames morphed from Dru’s features to Buffy’s … then Annie, and Dani, and Billy, Bess and MacKenzie were there, looking at him, silently pleading with him to not go. In that moment, he sent a message to Buffy – stop the fight. She was right, this wasn’t worth it. It wasn’t worth losing his family; it wasn’t worth breaking his promise to her that she wouldn’t have to walk alone; it wasn’t worth the heartbreak their children would endure. He’d been selfish, proud and arrogant – and he’d been wrong – foolish; she’d been right. This wasn’t the way. But Buffy couldn’t hear his plea through the magical barrier and he couldn’t get any words out past the Pele’s grip. She didn’t know he no longer believed, she only knew that she promised to not underestimate him … and she hadn’t.
 
When he realized that Buffy couldn’t hear him, that she was still holding onto the belief that he could win, that she was keeping her promise to not underestimate him, Spike steeled himself and took strength from the faces that danced in the flames – the faces of his family, of the people that he loved more than anything in the world. There was only one reason to fight now – it wasn’t for money, it was to get back to them; to not break his promises to any of them. It was their love, their belief in him that made him believe again and gave his quivering and exhausted muscles the strength to break free of the Pele's grip and gave his heart the courage to fight on.
 
Now, the larger demon was foolishly facing away from Spike as he regained his bearings and fought the pain the vamp had unexpectedly inflicted on him. Perhaps the stars flashing in his field of vision were blinding him or maybe he thought Spike wouldn’t be able to get up, whatever the reason, Spike was thankful for it. The Pele’s fists were extinguished when Spike reached him. The fire demon was rubbing the large, purple knot on his forehead and holding his naughty bits, as he tried to get everything to stop hurting, get some air back into his lungs, and get back to his feet. This was Spike’s chance … his last chance.
 
Spike lunged at the walking torch, wrapped his arms around the demon’s head and twisted with all his strength in an attempt to break his neck. Unfortunately, the skin from Spike's badly burnt hand and arm slipped off his flesh like a glove, leaving a slick, bloody appendage in its stead, and he lost his grip on the Pele's head. The larger demon struck out at Spike, jabbing a forceful elbow backwards at him and cracking a rib or two. Spike yelled out in pain, both from the jab and his skin peeling off his flesh, but pressed on - he couldn't let the demon get up, start moving again, or he'd be done for.

 

Spike quickly wrapped his arms back around the demon's head and neck and pressed with every ounce of energy he had left (and some he didn't know he had) against the larger man’s carotid artery. He didn't have enough grip to twist his head with his hands, but he hoped he had enough strength in his arms to stop the blood flow to the Pele's brain. He hoped the artery was in the same place as a human’s. It if wasn’t, that feeling of the life force draining out of him would soon return, Spike reckoned.


The demon struggled against the assault, knocking both men down onto their sides on the hard floor, but Spike hung on as if his life depended on it – which it did. Spike could feel the demon’s blood pounding under the press of his forearm, but it wasn’t slowing like he’d expected; he didn’t have enough strength to stop the blood and deprive the Pele’s brain of oxygen. Suddenly, the demon’s fists burst into flames and he began to lift them over his head in an attempt to grab Spike around the back of the neck as the two continued to struggle on the blood-stained granite floor.
 
Spike had only one chance left … something he hadn’t had to do in any of the 'No Holds Barred' fights. It was something his dark side loved too much and frankly, it frightened him. Drinking from Buffy infused his demon with power, but when he took a life with his fangs, the demon grew even stronger, even darker – it struggled to wrest control away from the man and left him longing for more blood, more violence, more mayhem. It was a battle Spike feared; a battle he wasn’t sure the man within could always win. Spike hadn’t taken a human life with his fangs in many, many years before their battle in the dungeon – hadn’t even used them with malicious intent in so long he could barely recall it – even Riley Finn hadn’t warranted it. But it was all he had left now.
 
He reminded himself that his opponent was not a man … not human, he was a demon, a demon set on destroying him, of taking him away from his family. He hoped that would be enough to rein the monster in when the deed was done, he wasn’t certain that it would be, but he had no choice now. Spike surrendered completely to his own demon and the monster within him leapt at the chance to run free, like a lion that had been kept in a small circus cage suddenly being turned loose on the open savannah. And run wild the demon did ... never pausing once or looking back.



His fangs sank savagely into the flesh of the Pele and the fire demon’s blood singed Spike’s tongue and lips and burned down his throat like it was made of molten lava. For a moment Spike actually thought the other demon might have holy water running in its veins, it burnt that badly … but it also tasted like glorious, rapturous blood – like human blood - like human blood full of adrenaline and fear. The demon's flesh tore like human flesh and the vampire reveled in it as it continued to rip deep gashes into the Pele's throat and suck noisily against the gaping wound.
 
Spike’s immediate reflex to the pain flowing down his gullet was to let go, but the vampire within had just begun to sample the free flowing, coppery, fear-laced hemoglobin and demanded more. The demon vehemently refused to release his victim now that it had been given the reins … how many years had it been since such deliriously wonderful destruction had been delivered at the hands and fangs of William the Bloody? Too long.
 
Spike roared in pain and shook his head violently, ripping the larger demon’s flesh, arteries, and tendons until the white of the Pele’s clavicle bone could be seen and blood spewed in geysers from the brutal, jagged wound. Spike felt like he might burn up from the inside out, but his demon only fed on the pain, savored it, reveled in it. A feeling of utter bliss and power came over Spike, brought on by the bloodshed and of being free from all the boundaries William’s soul imposed on the killer within. For the first time in a very long time, the demon was completely in charge, and it had no intentions of squandering this opportunity to wreck havoc and spill blood. The lion had caught the gazelle and it would not relinquish its prize for love or money; this is what it was made to do, this was its calling.
 
The audience gasped as red blood spurted in all directions, covering the walls and floor of the pit as well as the two combatants. It sizzled when it landed, like it was made of concentrated sulfuric acid, and wisps of smoke rose from every drop that painted the ring, as well as everywhere it touched Spike’s skin. The Pele continued to fight, trying to get free of Spike’s grip, still trying to reach him with his burning hands, but the rapid blood loss and indescribable pain proved too much for the larger fighter, and his flaming fists faded to embers then went cold and the Pele finally went completely still.

 

For a moment the audience fell completely silent, as if someone had simply hit the mute button on the world, while they watched the brutal and bloody end of the Pele’s life. The blood that had spilled from the fire demon continued to hiss and crackle as it burnt deep impressions in the granite floor and rock walls of the pit – but that wasn’t all that it was burning. Buffy held her hand over her mouth in shock as she watched holes burn through Spike’s jeans; his chest and back were sizzling, frying like bacon on a hot griddle everywhere the blood covered him. The stench of burning flesh and fabric and hair rose up from the pit to the crowd and more than one diamond encrusted hand pressed against perfectly shaped, glistening lips to hold back the bile.
 
“Oh God…” Buffy muttered as she realized that Spike had won, but the other demon was still fighting, even beyond death, as its acidic, fiery blood began to ignite small fires all over her husband’s jeans and skin.
 
After what seemed a very long time, Spike finally gained some control over his inner demon and forced it to release his dead opponent. Spike pushed the Pele’s corpse away from him, then the realization hit that the stench of burning flesh was coming from his own body – not the Pele's.
 
Spike began patting the flames out that had burst into life on his clothing and skin, but there were more than he could extinguish and they were spreading quickly. Whenever he moved and touched more of the Pele’s blood that now lay in puddles on the floor, more flames ignited and threatened to engulf him.
 
Buffy could hear the ring announcer, who was still standing safely outside the pit, begin to pronounce Spike the winner; it seemed almost comical since Spike was still fighting the blood of his downed adversary. This time, there was no slow motion, no doubt. Buffy pulled the satchel back out of her pocket and quickly blew the black magical dust onto the barrier that stood between her and Spike. There was a brief flash of blue light … Buffy didn’t know if that meant it worked or not, but she didn’t have time to even check first with her hand. She hurdled over the Plexiglas banister and prayed…
 
To her relief, she felt only a slight tension when she hit the barrier, but then she fell through, down twelve feet to the blood covered floor of the pit. Her relief was short lived, however. As soon as her feet splashed in the Pele’s blood, flames burst up all around her, following the trajectory of the splattering blood like a burning fountain and covering her boots and the bottom of her jeans with flames.

 

Buffy screamed and tried to jump away from the fire, but it had already caught her, covering her lower legs. More smoke rose from her own clothing, even as Spike continued to try and get out of the mine field of blood that was covering most of the floor and stop the flames that were threatening to become an inferno and devour him. Buffy leapt off to one side, trying to find a spot that was free of the demon blood, but her movement only fanned the flames that had now engulfed her jeans from the knees down and began to move up her legs.
 
She fought the panic that was rising within her as she coughed and choked on the fetid smoke and tried to pull the other satchel of magic dust from her pocket – the one designed to extinguish the flames.
 
Buffy struggled to get the small bag out of her pocket, her hands trembled uncontrollably while her flesh sizzled and she fought to breathe through the black smoke that was now filling the arena. She tried not to move, not to fan the flames further, but it was impossible to stop. Every step she took trying to escape the inferno seemed to simply add more blood, more fuel to the fire that was engulfing her.

She finally yanked the satchel free of her pocket and fumbled with the string that held it closed as the flames continued to build along with her panic. There were lots of ways she could die, burning to death had never been high on her list of worries – until now.
 
She thought she heard Spike calling her name and she lifted her eyes momentarily from the confounded knot that was between her and salvation, but couldn’t see anything through the wall of billowing smoke.

Just as she dropped her gaze back to the leather pouch, she was knocked to the ground with a hard thud. Her head cracked against the rock wall and the satchel of magical extinguisher fell from her hand. For the briefest of moments she saw a huge flash of bright blue flame where the magical dust dropped into a pool of the Pele’s blood, then everything went completely black.

**~**

{{Click here to hear Saturday Night’s Alright for Fighting, Elton John on YouTube  }}
 
It's getting late have you seen my mates
Ma tell me when the boys get here
It's seven o'clock and I want to rock
Want to get a belly full of beer

My old man's drunker than a barrel full of monkeys
And my old lady she don't care
My sister looks cute in her braces and boots
A handful of grease in her hair

Don't give us none of your aggravation
We had it with your discipline
Saturday night's alright for fighting
Get a little action in


Get about as oiled as a diesel train
Gonna set this dance alight
'Cause Saturday night's the night I like
Saturday night's alright, alright, alright

Well they're packed pretty tight in here tonight
I'm looking for a dolly who'll see me right
I may use a little muscle to get what I need
I may sink a little drink and shout out "She's with me!"

A couple of the sound that I really like
Are the sounds of a switchblade and a motorbike
I'm a juvenile product of the working class
Whose best friend floats in the bottom of a glass

Don't give us none of your aggravation
We had it with your discipline
Saturday night's alright for fighting
Get a little action in

End Notes:
Oh, are you kidding me?!!? ANOTHER CLIFFIE? Seriously?? Sorry, gang! As you can see, my muse and I came to a bit of an agreement. After playing Angel singing Mandy over and over for the last 12 hours, Blue-boy agreed to allow Spike to win ... but he demands a sacrafice ... The piper must be paid. We'll see what the price is soon... Eeeek! You know Iove hearing from you, even if it's to say what a rotten, evil, vile creature I have for a muse ... :O
Space Oddity by Passion4Spike
Author's Notes:
Will Spike or Buffy pay the ultimate price for Buffy’s hesitancy to stop the fight? Can they make it back to their family or will one or both be forever lost?
Saturday, January 1st, 2011, 10:15pm at the fight arena:

 

As soon as Spike had pushed the other demon away from him, the Pele demon’s body slumped to the ground and burst into flames, filling the pit with even more acrid, black smoke. But Spike didn’t even notice, he was too busy trying to extinguish the flames that were starting to engulf him. At first, his mind couldn’t fully process what was causing them … then realization finally hit that it was the Pele’s blood that was the flint and Spike was the tinder. The more Spike scrambled to try and get away from the blood, the more it seemed to cover him. With his damaged knee, he couldn’t stand, couldn’t jump, and definitely couldn’t run, the only way out of the ring of fire was through it … crawling on his ass or belly – it was his choice which he preferred.
 
Spike could hear the ring announcer pronouncing him the winner and he thought that was a bit premature … it would be somehow ironic if the Pele won posthumously. Actually, no, that wasn’t irony, that was just plain fucked up, but definitely his luck. Maybe he and Buffy hadn’t made enough noise last night at midnight and evil spirits were haunting them. Oh man, if he dusted, Buffy was going to be soooo pissed. At least he wouldn’t have to be around to feel her wrath, although, knowing her, she’d hunt him down in hell just to say, ‘I told you so’.
 
Then Spike heard her screaming and he looked up from his task of trying to smother the flames on his body. He could just see her through the thick smoke – she was in the pit, engulfed in flames. “Oh, bloody hell…” It wasn’t bad enough that he was going to dust, she was gonna follow him into limbo and kick his ass to hell and back again.
 
Before Spike could move towards her, he was suddenly being smothered with a thick blanket. He could hear Raj telling him to stay still as the boy patted his hands down against Spike’s body and put the fires out. Then, still covered in the blanket, Spike was being dragged out of the pit, away from the acidic, combustible blood – away from Buffy.
 
“No! Stop!” he yelled as he pulled back against the clean-up boys, both of which were now there, pulling him away. He tossed the blanket to the side and sat up. “Buffy! Buffy’s in here!” he screamed at Raj in a panic, waving a blackened arm towards the spot he’d last seen her.
 
“Crazy girl?” Raj questioned. “No, crazy girl up…” Raj looked up where Buffy had been standing at the railing and she wasn’t there – then he heard her screaming as well. “You owe Raj! You girl nutso crazy!” the slim boy informed Spike tersely as he grabbed the blanket up and picked his way through the flames and sizzling blood towards her screams.
 
Spike tried to stand up, but only got halfway and collapsed back down. His knee was demolished, his skin was burnt and blackened; he barely had enough strength to remain sitting, let alone stand up. Then he saw a large blue flame shoot up from where Raj had gone and renewed strength came in the form of pure adrenaline brought on by fear for his wife’s safety. He pushed up, screaming out in pain as he put pressure on his knee. He grabbed the other clean-up boy for support, but the boy pulled back when Spike started into the burning ring of hell. He didn’t make enough to brave that. Spike stumbled forward, putting weight on his mangled knee regardless of the pain. He had to get to Buffy … it was his only thought, the only thing he could feel in that moment was fear for her.
 
Spike had only taken perhaps three or four halting steps back into the fire and smoke filled pit when he saw Raj picking his way through the flames towards him – empty handed, no blanket, no Slayer. “What the bloody hell!? Where’s Buffy!?” Spike screamed at the boy as he tried to quicken his pace towards him, but only managed to limp forward one or two small steps.
 
“You no worry! Raj A-number-one!” the dark-haired boy assured him, flashing a bright smile at Spike.
 
“I’ll bloody worry … I’ll worry your skinny ass with a bloody switch…” Spike began angrily when he saw Faith behind the young man, following in his footsteps to avoid the blood and flames, carrying Buffy over her shoulder, wrapped up in the blanket.
 
Spike’s anger and fear waned and he blew out a long breath of relief and exhaustion when he saw them. As the duo picked their way across the battle field, through the ring of fire, a flurry of activity erupted in the pit as two more clean-up boys came in and began spreading buckets of baking soda on the flames, blood, and the body of the Pele demon. Spike suddenly felt totally done in; a shroud of exhaustion the likes of which he’d only felt once or twice before in his long unlife descended over his body and engulfed his mind. The pain, which had been held at bay by his adrenaline, set in with a vengeance now that it was over. Just as Raj got near him, Spike reached out for the boy, suddenly unable to stand one second longer; his head spun from the searing pain that covered his body from the burns and shot out like bolts of agony from his demolished knee. The last thing Spike remembered was the clean-up boy trying to catch him as he lost consciousness and collapsed.
 
**~**
 
Spike opened his eyes but couldn’t see anything but a void so dark that it seemed like a black hole had swallowed every glimmer of light from the entire universe; not one star, not one flicker of a candle, not one firefly remained in all of heaven or earth. The darkness penetrated his eyes painfully and seeped into his brain, it was so utterly, completely black. How long had he been out? He wasn't sure ... a minute, an hour, a day? Longer?
 
“Buffy?” he called, but his voice came back to him only a moment after leaving his lips. Spike reached his hands up and was met with soft, silky fabric covering something hard, only inches above his face. He’d felt that before … a coffin. Had he died? Or perhaps someone thought he had and buried him? But, where was Buffy? Did that mean she’d also died? But surely their friends wouldn’t have buried him, even if that was true … would they?
 
“Hey! Let me outta here!” he cried, banging on the flimsy fabric and hard wood above him. The muffled sound it made told him what he needed to know – he was underground. Spike yelled and screamed and clawed ferociously at the fabric and wood, tearing his fingers on the jagged splinters he created. He didn’t know how long he fought against the casket and the six feet of soil above it to finally reach the green grass of the cemetery. It might’ve been hours or days… at one moment it seemed forever, in the next it seemed he’d only just started fighting.
 
He pulled himself up onto the cool grass and collapsed from the effort, panting for unneeded oxygen as he stared up at a dark, cloudless, moonless sky, thankful for the stars that winked, proving that the universe did still exist out there somewhere.
 
“There’s my sweet William … come home to mummy, he has,” he heard a familiar voice call from behind him. He turned quickly to see Dru sitting at a table that was covered with pastries with a large pot of tea brewing in the center. “You almost missed tea, William,” she continued with a pout. “Miss Edith would’ve been so disappointed if you hadn’t joined us. You know how cross she can get, won’t sing, won’t dance … like a little bird … frozen in the snow.”

 

“Dru … What?” Spike questioned, standing up. “What’re you doin’ here? Where’s Buffy?”
 
“Don’t worry about the Slayer, my Spike,” Dru assured him. “I took care of her.”
 
“What … what do you mean you ‘took care’ of her? What the bloody hell did you do, Dru?” he demanded, stalking slowly towards his sire – the person who he thought for over a hundred years was his destiny, his eternal love.
 
“Run and catch, run and catch, the lamb is caught in the blackberry patch,” Dru sing-songed as she twirled in a circle on the grass, ending against Spike’s chest.
 
“What did you do?” Spike demanded again, catching her by the shoulders and holding her still.

 

“Shhhhh!” Dru admonished him with wide eyes, holding one long red nail up to her lips. “You’ll wake the baby!”
 
“Baby? What…” Spike started as Dru pointed to fresh grave. The headstone read, ‘Buffy Summers-Weckerly, 1981 – 2011, Mother – Wife – Friend’.
 
“What the bloody hell?” Spike questioned with wide eyes as the ground began to move and roll and a hand poked out of the soil of Buffy’s grave.
 
Dru giggled with glee, clapping her hands and bouncing on her toes. “Isn’t she lovely, my Spike!? And she’s ours … a real live babydoll for Miss Edith to play with. We’ll have so much merriment … it’s her birthday! We’ll have cake and tarts and catch the stars with brilliant bubbling lassos.”
 
“What did you do, Dru!?” Spike demanded, shaking her by the shoulders.
 
“I made her … for you Spike,” Dru told him with another pout. “You killed your third, but I turned her for you.  I thought you’d be pleased. I knew I could never take my big, bad dog away from the Slayer … so I brought the Slayer to us. Merry Christmas, my darling boy…”
 
**~**
 
(5 days after the fight) Thursday, January 6th, 2011:
 
Buffy and Faith tried to hold Spike still as he clawed and fought against the healing poultices that Tara had prepared for him. He hadn’t ever fully regained consciousness since collapsing in the pit after the fight. The best they could do was get him semi-coherent, just enough to sit him up and force some blood into his mouth, most of which simply spilled, but some got swallowed. His demon hadn’t abated since the fight, which Buffy thought might be a good thing, it was fighting his injuries and the pain; unfortunately, it was also fighting them and the cooling, medicinal compresses they had on his badly burned skin.
 
Of course, they knew Spike couldn’t get an infection from the burns, but the cooling properties of the medicines should make him more comfortable. They first thought the problem was that the poultices smelled funny … whatever herbs Tara had used seemed to incite the demon; she’d tried changing to different herbs, but nothing seemed to help. Buffy tried changing to simply cool, damp cloths, but even that caused the demon to react badly, so she went back to the medicinal ones, at least they were helping him heal, just as they’d helped her.
 
Buffy’s legs had been burnt, but her boots had shielded her skin from most of the flames. If it hadn’t been for Raj knocking her head into the rock wall of the pit as he tried to cover her with the blanket, she would’ve been able to walk out of the fire on her own. As it was, she regained consciousness not long after Faith got her out of the inferno; Spike however, wasn’t so lucky.
 
After the fight, they loaded Spike up into the minivan and brought him home. Buffy cut what was left of his scorched jeans off him and cleaned his wounds and skin the best she could. Tara made the healing balms for Buffy’s burns and they helped it feel better immediately and sped her recovery, so Buffy had been applying them to Spike’s whole body ever since – it had been five days now, and, apart from screams and moans and sometimes calling her name from his sleep, he hadn’t said anything or fully awoken since then.
 
Bess had volunteered the Gem of Amarra, surely that would heal him, but apart from knowing that it was somewhere in her thigh, Buffy didn’t know exactly where, or even which thigh – Spike had never been that specific. She didn’t want to just start doing ‘exploratory surgery’ on Bess to try and find it, not if Spike could heal on his own, but honestly, she hadn’t expected him to stay out of it this long. If he didn’t wake up soon, then she would have no other choice than to try and find it and extract it from Bess.
 
**~**
 
Spike moved over to his wife’s grave and took her smaller hand in his, pulling her out of the soft soil and up onto the grass with him. “Buffy … God, Buffy, what have I done?” he moaned when he saw her face. Her green eyes were yellow and feral, her forehead ridged with bumps, her fangs long and deadly sharp. It wasn’t the dark Slayer power that had always been within her; no, this was a demon, fully, completely turned – evil personified.
 
“Spike! Oh, thank goodness … I thought I’d be alone with insano Dru for all eternity,” she admitted as she stood up and began brushing the dirt off her clothes. “I’m not really sure about the etiquette on staking your own sire, but if anyone could drive me to it … she’d be the one. I mean I’d hate to, you know, disgrace us if staking her is like using the dessert fork to eat your salad with – totally uncouth. I’d hate to be a couth-less vampire … Oh, is that an oxymoron?” Buffy prattled happily as Spike stood slack jawed, gawping at her. Luckily there were no flies buzzing about to be gathered into his gaping mouth.
 
“So, mayhem and bloodshed now, right? Kinda like a rite of passage or something? Who’s up for the Bronze? I’m starving! There’s always some dumbass out back in the alley just begging to be a blood donor,” Buffy continued brightly. “You know, if we gave out t-shirts like the blood banks do, we could probably get the Happy Meals to just come to us. What would be a good slogan?” she pondered as she turned towards the cemetery exit. “Maybe: ‘vampires are people too – give blood,’ or ‘giving blood doesn’t suck!’ … whaddya think?”
 
“Buffy! Stop … this isn’t you!” Spike admonished her, finally breaking out of his stupor and grabbing her arm as she started to walk away.
 
“Sure it is! See! Buffy Summers-Weckerly,” she read off the tombstone brightly. “C’mon, it’ll be fun, right Dru?!”
 
“Oodles and oodles,” Dru agreed with a happy smile, taking Buffy’s other hand and pulling her forward, away from Spike.

 

“Buffy! Please, luv. What about the bits? Don’t we need to go home?” Spike questioned, following behind the two women.
 
“Oh, please, Spike! When did you get to be such a spoilsport?” Buffy chastised him. “Anyway – they don’t need us, they have all that money you won. They probably already bought some new parents …”

 

“Bought new …” Spike began with a furrowed brow. “You can’t buy new parents,” he pointed out.
 
“Oh, sure you can! You just have to know where to shop…” Buffy assured him as she and Dru kept walking away. “All the best stores have them now … haven’t you heard? Macy’s, Saks … it’s all the rage. I hear Wal-Mart will start carrying them next year … of course, they’ll all be cheap knock-offs from China. But Annie speaks Chinese, so it’s all good.”
 
“But, Buffy … we’re their parents. They need us,” Spike protested.
 
“Oh well … guess you should’ve thought of that before you went and got us all killed,” Buffy retorted blithely as she walked arm and arm with Dru towards the Bronze.
 
**~**
 
Buffy, Annie, Dani, Billy, and Bess sat at the kitchen table and ate their pizza and wings in silence. They all cast furtive glances at the empty seat on the end – Spike’s place, as they ate.
 
“So,” Buffy started, trying to break the gloomy silence. “Madame Bové said she thought you could be the understudy next year for Clara in the Nutcracker…” she offered, looking at Annie. “That’s great, isn’t it?”
 
“Yeah …” Annie agreed morosely.
 
Buffy blew out a breath. “Dani … when do your soccer games start again?”
 
“I think March…”
 
“Are you anxious for them to get going again?” Buffy prodded.
 
“Yeah, I guess.”
 
“Bess, how’s that algebra coming along?” Buffy tried.
 
“Pretty well.”
 
“Billy … I heard they’re gonna redo all the Star Trek movies in 3D soon … that’ll be cool, huh?” Buffy continued.
 
“Star Wars …” he corrected her with a sigh as he picked at his pizza. “Papa says he’ll believe it when he bloody well sees it…” he continued, mimicking his father’s accent on that last part. The words were no sooner out of his mouth than the dark clouds hanging over the group seemed to open up and cover them with an even thicker deluge of depression.
 
Buffy sighed and dropped her napkin on the table. “Ok, guys … I know you’re all worried about your father, but I promise that he’ll be ok.”
 
“He doesn’t look very ok,” Annie pointed out with a frown.
 
“I know … I know it looks bad, but he really will heal,” Buffy assured them.
 
“Why won’t he wake up?” Dani wondered.
 
“Well, sometimes, when your body is healing itself, it shuts your mind down so it can just concentrate on the rest,” Buffy explained, although his not waking up was starting to worry her, as well. “A lot of times they actually put people into drug induced comas after they’ve been burnt so they don’t hurt while they’re healing.”

 

“Did he save whoever he was trying to rescue?” Billy asked.
 
Buffy bit her lip. “Yeah … yeah, I guess he did,” she hedged, figuring that, in Spike’s mind, he was fighting for all of them.
 
“He didn’t save anyone! He was fighting for money!” Annie accused with an edge of anger.
 
“Well, yes, that’s true – but he was fighting to get money for us … for all of us,” Buffy defended.
 
“Then why didn’t you help him? Why did you make him do it alone?” Annie continued harshly.
 
“Annie, honey – I couldn’t help him … I tried to talk him out of it, I tried to stop it,” Buffy explained.
 
“No you didn’t! If you wanted to stop him, you could have! You’re the Slayer! You didn’t really want to stop anything. You just wanted that stupid money! That’s all you guys ever talk about anymore!” her eldest daughter shot back accusingly, her voice rising in frustration and fear mixed with anger.
 
“Annie … that’s not true,” Buffy began. “I love him, I would give all that money back right now to heal him.”
 
“Yeah, right! Tell that to someone who’s young and gullible,” she spat back, standing up from the table and storming out of the kitchen. “Where’s your ice cream and chocolate syrup and cherries now!?” she called back over her shoulder as she mounted the stairs and ran up to her room, her heavy footsteps echoing throughout the mansion.
 
Tears stung Buffy’s eyes and her guilt over not moving fast enough to stop the fight when Spike was losing but still relatively unhurt caught in her throat and threatened to choke her. Was it her desire to be out from under the weight of their rising debt that had made her hesitate? She told herself it was her promise to not underestimate him; that it was her belief in him that held her back, but deep down she wondered if there was a more sinister, horribly vile reason for her freeze up.
 
“She doesn’t mean it,” Billy offered. “She’s just scared.”
 
“I know, baby … I’m a little scared too,” Buffy divulged, wiping at her eyes and giving him a small smile.
 
“May I be excused?” Bess asked as she laid her napkin down on the table.
 
“Sure…” Buffy agreed. “You two need to eat though,” she added before either Dani or Billy could ask the same.
 
**~**
 
Upstairs, Bess knocked lightly on Annie’s door. “Go away!” came the immediate reply from the other side.
 
Bess tried the knob, it was unlocked. She opened the door and stepped into her sister’s room.
 
Annie was lying on the bed on her stomach crying into her pillow. “I said ‘go away’! You don’t listen very well!”
 
“Yeah, I’ve been told that before,” Bess agreed, sitting down on the edge of the bed next to the younger girl and laying a hand on her back.
 
“Buffy really does love him, ya know,” Bess began. “You’ve never seen them in a fight … I mean, in a life or death battle – I have. They’d both lay their lives down for the other. They love each other very much.”
 
Annie sniffed and turned over onto her back and looked up at Bess; her face damp with tears and eyes red and swollen from crying. “Why did she let him do that?”
 
Bess gave a small shrug. “Probably because she loves him … she has faith in him. Spike’s strong, he’s smart, he’s an excellent fighter. I saw him beat a vamp twice his size … well, he would’ve … if he hadn’t gotten shot with those tranquilizer darts.” Bess shook her head – she didn’t want to go any further down that road so she started again, “Mom knows how strong he is … how brave he is. And he really wanted to do it … for us.
 
“I heard her trying to talk him out of it more than once … she wasn’t lying,” Bess offered in Buffy’s defense.
 
Annie sniffed again and picked up a stuffed bear that was lying next to her and hugged it to her chest tightly. “I don’t understand why he would do that…” Annie admitted. “I mean … I know vampire superhero and all, but it’s bad enough that they leave to save other people … strangers even, but to fight like that, risk everything, for money…” Annie sighed, shaking her head. “I don’t understand. I don’t understand why they can’t just get regular jobs like everyone else.”
 
Bess smiled softly at her. “You know they aren’t ‘regular’ and getting a job really isn’t that easy – believe me, I tried. I think he did it because he loves us – all of us, and he wanted to give us all everything we could ever want.”
 
“But all I want is him and he just lays there and moans, I know he’s hurting so much. Sometimes I go in there and I can tell he’s been crying … he’s never gonna get better!” Annie proclaimed as new tears filled her eyes.
 
“I know how you feel, honest I do. When Angelpie got hurt, I thought she’d never get better … I thought she was dead and it scared me to death. She was asleep for a long time, too … but she made it, ‘cos she’s a fighter – and so is Spike. Believe me, he’ll get better … everything will be all right,” Bess assured her as she leaned down and took Annie into a hug.
 
“I miss him so much…” Annie cried against Bess’ shoulder.
 
“I know – I do too. No one’s yelled at Angelpie in almost a week…” she quipped, trying to lighten the mood.
 
Annie laughed sadly against Bess and prayed that the Slayer-vamp was right, that her father would wake up and everything would be okay. “I can yell at her for something tomorrow if you want…” Annie volunteered.
 
“Thanks, I think she’d like that…”
 
**~**
 
Another knock on Annie’s door a few minutes after her sister left was met with a sigh, thinking it was Bess again, she got up and opened the door.
 
“Oh … it’s you,” Annie intoned, an edge of anger still in her voice.
 
“Annie … I know you’re upset and scared, but I really didn’t deserve that tirade earlier,” Buffy began, stepping into her daughter’s room and closing the door behind her. Buffy tried to keep her voice firm and confident … even though she wasn’t 100% sure Annie wasn’t at least partially right about her letting Spike down.
 
Annie sighed and dropped down onto her bed, pulling Miss Kitty into her lap as she sat on the edge heavily. “I’m sorry…” she offered without looking up at Buffy.

 

Buffy sighed and sat down next to her daughter and wrapped an arm over her shoulder, pulling her against her side. “Your dad wanted to do this, baby … I … I tried so hard to talk him out of it, but he had his mind made up. He was determined to get that money for us. He’s so damn proud …” Buffy’s voice faltered and she blinked her tears back.
 
“He’s stubborn …” Annie offered softly. “I know … I know how he can be.”
 
Buffy gave her a sad smile and nodded as she gave the girl’s shoulder a comforting squeeze. “Most people have life-sundaes that are built on vanilla ice cream,” Buffy explained. “Some people are lucky enough to have chocolate or even Neapolitan. We aren’t any of those. Our family has Rocky Road under the chocolate syrup and cherries. Sometimes we get a bite of marshmallow, and it’s nice and soft and smooth and sweet; other times we get bites of the almonds …”
 
“And it’s hard and nutty and … rocky,” Annie finished, rolling her eyes.
 
“Yeah, something like that,” Buffy agreed. “Annie, I promise that we’ll find a way to get your dad back … get him to wake up.”
 
“How can you promise that? You don’t know…”
 
“I do know. I know him. You think he’s just laying there doing nothing, but he’s fighting right now to get back to us, I just know it. And you said it yourself – he’s as stubborn as a mule and twice as strong,” Buffy assured her. “It’ll be okay. He’ll come back to us.”
 
Annie nodded lightly against her mother’s shoulder. “I’m really sorry I said those things to you. I … I was wrong. I’m just … scared. I miss dad.”
 
“I know, sweetie – I’m scared and I miss him too. Your dad asked me to not underestimate him – so we need to not do that. He won’t let anything stand in his way – he loves us and he’ll make it back, no matter what he has to fight to get here.”
 
**~**
 
When Bess finished talking with Annie, she pulled the door closed and sighed heavily. She felt so bad for her and Dani and Billy, too. They all missed Spike, they were all worried, and it was taking a toll on everyone. The Slayer-vamp crossed the hallway and opened Spike and Buffy’s door. Spike’s body had begun to heal; she could see new alabaster white skin on his chest covering the areas that had been burnt – only a few of the deeper burns remained black and unhealed, but even so, it must still be painful. As Annie pointed out, all he seemed to do was emit agonizing moans in his sleep.
 
Bess pulled the door closed, her mind set on what needed to be done. She headed for the upstairs weapons cache and picked out the sharpest dagger she could find, then she went into the bathroom and locked the door behind her. Spike and Buffy had risked everything for her – it was time she paid a little of that back.
 
**~**
 
“Buffy, please,” Spike begged as he followed her and Dru into the alley behind the Bronze. “Let’s call Red, have her mojo your soul back … everything will be alright, luv.”
 
“Screw that!” Buffy scoffed. “Look! It’s one of those stuck-up ‘Cordettes’ from high school! Oh, this is gonna be so sweeeet!” Buffy exclaimed, practically drooling, as she made her way with Dru towards the back door of the club.
 
“Buffy – you don’t want to do this!” Spike admonished her, grabbing her arm and pulling her back.
 
“Yes, actually, I do!” his wife retorted, yanking free of his grip.
 
Buffy took a deep breath and forced the demon down before walking up to the Happy Meal. “Aphrodesia!” Buffy began in a friendly tone. “Long time no see!”
 
The well dressed young woman turned and looked at Buffy. A confused expression appeared on her face, followed by one of disdain as she took in the Slayer-vamp’s dirty clothes and mussed hair. “Do I know you?”
 
“Buffy … Buffy Summers. We went to Sunnydale High together,” Buffy explained with an easy smile as she moved closer.
 
“Buffy, please!” Spike begged from behind her. As Spike moved up to stop her, Dru stepped into his path.
 
“Bad dog! Grrrrr! There will be no starfish and Christmas crackers for you!” his sire chastised.

 

“Barmy bint, get the bloody hell outta my way!” he exclaimed, pushing Dru to the side – but he was too late. When Spike reached Buffy, her fangs were already embedded into the girl that had been part of Cordy’s, and later Harmony’s, elite, holier-than-thou, designer clique in high school.
 
“Buffy! No!” he exclaimed as he tried to pull her off the girl, but she was too strong; he couldn’t budge his wife or free the girl from her grasp.
 
Buffy sucked hungrily at the young woman’s neck. The hot blood filled her with a feeling of being alive again – it made her warm and tingly all over and that only made her more ravenous. When she’d nearly drained the girl, she offered the half-dead Cordette to Spike. “Drink, baby … drink for me,” she cooed. “You know you want it … just drink.”
 
When the heady smell of hot, fresh, human blood assailed his senses, Spike flagged, his demon rose, and he was unable to stop the monster’s instincts. He yanked the girl from Buffy’s arms and ravaged the innocent’s neck, slurping and sucking against her hot skin.

 

It was his worst nightmare come to life – he couldn’t control the demon. He’d let it out of its cage, given it free rein, and now it wouldn’t go back in. During the fight with the Pele it had gotten a taste of freedom, a small reminder of the violence and bloodshed and the mayhem that William the Bloody had wrought for over a century, and now it wanted that glorious time back. The monster was free and taking control. Soon, he feared, it would obliterate the man and run roughshod over his soul. William the Bloody was back … and the demon grinned as it drank deeply … very pleased.
 
**~**
 
“C’mon, baby … please,” Buffy begged Spike as she held him upright in the bed, tilted his head back and poured warm blood into his mouth from a water bottle. “Just drink a little … for me …”
 
Spike sputtered and choked on the Slayer blood, her blood, that she was feeding him, but he finally swallowed once, then twice.
 
“Good … that’s good, baby,” Buffy cooed as she let him rest a moment before trying to get more down him.
 
Fred had a friend that was a nurse who had helped AI before with some supernatural patients, and she’d brought her by to try and put a feeding tube directly down Spike’s throat and into his stomach, but Spike just ripped it out. Without strapping him down, that wouldn’t work, and Buffy hated to put straps on his burnt skin; she feared he’d only pull against them and hurt himself worse.
 
She really was at her wits end. Despite her assurances to the kids, she really didn’t know if he would ever wake up. What if that Pele blood had something in it that was poisonous to vamps … something more than just the ability to set them on fire? Giles had checked every book he knew of and Willow had searched the web and the new Council database, but they hadn’t come up with any special powers for the Pele’s blood – other than burning like concentrated acid. Still … she worried. She worried a lot. Tomorrow she’d have to figure out how to get the Gem out of Bess; she couldn’t take this waiting and worrying any longer, and neither could the kids.
 
But all she could do right now was try to make him comfortable and try to get as much blood down him as she could … she didn’t know what else to do.
 
**~**
 
When the man finally wrested a small speck of control back from the demon, he dropped the drained and dead Cordette onto the cold, dirty pavement of the alley and backed up in horror. What had he done? Buffy and Dru were smiling at him; blood dripped from his wife’s chin and he watched Dru run her finger through it and suck it into her mouth. His sire closed her eyes and emitted a pleasurable moan, her body swaying to a tune only she could hear, as she licked every drop from her finger.
 
“I told you we could save him together. My pretty William’s back …” Dru gushed. “A killer … born to slash … and bash … and bleed like beautiful poetry.”

 

Buffy stalked up towards Spike, who was gazing, wide-eyed with shock and fear, at the dead girl at their feet.
 
“Is that true, William? Are you a killer?” she asked him as she ran a finger down from his scared brow to his blood-stained lips.
 
“N-no … no … not … not anymore … not like this,” he stammered, taking a step back from her.
 
“You killed that Pele demon,” Buffy pointed out, stepping forward towards him. “It was just like this … raw power, your fangs tearing into his flesh … that searing blood heating you, burning your soul out as the demon did your bidding. Now the demon demands his due, William. I know you can feel it – I can see it taking over. We’ll be a family, you and me and Dru. We’ll be unstoppable …”
 
“No. No … that’s not … not true. Still have m’ soul …” Spike argued, retreating away from her until his back was against the wall on the other side of the alley and placing his hand over his heart, trying desperately to feel his soul – is that where it resided? He wasn’t sure. “And … we have a family – at home. We just need to get Red…”
 
Buffy shook her head slowly as she walked towards him like a graceful panther stalking its prey. “No, Spike. Our family’s right here … This is all that’s left.”
 
“No, Buffy – the bits…”
 
Buffy snorted a laugh as she reached him and leaned in close to his ear. “Spike … there are no bits left. You killed them, just like you killed me – with your selfish pride. You tore our family apart…”
 
**~**
 

“NOOOOO!” Spike screamed, jerking Buffy from her restless sleep at his side.
 
Buffy put a hand on Spike’s shoulder, one of the few places that wasn’t burnt and painful for him, and cooed softly, trying to comfort him. Tears leaked from her husband’s open, but unseeing eyes and she longed to take him into her arms and rock him, hold him … somehow get him through whatever it was that was frightening him, but that would only hurt him more if she tried. So she lay near him, whispering words of comfort and love into his ear and caressing his bare shoulder until his eyes finally closed again and he calmed.
 
**~**
 
“Take that back! That’s bollocks!” Spike demanded of Buffy as he tried to slide past her.
 
“No, it’s true … it’s all gone, Spike. All of it,” Buffy asserted, grabbing his hand and spinning him back to face her.
 
“No! I don’t believe you! I’d never hurt the bits!” he argued, pulling free of her grasp and sprinting away from her and out of the alley, heading for Crawford Street.
 
“Poor, sweet William,” Dru moaned, looking after him. “Thinks he’s not a bad dog, but he is.” She growled and barked insanely to demonstrate.
 
“C’mon,” Buffy called to her. “Let’s go – he’ll find out soon enough – that soul of his won’t stand a chance when it sees what the demon’s done.”
 
**~**
 
Spike walked through the mansion in a daze … crumpled and bloodied bodies lay everywhere it seemed. Anya, Xander, JJ, Giles, Willow, Tara, Edmond, Faith, and Wes– all dead. All bloodied … throats torn out. But for his children, it was even worse; Dani, Annie, Billy, and Bess had been posed like Dru's dolls, all sitting straight up, leaning against the wall near the kitchen, their heads lolled lifelessly to one side, their dim eyes open wide in terror but now unseeing. Huge gaping holes in their chests told him that his children’s still beating hearts had been torn out while they watched. Their blue eyes were all wide with fright, frozen open in death, pleading with him to spare them, save them; but he couldn’t save them.



Buffy had been right – they were all gone, and he had done it, he’d recognize the handiwork anywhere, it was his demon, it was the work of William the Bloody. They had died at his hand … they had died being terrified of him, they had died horrible, painful, and frightful deaths – they had died begging him to help them and instead he betrayed them.
 
Spike’s legs turned to rubber beneath him. Unable to support his weight any longer, he collapsed down to his knees in the center of the massacre. A deep pool of blood stained the floor, the blood of his family, his friends … they had trusted him, let him in – let a demon walk among them and he had made them pay for it with their lives. Spike looked down at the red puddle beneath him, mixed in with the blood was something else … something green. Money, he realized. All the money he’d won from the fight was covered in the blood of his family.
 
“What have I done?” he moaned miserably, almost incoherently, to himself as he picked up handfuls of the cash. Blood dripped from the sodden bills, running in rivers down his arms, as he clutched the money in his trembling hands. What have I done? What have I done?
 
But the faces that surrounded him only mocked him with their stillness … accusing eyes stared at him unblinking. ‘Murderer. Killer. Monster. Vampire!’ they screamed at him silently. He covered his eyes and ears with his hands and arms, painting his face and head with a layer of red guilt, as he tried to block out the screaming – his children’s screams of pain and horror, but nothing could stop the chorus that haunted him now.
 
“Spike, honey … what’s going on?” Buffy questioned from behind him as she came in through the garden doors. “Oh, my God…” she muttered dumbly as the full scene came into focus for her. Buffy fought to remember that this wasn’t real, her hands going immediately to cover her mouth to keep from vomiting and her eyes closing to block out the horror of Spike’s hallucination – his dream.

 

“YOU!” Spike exclaimed, jumping up from the puddle of blood and money on the floor and rushing towards her. “You did this! This is your fault!”
 
“What? No! Spike … I … what …?” she began with wide eyes as he reached her and clamped his blood-stained hands around her throat.
 
“You trusted me! Believed in me! And now look what’s happened! LOOK what I’ve done!” he demanded of her, pushing her forward and turning her head forcefully to take in the full extent of the carnage.
 
“Spike … no, you wouldn’t … you couldn’t…” Buffy stammered. Bile burned her throat as it rose into her mouth and tears stung her eyes as the dead mocked her, as well.
 
Then Buffy heard MacKenzie crying. She looked up and saw Dru and a vampire version of herself descending the stairs. Dru was cradling the baby in her arms gently and cooing to it, using a long red fingernail to tickle the littlest bit under the chin.

 

“Look what we found, my Spike!” Dru called. “Such a sweet treat ... tastes like strawberries and cream, she does,” Dru cooed, licking a long line from the baby's throat all the way up its cheek to her light red hair.
 
Spike’s eyes went wide and he spun the Buffy in his grip around. Her heart was beating, she was warm … she wasn’t a vampire. “You have to save her. Save her Buffy!”
 
“Spike … what’s going …” Buffy tried again to ask.
 
“Save her! Save the bit! She’s all we have left … I’m so sorry, Buffy. I’m so sorry … please save her,” Spike begged his wife.
 
“Spike! Stop!” Buffy grabbed him as he started to move towards Dru and Vamp!Buffy. “This isn’t real …” she began, but it was too late, Spike wasn’t listening. He pulled away from her and rushed towards his two vampire women.
 
“Give me the bit, Dru,” he demanded as he met them at the bottom of the stairs. “She’s mine – I get the first taste…”
 
Dru smiled and started to hand the baby to him, but then suddenly changed and gave it to Vamp!Buffy instead. “For shame, pretty Spike! Naughty boy! Telling tales to your black princess,” she chastised him, drawing one index finger over the top of the other in a ‘shame on you’ gesture.
 
“Buffy … hand me the bit, luv,” Spike cajoled the Slayer-vamp, reaching for the baby as the warm Buffy came up behind him, still trying to tell him that this wasn’t real, but he didn’t hear her or it just didn’t register.
 
“Oh no, Spike, she’s mine now. One final meal to seal your fate – to get rid of your old life and catapult you into our new one. Did you really think you could keep the demon under control forever? You’re such a fool, William … a cheesy, romantic idiot,” Vamp!Buffy informed him before biting down on the baby’s neck savagely with a grotesque crunch.
 
“NOOOOO!!” Spike screamed. He lunged at Vamp!Buffy and wrested the baby from her hands with power he didn't know he possessed. Clutching its little body to his chest, he turned his back on the two vampire women to protect the baby from further attack.

Then the other Buffy, the warm Buffy was there, a stake in her hand, and Vamp!Buffy burst into dust with a perfect strike to her heart.

Dru growled, morphed into the demon and jumped atop Spike's back, her fists wailing, long nails scratchingg at him, trying to get the last living member of the Weckerly clan away from him. Spike fell to his knees under her weight, his arms wrapped around the baby, his head ducked down over it, protecting MacKenzie from his sire.

Then Dru was knocked off his back, her eyes met his for the briefest of moments as she landed on her back on the floor next to him. Then he felt Buffy moving again and heard the stake come down and embed into Dru's chest.

 

Just as she’d done all those years ago in the mansion when he’d accidentally staked her during the fight with Angelus, her eyes went wide with panic and fear and she called his name softly, “William...” Her voice was that of a forlorn and frightened child who had been betrayed by the one person in the world that she loved and trusted. It tore at Spike’s heart to hear it again, just as it had cut him so deeply that night so long ago, right here in this very place.
 
Buffy moved around and knelt down in front of Spike. Spike was cooing softly to the baby as he licked at the wound on her neck.

"Spike, give me the baby," Buffy requested, reaching out for her.

When Spike raised his face to look at Buffy, the demon had come up and he licked the blood of their littlest bit from his lips. "It does takes like strawberries and cream..." he admitted softly, dropping his mouth back down to the jagged wound on the infant's neck.

"Spike - give me the baby," Buffy repeated more sternly.

"Just a taste ... one little taste ..." Spike objected, even as he raised his mouth away from the sweet blood that covered the infant.

"Spike, this isn't you. This isn't real," Buffy admonished him. She could see him hesitate briefly, the inner turmoil evident even in his feral yellow eyes, and she took that moment to pull the baby away from him.

“Spike …” Buffy cajoled softly as she stood up and gently laid the baby down on the sofa. Buffy continued to take deep breaths and repeat to herself that this was not real so she could stay calm in the face of the unspeakable horror that her husband had conjured. It was working, but just barely.
 
Spike turned to her, his mind a jumble of rage and sorrow and confusion. Yes, he’d let the demon out … let it take control in the fight, fully, completely, but he had been fighting for his life – for his family. Did that mean he could never go back now? Had he fallen so far that he couldn’t control it now? Was his very soul tainted now? Not good enough, not strong enough to control the evil within? Or perhaps it had been burnt out of him. He touched his chest again, trying to feel it … what did it feel like? How do you know if you have a soul or not? Even evil men have souls … killers, human monsters … even Travers and Weatherby presumably had souls. What if his had always been evil and had just been waiting for this opportunity to side with the demon?
 
“Spike, honey, this isn’t real,” Buffy tried to explain again, turning back to him.
 
“Where’s the punkin? Is she … is she okay?” he asked, still not hearing her admonishments.
 
“Spike, she’s fine – she’s home in her crib and she’s fine. This is not real,” Buffy tried again.
 
Spike saw the baby’s bloodied and lifeless body lying on the sofa and his rage erupted again. “Nooo! No! Please!” he pleaded to heaven and hell and everything in between, dropping down next to the small, bloody bundle and picking it up, cradling the cold, mangled body of the baby gently in his arms.
 
Suddenly Spike was ravenous. The inner battle between his demon and his soul swinging to the side of the demon once again as the sweet aroma of the infant’s blood wafted up and surrounded him with a hunger he’d rarely known before. Before he could think or even try to stop it, he dropped his mouth to the wound on the baby’s neck and sucked hungrily at the sweet dessert that his sire had brought him.


This time, the strawberry-blood burned his mouth and lips like acid and snapped Spike out of his hunger induced trance. He quickly dropped the lifeless body back down onto the couch and scrambled back away from it.
 
“I’m a bad man… evil … can’t control … can’t stop … born to slash … must kill…” he muttered incoherently.

 

Spike picked up the stake from the floor where Buffy had dropped it and suddenly began tearing at his own flesh with the sharp wood, gouging his arms and chest, scratching at his throat. He had to get the demon out! He had to kill it … destroy it! Spike screamed in anguish as his dead family and friends watched silently – he had the heart of a monster, he had to get it out.
 
**~**
 
Buffy jerked awake and tried to capture Spike’s hands and still him as he began thrashing in the bed next to her.
 
“Spike, stop! Please don’t,” she begged him as he ripped at the medicinal wraps and then at his skin, scratching long gashes in the newly healed and tender flesh. “Spike! Stop!” she screamed at him, grabbing his hands and holding them above his head to keep him from hurting himself further.
 
“Spike, please … please, baby, stop…” she plead with him over and over, trying to keep her voice calm as he struggled to get away from her. “God, please…”
 
But Spike raged against her, unseeing, unfeeling – his only purpose to get the evil out of his body. He kicked Buffy off, tossing her against the dresser to the side of the bed. She hit hard and bounced down onto the floor. As she struggled back to her feet, Spike moved away from her, rolling to the other side of the bed as he continued ripping at his flesh with his fingers. Buffy ran around the end of the bed, quickly opened their door and screamed for Bess and Faith to come help her control him.
 
In the short seconds it took her to do that and turn back around, Spike had retrieved a stake from the bedside table and was wildly stabbing it into his chest and abdomen.
 
“Spike! No!” Buffy screamed, lunging for him and trying to grab the deadly stake from his hand.
 
**~**

{{Click here to hear Space Oddity – Major Tom, David Bowie on YouTube  }}


 Ground Control to Major Tom
Ground Control to Major Tom
Take your protein pills and put your helmet on

Ground Control to Major Tom (Ten, Nine Eight, Seven, Six)
Commencing countdown, engines on (Five, Four, Three, Two)
Check ignition and may God's love be with you (One, Liftoff)

This is Ground Control to Major Tom
You've really made the grade
And the papers want to know whose shirts you wear
Now it's time to leave the capsule if you dare

This is Major Tom to Ground Control
I'm stepping through the door
And I'm floating in a most peculiar way
And the stars look very different today

For here
Am I sitting in a tin can
Far above the world
Planet Earth is blue
And there's nothing I can do

Though I'm past one hundred thousand miles
I'm feeling very still
And I think my spaceship knows which way to go
Tell my wife I love her very much... she knows

Ground Control to Major Tom
Your circuit's dead, there's something wrong
Can you hear me, Major Tom?
Can you hear me, Major Tom?
Can you hear me, Major Tom?
Can you....

Here am I floating round my tin can
Far above the moon
Planet Earth is blue
And there's nothing I can do.
End Notes:
TBC ... The price my muse is exacting for allowing Spike to win hasn't yet been fully paid ... there will be more. Thanks to everyone that's reading and extra special thanks to those who have sent songs and videos for me to play my muse to try and subdue him. I think he's starting to like 'Mandy' ...
Comfortably Numb by Passion4Spike
Author's Notes:
Spike's paying the price for letting his demon run free. Bess makes a sacrifice and has an idea that may help get him back.
**
Music Referenced:
Comfortably Numb – Pink Floyd http://youtu.be/JU-OSLBKwG0

Other video: Haleakala Hawai'i: http://www.aloha-hawaii.com/maui/haleakala/
  **
ScreenCaps courtesy of ScreenCap Paradise: http://www.screencap-paradise.com/?cat=3
**

Thanks to 'epd4' for betaing this chapter. Any mistakes are mine because I can't stop fiddling ...
(moments later, same night) Thursday, January 6th, 2011:
 
When Bess heard Buffy screaming for help, she re-doubled her efforts. She really should’ve gotten Faith to help her. She’d searched the front of her thighs for the gem, stabbing the dagger in and cutting long gashes in her skin and flesh, all the way to the bone, but she couldn’t see it or feel it. She stuffed a washcloth in her mouth to keep from screaming as she continued the search, beginning where her leg met her hip and cutting long, red, gaping canyons in her flesh all the way to the knee in a systematic pattern, each deep gash only half an inch away from the last.
 
Although the wounds healed quickly, her blood splattered and stained the tile in the shower stall and ran down the drain in a river of red. She was starting to get weak from the blood loss and the pain, but Buffy’s screams for help spurred her on. She had to find that Gem – it had to be here. Buffy said he’d put it in her thigh … she had to find it.
 
Suddenly, as she stabbed the dagger into the back of her leg, just below the curve where her butt met her thigh, she felt it hit something … something that didn’t feel like bone, harder than bone. Bess stabbed again and again, trying to open the wound wide enough and slow the healing long enough for her to get her fingers in there and get it out. If she could only see back there … but she couldn’t – not even the mirror would help her, no reflection.
 
“Damn it!” she screamed in frustration as she spit the washcloth out, headed out of the shower stall, and pushed the door open. She could hear Buffy screaming at Spike to stop – then she heard Faith join her down the hall, trying to subdue the crazed vampire.

 

Bess left the dagger in the back of her thigh and headed out of the bathroom and down the hall to Buffy and Spike’s room. Annie, Dani, and Billy had all come out of their rooms when Buffy began screaming and they all watched in wide-eyed horror as Bess, in a t-shirt and underwear, limped down the hall with a dagger in her leg. She was covered in blood, nearly from head to toe, and left a trail of red footprints on the carpet runner that lined the upstairs hallway.
 
“Get back in your rooms!” she ordered them, waving a bloody arm at them all. When they just stood there in shock she added, “NOW!” and they all jumped and backed up into their respective rooms.
 
When Bess got to Buffy and Spike’s room, Faith and Buffy were trying to retrieve a stake from Spike’s hand. He was lashing out wildly with it, hitting them and himself randomly, screaming about needing to kill the demon.
 
“Faith! Help me!” Bess demanded, grabbing the dark Slayer’s arm and pulling her away from Spike and Buffy.
 
“Bess! What the hell!?” Faith exclaimed when she saw the blood-soaked girl.
 
“The Gem – get the Gem out!” Bess instructed, turning around and showing Faith the dagger that was embedded in the back of her thigh – her skin had closed around it, completely healed but for the blade sticking out.
 
“Holy shit…” Faith swore as Bess began twisting the dagger and reopening the wound.
 
“A little help here!” Buffy screamed at them as she struggled with Spike for control of the stake, which he continued to try and embed into his own body, but often stabbed into her in his effort to rid himself of the demon.
 
Faith looked between the two blondes, not sure who to help first …
 
“Get the Gem!” Bess insisted. “It’ll fix him!”
 
Faith rushed over to her. “Oh … God … gross…” Faith muttered, holding her breath as she took the handle of the dagger from Bess’ hand and pried her flesh open with the blade. She just caught a glimpse of the green jewel before Bess’ skin began closing the wound again.

 

“Stick your hand in! Pull it out!” Bess instructed.
 
“Oh, for Christ’s sake! Is everyone in this house completely insane?!” Faith wondered as she opened the wound again and stuck her hand down into it, trying to reach the Gem with her fingers.
 
Bess screamed in pain as Faith’s hand pressed into the wound, Buffy was still screaming for Spike to stop and for someone to help her, Spike was roaring in anger and frustration at being unable to eradicate the demon and Faith was cursing under her breath that this whole family was warped and needed serious help, including liberal applications of drugs and/or alcohol … or both.
 
Finally, Faith caught the Gem with the tips of her fingers and pulled it out of Bess’ thigh, then pulled the dagger out. Bess collapsed onto the floor, writhing in pain and trying to hold the gaping wound on the back of her thigh closed as Faith turned her attention to Buffy and Spike, who were still struggling on the bed over the stake.
 
Spike had plenty of gouges and deep wounds in his body in which she could insert the Gem, Faith just had to get to one of them without letting him or Buffy inadvertently knock the small jewel from her hand. As Buffy and Spike wrestled around on the bed for control of the stake, Faith watched for an opening.
 
“What are you waiting for!?” Buffy screamed at her, not sure how much longer she could keep fighting him. How could someone who was in so much pain and so injured be so damn strong?!
 
“Shit!” Faith exclaimed as she tried to reach in to shove the Gem into one of his wounds, but they were moving too much, she was afraid she’d drop it and it would be lost forever, like when you drop one earring on the floor, and you know it has to be right there, but you can’t ever find it again no matter how long you look. She was relatively sure there was a jewelry-eating monster that lived in the floor … it was first cousin to the sock-eating monster that lived in the dryer.

 

Suddenly, Bess came up behind Faith and she grabbed one of Spike’s arms so Buffy could concentrate on the one with the stake in it. After struggling a few moments more, the two blondes had him nearly still and Faith took the opportunity to shove the Gem into a gash in his abdomen, pressing her finger as deep as it would go into the wound.
 
Spike screamed out in renewed rage and pain when she did that and began fighting again, taking Buffy off guard and pulling out of her exhausted grasp. Before she could catch his arm again, he’d embedded the stake into his heart with one fierce, adrenaline and demon powered blow.
 
“Holy fucking shit!” Faith exclaimed, her eyes wide, along with Buffy’s and Bess’ … but nothing happened. Spike didn’t dust, the Gem had done its job.
 
Buffy yanked the stake out and tossed it away, it clattered to the floor and rolled out into the hallway as she watched Spike’s wounds heal like magic. Not just the ones from the Pele demon, but the ones that’d he’d just inflicted on himself, as well. Buffy held her breath as she waited … his physical wounds were healing, what about his psychological ones? Obviously something in there was totally fucked up for him to have that dream about everyone being dead and blaming himself … and she and Dru were some kind of BFFs? Seriously? Never happen; first of all, Dru was just way too skinny and there was something else … what was it? Oh yeah, crazy as a loon!
 
“C’mon, Spike … come back to me,” Buffy muttered as she laid a hand gently on the side of his face, still sitting atop his hips where she’d been trying to hold him still earlier. “You can do it … fight, damn it!”

 
**~**
 
Spike stabbed himself, over and over and over again with the stake. Blood poured out of his wounds and mixed with the rivers of blood from his family on the floor of the great room, soaking the already soggy cash with even more guilt-laden blood … but he didn’t dust and the demon wouldn’t vacate.
 
Spike roared in frustration and flung the stake through the glass doors that lead to the garden and they shattered into a million pieces. Glass shards exploded into the air – they seemed to be suspended there as the sunlight from outside glinted off their sharp, prism-like edges and flashes of miniature rainbows painted the walls and floor of the great room. Spike watched, mesmerized, as the colors danced across his skin and over the pool of blood that he seemed to be immersed in – it was the most hideously repulsive thing he thought he’d ever seen – rainbows of blood.

 

He looked up at the blank faces of his family and friends who surrounded him; unmoving, unseeing, unfeeling. They’d never see another rainbow, never feel sunlight on their faces again, never …
 
Sunlight … sunlight … that was it! The creature of the night would surely leave if he just took it into the sunlight! Spike jumped up and stumbled towards the doors – the shards of glass still hung in the air like demonic snowflakes on invisible strings and he brushed them aside, embedding the sharp edges into his palms, face and chest as he rushed through them to get to the sun, but he barely noticed the pain. Just outside the door, the sun shone brightly and Spike dropped to his knees and lifted his face to it, spreading his arms wide and welcoming the deadly rays onto his blood-stained skin … and still the demon remained – firmly ensconced within the desperate man.
 
“What the bloody hell do I haveta do!?” he demanded of the empty garden when the sun did nothing more than warm his skin and dry the blood that clung to him.
 
“Spike …” Buffy called from behind him, from inside the house.
 
He whirled around, startled; it was the warm Buffy … not that it mattered now; he almost wished for the vampire Buffy, at least she didn’t seem to care that he’d killed everyone. Then another idea – this one would care! She could do it! She was the Slayer, she could rid him of the demon! She could save him!
 
“Slayer!” Spike called back, jumping back up and retrieving the stake from where it landed against the far wall of the garden, then hurrying inside and up to her.
 
“Here we are then!” he greeted her, handing her the stake. “Look what I’ve done! Demons can’t be trusted,” he continued almost giddily, waving his arm at the corpses that lined the room. “Stake me! Stake me good and proper now … it’s your sacred duty.”

 

Buffy took the stake from his hand and Spike held his arms out wide, offering his bare chest to her as he waited for her to end it. She would surely get him out of this hell; put an end to this nightmare, rid him, and the world of the demon within.

 

“Spike,” Buffy spoke softly, tossing the stake into the fireplace where it burst into flames immediately. “This isn’t real. You didn’t hurt anyone.”
 
“What the bloody hell did ya do that for, Slayer!?” Spike asked indignantly, moving to retrieve it from the firebox before it burnt up completely.
 
“Spike! Stop!” she admonished him, grabbing his hand and holding him still. “Listen to me! This is not real. It’s a dream or a … hallucination or something … Everyone’s fine. You haven’t hurt anyone.”
 
“No, you’re wrong … I let the demon out, Buffy – I mean free, like the wind! Like that soddin' lion in that bloody awful song, and now I can’t … can’t put it back. He’s killed the lot of ‘em … he’s killed the bits, he’ll kill you … can’t be trusted, you have to do it, you have to dust me,” Spike begged her, his frightened blue eyes pleading with her to believe him.
 
“No, Spike – I know better. You haven’t killed anyone. There must’ve been something in that acid blood that’s doing this to you. You’re on an acid trip … only, you know, not the good, flower-child kind,” Buffy tried to tease as she pulled him away from the bodies and out into the garden, ducking under the glass shards that still hung in the air.
 
“No … Buffy, don’t trust it. I’m beggin’ ya … dust me, luv. Get the scythe … dust me now ‘fore it’s too late,” Spike continued to plead with her.
 
Buffy turned him around and sat him down on the bench, then knelt down in front of him. “Spike, I’ve seen the demon out before, he doesn’t scare me. Remember when Angel removed your soul … and he thought you’d kill us all, but the man was stronger than the demon then and he’s stronger now. Spike, I have faith in you, I love you, I believe in you, and I know that you aren’t gonna let anything happen to us.”
 
Spike closed his eyes and shook his head, she didn’t understand – how could she? Finally, he opened his eyes again and looked past her into the great room and all the bodies that lay there. “Look at them, Buffy … can’t you see? William the Bloody has no mercy … he has no conscience … he has no bloody scruples – he’s a monster. Vampires are monsters! They even make soddin’ monster movies about them! What the bloody hell does it take?”
 
Buffy blew out a long breath. This was getting her nowhere. Why wasn’t the Gem fixing this or counteracting whatever was in that blood? Then she remembered that it didn’t work on stuff like that – like drugs or alcohol or tranquilizer darts … or apparently acid blood.
 
**~**
 
(Next day) Friday, January 7th, 2011:
 
Buffy stayed with Spike in his hallucination dream the remainder of the night, hoping that perhaps whatever was causing it, she assumed the blood of the Pele demon, would wear off, but it never did. He would never believe her when she told him it wasn’t real; that he could control the demon within and that she trusted him completely. He told her she was a fool and insisted that she dust him over and over again.
 
In the morning, Spike still hadn’t awoken, despite all his physical injuries having been completely healed. Buffy left him in their bed where he'd been since she brought him home from the fight and called an emergency Scooby meeting. She asked to have it at the mansion rather than at the new Council building so she wouldn’t have to leave Spike alone.
 
Despite wanting to stay and help further, Willow and Tara had to get back to their jobs and had left earlier in the week after mixing up many doses of the healing balm for Spike; which Buffy figured pretty much ruined all those Tupperware containers … she’d never get that smell out of them … but that was beside the point. Now everyone that was in town sat around the research table in the mansion: Giles, Wes, Xander, Anya, Bess, and Faith; they listened as Buffy laid out her theory of the demon’s blood for them.
 
When she was done, Giles and Wes both nodded thoughtfully, but had no answers for her. There was nothing in the texts or the new demon database that would indicate such a side-effect of the blood.
 
Bess bit her lip and listened as the others discussed possible remedies, but ultimately they offered no real answers for Buffy. Finally, when they’d grown quiet, their ideas raised, discussed, and for the most part, dismissed, Bess spoke up.
 
“This might sound … crazy, but… ummm,” she began hesitantly, swallowing hard when all eyes turned to her. She cleared her throat and sat up straighter in her chair. “You said it was a Pele demon and so … I was thinking … I wonder if it’s something like the curse of the Pele Goddess…”

 

“Which is?” Buffy prodded when the girl didn’t continue.
 
“Well … uhhh … it’s something like if you take a piece of the Goddess’ home, then you’re like cursed forever with bad luck – it’s a Hawaiian thing …” Bess continued. “I just wonder if maybe the Pele demon is like that … maybe we need to, you know, send him back where he came from to lift the curse.”
 
Buffy furrowed her brow and looked at the small blonde. “When did you go to Hawai’i?”
 
“Oh … I didn’t! I just … I met a guy from there and … he would tell me stories about it sometimes and that’s like a pretty big thing, I guess. The Goddess Pele created the volcanoes … she’s like the Goddess of Fire or something…” Bess explained.

 

“Indeed,” Giles agreed. “There is a quite popular myth that anyone taking pieces of the volcanic rock or even sand off the islands is cursed … but honestly, it’s simply a scare tactic created by park rangers to keep people from taking the lava rock from the volcanoes…”
 
“Oh, no, I don’t think so!” Bess disagreed. “It’s real. I mean … apparently people that take rocks send them back all the time and beg for the forgiveness of the Goddess… I mean – Troy totally believed it and … he was pretty smart guy, not like a lunatic or anything.”
 
Buffy looked at Giles and Wes and they both just shrugged. They’d heard crazier ideas…
 
“So, your theory is, if we go get the body of the demon, assuming anything’s left of it and we can find it, and take it back where it came from … which we don’t actually know where that is, but assuming we could figure that out, then maybe this curse would be lifted and Spike would wake up…” Buffy summarized.
 
Bess shrugged and scrunched up her face; it had sounded better in her head. “It’s just an idea…”
 
“Well, it’s one that involves me doing something other than trying to convince Spike that he’s not a murderer, so I’m for it,” Buffy agreed.
 
Looking at Giles and Wes, she continued, “Why don’t you two try to figure out where this demon is from … it had a longer name … Pele … something, what was it?” she asked, looking at Faith.

 

“You expect me to remember that? That was like a week ago!” Faith shook her head and rolled her eyes. “I have a hard time remembering what I had for breakfast.”
 
“Ok, Faith and I will go to the fight club and see if the body’s there and get the whole name and I’ll call you with it,” Buffy told Giles, standing up.
 
“Bess, do you still know this guy … this Hawaiian guy?” Buffy wondered.
 
“Uhhh … well, not since … I haven’t seen him for a while,” Bess explained.
 
“Well, I’m guessing that he’ll remember you - you tend to make an impression,” Buffy teased her lightly. “Why don’t you see if he knows anything else about returning stuff to the volcano – like are there any rituals or sacrifices that have to go with it…”
 
“Uhhh … sure, but … I don’t actually have his number or … address. We just sort of … found each other on campus sometimes,” Bess stammered.
 
“Do you know his last name?” Buffy wondered, but her hope for that was thin.
 
Bess’ eyes went wide and she smiled. “Yeah, I do! Malu … Troy Malu.”

 

Buffy snorted a laugh. “And I thought you weren’t listening to my sage, motherly advice about getting their names…” she quipped. “Have Annie look it up on the computer; if she can’t find it, call Willow – she could find Osama Bin Laden … I swear, I don’t know why the army doesn’t just ask her to track him down.”
 
“Ok, will do,” Bess agreed, hopeful that she’d actually contributed something helpful.
 
“What do you want us to do, Buff?” Xander asked, indicating him and Anya.
 
Buffy smiled. “Watch the kids for me until we get back, then pack your bags, if everything works out, you’re going to Hawai’i.”
 
**~**
 
At the fight club Buffy got the full name of the demon, Pele Haleakala, and phoned Giles with that information. The body, however, was long gone.
 
“Raj clean up good – dead demon, big smell,” the thin boy explained to Buffy and Faith when they questioned him about the demon’s body.
 
“I know – I’m sure you did, but what did you do with it?” Buffy asked.
 
“Big red box,” Raj offered, heading out into the alley and showing them the big red box he’d put it in – the dumpster.
 
“Oh, swell…” Buffy moaned, rolling her eyes.
 
“Let me guess,” Faith complained. “Fieldtrip to the city dump … that odoriferous SunnyD hotspot.”
 
**~**
 
Three hours and fifty tons of stinking, rotting garbage later, Buffy and Faith walked into the great room, their prize, the stinking, burnt and rotting body of the Pele demon wrapped in garbage bags, firmly ensconced in the garage.
 
“Whoa … eau de garbáge,” Xander quipped with a bad French accent as he came out of the kitchen, wrinkling his nose when the two Slayers walked in.
 
“Want a hug?” Faith teased stepping nearer him and opening her arms.
 
“‘No’ would not be a strong enough answer to that offer,” Xander continued as he took a step back from the odoriferousness. “We have company,” he pointed out, waving a hand towards the research table. “Bess’ friend is here.”
 
Buffy and Faith followed Xander’s hand gesture with their eyes. Bess, Giles, Wes, and Troy were seated at the research table; Troy seemed to be explaining something to the others.
 
“Whoa doggie…” Faith muttered under her breath. “Now there’s a guy I could talk to all night long…”

 

“I think he’s with Bess …” Buffy pointed out.
 
“What!? I’m just gonna talk to him. Not every day you get to talk to someone built like that! And look at that hair! Wow … wouldn’t you just love to … run your words through it?”
 
Buffy laughed and rolled her eyes. “He might be a psycho-ward escapee…” she pointed out.
 
“And … your point is?” Faith wondered, finally pulling her eyes away from the well built Hawaiian who was sitting next to Bess at the table and turning her gaze to Buffy.
 
“None … I’m pointless,” Buffy admitted, shaking her head as she walked past Faith towards the assembled group.
 
“Hi guys!” Buffy called as she reached the table with Faith close behind.
 
“Dear Lord, Buffy!” Giles exclaimed covering his nose and mouth with one hand. “What did you have to do, wrest the … uhhh … artifact away from an angry skunk?”
 
Buffy clicked her tongue and rolled her eyes even as the others at the table moved away from her and Faith. “Oh, it’s not that bad … I’ve smelled worse. That Citroen you used to have was pretty rank, as I recall.
 
“Hi,” Buffy continued, looking at Troy and extending her grimy right hand. “I’m Buffy … Bess’ mom. You must be Troy.”
 
“Uhhh … yeah, hi, it’s … uhhh … nice to meet you, Mrs. Weatherford,” the young man stammered, trying not to grimace when he took Buffy’s dirty and stinking hand to shake it.
 
“Weckerly, actually … it’s Weckerly,” Bess corrected him. “And she’s not usually this smelly…” the blonde added as she stopped breathing completely.
 
“And I’m Faith,” the brunette interjected, stepping between Troy and Buffy.
 
“Nice to meet you, ma’am,” he offered politely as he shook her hand too.
 
Faith’s brows shot up and she turned back and looked at Buffy, mouthing ‘ma’am?’ with wide eyes. When the fuck had she become a ma’am?
 
Buffy laughed as Faith backed up dejectedly and plopped down in one of the chairs. So much for the talking marathon.
 
“So, what’s the sitch? Do we think there might be a curse we can break by returning the …uhhh… artifact?” Buffy asked as she sat next to Faith and everyone else moved to the other end of the table. “Hey, where are you guys going?”

 

“Upwind,” Wes explained as they all took seats as far away from the pair of Slayers as they could reasonably get and still talk to them.
 
“Indeed,” Giles answered her, trying to breathe through his mouth. “Troy was telling us that his grandfather is a kahuna … a traditional Hawaiian priest, and he would be able to perform the repatriation of the … artifact.”
 
“Do we know where it’s from? Like is it for sure from Hawai’i?” Buffy questioned, leaning forward and causing all the others to lean backwards just that much farther.

 
“Yes, Haleakalā is on the island of Maui … it is said to be a volcano created in ancient times by the goddess Pele,” Giles began.

“My grandfather has done many apology and forgiveness ceremonies and returned tons of rocks and other sacred objects to the crater. I’m sure it won’t be a problem,” Troy interjected.



{{Click here to see sunrise and more on Haleakalā on YouTube }}





 
“Good, that’s good,” Buffy murmured to herself more than anyone else. “Do you think there’s really a curse or is that just … you know, a scare tactic the park rangers made up?” she asked Troy.
 
The young man shrugged. “My grandfather believes … many people that have taken souvenirs believe … but maybe it’s more like karma than an actual curse or just a case of things going wrong and people needing to place blame when really it’s just, you know – life.
 
Buffy smiled at him. Bess had been right, he wasn’t a lunatic – despite his unwise and perhaps crazy choice to call Faith ‘ma’am’.
 
“If you just want to mail it to my grandfather, he can take care of it for you. Bess said something about someone actually going – you really don’t need to do that,” Troy offered.

 

“What!? No!” Anya piped up from where she was listening in the kitchen doorway. “You said we could go! I already started packing … mentally,” she whined, looking at Buffy. “Xander said we could get umbrella drinks and grass skirts and eat a pig that’s been roasted in the ground and I’m quite hopeful that I can meet Commander McGarrett… you know, from Hawai’i 5-0? He’s very nicely shaped with exceptional muscle tone and his tattoos are quite intriguing; I wouldn’t mind studying them very closely and for an inappropriate amount of time…”
 
“Ahhnnn…” Xander moaned. “Steve McGarrett is a character on a TV show … not a real policeman.”
 
“I know that, silly – but he must be someone – I mean, he’s not a robot … is he? You don’t think he’s a robot do you? That would be quite disappointing… although…” Anya replied, letting her voice trail off at the end as she pondered the possibilities of a McGarrett-bot.

 

“Ahnnn…” Xander groaned, interrupting her thought process, which by now he knew by heart, and making her frown.
 
“It’s ok, Anya. I think with this particular artifact, it might be best if someone … accompanies it,” Buffy assured her. “Faith, you should probably go with them … just in case of trouble.”
 
“Yeah, sure … I guess these old, creaky bones can stand all the physical strain. ‘Course, you never know … being that I’m so ancient and all,” she replied dourly. Ma’am my ass…
 
“Great!” Buffy exclaimed, ignoring Faith’s grumbling about Troy talking to the Slayer respectfully, as in ‘respect of his elders’.
 
“Anya, why don’t you get three tickets booked for as soon as possible and I’ll get you some money to pay for them,” Buffy began handing out assignments. “Xander, can you and Faith get the … artifact boxed up so it will pass airline security – like the … uhhh … other artifact we sometimes transport? Troy, could you make the arrangements with your grandfather? Just let someone know where and when to meet him? The sooner the better.”
 
Everyone nodded their agreement as Buffy stood up. “Do you think I need a shower?” she asked rhetorically, raising an arm as if to check for BO.
 
“YES!” came the unanimous, and immediate, response from the group.
 
**~**
 
(Later that afternoon):
 
Buffy got a shower and went in to check on Spike. It didn’t look like he’d even moved at all since she’d left that morning, even his head was in the exact same spot. Buffy sighed heavily and retrieved a large duffel bag out of the back of their closet and sat it down on the bed next to her husband. Tears stung her eyes as she opened it and pulled out a cellophane wrapped bundle of hundred dollar bills from it … $10,000 worth, to give Anya. The bag contained Spike’s winnings from the fight, $500,000 – Mr. Andreev had given it to her as they were loading Spike’s unconscious body into the minivan after the bout. She didn’t know how much the plane tickets, hotels, meals (including umbrella drinks and luau-roasted pig), and rental car would cost – whatever was leftover, Anya could give back to her later. Of course, if Anya actually got the opportunity to meet Alex O'Loughlin … aka: Steve McGarrett, that would be priceless.
 
Buffy smiled at the thought, but the small ray of sunshine that Anya’s ramblings had projected faded quickly and the direness of their situation returned in an instant. Buffy looked sadly from the money to Spike. She shook her head as her chin began to quiver and tears streaked her face. What if this whole curse idea didn’t work? It had to be an unimaginably long shot. She’d given him Slayer blood and he had the Gem, neither of which had healed him – not his mind, anyway. Their books and research came up with nothing – no other ideas to try. What good would half a million dollars do them if their children lost their father? If she lost her husband, her friend, her soul mate?

 

That money couldn’t teach Dani how to pull off a Cruyff Turn or help her perfect her penalty kick strategies; it couldn’t teach Billy, show him, what it means to be a man, a husband, a father; it couldn’t help and encourage Annie to fulfill her potential, whether it be with mastery of languages or dancing or anything else she wanted to try; it couldn’t keep their children safe and help Buffy thwart the prophecies that surrounded them; it couldn’t rock their littlest bit to sleep or sing her lullabies or see her first steps or hear her first words; it couldn’t walk any of their daughters down the aisle on their wedding days and it would be no comfort to Buffy on cold, lonely nights. That money couldn’t buy love and love was the one thing Spike could give; a never-ending supply of it seemed to exist in his heart for them.
 
“Spike, please wake up …” Buffy cried as she dropped the duffle bag onto the floor and crawled across the bed to him. She cuddled against his side, but he didn’t seem to even know she was there – his arm didn’t snake around her, pulling her closer, holding her tight to him; he didn’t even moan happily when her warm skin touched his cool body. Nothing was getting through; nothing was escaping from the prison his mind was locked in.
 
Buffy didn’t know how long she laid there crying, begging Spike to please wake up. She was pulled from her despondency by a tentative knock on the bedroom door.
 
“Buffy?” Giles called. “Anya’s booked the flights … they’re to leave this evening. They need to get home and pack and I need to get back to the shop…”
 
Buffy got up from the bed, closed and secured the robe she’d put on after her shower, and opened the door. “I’m sorry to wake you…” Giles apologized.
 
“I wasn’t asleep,” Buffy assured him as she wiped at her eyes.
 
“No change?” Giles queried, looking beyond her at Spike.
 
“No…” Buffy answered, turning to follow her Watcher’s gaze.

 

“I’m so sorry, Buffy,” Giles offered.
 
Buffy turned back and gave him a small smile. “Do you think this curse thing will work?”
 
Giles gave her his patented Giles head shrug, the one he gave when he didn’t really want to burst her bubble but didn’t want to lie, either. Buffy sighed and nodded.
 
“Troy seems like quite a nice chap,” Giles said, instead. “He’s got everything arranged with his grandfather for the ceremony on the crater at sunrise. I suppose we’ll know more when it’s completed.”
 
“Yeah, I guess so…” Buffy sighed again. She’d been clinging to the curse idea since Bess suggested it, because she had nothing else to cling to and it involved doing something, but now the reality of it was starting to set in. If there was a curse, you’d think it would be documented in some of Giles’ musty old books.
 
“Anyway,” Giles began. “Anya and Xander are heading out to pack; they’ve left JJ here but will be back to drop off his overnight bag and pick up the money and Faith later. Bess and Troy are in the basement with the children playing video games, Anya just put MacKenzie down for a nap only a short while ago, and Faith’s gone to run a short patrol before she has to leave…”
 
“Ok, I get it – I’m the adult in charge. I need to stop wallowing in self-pity and find something to feed the small humans in the house for dinner…” Buffy summarized. “I’ll be right out … I just need to change and take care of a couple of things here.”
 
Giles nodded and backed away from the door.
 
Buffy took the duffel bag and put it back in the closet, leaving out the one bundle of cash to give Anya later. She looked down at Spike again, for all intents and purposes he appeared dead; un-breathing, unmoving, not even a raised brow or the twitch of a finger or even a small bob of his Adam's apple – so un-Spike-like. It was disheartening and more than a little frightening for Buffy to see him so very still, Spike couldn’t hold still for more than five seconds if you paid him a million dollars. It was as if he wasn’t even in there, like his heart … his soul, had vacated and he was simply an empty shell waiting to be placed in his casket and buried. What if he never woke up?
 
After getting dressed, Buffy dropped a soft, lingering kiss on Spike’s lips as she ran her fingers lightly through his hair, straightening his curls as best she could. Truthfully, she was hoping in the back of her mind for the magical kiss, ‘Prince Charming’ effect to wake him; but it didn’t work. She sighed and headed downstairs; her first stop was the bat cave. She figured if Troy had stuck around this long, even after meeting Bess’ apparently deranged and smelly mother, maybe she should re-introduce herself now that she looked slightly less like she belonged in the mental ward at Sunnydale General; of course, looks could be deceiving. Maybe the boy would stay for dinner and Buffy could fulfill her motherly duty and embarrass Bess further. Since Spike wasn’t here, the start of the Spanish Inquisition would apparently fall to her shoulders, as well.
 
**~**
 
Later that evening …
 
“So, Troy,” Buffy began as the family, minus Spike but plus Troy, sat at the dining room table. Piles of Chinese take-out containers filled the center of the table, Buffy’s solution to finding something for the small … or not so small in the case of Troy, humans in the house to eat. “What brings you from paradise to Sunnydale?”
 
Troy quickly chewed and swallowed the Chow Mein he’d just stuffed into his mouth. “College,” he replied. “I’m a sophomore at UC Sunnydale.”
 
“They don’t have colleges in Hawai’i?” Buffy wondered, not sure why anyone could willingly come to Sunnydale if given the choice.
 
“Oh … sure, but none that would give me a scholarship or that have the kind of world-class anthropology and archeology department they have there,” Troy explained.
 
Buffy raised her brows, not aware UC Sunnydale had anything ‘world-class’ going for it other than their high death rate. “So, you’re studying anthropology and archeology, then?”
 
“Yeah, and history. I’m mostly interested in contemporary archeology,” Troy continued, taking another bite of the food.
 
“Isn’t that an oxymoron?” Buffy wondered.
 


Troy laughed easily. “You’d think so, but … it’s all relative, eighteenth and even nineteenth century artifacts and civilizations interest me. That’s the other thing about Sunnydale,” he continued. “Rumors of buried missions and churches - even whole civilizations, abound. They say the town’s been swallowed by earthquakes several times and all those ruins, and the mysteries they're hiding, are simply stacked up under our feet, waiting for someone to discover them.”
 
Buffy smiled at him, thinking that she could show him a few of those ruins herself. The Master’s church popped to mind. “Old wife’s tales,” she assured him. Troy shrugged, obviously not wanting to argue with Bess’s mother but not agreeing with her either.
 
“So, what kind of scholarship do you have?” Buffy continued.
 
“Wrestling …”
 
“He’s an excellent wrestler,” Bess interjected brightly.
 
Buffy cocked a brow at her. “I bet he is…” she murmured and Bess bit her bottom lip and looked down at her plate, wishing she had kept her mouth shut.
 
“So, how did you meet Bess?” Buffy changed topics, looking back at Troy.
 
“We met on campus,” Bess offered, trying to get Troy off the hot-seat.
 
“Oh, when you were … not going to class?” Buffy blurted out before she could stop herself.
 
Bess cleared her throat and looked down at her plate of Ginger Beef again. “Yeah,” she admitted.
 
“Caught her fondling my …” Troy began and Buffy’s eyes went wide, looking around the table at the younger children, who were, for once, listening to the adult’s conversation. “…bike.”

 

Buffy let out a breath and took a drink of her water. “So, you ride a … motorbike, I assume, not a bicycle,” she continued after a moment.
 
Troy laughed again. It was a deep and easy laugh and made it hard for Buffy to be too ‘Inquisition-y’ on him. “Yeah,” he agreed. “Taught her how to ride … she’s a natural. Strong and graceful – really amazing for a girl her size.”
 
Bess’ eyes went wide and she looked at Buffy who was now looking at Troy with annoyance. “So … you’re the one my husband has to thank for that,” she stated coldly.
 
Troy shifted under her gaze, moving uncomfortably in his seat, not sure what’d he’d done or said wrong. “I … uhhh … will your husband be joining us?” he asked at last.
 
“Not tonight, but I know he’s going to want to meet you…”
 
“Wow! Look at the time!” Bess exclaimed, laughing nervously and jumping up. “Troy … I know you have that … thing … that really important thing ... that you’re probably late for,” she continued, pulling him up by the arm.
 
“What? … I … Oh, yeah, the … thing,” he stammered his agreement and stood up, leaving the food on his plate barely touched.
 
Buffy suppressed a grin; her first time as the Inquisitionist and she’d reduced them to using the ubiquitous ‘thing’ that someone was always late for. Spike would be so proud. “Oh, that’s a shame,” she offered sympathetically. “You barely touched your food. Are you sure you can’t stay longer?”
 
Troy looked between Buffy and Bess who shook her head once decisively and pulled on his arm. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Weckerly … I do have that … thing and I can’t be late. It was very nice to meet all of you though,” he called back over his shoulder as Bess pulled him out of the dining room into the great room, not stopping until they were outside in the garden.
 
“I’m so sorry about her … she’s not usually like that, all twenty questions and stuff,” Bess apologized when they were outside.
 
Troy shrugged. “It’s ok – I have a mother too, I know how they can be," he assured her. "Say, do you … I mean …uhhh ... I missed you,” Troy stuttered out, reaching a hand out and touching her face.
 
Bess backed up a step and pulled her bottom lip between her teeth. “Troy … I …”
 
Troy dropped his hand and stuffed both fists into his pockets. “Sorry – I just thought …”
 
“No. I’m sorry. I just think … maybe …” Bess faltered. What was she supposed to say to him? Her body longed for him – it had been a long time since she’d felt a man’s warm touch on her cool skin; longer than she’d ever gone since … since that fateful night in London when her whole life changed. But Faith’s words about true love and solitary hunters hung in her mind and she really didn’t want to be a solitary hunter. She didn’t want to be a vampire or even a Slayer, for that matter – not if it meant what Faith had insinuated. She just wanted to be a girl and she wanted stinky flowers and sappy love notes and long walks on the beach and she wanted to watch Shrek and really understand that look that Buffy and Spike got every single time Annie made them watch it on movie night.
 
“Maybe we could … do you like to dance?” Troy wondered as he studied her face and saw a range of emotions flash through her bluer than blue eyes.
 
Bess hugged her arms around herself to keep from reaching out to him and looked up to meet his eyes. “I’m not … I don’t know …” she stammered, not sure if she knew how to dance, if the dance her family was doing when she came back was any indication of how people danced these days. “Yeah, I do ... I mean, I used to,” she finally answered, giving him a smile. “I’m not sure how good I am, though.”
 
Troy smiled at her, a dazzling smile that reached his eyes and made them sparkle. “Are you kidding? I’m sure you’re a great dancer,” he assured her.
 
“How do you know?” Bess wondered, her brow furrowed with concern.
 
Troy’s smile broke into that deep, easy laugh again and Bess couldn’t help but smile although she didn’t quite know what the joke was. “Trust me … I know. How about tomorrow night? I’ll pick you up around eight?”
 
“To go dancing?” she clarified.
 
Troy nodded. “If you play your cards right, I might even buy you a drink and a blooming onion …”
 
“My cards?” Bess questioned, afraid to know what that meant. “What cards would I have to play?”
 
The smile never left Troy’s lips. “That one – right there.”
 
“What … I don’t …” Bess stammered, shaking her head.
 
“Just be you, Bess – I missed you.”
 
Bess smiled and dipped her head, letting her hair fall over her face. If she had a pulse, she would’ve actually blushed. “I can probably manage that.”


**~**

{{Click here to hear Comfortably Numb – Pink Floyd on YouTube  }}

 Hello?
Is there anybody in there?
Just nod if you can hear me.
Is there anyone at home?
Come on, now,
I hear you're feeling down.
Well I can ease your pain
Get you on your feet again.
Relax.
I'll need some information first.
Just the basic facts.
Can you show me where it hurts?

There is no pain you are receding
A distant ship, smoke on the horizon.
You are only coming through in waves.
Your lips move but I can't hear what you're saying.
When I was a child I had a fever
My hands felt just like two balloons.
Now I've got that feeling once again
I can't explain you would not understand
This is not how I am.
I have become comfortably numb.

O.K.
Just a little pinprick.
There'll be no more aaaaaaaaah!
But you may feel a little sick.
Can you stand up?
I do believe it's working, good.
That'll keep you going through the show
Come on it's time to go.

There is no pain you are receding
A distant ship, smoke on the horizon.
You are only coming through in waves.
Your lips move but I can't hear what you're saying.
When I was a child
I caught a fleeting glimpse
Out of the corner of my eye.
I turned to look but it was gone
I cannot put my finger on it now
The child is grown,
The dream is gone.
I have become comfortably numb.
End Notes:
TBC ... ok ... I know there have been lots of evil cliffies lately, I hope this one isn't quite so evil and leaves you with a small glimmer of hope. Thanks to everyone who has stuck up for Spike against my evil, yet devilishly handsome, muse. I appreciate your help and all your suggestions to subdue his bloodlust! {hugs}
I'm Falling Down by Passion4Spike
Author's Notes:
Can Buffy find the cure for Spike? Is there really a curse from the demon or something much closer to home that’s the problem?
**
Music Referenced:
I’m Falling Down (Moonshot), James Marsters http://youtu.be/s-6nrEk0Ux0
 **
ScreenCaps courtesy of ScreenCap Paradise: http://www.screencap-paradise.com/?cat=3
**
Thanks to 'epd4' for betaing this chapter. Any mistakes are mine because I can't stop fiddling ...
Later that night … Friday, January 7th, 2011:
 
Buffy walked in the garden doors of the mansion braced to see the mutilated bodies of her friends and family staring back at her in blind terror, but they were gone. In fact, the floor was spotless; every drop of blood that had covered the room seemed to be gone, replaced with the unmistakable odor of bleach and lemony-fresh Mr. Clean. Dream Spike had a maid?

 

“Spike?” Buffy called tentatively as she walked further into the room, looking through the door into the kitchen as she passed. “Spike? Are you here?”
 
Buffy checked the whole house, but there was no sign of Spike or the bodies. Upstairs in their room, she stepped up to the window and looked out as she tried to think where he would’ve gone and she found her answer almost immediately. In their backyard stood a cemetery … full of headstones and statuary and thirteen freshly dug graves … Spike was working on the fourteenth, smaller than the rest … baby sized. Each grave had a casket next to it; she knew what was in the caskets.
 
“Oh, Spike…” Buffy moaned before she turned and hurried down the hall, downstairs, and out to the backyard.
 
“Spike, baby … what are you doing?” Buffy asked as she approached him. He was covered in dirt and blood and was clearly exhausted from hand digging so many graves. His body was barely functioning as he stepped on the shovel and slowly lifted another clump of soil out of the last hole, then repeated the procedure robotically, as if afraid that if he stopped, he wouldn’t be able to start again.
 
“Needed a proper burial, they did … couldn’t just leave ‘em there, Slayer,” Spike explained, his voice resigned, regretful and exhausted.
 
Buffy walked up to him and easily pulled the shovel from his hands. “Spike, you don’t have to do this – this isn’t real. You haven’t killed anyone. I’m gonna get you outta here, I promise.”
 
Spike snorted softly and dropped down to his knees and began digging with his hands. “Yeah? Gone completely sack o’ hammers, you have. Can’t see the truth when it’s right in front o’ your bloody eyes. A Slayer that won’t bloody slay … soddin’ pathetic, you are, a disgrace to the Slayer name.”

 

“Spike, please stop,” Buffy admonished him, pulling him up by his upper arms and out of the small grave onto the grass next to it.
 
“Buffy, please just let me finish … then do your sacred duty … dust me, put me outta my bloody misery,” Spike begged her, his blue eyes sad and haggard as they looked up at her.
 
Buffy went down to her knees next to him and took his face in her hands. “Spike, listen to me. This is not real. I know it seems real, but it’s not. Do you remember the fight – with the Pele?”
 
Spike nodded, his eyes down in shame, unable to meet hers. “I remember.”
 
“Then what’s the next thing you remember?”
 
“Digging outta m’ grave … Dru was there waiting, just like before. I’d killed ya in that bloody fire, Dru said she saved you … turned you,” Spike related.
 
“Ok, just think about the absurdity of that for a minute. First of all, Dru’s been dusted for a long time, second of all, she’d never turn me – she hates me – she’d be happy to see me dead - she'd probably dance on my grave, and third of all, I’m not a vampire. Here – feel my heart,” she directed him, pulling one of his hands up and placing it over her heart.
 
“You’re not real … some kinda figment, you are,” Spike explained. “Dusted you and Dru earlier – just me now … me and my handiwork,” he continued waving a hand at the graves behind him.
 
“No, Spike, you’re wrong – I’m the one thing here that is real. If you’d just wake up, you’d see. The babies are all fine – our friends are all fine. You won the fight, you got the money – now you just need to come back to me, baby. Everything will be fine; just wake up,” Buffy admonished him.
 
Spike shook his head in disagreement. “If that’s true then you should dust me in m’ sleep, Buffy. Can’t you see what I’ve done … what I’ll do to our family?” he questioned again, waving a hand out towards the graves. “Can’t stop the monster now … let ‘im out and can’t put him back in his cage. What do I haveta do ta prove it? Kill you too? Rip your bloody heart out while you watch? Is that what you want?”
 
“You know what? Yeah, that is what I want!” Buffy insisted, her frustration and fear suddenly bleeding into anger. Buffy pushed him away and stood up. “C’mon – rip my heart out – I dare you! Show me the monster, Spike!”

 

“You don’t want to see it, Slayer,” Spike warned, standing up to face her. hands on his hips.
 
“Yes, actually, I do,” Buffy argued. “Show me! What are you waiting for? A written invitation? C’mon, Spike – let’s dance!” Buffy demanded, pushing him hard in the chest then moving forward as he stumbled backwards and pushing him again, and again – each time harder than the last. “Show me the fucking monster!”
 
“You’re bloody close t’ bringing him out, Slayer,” Spike threatened, his ire rising.
 
“I don’t think so … I don’t think there’s any monster left in you, Spike! I think you’re just an empty shell of a demon … all filled up with guilt and no guts. Oh boo-hoo … Spike can’t support his family, Spike’s not half the man William was – without Angel’s money, you're nothing – a failure! Angel’s a better man and a stronger demon than you! Maybe I should’ve married him!!” Buffy spat at her husband, shoving him in the chest again and making Spike lurch backwards.
 
Spike turned and caught his balance on a headstone in the backyard cemetery, when he turned back around to face Buffy the demon surfaced. Buffy almost rolled her eyes, even catatonic, acid-tripping Spike hated Angel – it was almost too easy to bring the vampire out in Spike with barbs like that.

 

“Maybe you should’ve …” Spike growled. “Ponce could a’ sent you to Evil, Inc. for the ole poke and prod instead a’ Vision Girl. Wonder if they woulda found a heart in there, Slayer – or just a shriveled up walnut? Wonder what I’ll find when I rip it outta your chest…”
 
“Try it, Spike … I’m right here,” Buffy offered, holding her arms out to her sides. “Go for it … let's see what's really inside me. A soft gooey center or a big ole heart of stone.”
 
Spike took a step towards her but didn’t charge, didn’t attack.
 
“What are you waiting for!?” she screamed at him. “I thought the monster was out of its cage!!

"♫Born free ... as free as the wind blows...♫" Buffy crooned sarcastically, her hands on her hips. "I’m standing right here … hot, juicy Slayer bait, just waiting for the demon to have one good day. Today’s your day, Spike! Put another notch on your belt … chalk up another Slayer for William the Bloody!”
 
When he still didn’t move, Buffy stepped forward and hit him with a right hook in the jaw, rocking his head to the side. “C’mon! Fight! Kill me!” she demanded, hitting him again. “Fight, goddamnit!”
 
Spike roared and suddenly lunged at her, knocking her to the ground and pummeling her face and neck with his fists. Buffy hit up at him through the barrage, several of her blows connecting with his jaw and nose while trying to defend herself from his attack. Then she pushed up with her feet and hips and flipped them over, reversing their positions and giving her the advantage of hitting down instead of up.



Spike growled and tried to block her punches and was finally able to flip them again. The pair rolled around on the soft grass of their backyard cemetery for some time, trading blows, trading the advantage back and forth until finally they rolled into one of the large, open graves.
 
Buffy landed hard on her back, Spike falling on top of her, knocking the wind out out of her and sending sharp, shooting pains out from her lungs where they’d been momentarily deflated. Spike roared in victory and dropped his fangs down to her neck, stopping just as they barely pricked her hot, salty skin. This was the moment the demon savored … those few short minutes that would bring the death of another Slayer – the fight was only the build up to this; this was the reward; the fight was the foreplay, this was the orgasm.

 

“What are you waiting for?” Buffy asked, her voice barely a whisper as she tried to breathe and get air back into her painful lungs.
 
“Can’t rush this bit, pet … need to savor it, I’ll remember this moment forever. Reckon you will too … only thing is, your forever will be a mite shorter than mine,” Spike explained, his breath cool against her skin as he spoke, his voice deep and threatening and full of lust – bloodlust.
 
Buffy closed her eyes and waited, she didn’t fight, didn’t move – but still Spike didn’t bite down. She could feel him battling the demon, his fangs pressing slightly harder against her skin then pulling back, just barely breaking the surface and drawing small droplets of blood. She never doubted his ability to control the monster within, but Spike had lost his belief in William’s soul; he needed to prove it to himself, he needed to know that this crazy dream world wasn’t some portent of the future; it wasn’t him and it wasn’t real.

Finally, after what seemed an eternity, Spike cried out in anguish and pushed back from her neck, then scrambled off her to the other end of the grave and huddled in the cold dirt, covering his head with his arms as tears streamed down his face.

 

“Spike …” Buffy called softly as she sat up and moved towards him. “Spike, you’re stronger than the demon – this isn’t real; this massacre, it would never happen,” she assured him again.
 
“Nearly left you, Buffy … left you alone, you and the bits…” Spike stammered, looking up at her with frightened, misty eyes. “You were right … I was so bloody stupid. Just wanted … wanted to fix it, fix everything for ya – nearly bought it, thought I had. Then you … you were there, in the fire … God, Buffy, thought I’d killed us both, luv. How can you forgive me? Can’t bloody forgive m’self.”

 

Buffy shook her head and laid her palm softly on the side of his face. “We’re fine, Spike … everything’s fine. There’s nothing to forgive – you did what you had to and you won – you fixed it. You just need to …”
 
Suddenly a bright beam of sunlight broke through the darkness and shone down on them. It was so bright, it momentarily blinded Buffy, when she blinked and opened her eyes again, she was awake, back in their room, lying next to him in the bed. She reached a hand out and touched his face and Spike opened his eyes slowly, blinking against a shaft of light that shone in through a small opening in the heavy curtains of their room.
 
“Buffy…” Spike murmured, reaching a hand out to touch her face.
 
“Hey … welcome back, Sleeping Beauty,” she whispered as tears of relief welled in her eyes.
 
“Reckon that makes you m’ Prince Charming,” Spike offered, his voice hoarse with emotion, as he tentatively stroked her cheek with his fingertips.
 
Just then, the phone rang. Buffy turned her head and kissed Spike's fingers before shifting and reaching over Spike to pick it up from the bedside table on his side.
 
“Buff!” It was Xander. “Did it work? The … artifact’s been given back to the volcano – the priest guy just finished. It was way cool - you should've seen it! It was like this ...”

"Xan..."

"... amazing sunrise and the sky was all ..."

"Xand..."

"...orange and yellow and like pink or something ..."

"X..."

"It felt like we were on top of the world! That would be the literal top of the world, not the proverbial one ... 'cos, you know, basically it was a funeral ..."

"Xan..."

"But I'm not sure we were, 'cos isn't Everest the tallest mountain? So, I guess that would be the actual top of the world..."

"Xand..."

"But, anyway, I digress. So, after the sky turned this pink-orangesicle color...what would you call a pink-orangesicle color, anyway?"



"Coral ... lustful coral!" Anya interjected from behind Xander, yelling into the phone.

"Xander!" Buffy screamed, finally able to get a word in edgewise.

"What?!"

"How much caffeine have you had?" Buffy wondered.

"Oh - well ... ten gallons? I'm just guessing. We haven't slept yet ... I mean since ... I don't remember, yesterday? Is it still yesterday there? Or is it tomorrow here? I don't know what day it actually is. I'm gonna say ten gallons, at least... yeah ... that's about right," Xander babbled.
 
Buffy laughed lightly. “You can sleep now, it worked, Xand … he’s awake.”
 
“Who’s the man?!” Xander whooped in celebration.
 
“You’re the man … the Xan-man,” Buffy agreed before thanking him and telling him to have a good time in Hawai’i – on them.


 
“What’s that about, then? Harris gone 'John Moschitta' on ya?” Spike asked when Buffy hung up.
 
Buffy shrugged. "He's just a little wired."

She gave him a sly smile and added, “Looks like maybe Xander’s your Prince Charming … not me.”
 
“Bloody hell … he better’ve shaved before he kissed me!” Spike exclaimed. “Not too keen on whisker burn marring my pretty face.”
 
Buffy laughed and touched his lips lightly with the tips of her fingers. “It’s ok, you’ve got the Gem back … it’ll protect you from the dreaded five o'clock shadow of your handsome Prince Charming.”
 
“The Gem? But…” Spike began to question and object and Buffy silenced him by pressing her fingers harder onto his lips.
 
Buffy sat up cross-legged on the bed next to him. “Once upon a time…” she began to tell him the story of what had transpired during his big sleep.
 
When she was done, she asked, “Do you remember the dream?”
 
“Yeah,” he admitted sadly. “I remember. I’m so bloody sorry you saw that, Buffy.”
 
“Spike, did you really think you couldn’t stop the demon? Is that why you wouldn’t wake up?” she asked in earnest.
 
Spike looked over at the shaft of sunlight that had broken into their room through the small gap between the curtains. Dust motes danced and shimmered in the golden, early morning rays of the sun and he reached out as if he could physically touch the beam of light … as if he was searching for the answer there. He turned his hand over and over in the sunlight, momentarily mesmerized by the warmth and the way it tingled on his skin.

 

“Spike?”
 
Spike dropped his hand down and looked back at his wife, still sitting next to him in the bed. “Yeah …” he admitted. “It … Buffy, it hadn’t been that strong since … well since I’ve known you. Even when Angel did his mojo and desouled me … even in the dungeon, it wasn’t like that. I turned it loose … there was nothing between it and the rest of the world; between it and our family. Not one bloody thing to stop it.”
 
“Yes there was, Spike. There was you – there was William’s heart. Don’t you know yet how strong your heart is? How true your love is? I trust you with my life; I trust you with the lives of our children; you need to trust yourself. Never doubt what’s inside you, Spike,” Buffy assured him.
 
“Buffy, pet … you don’t know what’s inside me,” Spike argued softly.

 

“I do. I know. I’ve been inside you, Spike … inside your mind, your memories – I’ve seen the blackness of the demon, but I’ve seen the light of your soul and the goodness of your heart too. It outshines the darkness like the sun outshines the moon … well, if it was, you know, a really dark, moonless night ... with thick, black clouds and all the electricity in the world was on the fritz and no one had any candles ... or cell phones.”
 
Spike shook his head slightly but gave her a small smile. How could she believe in him so fully? Was she a fool or a sage to think that he could let the demon out like he had, use it for his own needs, and then just capture it and put it back in its place like it was a parakeet that had gotten free of its cage? The week he’d been asleep he had fought it, it seemed, the whole time in one manner or another, but never felt like he had it under any semblance of control until she had challenged him head on.
 
What would’ve happened if she had done that earlier, before he’d battled it for so long? Would he have been able to stop the bloodshed? Would just her belief in him have been enough to restrain the monster? He honestly didn’t know; but if anyone could’ve done it, it would’ve been Buffy. Her belief in him made him believe … made him want to try harder, be stronger, be better – for her, for their family. It was why he fought; it was why he won. She was the only one that could save him from himself; it’s how it had always been and how it would always be, he reckoned.
 

“And anyway, this is my fairy tale, so I get to say how it goes,” Buffy asserted after a few moments as she unfolded her legs and climbed on top of his hips.
 
“Do ya now? And just when does Prince Charmin’ come bursting in t’ save the day?” Spike asked with a smirk, eyeing the door as he settled his hands on her thighs.
 
“This is a modern fairy tale, silly! Girls get to be heroes now, too, ya know. Princess Charming wakes her Sleeping Beauty with a tender kiss,” Buffy continued, leaning down and demonstrating for Spike. “And they ride off into the sunset in a big blue minivan full of kids and cats and live happily ever after… The End.”

 

“Uhhhh … ya think we could add some details in there between the kiss and the sunset, pet?” Spike asked, curling his tongue over his teeth and pulling her chest down harder against his.
 
“Hmmmm…” Buffy rolled her eyes up as she pretended to think about it. “Maybe we could fit in a little something between there. What did you have in mind? Parcheesi?” she teased, looking back down at him.

 

“Not hardly…” he murmured as he captured her mouth with his and growled against her soft lips.
 
Buffy sighed in pleasure as she wrapped her arms around him. He was back. Everything would be fine now … well, at least until the next apocalyptic symphony began to tune up. But they’d dance that dance when they got to it … right now they had a completely different type of dance in mind.
 
**~**
 
Later that morning … Saturday, January 8th, 2011:
 
Later that morning, Buffy, carrying MacKenzie, and Spike came into the kitchen to find Annie and Bess presiding over breakfast for Dani, Billy, and JJ. They had decided to mix every kind of cereal in the house into a huge punchbowl and cover it with almond milk. Rather than dirty individual bowls (which would then require washing!), they each had a large serving spoon and were all eating out of the one community 'pot' as it sat in the center of the kitchen table.

 

Dani was complaining that she didn’t like Lucky Stars or Fruit Loops really … and was trying to avoid them while capturing as many Sugar Smacks as she could on her spoon; Annie, of course, was trying to get mostly Cocoa Puffs and Billy preferred the Life. Only JJ and Bess were actually happily consuming the mishmash of flavors without prejudice and making observations about which cereals went well, or not so well, with others.

 

The counter behind them was covered with open cereal boxes and empty containers of the almond milk and more than a little of the cereal and milk was splattered across the kitchen table. Each spoonful they took dripped oddly colored milk and cereal as they pulled their overflowing spoons away from the bowl on the way to their mouths. Angelpie was helping with that, though, as she walked around the tabletop lapping up the spilt milk and sampling the soggy cereal; she liked the Rice Krispies best. Miss Kitty Fantastico, of course, being the matriarch, sat in the corner and watched the spectacle with an air of annoyance … this simply wasn’t done; it wasn’t proper. Someone, she would’ve warned them if she could speak, was going to get into trouble.
 
Buffy stopped in the doorway as her mouth hung open in dismay; it looked like a cereal truck had exploded in the kitchen and firemen had hosed it all down with milk ... multi-colored milk.
 
While the Road Runner ‘beep-beeped’ from the TV that was blaring in the great room, and Wile E. Coyote accordioned under a huge boulder meant for the speed demon, the children carried on, not even noticing Buffy standing in the doorway or Spike, who had nearly walked into her back when she stopped abruptly.

 

Buffy turned her head to look at him as he stood behind her and slightly to the side. “So … I’m guessing Dru must be lurking around here somewhere because I suddenly have a really strong urge for bloodshed. Did you want to kill them, or shall I?”
 
Spike snorted a soft laugh and shook his head. “It’s that bloody cat, I’m tellin’ ya … nothing good ever comes of anything with a name a' ‘Angel’… A bad influence, it is.”
 
The sound of his voice – unheard in the house for very nearly a week, seemed to split the air like a wrecking ball smashing through the wall and all the children stopped, their spoons suspended in mid-air, their mouths hanging open ready to take a bite, and looked at the doorway. Screams of ‘Papa!’, ‘Dad!’, and ‘Uncle Spike!’ rang out as the utensils clattered to the tabletop, splashing more colorful milk and cereal onto the Formica and the surrounding floor.
 
Buffy hugged the baby closer to her chest and stepped aside just in time to avoid being trampled as they all rushed him, tackling him high and low and knocking him backwards onto the floor.
 
“Hey! Watch it,” she called in warning. “I just got him out of that damn coma! Be careful! I sooo don’t want to hang out with Dru anymore…”

 

Spike laughed as the kids hugged him tightly and fired off questions about how he was feeling and if he was okay and told him they missed him and loved him and please don’t do that again… Spike gathered them all up and dropped quick kisses on the tops of their heads as he hugged them to him and told them he was alright and he promised not to do that again.
 
It felt … surreal, to have them here, in his arms, laughing and wriggling and being so … alive. Their frozen, horrified expressions flashed in his mind; their broken and bloodied bodies had been morbidly posed right in this very spot in his nightmares. Now that terrible memory of their lifeless stares was replaced with sparkling eyes and giddy smiles; their silent accusations were replaced with happy laughter; and their cold, lifeless bodies were replaced with animated glee and thudding heartbeats.
 
Spike felt like he could just float all the way to the moon in the joy that surrounded him. It lifted his heart and strengthened his soul and the demon never surfaced … never even ventured a peek at the small, warm bodies that swamped him. Buffy had been right; William was stronger than the demon. His poet’s heart swelled with delight and love for the woman that reached her small, soft hand into the abyss and pulled him back from where he’d fallen … so far down he didn’t think anyone could reach him. But she could. She always could.

**~**

{{Click here to hear I’m Falling Down (Moonshot) (a live version) by James Marsters on YouTube  }}
 
Down
I’m falling down
Want you to catch me
But you’re not here

‘Round
You come around
Know you can save me
With the touch of your soft hand

You
It’s always been you
Even before I met you
I was in love with you

I
I can’t see why
I shouldn’t spend all of my time
By your side

I
I know I hurt you
Even desert you
I’m a fool

I
I heard you cryin’
Feelin’ like dyin’
You deserve
You deserve better than me

In
I let you in
But now I’m so scared
I wanna run away

Do
What do we do
I’m more than twice your age
But I’m in love with you
When we are together
I’m light as a feather
It’s so good

You
You are in school again
Breaking the rules again
Me, I’m on…
I’m on the moon
I’m on the moon
Yeah, yeah
End Notes:
TBC ... So, who actually saved Spike? Xander or Buffy or William? We may never know for sure.

Ok, guys, It's almost over! There's only one more chapter left in this story ... It's been a long ride ... if you liked it, which I'm hoping you did or you wouldn't still be reading, I'd love to hear from you!! Your words keep my muse's bloodlust under control. "Under control??" you may ask... "THAT was under control?" Well, hey, everyone's still alive, aren't they? ... Well, except the Council berks.
I Need a Hero by Passion4Spike
Author's Notes:
The reality of Spike having the Gem back and them being out from under the crushing stress of debt finally sinks in.
**
Music Referenced:
Bonnie Tyler – I Need a Hero  http://youtu.be/OBwS66EBUcY
 **
ScreenCaps courtesy of ScreenCap Paradise: http://www.screencap-paradise.com/?cat=3
**
Thanks to 'epd4' for betaing this chapter. Any mistakes are mine because I can't stop fiddling ...
(Next morning) Sunday, January 8th, 2011, 7am:

The previous day, Spike and Buffy had spent the whole day with the kids – most of it outside in the sun. It had been over eight months since Spike had stepped out into the sunshine and he relished the warmth of it on his skin and being able to spend such a magical day with his family, especially after the horror of his hallucination. They all played a game of keep-away with Dani’s soccer ball in the field at the park down the street from the mansion. When they tired of that, they moved to the swing set, the monkey bars, and the ever popular, dizzying fun of the child-powered Merry Go Round.

 

Spike’s only regret was Bess not being able to join them. Now that she was back, it seemed sickly ironic that she’d given up the Gem for him and was, therefore, relegated to the mansion in the daytime. Not that they left her alone all day; certainly not! There were video games in the bat cave and Jedi-Scooby fights and dodge-ball in the training room, but it still tugged at his guilt-strings for her to now be the one left in the dark. This was something that he needed to rectify – soon.
 
Despite that time in the sun yesterday afternoon, what Spike really cherished were the brief moments of twilight just as the sun was rising. Perhaps because it had for so long been that slow lightening of the eastern sky which tingled a warning down his spine, signaling the end of the ‘day’ for him as a vampire, that drew him to the sunrise. Without the Gem, it was an ending; with it, it was a beginning.

 

Just as he’d done the first time he had the Gem, Spike stood on the sidewalk in front of the mansion and waited for the golden rays of the sun to touch him as the sky morphed from black, to shades of pink and orange and red then to blue. Glittering tendrils of light and warmth reached through the gnarled, winter-bare tree branches on the horizon and snaked their way towards him as he watched, enraptured. Such a simple thing – a sunrise; but for him it was magical.
 
Buffy stepped up behind him bundled up in her fluffiest, warmest robe and wrapped her arms around his waist, resting her head against his shoulder blade. She knew how special this was for him; she honestly couldn’t imagine not feeling the sun on her skin for months or years … decades. Those few days in the dungeon were more than enough to make her realize how precious the simple pleasure of it was.
 
Spiked laid his arms over hers where they clasped around his waist as he savored the warmth of her against his back and watched the delicate fingers of a new day detour from their westerly path down the sidewalk. The sunlight wrapped around his denim-clad legs like a ghostly vine and climbed slowly higher, finally bathing his bare chest and arms with a feathery caress, lighter than the wind, warming him from the outside, just as her love warmed him from within.
 
They stood there for a long while, neither speaking, simply being, as they greeted the new day together; it was a very déjà vu moment … they’d done this before, but not for a long while.
 
Finally, as if reading his mind, Buffy spoke. “We’ll find another Gem for her,” she assured him, dropping a kiss the ivory skin of his back. The tan and freckles he’d acquired during his years with the Gem were gone; burnt away by the Pele demon and replaced with new skin – as soft and creamy white as a newborn baby’s.

 

Spike nodded. Now that he didn’t have to spend every waking moment working his ass off at that dive down by the docks, perhaps he could do a little investigative work himself; kick in a few doors, ask some questions, knock some heads together, wring some scrawny demon necks until they squealed – someone, somewhere had to know something. Heck, he could even afford to pay for information now – of course, that wouldn’t be nearly as much fun. He dismissed that idea immediately – that was something Angel would do … poofter.
 
“Are you happy?” Spike asked Buffy, turning in her embrace to face his wife.

 

Buffy smiled softly and looked up into his blue eyes, which reflected the lightening sky above them. “Our kids are all home, safe and sound – sleeping peacefully in their rooms. I have my favorite yummy sushi pajamas, my soft, fluffy blue robe, and my big, bad handsome man wrapped up in my arms … what do you think?”
 
Spike snorted a laugh and leaned down to kiss her gently. He’d fought, nearly died, to be her hero – to get them out of that crushing debt that threatened to tear them apart like no demon ever could, but when asked if she was happy, she didn’t mention the fortune that was sitting in their bedroom closet … not a breath or a hint of it. This was his wife – such a confounding mix of woman and child; of strength and vulnerability; of side-splitting laughter and quick-fire temper; of extraordinary intelligence and charming naivety. She could just as easily stagger him with her kisses as with her fists … and, to be honest, he loved that. She was his perfect match, this Slayer; all he could ever ask for and more.
 
He knew that his effort and sacrifice hadn’t gone unnoticed or unappreciated, but he also knew that if that money hadn’t been sitting in the closet, her answer to that question would’ve been exactly the same. She would love him, just the same; money didn’t buy her love, it never had, and her love meant the world to him.
 
**~**
 
(next day), Monday, January 9th, 2011, 2pm:
 
Up until today, the reality of all that money sitting in their closet had not entirely sunk in yet. Today it began to take form, substance … today it really started to become real. He had done it. They were free.
 
Spike drove down to The Fish Bowl and gave his notice … effective immediately. He didn’t actually tell Tiburon to ‘sod off’ … the loan shark’s brother had given him a job when he was desperate and hadn’t treated him badly, despite Spike’s frustration with the pay and clientele there.
 
He left on friendly terms, the idea in the back of his mind that he may want to stop in now and then; especially at the beginning of the month when new sailors, flush with their previous month’s wages, and cocky with alcohol, came into port. They made such easy pickings it was almost a crime to take their money, but that didn’t bother Spike’s conscience one little bit. No matter how much money Spike had in the bank, it was still just plain fun to trounce those snot-nosed sailors who thought they’d hoodwink the ‘townies’ out of their hard-earned dollars. Spike could call it a hobby. Everyone needed a hobby.
 
After The Fish Bowl, Spike stopped at the fight club and thanked Mr. Andreev for giving him a chance.
 
“Normally, the champion gets to revel in their victory a bit more … get cheered and rained on by worthless betting tickets, sometimes get a few diamond earrings, panties, or room keys tossed at ‘em. All that fire and smoke kinda cleared the arena pretty fast, sorry about that Spike,” Mr. Andreev offered in apology and congratulations combined.
 
Spike snorted a sarcastic laugh. “I reckon if I’da gotten knickers and room keys tossed at me, you’d be sweeping my sorry ass up off the floor, ‘cos the Slayer would’a done what that Pele couldn’t … dusted me good and proper.”

 

Ever the businessman, Mr. Andreev had a proposal, and Spike’s mention of the Slayer opened the door nicely. “Well … maybe we can have a rematch – the Slayer versus the 2010 No Holds Barred Demon Champion. I’ll bet that’d draw a crowd, especially if she wore a little thong and maybe you could go with Speedos …” the promoter started as dollar signs danced in his eyes.
 
Spike held up his hands and stopped him. “Thanks for the offer, I think we’re outta the business.”
 
“Oh! It wouldn’t have to be to the death!” Mr. Andreev clarified quickly.
 
Spike laughed and shook his head. “Been informed my fightin’ … and stripping, days are over. You know how it is … if the little woman ain’t happy…”
 
“…no one’s happy,” the promoter finished, nodding and rolling his eyes. “Well, if you ever change your mind, you know where I am.”
 
Spike thanked him again and took his leave, heading next to Raj’s apartment building where he collected the clean-up boy and brought him back to the mansion. Raj rambled happily during the whole ride, telling Spike about the mess the ‘Kiwi’ had made in the pit with that other demon’s blood and how long it took them to get that cleaned up; even with the baking soda new fires kept igniting. They ended up having to scrape the blood up off the floor with metal shovels, put it into metal buckets and carry them out to the metal dumpster … then the stuff in the dumpster caught on fire and a fire truck came to put it out.
 
“Big mess you make, Kiwi Spike!” Raj informed him with a wide smile. How that bloody kid could smile so much was beyond Spike … but he didn’t hold it against the boy. Spike smiled back at him – it wasn’t an accusation, it was a compliment.
 
“It’s a talent o’ mine,” Spike offered amiably.
 
Inside the mansion, Buffy greeted the clean-up boy warmly, giving him a hug and thanking him for his help rescuing Spike from the fire.
 
“Pffft! I didn’t need any bloody rescue,” Spike defended. “Miss Leap-Before-You-Bloody-Look – there’s the one needed rescuin’,” Spike defended, pointing at Buffy.
 
“You lie! Raj save Kiwi Spike!” Raj piped up, still smiling widely. “Raj A-number-one!” he announced proudly. “No Raj, Kiwi Spike down creek without river!”
 
Spike rolled his eyes. “Up the creek, without a paddle,” he corrected.
 
“I reckon the Slayer may have somethin’ to say about how a-number-bloody-one you are, Mowgli. I can tell you from experience, she don’t take kindly to being bonked on the noggin,” Spike informed the boy, who reminded him of Rudyard Kipling’s character in The Jungle Book.


 
Buffy rolled her eyes. It was true, if he hadn’t knocked her into the wall trying to cover her with the blanket and smother the flames, she could’ve probably walked out of there on her own, but the boy did what he thought he had to. She didn’t hold it against him; Spike was just taking the piss out of him. Raj seemed to know it – there was a strange bantering friendship between the two that Buffy couldn’t quite figure out given how much they seemed to be complete opposites, but it was there, nonetheless.
 
“Down creek …” Raj pointed out with a shrug.
 
“UP! … Up the soddin’ creek!” Spike corrected again, but Raj just laughed. Spike sometimes wondered if the boy did that just to agitate Spike … he also wondered if Raj was as ignorant of the English language as he acted.


 
“You know, you could be a little more appreciative of the rescue, Spike. Even I could see you were about to burst into flames and get in touch with your inner dust bunny,” Buffy chastised him.
 
“Once and for bloody all, I didn’t need any rescuing! I had everything under control,” Spike asserted.
 
“Could’ve fooled me,” a new voice entered the conversation – Faith sauntered down the stairs.
 
Raj smiled proudly, looking up at her. “They down creek! We save!”
 
“UP! Up the soddin’ creek!” Spike exclaimed and Raj laughed out loud, again making Spike wonder if the kid was just taking the piss out of him … it was piss taking all around, apparently.
 
“Ya know, Mr. Andreev offered us a gig … you and me, Slayer,” Spike announced. “But now I’m thinkin’ it would be better for the two a’ you to take him up on his offer,” he continued, wagging a finger between Buffy and Faith as the dark Slayer joined them near the research table.
 
Buffy cocked a brow and folded her arms over her chest. “This I gotta hear…”
 
Spike shrugged. “Nothin’ dangerous … kind of an exhibition bout.”
 
“Does it involve Jell-O?” Faith wondered with a smirk.
 
“Naa … nothing like that …” Spike assured her dismissively. “Just … thongs … pasties maybe…”
 
Buffy rolled her eyes but Faith’s eyes went wide with possibilities as grin spread across her face. “How much does it pay and will there be any kissing involved?”
 
“Uhhh … not sure, luv … kissing could be … yeah … well, I reckon there could be,” Spike stammered as something completely unrelated to dollar signs danced in his eyes.

 

“B’s a great kisser … if there’s kissage to be had, I’m in!” Faith enthused with a wicked grin, drawing another eye-roll from Buffy.
 
“Buffy … kiss …” Spike stammered again, looking between the two. “Something you want t’ tell me, Slayer?” he asked, looking at Buffy.
 
“It was nothing, just a little peck on the lips,” Buffy offered nonchalantly. “You were too busy trying to get killed or you could’ve seen it.”
 
“Don’t suppose … I mean …” Spike stuttered, feeling a bit warm all of the sudden … despite the cool air in the room and his ambient body temperature.
 
“Nope – it was a onetime only performance,” Buffy informed him. “And, anyway, we have children in the room,” she pointed out, tilting her head towards Raj, whom Spike had completely forgotten about.
 
“Right, then … maybe after the children …”
 
“No, Spike … ya snooze, ya lose,” Buffy shut him down.
 
“Bloody hell …” Spike moaned, rubbing his eyes to try and get the visions of kissing Slayers in thongs and pasties out of his mind.
 
“Don’t give up,” Faith advised, patting Spike on the shoulder. “I’ll keep working on her – try to make sure you’re around if she ever plants a big sloppy one on me again.”

 

Spike looked at her hopefully and Faith gave him a little wink.
 
Spike shook his head to clear it and try to remember what it was he was supposed to be doing. There was some reason the boy was here – now, what the bloody hell was it? At the moment, Spike was very much down the creek without a river.
 
“Raj,” Buffy began, pulling Spike from his attempts to remember what he was supposed to be doing. “Spike and I would like to thank you for all your help … not just in the last fight, but before that.”
 
Oh right! That was it!
 
“Gotcha a little token,” Spike picked up the conversation as his train of thought veered off the naughty sidetrack it had ventured onto and back onto the main rail.
 
Raj smiled wider … if that was possible. He knew Kiwi Spike wouldn’t forget his $50; it had really been a bonanza for him and his family every week.
 
Spike pulled out a plastic wrapped bundle of hundred dollar bills from a drawer in the credenza behind the research table and handed it to the boy.
 
Raj started to reach for it, but pulled back when it wasn’t the $50 he was expecting. Raj shook his head and looked up at Spike, then over to Buffy with confusion. The boy looked back at Spike. “Big money, Kiwi Spike … you … maybe bonk noggin?” Raj asked, using Spike’s term and banging his knuckles on the top of his head to demonstrate.
 
Spike laughed as he reached down and grabbed Raj’s hand and planted the stack of bills firmly in his palm. “No, m’ noggin’s fine,” he assured the boy. “Ya saved me – more than once. This is for you.”
 
Raj looked at the plastic-wrapped bundle with wide eyes then met Spike’s eyes with his – looking for the joke in them … the teasing crinkle at their corners, a smirk on his lips – he saw none of those things in the vamp’s features. Spike raised his brows and nodded, silently assuring the boy as if to say, I’m serious – it’s for you.

 

Raj looked at Buffy and she gave him the same look, only with a smile … not a teasing smile, not a smirk, a genuinely happy smile, on her face.
 
“Too much, Kiwi Spike,” Raj tried again to object, his expression serious.
 
“Rot! I owe you … you earned it, Mowgli. Don’t insult me now! Don’t like to be insulted, ya know… take it right personal, I do,” Spike warned him.
 
Slowly, Raj’s patented smile returned to his face and seemed to spread almost literally through his whole being. Spike had seen Buffy glow before, but this was the first time he’d seen a boy glow, but that was the only way he could describe it. Raj was glowing from the inside out with absolute joy. Ten thousand dollars was a fortune to him – but it wasn’t a gift, it wasn’t charity. Spike remembered too well his silent promise when the boy had tried to tell him he’d won but Spike hadn’t listened and torn up his betting ticket; that could’ve easily cost him $6,000 right there. No, Raj had earned this money – it wasn’t charity. The underdog had finally gotten his due.
 
**~**
 
By the time the kids rambled into the mansion after school, Raj had the money secured in a fanny-pack that Buffy gave him and it was draped over his chest and around one shoulder … ‘cos he was so skinny that it wouldn’t tighten enough and it kept sliding off his hips. There were introductions all around and Annie invited him to come down to the bat cave and play video games with them, which he happily accepted after getting a nod of approval from Spike.
 
When Buffy and Spike ventured down there a while later, they found the group playing with the Band Hero game. Billy was on lead guitar, JJ on bass, Dani on drums, and Annie on vocals while Raj danced about rather spastically to ‘We Got the Beat’ … originally by the Go Gos, but being ‘performed’ rather well by the Bat Cave Band.
 
Buffy and Spike sat on the stairs and watched the kids ‘play’ their ‘instruments’. They all had their own style. Dani banged enthusiastically on the drum set – what could be more fun than being able to hit things with sticks and not get in trouble for it? Billy gave his best Keith Richards impersonation on the guitar, putting plenty of body language into it. JJ was more subdued on the bass guitar, putting on a more ‘laid back’ air to his performance, as most bass players do (it actually reminded Buffy a bit of Oz’s style). Annie was doing her best Go Gos imitation, dancing and singing at the same time – much less spastically than Raj, thank goodness.
 
When the song ended, their small audience clapped and the kids quickly checked their scores on the game, all talking at once. Neither Spike nor Buffy had gotten a chance to actually play the game, so they were both lost when it came to what the kids were talking about … but that didn’t really matter. Just watching them talking earnestly and animatedly was fine – even if they didn’t understand what exactly the discussion was about.
 
Spike thought he should maybe get a couple more instruments to add onto the game – maybe rhythm guitar or another lead guitar, in case Bess wanted to play, too. And for a just a second worry about where they’d get the money for that gripped him and his shoulders began to sag, but then just as the dawn had washed him in the warmth of its embrace yesterday morning, a peaceful realization spread over him – that worry was in the past. He smiled to himself and wrapped an arm around Buffy, pulling her closer – now they could afford it; a wonderful feeling of joy blossomed within him with that revelation.
 
**~**

 (Two days later) Thursday, January 13th, 2011, 7pm:


Even as Xander’s jaw clenched in anger, daggers shooting from his eyes towards Buffy, she could see Anya’s fingers itching to take the proffered gift from where it sat between them on the research table. They’d just gotten back from Hawai’i and had come by to pick up JJ when Buffy ambushed him with this.

 

“Xander … this isn’t some kind of charity,” Buffy explained again, her eyes begging him to understand. “Think of me as a woodchuck …”
 
Even Spike had to look at her funny with that as he sat next to her, across the table from Anya; Buffy sat across from Xander. But it had the desired effect – it made Xander’s expression morph from anger to confusion and made him say something other than ‘no’.
 
Buffy knew this wouldn’t be easy – but Spike winning that money was her second chance; she just had to get Xander to see that. In the pre-wish world, they’d given Xander and Anya her mom’s house mortgage-free; in this world, without William’s money, they couldn’t do that. She now had the opportunity to ‘fix’ that … one more little thing that Cecily had taken from her, from them, could be set right. Xander, of course, didn’t see it that way – like Spike, he saw it as an affront to his ability to support his family. Buffy needed to change his mind.

 

“Ok, I give … what the hell is that supposed to mean?” Xander asked, completely befuddled by her strange reference.
 
“You know,” Buffy began with a shrug and a pout. “It’s like ‘how much wood would a woodchuck chuck if a woodchuck could chuck wood?’ only … it’s what we would’ve done, if we could’ve done, if Cecily hadn't done what she'd done. It’s what we did before the wacked out crazy woman stuck her nose in and screwed everything up. It’s a re-do. It’s what the woodchuck would do, if he could chuck wood.”
 
Of course, after finding Bess and bringing her into their family, Buffy wasn’t sure that she would change any of what Cecily had done – despite the literal hell that they’d been put through because of her vengeance wish. If not for Cecily, they may have never had MacKenzie, either and the PTB would’ve had to rewrite their prophecies again. Or maybe they had to rewrite them to account for the child brought forth from the ashes of Buffy’s life during that horrible time. She hoped so – if they were busy rewriting prophecies, they might have less time to fuck with her and Spike and their family and friends.
 
Xander shook his head, trying to let her logic rattle around in there until it could find a spot that could comprehend it … like one of those unbelievably frustrating children’s games where you have to get the marble-BBs in the little holes by tilting the whole thing one way or another.

 

Xander gave up trying to get Buffy’s marble logic into any holes in his brain; it wasn’t fitting and the marbles already in there were starting to loosen.
 
“Buffy, I'm not sure I get what you’re saying ... but maybe. Here's the thing, everything's better now. With the Council here I’ve got lots of work building stuff for them and … repairing stuff I built ‘cos those girls don’t know their own strength. We’re doing better … things are better.”

 

“Xander,” Anya intervened, “I don’t think it’s wise to turn down the Slayer and her vampire husband. I mean, if it would make them feel better, who are we to deny them? You know how karma works, it could start a cataclysmic chain of events and bring on the end of the world for all we know. We should just take the money and let the good karma stay here, with them,” Anya argued, eyeing the stack of money on the table longingly.
 
“Ahn… not helping,” Xander groaned before turning back to Buffy. “I’m sorry – I understand you’re trying to fix things you think are broken, but we’re not broken. Tell her Spike.”
 
“Harris looks alright t’ me, pet…” Spike began, but stopped abruptly when Buffy shot him dusty a look. He cleared his throat and gave Xander a sympathetic glance. “What I mean is … Slayer says this is how it was supposed t’ be and … well … demon-bird’s got a point with the karma bit, I reckon.”

 

Spike wasn’t particularly opposed to giving the money to Anya and Xander, especially since Buffy was so adamant that that was how it would’ve been if Cecily hadn’t mucked things up. On the other hand … he nearly dusted getting that money and he didn’t do it for the Harris clan … he did it for Buffy and the bits. Which brought him back to the first hand that said, if she wanted to give some of it to them and that would make her happy … then, that’s what he’d done it for. He was actually starting to get a headache going from hand to hand … it was making him dizzy, too.
 
Xander sighed. He understood, of course, that Spike was caught between a Slayer and a hard place, but that wasn’t helping his cause any.
 
Xander tried again. “Buffy, I’m not the same man that sat here last year downing Jack and Cokes and listening to you tell about how I killed myself with drugs and alcohol in that other world. I’m also not the boy that followed you around like a lost puppy all through high school. I don’t know how many worlds there are, or how many Xanders there are, but the one in this world is a grown man, with a smart, absolutely amazing and beautiful wife and a son who makes me proud and, frankly, a little astonished that I actually had something to do with making him.
 
“I don’t have any superpowers … I’m not a witch or a demon or a Slayer. I’m just a guy who’s willing to help all you superheroes save the world. I’ll fetch the donuts and the weapons; I’ll repair your doors and build training rooms and dorm rooms; I’ll go to the ends of the earth to protect any of the Scooby-pups if that’s what you need me to do to help you save the world.”
 
“Especially if the end of the earth is near Hawai’i …” Anya interjected quickly. “Feel free to send us, all expenses paid, to any tropical paradise anytime, we don’t mind the sacrifice …”
 
Xander rolled his eyes, but had to smile slightly. That was his Anya. “But between all that,” he continued, “… in the hours that I’m not your roadie, I’m a husband and a father, and this? This I can do. This is my purpose. So, let me have that – it’s my calling.”
 
“Xander, I’m not trying to…” Buffy began, but stopped when Spike laid a hand on her arm. She looked over at him and he shook his head slightly. Buffy sighed and nodded then turned back to Xander and Anya.
 
“I get it … I do,” Buffy agreed finally, giving him a soft smile. “And, as far as I’m concerned, you do have superpowers. You have no idea how many times you’ve saved me – in so many ways. I just … I love you guys and want everything to be of the good.”
 
“I know, Buff … things are of the good,” Xander assured her as he stood up from the table and came around to give her a hug. “We love you too.”

  

**~**
  
(Later that night) Thursday, January 13th, 2011, 10pm:

Buffy hummed to herself as she got her shower. Bess and Faith and Angelpie were out patrolling, the rest of the kids were asleep and Spike was home … in the bedroom waiting for her.
 
“He’s home,” she murmured to herself wistfully, a school-girl grin plastered on her face. She let the warm water rain down on her, washing the crème rinse from her hair and covering her body with a warm river of vanilla and honey scented softness. Buffy felt like the burden of Atlas, the burden of the world, had been lifted from her, from their shoulders – finally. It wasn’t just that she knew that soon, as soon as Anya could safely ‘launder’ the cash for them, they would have all their debts paid off and money in the bank, it was also the worry that sat heavy in her heart and gut every time Spike headed down to the docks and The Fish Bowl. The docks were bad enough, but the area around the lowlife demon and sailor bar was the worst of the worst, it really scraped the bottom of the bottom of the barrel. She just knew one day something unimaginable would happen to him. She knew he’d grown tired of her telling him to ‘be careful’, but she felt like she couldn’t say it often enough.
 
But now, all that was over. Now, not only did he not have to go down there night after night, he had the Gem back, as well. They still needed to find a way to replicate it or find out for sure if another existed so that Bess could have one too – but Buffy could live with that loose end for now. They’d work on it – she had faith that Willow could figure something out or maybe even Annie. Buffy also knew that half a million dollars, less what Spike had given Raj and what he offered Giles as commission for the launderette fee, wasn’t a huge fortune as fortunes go, especially after they paid off their debt and gave Uncle Sam his due, but it certainly gave them plenty of breathing room.  It felt good to be able to breathe again. She’d rescheduled her appointment with the patent lawyer for early next week – after that perhaps her new plan to conquer the world with Scrunchies could start to take shape. There was no telling where that might lead.
 
Buffy couldn’t stop from smiling as she dried her hair and body with the towel and continued humming softly to herself. Wow – what a year they’d had. She was hopeful the next year would be boring and calm. Boring and calm would be a nice change of pace for them. Maybe even toss in a smattering of monotony and a smidge of dullness, just for kicks.
 
Buffy blew her hair dry and slipped on a low-cut, short, black negligee that she was pretty sure Spike would like better than a burlap sack and headed down the hall to their room.

  

As she opened the door, she was bathed in the soft glow of candlelight and the aroma of sandalwood and vanilla drifted up to meet her. She expected Spike to be lounging invitingly on the bed, perhaps striking a sexy pose wearing one of his patented ‘I’m Too Sexy For My Shirt’ smirks and nothing else. What she found instead was him sitting cross-legged on the bed, jeans still on, counting his money or, more accurately, their money.
 
He didn’t even look up when she entered so intent was he on his task. He’d taken all the money out of their neat little plastic packages and had it stacked around him like he was the king and the little green piles of paper were his loyal subjects. All Buffy could think of was an old nursery rhyme as she leaned back against the closed door and watched him …
 
The king was in the counting house,
Counting out his money;
The queen was in the parlor,
Eating bread and honey


 

When she laughed, he finally looked up from his task. His eyes seemed to sparkle in the candlelight as he picked one of the stacks up and fanned the bills under his nose. Nothing smelled like money …

“Sorry, pet … lost track a’ time,” Spike began as he started picking up the money and putting it on the dresser. “Just … don’t reckon I’ll ever see this much cash in one place again …”

“So you felt the need to fondle all of it?” Buffy teased. “Do you two need a minute? I mean … I could go read a book or watch that earthworm documentary again.”



Spike smirked as he cleared the last stack off the bed and stalked slowly over to where she was standing. “No, we’re good,” he assured her as he leaned in and brushed a gentle kiss on her lips.



“You smell like heaven, pet,” he murmured as he kissed and nibbled down up her jaw to her ear raising tingling chill bumps on her skin.

“Do I smell as good as your cocaine laden money?” Buffy wondered, still teasing him.

“Well … you do have a way of making me high, just being near ya,” Spike admitted as he pulled back to look into the depths of her green eyes which danced with mischief. “Although, come to think of it, might be the merry bushels of cash doin’ that.”

Buffy laughed and slapped his chest lightly. “I knew it – success has gone to your head and you’ve forgotten all the little people who knew you when you were just one of the common folk.”

Spike smiled and caressed her face with his eyes, taking in the wonder of her, from the teasing smile on her lips to the laughter he saw in her eyes. He reached up and took her face in his hands, lightly caressing her cheeks with the pad of his thumbs as he savored the magic of her.

“I know it’s not what’s important, Buffy. I know it was bloody foolish o’ me to risk everything for it … risk leaving you and the bits alone, risk breakin’ my promise to you – to them. That money couldn’t keep you warm on a cold night, couldn’t wrap around you and hold you close, give you a partner that you can count on, no matter what, it can’t touch your heart or pour warm honeyed happiness over your soul…” Spike murmured to her softly, his eyes locked onto hers, delving into their depths, looking for her forgiveness for taking that unbelievably crazy chance of fighting a fire demon for money.

Buffy’s expression turned serious as she kept her eyes locked with his, she felt a thin sheen of tears well against her bottom lids and she blinked them back. What he’d done, risking his life, not for the mission – not to save the world, not to save an innocent, not to stop evil, but for personal gain, for nothing more than money, might’ve been the most selfish and irresponsible thing he’d ever done.

Buffy finally looked over to where the pretty green paper sat in neat stacks on the dresser, then looked back at him, all laughter gone from her eyes, her lips now a grim line. She nodded slowly and pulled away from him, walking over to the dresser and running a finger idly over the top of each stack of bills. Spike turned and watched her, afraid that he’d ruined the evening, wondering if she’d really forgiven him for taking that risk for something so … pedestrian; something that would be so clearly immaterial if he had perished in the pursuit of it.



“All that’s true, Spike,” Buffy agreed at last, picking up as much of the cash as she could hold in her hands and turning back to face him.

“You went and risked your life for this,” she asserted, her tone accusatory, as she moved back to where he was standing near the foot of the bed. “You very nearly left me a widow, alone to raise our children without you, alone to face the prophecies and administer the Spanish Inquisition to their unsuspecting dates; alone to try and give Billy ‘the talk’ … which, I’m pretty sure would not have included advice on how to practice holding back, because – wow! Awkward!”

Spike lowered his eyes and studied the carpet as she blasted him with the truth that he already knew. He’d been foolish and selfish to do that. He wanted to be her hero – their hero, not by saving the world, but by killing another demon for money; risking his life for it. He should’ve known that wasn’t what made a man a hero.



“So, I guess there’s only one right thing to do with your blood money,” Buffy continued, her voice level and serious.

Spike had no idea what that one thing would be … give it to the Council? To the ASPCA? Greenpeace? Help save the whales and the mangy tabbies of the world? Wasn’t giving money to worthy causes one of the tried and true ways to assuage guilt and cleanse your soul? He kept his eyes glued to the floor, head hung in shame, his hands rested on his hips as he awaited her verdict.

“And the right thing would be to test the theory,” Buffy stated flatly.

Spike finally looked up at her, brows furrowed in confusion. “What theory would that be, Slayer?”

Buffy shrugged blithely. “We now have a chance to prove, beyond a shadow of a doubt, whether money can or cannot buy happiness. I think we should start the experiments right away,” Buffy announced as she tossed the handfuls of money she was holding into the air and the bills rained down on them like a ticker-tape parade, covering the floor and the bed with a blanket of green.

Spike eyes widened in surprise as the cash fluttered down around them like leaves dropping from a money tree in the fall. An elated grin lit up her features and burned the guilt from his soul like a warm sunrise burned off the fog after a chilly night.

“What did you think? I was gonna give it away!? Geez, Spike – I may be a martyr … all Chosen and sacrificial, but I’m not stupid! You may not have noticed, but you’re not married to Mother Theresa!” Buffy laughed and grabbed another stack of money from the dresser and tossed it in the air. Then she grabbed another and another. When they were all gone off the dresser, she started gathering it up off the bed by the handfuls and recycling the large green confetti, covering them in a constant rain of glorious cash.



Spike laughed and pulled her into his arms and twirled around as he captured her lips with his – she never ceased to amaze and confound him.

Risking his life for money might’ve been selfish and irresponsible – but to Buffy, it wasn’t. It was heroic. Buffy had had a lot of help over the years from her friends, from Giles, even from Angel, fighting the good fight, the noble fight; keeping the world safe for Christmas and puppies. But to have someone to go out and risk their life for her – just her; not to fight evil, not to save the world, not to save a life – just for her and her family's happiness, well, that was something only Spike had done.

“My hero…” Buffy sighed as they collapsed onto the blanket of green that covered the bed, literally rolling in it, and Spike’s heart swelled. That’s all he’d ever wanted to be – her hero.

Maybe money couldn’t buy love; but making love on a bed of money? That was priceless.


  



 ~~  The End ~~
 
**~**

Fun Fact:

A study done in 1985 found that one third to one half of $50 and $100 US bills in circulation have trace amounts of cocaine on them.

http://www.snopes.com/business/money/cocaine.asp

**~**

A note from the author:

Well, that ends this 'chapter' in our Spuffy family's life. I know it was a bumpy ride, but I hope you enjoyed it all the same! What's in store for next 'season'?

First of all I'm planning a one chapter Buffy birthday (with no badness for once, just Spuffy goodness!). After that will come the badness again. Oh, you know my muse can't go very long without putting them back in the ringer!

Let's see, a preview: Spike conducting his own Spanish Inquisition with Troy, Spike learning more about feminine hygiene products than he ever wanted to know, Spike, Bess, and Angel being recruited by the FBI/Navy to fight a giant sea monster that's threatening a nuclear sub, Buffy and Annie inadvertently visiting the 'Gift-less' dimension where Glory's portal to hell did not get closed with Buffy's gift of death, Buffy's quest to become the Scrunchie queen of the world, the continuing search for a second Gem of Amarra ... there's more, but I don't want to give too much away!

On another note, I also have a stand-alone, one chapter short that is set post-NFA that I'll be posting. The last half of that short story will sound very familiar to you, because it is a cannibalization of the 'Fly With Me' (the one on the plane, if you don't remember the name - I know it was a long time ago) chapter in this story. I know some people don't like long fics, or they don't like baby fics, or marriage fics, so this is my way of reaching more readers (and, yes, hopefully draw them into my muse's web of angst with a lure of smut ... cue evil laugh track).

I hope you don't mind the cannibalization of the Spike/Giles banter and the smutty goodness. I did add a pretty lengthy back story to the front end of it, just because my muse refuses to do anything without trying to draw some misty eyes out of me.

Anyway, if you have me tagged as a favorite author, you'll get a notice when it posts (probably next week). Just keep in mind that it will be completely separate from the Unexpected Universe and I will probably add others like that as time goes on. Some will be like this, a use of what I've already written, but I have some other ideas that I'd like to try from canon (time permitting), so you never know what I may come up with.

For the foreseeable future, my main focus will remain the Unexpected Universe, but at some point my muse will kill everyone and let the PTB sort them out ... I mean, it's just inevitable. It's like a prophecy or something ... :O

Thanks so much to everyone who reads and especially those of you who take time to leave reviews! I do love hearing from you and your kind words help keep my muse's bloodlust under control. Even though he keeps thinking of horrible things to put them through, so far he's let them all live in the end. And, even if there are things you don't like, hey - let me know! My muse can be swayed ... sometimes ... with, I don't know ... cash. heehee! Just kidding. Mostly the only thing that sways him is Barry Manilow, Barney, and New Kids on the Block played over and over and over again.

Being called 'evil', by the way, is like chocolate for his soul.

{hugs}

-Passion4Spike



**~**

{{Click here to hear Bonnie Tyler – I Need a Hero on YouTube  }}


Where have all the good men gone
and where are all the gods?
Where's the streetwise Hercules to fight the rising odds?
Isn't there a white knight upon a fiery steed?
Late at night I toss
and I turn
and I dream of what I need.

I need a hero.
I'm holding out for a hero 'til the end of the night.
He's gotta be strong
and he's gotta be fast
And he's gotta be fresh from the fight.

I need a hero.
I'm holding out for a hero 'til the morning light.
He's gotta be sure
and it's gotta be soon
And he's gotta be larger than life!
larger than life.

Somewhere after midnight
in my wildest fantasy
Somewhere just beyond my reach
there's someone reaching back for me.
Racing on the thunder and rising with the heat
It's gonna take a superman to sweep me off my feet.

I need a hero.
I'm holding out for a hero 'til the end of the night.
He's gotta be strong
and he's gotta be fast
And he's gotta be fresh from the fight.

I need a hero.
I'm holding out for a hero 'til the morning light.
He's gotta be sure
and it's gotta be soon
And he's gotta be larger than life.

I need a hero.
I'm holding out for a hero 'til the end of the night.

Up where the mountains meet the heavens above
Out where the lightning splits the sea
I could swear there is someone somewhere watching me.

Through the wind and the chill and the rain
And the storm and the flood
I can feel his approach like a fire in my blood.

I need a hero.
I'm holding out for a hero 'til the end of the night.
He's gotta be strong and he's gotta be fast
And he's gotta be fresh from the fight.

I need a hero.
I'm holding out for a hero 'til the morning light.
He's gotta be sure
and he's gotta be soon
And he's gotta be larger than life.

I need a hero.

I'm holding out for a hero 'til the end of the night.
He's gotta be strong and he's gotta be fast
And he's gotta be fresh from the fight.
End Notes:
Well, I think the note I put in body of the story pretty much says it all. Thank you so much for reading and I'll try to have a new saga soon! I have started it, but I don't like to start posting until I'm sure my evil muse has an ending in sight. In the meantime, I'll try to get Buffy's birthday, which will just be one chapter, done to tide us over. THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR READING!!