Chapter 1

No worries tonight. Well, not totally true. There were plenty of things to worry about. But she wasn't going to. She would not worry about her mom, or about her sister-slash-mystical key thingy, or about the superstrong diva bitch who was after Dawn. Nope, tonight she was non-worry girl, just out for a nice, relaxing, action-packed stroll before bed. At least, she had hoped for the action-packed part of it, but action just didn't seem to be making an appearance. Come on, she thought. Baddies? Come out, come out, wherever you are.

But no one seemed to want to play. Or, well, die. The night was mostly quiet, nothing but the sound of her footsteps and the crinkle of leaves twirling around her feet. The soft breeze caused slow tinglies up her arms and along the curve of her spine. Except…the tinglies. Not so much from the breeze, apparently, and more from the annoying vamp that was…she turned her head, looked behind her, eyes scanning the line of trees along the perimeter of the cemetery…right there.

"Spike," she said, making no effort to hide the irritation in her voice. "The stalker routine is getting old. What do you want?"

He stepped out from behind a tree, predatory, cigarette in hand, smoke curling lazily around his head. "Slayer," he growled.

"It's late, I'm tired. I'll only ask one more time." She wasn't tired, and it wasn't that late, but she wasn't in the mood for company. Unless it was the kind she could stake. Well, technically, she could stake Spike, but he couldn't even fight back, so where was the fun in that?

"What?" he shrugged. "It's a free soddin' cemetery, isn't it? Not like I even knew you were here. Not like I could smell the stupid vanilla lotion or the disgusting coconut shampoo or your little racing heartbeat or, or anything at all. Just out for a smoke and a walk, hoping for a little spot of violence before bed, which I'd wager is exactly what you're doing out here."

"Eww, no. I don't smoke."

"What?"

"No smoking. Just walking. Walking alone."

"Oh, left Captain Cardboard snug in bed, did you? You know, if I didn't know better, I'd say you've got an itch that wanker just can't scratch." Buffy looked down. She had, actually, left Riley asleep in bed in his apartment while she crept away for some nighttime action. She felt guilty about it, but she couldn't sleep, and he'd been all content and snoring, with his arm wrapped around her like a vise. Holding her too tight, pulling her too close. She'd had to get away.

Spike's blue eyes looked her up and down, his lips curving into a suggestive smile. "Course, I'd go a round with you, if you want. Give the girl some action." He dropped his cigarette on the ground and crushed it beneath the toe of his boot.

"What? No!" A hot flush crept into her cheeks, and she felt the tinglies spread all over her body. Stupid Spike tinglies, different from the others. She could pick him out blindfolded in a room full of vamps. Not that she'd want to be blindfolded in a room full of vamps. Not that she couldn't handle herself, if she were to suddenly find herself blindfolded in a room full of vamps. Focus. "No…round-going, no itch-scratching, and no…action."

He chuckled. "Meant sparring, pet. A little fist and fangs, well, just fists for you, although, if you have something else in mind, I'd be…happy to oblige."

She was too embarrassed to look him in the eye, so she ignored that last bit and studied his black t-shirt instead. "Please. With your little chip problem? You couldn't even slap my wrist without giving yourself a migraine."

"Actually…" he threw his punch before she could even think, her hand instinctively snapping up to stop his fist just before it connected with her jaw. Her small hand gripped his larger one, frozen, as the air around them seemed to crackle with the possibility of motion, of action.

"What the hell was that?" she demanded. There was no way his chip had malfunctioned. He'd be trying to kill her already if it had, right? Not making with the small talk?

He smirked. "Something I learned recently. Seems the chip doesn't fire if I know I can't hurt you. Knew you'd stop me, see?"

"Do it again," she said, amazed, and also more relieved than she'd like to admit. He kicked his leg up toward her head, and she ducked easily.

"Sort of fun, yeah?"

"Again." He threw another punch, which she again intercepted.

And instinctively returned.

He didn't even know why he was surprised to suddenly feel the snap across the bridge of his nose. "Apparently not fun," he grumbled, feeling the blood start to seep onto his face and wiping it with one arm.

"Oops. Reflex," she said, though she was shaking her arm out as though she'd really like to hit him again, to go all night, that first punch just enough to get her blood flowing. He could hear it pumping away, just beneath that salty skin of hers, could smell her, even through the new distraction of his own blood. Vanilla, and coconut, the light aroma of Slayer sweat, and oh…the best smell on the whole bloody planet. Arousal. Hers. Could he be the cause of it? No, probably just the hint of the fight. Got her hot and bothered every time, though she'd never in a million years admit it. Still, he was worked up good and proper now. It made him want to encourage her, taunt her into beating him into a right bloody pulp, just for those delicious smells. He'd have to find himself a fight somewhere for sure, if she wouldn't take the bait. Then maybe Harm would be out of the crypt, and he could get a good wank in before she turned up…or, maybe she'd be there, and he could get himself a half-decent shag. Bint wasn't bad in the sack, if he kept his hand over her mouth while they were going at it. Good thing she didn't need to breathe, or he probably would have killed her by now. Which really wouldn't be a bad thing, now that he thought about it. But as long as that mouth was shut, he could close his eyes and stroke that long blonde hair and pretend it wasn't Harmony's icy cold body beneath him at all, but his fiery golden Slayer's. All heat and muscle and sweat and…fuck, he'd gotten himself hard just thinking about it.

"Well, that was just rude," he said. "Got me all bloody now."

"Whiner," she muttered. "Some sparring partner you are."

"Didn't know we were dancing yet, is all."

"We aren't dancing, Spike. We aren't anything. I am finishing my patrol, and you are going away."

"Oh, in a hurry to get back to Soldier Boy, now?" He eyed her up and down when she didn't respond. "Didn't think so."

"Goodnight, Spike."

"I could patrol with you, you know. If you want."

"Goodnight, Spike."

He watched her walk away, golden hair bouncing along her back, small shoulders straight, the picture of absolute beauty and righteous indignation.

"Love you, Buffy," he whispered, as she rounded the corner and disappeared into the night.

Chapter 2

"So, we're researching monks?" Xander asked, unloading a box of donuts onto the table that was already piled high with books.

"Right. Monks. Monks that make with the mystical energy," Buffy said, flipping absentmindedly through a book.

"So…we're, uh, dealing with a little monkey business, then?" Xander said, smiling, as Buffy and Giles rolled their eyes at his pun. "Been waiting all day to use that line."

"Xander, why are you still buying donuts?" Anya asked from behind the counter. "I've read that cupcakes are the new trendy sweet treat to eat."

"Try saying that ten times fast," Xander quipped.

"Tiny cakes are cute and delicious, and I want some."

"Hey, beggers can't be choosers." He selected a chocolate-iced donut from the box and bit into it. "Beggers also can't enjoy yummy pastries."

"Oh, well, donuts are okay, I guess," Anya said, walking to the table and giving Xander a kiss. "Mmm, chocolatey."

The bell in the Magic Box tinkled as Willow and Tara walked in, holding hands.

"Hey, gang!" Willow said. "Research time?"

"Yep," Buffy replied. "Trying to find the monks with the mojo."

"Monkey business, huh?" Willow said, grinning.

"Yes!" Xander said, holding his hand up to Willow for a high-five as she and Tara took their seats at the table.

"You two have been friends for way too long," Buffy said, smiling. She turned to Tara. "Your nose looks better. Less…blue and swelly." There was only a hint of a bruise left around her nose and cheek from where Spike had punched her to prove to Tara's family that she was, in fact, human.

"Thanks," Tara replied, gingerly running her fingertips along her bruise. "Wish I had your speedy healing powers, but it's a lot better already. You'll have to thank Spike for me when you see him again."

"Thank him?" Buffy laughed. "For punching you in the face?"

"Well, I mean, it was a helpful punch. A punch for good."

Buffy made a face. "Spike and good don't really belong in the same sentence."

"I don't know…" Tara trailed off, apparently lost in thought.

"Where's the Riley-man?" Willow asked.

"Class. He should be around later."

"And the Dawnster?" Xander asked.

"Staying at Janice's house," Buffy sighed, wringing her hands in a suddenly nervous gesture. "I didn't think it was a good idea to let her go, but no one asked me. Mom said yes, but maybe I should just go get her and bring her home." She stood, reaching for her jacket. "Yeah, I should probably do that."

Giles touched her shoulder gently. "Buffy," he said quietly. "I'm sure she'll be fine." She flopped back into her chair with a worried expression.

"Yeah. Relax, Buff," Xander said. "It's Friday, time for fun and frolicking and all-around merry-making." He eyed the books on the table. "Oh, and researching. Forgot that."

"Yes, well," Giles cleared his throat. "As thrilling as this mindless chatter is, I'd like to actually get started with the research you mentioned.

"But Giles, I am researching," Buffy said. "See, I have a book in my hand."

He groaned.

"Sorry, sorry. Serious girl, here. I know we've got to get some answers on these guys. Which will hopefully get us some answers on our mystery bad girl."

A sudden crash from the back of the shop caused the group around the table to jump.

"Giles? Are you hiding someone in the training room?" Buffy asked casually.

"Not that I'm aware of, no." He moved toward the training room, but before he could reach it, the knob turned and the door opened.

In the doorway stood one of the most unique human beings Buffy had ever seen. At least, she assumed he was human. He looked human, but Buffy knew well enough that looking human didn't necessarily mean he was one. Then again, he was too well-dressed to be a demon. Cause really, even vampires-so fashion challenged. And this guy was definitely not. He wore slim gray wool suit pants that fit him perfectly, along with a crisp white button down shirt that hung, intentionally untucked. A fitted gray paisley-print vest was buttoned over the shirt, with a large silver watch hanging from a chain that seemed to be tucked into one of the vest pockets. A black leather blazer and black Converse sneakers completed the sleek-but-eclectic ensemble.

His outfit wasn't the only strange thing about him, though. Long black and copper dreadlocks were molded into a loose ponytail at the base of his neck, the thick dreads somehow elegant as they draped down his back. His large almond-shaped eyes suggested Asian descent, but his skin was the color of cocoa. An amused smile played on his lips, and his natural confidence was apparent.

"Whoa," Buffy said. "Who the hell are you?"

"And what on earth are you doing in the back of my store?"

The man's eyes swept around the room, settling on the table and its occupants. He looked, for a moment, uncertain. And then he nodded, a small almost imperceptible move that seemed meant to reassure him, or them, somehow.

"Right then," he said in a rich, deep voice, with what was clearly and English accent. "Okay. Um, well…how to begin without sounding mad as a hatter and wigging everyone out good and proper"

"However you do it, I would highly suggest beginning rather soon," Giles said. "I'm not usually fond of people poking about in the off-limits areas of my shop."

The man sighed. "Okay." He looked around again. "Terribly sorry for the clumsy entrance, but our uh…methods seem to be a little wonky on the delivery. I'm afraid this is going to give you all the extreme wiggins…" he took a deep breath, puffed out his chest, and smiled, "but my name is Asher Pritchett, and I'm here from the future."

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"The huh?" Buffy was the first to speak.

"Well, that's something we haven't heard before," Xander said, looking around the table. "We haven't heard that before, right?"

"Right," Willow confirmed. "This would be our first encounter with a time traveler." She glanced over at the man. "If, you know, that's really what he is."

"I assure you, I am," he said. "Rupert, if I may?" he moved toward the group. "I'm here on behalf of the Watchers' Council, and we-"

"Save it," Buffy interrupted. "We don't work for the Council. You've come to the wrong place."

"Are you a Watcher?" Xander asked. "Cause, gotta say, Watchers don't usually look so…cool." He looked guiltily at Giles. "No offense."

Giles rolled his eyes.

"Thank you," the man said. "And yes, I am a Watcher."

"What kind of trick is this?" Giles asked. "If you want something from us, you might just say so. No need to tell us a grandiose story about time travel."

"To be fair, Rupert," the man said, "You haven't heard my story yet. I think you'll find it rather fascinating, although believable would work out better for us all."

"Get to it, then," Giles said. "Before I throw you out. How about you start with how you know my name?"

Asher paced beside the table, studying each of the table's occupants carefully. His muscular thighs were visible through the wool of his trousers as he moved, his obviously strong hands clasping and unclasping around the smooth silver of his pocket watch as he started to speak. When his pacing brought him closer to Giles, Buffy could see that the two men were of almost the same height, although Asher's thick dreadlocks gave him the appearance of being taller. He was built quite differently than Giles, however, his well-muscled body evident even through the layers of extravagant clothing. "Here me out, I implore you," he said. "I wouldn't be here if it weren't of the utmost importance. Of the critical, actually.

I know your name because you are the Watcher of the current time period's active Slayer." He glanced at Buffy and nodded. "Miss Summers," he said, nodding stiffly, then looking away. "I come from the year 2008, which, if I've done this right, would be eight years in the future for you. I hope I'm in the year 2000?" he was rewarded with a nod from several members of the group. "I'm tracking a weapon that has been taken…and brought here, to this time, to Sunnydale." He seemed satisfied with his explanation, but at exasperated looks from Buffy and Giles, continued. "It's an extremely…powerful weapon. It was foretold that it will, at its maturity, change the fight for good…forever. In our favor, of course. Which, we believe, is why it was taken from…its rightful place. It is our belief that it has been, or will be, intercepted by some big time baddies for use in a future fight against the Slayer. This Slayer. You, Miss Summers."

The room was quiet for a moment, with Buffy finally breaking the silence. "And again I say…huh?"

Asher looked at her, the corners of his mouth twitching in amusement. "There's a weapon. It's important. It was stolen from us. We need it back, and if I don't find it, it will be used to defeat you."

Buffy stared at him. "So…you expect us to believe that you time travelled here? And, if we jump over that monumental hurdle of believability, you then expect us to help you find a weapon that the Council lost? We don't work for the Council, we don't work with the Council, and we don't believe in time travel."

"Oh, time travel is real," Anya chimed in. "Humans haven't got it figured out yet, but there are some demons with the ability to move through time or create temporal folds, the same way some demons can travel through dimensions at will. It's just like opening portals to other dimensions, only, you know, to other times."

"Really?" Xander asked. "How have I not known about this extreme coolness?"

"That's exactly what happened, actually," Asher said, ignoring Xander's remark. "The demon who took our weapon has time travel capabilities, of course."

"Uh-huh." Buffy shook her head. "Giles, is he for real? Can the Council send people back in time?"

"I'm sure Rupert is aware that the Council has the means for time travel, even in your time period. It's extremely risky and not at all recommended, even now, but the sitch we're in presented no other options."

"Yes, well, that is…true, actually," Giles said. "The Council does have the means for time travel, although, as I understand it, the system is rather rudimentary."

Asher rubbed his hands together, playing, now, with the chunky silver rings on his fingers. "Yes. Because of the risky nature of it all, I have an approved stay in your time for just 24 hours. After the 24 hours are up, I will be retrieved and brought back to my present. If I return without the weapon…well, let's just say there will be a whole world of badness. The baddest badness imaginable. Not to mention that the head of the Council will have my job. If the Slayer doesn't kick my ass all the way across bleeding London first, that is." He pointedly didn't look at Buffy as he said it, but she flinched with the sting of his words.

"Your Slayer…she's in London?"

He looked at her. "Yes. She works very closely with the Council."

"Oh." Buffy looked down, not wanting to see the looks of pity that were no doubt on her friends' faces as they watched her. She could feel Giles' eyes, in particular, on her, could almost feel his sadness hitting her in waves. She understood, perfectly, what the new Watcher wasn't saying. Because she would never work closely with the Council, wouldn't be in London instead of guarding the Hellmouth. She wasn't the Slayer in his time. Sometime, in the next eight years, she was going to die. She had known it, always, that she had an expiration date earlier than most, but hearing it as truth was different. Eight years from now she would be dead, for certain. Probably even sooner than that.

Chapter 3

Asher continued on with his story, oblivious to how his words affected Buffy. "Our Slayer…she's extremely attached to this particular weapon. You might say it's…precious to her. It was my duty to protect it, all of our duties, really, because of how important it is to the Slayer, to the Council…to the world. But he took it, in the middle of the night, and then he was gone before any of our traps could catch him. It was devastating. It all happened so fast." He looked stricken at his own words, shook his head and blinked his eyes furiously.

"Wow, you must really like this weapon," Buffy said. Asher looked at her, his mouth open to reply, but Giles interrupted him.

"Excuse me. This is an interesting story, but how do we know you're telling us the truth about any of this? Assuming that your time travel tale is to be believed in the first place, what's to prove to us that you are indeed one of the, um…good guys?"

"Are you really calling the Council 'good guys'?" Buffy asked in disbelief.

"My Council isn't the Council you know today," Asher said quickly. "In fact, very little of the Watchers' Council you know still remains. None of the 'Council Creeps,' as the Slayer from my time likes to refer to them. We are good guys, I assure you."

"Yes, but how do we know that?" Giles pressed.

Asher kept moving around the shop, as though he couldn't bear to stand still. "Hmm, how to prove it. Well, the Watchers' Council, for its lack of a working time travel system in your time, has had the capability to track time-travelling demons for decades. Their system senses the presence of portals, you see. From there it can place a high probability on the intended destination of the portal, whether it be to another time, or to another dimension entirely. It's only a matter of time, pun intended, before the current Council head is made aware of the demon who traveled here. He won't know what the demon took with him, but he'll be able to wager a good guess. Color me surprised if…Mr. Travers, I believe his name is, isn't quite interested in acquiring this unusual weapon for himself…to study. Luckily, he won't be able to track the man-made portal we created afterwards, to send me here—their system only works for demons. But, given what we know, I would expect Travers to contact you, perhaps even come to Sunnydale himself to take a chance at picking up the weapon himself—though I must say that it would be of the extreme bad for him to take possession of the weapon. In fact, it's best that he know as little about the situation as possible, aside from that which he gleans on his own. It really isn't wise to contact him at all…but, for purposes of gaining your trust…perhaps you could call him to verify the existence of this demon in Sunnydale? If he confirms that the demon is indeed in the vicinity…would you believe me, then?"

All eyes turned to Giles. "Well…yes, I suppose that would go a long ways toward supporting your…unusual story. Although I certainly don't fancy a phone call with Quentin Travers, today or ever. Also, it's the middle of the night in London…surely it would be best to wait a bit on the phone call?"

Asher shook his head. "There really is no time to waste. If calling him is what it takes to gain your trust, then please, make the call."

Hesitantly, Giles picked up the phone and dialed. And waited. "Yes, I need to speak with Quentin Travers, please." A response from the other end prompted an, "I see. This is Rupert Giles in Sunnydale, California. It is quite imperative that I speak with him." Another pause, and then, "I see. Thank you." He hung up the phone.
"It seems that Travers is on his way to Sunnydale as we speak…his answering service says that his plane should be landing any moment."

Asher looked surprised. "But the portal was opened…" he checked his watch, "two hours ago, and the very most. He would have had to have been in the air already when it happened. I don't understand. Does he come here often? Is there another reason he would be coming to Sunnydale?"

Giles looked to Buffy, each of them thinking of their resident mystery bad girl and the secret identity of the key. "Perhaps."

"Listen," Asher said. "This makes it even more imperative that you take my word as truth. The current Council must not get their hands on this. If Travers learns that the future Watchers' Council has a vested interest here, it will make him even more eager to get the weapon for himself. He must not be alerted of my presence here. From what my Council head tells me, Travers' methods and morals were always…questionable, at best. It's quite critical for us to start working on this right away."

Giles still looked skeptical.

"I know!" Willow said suddenly, her eyes glittering with excitement. "What about a truth spell?"

Asher groaned, rolling his eyes but looking distinctly uncomfortable. "Should have known that was coming."

"Actually, that sounds like a rather wonderful idea," Giles said, nodding his head. "If we find you're telling the truth about all of this, you can count on us to help you on your mission."

"It's a dangerous suggestion, Rupert. The things I know…well, you lot aren't supposed to know all that yet."
Buffy looked at Asher, determined. "Truth spell it is. Agree to it, or get out and find your weapon on your own."
He sighed, shoulders slumping a fraction in resignation. "Very well. Let's do it."
________________________________________

"Before we begin, please understand that giving away too much information on this subject could very seriously jeopardize the future as we know it. Please understand if there are questions I can't answer completely." Despite his straight back and the tight lock of his jaw, his hands betrayed his nervousness in the way they clasped and unclasped, fingers darting out to rub against the metal of his pocket watch. The motion seemed to soothe him somewhat, and he looked up to Willow and Tara. "I'm ready," he said.

Buffy watched as the two witches clasped hands and murmured something about truth, and then chanted something in a language she didn't understand. She studied the man seated on the chair. Despite her instinctive skepticism, something about Asher made her feel…peaceful. Maybe it was the naturally soothing timbre of his deep voice, or the muscular bulk of his frame and his casual confidence, even in this crisis, that made her feel safe around him in a way that she normally didn't around anyone but the Scoobies and her family. She couldn't help it—she wanted to trust him. She hoped he was telling the truth.

"Okay," Buffy began, once the spell was done. She walked back and forth in a half-circle in front of his chair. "Is Asher your real name?"

He laughed. "That's your first question? Really?" She glared at him. "Yes, of course," he answered.

"Tell us about the weapon. What kind of weapon is it? What does it look like?"

Asher shook his head. "Please, don't make me tell you more about the weapon itself. I've been instructed to give you as few details as possible so as not to jeopardize its existence. You see, we believe that once it exists it can't un-exist, but as I'm sure you know-" he looked at Xander pointedly, "changing the past can certainly change the future. If I botch this up, I could return to a world I don't even recognize."

"Like in Back to the Future!" Xander exclaimed. Asher nodded.

"Giles," Buffy whined. "If he's under a truth spell, why isn't he answering my questions like he's supposed to?"

"Buffy, the truth spell doesn't force him to answer specific questions. It only ensures that what he does say will be truthful."

She huffed, crossing her arms. "So, how do you expect us to reclaim a weapon you can't even describe to us?"

"I don't expect you to reclaim it at all, actually," Asher said. "I will get the weapon back on my own. I only expect you all to help me locate it."

"And you're going to get it back from this demon…without my help?" she asked, with raised eyebrows.

"Well, yes. In my time, Watchers are trained to do more than…watch. We've been taught to fight alongside our Slayers."

"Really?" Giles asked, clearly fascinated. "I've always thought that was how it should be done."

Asher nodded. "So, I should be able to get the weapon on my own, if we can just locate it. in fact, had I been familiar with Sunnydale already and had any clue as to the weapon's whereabouts, I would have attempted to resolve the matter without coming into contact with you at all. But, you know, you can't actually travel to Sunnydale these days, so…it's the location I need help with." He looked to Tara and Willow. "I had thought that…maybe a spell might help us find out where it is?"

Willow looked thoughtful. "Well, yes, a locator spell would work to find a person, but for an object, I'm not so sure. And even if we could, we would need another object that is somehow connected to the object in question and…well, it could be all kinds of confusing. What about a demon locator spell to track the demon who took it?"

"No good. We believe that the demon who took the weapon is more of a middle-man in this instance. Even if he still has it in his possession, he'll have passed it along before we could track him down. Maybe you'd be willing to try it? A regular locator spell, I mean. For the…object. Since this particular weapon belongs to the Slayer in my time, I feel rather…confident that something of Buffy's might lead us to it."

"Well, yes, we could try…" Willow said, uncertainly. "If you think it would work."

"Let's talk about this demon guy," Xander said. "Why'd he take the weapon in the first place if he was just gonna pass it on down the line? What's his demony plan?"

"We don't think it was his plan at all, actually," Asher said. "We think he was…coerced into retrieving it for another being. This particular demon would have been chosen for the job because of his time travel abilities and because of his belief that a weapon just like this one will eventually result in his own demise. You see, there is a prophecy regarding this demon and this type of…weapon. He's aware of the prophecy, so it's likely that he would want to destroy the weapon before it destroys him. Hopefully, he won't have the opportunity to do that. Something more intimidating seems to have convinced this demon to return here, to this time period, with the object, instead of simply destroying it himself, in our time."

"So this baddie was hired by an even bigger, um, baddie?" Tara asked.

"You got it."

So who's the bigger bad?" Buffy said. "You've got it figured out, right?" Something seemed to click in her brain, and she felt panic set in. "It's her, isn't it? The mystery diva bitch that has it in for me? Does it help her find the key somehow?"

Asher looked momentary confused. "Are you referring to Glory?" All eyes turned to him with raised eyebrows. "Oh, um, my bad. That's her name. You'll figure all of that out on your own, though. But an emphatic no on that one, for sure. It's possible that the weapon could help her, but at this point, she'd have no idea how to…use it for her purposes. I do have a theory on who, or rather, what, it is that could be helped by acquiring the weapon. Someone, or something, rather, with a certain degree of omniscience, with the ability to see how something that doesn't exist for many years could be of great use in the here and now." He looked at them expectantly.

"So, what is it?" Buffy asked.

"Really? You've no guesses? My understanding is that you've already come into contact with this particular entity on a previous occasion."

"Well, now that you've vagued that up for me, sure, I know exactly what you're talking about." She rolled her eyes. "I've come into contact with plenty of bad things over the years. Care to narrow it down?"

"I think you might remember this one. Dressed up like your former…" Asher's eyes slid to Giles and back to Buffy, "computer teacher, tried to convince your boyfriend to kill himself? Hangs around with a group of guys that have crazy runic signs where eyeballs should be?"

"The First," Buffy said.

"First what?" Xander asked.

"Evil," Buffy, Giles, and Asher said in unison.

"You think that's what has your weapon?" Giles asked. "Why?"

The future Watcher fidgeted. "I fear giving too much information here, but I will share what I can. A few years from now, the First Evil will stage an uprising, a rather frightening one at that, here in Sunnydale."

"How?" said Buffy. "Isn't it all non-corporeal? Ghostish?"

"The First finds a sort of agent to do its bidding. Rather unsavory agent, at that. And, of course, there are the Bringers. The First Evil can never be eliminated—it always was, it always is, it always shall be; however, this battle will leave its "army," if you will, quite crippled. Decimated, really. And there will be one extra-large unintended consequence of this battle that the First Evil will not have foreseen, and that consequence will effectively prevent the First Evil itself from becoming…powerful again. Ever."

"Ever?" Buffy asked.

"Ever."

She smiled. "Did I do that?"

Asher smiled back at her, his dark eyes warm and friendly. "You did that. It's quite…legendary, actually."

"Sweet. If I've got to be all non-living in your time, then at least I'm a legend, right?"

He looked away from her. "There are still bad things in the world, believe me. But the source of the evil, the truest darkness there is, no longer has the opportunity to seize power. The point is that, while the First won't stage this uprising for a few years yet, its agents are already plotting, planning, waiting for the right…shift in the balance of things. The First would benefit immensely from having this weapon at its agent's side. Aside from the weapon's inherent power, it would, um…devastate the Slayer to see it used for evil. And because of the…nature of the weapon…you, the First's most formidable corporeal enemy, will never be able to destroy it, no matter how powerful it makes the First's army."

"What?" she said. "Of course I would destroy it, if it's evil. Why wouldn't I?"

"Trust me on this," Asher said. "Once you see it, you'll never harm it."

She seemed stumped by his assessment, and by his choice of words.

"I'm still confused," Xander said. "What does the weapon do? What makes it all with the powerful? You know, we had a bazooka once…" he looked wistful.

"Well…" Asher faltered. "It's…multi-faceted. It has…many skills, most of which are still developing. Which, I'd wager, is why the First chose to take it now, and not at some point when it is more…mature. At this point, it's still quite…moldable, despite our best efforts. It is meant for good, but the First, no doubt, hopes that it is still early enough that it can trick the weapon into…switching loyalties." He sighed with the effort of choosing his words so carefully.

"A weapon with loyalties…" Giles said. "I suppose that it wouldn't be the first time…"

The metallic chime of the shop door opening startled the group. All heads turned to look at the doorway, where several suited men stood, the one in front clearly recognizable to Buffy and Giles.

"Quentin Travers," Giles said, fighting to keep the disdain out of his voice.

"Rupert." Quentin Travers looked around at the group, quite disappointed that no one seemed the least bit surprised by his sudden appearance in the shop.

"Well, this should be interesting," Buffy muttered, turning to Asher. "Didn't you say something about not alerting them to your presence?"

But when she turned to the chair, she found it empty.
Asher was gone.

Chapter 4

"I would say it's good to see you," Giles said icily, "But I do so hate to lie. What brings you to Sunnydale, Quentin?"

"A few things, actually," Travers replied. His entourage of Watchers wandered about the shop, fingering the mystical objects they encountered, flipping the pages of miscellaneous spell books.

Giles thrust his hands deep into his pockets, fighting the violent urges that flared inside him whenever he saw, or even thought of, Quentin Travers. Giles had lost all faith in Travers, and in fact, the entire Council, after the Cruciamentum and the events that followed. The culmination of which, he couldn't forget, nearly got his Slayer killed and resulted in his own firing from the Council.

"You have no business here," Buffy said, hands on her hips. "We don't work for the Council." But curiosity got the better of her. "Why are you here, anyway?"

Travers smiled, a tight, formal smile that made Giles cringe. "It would appear that we have some things to discuss. Perhaps it would be…best if we closed up your little shop for the day, Rupert?" He nodded to a younger man standing near the door, who promptly flipped the sign on the door so that the word 'Closed' faced outward. Travers' eyes did a cursory sweep of the group seated around the table, and then he continued. "I believe it would be best if we spoke in private, Rupert, along with your…Slayer, of course."

"No can do, Q," Buffy said. She felt as though she were channelling Faith, all attitude and false bravado, and for the moment, it was a good thing. "You don't mind if I call you Q, do you? Great. Well, Q, this is my team. They assist me. They are my friends, and anything you have to say to me or to Giles can, and should, be said in front of them. So, spill." She folded her arms across her chest.

"Still a feisty one, your Slayer," Travers observed. "Well, ahem, we were on our way here to discuss your…situation regarding the mystical key you contacted me about and the entity interested in acquiring it-"

"I certainly didn't expect you to come here in person," Giles sputtered. "A phone call would surely have sufficed."

"Perhaps," Travers said. "No matter. Upon landing, I was alerted to a more immediate matter that will certainly require the Slayer's attention."

"Oh?" Giles said, affecting an air of nonchalance, his behavior making it clear to Buffy and the Scoobies that they should follow his lead and feign ignorance as well.

Travers hesitated. "Are you quite certain we shouldn't discuss this in private, Rupert?" He glanced back to the group. "This is certainly sensitive information."

"I must agree with Buffy," Giles said. "These are valuable members of our team. Their involvement is non-negotiable. Please continue."

"Well, I'm certain you are all aware that certain demons occasionally possess rather unique abilities. A very few of them possess the ability to open portals to different dimensions or even to different time periods within this dimension." He paused, clearly expecting to see shock or dismay on their faces. He was met, instead, with attentive but passive expressions all around.

Told you so, Anya mouthed to Xander.

"Okay…clearly you all know more about demonology that I had anticipated. I thought this might come as a surprise. Apparently, I was incorrect in that assumption." He cleared his throat. "At approximately three-thirty this afternoon, your time, of course, Sahjhan, commonly known as the Timeshifter, opened a portal from Sunnydale present to London some eight years in the future. He returned to the here and now shortly thereafter, but we believe it a possibility that he brought something back with him, and we have a theory on what that something could be. This thing could be rather volatile in the wrong hands, and would be invaluable to the Council to study. Such a thing is so rare as to have never been recorded in all of Council history; in fact, it's always been believed to be impossible. You can see why something so…mythical in nature would be of extreme interest to us. We've tracked Sahjhan's movements for years, because of his interest in it, in destroying the thing before it destroys him."

"So, what do you want us to do?" Buffy asked, impatiently.

"Locate Sahjhan so that we might intercept the item in question before he destroys it, of course," Travers said. "You'll have an interesting time of it, as Sahjhan is currently non-corporeal. This isn't his natural state; however, and therefore, he can be re-corporealized using the proper spell. He can also be trapped in a vessel, using magical methods. I'm sure you'll figure it out…with the proper motivation."

"Why would we help you, Q?" Buffy asked. "What's in it for us?"

Travers smiled. "The information about your mysterious female foe, of course. You present me with the object I seek, and we'll provide you with information that may help you to defeat her." He looked around. "It's imperative that we move relatively quickly, but I will give you a bit of time to think it over and to formulate a plan. This must be executed with precision to ensure that we get what we want from the demon. My staff and I are quite jet-lagged from the journey, so we'll get ourselves settled in at our hotel and rest a while. We shall return in the morning to talk strategy."

"You seem rather confident that Sahjhan won't destroy it before the morning," Giles observed.

Travers nodded slightly. "He is non-corporeal, after all. He may have managed to travel with it—he can touch other objects using extreme concentration, but he does not have the ability to destroy something so powerful on his own. He'll have to find an ally to assist him. I'm sure it will be quite the production. Not something to be done without ceremony. I feel certain that we do have a window of time in which to plan."

He turned to go, but Buffy's voice stopped him. She remembered Asher's warning, but she couldn't contain her curiosity any longer.

"Hey, Q?"

"Yes, Miss Summers?"

"What is it that you're looking for? This mythical thingy? What exactly is it?"

His eyes swept across the room. "Ah, I knew you would ask sooner or later. Actually, I thought it would be a little sooner. It's a vampire, Miss Summers. A vampire child."

"A vampire child?" she looked confused. "As in, a child changed by a vampire? Like the Anointed One, back in the day? I don't get it. That's rare, but not impossible."

Travers shook his head. "Not a changed child. Quite the opposite actually. The child of a vampire. By birth."

"Huh?" Buffy said, her jaw dropping.

"Impossible!" Giles exclaimed.

The head of the Watchers' Council looked smug, having finally managed to surprise this group of misfits. "Yes, seemingly so," he mused. "So you see why we might want to lay eyes on this thing for ourselves." And then he was out the door, his entourage following behind him.

Xander broke the stunned silence that followed. "And to all that I say…what?"

"A vampire child, Giles?" Buffy asked. "Vampires can't have children. Right?"

"Right," Giles replied. "At least, as far as I know. I've certainly never heard of it." He took his glasses off and rubbed the lenses against his blazer. "I believe it is up to us to find the truth in what our two visitors have told us today."

"And why would Asher have called it a weapon?" Willow asked. "And for that matter, why wouldn't he have wanted to tell Buffy what it was? I mean, vampires are kind of her specialty, right? Why would he have kept that information to himself? Unless Mr. Travers is the one who was lying." She frowned. "My head's all full and confused now."

"Breathe, sweetie," Tara said, in her calming voice.

"So, what do we do, G-Man?" Xander asked. "What's our next step? Which story do we believe?"

"We don't have a choice but to help the Council," Buffy said. Her friends raised their eyebrows.

"Which Council?" Willow asked.

"The current one. Travers. He has information on the diva bitch and how the monks play into it all and he knows about the key thingie. I have to know what he knows."

Xander raised his hand. "But, how do we know Asher doesn't have all that information, too? I mean, he knows her name, right? Glory? I mean, assuming he was telling us the truth."

"But he was telling us the truth," Willow said. "Truth spell, remember?"

"Yeah, but he's not all with the sharing—he's the total opposite. Giles, why wouldn't he tell me about a vampire child?"

Giles shook his head. "I don't know. We do know some things for certain, though. It looks like our two resident, um…Watchers are on the same page on a few points. One: we know that this demon did go to the future, and that he did bring something back. Two: I think we can assume that whether it truly is a vampire child or some type of unusual weapon, it's not safe in our time and in the hands of a demon. Or the First, as the case may be. We do not know to what extent Quentin Travers can be trusted. If, in fact, there is such a thing as the child of a vampire, we don't know why the Council is in possession of it in the future. We don't know if the child is good or evil, though Asher was adamant that the 'weapon' was to be used for good. We don't know if it has a soul. We do know that the future Council seems to value it greatly. I'm not sure that Travers should be allowed to get his hands on it, either way. Good or evil, supernatural or no, a child should not be subjected to Quentin's…tests."

"Okay," Buffy said. "So…what do we do?"

Giles thought. "Well, I would say that either way, we need to find this…child, or whatever it is. Willow, how long will the truth spell you performed on Asher hold?"

"A few hours, at least."

"Does anyone know where he might have gone?"

"I assume he went scampering away when the Council boys showed up. Current Council boys, I mean. God, this is so confusing!" Buffy shook her head. "He was pretty clear that Asher plus Quentin equals badness. So, we have a bone to pick with Asher now about the lack of upfront information. How do we get him back here before the truth spell wears off?"

"I don't think he'll have gone far," Giles mused. "He seemed to find the matter quite…urgent. He may even be hiding outside of shop, waiting for a sign that Travers has departed. Xander, why don't you see if you can find him outside, or in the shops nearby? Meanwhile, our best avenue for gathering more information would be to do a quick bit of research on the demon in question. Asher did not provide a name, but our friend Travers most certainly did. Sahjhan, I believe it was?"

"You can spell that?" Xander asked. Giles rolled his eyes and began gathering books from the bookcases.

"Giles!" Buffy exclaimed. "There are too many books on this table as it is. How can we manage researching our new demon and our resident bad girl at the same time?"

He sighed. "I hate to say it, Buffy, but I think we are going to have to take a time out on the monk research to figure out what is going on with this weapon. Or child. Or vampire. Whatever it is, I think we are…sufficiently involved in the situation at this point. I don't think we can turn away from it now. Willow, why don't you and Tara start working on the locator spell Asher suggested earlier?"

"Or, we could just do a locator spell for Asher!" Willow said, excited for a split-second before her face fell. "Except, we don't have anything of his. Crap. Guess you're hoofing it, Xander."

"No matter," Giles said. "He shouldn't be far away."

"I'll go with him," Anya piped up, smiling. "I have some questions for Asher about my future with Xander."

"Yes, accompany Xander. Buffy and I will start researching our demon."

"Goody." She sighed. "More research."

Chapter 5

Twenty minutes later, Willow and Tara were ready to start the spell. "Got all the ingredients together, guys. Now, I just need a map of Sunnydale and something that belongs to Buffy." Buffy slipped a chunky silver bracelet from her wrist and tossed it over to the corner of the shop where the witches were sitting cross-legged facing each other, preparing for the incantation. Giles set his very old, dusty reference book on the table and crossed the store, producing a map of Sunnydale from behind the counter. He handed it to Willow, and she set about unfolding it.

"What's taking Xander so long?" Buffy asked. "Asher really couldn't have gotten that far, could he? You don't think he…ran away, or something, do you?"

"That wouldn't make much sense," Giles said, flipping through his book. "I'm sure they'll return any moment. Ah, here it is." His thumb moved over the page as he murmured, "Sahjhan, Granok demon, prophecies related to…"

The two witches began to chant softly in the corner, and Buffy leaned over Giles' arm to peer at the sketch on the page. "Ooh, not pretty," she said.

"Oh, dear," Giles said, peering at the text. "I think I know why Sahjhan would have been interested in this particular…child. Buffy…I don't think you're going to like this at all."

"Share time, Giles."

"According to this text, Sahjhan is obsessed with a set of scrolls. Nyazian, they're called. They reference the end of days, apparently. Much of the scrolls' content is shrouded in mystery because of the difficulty in translation. But part of it details this demon's death…at the hands of the one born to the vampire with a soul."

"The one born to the vampire with a…" Buffy trailed off, eyes widening. The souled vampire. Angel.

"It's Angel's child," she breathed.

"We don't know that, Buffy."

"Giles, we do. How many other souled vampires do you know? Have you even heard of? Ever? I don't know how it's possible, or why, but it has to be his. And that means I can't just leave it there, with Sahjhan, or the First, or whoever."

Giles shook his head. "Buffy, Quentin could be wrong. He wasn't even certain that the demon traveled with anything at all. Perhaps Asher's description is truly accurate—maybe it is just some sort of weapon."

"I don't think so, Giles. I think I have to find this kid." Her mind was suddenly racing. Angel had a child. Impossible. But she couldn't stand the thought of it being in danger.

"Hey!" Willow chimed in from the corner. "Asher was right! Buffy's bracelet worked after all. We've got a location." Buffy jumped from her chair and rushed over to look at the map on the floor. There was a tiny orange dot that marked Buffy's location in the Magic Box. And, several blocks away, another orange dot glowed just as brightly.

"It's the Christmas tree lot!" Buffy said. "God, I am so mentally challenged! That's exactly where I found the Bringers before, back when they were messing with Angel." There was his name again. The First had it in for him, even then. It made so much sense that they would go after his child. She grabbed her lightweight jacket and slipped it on. "Giles, I'm going to go check this out. See if I can find this kid."

"Buffy, I don't think you should walk into this unprepared. Wasn't Asher very clear that you shouldn't lay eyes on it? What if seeing it harms you in some way? We should wait and talk to Asher more, find out everything he knows. And you shouldn't go alone. Didn't you say Riley would be here soon? Why don't you take him along as backup?"

Her eyes widened. "Right, because that wouldn't be awkward at all. Hey, Riley, why don't you come along and help me fight a battle to save my ex-boyfriend's kid? You know, the vampire ex-boyfriend you hate? Somehow, I don't think that would lead to anything good. Look, I've got to do this. Call it recon—I'll just scope out the sitch, figure out what they're up to over there, and then I'll be back and we'll work out a plan. In the meantime, find out what Asher knows. Find out everything he knows." And then she was gone and Giles was shaking his head in frustration.

He should have kept the information to himself, Giles thought, at least until Xander and Anya had returned with the elusive future Watcher. He simply did not see how this could turn out well at all.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

She walked as fast as her legs could carry her down the sidewalk, fighting the urge to sprint. Angel's child. What on earth could happen in the next eight years that would make Angel having a child a possibility? She wondered if it was a boy or a girl, if it looked like him, with the dark eyes and dark hair. A quiet child, she would guess. Thoughtful.

And despite the fact that Asher had made it pretty clear that she herself was dead eight years from now, a nagging voice in the back of her head kept pointing out that it was her bracelet that had worked for the locator spell. She couldn't dare to hope, could she, that somehow in the future, by some miracle, she and Angel would have a child together?

She was so lost in her thoughts that she had walked two blocks without paying any attention to the vampire tinglies that she now realized had been curling up her spine all along.

"Spike," she said, without turning around.

"Hello, cutie." He was nearer than she'd thought, or maybe he'd just closed in when she'd said his name, because his mouth was suddenly right next to her ear, his voice rich and seductive, and she shivered against her will. Damn vampire. Focus, she reminded herself, as she seemed to do lately when she found herself in Spike's presence. On a mission here.

"Getting this close to me is a surefire way to find yourself in an ashtray, Spike," she warned, not slowing her pace.

"Ooh, big bad Slayer with her big bad threats. You don't scare me, you know." He'd moved to walking beside her, his coat billowing as he kept stride with her in the cool early night air.

"Not now, Spike."

"Why? Out to kill something nasty?"

"Maybe."

"Could use a good kill, myself."

"Get your own kill, Spike."

"What, can't share? I see. Vampire's help isn't good enough for the Slayer. You can be a real bitch sometimes, you know that?"

They had reached the old Christmas tree lot, empty and abandoned. Buffy stopped, holding her hands up in front of her. "You know what? Fine," she huffed. "Fine. You want to help me on my rescue mission to save Angel's child, be my guest. But you get in my way, and you will be dust faster than you can say…oh, anything!" She glared at him. "Cause you'll be dust. Got it?"

He raised his eyebrows, mouth open in confusion. "Huh? Peaches doesn't have a sprog! Vampires can't. Cause…dead. You know that, right? What on earth does that Watcher teach you, anyway?"

"He does. Or he will. Have a sprog. Child. Whatever. Come with me or don't." She turned on her heel.

He clucked his tongue behind her. "Well, this is something I got to see for myself." He followed Buffy through the vacant lot until she stopped in front of a person-sized hole in the ground. "How far do-" he started, but she had jumped into the hole before he'd even finished his sentence.

"Bollucks," he grumbled. The things he got himself into, following the Slayer around like some lovesick nancy boy. He sighed and jumped into the hole.

Buffy hit the ground with a soft thud, and she could tell immediately that she wasn't alone. A dim light danced against the walls further into the cavern, and she could hear voices. Spike's boots were louder than hers as the vampire landed beside her.

"Could give a bloke some warning, you know," he muttered.

"Shh," she said, elbowing him and holding a finger to her lips. She crept toward the voices, keeping her body pressed toward one wall of the cavern. Spike followed suit behind her. She peeked her head around a corner, and in the flickering torch light she saw a group of men, the Bringers, seated in a circle and chanting quietly. In the middle of the circle stood the tall, ugly demon Buffy now knew as Sahjhan, along with another man whose back was turned to Buffy as he leaned down toward the floor to tend to something she couldn't see.

"You lied to me," Sahjhan said. "This child isn't the one."

"How can you be sure?" A chill ran down Buffy's spine as she recognized the voice. The mayor. The mayor she'd killed two years ago. "It is the child of the souled vampire, after all." Neither seemed to be paying much attention to the chanting around them.

"I have a wild feeling this one isn't going to grow to manhood and kill me, for one thing," Sahjhan said, drily. "She isn't even born of darkness. I should have left her where I found her. You sent me on a ridiculous goose chase. I'm not merely a tool for your bidding. Although, not a bad idea. Maybe it's time I found someone to do my bidding."

"Yes, well, things don't always turn out the way we want them to, now do they?" Although, by the sound of the mayor's voice (the First's voice, Buffy reminded herself), things had turned out exactly as he'd wanted them to. "But don't worry, you'll have plenty of time to think of whom would be best to do your bidding in the future. I recommend vampires, myself. So efficient, and so darn easy to kill when you're finished with them. Poof!" he said, standing and turning so that Buffy could see his face for the first time. He made a motion with his hand clearly meant to imply vamp dusting that, in the end, looked more like jazz hands. Still, Buffy shuddered at the sight of the mayor's friendly, evil face.

"You owe me for my troubles," Sahjhan said, but just as he finished his sentence, a blue light began to swirl around the demon's feet, encircling him until his form became one with the light and disappeared into an urn that a Bringer held in his palms.

The First, still in mayor disguise, clapped his hands. "Wonderful show!" he said to the men in the circle. "And one less thing to worry about, isn't it? Now, it's about time to get the little one out of here. Sure is a pretty thing. If only she'd stop with the tears. So wet and messy."

Time for the big entrance, Buffy thought, before they got away. Though she hadn't seen her yet, she knew that Angel's little girl was waiting, just behind the First. Waiting for Buffy to help. She jumped around the corner. "Hey guys. Watcha doing?"

The six Bringers jumped to their feet, some hastily gathering supplies, others extinguishing torches along the dirt walls of the cavern. And two were running straight at Buffy. The First took a step closer. "Well, well," he said. "Look who we have here." He clapped his hands again in delight. "This should get interesting."

The Bringers wore hooded black cloaks and had no eyes, any of them, only what looked like x's and y's stitched into their skin where their eyeballs should have been. But they still seemed to know exactly where she was. Buffy moved to fighting stance, but lost all purpose quite suddenly, when the mayor moved a few feet to the right and the little girl was visible for the first time. The Bringers disappeared in that moment, and the movement in the room seemed to be happening in another place, somewhere far away from her.

She stared, green eyes wide.

"Buffy, what are they?" Spike shouted behind her. But then he saw her too. "Bloody hell," he breathed.

Sitting on the dirty cavern floor was a little girl, no more than three years old, little pink pajama-clad knees pulled tightly to her chest and her light golden hair falling in loose lovely waves around her shoulders. She was crying, quiet little sobs that could barely be heard over the commotion around her. She was the most beautiful thing Buffy had ever seen, and she felt inexplicably drawn to her. Pulled to her. But all she could do was stand and stare at the honey skin of the girl's exposed collarbone, the slender fingers on sweet small hands.

One of the cloaked men came at Buffy, brandishing a knife with a sharp edge that glinted silver in what was left of the torchlight, but she didn't move to defend herself, so transfixed was she by the sight of the little girl.

"Buffy, look out!" Spike shouted, coming to his senses and pulling her out of the way, but not before the Bringer's knife sliced into her side. The vampire threw one single powerful punch and the man fell away, unconscious. Spike roared in pain, gripping his head with both hands. "Humans!" he cried.

His shout was enough to catch the attention of the little girl, who looked up at the pair for the very first time. Her startlingly blue eyes, shiny with tears, widened and her little mouth opened in a tiny "o" of surprise that drew Buffy's attention to the soft but striking line of the girl's cheekbones. She could feel Spike beside her, knew he was staring too. The child reached out a hand to them, and in the same moment, a Bringer jerked her up and tossed her over his shoulder. The little girl turned, squirming, pounding the man's back with her little fists. She looked at Buffy and Spike with a pleading expression on her face. "Mummy!" she screamed. "Daddy! Help!"

Then the last torch was extinguished, and everything in the cavern fell into darkness.

Chapter 6

"Bloody buggerin'…not Angel's kid. That's not Angel's kid. Slayer, what the bloody fuck is going on here?"

Buffy sagged against the dirt wall, feeling the sting of her injury for the first time.

"Follow them!" she hissed in a ragged whisper, overwhelmed, suddenly, by all she had seen and experienced in the last five minutes. She pressed her hand against the tear in her jacket and tried to stop the little bit of blood she could feel pooling there. "Please, don't let them take her!"

But she could feel it—they were already alone in the cavern.

"Who the hell is she, Slayer?" He grabbed her arm. "Who is the girl?" He'd seen it, seen her, the most beautiful thing he'd ever laid eyes on. He'd felt the pull to her, the urge to protect her; hell, he'd seen his own eyes looking right back at him. But it couldn't be real. Couldn't be.

"Spike," Buffy said, trying to shrug out of her jacket, to focus on the shallow wound at her side, but she could still see the little girl in her mind, and the vision consumed her. "Spike, I can't see anything. Light a torch."

He fumbled in his coat pocket and produced a lighter. She heard movement, and then she could see again, the dim light illuminating the empty room. Even the unconscious Bringer had somehow vanished, apparently through one of several tunnels branching out from the underground room.

"Can you smell her?" Buffy asked, desperately. "Can you tell which way they went?"

Spike stalked around the tunnel entrances, breathing in deeply. Finally, he shook his head.

"Crap!" she said. "Crap!" Stop thinking, she told herself. She stripped her jacket from her shoulders and pulled it tightly around her waist to staunch the trickle of blood from her side. But her hands were shaking, violent trembles that prevented her from tying the fabric in a knot. Hers. She knew it instinctively, even if she hadn't seen that face—the nose and little rosebud mouth, the honey glow of her skin.

"Here, Slayer," Spike said, taking the jacket from her hands. "Let me." He tied the jacket arms tight around her waist. "Better?"

His face was just inches from hers as he looked up at her with a kind of confused intensity that made her Spike-tinglies go crazy. Those vibrant blue eyes. The eyes of her little girl. "Better," she breathed.

"Slayer," he said. He studied her carefully in the flickering light, looking for truth in her eyes. He touched her arm softly, cautiously, hoping she didn't feel the tremble in his own hands. "The sprog?"

She slapped him, hard, across the arm. "What did you do to me?" she whispered. Then shouted. "What the hell did you do?" She slapped him again and stomped away, ignoring the sting of her wound.

He followed her through the cavern, heading back the way they'd come. "What the bloody hell—me? What did you do? What are you playing at, Slayer? You're the one who brought me here!"

"I did NOT bring you here! You followed me!" With a running leap, she managed to hurl herself, injury and all, out of the hole that led up and out of the cavern. He could hear her tumbling into the grass. He shook his head, impressed and frustrated. With a growl, he bent down and sprung up through the hole as well, taking a roll through the grass himself, and then popping upright.

"Slayer," he growled, grabbing her and spinning her around. "What the fuck is going on?"

"You," she hissed, one fist flailing out and aiming for his face. He ducked just before she could crush his nose for the second time in 24 hours. "You…you…you knocked me up!"

"Have you gone fuckin' barmy? I did not! Don't you think I'd know it if I knocked up the soddin' Slayer? Vampires can't have kids, Buffy! Someone's playing us!"

"Oh, you haven't done it yet, but you will! What'd you do, some kind of spell to get me to…to…" she looked him up and down, "to sleep with you?"

He raised his eyebrows and looked at her as though she had well and truly lost her mind. "Oh, like I'd have to do all that!"

"What on earth are you implying, Spike?"

"Know what you want, Slayer," he said, indignant. "Can smell it every time we fight, every time you're around me. Deny it all you want, but your body isn't playing along."

She tried to walk away from him again, but once more, he latched on to her arm. "You aren't going anywhere until you tell me what this is all about."

"Let. Go. Of. Me," she spat, trying her best to turn away.

"Buffy," he said, his voice suddenly softer. Surprised by the sudden change, she allowed him to spin her around to face him. "Buffy, I…please. I saw her. I saw what you saw. I have to know what this is. Why she looks like me. Why she looks like you. Don't do this to me."

He'd used her name. Not Slayer, not pet, not luv. Not cutie. Her name. So this was it then. Him. Her. She didn't need any proof to know that the girl they'd seen in the cavern was hers. Was his. Even if it hadn't been completely obvious just by looking at her, which it had. She felt it.

"We so need to get to the Magic Box," she said.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Found him!" Xander said, striding into the Magic Box with Asher and Anya in tow. "One elusive future Watcher dude, coming right up. Found him at the Espresso Pump with a sandwich and a latte."

"I think he's broken," Anya said. "He won't respond to any of my questions. How am I supposed to know if Xander and I get married and make fat, pink, tiny people and grow old together? Oh, and money. Will we make lots of money?" She elbowed Asher in the side. "Tell me!"

"Disappearing acts aren't usually the best way to earn one's trust," Giles said flatly to the younger, well-dressed Watcher.

"My apologies," Asher said. "As discussed, it is best that the current Council not know of my presence in this time period. And I was in need of a quick pick-me-up. I did leave London in the middle of the night, after all. Calories and caffeinated goodness were just what the doctor ordered."

"Would the current Council have recognized you?" Giles asked, vaguely curious.

"Doubtful," Asher said. "I'm still at the Academy in your time. Besides that, there are only a few select members left who were part of this time period's Council."

"Interesting," Giles mused. "You know what I find even more interesting, though?"

"What's that?"

"The fact that you waltzed in here, referring to this weapon we're meant to help you seek out, never once bothering to mention that this weapon is a child. The child of a vampire, at that."

Asher's eyebrows rose, impressed. "The Watchers' Council could tell what the demon was traveling with?"

"My impression was that the Council made a very good guess, based on Sahjhan's…interest in acquiring the vampire child."

"Right…well, perhaps it's time I told you a little bit about the child. First of all, she is not a "vampire child." Such archaic terminology. She has a soul, if that's what you're wondering. She has a heartbeat. She's good, wonderful really. She is the child of a vampire, but she is somewhat of a hybrid. She has a human mother, albeit a very powerful one."

"So, then, what exactly is she?" Willow asked.

Asher looked irritated by her question. He flipped a stray dreadlock over his shoulder and pierced the witch with a dark-eyed glare. "She's a little girl. A very intelligent, very powerful little girl, one who will grow up to be the fiercest warrior the world has ever known. I'm quite fortunate to be her Watcher."

"So she's a Slayer," Anya said.

"No," Asher said.

"Then why does she need a Watcher?"

"She's more than a Slayer, more than a vampire, more than a witch. But she possesses characteristics of each. It's my duty to help her to discover her many talents, to hone her skills."

"Wow," said Tara. "She sounds amazing."

"Quite," Asher said. "Her parents are, themselves, fierce warriors. They train her, and I train her. Even the head of the Watchers' Council has a particularly vested interest in her." He lifted his chin a bit higher, looking proud. "I was hand-chosen to be her Watcher, actually, by the Council head and the girl's father. It was quite a grueling selection process."

"Huh," Willow said. "Who would have thought that Angel would be working so closely with the Council?"

Asher looked at her curiously. "He doesn't. What on earth would make you say that? This isn't Angel's child. Angel's son is an adult, and hardly in need of rescuing. Volatile guy, that one. Not to mention that the girl's actual father would knock you into next Wednesday if he heard you make that suggestion. He and Angel are extreme non-mixy things."

"Hey…you talk like us," Willow commented, tilting her head and looking at Asher suspiciously.

"I don't get it," Xander said. "Are all the vamps just slapping on souls and popping out little tykes in your time? Cause I thought, you know, being dead sort of made that kind of thing difficult."

"Has anyone else noticed that he talks like us?" Willow said again.

"Not all of them," Asher said, avoiding Willow's gaze and responding to Xander instead. "But there is more than one souled vampire where I come from. And, oddly enough, they are both fathers."

"So whose child is Buffy out rescuing?"

"You mean to tell me that you allowed…Miss Summers to go out searching for the child on her own? That's extremely dangerous."

"I think 'allow' would be a strong word choice," Giles commented drily. "If you knew Buffy at all, you'd know-"

"But I do," Asher interrupted, sighing. "I do know Buffy."

"I knew it!" Willow said. "You know all of us, don't you?"

Asher looked uncomfortable. "Well, most of you."

"I think you'd better tell us everything you know," Giles said.

"I'm going to be in so much trouble when I get back," Asher said. "It starts with a prophecy."

"Doesn't everything?" Xander quipped.

"Yes, we know." Giles looked impatient. "The prophecy about the demon Sahjhan being killed by the child of the souled vampire."

"No," Asher said. "Not that prophecy."

"Geez," Xander said. "More prophecy talk. Seems like all we ever do around here is research prophecies. And demons. And prophecies about demons. Oh, and fighting. We fight demons, too."

"Xander, that is all we do around here," Willow said. "That's kind of the point."

"Oh. Yeah. Are there still donuts?" He reached for the abandoned box in the center of the table.

"We also sell magical goods and accessories!" Anya chimed in.

"The crazy thing about this prophecy is that we've known about it for years," Asher continued, talking directly to Giles and paying no mind to the chatter around him. "You yourself are familiar with it already, I'm sure. The current Council will have been aware of it for ages. But no one recognized it as prophecy, you see. It was widely believed to be lore, a legend regarding the origin of the very first Slayer. It was never recognized as prophecy at all until our little…warrior was born and some questions were raised regarding her…unique nature."

He moved purposefully around the bookshelves, pausing in front of each shelf and looking up and down.

"Here," Giles said, pointing to a row near the bottom of one of the shelves. "You'll find First Slayer lore, rare as it is, in these volumes down here."

"Ah, yes," Asher said, carefully removing a book and blowing the dust from the cover. He opened it on the table, Giles looking over his shoulder. "It's…just here. Sumerian, but you can translate, I believe?"

"Of course." Giles leaned closer to the page and read aloud:

And the time will come

When the mystical shall prevail

At her behest

The original Slayer will be imbued

With the purest essence of the demon

With strength and power she will grow

And the world shall know its greatest warrior.

"And that's just the beginning." Asher looked up triumphantly, as though the passage itself was explanation enough. "There are books and books filled with prophecy regarding the twice-dead warriors and their offspring. It's thrilling, really."

"I'm not sure I understand," Giles said. "This is a reference to the First Slayer, not a prophecy at all. This passage is widely accepted as a reference to the creation of the First Slayer."

Asher shook his head. "Not anymore. That's the tricky thing about prophecy." He picked up the book. "The whole thing—this entire volume—was always believed to be filled with lore regarding the world's first Vampire Slayer, and let's face it, no one has really paid it too much attention because you know, the First Slayer is way dead and all. But it's actually filled with prophecy, regarding her. The child. What she is. What she'll become."

There was a loud crash as Buffy shoved the door open and stalked purposefully into the Magic Box, heedless of the tiny patch of blood seeping through the jacket around her waist. Spike was close on her heels, an unreadable expression on his pale face.

"You," she said, pointing at Asher, her voice full of venom. "I think you've got some serious explaining to do."

Chapter 7

"That the guy?" Spike asked, looking directly at the new face in the room. When she nodded, Spike sprang forward, his body a blur of movement. He pinned Asher against the wall, hand clasped around the future Watcher's neck. And then, just as quickly, the vampire was doubled over in pain, clutching at his head and cursing.

"Spike, buddy!" Asher said, clearly pleased to see the vampire, even as he rubbed at his neck. "Don't be a wanker, man." He leaned down and patted Spike's arm. "Forgot about that soddin' chip thing you've got going on now. You okay?"

"Who invited Captain Peroxide?" Xander asked. Buffy ignored him, rolling her eyes at Spike but picking up right where he'd left off, slamming Asher back into the wall. Unbidden, her eyes started to tear up.

"Why didn't you tell us?" she asked, blinking back the wetness crowding her eyes and blurring her vision. "What is she? Were we lab rats? Is the Council behind it all? Or was it a spell? Did he-" she pointed to Spike "—just want to humiliate me? What kind of trick is this? What the hell is going on?" In her frustration, she did the only thing she could think of—resort to violence. Her arm flew out, fist poised to connect with his jaw.

Asher blocked her punch easily.

Her jaw dropped in surprise. No one blocked her, at least, not like that, like he'd been expecting it. She let her left arm sail toward his face.

He blocked her again.

And again.

The room was silent, everyone, including Spike, watching Asher in shock.

"How do you do that?" Buffy asked, surprise at his impressive defensive skills temporarily overwhelming her other confused emotions.

He shrugged. "I um…I know how you fight." When she kept looking at him expectantly, he continued. "It's the same way I fight. Because you trained me."

Willow looked uncomfortable. "Okay, could someone clue the rest of us in as to what is going on now?"

"You saw her, didn't you?" Asher asked. Buffy nodded. "You shouldn't have done that. You weren't supposed to see her." He looked at Spike, still kneeling on the floor, and back to Buffy. "Are you going to help him?"

She rolled her eyes again, but held out a hand to Spike. He reluctantly took it and stood. He began to pace around the room, clenching and unclenching his fists. "It's a bloody cruel trick, isn't it? Why do a thing like that to a bloke? It's not even possible!" The expression on his face was frightening, but he refrained from trying to hit the future Watcher again. For now, anyway.

"I think you two might want to sit," Asher said, warily.

"Don't tell me what to do," Spike snarled. Buffy just stared at Asher, waiting impatiently for answers.

"It was a spell," Asher said, finally.

"I knew it!" Buffy shouted at Spike. "You jerk! You tricked me!"

"Oi! I did not!"

"He didn't. It was a spell. That is to say, she couldn't have been conceived without it. But the spell was a gift, a surprise anniversary gift, from a very talented witch." He looked pointedly at Willow, who felt herself blushing. "It was something you both wanted. Very, very much. You just never thought you'd have it."

Spike and Buffy looked at each other, both wide-eyed and horrified.

"Anniversary gift?" Buffy sputtered. "We…we…we're married?"

"We are not!" Spike growled. "I don't know who you are, but you're…you're…absolutely off your fuckin' rocker!"

Xander stood up. "Wait a minute. Wait a minute. You're not telling us that Spike is the souled vampire, are you? No way. No way on earth. No way."

Asher nodded.

"I do not have a soul!" Spike shouted, grabbing a crystal ball from its place on a nearby shelf and hurling it across the room. It felt good, made him want to throw other things, to fight his way through this confusion. "You are a lying, barmy, no-good wanker, is what you are! Don't know what I'm doing here, listening to this soddin' nonsense." He made for the door and his hand was wrapped around the knob when he heard her voice, so quiet, but still so loud in the suddenly silent space.

"Spike, please," Buffy said. "Please don't leave." She didn't know why she said it, why she wanted him there with her, except that he had seen the child, their child, and he was the only other person besides Asher who had lain eyes on her, who knew it was true.

He spun around, coat billowing with the force of the about-face, and looked the Watcher in the eye. "You'd better start making some sense real soon, mate. Or I'll be willin' to risk the headache." He sat down on the step with a huff.

Giles removed his glasses, rubbed at the lenses furiously, and then cleared his throat. "Asher, do you mean that you expect us to believe that Buffy and Spike are…are…" he paused, unable to say the word.

"Married?" Willow squeaked.

Asher nodded.

"That…that…" Giles began to sputter. "That's simply preposterous!"

The future Watcher's mouth curved into a small smile. "You said you'd say that."

"We know each other as well, then, in your time?"

Asher sighed. "Christ, I'm going to be in so much trouble. You are going to absolutely murder me when I get back, that is, assuming my being here doesn't turn the future all wonky and put me back in a future that doesn't…er…match anymore." He looked helplessly at Giles. "You didn't tell me you'd be so…obstinate, though I guess I should have expected as much." He sighed again, resigned, and muttered, "You're my boss. You are the head of the Watchers' Council."

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Okay, okay," Buffy said, now pacing across the room herself. "Let's start at the beginning. Spike and I are a…" she swallowed. "A couple?"

"Buffy, please listen to me. It is quite imperative that if we want the world to remain as it is in my time, and I can assure you that we do, then I simply cannot divulge too much information about what is to come. Too much information could muck it all up and quite literally prevent her from ever existing."

"Spike and I are a couple," she repeated, unable to hide the look of utter revulsion on her face.

"Yes."

"And I'm head of the Watchers' Council," Giles mused, completely lost in his own fantasies. "Who'd have ever imagined?"

"This guy is a fraud!" Xander said, practically leaping from the table. Anya reached up and pulled him back down. "There is no way they're together. There's no way they have a kid."

"You didn't see her," Buffy said, revulsion suddenly gone, replaced with a look of absolute wonder. "She's amazing. She looks just like us. I could feel that she was ours."

Spike nodded.

"But Buffy, why? He's a monster."

"Sitting right here, mate," Spike said, but his voice had lost its hard edge and he just sounded tired and frustrated.

"I don't know why, Xander," she replied, a newfound edge in her voice. She looked at Asher. "Why?"

He coughed. "In my time, Spike is a champion. He has a soul. He's saved you, and the world, more times than I can count. He fights alongside you. The two of you train new Slayers. You do amazing things together."

"So I'm not dead, then?" she asked.

"No, of course not."

"You're lyin'," Spike said slowly, dangerously. "About it all. You're right," he nodded to Xander. "Wanker's a fraud."

Asher looked at Spike indignantly. "You're the one who is acting like a wanker, mate. Should have known—you did tell me you'd be the hardest to convince."

"Oh yeah? Why's that?"

The future Watcher looked around the room, thumb rubbing his silver pocket watch. He hesitated to say the words his friend Spike had told him.

"Well, go on then," Spike prodded.

"You told me that there is no way you'd have ever believed you'd get so damned lucky."

Buffy looked at Spike in surprise. "Pfft," he said, hanging his head. If a vampire could blush, he would have been all pink and rosy-cheeked. He growled at himself.

Asher cleared his throat. "Where did you find her? I assume you were unable to get her back?"

"Obviously. It was underground, at the old Christmas tree lot. The locator spell worked. And now we know why."

"Okay," he said. "We need a plan. There isn't much time left to find her. When will the current Council be back here?"

"Morning," Giles replied, distracted. Head of the Watchers' Council.

"Okay. We need to have her by morning, then. I don't think we want to find out what our friend Mr. Travers would do with a vampire-human hybrid."

"He won't find her," Buffy and Spike said in unison. All eyes in the room, except Asher's, went wide with shock and horror.

"They do that a lot," he said.

Giles spoke up, finally rejoining the conversation. "Asher…what were you telling me earlier, about the prophecy?"

"Oh, yes. Well, as I'm sure you now realize, the prophecy is about Buffy and Spike. The original Slayer is mystically imbued with the essence of the demon." Buffy's cheeks flamed red. "The result of their union, their firstborn, is the warrior of the people. The greatest warrior the world has ever known. That's her," Asher said to Buffy and Spike.

"But she's just a little girl…" Buffy whispered.

"And why would Buffy be referred to as the original Slayer?" Giles asked.

"Because that's what we call her. Now." He shifted uncomfortably. "Let's just say that a lot of things change between your now and, uh…my now, and being a Slayer isn't as rare as it used to be."

"Huh?" Buffy asked.

"That's…one of the things I probably shouldn't share, Buffy. Please understand."

"So there are lots of Slayers, I'm married to a vampire, and we've got a hybrid warrior child. Glad to know my life finally takes that turn for the normal."

"Well, it is quite normal, actually, considering," Asher said.

"We're wasting time," Giles said. "Asher's right—we need a plan."

Buffy took a deep breath and tried to delegate. "Willow and Tara—we need another locator spell. Find her as quickly as possible. We've got to get her away from the First and to safety before Travers can get his hands on…on…my child." Her voice cracked. "I'm sorry…I think I maybe just need a minute here. I'm gonna…I'm gonna…" She disappeared into the training room, closing the door behind her.

Spike watched her go, the tear tracks on his pale face unnoticed by anyone except Tara, who watched him compassionately.

"Spike," Xander said. "I don't care what this guy says. You don't seriously believe Buff would ever love you, do you? You might have confused her enough to knock her up, make this vampire-baby-thing, but she would never love a thing like you. You aren't part of this group. I think it's time for you to go. Don't let the door hit you on the way out."

Anya slugged him in the arm. "Xander!"

Asher surprised Xander by taking a threatening step toward him. "None of that," he said, using every inch of his tall, muscular frame to intimidate Xander. For the first time, the future Watcher looked truly frightening.

"You're friends with him!" Xander said, suddenly. "If you're friends with Bleach Boy over there, you really can't be trusted, truth spell or not."

"Eat your words, Xander Harris," Asher said, through gritted teeth, and Xander actually cowered. "In my time, you're friends with him too."

The expression on Spike's face was dangerous as well. "If any of you lot think I'm going anywhere until we have a plan to get the girl, you're barmier than I thought. There's not a soddin' thing you can do to make me leave here 'til I'm good and ready. That's my sprog, too."

"I, um," Giles cleared his throat. "Much as it pains me to say it, Spike's right. He has as much of a…uh…vested interest in this matter as Buffy does."

The tension in the room seemed to settle as Spike let his head fall between his hands, the fight suddenly leaving him. He felt drained, confused. Asher turned away from Xander, and Xander's surprised eyes darted to Spike 's slumped form, and then away.

Friends?

Chapter 8

Since the day Giles and the gang had completed the training room for her, Buffy had always thought of the room as a safe haven, the punching bags comforting, the weapons soothing. But for the first time since she'd been called as a Slayer, she didn't feel like using her fists to work out her frustrations. She didn't feel like hitting anything, didn't feel like throwing knives, didn't feel like doing aerobics or meditating. She felt like curling up in a ball and waiting for her conflicting emotions to sort themselves out. She was utterly exhausted, her brain on information overload. She believed Asher—why wouldn't she at this point? Truth spell, hello. Besides, she'd seen the little girl with her own eyes, hadn't she?

But still…disbelief. She was supposed to have a short Slayer shelf-life. She hadn't been happy when Asher had implied that she would be dead eight years in the future, but she hadn't been surprised, either. That's how it was supposed to happen. She would fight, and eventually, she would die. She wouldn't get married, wouldn't have children of her own. It just wasn't part of the Slayer package.

Except it was. For her.

She would have a child. She would be married.

But to Spike? The pain in her ass? The thorn in her side? The evil, soulless vampire who had killed two of her kind? There's no way anyone could have made her believe it, if she hadn't seen the proof of their union with her own two eyes.

Future Buffy and Spike loved each other, so much, apparently, that they'd been willing to resort to mystical means to create a child together.

Spike's shocking blue eyes, his cheekbones. Her own golden skin, hair the color hers had been when she'd been young. Beautiful, God, the most beautiful, most amazing thing she'd ever seen in her life. Hers.

Theirs. She couldn't help it—seeing their daughter had made her hate him a little less.

She heard the door open and close softly.

"Buffy?" Asher's voice, rich but tentative, made her wipe furiously at her eyes before turning to face him. She hadn't realized she'd been crying.

"Buffy, I realize this is all rather crazy and I'm sure quite shocking to you right now, and there isn't much more I can say, but, well, I guess I just hoped to maybe…help? Somehow?"

"Are we happy?" she asked.

"Pardon?"

"Spi—Spike and me? Are we happy together?" She cringed at the hope in her voice. Stupid Slayer.

Asher rolled his eyes. "Oh, yeah. Nauseatingly so. The two of you make us all…quite jealous."

She let out a breath she didn't realize she'd been holding and was quiet for a moment, thinking this over. Somewhere in the future, she was happy.

Asher watched the Slayer. She was so different from the Buffy he knew. This Slayer looked older, weary. This Slayer looked like she carried the weight of the world on her shoulders, all by herself. His stomach had been in a hard knot, worried about all of this information he shouldn't be providing, but was anyway. In for a penny, in for a pound, he supposed. But even if he were to tell her everything, he knew he wouldn't be able to make her truly believe just how much things would change. The Buffy he knew was confident and content. Bad things still happened, but she had an entire army of Slayers at her command, she had a husband who was crazy about her (and, who, much to the embarrassment of others, couldn't seem to keep his hands off her), and she had a strong little girl who adored her. The Buffy he knew was full of life and laughter and happiness.

"He loves you," Asher said.

"In the future."

"And now."

She looked at him with raised eyebrows, but he looked certain. "He can't love. He doesn't have a soul. He hates me. We hate each other."

"Trust me," he said.

"You really are friends with him, aren't you?"

"And you. Where I come from, he's a good man, Buffy. He will be. You'll help him to become that. You'll see the good in him. The two of you are perfectly matched. It will all come together, in time."

She fought back her sarcastic response, and fell silent again, lost in her own conflicted mind.

"I'm a bad mother, aren't I? A Slayer shouldn't have kids. I couldn't protect her, or she wouldn't be here, in my time. They wouldn't have gotten to her, if I'd been better."

"Not at all," Asher said, hesitantly laying a hand on her shoulder. His voice was so soothing. She could easily imagine them being friends in the future. "You're a wonderful mum. You didn't fail her…the bad guy got to her, in spite of all of our best efforts. The whole Slayer Academy, and me, and Giles, and your friends, and your husband…we are all responsible for her protection. You should see the mystical barriers Willow has put up around her. And you know, alarm systems, too, the good old-fashioned kind. No one has ever gotten through before. It was the middle of the night, Buffy. It's scary, but it is not your fault."

"And she's a prophecy girl, like me," Buffy continued. "I don't want my daughter to have to fulfill some kind of terrifying destiny. She should make her own choices. I don't want another stupid prophecy telling us all what we have to do!" Her eyes were watery again, damnit. She thought back to the Master, and how afraid she'd been that night, knowing she was on her way to her death. Believing she didn't have a choice.

"She's strong, Buffy. You make her that way. Spike makes her that way. With parents like you, she'd fight the good fight anyway, you know that, right? She's just fortunate enough to have strength, and power, and magic on her side. She's amazing, Buffy. Because of you."

"Uggh!" Buffy stomped her feet, looking childlike herself. "I'm not ready for all of this."

"You know, you don't really have to help with this rescue," Asher said after a moment. Buffy looked at him like he had grown a second head. "I will need the assistance of your friends, the witches particularly, to get her back…but it's a lot for you to deal with, right now. I understand if you want to bow out, let me take care of it. She is my responsibility, after all. It's what I was sent here to do."

"You think I'm just going to sit on the sidelines while my…my daughter is out there, with the bad guys? No way."

He sighed. "I knew you would say that.

"What would they do with her?" she asked. "The Bringers? The First?"

"Turn her against you. We fear that they would take her to the dark priest of the First, to be taught by him. The First would wear your face, and Spike's as well, and it would trick her into believing that evil is what you want her to become. She would be a corporeal extension of the First. She would lead the Bringers. They would fight at her command."

"But she's just a child."

"Yes. Young, impressionable. And someone you'd never, ever hurt. You knew, the moment you saw her, didn't you? That she's yours? That she belongs to you?"

Buffy nodded.

"It's okay for this to be crazy-strange to you, for you to feel the way you do about Spike now. Things will happen to change all of that, but those things haven't happened yet. All in good time. Right now, the most important thing we can do is to get her back where she belongs."

"What if we don't find her?" Buffy asked.

"We will. We have to."

She nodded again. "Okay, I'm okay now. Let's go figure this thing out."

She opened the door to the training room, only to see Riley walking through the door to the Magic Box. "Hey guys," he said casually, checking out the somber faces around the room. "What's up?"

Spike groaned. "Great. Perfect timing, Iowa." He turned to the Scoobies. "Well, it's been nice knowing you all. Wait, no it hasn't." His head was too full of thoughts right now for him to give Riley the snark he deserved. How Spike would love to deliver the lines himself, let White Bread know that not only would he be unable to hold onto his woman, but that Spike himself would have her, would be married to her and would be inside her, would put a baby in her. That they would create a miracle. The whole idea of it made him want to turn all poncy William and run home and write about it in his journal. Or drink. He could really use a drink.

"Spike," Riley said, unable to disguise the hate in his voice. "What are you doing here?"

"Guess I'll be gettin' staked good and proper, then," Spike mumbled. "Undo the whole mess, right?"

Everyone in the room looked around uncomfortably. Giles finally spoke. "Riley, this is Asher Pritchett. He's a…Watcher, of sorts."

"Hello," Riley said, warily, picking up on the tension in the room.

Asher looked him up and down with a smirk, mirth in his dark eyes. "Captain Cardboard in the flesh," he muttered quietly. Spike snorted, and the two shared a bemused look.

"Riley." Buffy felt suddenly queasy. How had she managed to completely forget about Riley? How on earth could she explain this to him? She was still processing it all herself. She was surprised to feel a sudden desire to talk…to Spike. Alone. About…things. About her. But she couldn't, not yet. She had to deal with her boyfriend. She was startled to realize, then, fully realize, that Riley would not be part of her future. Sure, her feelings for him didn't run as deep as she'd wished, but she'd still given a future with him a fair amount of thought. A normal man, a normal life. Her eyes slid to Spike. She'd choose him. Why? And how could she give Riley the rundown on everything right now?

Giles cleared his throat. "Maybe Riley and I should talk…alone? In the training room, perhaps?"

"Buffy, what's going on?"

She nodded, relieved, and so grateful to Giles for taking over. "That would be a good idea."

"Uh…okay. Sure," Riley said, looking around the room. No one would meet his gaze, no one except for Buffy, and he couldn't read the wide-eyed expression on her face.

Giles and Riley disappeared into the training room and Buffy sighed audibly. "That's not going to go well," she said.

"Yeah, I've heard that being told about your girlfriend's future vampire baby can really do great things for a relationship," Xander said.

"Really?" Anya asked. "Because I would think it would be the opposite…oh, wait, that was sarcasm, right?" She looked around. Willow nodded vigorously.

"Bugger this," Spike said, standing up. "Can't sit around and wait for the big goon to come rushin' at me with a stake." He looked at Buffy. "You'll find me when it's time to rescue the girl?" She nodded, wanting to say so many things, but not here, not now. She latched on to the two words at the end of his sentence, and turned her attention back to Asher. The girl.

"What's her name?" she asked.

"Pardon?"

"Her name? What…what is it?" She tried to think of what they would have named her, of names she liked. Emily? Joan? Sarah? Spike stopped, head tilted to the side, obviously interested in hearing the answer as well.

"It's…" Asher panicked, uncertain as to whether or not it was safe to share the information.

"Jesus Christ, man, you've told us everything else already!" Xander exclaimed. "You might as well just spill!"

Asher looked resigned. "It's…Eden. Her name is Eden."

"Oh, bollucks," Spike said, rolling his eyes. "Who thought that was a good name? Had to have been your choice."

"It was not me!" she said. "I'm not religious! We…we're not religious, are we?" she asked Asher.

He chuckled. "It was Spike. He picked it."

"Oi! I did not!"

Asher nodded. "You did." He looked around, uncomfortable, as though he wanted to share more, but not with everyone else listening in. "I'll follow you out, shall I?"

Spike opened his mouth as though he might object, but thought better of it and nodded instead. He swirled around with a flourish of his leather coat, and stalked out the door, Asher behind him.

The second the door closed, Buffy followed them.

"Buffy, should you really-"

Buffy held up a silencing hand as she pulled the door open just wide enough to hear the conversation. The two men had rounded the corner nearest the shop's door, so she was in no danger of being seen. People meandered along the sidewalk, not a lot, but hopefully enough that Spike wouldn't' be able to pick up on her heartbeat in the melee.

"Eden," Spike said slowly, not with the snark Buffy expected. Instead, he sounded sort of...emotional.

"It was something you said. When Buffy was pregnant. About how paradise couldn't be any better."

"And then I came up with Eden. How very poetic of me."

"She loved it too. The name."

"You're not afraid of me," Spike commented.

"No. Although you can be very intimidating when you want."

"Thanks, mate."

"For example, right now, in my time, you're not terribly happy with me."

Spike snorted. "No shit. Probably worried sick about the lil' one, yeah?"

"Yes."

"It's just not possible," Spike said. "That a girl like the Slayer could ever love a thing like me. How does it happen?"

"I don't know," Asher said. "You two were together by the time I met you. You always joke about you two being sworn enemies, but I never realized the…um…depths of that sentiment. I just know that it does happen." After a pause, he continued. "Do you know that Slayers' bodies are built to fight vamps, even from the inside? It wasn't an easy pregnancy for her. But she was determined to have your baby. She loves you. Fiercely."

Buffy drew in a deep breath. She loved Spike. Fiercely.

"So we're…happy together?" Spike asked. "She's happy…with me?"

"Yeah, you are. Both of you."

"And I'm a white hat? All souled up?"

"You are."

"And I'm okay with that?"

"You're very okay with it."

"Bloody hell," he muttered, shaking his head. There was silence for a moment, and before Buffy realized that Spike had left, Asher rounded the corner and pushed the door open. Right into Buffy.

"Ouch!" she said.

"Sorry," he said. "You listened, then?"

She nodded, and he sighed for what must have been the fiftieth time that night. "Why am I even surprised?"

Chapter 9

"What I don't understand," said Anya, "is if Future Buffy and Future Spike are so worried about their daughter, why didn't they come back in time to rescue her?"

Xander replied before Asher had the opportunity. "Oh! I know this! Your future self can't interact with your past self. It…messes with the fabric of time, or causes the universe to implode, or something. Right?"

Asher chuckled. "Well, we don't actually know, but yes, theoretically, it could be disastrous. So, being Eden's Watcher and an adequate fighter, the group sent me instead. It's not likely I'm going to run into myself, since I'm in England right now in your time. And they...you all…well, they trust me to bring her back safely."

"And you will," Buffy said, suddenly all business. "Where are we on the locator spell?"

Willow frowned. "Well, we're working on it, but we can't seem to find her."

"You can't find her?" Buffy was suddenly terrified that seeing her daughter, ahead of her time, really had made her go all non-existent. The fear must have been evident on her face, because Asher chimed in.

"They probably did a cloaking spell on her, after you found her so quickly the first time. If she didn't exist anymore, I wouldn't still be here. I don't think. It could also be possible that they've already left Sunnydale with her, although I would expect them to gather more Bringers before they attempt to travel with her. Any number of things could be after her, once word gets around of her parentage, so I would expect them to round up as many Bringers as possible before moving her."

"Where would they take her?" Buffy asked.

"To Caleb, the priest of the First. The problem is, we don't know where he is right now, in this time. The Southeastern US is our best guess. So, it's definitely important that the Bringers do not leave town with her, or finding her could get a lot more difficult."

"Okay…" Buffy said. "So how do we find her, then?"

"We can break through the cloaking spell," Willow answered. "But it will take a little while. Hour and a half, maybe? Two hours?"

"Buffy, it's been quite a day for you. Why don't you go home, grab a bite to eat, get a change of clothes, then meet us back here?" Asher suggested. Buffy looked down at her torn shirt and jacket, both crusted with dried blood. "We can't do anything more until we break through the cloaking spell."

She shrugged. "I should wait here until it's done, so we can go after her."

"There's time, really," Willow assured. "I...you...well, you look like you could use a break."

Buffy did feel like getting out of the Magic Box. She was exhausted, mentally and physically. The shallow wound on her side seemed to have healed, but it wouldn't hurt to clean it up a bit, to get out of these dirty clothes. Maybe some time alone would help her focus her thoughts. And then she remembered Riley. "I should wait and talk to him," she said.

Giles was coming out of the training room as she spoke. "I…don't think that's the best idea right now," he said. "Riley, um…left, out the back, actually. He was quite upset. Said he needed some time to think things over. I didn't…well, I didn't leave anything out of the story. I hope you aren't angry with me."

Her eyes watered, imagining Riley's hurt. "He just…left?"

Giles removed his glasses and rubbed at his eyes. "I think it is a bit shocking for him…for all of us, actually."

"Is Spike…is he…safe? From Riley?" Her cheeks were burning hot. She couldn't believe she was asking.

Giles seemed surprised too. "He should be. As far as I know, Riley believes Spike to be here still, with us. To be quite honest, Buffy, I think you'll be more…focused without Riley's assistance in this particular task."

"You're right," she said, quietly. "I think I will get out of here for a while. I'll be back in an hour or two. You'll call me if you locate her before I'm back, right?"

The witches nodded.

"Okay." She looked at Asher. "Don't you dare go after her without me."

"Promise," he said.

With that, she turned on her boot heel and left the Magic Box.

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She should have gone home to clean herself up. Or gone to find Riley, to at least try and explain things to him.

She found herself outside of Spike's crypt instead.

It was wrong to be here, now, to go to him in this emotionally volatile state. All kinds of bad could happen. She knew it, but she couldn't walk away.

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He was sprawled in his chair, an almost-empty bottle of Jack Daniels clutched in his hand. It was a natural response, the alcohol. What else was a vamp to do? It wasn't like he was really going to let poncy William take over, to jot down his nancy-boy thoughts on paper. Still, he had so many thoughts, so many feelings that he didn't know what to do with. He'd just been told that somewhere down the line, at some point not too far away (especially for a vampire), he'd have everything he'd ever wanted.

A child? It should have been impossible. As a human, it was all he'd ever wanted –a comfortable house filled with little ones and a wife who would return some fraction of his love. William would have been ecstatic. And Spike? Well, he felt more like William than ever before. Eight years would pass by like minutes to someone who'd been around as long as he had, and then he would find himself with a little girl who was undeniably his—he thought of those sparkling blue eyes—his eyes! Innocent like he used to be, over a hundred years ago. And his lovely, deadly Slayer would be his wife. Wife. His dead heart felt like a balloon, so full it would surely burst.

It was too much to hope for. It couldn't be real.

He could hear her outside of his crypt, her heartbeat racing, could smell her. Vanilla and coconut. And fear. She was afraid. Would she come in?

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So many times she'd kicked or slammed her way into his crypt, and now she was suddenly hesitant with all of this newfound knowledge. Did she knock? Burst in like always? She ran her hand along the wooden door, getting herself a splinter for her troubles, before finally easing the door open.

The room was quiet, no tv, no music. Just Spike, staring at her. He didn't speak, no sarcastic comments, no snark. He didn't say a word at all, just sat there, watching her with curiously bloodshot eyes.

"Um, hi," she said.

"They find her?" he asked. It wasn't what he wanted to say. He wanted to say a thousand things, a thousand wonderful and terrifying things. But for once in his unlife, he held his tongue.

"No," she said. "Not yet. They will though." She hovered in his doorway.

"Why are you here, Slayer?"

"I don't know," she said, honestly. "I thought maybe we needed to…talk, or something?"

"Why?" he asked. "Does this change anything for you? I'm still a monster, yeah? Evil, disgusting, dead thing?"

"Yes. But…" she faltered. "You saw her, didn't you? What we did? What we made?"

He was silent as he sat down the glass bottle and stood, watching her warily. "You're bleeding, pet." He reached for the finger with the splinter embedded in the skin, but she jerked her hand away.

"You did. You saw her. I know you did." She was suddenly angry. She shoved him, nowhere near as hard as she could. In that moment, she didn't feel much like a Slayer…just a very confused girl. He didn't even fall, couldn't even have the decency to stumble. "Say it. Say that you saw her!"

"Of course I saw her!" he shouted, grabbing her by the arms and pushing her against the wall of the crypt. He was dimly aware that his chip didn't fire. Hadn't hurt her, then. Scared her, maybe, by her startled expression.

"So…what?" she said in a small voice, confused and oddly hurt that he seemed so…upset by the prospect of their child. She was the one who should be upset. "You don't think she's…I mean, you don't…it's me, isn't it? The thought of being with me is…gross to you?" She felt her eyes well up with tears and she really could not believe that she was so emotional about the idea of Spike not wanting her. She hated herself for it, for showing him this weakness.

Spike looked dumbfounded. And angry. And confused. Just like her. "Been on this planet more than a hundred years, Slayer," he said, his face just inches from hers, hands still holding her against the crypt wall. He was no longer shouting, but talking in a low, frightening voice. "And I've never, ever, seen anything better, anything more amazing than her. You think you're disgusting to me? That's the silliest thing I've ever heard come out of your stupid, sexy little mouth." He looked at her, and she could see the awe in his eyes. The disbelief. The lust. And then her hands were on his shirt and she was pulling him to her, and his mouth was crashing against hers.

"Spi—oh…" her voice was lost in the kiss. He was the only one in the world who could possible understand what she felt right now. Only him. All of the craziness, all of the confusion, all of this madness—she couldn't help but pour it all into the kiss. A voice in her head reminded her that this was wrong, really really wrong and that she should stop it right now. There was Riley to think of. But she couldn't ignore the other voice in her head, the one that said that all of this was going to happen anyway, so why fight it? Was it wrong if, somewhere in the future, this vampire was her husband? She threw her arms around his neck, her fingers in his hair, pulling him closer to her.

It was more incredible than she'd ever imagined, and she had imagined it before, though she'd never admit it to anyone but herself (and even that was really difficult). At night, alone in her bed, in the dark. She'd imagined what his lips might feel like against hers. Against other parts of her body. So much power there, in his lips, in his hands around her waist, in his body suddenly flush against hers. Power that matched her own.

"You're…bad," she panted against him, as his lips left hers and frantically trailed the line of her ear, jawbone, neck.

"Yeah," he said, his voice a rumble against her ear.

"This is…wrong," she breathed, her hands gripping the hard muscles of his arms to pull him closer. Closer, closer, closer.

"Probably." But he didn't stop, and she didn't ask him to. Instead, she found his mouth with her own and let his tongue slide against her bottom lip, felt it sink into the heat of her mouth. His mouth was cool, smoky. His teeth scraped against her bottom lip, bit down intentionally, and she couldn't hold back a moan of pure pleasure.

It would end any second, he thought. The Slayer would come to her senses, push him off of her, away from her. Probably let her fists do some talking for her before she ran out on him. As it should be. And yet, now that it had begun, he couldn't stop touching her. He felt desperate. He couldn't remember ever needing someone like this before, not even Dru, and certainly not Harmony. He sincerely hoped Harmony didn't waltz in here in the middle of this and thoroughly botch things up. He didn't even know what this was, what was happening here, only that he hoped it didn't stop. He thought of moving her to the lower level of the crypt, of sliding the Slayer onto satin sheets. But it wasn't right, when he'd been there with Harmony so many times before.

He'd been wrong, too, in thinking that Harmony was anything at all like his slayer. He'd never be able to pretend otherwise again. Just sinking into the heat of her mouth, her hot frantic hands pulling him at him, holding onto his arms. So alive. More than he could ever have expected. More than he deserved.

His hands were all over her, in her hair then on her hips, then forcing open the knotted jacket at her waist, peeling her bloodstained shirt over her head, skimming his fingertips lightly over the wound that was already scabbed over and healing. Then he was sinking to his knees, his kisses trailing away from her lips, down her neck, to her chest. He nuzzled his head between her breasts, breathing heavily even though she knew he didn't need to.

She was suddenly uncomfortably aware of her pink cotton bra, years old and fraying around the cups. Definitely not her sexiest choice. Of course, at the start of this very long day, this particular activity, with this particular vampire, was the absolute last thing she'd have imagined. "Buffy," he whispered, eyes feasting on her exposed skin. His eyes met hers, and the expression on his face was one of complete wonder. "Beautiful, beautiful Buffy." It was too much for her to take. She felt breathless. It was wrong, so wrong, all of this, and yet…this whole thing was starting to feel both surreal and inevitable at the same time, which was to say that fighting it would be futile. Not to mention that now that his hands were on her, fighting it was the absolute last thing she wanted to do.

She was starting to see how a future version of herself could love him.

She certainly wanted him.

He circled his arms around her and unhooked her bra in one swift motion and then his lips and hands were on her breasts, teeth latching onto one nipple and she gasped and let her eyelids flicker closed. She could feel the wetness between her thighs. God, had she ever been so aroused? She fell to her knees, level with him. He studied her face, then kissed her hard, rough, and she was reminded again of all the power wound in his body. That he wasn't a man.

But in that moment, he was more.

Riley walked with purpose toward Spike's crypt. He had a really bad feeling about this, but he had to find Buffy.

Sure, he'd reacted poorly to the news that somewhere in the future, Buffy and that disgusting vampire had a child together. He'd gone straight to Willy's, had a few beers, spent some time considering the vampire girl who'd been flirting with him. What was it Buffy saw in these vamp men, anyway? Evil, ugly creatures.

But maybe he'd jumped to conclusions. He'd never had any faith in prophecy, anyways. Prophecies weren't science. More like…speculation. Sometimes misguided speculation, at that. Who knew if this thing was even true? Sure, Giles said that Buffy had seen the girl, but really, a little girl could belong to anybody, right? She probably wasn't Buffy's at all. In fact, this time travel thing seemed really fishy in itself. Maybe some bad guys out there were playing them. The more he thought about it, the more it seemed like that must be the case.

But if it was, he needed to warn Buffy that it was a trap of some sort, that this future Watcher guy couldn't be trusted. He had to help them. That's what he was supposed to do, right? So he'd burst into the Magic Box, but all he'd found was the Scoobie gang—Willow and Tara doing some kind of spell to try and find the girl they were looking for, Xander eating crumbs from the donut box, and Anya grilling the "Watcher" about the future while the guy completely ignored her.

"Where's Buffy?" he'd asked, noticing that Spike was gone as well. They all looked up at him in surprise. In...pity?

"She's with him, isn't she?" He couldn't explain why he'd jumped to that conclusion, only that it was his greatest fear. He'd felt his face burning, felt his limbs suddenly humming with pent-up rage.

"Riley," Giles had said, carefully. "She's gone home for a bit. She was wounded earlier. She's fine, but she went home—alone—for a change of clothes."

And so he hadn't bothered warning the rest of the gang that this time travel thing didn't feel right, because seeing Buffy had become more important. She wouldn't be with Spike. She wouldn't. But he'd needed to see that she wasn't with the vampire, needed to see her with his own two eyes. Because, if she seriously believed that she and Spike had a child together, if she seriously believed that she was married to that thing...well, he'd just needed to find her, to talk some sense into her.

So he'd gone to her house. But she wasn't there. Joyce and Dawn must have been out too, because even though he had a key to let himself in, he'd found the place empty.

He'd known where he had to go.

There was no way she'd be at Spike's crypt, and if she was, she was probably just beating him up for information, or because she found out that Spike was somehow the mastermind of this whole time travel craziness. Probably she was already back at the Magic Box by now and they'd just missed each other. Still, he didn't turn back. He'd never admit it to her, had a hard enough time admitting it to himself, but something about Spike as a figure in Buffy's life had always bothered him. He knew she said she was disgusted by the vamp, but something about Spike and Buffy together had always made him feel…insecure. Not that Buffy would ever want a vampire over him. Except she did have a history with Angel. And there was that thing with Dracula not too long ago.

His worst fears were confirmed as he reached the door of the crypt.

Really? There was no way she was with Spike, not like this. Not this fast. Not when she and Riley had a commitment, they had a relationship, they were in love. Weren't they?

But even through the thick stone of the crypt walls and the heavy wooden door, he could hear them.

Moans, gasps. And the worst sound he'd ever heard in his life—his Buffy crying out the name of the vampire he hated. There was no mistaking it. That was his Buffy, with that creature. And she was crying out for him. Riley had never heard her voice sound so urgent, so passionate. And she'd certainly never spoken his name like that.

At that moment, he wanted so badly to burst through the door, interrupt whatever the hell was going on in there, and stake the vampire. How he'd smile in satisfaction as Spike exploded into a thousand tiny dust particles. Obviously, Buffy had been led astray by this ridiculous lie about a little girl from the future, but as soon as Spike was dead, she'd see that Riley had done the right thing, that it was all for the best. He would save her from this, this darkness. This evil. She would be grateful for his help. He would forgive her for her transgression, of course, and this moment of complete insanity could be forgotten and never, ever mentioned again.

And so he would have done it, would have rushed right in to save the day, if it weren't for one little thing.

He knew it wasn't true.

Buffy might be out of her mind right now, hell, she might be under some kind of spell for all he knew. But that didn't change the one fact that Riley had tried and tried to ignore. Buffy had feelings for the vampire. She loved Spike. It hadn't started tonight. It made his heart ache and his body tremble with disgust just to think of it, but he'd always known it. Somewhere, deep inside, he'd always known there was something between them. God knows she'd never admit it, but he could feel it. It was there.

Which meant, of course, that she couldn't possibly love him.

Repulsed and very clearly rejected, he turned away from the crypt. He didn't have the guts to rush in, to catch them in this moment, to see the truth of it. Her naked body, wrapped around the vamp...no. Let them have each other. The Slayer and her vampire.

He should have gone home, should have tried to figure out what to do next. Instead, he headed back to Willy's.

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It was wrong and Buffy knew it. Really wrong, and she would tell him to stop, really. Any minute now she would. Any minute...

His mouth on hers, Spike slid her down onto the hard floor, unbuttoning her jeans without ending the kiss. Her breasts rubbed against the soft cotton of his t-shirt, and she realized that she was about to be the only one completely unclothed. So she grabbed onto his shirt with both hands, and, losing patience, ripped it cleanly in two. "Oh God," she panted, when he pulled away and looked at her in amazement. She should be embarrassed. She should apologize. But then his eyes were smoldering into hers and his lips were crushing hers again. He shrugged out of the remains of his shirt, and she gasped when his naked torso pressed against her.

"Spike," she breathed. It was too fast, too fast, but God, who cared? This was more than lust, more than want. She needed him. Desperately.

"Buffy," he hissed. "Oh God, Buffy…so long…so much…" She could hardly make out the words as his mouth traveled the length of her body. His hands pushed her jeans down and then his mouth was against her panty-clad pussy, breathing against her, breathing her in. Her hands curled into his platinum hair.

She was amazing. He could smell her arousal as he forced her jeans over her calves, ankles. Gray cotton panties, so sweet, and he could see the pool of wetness against the fabric. He was going to lose it before he even touched her there. His hand trembled as his fingers slid slowly, reverently, across the fabric. Watched the wetness spread. He tugged her panties down and was assaulted by the sweet smell of her, unclothed. It was too much, and not enough. He needed all of her. "So beautiful," he murmured. He finally grazed her pussy lips with the tips of his fingers and, when she moaned and squirmed underneath him, let his fingers travel to her opening. "So wet," he said. "So perfect." He sank a finger in and listened to her heavy breathing, the frantic whisper of his name on her tongue. He added another finger and pulsed them in and out as she bucked against his hand.

Oh God, oh God, she thought. So bad, so really really bad and so good. She was letting Spike touch her. The vampire who was nothing to her except a pain in the ass. Except…Asher had called him her perfect match. And the soft voice in her head was soothing her again with those words, those crazy words that weren't supposed to be for her. Husband. Family. And then his mouth was on her and his tongue was making soft, slow circles around her clit and she couldn't think of anything at all, could only lose herself in the feeling.

"Spike!" Buffy gasped, grabbing him by the shoulders and hauling him up her body. She had to have him, all of him, had to know if he would make her feel the way she'd always wanted to. Complete. She kissed him frantically as she fumbled with his black jeans, the button snapping and skittering across the room. She tasted herself on his tongue, and it only made her want him more. She worked his jeans down over his hips, and his cock sprang free. Rock hard and bigger than she'd expected, pre-cum already glistening against the tip of the pale column. Oh, God.

His lean, firmly muscled body hovered over her, shadowy and beautiful in the candlelight. His cock teased between her thighs, at her entrance. "Spiiike," she breathed.

His voice was gravelly when he spoke, eyes blue velvet when he looked at her. "Say you want this, Slayer. Say it's not because you're scared, or confused, or out of your mind somehow. Say it's what you want."

She was panting already, body wound tightly with need. But she couldn't say it, could she? Admit that she wanted Spike?

She arched her back, trying to get him inside, but he pulled back slightly, waiting.

She could stop this right now, stop this whole crazy, dream-like thing. She could tell him no, that it wasn't what she wanted. That she was completely out of her mind and this was the last thing on earth she'd really want to do. She could get dressed and leave here, go back to the Magic Box and pretend that this never, ever happened. It would be the best thing for both of them.

What else could she say?

"I do," she gasped, desperately. "Oh God, I do."

He plunged into her, pushing himself all the way in. He had to be inside her, had to be filling her up. It was rougher than he'd intended, more than any normal human should be able to take, but his chip hadn't fired, despite the loud cry escaping her mouth. Easy, he warned himself, but his body didn't seem to be listening. He'd never needed anyone else so badly before. She was so hot, so wet, her inner walls squeezing him, tugging him, pulling him in.

He stopped then, rested his forehead against hers and looked into her eyes, his own expression one of complete and utter awe. She'd let him inside of her. "Christ," he said. "Buffy." He never dreamed she'd feel like this.

She was full of him, stretched like she'd never been before. So much of him. And still her body was screaming for more. She'd never had a lover so powerful before—sure, there had been Angel that first time, but he'd been so tender, as though he were afraid she'd shatter beneath his hands. And Riley, so sweet but so human, so breakable himself. And no need to even think of Parker, the prick. No one had ever treated her like what she was—a strong woman, powerful in her own right. Except Spike. Her body had met its match. It thrilled her, made her feel alive, sexually, in a way she realized she'd never felt before. Except it was so wrong, and she should feel guilty already, and she should be disgusted with herself.

But she wasn't.

"Don't hold back," she whispered to him.

Her breath was hot against his lips, her pretty mouth swollen from his bruising kisses. The Slayer, the girl he'd wanted for so long, wanted to kill, to crush, and then wanted to kiss, to love, and there she was, beneath him with her wide-open eyes, telling him not to hold back, not to be anything other than what he was. Which was good, because he didn't think he'd be able to hold back, even if he wanted to. Everything in his body was telling him that this was it, this was exactly where he belonged.

"Wouldn't dream of it, luv," he murmured, his words swallowed by her mouth as she kissed him hungrily. He finally began to move inside her, one slow pull outward, and then he was pounding into her, claiming her pussy as though it had belonged to him all along. As though she had.

"Yes," she breathed. "Yes, yes, yes..." Her legs wrapped around him, crushing him into her deeper, harder, while her hands gripped the cool taut muscles of his arms, nails scraping against his biceps and making him moan.

"Christ," he cried. "So bloody perfect, so sexy, so beautiful." He was drowning in her, covered in her wetness, as he hammered into her and she met him thrust for bruising thrust. Their hips slammed together over and over, the base of his cock sliding against her clit, and she could feel her orgasm building. She'd never felt anything like this before.

"More," she gasped in his ear.

Spike lifted her off the ground, just enough to wrap his arms underneath her, holding on tightly as he plowed furiously into her, his chest smashed against hers. She wrapped one arm around his neck, hand grabbing at his platinum hair, pulling his head to her so she could claim his mouth with her desperate kisses. Her other hand gripped one ass cheek, pulling him into her, fingernails piercing the sensitive skin.

"Oh, God!" she cried, clutching him to her with her arms and legs as she felt herself pulled into the most intense orgasm of her life. She didn't want to scream his name, didn't want to feed his ego, but her mouth, her entire body, was working independently from her brain and she did scream his name, over and over and over.

He was almost there himself, with that needy grip she had around him, arms, legs, and pussy all clamped around him so tightly he couldn't have breathed if he'd needed to. Dimly, he heard something, another heartbeat, maybe, outside the crypt. But then he heard his name, like that, from her mouth, in the throes of her orgasm, and he was lost. He felt the bones in his face shift and knew he was vamping, but he couldn't much help it at this point.

"Oh fuck…Buffy!" he cried into her ear. He could have roared, could have sobbed, could have buried his fangs into her neck with the sheer intensity of the moment, but he did none of those things, just pressed his forehead into the flesh of her shoulder and groaned as he let go.

The feel of him erupting inside her was surprising—she'd gotten so used to condoms with Riley. She didn't know if it was the vampire's power or just the lack of a barrier, but she wasn't prepared for the force of Spike's cum flooding her, and the feel of it, coupled with the thrilling knowledge that she was the source of his very vocal pleasure, sent her tumbling into a second orgasm. She squeezed her muscles and he gasped, and she felt another spurt, felt their combined juices start to leak out of her.

"Buffy," he breathed into her neck, his human face returning as he slowly came down from his climax. "Oh, Buffy." He was gasping for air he didn't need, and she was trembling beneath him. He didn't move, just held her tight and waited to see what would happen next, how she would react, now that they'd done this together. He was completely at her mercy.

He kept his mouth firmly closed, terrified he would say the words that had been on the tip of his tongue since that first kiss.

I love you.

Chapter 11

Oh, God.

She could feel her body shaking, arms and legs and entire body trembling, and she couldn't make it stop. What had she just done? She'd had…sex…with Spike, her enemy, Slayer of Slayers. This was so, so bad.

Only he didn't feel much like her enemy right now, his lukewarm body covering hers like the world's most perfect blanket, hands pressed to her back, head nestled into her neck.

Her rattled brain had thought that being with him, like this, would surely give her some answers. Instead, she found herself with even more questions. She did have one answer; however: she could feel, now, that it was true. Spike would be hers one day, if she wanted that.

She'd always hated prophecies, each potential truth hiding riddles and tricks. She hated the idea that her choices were predestined, that they didn't belong to her. But seeing her, seeing Eden, made it hard for Buffy to hate the prophecy that foretold of her existence. Now that she'd seen her child, she just couldn't wish her away. She wouldn't want to. Also, seeing the precious little girl had opened her up (both figuratively and literally, it seemed), immediately, to the idea of being forever linked to someone she'd always considered her enemy. It was enough to make her wonder if the feelings hadn't been bubbling somewhere below the surface all along, just waiting for an excuse to break free. But they weren't supposed to be together yet. Asher had made that clear. What if them being together like this really did change the future? What if they somehow, inadvertently, made Eden disappear? Made it so she never existed? Did they have the power to change the prophecy, now that they knew about it?

It made her head hurt just thinking about it.

What were they supposed to do now?

It would be so easy to push Spike off of her, to attack him with all the force of her confused emotions, to run out of his crypt and pretend this hadn't happened. Only that didn't feel right to her, not anymore. She thought of those sweet little-girl eyes, brilliant blue, looking up at her, and knew she couldn't push Spike away so easily, not now.

"Spike," she whispered into the pale curve of the ear that was already so close to her mouth. She felt him tense and knew he was waiting for her to do the exact thing she'd just considered. To run. To deny. She was seized with the sudden urge to soothe him, so she pressed her lips to his throat, just below his ear, and kissed him softly. She felt his muscles relax again.

"Yes, luv?" His voice was raw, throaty.

"We should…probably get back to the Magic Box."

"Right," he said. "Save the girl."

"Our girl," she said. "Eden." The name sounded sweet and strong on her lips, a promise.

She felt a trace of something wet and cold against her neck, and wondered if vampires could cry. Had she ever seen it? She couldn't remember. He kissed her shoulder and rolled away, finally pulling out of her. She could feel their combined juices slipping out, drenching her thighs.

"I…could I have a towel?" Buffy asked, face flaming as Spike's eyes slid to the top of her thighs and the mess there.

Beautiful. Her sweet little quim, puffy and red and spilling his cum and her own. He'd done that, made her scream. Made her beg for him. He could hardly pull his eyes away. He had to fight the urge to bend down and kiss her there, to lick her clean, to taste their mingled sweetness. He forced his eyes back to her face, and was surprised to see that she looked embarrassed.

"Course," he mumbled, shaking his head to try and clear the haze of lust. Spike struggle to his feet and looked around the room for his clothes. His ripped shirt was tossed over the back of the chair, his jeans a messy pile in the floor. He slid into them and shook his head, lips curving into a smile when he noticed the missing button. "Be right back, pet," he said, and disappeared quickly into the lower level of the crypt.

"Oh, God," she muttered, struggling into a sitting position. She could feel the scrapes against her back from the force of Spike's body pounding into hers against the crypt floor. So amazing. But wrong. It was wrong, right? She slipped back into her bra, feeling around on the floor for her top. She held it up, assessing the dried blood on the side of it. "Great," she said. She obviously would not be making it home to change.

Spike was suddenly back in front of her, standing, his pale chest practically glowing in the candlelight. "Slayer," he said, holding out a towel.

She felt the color rise back into her cheeks as he watched her. "Could you…um, look away or something?"

He smirked, shook his head, and turned his back to her, zipping and fastening a fresh pair of black jeans. He pulled his black tee shirt over his head, and tossed an identical shirt on the arm of the chair. "Noticed your top is all torn and bloodied. Brought you this…" he pointed to the shirt, "if you want it."

A strangled noise erupted from her throat as she dried herself with the towel. "If I…wear that…everybody's gonna know what we've been doing." She held a hand to her forehead. Was she feverish? Sick? She'd just slept with Spike, and now everybody was going to know. "Oh, God."

"Don't wear it then, Slayer. I don't give a flying fig. Probably have something of Harm's around here somewhere if you'd rather."

"Uh, no. A whole universe of no." How had she completely forgotten about Spike's girlfriend? Did she live here with him? She could have walked in on them in an extremely compromising position at any time. Of course, then Buffy would have just staked her. But that would have pissed Spike off, maybe. And why did she suddenly care what pissed Spike off?

"Fine. Wear your bloodied bits."

She tugged her jeans back on and held up the ripped and bloodied shirt again, eyed the sliced jacket. She could stop by her house and change, but hadn't she wasted all of her downtime here, with Spike? She'd told the gang she'd be back in a few hours, max, and she knew she must be closing in on it. Plus, there was the nagging sense of unease about Eden, the unsettling thought that she and Spike may have ruined it all by coming together like this, now. Did they have the power to keep Eden from existing? She needed to get back to the Magic Box to make sure that the locator spell had worked—that she was still out there, somewhere. Here. Alive.

If Buffy showed up back at the Magic Box in her own ruined clothes, the gang would wonder why she hadn't been home to change. If she wore Spike's shirt, they would know why she hadn't been home to change. Either way, they would know. She reached for Spike's extra tee. "No, this is good," she said, blushing. "Thank you." She pulled it over her head, lost for a moment in the darkness of the shirt. It was soft, well-worn, and smelled undeniably like Spike—smoky, musky, dark. Somehow sensual in a way she couldn't quite describe. Her friends would know exactly where she'd been, and who she'd been with. But she couldn't waste time thinking about that right now.

He looked at her, hoping the shock didn't register on his face. She'd let him put his hands on her, hell, she'd put her hands on him. Now, the Slayer was wearing his shirt, face still flushed and hair mussed from their fevered lovemaking. Breathtaking, even if he didn't really need to breathe. The top was a bit long on her, hanging to her thighs, but it looked surprisingly natural with her jeans and black boots.

Buffy pulled a hair tie from her wrist and touched her hair hesitantly. Great. Just-been-fucked hair. She was basically doing the walk of shame, only it wasn't morning—closing in on midnight, more like—and she wasn't going home. She remembered seeing girls like this in college. Back when she was a college student. A co-ed. And now, she was a dropout, leaving her boyfriend's crypt in the middle of the night.

I so did NOT just think of Spike as my boyfriend.

Now that it was over, the guilt was starting to set in. She'd betrayed Riley, her actual boyfriend. Sure, she'd gotten a big, life-altering shock today. She didn't know how it happened, but somewhere in this crazy day, she had really started to believe that she would end up with Spike. But that was in the future, and here in the present, she had a boyfriend to think about. She shouldn't have run to Spike like this, not before figuring out her own head, her own heart. Not before ending things with Riley, at least. She realized, belatedly, that she'd already let go of Riley in her mind. Just like that.

The two of them were quiet as they left the crypt, each lost in their own thoughts. He thought of taking her hand, but decided against it. He had to be careful with her, if he didn't want her to run off when this thing was all figured out.

"Does she live with you?"

"Who?" he said, the question catching him off guard.

"Harmony? Do you live together?"

"God, no! Bloody hell! You think I could live with that?" He pulled a cigarette from his pocked and paused to light up. "Pfft."

"Oh." She was relieved to hear it, and she didn't want to think about why that was.

"Why?" he asked.

"Just wondering."

Jealous, luv? He wanted to say, smirking at her with his tongue curled behind his teeth in the way that he knew made her crazy, but after this very long and very confusing day, he just couldn't muster it.

"Does Soldier Boy know where you are?" he asked instead.

"No."

"You gonna tell him?" He tried to act as though the question was a casual one, even though he was very, very interested in her answer.

"I don't know," she said. She didn't look at him. "I don't know what any of this…means."

He clucked his tongue, disappointed, but not surprised by her answer. "Well, that makes two of, then."

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Hey guys," Buffy said, trying desperately for casual as she walked into the shop, Spike following close behind.

"Good, you're both back," Giles said, looking from Buffy to Spike and back again. Buffy felt all eyes in the Magic Box zero in on her, knew they were taking in the outfit, the fact that she'd returned not alone, but with Spike at her side. She felt herself blushing. A lot. If blushing were an Olympic event, she would totally be a gold medalist.

"You're wearing Spike's shirt," Anya observed. "Oh! Buffy and Spike had sex!" She looked around the circle, clearly pleased with herself for making the obvious connection. Now it was the Scoobies' turns to blush.

All except for Xander, who laughed. "They definitely did not have sex! Buffy probably ran into a demon or something else really nasty on her way to get Spike and she probably took one of Spike's shirts because hers was messed up…or something, right Buff?"

She couldn't look him in the eye. Her face was surely bright red now. Lie, she told herself, but her mouth wouldn't open. Lie, lie, lie!

"Yeah," Spike said. "That's what happened. Demon. Fyarl, actually. Got that slimy stuff all over her. Was disgusting. Smelled awful, too. Couldn't stand to even walk next to her, smelling like that. Not that Slayer smell isn't…awful anyway…" he trailed off, having started with a good cover and sort of lost it along the way. He could smell himself all over her, mixed with that delicious Slayer scent he'd never, ever forget. She smelled divine.

"We were just about to ring you," Asher said, abruptly, and Buffy and Spike both looked at him gratefully. "We've just found her again. She's at the old high school."

"Why?" Buffy asked. "Does the First feed off of the Hellmouthy goodness?"

Asher nodded. "I should have guessed it myself. Obviously the site where the Hellmouth opens is a…special location, for the source of all evil. When the school is rebuilt, the Hellmouth opens in the basement…but I think in your time, it was…the library? So, I think that's where we'll find them."

Buffy nodded. "Then it's time to go," she said, matter-of-factly.

"The Bringers," Spike said. "Mostly physical, yeah? No eyes, but they move like they can see. Do we need to be worried about them working some kind of mojo? Magics?"

Asher shook his head. "Mostly physical, yes. They can do the basics, like the cloaking spell they performed, but mostly they just fight. But don't underestimate the power of the First. It can take the form of any person who has died." His eyes swept the ground and then looked back at Buffy and Spike. "Including the two of you. Which could be very confusing for a child, and is probably how they've kept her from fighting back on her own. We've prepared her for a lot of potential foes, but, well, the First rarely comes up, as you've already decimated it and all of its agents."

Buffy and Spike looked at each other uneasily, neither of them really looking forward to facing themselves in battle.

"That's why she'll go willingly with the Bringers, if her mum or dad tells her it's safe to do so. So…we need to get to the high school. Uh…nowish."

"Weapons," Buffy said. "Load up."

"Bollucks," Spike said, suddenly. Buffy stared at him. "Well, can't fight them, can I? Human. Got a world of pain when I hit that one in the cavern earlier." He pounded one fist into the other palm as though he'd hit them right then, if he could, headache be damned.

"Keep forgetting that," Asher said, which made Spike's head spin. Did the chip come out, at some point in the future? God, he hoped so. "You'll still come along. You can make a grab for Eden while the rest of us hold them back. But, some of you should stay here. The Bringers won't hesitate to kill. Buffy and Spike, it may even be best if the two of you stayed here, actually. If the Bringers somehow manage to kill you now, it won't matter that their new weapon won't exist anymore—you'll have left the Hellmouth unguarded for the First, and all other manner of evil things, to do with as it will.

Both Spike and Buffy looked at Asher with eyebrows raised identically in a challenging manner. He sighed. "Worth a try. Willow and Tara, and Giles as well—why don't you three stay here? If we don't check in after a few hours, then assume we've failed. If that happens, then Willow and Tara, perform the locator spell again. Try to pinpoint Eden's location. Giles, come to the school and look for us. Even if I am…incapacitated, it is imperative that I am in physical proximity to Eden when my 24 hours are up."

Giles raised his eyebrows. "The time travel portal will call you back, even if you're dead?"

Asher nodded.

"I don't enjoy fighting," Anya said. "It's always so sweaty and life-threatening. I want to stay here. Xander, you stay too."

He shook his head. "No can do. Much as this sitch gives me the extreme super-wiggins, I fight when Buffy fights. Even if that means fighting with...him. So…let's go kick some evil ass, or something."

"Remember," Asher said to Buffy and Xander. "She'll be surrounded by Bringers. We don't have to defeat them all. Our goal is merely to get her away. Kill as many as you need to in order to get to her, but don't get distracted with killing them. Without her, they can't do much right now. She is our one and only priority." As if Buffy or Spike needed reminding.

"Let's go, then," Spike said, leading the way out the door.

Chapter 12

"So…these Bringer guys…how do they make with the traveling, exactly?" Xander asked, as the foursome drew closer to the old high school. "To take the little girl across the county. Do they teleport? Can they fly?"

"No," Asher said. "But they can drive."

"They drive? With no eyes? That's…that's…that's worse than letting Buffy behind the wheel!"

"Collective consciousness," Asher said. "I don't really understand it myself, but they have a combined ability to sense things. Movement."

They approached the ruins of the high school. Though Buffy was well aware of the current state of the building (and the reasons behind its current state), it never failed to surprise her to see the dark, crumbling mass that had been her former school. This was where she'd met the friends she imagined she'd keep for as long as she lived, where she'd accepted her fate as a Slayer, where she'd come to rely on her Watcher as both a mentor and a father figure.

Where she'd fought Spike for the first time.

"At least it isn't creepy here," Xander said. "How the hell did Riley hide our here last year without contracting tetanus or falling through the floors? This place is a complete danger zone."

"Agreed," Buffy said, pushing away thoughts of Riley for the moment. "There is no way on earth this place is structurally sound. And not exactly with the well-lit, either. Be careful inside." With Xander and Asher in front of them for the moment, Buffy impulsively grasped Spike's hand and squeezed, looking quickly into his eyes. She dropped his hand.

"Stop." Spike's voice brought them all to a standstill, and they watched as two Bringers came out of the shadows and moved through the half-collapsed entryway into the school.

"Already rounding up the troops," Asher said. "Who knows how many we'll find inside. Be prepared to fight the minute we walk through the doors."

"You know the whelp can't actually fight, don't you?" Spike mused. "Probably be out cold before we even make it inside."

"Really?" Asher said, surprised. "Huh. He fights quite well in my time."

"I do?" Xander piped up, eagerly. "I fight well? You mean I don't get knocked out in every fight? Did you hear that, Buff? I fight well!"

She laughed at his excitement, and Spike shook his head. "Took you long enough, didn't it?"

"Hey!"

"Quiet, now," Asher said, as they stepped through what used to be the school's entrance. "Head for the library."

Buffy pulled out a small flashlight and waved it carefully through the hallway. "Weren't they supposed to demo this place and rebuild?" she whispered. If that was the case, then they weren't making the fastest progress on it. Dented lockers lay topsy turvy all across the hallway, a layer of ash and debris having settled over them, along with shreds of notebook paper and bits of ceiling insulation.

Spike vamped, relying on his night vision and his hearing to guide them to what used to be the school library. "They're here, all right," he confirmed. "I can hear them. Sounds like some kind of chanting again."

"Probably a way to communicate with the other Harbingers," Asher said, quietly.

"Incoming," Spike said, sensing a new heartbeat nearby. Spike, Buffy, Xander, and Asher all flattened themselves against what was left of a wall, fading into the shadows as a robed Bringer moved swiftly through the entryway and into the hallway, apparently headed for the old library as well.

Or he was, until Buffy jumped out and punched him—hard enough to knock him out cold, but not enough to send him sailing across the hall and into another crushed and beaten row of lockers, thereby making a lot more noise than was really necessary and alerting the other Bringers to their presence.

"Should of killed him, luv," Spike said. "He'll be up again pretty quickly. Remember the one I knocked out in the cavern?"

She nodded, but didn't waste time admitting that it bothered her that the Bringers were human. Strictly speaking, she wasn't supposed to kill humans. In fact, she was supposed to protect humans. The idea of twisting one of these guys' necks until it made that satisfying crack that she loved to hear when fighting demons made her feel a little queasy, and more than a little guilty.

But it didn't matter. She thought of Eden's pretty face, and knew that she'd kill every Bringer in this building if that was what it took to make sure that her daughter was returned home safely.

They crept along, trying to hurry and keep quiet all at the same time. They passed the charred doorway to what used to be the basement, with its steps that used to be rickety and were probably non-existent now—not that they were going to be checking—and Buffy found herself thinking of Cordelia back in high school, how she'd fallen through the old steps at the factory and had been in the hospital for what seemed like forever. It had all happened because of Spike, because he'd kidnapped Buffy's friends. Her shoulders tensed in sudden anger as she remembered. She'd slept with a monster. The evil thing that had kidnapped her friends and tried to kill her more times than she could count.

Oh, and that evil thing? Eight years from now he would be her husband. What the hell was wrong with her future self? What the hell was wrong with her now?

"Slayer!" Spike hissed. "Pay attention!" She looked down to see a jagged shard of glass (from an office window, maybe?) sticking up out of a pile of what looked like parts of a desk. Her foot was poised in the air, just inches from sinking onto the pointed edge. She skipped lightly over the scary piece of glass that might not have been life-threatening, but still wouldn't have been pleasant lodged in her foot and would have totally ruined her boots.

Maybe that was why. Because Spike wasn't the same the same vampire she'd known back then. He was changing into something…different. Someone who wanted to keep her safe, keep her from stepping on sharp objects, keep her alive. Not good, not yet…but maybe one day? And a soul. How would he manage to get one of those, and why would he ever want it? How many times had she heard him badmouthing Angel and the soul that had tamed him? And speaking of…Angel. If she was with Spike in the future, then she wasn't with Angel. At no point would Angel come back to her, would he realize that he couldn't be without her anymore. Or, she guessed it was possible that he would, but that would mean that she would reject him for some reason she didn't know of yet. There wasn't a future place, like she'd imagined, where they would find a way to be together. And oddly, she found that she didn't mind too much. Her love for Angel was a child's fantasy, a dream that existed in a little bubble of perfection. It was a part of her, yes, but it didn't even feel real to her anymore.

But Spike was real. What had happened earlier was real. And their daughter—there was no denying how real she was.

She shook her head, trying to shake out all of her confused thoughts, and a Bringer slipped out of the shadows and lunged at her.

Asher may have sensed her hesitation at killing a human, but he clearly had no such qualms himself. He had the Harbinger around the chest and had slit its throat in a clean line before the Bringer had even raised its dagger to Buffy. She must have looked mildly surprised by the violent action, because he squared his shoulders and said, "Nothing stops me from getting to her. Not human, not demon. Shouldn't stop you either. It wouldn't, where I come from."

She nodded. Right. She had to focus. Only one thing was important right now, and that was getting Eden out safely.

She heard the voices chanting at the same time she saw the light glowing from the room that had once been the school library. She could feel Spike at her side as she moved toward it. Finally, she saw Eden, seated in a metal chair on the dirt floor amid the debris, once again in the center of a circle made up of Bringers. And outside the circle…more Bringers. There must have been at least twenty of them, crowded around the room, all chanting. But the Bringers voices were soft and muted compared to the sing-song voice of the dark-haired woman in the flowy dress who moved around the little girl.

Drusilla.

"Such a lovely little dolly," Drusilla murmured, her hand a whisper against the light strands of Eden's long hair. Tears streamed quietly down the girl's face. "Don't be afraid. I'm your daddy's mummy. The stars sang sad songs to me and told me you'd come to change it all. Naughty, naughty girl." She snapped her jaws at the girl, her eyes taking on a frightening expression. To Buffy's immense pride, Eden didn't cry out or jump in surprise; her wet little eyes just continued overflowing with those silent tears.

Buffy looked wide-eyed at Spike. "Get your crazy ho ex-girlfriend away from our daughter," she said in a clipped, furious tone.

"Would, luv," Spike replied. "But that's not Dru. Not nearly batty enough."

"Great googly moogly," Xander said, glimpsing Eden for the first time. "She's…she's…so obviously…"

"Ours," Spike and Buffy said in unison, then looked at each other in astonishment. "Got to stop doing that," Spike muttered, shaking his head.

Finally sensing the presence of outsiders, "Dru" turned to the foursome. "My pretty, pretty prince," she said in that sing-song voice that Buffy suddenly found infuriating.

"Piss poor imitation," Spike said.

She laughed, a dark, frightening chuckle, and spun in circle after circle. "How about this one?" she asked, shifting before their eyes…into Buffy.

"Even worse."

"Mummy?" Eden said, her gaze moving back and forth between the real Buffy and the imitation.

"It's okay," the First said, leaning down to her. "I'm here, sweetie. I'm always right here."

The little girl sniffled. Buffy clenched her fists together tightly. "That's not me, Eden," she said, addressing her daughter for the first time. "You know that's not me."

The imitation Buffy laughed and spun in a circle again, this time morphing into Angel.

Angelus, actually.

"I'm rather partial to this look, myself," the First said. "So evil in his own right, isn't he? Fitting." He smiled at Buffy. "You're looking good, Buff." Then he turned to Eden, running his finger along her cheekbone, almost touching her, but not quite.

"Get your homicidal ex-boyfriend away from our daughter," Spike growled to Buffy from the side of his mouth, his eyes never leaving Angelus' face.

"You know it's not him," she whispered.

The First leaned into Eden, drinking in her sweet features. ""We're going to have so much fun, together, aren't we? Such a pretty little thing, and so young. William, remember all of the…fun things I used to do to little girls her age? This will be even better, just knowing she's yours."

Buffy and Spike moved as one, Spike roaring with pure, animalistic rage. Buffy's face was red and angry, and her body was screaming for blood. "Get away from her, you sick, twisted bastard!" Spike yelled. He knew it wasn't Angelus. He knew it, but he couldn't help the instinctive reaction. The pair lunged together, hitting the ground as "Angelus" disappeared. And reappeared behind them.

"Ah, ah, ah William," the First taunted. "You can't stop me. Nothing can stop me. She belongs to me now."

"Enough," Buffy said through clenched teeth, squaring her shoulders and making her move to Eden.

During their little interlude with Angel's less-souled alter-ego (or the First's spot-on imitation), Buffy had failed to notice that the chanting had stopped. But suddenly the Bringers were on their feet and rushing at them foursome. One moved into her path, effectively blocking Eden from her grasp. He lunged at her with a dagger identical to the one that had sliced her skin earlier, but this time Buffy ducked the blade and lashed out with her foot, kicking the robed man squarely in the stomach. She could hear the others fighting behind her, could feel Spike at her back, bobbing and weaving to avoid the Bringers' blows. She caught a glimpse of Asher in the flickering torchlight, and was impressed by his astonishingly accurate punches. Figures, she thought, remembering his confession that she'd been the one to train him. Even Xander seemed to be holding his own…until a Bringer shoved him into a corner and knocked him out cold.

One of the robed men moved to Eden, obviously hoping, in all the commotion, to grab her and run before anyone noticed.

Asher noticed. "Eden!" he yelled. "Fight! Don't let them take you! Remember what your dad says…fists and fangs!" The little girl looked at Asher uncertainly, her face still streaked with glistening tears. "Fists and fangs, Eden!" he yelled again.

Buffy slit the throat of the Bringer she was fighting, tearing neatly through the flesh with the robed man's own knife. Hey, if Asher could do it, so could she. She spun around to Spike, who'd just ducked a blow from the Harbinger who now fought with Asher. She raised her eyebrows. "Fists and fangs, daddy?" she asked, pointedly. She shook her head. "My child has fangs."

Spike's eyes were shining, pride evident in the curve of his small smile. "This I gotta see."

Eden nodded, her mouth suddenly a determined little line. Her fist lashed out at the Bringer, landing a hard punch across the robed man's jaw with her small knuckle. She was on her feet on the metal chair instantly, her body in fighting stance, when suddenly her mouth opened and a pair of tiny fangs slid into place. No game face, no bumpies, just those sharp pointy teeth and a golden glint in her eye.

"Bloody hell!" Spike shouted in delight. The Bringer reached for Eden and without hesitation, she sank her fangs into the skin of his arm. When he reached his other hand for her, she swung her leg up in a vicious little kick—connecting squarely with his groin. He grunted and made one more effort to grab her, but she waved one hand in front of her face and a shimmery barrier appeared between herself and the Bringer. His hand smashed into the magical wall with a crunch of bones breaking and he fell to the floor in agony.

A robed man jumped at Buffy, and she had to tear her eyes from the amazing child to do battle. But she'd just realized that the path to Eden was finally clear. "Go now," she yelled at Spike.

He saw the opportunity and ran for the girl, hoisting her up and into his arms. "Time to go, little bit," he said. She wrapped her arms eagerly his neck and held on tight. If she even noticed that he was in game face, she didn't seem bothered by it in the least.

"Get them!" The First yelled, suddenly re-materializing in the form of Buffy.

"Mummy?" Eden said, hesitantly.

"Not your mum," Spike said, holding on to the girl for dear life as he ducked and weaved around the Bringers running at him.

"Go!" Buffy yelled to him, throwing a knock-out punch to the Bringer she fought. She heard the swirl of Spike's duster as he ran at full vampire speed out of the library, and knew he wouldn't stop until he'd gotten Eden to safety. Now, to see that Asher got back there safely as well. But when she turned to help Asher, she saw him stabbing his foe in the stomach, the robed man falling in a heap on the floor. She looked around, and saw that they'd somehow managed to take down all of the Bringers in the room. Some were still conscious, groaning and thrashing on the dirty ground, but Buffy ignored them. Instead, she moved to pull the unconscious Xander into her arms.

"Help a girl out?" She asked Asher, who lifted Xander on one side, while Buffy held his other side.

"We need to move fast, just in case," Asher muttered, though it was hard to rush while carrying Xander between them.

Xander came to as they hurried out of the school and into the dark night. Or, well, morning now. "Where is she?" he asked. "Did we get her?"

"Gave you too much credit, I see," Asher said, shaking his head. "Not a good fighter now."

"Hey!" Xander said. "Is she safe?"

"She's safe," Buffy said. "Now let's get out of here."

They found Spike and Eden not at the Magic Box as agreed, but sitting on a bench on the sidewalk a few blocks away. They appeared to be deep in conversation, Spike using a tissue to wipe the streaks of tears from her cheeks and Eden's legs kicking casually in the air.

Buffy wanted to comment on the fact that Spike had so clearly not followed the plan to meet back at the Magic Box, but was too enamored with the sight of her daughter to even bother. Her daughter and her husband. God, they looked so much alike.

"Eden," Asher said, with considerable relief. "You scared us."

"Ash," she said, her little voice a melody, her sweet smile radiant in the dark early morning moonlight. Her fangs were away already and she looked just like any other little girl. Only prettier. At least, according to Buffy. "I'm sorry," she said.

"Don't be," Asher said. "It wasn't your fault. We're so proud of you."

"You fought really, really well," Buffy said quietly, suddenly shy in the girl's presence.

Eden focused on Buffy, her vibrant blue eyes filled with hope. "I did?"

"You did." The little girl beamed and hopped lightly off the bench, rushing Buffy's legs with a bear hug. Buffy looked helplessly at Spike, who smiled at her and nodded. She bent down so she was level with Eden, and then wrapped her arms around the girl's small shoulders, pulling her close, drowning in her sweet little girl scent. She could feel Spike's gaze, knew if she looked up she would see that awestruck look in his eyes.

She couldn't remember ever feeling so warm, so content, so…complete.

"Great googly moogly," Xander said again, shaking his head.

Eden turned to him, giggling. "Uncle Xan!" she squealed, running to him. His eyebrows lifted in surprise as she scrambled up into his arms. He shook his head, and Spike chuckled.

"No more Bringers around?" Buffy asked.

Spike shook his head. "Can't sense any."

"Then let's get out of here," Asher said, and the quiet group made their way back to the magic shop.

Chapter 13

"Oh, good!" Anya said, when they entered the shop. "You brought Xander back, all safe and alive-looking. And, oh! With a small person. That's good, right?"

Willow, Tara, and Giles crowded around Xander to peer at the child. Even after all of the excitement, or perhaps because of it, she'd managed to fall asleep on Xander's shoulder. The trio walked around him, again and again, studying Eden from every angle.

Asher watched them admire the little girl, all the while hoping against hope that Eden remained asleep. It would be rather heartbreaking were she to wake up now, in this group. The three-year-old didn't have the tact that Asher himself did, and it would become obvious rather quickly that there were members of the group that Eden had never met in her time. Tara, watching Eden with wonder. And Anya, flipping a magazine at the table as though the entire thing was hardly worth her attention. Women who were missing from his time.

Women who were missed, in his time.

"Wow," Willow said.

"Amazing," Giles whispered.

"She looks so much like both of you," Tara said.

"Wait til she opens her eyes."

"Wait til you see her fangs," Spike said, smiling. The fascinated expressions of the faces of the group turned wary.

"Not scary fangs," Buffy said hastily. "Cute fangs."

"Fangs?" Xander said. "No one told me about the fangs before I let her jump into my arms."

"Is there such a thing as cute fangs?" Willow mused.

"Yes!" Buffy and Spike responded together. Xander rolled his eyes. "Stop speaking in unison, I beg you."

"So…what now?" Willow asked. "I mean, we won, right? What happens next?"

"Well," Asher said. "It's almost sunrise. They'll be pulling me back to my time around…" he looked at the silver pocket watch hanging from his vest. Buffy couldn't help but notice that, despite the fact that he'd spent the better part of the last hour battling Bringers, not a single piece of his outfit was mussed. No wrinkles, no tears. She looked down at her borrowed tee, streaked with dirt and Bringer blood. Not fair. "Three-thirty, your time? Rupert, can you spin a story for the current Council to keep them away until after we're gone?" Giles nodded. "Wonderful," Asher said. "Then, might I suggest that we all go…home? Try to get some rest after this exciting night?"

"Uh…what do we do with Eden?" Buffy asked.

"I'd rather hoped that Eden and I might rest at your home for a while? Before we go? Seems senseless to get a hotel."

"Cause that would go over well! Mom is going to so flip if I come home with a baby who looks suspiciously like me and a certain annoying vamp!"

Asher didn't meet her eyes when he responded, afraid that he would give away too much. "Actually…I think, with some explaining, she might be pleased to meet her." He crossed his fingers that she wouldn't question him; he wasn't sure if the truth spell was still in effect, so he didn't know if he'd be able to lie if she asked about her mother in his time. But Buffy didn't need to know—his understanding was that there was nothing that could be done at this point, even if he told her. And nothing was supposed to be done about it—Buffy's mum's death had shaped the person that Buffy had become. Still, it would break her heart to know what was ahead in the coming months.

But the Buffy he knew, in his time, was always saying that she wished her mum could see her, being happy, having what was, overall, a relatively normal life. Loved. With a family. Asher felt sure it would bring Joyce comfort to know that Buffy would have those things. That she needn't worry about her daughter's future.

"Pleased? You think?" Buffy definitely did not think her mother would be pleased about this, or understand it at all, but she couldn't deny that she wanted to spend as much time with Eden as possible, before she went back…home.

He nodded. "But, if you're uncomfortable with the idea, I could take Eden. I'm sure there's a decent bed and breakfast around here, right?"

"No," Buffy said quickly. "Not uncomfortable. Don't take her. Please. I do want Mom to see her. Maybe it will make her feel…better. You'll help me explain?"

"Of course."

The group dispersed quickly and quietly, so as not to wake the sleeping girl.

"Oh, Buff," Xander said. "Did Riley ever catch up with you?"

"Huh?" Her eyes widened as she realized she'd forgotten about Riley again. She was clearly the worst girlfriend in history, but with her daughter sleeping peacefully just a few feet away from her…Riley just didn't seem important.

"He stopped by. A few hours ago. Wanted to talk to you about things. We told him you'd gone home, but he had some crazy idea that you were with Spike. Then he left. I thought he was headed to your house. Did he find you?"
She could feel the color draining from her face as she gulped. "He was…he was…looking for me?"

"Yeah. Guess he missed you, huh?"

She stared at Xander blankly. Riley had thought she was with Spike. Had he looked for her…she couldn't even finish the thought.

"Guess so, mate," Spike said, stepping in when Buffy remained silent.

Willow and Tara were almost out the door when Willow turned . "Um, Asher?" She motioned for him to come closer.

"I do the spell, don't I? The one that makes it possible for them to have a…a baby?"

Asher hesitated, then nodded.

"How? I mean, it's impossible to vampires to make babies. I can't even guess at a spell that would work for them…how will I find the right spell?"

Asher laughed. "It's a spell you already know, actually. You've used it before, although with some really wacky results. The modified version you'll use in the future will be much more…precise."

She looked at him, perplexed. He leaned down so that he was whispering in her ear. "I believe you're familiar with a little spell called Thy Will be Done?"

When her eyes widened, he smiled, a twinkle in his dark eyes. He nodded at her, and the witches left the shop.

Xander shifted a sleeping Eden into Spike's arms, shaking his head in complete dismay. He looked at Eden's sweet face and knew, with the kind of certainty that he'd denied himself for years, that Buffy wouldn't be his. Not now, not ever. He loved Anya, of course, loved her more than he'd known he could love another person. But Buffy was his "what if." His maybe. His unrequited dream. Seeing the child with his own eyes was like watching a dream disappear. But he knew it was right—this little girl was meant to be…which mean that (much as it made his stomach turn and his temper flare) Buffy and Spike were meant to be.

"You and Buffy," he muttered, stroking Eden's cheek as she settled her head on Spike's shoulder. "What is it with that girl and vampires?"

"It's a Slayer thing," Spike said. He could feel the little girl's heat warming him, could hear the calm pitter-patter of her heartbeat. Human in a lot of ways, then. He was glad.

Xander and Anya were next to leave, Xander slapping Asher a high-five on his way out. "See you in the future, man," he said. "Ahn, did I tell you? He says I'm a good fighter in the future."

"Oh, honey. He was probably just saying that to boost your self-esteem."

"Nuh-uh!"

Asher laughed as the pair walked out into the night.

And then it was just Buffy and her little future-family, and the two Watchers. "So…home now?" she asked. She couldn't keep her eyes off of Spike and Eden. The last thing she would have ever expected was for him to be tender with a child. But there he was, stroking her shiny hair as she sighed peacefully against his chest.

It was the most beautiful thing Buffy had ever seen.

Giles' eyes were also glued to the sleeping face on Spike's shoulder. "If it's okay with you, Buffy, and erm…Spike…and Asher, of course…"

"Giles?" Buffy interrupted. "You can come home with us, too."

Asher nodded. "I guess it's true that somehow, once she exists, she really can't un-exist. I don't see the harm in the three of you spending a bit more time with her."

Giles nodded. They walked out of the Magic Box together, Giles pausing to lock the door. Spike and Buffy looked at each other awkwardly. Eden's face was smushed against Spike's shoulder, a tiny spot of drool pooling on his tee shirt.

"Right, then," he mumbled. He leaned as though to pass the little girl over to Buffy, but watched the child with an expression of obvious yearning. It was painfully clear to Buffy that he didn't want to let her go.

Asher suddenly steered Giles ahead several feet, leaving the two of them alone. The three, rather.

"Spike," Buffy said in a soft voice. "Come home with us. Please."

He tilted his head to the side and looked at her, surprised. For once, he was utterly speechless.

"Come on," she said, smiling and quirking a brow at him. "You don't want Mom to think you're going to knock me up and then pull a disappearing act, do you? You think her hitting you with the axe was bad…"

He snorted and fell into step beside her, the two Watchers walking ahead.

"You know I'd never do that, right?" Spike asked, his voice gruff. "Never leave you."

The statement hung in the air between them, the closest he could get, right now, to confessing his feelings without getting punched in the nose.

"I know."

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"Quentin Travers speaking."

"Good morning, Quentin. It's Rupert. I'm calling to let you know that Buffy needs to move our little…ah…meeting to a bit later in the day, say 5:00pm? She has a…family situation to attend to beforehand."

"What? What about Sahjhan? We were to discuss a plan this morning."

"Ah, yes. She actually found him last night, on patrol. No child in sight, though, vampire or otherwise. He was carrying an elaborate sword, jewel-encrusted, looked to be demon-made, with a very sleek metal that we've never seen before. Something stolen from the future, perhaps? Buffy was able to disarm him, but, ah…she's taken quite a liking to the weapon, actually, so she'll be keeping it for herself."

"And what of Sahjhan? Is he dead?"

"Got away. Pity, isn't it? Ah, well, neither here nor there. However, I believe there is still the matter of our resident mystery woman to discuss, so Buffy and I expect that you will still be present for our meeting this afternoon. Buffy said, and I quote, 'be there or be square.'"

There was a click, and Quentin Travers was left with only the buzzing sound of the dial tone against his ear.

Chapter 14

The house was quiet when the group arrived home, the sun just beginning to bathe the sky in shades of pink and orange as Giles slipped into the kitchen to make the phone call to Travers. Joyce wasn't awake yet, and for that matter, neither was Eden.

Dawn was so going to freak out when she saw this, Buffy thought, before she remembered that Dawn was over at Janice's house. She hadn't actually worried about Dawn all night; for the first time in recent memory, she hadn't thought of her every minute, hadn't driven herself crazy thinking of all of the ways that the mysterious crazy woman could get to her. She felt guilty about it, and thought briefly of calling Janice's house to make sure that Dawn was okay, before reigning in her worry. Surely Dawn had checked in with her mother, and hadn't Buffy been a little bit preoccupied tonight? It was probably best that Dawn didn't see Eden anyway. There were enough things to worry about where Dawn was concerned—the last thing Buffy needed was Dawn running around behind her when this was all over, reminding her of the super-adorable little girl that would only exist if Buffy gave in and admitted she had a thing for Spike.

But she would be happy about it. Buffy knew she would.

Spike settled a softly snoring Eden onto the sofa, where she curled herself around a pillow and sighed. Buffy's eyes were glued to her. She looked so peaceful, all anxiety from the events of the previous 24 hours seemingly erased as she slept.

"You made the call?" Asher asked, as Giles returned.

"Yes," he answered, his eyes on the sleeping girl as well. "I fabricated a ridiculous story about a weapon. Buffy, if Travers asks when you see him, pretend you have a new sword, okay?"

"Uh-huh."

"She has a heartbeat," Giles said, watching Eden.

"Yes," Asher replied.

"Can she go in the sun?"

"Yes."

"Vampire hearing?"

"Yes."

"Sight? Can she see in the dark?"

"You know," Asher said, rolling his eyes. "Since it's clear that you have some questions for me, perhaps we should take this conversation elsewhere, and allow Spike and Buffy to get some rest, at least." The pair of Watchers turned into the dining room, where Buffy could no longer hear Giles' rapid-fire questions. Spike could still hear them, though he was too enamored with his girls to pay proper attention. Who cared what abilities the sprog had or didn't have? They'd find out soon enough anyway. From what he could see, she was bloody perfect, and that was all that mattered.

He sat on the floor facing the sofa, and before Buffy knew what she was doing, she was cross-legged on the floor beside him. The two warriors sat silent, gazing, enraptured, at the sleeping face of their daughter. The thing that neither of them was ever supposed to have, and there she was, in the flesh. Her pink pajamas with white polka-dots were a testament to the fact that she really had been pulled out of bed in the middle of the night, the white spots now smeared with dirt and grime from the time she'd spent in caverns and half-collapsed buildings.

Spike had been alive (or undead, at least) a very long time, but he couldn't remember ever having a more perfect moment, not as a human, and certainly not as a vampire. Sitting in the glow of the lamplight, next to Buffy, watching their daughter sleep. He was perplexed to all hell as to how his life got so damn good in the future, but he'd have plenty of time to think on it later. Right now, he'd never felt better. He'd made love to his Slayer—with his Slayer. He'd enjoyed a good brawl (even if he couldn't take part the way he'd have liked), he'd been told he would have this, this magic. This happiness. He couldn't wipe the contented smile from his face, couldn't stop his muscles, sated from making love to the Slayer and from the thrill of a fight, from relaxing so that his body sagged and his eyelids slowly drifted shut.

He didn't want to go to sleep, couldn't imagine that he wouldn't wake up in the morning and find that this had all been some wonderful, buggered-up dream. Not when everything he ever wanted was finally right here in front of him.

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Joyce was stuck, four steps from the bottom, her housecoat wrapped around her tightly and her mouth open. She couldn't speak, because she didn't know what to say. She could only stare at the unlikely trio curled up on the sofa. Spike, the vampire Buffy supposedly detested, had his head on the arm rest, his boots and duster in a heap on the floor, one arm stretched underneath the head of the golden-haired child who was nestled against him. His other arm was curled around Buffy, who was snuggled around him, head resting on his stomach, legs tangled with his. The morning sunlight attempted to peek in through the window, but the blinds and curtains were closed tightly to prevent the vampire from going up in flames.

She couldn't imagine waking to find anything stranger. Or so she thought, until the very-well dressed man in dread locks rounded the corner and wished her a good morning. It took all of his calming impulses to keep her quiet and steer her away from the sleeping spectacle, past Giles, who had fallen asleep with his head on the dining table, and into the kitchen with a complete stranger.

From there, he introduced himself and attempted to explain, assuring her that Giles could verify the unlikely story, once he was awake. Then she'd shaken her head many times and tried to argue with Asher that there was no way Buffy would end up married to Spike. And so, finally, he caved and told her the entire story, as he knew it. He didn't mention that, sadly, she wouldn't be around to see it all, but since he knew it to be truth, he felt no trepidation in sharing with her everything he knew.

So she'd made coffee, and he'd talked and talked. About the spell that had made Slayers all over the world. About Buffy defeating the First Evil, about Spike's soul and his sacrifice. How lost Buffy had been when she'd thought Spike was gone forever. Giles had tried to convince her to travel, to enjoy her newfound freedom, but she'd been a shell. Empty. She'd settled in England to help Giles found the first Slayer Academy. And then Spike had shown up at her doorstep, somehow resurrected by the Powers That Be. They'd been married so quickly after that, doing it in secret before anyone even knew that Spike was back. Married in the world of humans, bound too in the demon world. No one could tear them apart, and after Spike had saved the world with his death, no one would even want to try.

"It's remarkable," Joyce said, tiptoeing past where Giles was snoring in the dining room and back to the living room to stare at little family on the sofa. Even though Asher had given her the brief story, she just couldn't wrap her head around it. Her daughter, the Vampire Slayer, was married to this, this vampire. This very dangerous vampire.

This vampire who apparently worshipped Buffy, who treated her well and fought at her side. And they'd made this lovely child together. Her granddaughter.

Buffy didn't die slaying; at least, not in the foreseeable future. She didn't die slaying and she had some sort of normal life and a man who loved her and a child. She had those things that Joyce had wanted for her.

She would have known the child belonged to Buffy and Spike even if the girl hadn't been cuddled up against them. Even sleeping, she looked just like them. And Joyce knew, for the first time since she'd learned about her daughter's calling, that things would be okay. She felt it. Even if it wasn't completely normal, it was right.

Joyce shook her head, returning to the kitchen, where Asher sat. She shook her head, refilling his coffee cup. "I can't believe it. I just can't believe it."

"It works out, everything, for both of them," Asher assured her. "Their daughter is proof of that."

"But Eden is a fighter too," Joyce said. "How can that be right? Another little girl burdened with this horrible destiny?"

Asher beamed with pride. "She's the best fighter there is, or she will be. She's prepared for her destiny. Look at her parents. They won't let anything happen to her. She will change the world."

"And they're happy?" she asked.

He nodded. "I've never seen two people happier."

She sighed and shook her head. "Another vampire. And I spent all of that time trying to get her away from Angel."

Asher's face clouded. "Yeah, she doesn't really have much to do with him anymore. He's a bit…morally ambiguous these days, can't really tell if he's fighting for us or against us. And that soul of his is so flighty. Plus, you know, to say that Spike doesn't care for him would be an understatement of epic proportions."

"I always knew he was bad news. Angel, not Spike." Joyce took a sip of her coffee and shook her head again. "My granddaughter is half-vampire."

"Yes."

"She's beautiful, though."

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A timid knock on the door caused Buffy to jump up, startled, into a seated position. Daylight. Morning. Spike. On her sofa. He stirred at the second knock on the door, but his face relaxed into a soft smile and he buried his face in Eden's hair. Had she ever seen him look so content? It was a gorgeous sight, really. She moved quickly to the door, desperate not to wake the sleeping pair.

Willow or Xander, she thought, twisting the doorknob.

It wasn't.

She found herself face-to-face with Riley.

"Buffy," he said. He looked somehow nervous and angry at the same time. "I guess we need to talk."

She didn't move to let him in, her own expression wide-eyed and sleepy. "Uh, Riley…" she trailed off.

He didn't know what he was doing here. He knew where they stood, he'd heard it, for God's sake. Heard her moaning another man's name. Not even a man—a creature. He'd left Spike's crypt and gone to Willy's, gotten drunker than he could ever remember, and finally let that dirty vampire woman take a bite of him. He'd never admit that he could sort-of understand, now, the fascination with vamps. That darkness, that passion, that need.

He'd felt so dirty afterwards, in the early morning sunlight as he left the abandoned house. Which made him wonder if Buffy was feeling the same way, if this had been some terrible night where they'd both walked on the side of darkness and learned that they belonged in the light. If they could somehow put this disgusting episode behind them. Could he forgive her, knowing she'd had a vampire inside of her? It made his stomach turn, but maybe it hadn't gone that far. Maybe it was just...he didn't even want to think about it.

But hadn't he let a vampire inside of him? He rubbed at the mark on his forearm, a spot he'd chosen, knowing it would be easily hidden beneath his shirt sleeves. It burned. It felt good, too. It made him feel shame in a way he'd never thought he could, and it also made him feel an undeniable pull to turn around and go back to that abandoned house so that his vampire could have another drink. And if she went too far…so what? He shuddered to think that the pull could be so strong. He was disgusted with himself.

His head pounded with the force of his hangover, and he was still wearing yesterday's clothes. But he'd had to see Buffy, had to know what was happening between them. He'd hoped with every fiber of his heart and body that seeing her in the daylight would make everything okay again. That they would be okay again. If he could only show her how much he loved her, then she would know that she belonged with him and not with anyone else. And not with anything else.

Except here she was, with her mussed hair, wearing a black tee shirt that was too big on her small frame to be her own. She was wearing the vampire's shirt. She wasn't even hiding what she'd done. Riley couldn't keep himself from leaning slightly forward, from looking. And there they were. The vampire, asleep on her sofa. With the child.

"Oh," he said, slowly. "Or maybe now isn't a good time."

"Really not," Buffy said, turning pink. He couldn't tell if she was embarrassed or just uncomfortable. "Riley, I…I just…this is all really weird. The weirdest. Could we talk later? Tonight, maybe?"

His jaw was clenched, and he felt like shouting, but his head wouldn't let him. It was all he could do to keep from heaving on her doorstep as he nodded, anger glinting in his eyes. "Sure," he said. "Later."

Buffy closed the door, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. She could smell coffee in the kitchen. Okay, she thought. Time to try and explain this to Mom. But when she walked into the kitchen, she found her mother sipping coffee and laughing with Asher.

"Good morning," Joyce said, a light smile playing on her lips. "Something you'd like to tell me?"

Buffy flushed. "I…well…"

"I'm kidding, honey," Joyce said. "Asher filled me in. Quite a story. Guess it explains the vampire and the strange little girl on my sofa, huh?"

Buffy couldn't have been more surprised if a demon had burst into their kitchen at that moment. "You…you know about all of this, and you're okay with it?"

"Well…it's not what I would have picked for you, if I'm being honest. But, seeing my granddaughter…here…now…with my own eyes…well, I just can't imagine things happening any other way."

Buffy laughed, a surprised, half-crazy gasp and brushed her eyes quickly to catch any tears before they could escape. "Thanks, Mom." It felt weird to thank her mother for approving of something she herself hadn't actually done yet, but it was the only thing she could say.

Just then, Spike and Eden stumbled drowsily into the kitchen, Eden rubbing her eyes just as Buffy had moments before with one hand and gripping Spike's thumb with the other. Spike's hair was tousled with sleepy curls. He looked less like a predator and more like a little boy himself with his bare feet and half-opened eyes.

"Morning, Joyce," he said, casually, as though nothing were unusual at all.

"Gramma!" Eden squealed, dropping Spike's hand and running to Buffy's mother. Joyce couldn't contain her smile as she knelt down to Eden's level. "Well, hi there," she said, studying the girl. Those big blue eyes. "Remarkable," she said, quietly.

Asher watched nervously, so thankful that future-Buffy had shown her daughter so many times the few photos of Joyce she'd salvaged from the ruins of Sunnydale. And the sketches Spike had drawn, of Joyce holding an axe. Joyce making hot cocoa. Joyce with a scarf around her head. Joyce hugging Dawn. This whole event would be destroyed if Eden blurted out the truth—that Joyce wasn't with them in England. That Joyce wasn't alive at all.

Eden's three-year-old mind couldn't possibly understand everything that was happening, and Asher hadn't even gotten to speak with her yet, to try to explain that she was here ahead of her time. But to his surprise and extreme delight, she seemed just very simply pleased to see her grandmother.

She'd been given an unexpectedly wonderful gift, and she somehow seemed to know not to question it.

Joyce scooped Eden up in her arms, Eden playing with Joyce's brown curls. Spike hovered in the corner of the kitchen, suddenly uncertain without the little girl clinging to him.

"Have a seat, Spike," Joyce said, sensing his unease. If he was going to be her son-in-law one day, she guessed she'd better go ahead and get used to him. She wouldn't admit to anyone how secretly pleased she was with this turn of events. "I'll make you some hot chocolate."

Giles was last to wake, mumbling a "good morning" and seeming rather offended that he hadn't been present for the morning's secret-sharing between Joyce and Asher.

Eden couldn't seem to keep her eyes off Buffy, confusion swimming in her bright blue eyes. God, she looked so much like Spike. It should be illegal for a child to be so amazingly beautiful. It made her think of Spike as beautiful. She glanced at him, saw his eyes following Eden, drinking her in, as though to memorize her. To keep her, once she was gone. The expression of awe never left his face.

Joyce set Eden down while she reached into the cabinet for empty mugs, and Eden toddled over to Buffy, tugging at her hand.

"Mummy," she said. Spike smirked. It was all too obvious that Eden had a British accent.

Buffy stared at her in surprise. She'd never been good with children. But she was a mother. It still hadn't sunk in. One day, this little girl would be hers.

"Um…yeah?" She leaned down to better hear the girl.

"Mummy, where did the baby go?"

Buffy looked at the little girl, extremely confused and not sure how to answer. "Huh?"

Asher intercepted Eden smoothly, pulling the child into his arms and settling her on his lap. "Now, now, Eden...it's okay, I promise. Let's not worry about that right now, okay?"

"What's she talking about?" Buffy asked. "Did Sahjhan bring another child? Should we have been looking for two?"

"Nothing, nothing," Asher muttered, shaking his head and giving Eden a look that usually worked to keep her quiet.

"What baby, sweetie?" Buffy asked, looking to Eden for the answer.

The little girl looked extremely concerned, her cheeks turning pink and her eyes watering as she held out an arm and pointed at Buffy's stomach.

"The one that was in your belly."

Buffy's eyes widened as it all became just too much for one young woman to process, even one who happened to be the Vampire Slayer.

She fainted.

Chapter 15

She opened her eyes to find herself reclining on the sofa, a stack of pillows behind her head. She'd fainted? Really? So not a Slayer thing to do.

Her hand travelled instinctively to her stomach, palm flat against the soft cotton of the tee shirt and the taught muscles beneath. Another child for them. Another miracle. She couldn't believe it.

Giles and Spike were in the living room floor, Joyce and Asher in chairs, all of them watching Eden with fascination.

"Do it again," Spike encouraged, and her fangs shifted into place.

"Amazing," Giles murmured, while Spike chucked and gazed at the girl reverently.

Eden giggled.

"And you…you can repel enemies with your magic?" Giles asked.

"Uh-huh."

"That's only the tip of the iceberg," Asher said, smiling and winking at the little girl. "They'll see, won't they?"

The three-year-old, who couldn't comprehend that she was in a different time with people who didn't actually know her yet, only smiled and nodded, fangs slipping back up into her mouth.

"Does it hurt?" Spike asked. "Hurts a bit when I put my game face on."

She shook her head.

Buffy lay there, watching them. Her sort-of, maybe future family. Her heart felt utterly constricted with the beauty of it all.

Spike looked up. He stared at her for a long moment, one eyebrow raised, before allowing his gaze to drift down to her stomach. He couldn't believe it. He'd spent over a hundred years of his life, or unlife, as it were, doing unspeakably evil things. Torture. Murder. He deserved to be punished, deserved to be miserable, the miserable half-man, half-monster he'd been only the day before. But instead, he was sitting in the floor, playing with his daughter, a child he'd make with the woman he loved more than anything else. Loved her for ages, though he'd only admitted it to himself recently. She'd choose him. Not white-bread Riley. Not true-love Angel. Him. And somewhere in the future, his Slayer was rounded and beautiful with a second baby inside of her. His baby. His family. He felt his eyes welling up and had to cough to push away the wondrous tears.

If his heart could beat, it would break his chest.

It was a magical day.

It was startling to see Eden's attachment to Spike. She followed him everywhere, curling up in his lap when he sat. The little girl wasn't the least bit frightened of him, even when he shifted into vamp face, at her request. She just giggled and traced his fangs lightly with her fingertips, as though she'd done it a hundred times before. Which she probably had. Unbelievably, Spike was a natural with her, playing and laughing. Buffy realized she'd never heard Spike laugh, truly, before. Chuckle, yes. But his genuine laughter was surprising and infectious as he and Eden chased each other around the living room. She was nearly as fast as him, already.

Asher watched Eden's interactions with Joyce carefully. The girl was enamored with her grandmother, but not once did she allude to the fact that she'd never actually met Joyce in person. It gave him immeasurable relief to think that he would not be forced to drop that horrible bombshell on them all. It would do no good for them to know, now. And it would upset them all so terribly.

It would upset Dawn. His Dawn.

He kept hoping she'd walk through the door; how he'd love to see her as the pouty, petulant teenager she'd claimed to be. It would give him such pleasure. But the door remained firmly closed and he supposed he wouldn't get the opportunity to see her in this time, after all. Pity. But he'd gotten to meet her mother, at least. How he'd have liked to talk with Joyce about Dawn, to tell her that, as loved as Buffy would be, Dawn would be as well. But it would have been too much, Asher could see that. And Joyce didn't know about Dawn now, didn't know that she was anything other than a teenage girl. She wasn't worried that Dawn's future would be bleak and empty. She already believed that Dawn would do the normal things that normal girls did-grow up, go to school, get married, have children. It was Buffy she feared for, Buffy whose future she needed believe in.

And Asher had been able to give her that.

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Buffy would have been content to watch her daughter all day. Just seeing Eden was a thrill, just drinking her in. But all too soon, Asher was studying his silver pocket watch and telling Eden to say her goodbyes.

"Don't worry," Asher said to her, smiling. "You truly will see them again in just a moment."

Spike was the first to receive a goodbye hug, and Eden's little arms around him nearly sent him into a poncey crying fit. How long since anyone had wrapped their arms around him, save for Buffy last night, and he couldn't think on that right now. Too confusing. But this sweet, magical child threw her tiny arms around his neck, and he felt as though he might drown in the innocence of her embrace. He breathed in the scent of her, vanilla like Buffy, and lavender, and sweet little girl sweat. He held her tight, willing her scent, the feel of her, to stay with him in these years in between, while he waited for her to exist. Please, he begged silently. God, or the Powers That Be, or Whoever…please don't let me muck this up. Please don't let me do anything to stop her from existing. I haven't done a thing to deserve it, but I will. I swear it. I'll do anything to make sure it all comes true.

Buffy smiled into the crook of the little girl's neck when her own goodbye came. "Don't be afraid," she whispered. "You'll be right back home with us before you know it." She didn't know if her words were comforting. She didn't know how to be comforting. She'd never spent much time around children, except for Dawnie when she was little, and even that had never really happened. She'd long ago stopped expecting to have children of her own one day. And now, this. "You're a really, really brave girl," she said. "I'm so proud of you."

"Love you, Mummy."

Buffy's voice caught, and she looked over Eden's shoulder to see Spike's eyes on her."I love you too," she whispered. "I love you so much."

"Goodbye, Granpa," Eden said, hugging Giles in a playful manner that suggested that someone had certainly loosened up in his old age. Maybe it was being a grandfather (or the equivalent thereof) that had done it. Buffy giggled at Giles' pink cheeks and carefree smile.

Asher held his breath as Eden embraced Joyce, the hug lasting just a little too long, as though Eden did realize what she wasn't verbalizing, as if she wanted to make sure to remember the feel of her grandmother's arms around her. He swallowed hard at the painfully sweet display.

After all of the official goodbyes, Eden popped herself up into Asher's lap, where they sat. And sat.

"You don't…need to do anything to make it happen?" Giles asked, anxiously.

Asher shook his head. "It's up to you—future you—to bring me back at the proper time. All I need is to be in physical contact with Eden to ensure that she travels with me as well." He checked his watch. "Should be any moment now."

Buffy looked at Asher. "Everything works out, really?"

"Everything works out," he said with a smile. "All in good time. It was a pleasure to meet you all." And, before their eyes, the pair started to disappear.

"Wait!" Buffy said, eyes watering. She had the sudden paralyzing fear that if her little girl disappeared now, she would never see her again. "Wait…"

But they were gone. And Buffy couldn't do anything about the lingering, painful ache of very quickly losing such a tangible part of herself. She couldn't do anything about the surprising sobs that stole her breath and shook her body, causing her to double over in the living room as the others watched in stunned silence.

"Oh, God," she gasped. "Oh, God." She couldn't remember ever feeling sadness so crippling.

And then Spike's strong arms were around her and he was holding her so tightly, his own voice cracking in her ear as he murmured soft reassurances that it would all be okay, that it would all work out, that they would see her again. Joyce and Giles quietly crept from the room as the pair of warriors clutched each other in a powerful embrace that would have broken any two people with less strength.

"Buffy," Spike whispered over and over in his ragged voice, when all the other words had run out. He crushed her to his chest and kissed her tears away while ignoring his own. "My Buffy. My Buffy."

And she knew that she was.

Chapter 16

Buffy took a deep breath and knocked on the door. Dealing with Travers had been nothing compared to what she was about to face.

Riley opened the door and stared at her. His eyes were rimmed red, and he was still wearing the clothes she had seen him in earlier. Was that alcohol she smelled on him? He didn't ask her to come in, only stepped aside to allow her entry into the apartment.

"You were with him, weren't you?" he asked, his voice cold.

"Hello to you, too." Okay, so not going the way she'd planned. Although to say she'd had anything planned at all would have been a complete exaggeration. Her head was still too jumbled to even know the right thing to do, how to start this conversation with Riley, and he wasn't making things any easier. Eden had been gone for several hours now, but she was still front and center in Buffy's mind. She couldn't shake the memory of watching her daughter shimmer and disappear before her eyes, couldn't forget the despair she'd felt at watching her go. Couldn't forget Spike's arms around her, soothing her, holding her tighter than any man had ever dared. The most intimate embrace she'd ever experienced.

Damnit, she was in love with Spike.

Hard love. Desperate, passionate, violent, perfect love. She wanted to be with him even now, her body wanted to walk right out of this apartment and back to the vampire's crypt, where he would put his arms around her and love her back. He would. She knew he would.

Crap. Crap, crap, crap.

This thing with Riley couldn't wait. She'd known it by the dangerous clench of his jaw when he'd stood in her doorway that morning and appraised her outfit. She mentally chastised herself. Couldn't she have at least changed back into one of her own shirts when she'd gotten home that morning? She could have at least spared Riley the pain of seeing his girlfriend wearing another man's clothes. But she'd liked the feel of Spike's shirt against her bare skin, the soft worn cotton, the smell of Spike all over her. She'd slept better than she had in ages in their little pile on the sofa, her body pressed into Spike's, her fingertips resting on Eden's arm. She'd felt...whole.

She couldn't avoid Riley, though. She wanted to soothe him, to try and explain how everything felt so confusing to her, but the minute he'd opened the door, he'd hit her with the million-dollar question. The relationship-killing question.

"Were you?" he asked again.

"With him?" she repeated in a quiet voice, not wanting to admit that she knew perfectly well what he meant. "We rescued her together, so yes, I was with him."

"You know that's not what I meant," he said. His teeth were clenched together so tightly that she didn't know how he could get the next words out. "You…you let him inside of you. You slept with him."

She looked at the floor. Had he really guessed that things had gone that far, just from the shirt? Or was he more perceptive than she'd ever given him credit for? Or…he'd been looking for her the night before. He'd believed her to be with Spike. Had he gone to the crypt? She felt her face turning red with the idea of it. Oh, God.

Buffy knew she should cry for him and for the death of their relationship, but after her intense and unexpected burst of emotion earlier in the day, she just couldn't work up tears for anything less than the memory of Eden's smiling face as she disappeared. She couldn't summon tears for Riley. Her voice was steady when she answered. "Yes."

There was a sickening crunch as Riley punched his fist through the wall. She couldn't tell if it was only the sheetrock that was broken, or if Riley's hand was broken as well. His knuckles were shiny red with blood when he pulled his fist out of the jagged hole he'd made.

"Riley, I…I'm sorry. I know this hurts. I didn't want to hurt you. I didn't mean for this to happen. I didn't expect any of this."

"You mean you didn't expect to have sex with a bloodsucking, murderous psychopath?" His voice was harsh, ragged.

"He's not…it's not…he's not that. Anymore. People change."

"People change. Vampires don't."

She wanted to argue with him, because she knew better. Vampires could change, could become something better. It had happened with Angel. And, according to Asher, it would happen to Spike. Hell, now that she was paying attention, she could see that he was already changing, little by little.

"Tell me it didn't mean anything, Buffy. Tell me he doesn't mean anything to you at all."

She took a slow, deep breath. She wanted to lie to spare his feelings, but it would have been a betrayal to Spike, and even though he wasn't here to listen in, the lie refused to leave her mouth. "God, Riley. I can't. What I did was wrong. I know that." Except it hadn't felt wrong, at the time. It still didn't, not really. She truly hadn't meant to hurt Riley, but when she was in Spike's arms, she'd known that she belonged there. "I can't…I can't take it back." There was a hesitant, deadly pause before she continued. "I wouldn't want to."

Riley's voice had been cold, but scarily calm since the moment she'd walked in the door. That changed with those last words from Buffy. I wouldn't want to. The nail in the coffin of their relationship. She would have laughed at the irony of her analogy, except now was most definitely not the time for giggles. Even hysterical ones.

"Wouldn't want to?" he shouted. "It isn't right, Buffy. You know, I always knew you had a sick, twisted thing for vamps, especially that one. Ever since you told me you were engaged to him, and then fed me the crazy story about it all being a joke. Even then, I knew. What I don't know is why. Why would you want him? He's evil. Prophecies aren't always right, Buffy. You know that! You've proved—what, dozens of them—wrong in the past? Now, you hear some prophecy that you're meant to be with a demon and you run to him, just like that? You wanted this. You wanted him, all along. You just needed a reason."

"Riley, I…that's not true." But she didn't know anymore. Was it true? Had she wanted Spike all along? Had this thing with Riley been an elaborate way of distracting herself from the unsettling truth?

"This doesn't have to happen ," he said. "You could stop it from happening. Hell, I could stop it from happening. If I went to his crypt right now and staked him, that would stop it, wouldn't it?"

She was on the defensive before she knew it. "Don't even think of hurting him. If you touch him, I…it won't be pretty, Riley. Yes, we...we slept together and yes, it was wrong and so not the right way to cope with the situation, but this…this thing that happened with the prophecy and our daughter…it's no more his fault than mine. This…this crazy thing happened to both of us. Don't you get that? We weren't expecting this!"

He laughed bitterly. "Prophecy is what you make of it, Buffy. If I staked him right now, what would become of your little prophecy? Spike would be dust, you'd come to your senses, and that disgusting hybrid thing would never exist."

It was his nose that made the crunching sound this time, as Buffy's fist lashed out suddenly and smashed into cartilage. Crap, crap, crap. She'd hit Riley without even realizing what she was doing. Huh…protective instincts already in place. She just couldn't hear it, couldn't listen to him say such things about her child. About her miracle. About Eden. She could change the prophecy. Maybe that was the truth. But all it took was Buffy's mind pulling into focus the so-recent image of the little girl—all blue eyes and soft skin and sweet little lips, and yes, even her tiny razor-sharp fangs, to know that she'd never, ever wish her away. Quite the opposite, actually. She would do everything in her power to make sure she did exist. Even if that meant putting her faith in one de-fanged but currently soulless vampire. Even if that meant letting herself admit that she loved him.

Even if it meant throwing Riley away, tossing out her one shot at a "normal" life.

"Did you even see her, Riley? If you had, you wouldn't dream of saying that. And if you want me to leave this apartment before you're a bruised and battered heap on the floor, you won't say it again." She turned on her heel and headed for the door. Her hand was on the knob before she stopped and looked at him, his face red, one bloodied hand holding his bloodied nose. "I really am sorry. For hurting you." And then she walked out the door.

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A week had passed since Eden had appeared in their lives and then, quite literally, disappeared from it. And Buffy was still trying to wrap her head around it all.

She and Spike. Somehow together. She hadn't seen him since the day Eden had left. Although she'd wanted to-God, how she'd wanted to. As soon as Buffy had managed to pull herself together and they'd extracted themselves from each other's arms, they'd gone their separate ways—him to his crypt, her to confront Travers about the scary diva bitch she now knew as Glory.

And she hadn't seen him since. She'd intended to go straight to him after she and Riley had gone through what some might classify as the world's worst breakup. She'd been filled with the need to confess it all then, to tell Spike that she loved him, that she wanted this—this family, this future. That she wanted him.

She'd gotten scared, though. In the quiet that followed the unbelievable events of those previous twenty-four hours, she'd let herself start to wonder if what she felt was real, or if she just needed something to cling to in all this confusion. Someone who understood everything she was feeling. Someone with strong arms to hold her.

So, against every screaming instinct in her body, she'd avoided his crypt that night.

And every day since then.

She needed to figure things out first.

She could feel him at night, while she was on patrol. She knew he was following her, but he kept his distance, and she didn't let on that she knew. Still, she liked knowing that he was there with her.

It was as if she'd gotten a free pass to have feelings for Spike, in the eyes of the Scoobies. Even Xander hadn't had anything snarky to say since he'd first seen Eden at the high school that night. The little girl had enchanted them all to the extent that Spike just didn't seem so bad to them anymore. It was enough to make Buffy wonder if that was somehow part of Eden's magic, to inspire peace and acceptance in people she was near. She'd brought out the very best in all of them. But Asher had played a part as well; by asserting that Spike would be a champion in the future, he'd somehow managed to make them see that he wasn't all that bad now. That maybe he was already changing, and they'd simply failed to notice.

No one mentioned anything about Spike to Buffy, though, because she would get that hurt, half-confused look on her face like she might have another breakdown any second. And she would punch things. Mostly the punching bag, but everyone knew what she'd done to Riley.

Not that anyone blamed her.

Dawn was the only one who wouldn't leave her alone about Spike. She'd been so upset to learn that she'd missed out on Eden and the time-travelling Watcher, but following Buffy around the house chanting, "Buffy and Spike, sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G" seemed to make her feel better about not seeing it all for herself.

Buffy knew she shouldn't even be worrying over this. She should be thinking of the hellgod, of Glory. She knew now, everything the Council knew, and it was all scary information. She didn't see any way of defeating her. She didn't have the first scrap of a plan. She should be focusing on that, researching, figuring something out. Because fighting a hellgod? Seeming pretty hopeless.

Except Asher had said Buffy would win.

She shouldn't be spending so much time thinking about sweet Eden when there were other really frightening forces at work. But she couldn't help it. She'd always wanted to be a mother. Not tomorrow or anything, but someday. And then with the Slayer gig, she'd known it would never happen. Except it would. Somewhere in the future, she was the mother of a powerful, gorgeous little girl, one with a great big destiny of her own. Somewhere in the future, she and Spike were expecting another child, and who even knew what its story would be?

But she shouldn't even know about any of that. She shouldn't be thinking of it. She certainly shouldn't be pacing back and forth in front of the door to Spike's crypt.

Knock, damnit.

Don't. Just leave. It's too soon.

Then why am I here?

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He was in the lower level of his crypt, tidying things up. The day after he'd met Eden (his daughter, he thought again with wonder), he'd come back to his crypt and boxed up his odd, makeshift shrine to Buffy. It wasn't enough, now that he'd had a real taste of his Slayer, to only have these relics. Plus, he knew she'd come to him eventually, hoped she would. And it wouldn't be a good thing for her to see the silly shrine. Might give her the wrong idea, when all he'd wanted was to surround himself with her.

He hadn't believed she could really even want it, this future with him, with their girl, until she'd gone to pieces when Eden disappeared. He'd been just about knocked off his feet by the force of her emotions. He could feel it when he held her in his arms as she cried and cried—just how deeply she wanted this. Wanted this little girl. Wanted to be loved by someone who wouldn't leave, who would love her back just the way she needed.

Wanted him.

Or so he'd thought. But then days had passed, and she hadn't been around. He figured she needed time and space to sort it all out, so he'd stayed away. As away as he could, at least. He still needed to see her. He craved her. So he'd followed her on patrol, just to make sure she was safe. Just to see.

He hadn't seen her around with the Soldier Boy, but he didn't know if it was over between them. He'd been awake that morning of course, when Captain Cardboard had stopped by Buffy's house, had woken the minute the wanker knocked at the door. He'd heard it all. Any other time, he'd have felt smug at knowing that the Slayer was in the doorway, wearing his shirt in full view of her useless boyfriend. But all he'd felt then was his heart swelling with love and hope as she'd sent Riley away. But he didn't know if she would get scared and run back to the boy. He didn't know if she'd really have the nerve to tell White Bread the truth. If she'd have the nerve to tell her friends the truth. God, he hoped she would.

He'd tossed Harmony out good and proper. No use pretending with that stupid bint anymore. Why would he want to, when he knew what was heading his way? He'd thrown out the red satin bed linens too, and bought fresh ones, clean gray cotton. A fresh start. He ached to make love to Buffy in this bed, beneath these soft sheets, ached to show her that he could be tender with her. That there was more than desperate, wonderful, bloody amazing shagging on his crypt floor. That there was more to him.

He was tidying up his crypt, tidying up his life, for his Buffy. His wife. He really had to stop thinking of her that way. It was sure to piss her off, when she finally came around. He stopped his hands from where they'd been smoothing the soft new sheets on the four-poster bed, tilted his head to one side and listened. And breathed in. Speak of the devil…

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She ran her hand over the wood of the door, considering. They had a future together, as long as they didn't mess it up. He was hers if she wanted him. Wasn't he? Oh God, what if he had changed his mind? What if he didn't want it anymore?

Asher said that she saw the good in Spike. Was that true? Could she see the good in him?

She thought of his hands on her thighs, spreading her legs gently. How his hands had trembled against her. How he'd felt, inside of her. Her body was on fire just thinking of it. Being with him had made her feel like herself in a way she realized she never had before. She'd never felt so good as when she was all wrapped around him, never felt so connected to anyone, ever. He accepted her, he wanted her. He'd made every part of her feel beautiful, just the way she was.

There weren't many places in the world for a petite blonde California girl with a powerful killer hidden inside. But in his arms…somehow, it seemed like a place she belonged. The place she belonged.

She knocked on his door.

His eyes were guarded but hopeful when he pulled the door open. "Buffy," he said.

Her name, her given name and not "Slayer" still felt unfamiliar on his tongue, but he knew it was what she needed to hear. Her name on his lips. He motioned for her to come in and she stepped inside, cautiously.

She heard the door close, and turned to look into his eyes. Bright, intense blue looked right back at her. He was studying her.

He was so nervous, and he could feel that she was too, could hear the speeding thump of her heartbeat, see the slow flush rising in her cheeks. He stepped closer to her, and was pleased to see that she didn't step back. Another step, and he was close enough to feel her warm breath against his neck.

"Um, hi," she said, finally.

"Hello, luv."

"I don't…I…I'm..well, I'm here." Her eyes were round and she looked so innocent staring at him, waiting for him.

"Soldier Boy?" he asked, quietly.

"Over." He nodded, jaw clenched. He waited, wanting to hear more. Needing to.

"I told him everything," she said. His gaze was so intense and frightening that her first instinct was to turn away, but she fought it. Every inch of her body was tingling beneath the naked desire in his eyes, the adoration. The awe.

"I'm glad."

"I know."

"Do you...do you want me, Buffy?"

"I…I…you know I do."

"I'm about as far from perfect as it gets, pet," he warned her softly. "But if you want me, I'll try my best. Won't hurt you. Won't leave. Might need some pointers along the way, but I'll be my best for you, if you give me the chance."

She smiled at him, warily. "I…I want to, Spike, I do. I want Eden. I want us." She took his hand, held it against her heart so he could feel the flutter of it against his palm. It made him tremble. "I just don't know how it happens…how do we get there…from here?"

He lifted her chin with one finger and rested his forehead against hers. "Don't know," he said, his voice a whisper as the finger left her chin and traced her cheekbone. He lowered his head and kissed her softly, tenderly, but she could feel the restrained passion just below the surface, could feel her own blood crying out for him. He pulled away just long enough to whisper the words into the concave of her ear.

"But maybe it starts like this."

The End.