NA GRACH CROI


Disclaimer: I disclaim any ownership of the BTVS/ATS characters. Gee, I wish I owned them!

This is a big change for me, as far as writing Buffy’s character. I really like this fic, although others don’t seem to enjoy it so much. I’m hoping the readers here embrace it and enjoy it. Thanks,
Luv, Spuf

PROLOGUE:



My other fic, A Murder In Sunnydale is not doing ‘real well’ so I’m going to go back to my forte (so to speak for a while anyway).

This fiction is based, albeit ‘loosely’ on an older movie entitled ‘Three Violent People’. Instead of taking place in Texas, USA, after the Civil War, however, it will be in Ireland just after the Rebellion of 1916. (Yes, Sinn Fein and IRA, kind of).

The character of Charleton Heston is replaced by Spike O’Hara:

I disillusioned Irish Republican who has returned home to live in some kind of peace at his family home in the County of Antrim.

Anne Baxters character is replaced by Buffy Summers (of course):

A mysterious woman who shows up in Spike’s Belfast and ‘wows’ him immediately. The problem is…Buffy has a past that Spike might not appreciate. However, Spike is instantly ‘taken’ with Buffy and persues her relentlessly. Since Buffy is looking for a new life and a respectable future, she succumbs to Spike’s charms and marries him, immediately. (They really do love each other, promise!)

Gilbert Roland character (who was a wonderful character actor) is transformed from a Hispanic Ranch Hand in Texas and faithful Spike friend, into Xander Harris, Irish compatriate to the O’Haras:

His family has worked for the O’Hara’s for generations on their Irish farm.

Other players:

Angel O’Hara: Spike’s younger brother, a bitter, wounded man who wants everything Spike has, but cannot seem to attain.

Tara O’Hara: (hows that for pulling old names from a hat?!) Spike’s only sister and devoted to both of her brothers.

Willow: Simply Willow, a local towns woman who is enamored of Tara.

Anya Jenkins: Buffy Summers ‘old friend’ and sometime mentor? Okay, she’s a kind of female pimp. Which, in turn, leads us back to Buffy’s past.

Other Characters from BTVS/ATS will be appearing in the fiction.


Brief Summary:

‘Na Grach Croi’ loosely translates into English from Irish Gaelic as ‘The Loving Heart’.

Spike O’Hara is returning to Antrim County, Ireland after a stint in the Easter Irish Rebellion of 1916. He is an emotionally broken man, full of bitterness and anger for many reasons. When he stops over in Belfast before returning home to his beloved family farm, he meets Elizabeth ‘Buffy’ Summers.

Buffy has a troubled past of her own. She wants to start a new life, desperately. Spike and Buffy fall in love with each other, immediately and marry.

There is a problem, Buffy’s past will threaten their fragile marriage and their life together.

Please give this a read. It’s not so much about a period piece as it is about two emotionally scarred people who try and make a loving life together.

It’s not doing well on the other site and I would love some feedback. Hopefully, I can get my responses to the reviews working soon! Thanks, Luv Spuf

NA GRACH CROI



Chapter 1:


Spike O’Hara sat in the Belfast Pub, a nameless, almost joyless place, to him anyway. He had stopped in Belfast, temporarily that is, on his way home to his farm in Antrim County. His family were there, what was left of them; his sister Tara and younger brother, Liam, called Angel for some ridiculous reason. The O’Hara’s parents had passed away, years before and now it was only Tara, Angel and himself left to run the farm. After the let down that was the so called great Irish Rebellion that Spike had gotten mixed up in, he was a man without outside reason or purpose.

All’s that was left now, for Spike O’Hara anyway, was his siblings, their farm, which he technically owned, being the oldest, and this beer in his hand. That and the bitterness he felt, the anger and hate for the British Army, the Royals and England in general, even some for his own country. It was a a lot of hatred and resentment for someone to carry, but somebody had to, right?

“So,” Spike tried to start some kind of conversation with barkeep, just thrilled to be back in Northern Ireland, “what’s new around here, friend?” His voice was sarcastic, he realized that, but he’d been so immersed in the Fein and secrecy for well over a year, nearly two, that he wasn’t sure just how to converse, normally, with anyone. Not anymore. The barkeep smiled broadly, “welcome back, friend,” he greeted knowingly. “Wish it was a happier day for Erin, but…”

Spike smirked a bit, “yeah, that’s for sure, but that’s the way of it.” He shrugged, a little then scrunched his scarred left and right brow, “any entertainment about here?” Spike mumbled, almost embarrassed. “Entertainment?” the nameless keep asked with another smirk. “Been a while,” Spike chuckled, “you know what I mean, don’t act stupid, friend.” The barkeep grinned widely, “there’s a ‘place’ down the end of this block. Not too bad, not posh, of course, but it does the job.” Spike nodded in thanks, tossed the keep a pound and headed out the door to the ‘place’ at the end of the block.

Spike had gotten about half way to the end of the block when he spied a commotion on the other side of the street. It looked like some youngster, a female had been surrounded by four or so men, big ugly bastards by the look of them. Without a second thought to the pleasures at the end of the block, Spike set off for the other side of the street to ‘find out’ just what the hell was going on.

“Leave me be,” he heard a distinctly American voice, female, come from the center of the ring of men. “Come on, pretty,” one of the males urged the girl, “you’re a sight around here. Special, that is. Give us a little peek at the goods, we’ll play nice, honest.” This remark illicited a chorus of lusty laughs from the men and a near scream from the girl. “Back off boys,” Spike growled at the back of a particularly stupid looking bloke. A large, dark haired man turned to face Spike, his blue eyes narrowed into slits.

“None of your business, friend,” this jerk growled back at Spike. “We saw the lass first, take off.” Spike pondered the situation, carefully. ‘Well,’ he sighed to himself, ‘I could try and physically take on this cave man and his buddies, but I’d probably end up on my ass in less then five seconds. Or,’ he continued his silent reasoning, ‘I could get the girl out of this mess, my face, body and pride intact.’ He quickly opted for the latter option. “Well, friend,” Spike began evenly, lighting a smoke, “since this young lady is my sister, I do believe it is my business.”

Apparently, and very fortunately for Spike and the young female, some ‘chilvary’ still existed in Northern Ireland, most importantly, in Belfast. The big galoot who had stood up to Spike backed down immediately and motioned for his friends to move on down the street. “Sorry, friend,” cave man muttered with a shamed expression on his hung face, “thought the ‘lady’ was someone else.” With that, the huge man nodded at both Spike and the girl, then hied off down to join his friends.

The girl in question, who was the tiniest thing Spike had ever laid eyes on, finally turned around to face him. That was when he realized, Spike that is, that this was no mere girl, this was a woman, young yes, but a woman of about nineteen or so. ‘Fuck,’ Spike gasped, uncomfortably loud he felt, ‘she’s beautiful. Those green eyes, a man could get lost in them.’

“Thank you sir,” the little Goddess smiled at Spike, instantly mesmerizing him. “You’re, you are very welcome, lass,” he stammered back at her, unable to drag his gaze from hers. “My name is Elizabeth Summers, I am American, visiting my extended family, here in Belfast. And you are?” Spike blushed bright red and held out his left hand, quickly, “sorry,” he mumbled under his breath. “William O’Hara,” he continued, a little more self assured, “I mean, Spike O’Hara, that is.”



A/N: Short, sweet and to the point to set up the story. Okay, Spike is already mesmerized by Elizabeth ‘Buffy’ Summers. I needed to get these two together, as soon as possible, to get the plot of the story going. Things will move very fast with Spuffy, in fact, too fast. Thanks for reading, please review and tell me if I’m even near target with the personalities or the historical facts. Luv, Spuf

NA GRACH CROI


Chapter 2:


Spike, who had been some places, some hard, very hard places and some rather good ones in his life, knew a ‘treasure’ when he saw one. Elizabeth Summers, the dream before his blue eyes was certainly a treasure. ‘The’ treasure, Spike decided right then and there, one he had never found before, nor would again, he feared, must not be left to slip away from him. “Thank you, again, Sir,” the green-eyed beauty whispered softly to him as she turned to leave.

“Miss Summers!” Spike cried out in desperation, much to his embarrassment, “wait!” The young woman turned back to meet his gaze with her emerald green eyes, a soft, utterly feminine look in them, “yes Mr. O’Hara,” she asked evenly enough. “Walking,” Spike mumbled, sure he was bright red by now, “walking through the streets of Belfast, alone, Miss. It’s not the best thing, you know? You might run into those men again and…” Miss Summers smiled, ‘smile of an angel,’ Spike thought dreamily as she nodded warmly back at him. “You wish to escort me to my Inn, then, Mr. O’Hara? I do not know, Sir, a solo lady, such as myself? Left to blithely chat away with such a good looking stranger such as yourself? In the streets of Belfast? What would your family think, sir? Or the proper citizens of this town? What would my ‘extended family’ be left to ponder?”

Elizabeth, or Buffy as her late Mother had called her, knew a worthy man when she saw one. Probably, because she had seen so few in her young life, so very few, actually. At barely twenty-one, a supposed lady, Buffy had seen the worst sort of men society had to offer. Oh, some decent ones, but never one quite so ‘worthy’ as this blonde, blue eyed Irishman in front of her appeared to be. A rather, long lost feeling of sweet innocence seemed to overtake her and this Spike O’Hara seemed to be affected also.

“I thought you said you were here, visiting your extended family, Miss Summers?” Spike gave her a puzzled look. “Oh,” she stumbled over her quick words, “I was, they do not live here, actually, we met here. At least most of them. Actually,” Buffy thought a moment then continued, “only my own cousin Anya is still in town. She’s staying at another Inn, not mine. No room left there when I arrived. Sad, really, I certainly miss my cousin’s company at night and such. I do get lonely, of course.”

Spike grinned, he hoped it was not too obvious, his inner feelings that is. A little voice in his head began to nag him ‘this is a lady, Spike, not a whore. Don’t go getting any big ideas here. You want sex, go down the block and get your fill. But, then again, man, this is a rare beauty, this Elizabeth Summers. Hell, who the fuck needs a quick shag with a whore, when you can hold out for better things, like real love making, with this blonde angel in front of you?’

He, Spike, held out his still strong arm and offerred it to the little beauty in the pale blue dress, “may I?” he asked politely. “You may,” Miss Summers blushed as she took his arm with her slim one. “Oh, and Mr. Spike O’Hara,” she added warmly, “please do call me Buffy. It’s the name my own Mother, God rest her soul, gave me as a babe in her dear arms. An endearment, special to only her.”

They walked along, to Buffy’s temporary residence, arm in arm as they went. She knew the young man was taking his time, walking as slowly as he could to keep in her company as long as he might. It touched Buffy, really, that this handsome blue-eyed male would want to be with her, so openly in this rough and tumble town. Since the time she was seventeen years of age, Buffy had grown accustomed to men, all kinds of men. Men who wanted to possess her; men who wanted to kiss and pamper, but mostly men who wanted to fuck her. Fuck, that was the word that Buffy’s best friend and employer, Anya Jenkins, called it. ‘Men, these patrons of ours, they like to fuck, Buffy. They want to fuck all the time and they’ll pay up the nose for it. Especially, they’ll pay, men that is, to fuck a little darling like you, Buffy honey. You’re so beautiful and innocent looking, so tiny and fragile in appearance. Good thing,” Anya would chuckle wickedly, especially after a few belts of brandy, “you are such a prize my little Buffy. You’re my meal ticket, honey,” the older woman would chuckle, “my honey pot. The other girls I have, they’re nothing compared to you. This British Army, little Buffy baby, they’ll pay their weeks wages to put it in ‘you’ and come back next week for more!”

And, they had, Buffy thought ruefully, as she clutched onto the arm of this ‘worthy’ man who escorted her to her Inn. They, the British Army and every other paying customer before and some after, had paid up the nose as Anya had put it, to fuck Buffy every chance they got. However, after her stint in England, with Anya’s proud group of high class whores, Buffy had grown weary of it. She’d been a bought and paid for woman since she was almost eighteen, since her Mother had passed away in a hospital in New York. Buffy thanked God, every day that she had met Anya Jenkins, her future madam, on the corner of Park and 5th in that cold, unforgiving city of New York.

Buffy’s Mother, Joyce, had just passed away from the cough and she was lost, without hearth or home, or Father. She had been wondering, aimlessly, about New York and somehow stumbled upon Anya and a nice enough older gentleman leaving a rather posh eatery in the City. The man, who looked a bit like some dead President, gave Buffy a good eye over and Anya must have noticed. The older brunette woman immediately offerred Buffy a ride in the carriage that the obviously well-to-do man had ordered and she eagerly accepted.

Instead of just dropping Buffy off at some unnamed spot, that night, Anya and the ‘older man’ took her to his place in a rather nice hotel. When Anya excused herself from the apartment, to ‘rest’ the older man proceeded to teach Buffy a few things she might need to know for the future. Buffy and Anya walked out of that apartment, the next morning, leaving a very happy gentleman behind, and carrying a hundred dollars, each, in their pockets. Buffy had been with Anya’s ‘working ring’ since then, that is until lately, after England and the mess that happened there. But, Buffy, being the kind hearted and optimistic woman she was, overlooked her past and tried to move on to a more respectable future. This Spike O’Hara, as it turned out, or so Buffy thought, might just be the ticket.

“This is my Inn, Mr. O’Hara,” Buffy purred as she pulled her arm from his, ever so gently. “Thank you, so much, for coming to my rescue and escorting me here. I’ll leave you to your business, now, Sir,” she added, rather cleverly, since she realized that this Spike O’Hara had surely been without for quite a time now. “Tonight,” Buffy threw in a hopefully ‘affective’ pout, “I will sup in my own room. I’m leaving, the day after next, to return to my beloved America. For now,” she sighed dramatically, “I’ll go up to my room and pack, perhaps write in my journal and have just a sip of good wine.”

Buffy hoped to high heaven that she was behaving ‘coy’ enough to impress this Spike fellow. The word ‘coy’ had not been in Buffy’s vocabulary for a few years now and it felt odd, but somehow comfortable for some reason. For some reason, she really, really wanted him to stick around, maybe even ask her to supper with him. ‘Suppose he’s going to head off down to that trashy bordello, at the end of the block. Those other idiots, the smelly, nasty men who tried to take a peek were headed that way, I know it.’ Something inside Buffy ached, sorrowfully, or maybe enviously. For some reason, she did not want this O’Hara man to even think about paying for sex in that hovel at the end of the block. For some reason, Buffy wanted Spike O’Hara all to herself, but not in ‘just’ a sexual way. Something inside of Buffy, something deep and perhaps long forgotten was nagging at her, almost taunting her. An emotion that she had pushed down inside of herself, years before and succeeded in almost destroying with her own hardened heart.

“Miss Summers,” Spike began with hesitation. “Buffy, please, ‘Spike’ O’Hara,” she offerred as she batted her golden lashes at him. “Buffy,” he smiled warmly, “I like that endearment. Suits you, anyway, Buffy,” he continued, a little shyly, “are you engaged this evening?” He was rewarded with an innocent blush and a soft smile from this golden Goddess, “no,” she shook her head slightly. “I’m alone, tonight, like I said. Most of my extended family have left, back to other places and my dear cousin is otherwise engaged tonight.”


He was stammering, which gave Buffy some renewed hope that she might be able to twist this situation to her liking. “Would, would you have supper with me, Miss Summers, I mean Buffy,” Spike stammered with a blush. She scrunched up her brows in thought, almost real, sincere thought, which rather surprised her. “Tell me, Spike O’Hara,” Buffy murmered, “and be honest, Sir. Are you a married man?” This Spike blushed even brighter red, which Buffy found adorable and illicited a loud giggle from her. “No!” he stated firmly, “no, Buffy. I am not married, I swear.” She suddenly felt quite elated that Mr. O’Hara was a single man, and in a way, it pleased her, yet frightened her, a little that is.

“Yes, then, Spike,” Buffy purred silkily, “I’ll sup with you, tonight. Where shall we go? Should I dress rather up, or down?” She gave him a coquettish grin and again, batted her eyelashes. “I’ll only take you to the finest place in Belfast, Buffy,” Spike grinned at her warmly. Please though, dress as to what makes you comfortable, I’ll be dressed in a suit, of course. I’m sure anything you wear will be most appropriate, especially for a lady such as yourself.” Buffy smiled up at the charming blonde man and boldly touched his cheek with just the lightest stroke of her fingers. “Until tonight, Mr. O’Hara.”

Spike was so euphoric, that he almost forgot to tell Buffy what time he would call for her. “I’ll be here, at 6:30 PM, Buffy,” he grinned down at the beauty he’d be having supper with that very night. I certainly will look forward to it.” She rewarded him with the most dazzling smile he’d ever witnessed and turned to hurry up the stairs of the Inn she was staying at. ‘I’ll be damned,’ Spike whispered to himself with a happy grin, ‘maybe things are turning around for me!’


A/N: I promised someone some Spuffy loving in this chapter, but…okay, I felt it was a little too fast, even for this plot line. Please keep with the story, please!!! Thanks for reading and please review, luv, Spuf

NA GRACH CROI


Chapter 3:


A/N: Please give this is read? I promise it will get better. I thank you for your reading and reviews.

Buffy watched as the handsome Mr. Spike O’Hara nervously ate his supper. ‘He is as nervous as a cat,’ she surmised silently with just a tint of amusement. However, jaded as she was, Buffy found Spike’s shyness quite sweet and innocent really.

They, Spike and Buffy were eating a the poshest restaurant that Belfast had to offer, at the time. “How is your supper Miss Summers?” Spike asked politely, trying not to stare at his companion’s ample bosom that peeked out of her lovely emerald green, silk dress. It was the richest silk that he’d ever seen and set off Buffy’s eyes like jewels. The dress itself was in fine taste, seductive, yes, but lady like and suited Buffy to a tee.

“My supper is fine, Mr. O’Hara,” Buffy purred as she gave him a coy, but slightly saucy smile. “Please call me Buffy, as I have asked.” Spike cleared his throat, anxiously, “I am sorry, Buffy,” he stammered with a slight blush, “I’ll try to remember to go by your wishes from now on. But, please, call me Spike. I wish you would.” He finished, felt the heat of a blush creep up his face and quickly went back to his supper.

“Tell me, Spike,” Buffy began with a silky tone to her voice, “what does bring you to Belfast?” She was instantly regretful when she saw the look of pain pass over Spike’s lovely blue eyes.

“I,” Spike hesitated momentarily, then continued, “I’m returning home, to my farm im Antrim.” He gazed out of the massive window of the restaurant, “I’ve been away, on business you could say, I guess. Oh, the hell with it. I was part of Sinn Fein, Buffy,” he admitted finally, his head bowed in shame, “I got caught up in it, ran off from home and family to liberate Ireland. It was a lost cause, I’m afraid. Can we just forget this?”

Buffy nodded briefly then went back to her soup, which was truly delicious. After a few moments of silence, she caught Spike’s gaze and whispered, “if you felt that your cause was important, Spike, at one time anyway…then so be it. You should be proud, not ashamed, that you stood be your beliefs and fought for them.”

She picked up her soup spoon and went back to eating it, silently, noting the look of adoration and admiration for her on Spike O’Hara’s handsome face. Never had a man, especially such a fine one as this, given her a look of awe and respect as Spike O’Hara was doing, right at this moment.

“Who is your family,” Buffy dared to ask Spike, intent on changing the subject from the Rebellion. Spike gave her a bright smile and seemed to warm up to this line of discussion. Buffy felt pleased that she had brought up a subject that Spike O’Hara seemed to warm up to.

“I have a younger sister, Tara and a baby brother, Angel,” he responded. “They live at the farm my parents left us, although, my being the eldest, I guess I kind of run things. My folks, they passed on years ago and Tara, my little sister, she kind of takes care of things in the house and all. She’s a fine girl, Tara is. All the young men in the village have been after her for years, can’t imagine why she’s not wed before this. Tara is smart, lovely and kind. Angel, on the other hand, the baby of the family, is a little different.”

Spike tried to hide the look of pain that he knew always reared it’s ugly head when he spoke of his baby brother. “My brother, Liam, or Angel as my Mum named him, he’s a different sort. His taller then me, heavier, dark-eyed and haired, like my Mum. He’s,” Spike hesitated then gazed at the little blonde angel before him, “he’s crippled, Buffy. Lost an arm, his right one. I guess he is rather bitter about it.”

Buffy decided right at that moment not to ask Spike how his younger brother lost his arm. ‘Do not push him,’ she told herself sternly, ‘I’ve a feeling he’ll tell you more about himself before it’s over. Let him do it in his own time.’

“What about you, sweet?” Spike asked Buffy softly. “What can you tell me about yourself?” Buffy blushed bright red, something she had not done in years, especially in her line of work. “Me?” she asked this man innocently.

“I mean,” Spike paused then continued, “how could you have escaped marriage this long, Buffy? Such a beauty as yourself, must have had the lads beating your door down and such.” He gave her a warm smile and silently encouraged her to reveal some of her past with him.

“I am a widow, Spike,” Buffy responded softly. “I was married at seventeen, to an older man by the name of Scott Hope. He was a good man, true enough, but loved the drink. Scott was killed, in a riding accident on his way home from a good friend’s house. There was a bet, one that Scott, my late husband had to take on. He jumped a neighbor’s high fence, fell and broke his neck.” Buffy hoped that her lack of emotion did not alert Spike to her massive white lie.

He felt terrible, Spike that is, to have asked such personal questions of this wonderful lady. Then to receive such horrible, painful answeres was just to much.

“I’m sorry, luv,” Spike murmered to Buffy, sincerely, “I should not have…” Buffy interjected quickly, “It is all right, Spike. I was young, barely nineteen when my husband passed on. It was an arranged marriage by my parents to Mr. Hope. They had adjoining farms and had hoped to keep the land within our community in upstate New York. Sadly, before my husband’s death,” Buffy continued with small tears of regret, “we were not blessed with children. Perhaps, it is for the best, however. I hope you do not think ill of me, Spike?”

“No, dear Buffy,” Spike replied quickly, “I would never think ill of you. ‘Such a sad, tragic beauty,’ Spike thought to himself, ‘so young and sweet to have endured such a painful past.’ His poetic nature was coming out, something that he had not had to deal with for many, many years, and it both disturbed, yet delighted him.

Buffy was a little stunned, to find this kind man, a virtual stranger to herself, had not only accepted her tale of widowhood at face value, but had felt pity for her and her fabricated loss. She truly amost felt unworthy of his attentions. Almost, that is.

“So, Spike O’Hara,” Buffy purred as she glanced up at him from under dark lashes, “how had a handsome man like yourself escaped matrimony for this long?” He laughed outright, then shook his blonde head, “oh, they tried,” he continued gleefully. “In our village we have the matchmakers who try and set us all up into marriage. However,” he continued to chuckle softly, “none of the matches ever suited me, I’m afraid. None of the lasses were right for me. I’m glad, though,” he gazed meaningfully into Buffy’s eyes, “I’ve waited for the right lass to come along and I believe it’s time.” Buffy felt a shiver of delight, at his words, run up her spine.

Spike watched the young woman before him daintily eat her soup, ‘a real lady,’ he thought happily. Another baser part of himself was glad that Buffy was not a virgin and might be atuned to love making together. ‘After all,’ he thought to himself, ‘she’s got needs, right? Why shouldn’t I be the one to fullfill them? And she mine?” This pleasant thought filled his mind with wonderful visions as they finished their supper together. The instant connection he had felt with Buffy Summers overrode Spike’s nagging feeling ‘why does she go by her maiden name?’

After a long, delightful supper, Spike walked Buffy back to her hotel for the second time that day. He took her tiny hands in his strong, calloused one and kissed them both gallantly, “good night, sweet Buffy,” he murmered reluctantly. Spike glanced up the dark front lobby to the stairs that led to the rooms above them. There was such a longing inside of him, he was afraid Buffy could read every thought he had.

“I would ask you up, Spike,” Buffy murmered hesitantly, “however, it would be most improper for a lady such as myself…”

Spike cut off her excuses by crashing his lips down onto hers, passionately. He was pleasantly surprised when he felt Buffy return his kisses with equal ardor. Both of them seemed to simply forget where they were and that anyone at all might come across them, kissing and touching each other in what was basically an open doorway.

With masculine agressiveness, Spike pulled Buffy, by her wonderful little rump, up even closer to his own body. The dark night seemed to cover their desperate love making, the streets oddly empty tonight. Except for them, Spike and Buffy, there kissing and fondling each other, frantically.

“We must stop this,” Buffy finally broke away from Spike’s lips and his strong body. “It’s not right, here in public and all,” she sighed reluctantly, allowing him to bring her tiny hand to his lips in a chaste kiss.

“I’m sorry, luv,” he mumubled in dissapointment, “got carried away and all. Forgive me and I’ll say goodnight now.” Spike knew his face was covered in dissapointed and he felt a pout begin on his mouth. He was happily stunned to see Buffy’s look of dissapointment in her gorgeous green eyes.

“I am at fault as well,” Buffy murmered softly, then she tilted her golden head to the side, slight and continued, “perhaps,” Buffy whispered breathily, “there is someplace, nearby, Spike? Somewhere where you and I could go and continue this blissful activity in private?”


A/N: Please read this and give it a chance. It will get rather angstsy later, but first, much Spuffy in next chapter! Thank you, please review, good bad or indifferent. Luv, Spuf

NA GRACH CROI


Chapter 4:


A/N: I want everyone reading this to know that I thank you all so much. Also, I still cannot respond personnally to reviewers of this fic or any of my others, here. I can’t imagine what I did to the ‘my view review’ account?! Anyway, thank you. Luv, S


Spike and Buffy hurried down the dark, main street of Belfast on their way to his hotel, a couple with a mission. He wanted to get Buffy to his place and upstairs to his rather simple room as fast as possible. No way did he want her to change her mind about being alone together or the pleasurable activities he had in mind for them both. However, she did not seem to have any intention of changing her mind as she held Spike’s arm tightly with her tiny hands and allowed him to lead her to their destination.

When they arrived at the hotel, a much less posher place then Buffy was staying, Spike was a little embarrassed by the lower class accomadations. However, again, Buffy gave him an encouraging smile and urged him to take her upstairs to his room. Apparently his lady, Buffy, was as excited as he about the inevitable events that would take place upstairs in his humble room. That, Spike felt, was certainly enough incentive for him to forge a major lie to the hotel manager who now manned the front desk. “Hello, Finny,” Spike greeted Johnathan Finny, the elfin man who ran the night desk at the place.

“Mr. O’Hara,” Finny responded with a warm grin as he eyed Buffy with appreciation. “This is my wife, Elizabeth Sum…I mean O’Hara, Mr. Finny,” Spike lied, somewhat uneasily. “She’s joined me, here in Belfast to accompany me the rest of the way home to my farm in Antrim. Can’t tell you how happy I am to have by beloved Lizzy with me.”

The short, pleasant enough man behind the counter sized up both Spike and Buffy then grinned widely, “of course, Mr. O’Hara,” he responded warmly. “I’m glad for you sir, to have your wife by your side, finally after so long. I’ve been blessed to never be parted from my sweet wife, Amy, for even one day since we wed.”

Buffy watched as Spike took the hotel room key from this kind, rather smallish man, who had some of the kindest eyes she had ever seen. “It is lovely to meet you, Mrs. O’Hara,” Finny smiled sincerely at Buffy who responded with a warm ‘likewise, sir.’ Spike and Buffy, arm in arm, headed up the stairs, quickly, and to a room where she had no doubt she would experience a truly spiritual encounter. One, she thought sadly to herself, that she had probably never experienced before.

Once Spike opened the door of his hotel room, he practically pushed Buffy inside and slammed the door behind him. Before she could speak or maybe even bolt for the hallway, he locked the door and spun around to capture his little Buffy in his arms. One quick, but deeply passionate kiss between them caused Spike to realize that his golden Goddess had no intention of leaving his room or his presence for the night. If he had his way, Spike knew at that very moment, she would never leave his presence again.

“Mmmm,” Buffy whispered, honestly, into Spike’s lovely mouth as their tongues dueled with each others. He broke from contact with her to smile lovingly at her, his blue eyes dark as night, full of desire.

“Yes,” he whispered softly as he held her close, “very Mmmm indeed.” He crushed his lips to hers and continued to kiss her deeply, passionately and very, very well, at least Buffy thought so.

“Buffy,” Spike finally let them both up for air, “lie down on the bed with me, please luv.” He led her to the simple bed and laid her down, gently, still fully clothed on it before slipping off his coat and shirt. When he sat on the edge of the bed, he leaned down and pulled his boots off, then joined Buffy on the covers, pulling her closely to his hot, wanting body.

Buffy was watching him through half closed eyes, her need radiated off of her tiny body like waves and Spike felt like falling to his knees and thanking God right then and there. ‘God probably wouldn’t be to pleased about this, though, now would he, Spike?’ he shook his head, ruefully.

“Spike?” Buffy whispered in a breathy, needy tone, and all thoughts of God’s displeasure left him.


‘Buffy’s Reflections; Kind of a flashback’


Buffy had been a sexual maven since the tender age of seventeen years. At barely twenty-one, she probably knew more about the physical act of sex and all the aspects of it, then most fifty-year-old marrieds. However, it was the act of ‘love-making’ that Buffy was still a bit of a novice at.

Right at this moment, Buffy was a little nervous. Oddly enough, she was worried that she might not get this truly intimate experience, with this truly amazing man, right, or make it worthwhile for him. Oh, it was fine, of course, to be good at your job, your line of work. Your career, as most of the ‘girls’ in the ring of prostitutes called it. Sex for pay was the oldest profession in the world, everyone knew that and Buffy was an expert at it.

She never fooled herself, Buffy that is, when she was performing her ‘services’ for hire. Some of the girls in Anya’s employ liked to pretend that they were in at least ‘like’ with some of their more handsome, or youthful customers. Not Buffy, she never pretended to be anything with anyone of her clients, except a very good, well paid whore.

Which, is exactly what she had been for almost four years. Oh, there was one or maybe two young men who actually caught her eye; ‘special’ is what Anya called them. But, Anya had been protective of Buffy since day one. It was her employer, Anya Jenkins, that had hand picked every single one of Buffy’s customers.

Only the highest classed men for Buffy. A few sons of New York tycoons, or their fathers. Heirs to the manors of only the most admired British Lords and perhaps a Duke or two. Only the cleanest, most handsome British Officers for Buffy dear. Yes, Anya made sure that Buffy had only the best, most respectable clients to service, no question. Leave the more rakish, even brutal likes to the other girls in Anya’s employ. The men that liked violence with their sex, or oddities that Buffy would never, could never be tainted with.

Once, back in England, just before the gravy days ended there, Buffy was hired out, by her employer to a ‘special’ customer. The man, or actually ‘boy’ who Buffy was to entertain for the evening, had been brought to Anya’s business by his blue blooded friends. He was a virgin, his name was Andrew Arlington, and he was barely seventeen-years-old.

Of course, Anya, with her trained eye and good business sense, immediately targeted this Andrew fellow for Buffy’s bed. Normally, this night would have been Buffy’s night off. However, good-hearted Anya felt that this particular young man should be broken in by her beloved Buffy girl, her favorite employee. The boy, Andrew had touched Buffy’s frozen heart, a little anyway. That night, Buffy the sexual maven had given the shy, but eager Andrew the ride of his young life.

A few months later and another evening when Buffy was supposed to be ‘off’ from her skills, she had a visitor. Anya had led a good looking, dark haired man up to her room. The man, probably less then twenty years nodded at her with a serious expression. After Anya had left the two in private, Buffy asked the young man what he wanted for the evening. She remembered it well, that night when this stranger, Buffy was used to strangers of course, came to her lonely room.

“I’ve come to give you something Miss Elizabeth,” he stammered almost shyly.

“What’s your name Sir?” Buffy had asked with puzzlement, “what do you have for me?” The man smiled softly and retrieved something from his military coat pocket.

“My name isn’t important, Miss Elizabeth,” he offerred evenly, “it’s the something I’ve brought you that’s the important thing.” He then held out a gold chain that held a locket at the end of it. “A comrade of mine,” the man mumbled reverently, “a boy really, who probably had no business playing soldier. This was his. We served together, he and I, in the Battle of Somme. I made it out, Andrew Arlington didn’t.”

Buffy gasped and clasped at her heart, a sharp pain shot through it like a knife. “Andrew Arlington,” she whispered.

The man nodded sadly, “he was a good lad. A bit of a bumbler, but a good heart and very brave at that. He was killed, in July, along with a lot of good men. His things, the ones he left behind, this simple,lovely little locket was in with them, with a note. Said whoever could was to give this to a Miss Elizabeth Summers of London, England. I had to come, Miss,” the young man stammered shyly, “to do poor Andrew’s last wishes.” He was obviously quite aware of just who Buffy was and what she did for a living.

“Andrew,” Buffy murmered, unable to look the young, earnest man in his dark eyes, “he had no wife? No sweetheart or even a sister to give this beautiful locket to?” She reached out and took the jewelry from the man, gently as she could.

“No, Miss,” he said sadly, “apparently not. However, I know he’d be happy to know that his blonde ‘angel’ got the locket. That’s what his letter said, his kind of will I guess. You were that; his blonde angel.”

It was that night, back in London, that Buffy began to rethink her position in life and just exactly what she had become. After the good young man left, the one who never revealed his name, Buffy sat on her unhappy bed and wept for the entire night. Yes, after that horrible, sad night back in London, Buffy began to rethink everthing, all over.

She decided, then and there, Buffy did, that ‘she’ wanted to be the sweetheart, the true lover and wife of a good man. Buffy, in her hardened heart decided right that night, that she wanted a normal life, she deserved it. Did she not?


Spike was tenderly removing Buffy’s beautiful forrest green dress then her lacey, lovely knickers. When he had laid Buffy on the bed, she discreetly removed her slippers and raised her arms to make his undressing her much easier.

“You are beautiful,” he whispered in awe as he removed her camisole and saw her milky white, plump breasts. They were perfect. Not overly large, but just the right size for him. The nipples were a dark, dusky pink and just begged to be kissed and suckled. Spike had every intention of paying the proper amount of attention to those gorgeous mounds, that and Buffy’s whole scrumptious silken body.

Buffy lay back on the comfortable bed, her whole body hummed in joy as Spike undressed her. His indigo, dark blue eyes seemed to worship her and she was most excited and arroused by that. When he’d finished removing her clothing, all of it, Spike stood up and pulled his remaining clothing from his body. “You’re beautiful,” he had whispered to Buffy.

“So are you,” she replied honestly, reaching out her hand to his. He took her hand, kissed it tenderly and stretched his naked, lovely body out over hers. “Buffy,” he moaned as he rubbed his warm, taut body on hers, “God, sweet, so glad you’re here with me.”

She giggled softly, such a lovely sound to Spike and one he swore he’d illicit from her a million times in their lifetime. “Make love to me Spike,” Buffy purred into his ear as he nuzzled cheek with his and ran his hands gently over her body.

“Oh, I will, sweet. All night.” he murmered huskily to her just before he closed the gap between their lips and kissed her deeply. It wasn’t an urgent kiss, not like their earlier ones, it sweet and tender, promising. Reluctantly, Spike broke contact with her beautiful mouth and ran his lips, lightly on her cheek and jaw, then down to her neck. His mouth lingered on a particular spot on his Buffy’s left side of her neck. Everytime he kissed, suckled or nipped at that point, she gasped, little squeaks of breath, really, and it delighted Spike.

Finally, he left that pleasure point and targeted her left breast that was just begging for his attention. If Buffy had gasped at his ministrations to her neck, she certainly moaned with pleasure when he kissed and suckled her beautiful breasts. “Spike,” she gasped, her breath was ragged with desire and he felt her hands clasp at his blonde head in desperate need.

“Just getting’ started my sweet,” he smiled up at her, pleased she was watching him as he pleasure her. To prove his point, Spike grinned and began to trail soft, wet kisses down Buffy’s taut tummy to the golden curls that covered her sweet cunny. Before he began, Spike looked up to silently ask Buffy’s permission to make love to her with his mouth, ‘God, please say yes,’ he begged her silently. ‘I have to taste my angel, totally.’

“Please, Spike,” she rasped, “I want you to make love to me like that.” Her soft breathy pleas, so filled with desire and heat gave Spike all the encouragement he needed. “Watch me then, baby,” he ordered gently as he lowered his lips and began to lick and kiss her cunny, lovingly.

Buffy moaned in pure pleasure as her lover worked his magic between her thighs with his lovely mouth. “Oh, God, Spike,” she hissed hoarsely, “that’s so good, so right. Please don’t stop, please.”

She felt Spike shake his head, almost roughly between her thighs, stopping only to assure her that there was no way in hell he was going to stop now. “You’re heavenly, my Buffy,” he whispered huskily, then went back to his lovemaking.

It was barely minutes when Buffy was writhing and moaning in her estatic release. Spike must have sensed and felt her orgasm because when she was over it, he tenderly kissed her wet core and gently crawled up her body. When their lips met again, Buffy could taste herself on his mouth; it intoxicated her and she understood why Spike was so elated. ‘He’s thrilled that he gave me this,’ she realized in awe. ‘He’s so proud that I’m happy.’ It touched her heart in a way that nothing else ever had.

“Need to be in you,” he almost growled into her mouth, delighted when Buffy embraced his ass and pulled him even closer to her tiny, beautiful body.

“I need you William,” Buffy whispered in response. Without hesitating, Spike buried his shaft into Buffy’s sweet, hot heat and began to slowly pump in and out of her, praying to God that he lasted long enough to please her.

“You feel like heaven, Buffy,” he gasped hoarsely, “like pure, sweet heaven.” She did it again, giggled softly in pleasure, and Spike nearly lost it right then. “Trying to hold on, sweet,” he moaned lowly as he pulled half way out and slowly pushed back into her tight, honey tasting cunny. “You just feel so amazingly good, sweet,” he whimpered.

“Mmmm,” Buffy moaned, “so do you, William.” She could not help but use this man’s given name, it suited him so much better then his nickname. Especially when he was making such sweet love to her, taking her to wonderful places she had never, ever been before. Not like this heaven; not for Buffy, ever before.

Back there, in that ugly place that was her past, she never experienced such a spiritual moment, so much unconditional pleasure. ‘Stop remembering the ugly darkness,’ Buffy ordered herself, slightly angered. ‘This is goodness, this is the light I’ve been searching for. Let it go Elizabeth.’

“I cannot hold back anymore,” Spike groaned, “cum for me, sweet, please. Cum with me,” he ordered huskily as he felt his Buffy let go and do exactly as he told her. Their mouths crashed together and Spike felt himself cum, a powerful, overwhelming orgasm that ripped through him and Buffy both. He realized that even though they were kissing, deeply and passionately, their sounds of release were probably being heard by half the hotel occupants in their rooms. ‘Who gives a fuck,’ he thought to himself, ‘I’m with an angel, I’ll scream my pleasure if I want.’

When their coupling was finished, complete, at least for this first time, Spike collapsed on top of Buffy, spent. He was so careful not to crush her fragile body with his weight, but she pulled him to her, forcefully. Her actions told him that she could handle his weight and wanted him as close to her as possible, as he wanted her with him. Spike could not have been happier, then if someone told him he had just died, woke up in Heaven and was in the presence of God himself.


A/N: Okay, I wrote another chapter because I wanted to get Spike and Buffy together, finally. I hope readers will enjoy the Spuffy in chapter and the rest of the fiction. Angst is coming in a few chapters. Thanks for reading, please review. Luv, Spuf

NA GRACH CROI



Chapter 5: ‘I ionuin Anam’


Elizabeth Summers, aka ‘Buffy’ to those she truly cared for and who truly cared about her, had decided back in London, to leave the ‘life’ for good. Go back home to America, maybe even get out to California and set up a business of her own. Not ‘that’ kind of business mind you, Buffy was through with ‘the profession’ but maybe a dress shop of some kind.

She had heard wonderous things about the City of Angels in California. Buffy had saved her hard earned wages and there was enough to begin a venture of her own. There was a lot of opportunity there and little chance of anyone from the old days being around. Men who could recognize her, or at least part of her.

However…as she lay in this rather modest hotel bed, wide awake while her lover, a most handsome Irishman, slept peacefully beside her…

‘Get up, get dressed and get the hell out of here,’ Buffy ordered herself. She was practical, at least most of the time, even now when she was entangled in Spike’s strong, luring embrace. ‘You’ll only hurt him. Make his life miserable and he’ll turn out sorry for the day he met you.’ Buffy’s inner voice taunted her, tried to warn her as she fought to pull herself away from Spike’s warm embrace and make her escape from this room.

‘I’ll leave a note,’ she thought to herself as she took in his contented, happy smile in rest. ‘Tell him that I changed my plans, took the earlier train, today to the West Coast. Booking a passage back home to my America.’

Buffy slipped out of Spike’s strong arms, noting that he frowned in his respose, momentarily, then seemed to relax again. She was good at ‘sneakery’ Buffy was. Had to be stealth as a jungle cat sometimes. It suited her past life afterall.

She had her camisole, pantaloons and shoes on already and Buffy was just about ready to pull on her dress when she heard him. “Where you off to sweet?” he nearly whimpered. Buffy turned and faced her ‘lover’ perhaps the only man to really ‘earn’ that title in her young life.

“Thought I should get while the getting was good, Spike,” she murmered while she averted her eyes from his honest indigo blue ones. “Thought maybe you might prefer me gone, you know when…”

“Gone!” he cried in shock, “hell no! I don’t want you gone, sweet Buffy. Not when I’ve just found you. And please, dear heart, do not call me Spike now. Not after last night and how sweet my name of Will flowed from your lovely lips.”

He reached out his bare arms to her, pleading silently for her to return to the bed, and him. His expression was so hopeful and loving that Buffy felt like she’d died and gone to heaven, to see a man show that kind of worship and respect for herself. ‘Respect,’ she realized in stunned awe, ‘he respects me.’

Spike was totally confused, his mind and heart in an upheaval of emotion. He had never felt this way about a woman before in his life and there had been a few, certainly. Mostly paid whores for comfort, but a few women considered decent. However, never, ever a woman like Buffy Summers. Even the fancy, high class women he’d seen and been exposed to in England didn’t compare to this woman before him now. In her white lacy knickers and little boots. ‘God, I want her so bad I can taste her,’ he sighed dreamily as he held his longing arms out even more so to her.

Buffy had a split second decision to make; two options to choose from. She could either continue to pull on her clothes and make her clean get-a-way from this good man and his loving heart, or, she could strip back down, slide back into his bed and take comfort in his strong, worthy arms. It took about one second for Buffy to make her choice and she eagerly divested her underthings to climb back in bed beside her Will.

They lay in the bed, their bodies so close that it was hard to tell where one began and the other ended. “Buffy,” Spike murmred as he twirled her golden hair with his finger, “what do you say we go out for breakfast. A huge and wonderful breakfast, then come back here and make love all day and night?” His eyes were half closed in pleasure at the thought of it, their breakfast then love making. Buffy snuggled down into Spike’s chest and nodded silently.

The spell was broken, momentarily though, when Buffy whispered sadly, “tomorrow, Will. My train for County Donegal leaves at 10:00 AM, precisely and I must be on it to catch my ship for America.”

Spike felt like he’d been kicked in the gut and he wanted to be physically sick. He mustered up his courage and stated evenly, “if I’ve my way, Buffy darling, you will not be on that train to Donegal County tomorrow. Or any day.”

“What are you saying, Will,” Buffy asked meekly, although she had a pretty good idea. “I’m saying, my darling Buffy,” he nuzzled her head and whispered softly, “that I want you. All of you for myself. I want you to marry me, Buffy Summers. Be my wife and come home with me to Antrim, to my farm. Light my life up, Buffy, always, like you have since I first met you. Be the mother of my children, a ton of them sweet. It’s not fancy, I know that and I won’t lie to you or make you false promises of riches and a life of ease. But I’ll give you my heart, Buffy dear, all of it. Might as well, you’ve captured it anyway, from the moment I saw those emerald green eyes of yours.”

“Oh Mother of God, Will,” Buffy gasped, looking into his honest, sincere eyes, “are you sure?” William nodded eagerly and clutched Buffy so close to him she was sure she might not take another breath. “But,” she began.

“No buts, little one,” he chuckled warmly, stroking her bare arm with his long fingers, “I felt the connection between us when we first laid eyes on each other. It’s the magic, Buffy. The magic between a man and a woman when they’re meant to be together.”

“You,” he continued warmly, “are ‘I ionuin Anam’ truly,” he finished as he kissed the tip of her nose. “From the moment I saw you, Buffy.”

Buffy raised her golden brow and looked at her lover with wonder, “I what?” she asked innocently. Spike began to chuckle warmly and pulled her even closer to him.

“Well,” he paused to tuck a loose blonde strand of her hair behind her little ear. “Loosely translated from the old language it means ‘My beloved Soul’ and Buffy,” he added seriously, kissing her lips chastely, “that’s what you are to me.”

She was stunned beyond words and could say nothing but a surprised ‘gosh!’ “So,” William smiled at her tenderly, “what to you say my love? Will you marry me?” He waited with baited breath for her answere, hoping it was yes, fearing it might be a no.

Buffy worried her bottom lip, a thousand thoughts swept through her excited mind. ‘Antrim, Ireland,’ she pictured it, ‘remote, rural villages, full of warm hearted people who probably have never left it’s borders. No one there would know me, recognize what I once was. Why not? Do it, Buffy,’ her mind and most importantly her heart urged her. ‘You know this man is perfect for you, you know your heart belongs to him, did from the moment your eyes met his. Say yes, Buffy Summers.’

“Yes,” Buffy responded softly as she ran her slim fingers down Will’s strong left arm, “I’ll marry you, William O’Hara. I’ll be your beloved Soul.”


A/N: Short chapter. Does anyone else see great Spuffyness here? Yeah! (however, I’m afraid there are factions in Antrim who would ‘try’ and destroy out dynamic duo.) Oh, I didn’t mention earlier, but Rupert Giles will be the village Priest in Spike’s village and an ally for Buffy! Thanks for reading, please review. Luv, Spuf

NA GRACH CROI



Chapter 6: ‘iontach gra’ (Wonderful Love)


Buffy and Spike had their great big, wonderful breakfast out, at a local diner. When they finished, they hurried back to his hotel and crawled back into bed to make their wedding plans.

“We’ll go find the local Priest,” Spike stated matter of factly, “have him wave the Banns and…” He noticed a frown on his beautiful Buffy’s sweet face.

“William,” she whispered softly, her tone unsure and almost timid, “I was raised Catholic, it’s true. However, I have not been a good practicing Catholic in years. Bitterness, I guess, for my Mother’s death and my marriage to my husband. He, he was not Catholic and…”

Spike shook his head, “doesn’t matter,” he shrugged indifferently, “I could care less what kind of practicing Catholic you are. I love you, you love me, don’t you Buffy lass?” He felt a euphoric sense of relief when she nodded eagerly. “Then it’s of no importance, you’re a widow and I’m a single man. There’s nothing to keep us from marrying, this evening, if you want.”

“I want you to go fetch your cousin, Buffy. I know you’ll want her to stand up for you,” William stated as they dressed to go talk to the Priest.

Buffy flinched and turned her face away from William quickly, “she, uh, left already. This morning,” she lied a little too easily. “We were supposed to go back together to the coast. I left word with her that if for some reason I didn’t meet her at the train, she was to go on without me. I’d catch up later. Besides, Anya is my late husband’s relative, not mine.”

She quickly returned to her dressing and let the matter drop.

Spike was confused, a little surprised that a woman that was related to Buffy would just take her, not showing up, in stride. Especially at a train? He shrugged, figuring that it was as Buffy said, this cousin was her late husband’s relative, not hers, therefore they were not really close at all.

“You know, William,” Buffy stammered a little as he led her down the street of Belfast, their arms entwined. “I thought maybe you could go to speak to the Priest alone, for now anyway. I’m thinking I should go to my hotel, pack my things and find a suitable wedding dress?”

He gave her an odd look but then smiled widely. “I’d rather go with you,” he stated affectionately, “but I guess you want to keep your wedding garb hidden until the vows. Tradition and all that?” She nodded eagerly, a little ashamed at how easily he had bought her story.

“Meet me downstairs, at my hotel, in an hour, William,” Buffy smiled coyly. “I’ll be packed and have a proper dress chosen to marry in. I can change at the parrish, right?” Spike grinned down at his bride to be, “right,” he murmered, giving her a peck on her cute nose.

The minute Buffy had left William and hurried up to her own hotel room, she realized that her note had gotten to it’s destination. When she opened the hotel room door, she found her best friend and employer, Anya Jenkins waiting for her. As usual, Anya was sipping an alcoholic drink, as usual, reading some kind of magazine and sitting on Buffy’s bed.

“Buffy baby!” Anya exclaimed with glee when her favorite employee entered the room.

Buffy didn’t hesitate, she plopped down next to Anya, on the bed, and rested her blonde head in the brunette’s shoulder.

“Guess what?” she asked her ex-employer softly. The older woman leaned back and eyed her Buffy, carefully. “What? You decided to return to America, to New York? With me?” she asked hopefully.

“I can’t,” Buffy smiled and took Anya’s larger hand in her tiny one. “I’m getting married, Anya.” The silence was deafening.

“I see,” Anya whispered. “Who?” the madam then asked, a slight frown on her still winsome face.

“A good man,” Buffy replied honestly. “A kind, handsome and really good man. And I’ll be a good wife, I promise.” Buffy snuggled aback down into her patroness’s arms and murmered, “I’m sorry, Mamm,” she sighed, using the endearment that Anya had asked her to, years before. “But,” Buffy continued, “I know I’ll be happy in Ireland, with my William. He is a good man, he’s in love with me, he’s everything I’ve ever wanted. Please, Mamm, be happy for me?”

The older, darker woman again eyed her ‘pet’ with her deep, brown eyes, “Buffy, I am happy for you. Truly. I’ll miss you, desperately and all the fun we could have had, back in New York, raising hell, though.”

Buffy smiled with true affection up at her protectress, “yeah, we could have though, huh?” Anya nodded, soberly.

“Buffy, baby,” Anya began again, her voice a little emotional, “this man, this Irishman. Is he a proud man?”

Buffy grinned, “very,” she answered simply. “Oh,” Anya muttered, more to herself. “Can I give you some advice, my sweetie,” Anya continued without hesitating. Buffy nodded her consent.

“Be careful, my darling Buffy,” Anya warned gently. “Take your proud man, your husband to be, back to his home and live with him in peace. Never look back at your past life. Our life together in those hard places. Never give him any reason to doubt your love and loyalty. And, honey,” she continued sternly, “never ever tell him about your past. If he is the proud man you say he is, the truth will doom your marriage.”

With serious green eyes, Buffy stared at Anya, her very best friend, more like a sister she never had, for the last four years.

“How do you know this?” she asked Anya.

“Because,” the older woman shook her head, sadly, “I was married once. The truth? It ruined my life, Buffy. When I was really young,” Anya continued without letting Buffy interject, “I met a handsome, young merchant’s son.” “

“He wad a proud young man. In Philedelphia it was. I was only sixteen. Somehow, this man, my ‘Prince Charming’ got the idea I was something I was not. Someone led him to believe I was a well-to-do young girl, with a solid family and a future.”

Buffy was stunned, Anya had never told her this story before and it was a little disturbing, to say the least.

“My man,” Anya continued sorrowfully, I won’t say his name, he swept me off my feet and we eloped. His parents were furious, to say the least, and he defied them to live with me in a less then upscale flat in New York. Time, money, or lack thereof, caused friction between us. I suppose that finally, my husband decided he would be well rid of his ‘albatross’ that I had become.”

She looked so sad, so terribly unhappy, and Buffy clasped Anya’s hand tightly in hers.

“Finally, when my husband realized the truth, that I was merely a very good actress, not upper class at all, that is, he left me one night. I never saw him again, Buffy. However,” Anya flinched in emotional pain, “he left me with a memory all right.”

“A child. I was pregnant when he left me. But, I never let anyone know about it. Went to the neighborhood midwife; they know things,my girl. Anyway, when I went to the midwife, I was with child. When I left her house, days later, I was not with child,” Anya shrugged.

“It was soon after that, that the same midwife put me in touch with a fairly nice older gentleman. Someone to take care of me until I was well again. Which, he did.”

Buffy sucked in her breath in shock. “You have done such things? Exposed yourself to the risk of your own death to…” she asked in disbelief.

Anya nodded, “it’s wise to know of such things in our business, my sweet girl. In case the methods don’t work,” she stated evenly, stroking Buffy’s long honey blonde hair.

“I see,” Buffy responded simply.

“I’ll miss you Anya,” Buffy finished as she stood up to give her ex-employer one last hug.

“I’ll miss you, Buffy baby,” Anya sniffed as she wiped tears from her brown eyes.

“Thank you Mamm. Under the circumstances, you’ve been more then good to me.” Buffy grabbed her packed suitcase and left her room in silence.

They were married, Buffy and Spike O’Hara, in a simple, witnessed ceremony at the local parrish. The Priest, Father Malone, never even batted his dark lashes in dissaproval as he said the wedding mass over two virtual strangers. Father Malone’s dowdy housekeeper witnessed the wedding for Buffy, while a parrish gardner stood up for Spike. Buffy had dug up a simple white sheath dress, simple but appropriate enough, through some miracle, to wear for her simple wedding.

After the wedding mass, Spike carried his bride over his hotel door threshhold and lovingly lay her on their bed. “It’ll be fine, lass,” he stated warmly at his lovely bride.

“Yes, William,” Buffy agreed quickly, “it will be fine.”

That night, after supper and a marathon love making session, Spike and Buffy lay in the bed, sated and happy together. Buffy noted a sense of change in her William’s demeanor.

“What is it?” she asked quietly as they together, wrapped in each other’s embrace. She felt him tense just a bit, then finally he sighed loudly, his words heavy with regret.

“It’s about my brother, Buffy. Liam, or Angel as he’s called now.”

Buffy gazed into her husband’s lovely blue eyes and noted a look of sorrow and confusion there.

“Angel?” she asked softly, stroking his chiseled cheek lovingly. William nodded quickly then ran his long slim fingers down Buffy’s arms.

“My brother, Angel, he’s a troubled young man, luv.”

She wondered what this had to do with ‘them’ and their wedding night, but Buffy waited, quietly, patiently to hear what her new husband had to say. William turned to lie on his back, bringing Buffy up with his left arm to lie on top of him. He cuddled her little body to his strong, warm one and nuzzled her neck with his lips.

“Angel,” Spike began carefully, somewhat confused as to where to start. “I’ve got to tell you this Buffy, hope you understand and all. Maybe you will, more then others in my life.” He felt her nod against his own neck and screwed up the courage to continue his sad tale.

“My brother, Angel,” Spike tried to speak loudly enough, but every time he spoke of Angel, it was quite difficult. “He’s my baby brother, the youngest of us kids. Tara, my little sis, is just about a year younger then me, but Angel is almost four years younger. Always felt more then responsible for him, Angel that is. Anyway, years ago, when we were still youngsters, I was about fourteen so Angel was only ten or so, anyway, he’d run off from the farm house. Being I was the oldest, I was in charge, as my folks, I’ll explain them later, lass, they were in town for shopping.”

Buffy watched her new husband’s blue eyes grow dark with some kind of emotional pain.

“My brother, Angel, he’s always been a little hot headed. After me Mum and Dad left for town, Angel took off for the hills. There’s a few old mines out there, copper mostly, but we’ve been told since were were babies not to go that direction. Too dangerous and all. Anyway, Angel, being who he was, headed off, on a run for the old mine shafts. Wanted to go exploring and such.

I went after him, Tara, my little sis was weeping like and old maid and begging me to find our darling Angel. So, I did. Followed the little fool to the mines, tried to persuade him to come back with me before there was trouble. But, he wouldn’t listen. Angel ran from me, through the very places our folks had warned us against. It wasn’t a moment before Angel fell into an old mine shaft, yards below to the bottom. I think I knew before old Angel did that he was seriously hurt, damaged beyond help.”

Buffy gasped in shock and clutched her William closely to her. “Go on,” she encouraged him, stroking his arm and snuggling closer to his body.

“Angel, he was whimpering, down at the bottom of the mine. I scurried around and found some old rope, layin’ about. Tied one end to a tree stump, the other to my waist and lowered myself to the bottom of the shaft, only to find my brother, his poor arm half torn off. He was broken up, physically, pretty good. I pulled my beloved brother up from that mine shaft, to safety, I guess anyway. I think Angel would have preferred that I left him there to die. The village Doctor couldn’t save his arm, left my brother a cripple at ten. Everyone, in the village, my folks and even Tara…they thought me a hero. But not Angel. He’s hated me from that day til now, for saving his life, but not his arm.”

Buffy lay, staring at her husband with so much love and sympathy. “My poor Will,” she cried as she buried her golden head into his bare chest, “how awful for you. To have thought to save your brother’s life, but be hated for it. By Angel himself. They thought you a hero, your family and neighbors. But you,” she gasped with total understanding, “you know how your Angel thinks of it. Angel feels you’ve condemmed him, doesn’t he?”

Spike looked at his wife in shock, ‘she understands,’ he wondered in disbelief. ‘My Buffy realizes the hell that Angel’s gone through, what I allowed by pulling him out of that fucking hole in the hills.’

“I love you, Buffy dear,” Spike whispered in her little, warm ear. “Love you, Will,” she sighed in contentment as she cuddled up closer to him.

A/N: Next chapter, Buffy and Spike get to his farm and village. Everything will be fine, for a while. There is evil afoot in the village, but not all evil, as we well know, is of the supernatural kind. Some, is human generated. Thanks for reading, please review.
Luv, Spuf

NA GRACH CROI



Chapter 7: ‘alainn beannacht’ (Beautiful Blessing)


After their quick ‘honeymoon’ Spike and Buffy made their way, by train to the County of Antrim in Northern Ireland. Spike’s family farm was located just on the outskirts of Balleycastle and he spoke of it with fondness to Buffy. Their trip, which took hours, did not seem quite long enough for Buffy. The words that Anya had told her were haunting Buffy, making her unsure and ill at ease about her new life.

“You’ll love the farm, Buffy luv,” Spike reassured her, dozens of times, “I love it. So will you. Promise.”

Buffy wanted to believe Spike as she had fallen for this handsome Irishman from the minute she laid eyes on him. However, the logical part of her mind kept questioning her decision to marry this fine man and become a part of his life.

‘You’re a fool, Buffy,’ the irritating voice kept taunting her, ‘to think that some day, some how, some one from your past will not come forward. Destroy your new life with this man.’

Buffy brushed the troubling voice aside, ‘who in world would be near Balleycastle, Ireland, that I could possibly know?’ Her own questions to the annoying voice in her head put her mind at ease, at least temporarily.

The couple arrived in the Balleycastle train station, not twelve hours after they left Belfast together. Of course, since Spike had not wired ahead, there was no one to meet them at the train. If Buffy thought this odd, she made no mention of it.

‘Better this way,’ she assured herself, ‘to get to the farm, unobserved by anyone.’

It seemed that this was the way it was to be, that is until a jovial, warm voice called out in greeting to Buffy’s husband, Spike.

“William O’Hara,” came the happy voice in greeting, “will you not stop to say hello to your own parrish Priest, boy?”

Spike turned to see Father Rupert Giles, the man who had been as close to his own flesh and blood, rush up to bid him ‘hello.’

“Hello, Father,” Spike greeted the fine looking man, in his long black robes. “It’s good to see you, sir.”

Father Giles eyed the young O’Hara up and down, “no worse for the wear I see, my son,” he chuckled.

Spike looked down at his feet, then seemed to suddenly remember his bride, Buffy, beside him.

“Father,” Spike began shyly, “this is my wife, Buffy Summers, O’Hara that is. We married, just yesterday in Belfast.”

Buffy was not one to feel very ‘comfortable’ around religious people. Especially since her past lifestyle was everything opposed to what these ‘priests and preachers’ might consider Christian and such. However, this friendly, warm priest, Father Giles, gave Buffy such an affectionate smile, that she could not resist extending her tiny hand to him.

“Hello Father Giles,” Buffy greeted the man, somewhat shyly, “it’s nice to meet you. William has said wonderful things about you.”

Father Giles gave Buffy a quick once over, then smiled again, kindly. He took Buffy’s little hand in his own and grinned at Spike with genuine affection.

“Well, boy,” Father Giles stated evenly, with another warm smile, “I can see you have done well for yourself. Your bride is a true treasure, no question. About time an O’Hara married and settled down.”

Buffy blushed bright red, but decided right then that she would be great friends with this particular Priest, Father Giles.

“A treasure she is, Father,” Spike smiled at Buffy and took her hand again in his. “I’m am truly blessed to have found her.”

Shaking off his daze of wedded bliss, at least for a moment, Spike peered at Father Giles and asked with hesitation, “how’s my brother, Angel?”

Father Giles, who was quite a fine looking man, with a smile of a Saint, Buffy thought anyway, suddenly took on a scowl to his lovely mouth.

“Your brother, Angel,” the Priest snorted, quite unholy like, “is as always. A bitter man, twisted in form and soul, my son, William.”

Buffy watched Spike’s own beautiful smile turn down into a frown as he took in the Priest’s words. She felt so helpless, for a moment, then reached out and again clasped her husband’s large hand in hers.

“My husband is a sensitive soul, Father,” she whispered to the Priest, “he has told me of his poor brother’s sadness. I hope I can comfort my William and perhaps help mend the rift between the brothers?”

Father Giles bestowed the most warm, affectionate grin on Buffy, giving her a sense of true strength and hope.

“You’re a fine young woman, Buffy O’Hara,” the Priest murmered as he crossed himself. “I bless you and your husband, William, who is a fine man. But, then again, you truly know this, right?”

Buffy nodded and smiled at the Priest with sincere affection, “yes, I know my husband is a fine man, Father,” she acknowledged.

“You are a lucky man, William O’Hara,” Giles repeated to his good friend. “Take care of your treasure, boy. May you both be blessed with good health, happiness and a dozen children full of both.”

Spike grinned a his beloved Priest and shook his hand, warmly. “Thank you Father,” he stated evenly. “I should be getting my wife and myself back to the farm. Seeing to my lovely sister and poor Angel, too. Please say a prayer, Father, for Angel that is. He’s a good man, truly, just sad beyond is years.”

Buffy noticed that Father Giles raised his fair brow, slightly, then nodded at her husband. “I shall, as I always do, William,” he responded.

“But, my son,” Father Giles continued, “for now, you need to take your ‘alainn beannacht’ to your and her new home. It was truly a pleasure to meet you, Buffy, dear,” the Priest finished with a sincere smile. “God bless you both my children,” he murmered and took his leave.

“Thank you Father,” Buffy called after the man who strode away from her and William.

“What a nice man,” Buffy whispered in awe to William, who just shrugged.

“He was my folks best friend, Buffy,” Spike admitted to her. “Been a part of my life since I can remember.”

“Will,” Buffy began, shyly, “what does ‘alainn beannacht’ mean?”

Spike grinned at Buffy, wrapped his left arm about her and pulled her to him, tightly. “Simply put, my love,” he murmered in her ear, placing a warm kiss on it, “it means ‘beautiful blessing.’

Buffy followed Spike to the ‘wire station’ and watched as he greeted the station master there.

“Hello Jesse Walling,” Spike called to the young man behind the counter, “it’s good to see you, boy.”

This Jesse hurried out from behind the counter and clasped Spike’s hand in his own, “good to see you William,” he gushed.

“My wife, Buffy O’Hara,” Spike nodded at Buffy proudly as the dark haired younger man eyed her with appreciation.

“You’ve done well for yourself, William,” this Jesse chortled happily, “wish I’d find such a catch.” He winked at Buffy’s husband, wickedly, but she took no offense. Already, Buffy was finding life in this whole area just might be quite satisfactory to her.

Buffy reached out her hand and Jesse took it, gallantly, then kissed it, quickly. “Hope that’s all right William,” he chuckled, “such a fine lass, who could resist a peck on this tiny, pure hand.”

She suddenly felt a bit ‘odd’ when Jesse mentioned, fine and pure in the same sentence.

“Can you call my home, then, Jesse,” Spike asked, changing the subject and taking Buffy’s hand in his. “See if Angel can come fetch us? Or Xander if he’s about?”

Walling called his home, ‘need to start calling it our home now’, Spike reminded himself as he smiled softly at his new bride.

“I hope old Xander is about,” Spike said quietly to Buffy, “I’d rather it be him then my own brother that comes to fetch us. Angel needs some getting used to I’m afraid…” his voice trailed off.

Spike and Buffy sat in the wire station and chatted with Mr. Walling, amicably. Jesse Walling filled the newlyweds in on all of the latest gossip from the surrounding area, including the elopement of a young woman from Balleycastle and a certain older widower by the name of Patrick Wilkens.

“It was the talk of the town, William,” Jesse chuckled as he poured the couple another cuppa of tea. “Old lady Walsh was scandalized for months! She was furious, thought she’d snag old Wilkens for herself! Who knew old Patrick had set his sights on the young, innocent Colleen McPheresan! It was a major calamity and kept the excitement up for months, like I said.”

Buffy smiled at William, who seemed to be enjoying his old friend’s gossip as much as she was. ‘It’s going to be fine,’ Buffy told herself again, ‘it’s going to be all right here. On my husband’s farm.’

The front door of the wire station flew open, and a rather large, dark haired man entered the room. Buffy looked up at the imposing young man, wide-eyed and a little intimidated. There was something in this man’s chocolate brown eyes, something dark and angry, she could sense it from where she sat. When he came closer to their trio, Buffy realized that this man was missing his right arm, a mere folded back sleeve where the arm should be.

“Hello big brother,” Angel O’Hara greeted Spike with a sneer, “Who’s this pretty piece of skirt then?”


A/N: I’m trying to get interested in this story again. Short chapter, but now it’s time for Buffy to get to the farm, meet some more of the characters and for the stage to be set for the angst to come. I will try to get this going again, I know it’s a hard read, but I really think it will pan out later. Thanks for reading, please review. (Oh, Father Giles will play a very important part later in the fic!) Luv, Spuf

NA GRACH CROI



Chapter 8:


A/N: Thanks to ‘songgal’ (sp?) I have decided to take Angel’s character and his fate in a whole new direction. Although Angel’s personality will continue (for a while) in the direction I had previously chosen, he may just pull through in the end.


Buffy noticed that Angel O’Hara did not even smile when her husband, Spike, had introduced her to his younger brother. Instead, the tall, dark haired man just shrugged and nodded at Buffy,then led both she and Spike to the wagon he had driven from their farm.


Once they reached the O’Hara farm, Spike helped his wife down from the simple buckboard that Angel had brought to fetch them from Balleycastle. If Buffy was apprehensive, she tried bravely not to show it. Angel, Spike’s baby brother could be quite intimidating, especially to a young, sheltered widow such as his Buffy.

As he had explained to Buffy, on their Honeymoon night, Angel was quite bitter about his crippled form and secretly, kind of, had always blamed Spike for it. Spike had realized, years before, that Angel would rather have been left for dead then to end up like he was.

Angel, Spike realized, would never forgive his older brother for saving his life, but not his arm. There was no gratefulness in Angel O’Hara’s heart or soul for Spike’s heroic actions. There was only envy, bitterness and anger.

“Is Tara about,” Spike asked his younger brother, almost timidly, Buffy noted.

“She’s gone to Portrush, with her good friend Willow Cohan. Willow’s auntie is dying, Tara went to lend her comfort,” Angel finished with another shrug.

“Oh,” Buffy sighed with obvious dissapointment, “I’d so wanted to meet your sister.”

Angel smirked, the nearest sibling trait to his brother that Buffy had noticed so far. They were so different, these O’Hara brothers, that one might not know they were even related. There was something about Angel, Buffy tried to suss it out, but was left confused. When they had been introduced, he, Angel, had eyed Buffy up and down, brazenly, then seemed to frown when he’d found out she and Spike were married.

“Tara’s always out and about with her good friend Willow,” Angel mumbled as he led the way into the farm house. “You’d think…” but he left the sentence unfinished.

“This is it, Buffy darling,” Spike took his wife’s tiny hand in his. “Not much really, but we call it home.”

“It’s lovely,” Buffy gasped, truly awed by the simple, yet elegant front living area of the house. “I guess your sister is to be thanked for bringing such a warm touch to the house?”

Spike nodded, Angel just shrugged again and sauntered off to another room of the house. Presumably, his bedroom.

“I know,” Spike hung his head in sadness, “Angel’s not the most friendly lad around. I’m sorry Princess. Should have warned you more.”

Buffy shook her head quickly, “you did warn me, William,” she acknowledged. She brought her new husband’s hand up to her lips and kissed it, delicately. “I just wish that your Angel would see you for the good man you are. Appreciate you more.”

“Let’s go see my old room,” Spike changed his frown to a wicked grin. “Kind of christen the old place, eh?”

Buffy giggled, “I’d like that. “Then,” she continued, all wifely like, “I’ll make you a fine supper, husband. That is, if there is anything to make a fine supper with?”

“Tara always kept the place up, darlin,” Spike chuckled, “there’ll be plenty food to make a meal with. But for now,” he pulled Buffy to him, “I’ve other things in mind besides food. You know?”

“Mine,” Spike panted as he thrust into his wife in a frenzy. “You’re mine Buffy,” he rasped as he felt his release come.

They, Buffy and he, were in his own bedroom, making love, frantically.

‘Thank God Tara kept the room up,’ Spike had thought right away when they entered the closed off area.

Buffy had laughed, merrily, when Spike picked her up and carried her over his bedroom ‘thresh hold’ to his bed. She was more then relieved when she realized that her husband’s bedroom was well situated away from Angel’s and Tara’s.

“We won’t have to ‘hold back’so much,” she giggled as William divested her of her dress and shoes.

“Good thing,” Spike grunted as he pulled his own cumbersome clothes off. “I don’t think I could hold back with you, darlin’ Buffy.” He grinned at his wife, wickedly.

Buffy was in the kitchen, the next morning, cooking breakfast for her husband. And his younger brother, if Angel wanted. She heated the iron stove and began to prepare the big breakfast, when she heard a slight noise behind her.

“Will,” she laughed merrily, without turning around, “I hope you’re hungry darling. I’ve made…”

The heavy touch of a large hand on her shoulder alerted her to the fact that this was not her Will. It was Angel.

“I am hungry, sweet Buffy,” Angel murmered to her when she turned around, finally to face him. “I’m starving, actually.”

Buffy blushed at Angel’s obvious innuendo, then turned about again, abruptly, to finish the meal she was preparing for her husband.

“Where’s my William,” she asked quickly, “thought you were him.”

Angel chuckled softly, “your William is out in the barn. He’s seeing to his favorite horse. Guess he thought it was more important to see to a steed then see to his fine wife, this morning anyway.”

Buffy flinched, then shook her head, “I’m sure he’ll be in, soon Angel. In the meantime, I’d appreciate it if you would back away from me, just a bit. You stand too close to me, makes me feel suffocated.”

Angel laughed heartily, but moved back a step or two from her.

“Tell me, Buffy O’Hara,” he mumbled lowly, “how did you meet my brother? What made an angel like you come to meet and marry my darling brother?”

If Angel wanted to bait Buffy, she could play along, though why she would was beyond her own understanding.

“Your brother, William,” Buffy began evenly as she turned to face Angel again, “is a very good man. We met in Belfast, and yes, it was a fast courtship. However, when two people meet, who know deep within them that they are meant to be together? Then time is not an issue. Your brother, William and I, were meant to be together, Angel. And, as for me being an angel? Hardly. However, your brother loves me and I love him. It is that simple, yet that complicated.”

Angel scowled at Buffy then whispered, “he always wins. My brother does. Now he’s won an angel for himself.” With that, Angel turned and strode off, out of the kitchen door.

“Buffy, luv,” Spike called from the back door of the house, “I’ll be in in a moment sweet.”

Buffy sighed and went back to checking the water for the tea. ‘I almost hope that Will’s brother leaves this place and soon. He is trouble, no question.’

Buffy sat on the front porch of the O’Hara farm and stared out at the horizon. She smiled softly to herself, unsure of just what this new, warm feeling was that had come over her. Later she would realize, of course, that it was contentment and peace of mind that enveloped her. Something she had never really known before.

Spike sat down next to her, took her tiny hand in his and kissed it, tenderly.

“What you thinkin’ sweetheart,” he murmered as he ran his fingers down the side of her soft face.

“Just that I’m happy, for once,” Buffy sighed, honestly, and leaned her head onto his strong shoulder. “It’s so nice, so peaceful here, Will,” she finished with another whispered sigh.

“Well, it’s that,” Spike chuckled, hugging her little body to his. “Peaceful that is. Most of the time anyway…”

He glanced back at the house with a frown, then shook his head.

“Buffy,” he began, tentively, “I need to tell you something, rather important.”

She flinched, momentarily thrown off by her husband’s sudden seriousness.

“It’s probably nothing, truly,” Spike continued somberly, “but something Angel told me. While I was gone. Some ‘trouble’ came up with a certain family near here. They usually hang out in Balleycastle, in fact, I was surprised we didn’t see at least one of the trashy lot there. When we arrived home, I mean.”

Buffy gave Spike a worried look, making immediately sorry that he even mentioned this whole thing. ‘Probably won’t turn out to be anything,’ he reasoned to himelf, hopefully.

“Why trouble with ‘this’ particular family, Will?” Buffy asked with genuine concern.

He sighed deeply then met her green eyed gaze, trying to keep a calm demeanor for her.

“They’re the Finn-Rayne family, Buffy,” he began quietly. “They’ve been in these parts a long time, British people, really. Old man Ethan Rayne is a nasty piece of work. His brood of kids aren’t much better, though.”

“They, the Raynes, have always my family’s farm. Yeah,” Spike nodded with pride, “this is a wonderful farm, Buffy. Rayne’s wanted it from the get go. I guess, according Angel, they, the Rayne family, have been talkin’ loud and big around here, in Balleycastle. Said that if I didn’t come back, they’d have this place it a heartbeat. Which is probably true, Angel could care less about this farm. Tara’ll go and marry, someday, have her own place.”

Buffy swallowed hard and began to feel a little lightheaded. She always had reacted this way when she was worried, or even slightly frightened.

“Do you think they’ll cause trouble, Will?” Buffy asked worriedly.

Spike shook his head, firmly, “they’re all talk, sweet,” he assured her with a warm hug. “Angel’s probably just talkin’ out of the side of his mouth and all. It’ll be fine, promise.”

Buffy seemed placated enough and Spike sighed in relief, even though, he felt a great sense of uneasiness about the whole Finn-Rayne family. ‘I hope Angel was just exagerating, as usual,’ Spike said to himself, anxiously.


A/N: Long chapter, but I wanted to introduce Angel, next Tara will come into the picture. I am going to have Cordelia be a young woman in Balleycastle who is enamored of yes, Angel. However, the angst of that is he, Angel, is too bitter and blind to see how much Cordy loves him. Anyway, the Finn (guess who!)Rayne, family is really trouble. Thanks for reading, please review. Luv, Spuf

NA GRACH CROI



Chapter 9: ‘Siochain de Intinn’ (Peace of Mind)




Buffy was finding her husband’s farm more then comforting, it was healing her. Her emotional state was better then ever and she felt safe here on this magical land in the County of Antrim.

“When shall we meet your ‘hand’ Xander Harris, Will?” Buffy asked later that night as they lay in bed together. Buffy was finding great comfort in the physical side of her and Will’s marriage. Comfort, at least for her side of it, was never a feeling that Buffy had associated with sex before this. It was near a spiritual revelation for her.

Spike snuggled his wife even closer to him and nuzzled her neck, affectionately. “Old Xander, he’s down in Dungiven, just southwest of here. His wife, Nancy’s her name, her Mum lives there and they went to visit with their two little ones. There’s two boys, Alexander, he’s the oldest of course and little Francis, or Frank as he’s called.”

“They’ll be back by week’s end, according to Angel. Hopefully, my sister, Tara, will be home then also. She’ll be thrilled to meet you Buffy, promise,” he finished with a quick kiss on her neck.

“I can’t wait to meet Tara,” Buffy sighed, truthfully, “she sounds so wonderful. I hope we’re good friends. Hope Nancy Harris and I get on well too,” she added wistfully.

“You’ll all be good friends, I know it,” Spike reassured her with a chuckle. “Who couldn’t love you, Buffy sweet. You’re an angel on earth.”


They had been married less then a week, Buffy and Spike, but she felt as if they had been together for years. Their days were filled with love and companionship, while their nights were filled with passion and spiritual closeness together.

Spike’s sister, Tara, had finally returned home to the farm about four days after Buffy and he had arrived there. Buffy took to Tara, immediately. She found an instant comradarie in the young woman, who was quite lovely in a serene way. There was something about Tara, something deep and soulful, a warmness in her soul that touched Buffy’s heart instanly.

This morning, Tara and Buffy sat on the front porch of the farmhouse. Spike, Angel and the now returned Xander, were off somewhere, about doing farm things. Things that Buffy did not understand, yet.

If Will thought it odd that Buffy was unused to farm ways, even though she’d told him she had grown up on a New York farm, married a virtual farmer, too? Will never let on and Buffy just accepted that her husband assumed that the so called farms in New York were a tad better off then his. Perhaps, he just figured that Buffy had led a pampered lifestyle, where her parents were farm owners in more of a ‘name’ only way.

“Tara,” Buffy began shyly, “may I ask you something…about your brother, Angel, I mean?” The two young women sat, sipping tea together on the porch, had been chatting about everything, but, their own families.

Tara smiled at Buffy and nodded, the O’Hara sister had a reserved, quiet demeanor which she welcomed whole heartedly. After the fast living existence that Buffy had lived for four years in England and New York? She enjoyed the quiet, serene and reserved life style that existed here, on the O’Hara farm.

“Angel,” Buffy stammered softly, “is there no lady in his life? No sweetheart? He’s a handsome young man, seems he’d have found a lovely girl to spend time with?”

Tara suddenly lost her smile, then frowned, then sighed. “Oh, Buffy,” she murmered sadly, “there ‘is’ a young woman, in Balleycastle. Daughter of one of the few mercantile owners there, a lovely girl. Her name is Cordelia Chase, daughter of Francis and Careen Chase. The poor girl, Cordy she’s called, she’s been in love with our Angel since they were mere children, but…..”

Tara frowned again, looked out over the horizon in the direction of Balleycastle itself. “My brother, Angel, fool that he can sometimes be, is blind to Cordy Chase’s feelings for him. He’s too wrapped up in his bitterness and self pity to even consider that a fine young woman like Cordelia Chase would give him, an armless man, a second look.”

“No,” Tara sighed sorrowfully, “my blind, bitter and sometimes dense brother prefers the company of mere whores in Balleycastle, and elsewhere. He can’t see the beauty and love that is Cordelia Chase. I’m sorry, Buffy,” she added with a quick scowl, “shouldn’t have mentioned to you about the loose women in Angel’s life.”

“Oh,” Buffy mumbled softly, “I’m sorry. Perhaps I should not have asked, I just…,” her voice trailed off weakly. The mention of the word whores from this lovely woman’s mouth made Buffy feel less then worthy of William, or his family.

“You just wanted to know your love’s family better. Of course you should ask these questions, sweetie,” Tara assured her with a pat on her arm. “I’m so glad you came into my darling brother, Will’s life, dear Buffy,” Tara added, warmly. “I think you’ve saved our Will’s very existence.”

“Thank you, Tara,” Buffy murmered and looked away from her new sister-in-law. She could only hope that she, Buffy, would live up to Tara’s statement, as Will had certainly saved hers.

There was a small river, more of a stream, really, that ran close by the house on the O’Hara farm. After her and Tara’s talk on the front porch, she, Buffy went in search of William there. She found him, stripping down to clean up in the cool water of the stream.

“Mind if I join you?” Buffy purred at her husband, silkily. She glanced around to make sure no other person was about and began to strip off her own clothing.

“Course you can join me, sweet,” Spike moaned as he reached his arms out to his wife. He waited in the water, up to his waist for Buffy to join him in the cool, clear water.

Buffy grinned, wickedly, as she divested herself of the rest of her clothing and joined her man in the stream. She fell into his embrace, felt the warmth his body provided from the crisp, coldness of the waters’ bite.

“God, Buffy,” he murmered, nearly groaned in her ear, “I’m so glad you’re here with me. I’m so blessed to have you.”

Buffy snuggled into William’s strong arms and buried her golden head into his chest. She could hear his heart racing, feel the beating of it in his chest. It’s cadence matched her own strong heart and Buffy felt like some kind of ancient, mystical Celt Goddess, right at that moment.

‘It’s the land,’ she reasoned, ‘this magical land and this magical man of mine.’ Buffy had never known this kind of happiness, this peace of mind or heart. Not in her whole, disturbing twenty-one years of life on this earth.

“Buffy,” Spike growled into his wife’s neck, “I want you so much.” He turned her about, then held her close to his body, her back to his chest and front hips. Before either of them knew what was happening, Spike bent his bride slightly forward and after making sure she was ready, he thrust his shaft into her depths.

“Hot and ready,” he mewled as he thrust in and out, slowly from her, “even in the cold stream. My baby, Buffy, she’s ready for me and burning hot inside.”

“Oh, Will,” Buffy moaned breathily, “I….” She couldn’t finish, her husband’s thrusts kept her from forming coherant words.

“I love you, Buffy,” he gasped as he thrust frantically into his wife. “My Buffy,” he groaned as he held her little body to him. “My wife, my love.”

Afterwards, while they stood in the water, their lower bodies covered in the cleansing water, Spike held onto Buffy for dear life. He clasped her so close to him, that she could barely breathe properly, but it felt so good and right to Buffy.

“Buffy,” Spike murmered to her huskily, “when we’re blessed with babies, you and me. I want lots. Lots of little ones to fill our home and lives. Hope you want the same thing, my Princess.”

His words sent shivers down Buffy’s spine and made her feel like a worshipped, adored diety. “I do,” she responded simply with a warm smile. She reached her hand up, behind her head, and ran it down her man’s cheek and neck. “I want a dozen little O’Haras of our own.”


A/N: Hokey, yes? Okay, next chapter, the O’Hara clan will travel to Balleycastle and run into some of the locals there. Some will be friends…..some will be foes. Thanks for reading, please review. Luv, Spuf

NA GRACH CROI


Chapter 10: ‘Ciocras’ (Longing)


Summary: Spike and Buffy long for each other and a family of their own, always. In this chapter we will meet other characters that have a ‘ciocras’ of their own.


Spike lay next to his wife, Buffy, intently watching her as she slept soundly. His arms were wrapped tightly about her tiny waist and he watched, almost mesmerized as her beautiful, milky white breasts rose and fell, to the cadence of her breaths. ‘Even in sleep, no actually, especially in sleep,’ Spike ammended his thought, ‘she looks like an angel.’

Although Buffy had just fallen asleep, less then an hour before this, Spike missed her already. He missed the warm kisses she returned to him, her bright, musical laughter and, of course, her mutual desire when they made love. Spike longed for Buffy to suddenly wake up, fully rested and ready to return to their passionate love making.

He longed for her, still, even after the hours of lovemaking they had enjoyed earlier, just before she had fallen into an exhausted sleep. Longed for his Buffy, he did, and always would. For her warmth, her companionship and her love.

‘She has no idea,’ Spike mused silently as he watched her smile slightly in her sleep, ‘no idea what light and happiness she’s brought into my empty life.’ It was true, sure as that, that Buffy had brought Spike back to life when she had come to him.

The realization of this sometimes frightened Spike, although mostly, it delighted him. He had never depended on anyone else in his entire life to complete his happiness, much less his existence. Spike certainly had never needed anyone, not like he needed his Buffy. “I’d die if I ever lost you Princess,” he whispered softly to her as he leaned in to gently kiss her lovely lips.

“Will?” Buffy murmered, her eyes were now just half opened and she felt a smile form on her lips. “Is everything all right? Why are you still awake, darling?” She finally opened her eyes, completely and took in the look of wonder that her husband had on his handsome face.

“Sorry, sweet,” he whispered, though unneccessarily, “I didn’t mean to wake you. Just was watching you sleep and thinking.”

He wondered why both he and his wife were talking so lowly as the other family members in the house were asleep, far from their own bedroom. “They cannot hear us, you know?” Spike smirked slightly and cuddled Buffy closer to him, “we don’t need to whisper so. Good thing because when I’m cummin’ inside you, you know how I tend to scream, baby.”

Buffy giggled, wickedly against Spike’s chest. “You are just awful, Will,” she accused him and burrowed her face deeper into his strong chest.

“I’m awful?” he pulled back from her with a mock pout.

“No, you’re actually wonderful,” she sighed affectionately, “but you say the most scandalous things!”

“Like you’d know scandalous, Buffy sweet,” he kissed the tip of her nose lovingly. “Such a sweet girl, you are, my wife. I’m surprised you even know the word scandalous.”

Buffy turned her head quickly and lay her cheek against the place on his chest it had just been. She changed the subject, hurridly.

“Tomorrow, what time shall we leave for Balleycastle?” she asked softly.

“About 7:00 AM, luv,” Spike yawned suddenly, “and we best get to sleep I suppose. It’s past midnight and I’ll have to roust that brother of mine up early to get ready to go with us. Knowing Angel, he’s dead drunk and he’ll be a bear to raise in the early morning.”

With another sigh, Buffy snuggled into her husband’s warm body and closed her green eyes. “Will?” she whispered in the dark to him.

“What, Princess,” he responded softly, “tomorrow, in Balleycastle? Do you think that Tara can introduce me to this Cordelia Chase? Your sister seems to truly believe the girl loves poor Angel, I’d like to meet her.”

Spike nodded, tiredly, “it’s true. Cordelia Chase does love Angel, he’s just too damn stubborn and blind to see it. Too wrapped up in his own self pity to see the world about him. Sometimes,” he continued sadly, “I truly wish I’d never pulled my baby brother from that mine shaft. It just seemed to prolong his suffering.”

The O’Hara family arrived in Balleycastle just before 8:30 AM the next morning. Once Spike had helped his wife and sister down from the wagon, he and Angel headed off to the local bank to do some business. Buffy and Tara headed to the Chase Mercantile in hopes of finding some suitable material and of course for Buffy to meet Careen Chase and her daughter, Cordelia.

Tara took Buffy by the hand and led her into the Mercantile, eagerly searching about for either Careen or Cordelia. Behind the counter, Buffy noticed an older, attractive woman, taller then herself, but not so tall as Tara.

“Hello, Careen,” Tara called warmly to the woman behind the counter.

“Tara!” Careen Chase greeted happily, “it’s so good to see you. This must by William’s bride, Elizabeth is it?” The woman hurried from behind the counter and rushed to take Buffy’s hands in her own.

“Cordelia,” Careen called out to the back of the store, “come see who’s here to visit!”

“We’ve been so anxious to meet you,” Mrs. Chase gushed all over Buffy, “Cordelia especially.”

A younger version of Mrs. Chase appeared from out of the back room. She was as dark haired as her mother, a bit taller, but equally attractive.

“Hello,” sang the younger Chase female, “I’m Cordelia and you must be Elizabeth. Oh, Tara,” the young woman giggled, “William’s done very well for himself. We’re all so pleased that such a fine man has found happiness, at last.”

Buffy immediately took a liking to both of the Chase women and asked them to call her Buffy. “It was my late Mother’s pet name for me,” she explained, “though I can’t imagine why.”

“It suits you,” Careen stated simply, “Elizabeth is a beautiful name, but Buffy is bright and full of bounce. Suits you to a tee, I can tell.”

“Cordelia is such a lovely name,” Buffy responded politely, “it’s from Shakespeare, isn’t it?”

“Yes, it is,” Cordy smiled, genuinely pleased that Buffy had mentioned her moniker, “it translates into ‘the daughter of the sea king’ although my Da is certainly no king.”

“Is, uhm, Angel with you?” Cordelia asked shyly, her brown eyes ‘seemed’ to focus on a dress that hung in the window of the store.

“He’s here,” Tara answered quickly, “but…..” The younger Chase woman just nodded with dissapointment and pulled Buffy over to the material area. “I’m sure there is some suitable fabric for you Buffy,” Cordy said softly, her voice just a bit shakey. “What did you need the material for?”

“I need some new, more practical dresses,” Buffy explained, “for my new life on my Will’s farm. I…..”

Before she could finish the sentence, the Mercantile door opened, the little bell above it alerted them to more customers. Although Buffy expected to look up and see her husband and his brother, she was surprised to find three unknown men walk into the Mercantile.
She thought nothing of it, really, until all three of the other women by her audibly groaned.

“Morning, Miss O’Hara, Miss and Mrs. Chase,” the first man greeted coolly. He was a large man, with fair hair and dark blue eyes. Buffy would have thought him good looking, usually, but since no man could compare to her Will, she paid his appearance no real heed.

“Good day Mr. Riley Finn-Rayne,” Careen Chase greeted coldly to the man. “A good day to you Graham Walsh, Mr. Doyle,” she continued, with equal coolness.

“Maam, ladies,” the two other men grunted in unison. Buffy noticed that both Cordelia and Tara nearly cringed when the three men had made their presence known. ‘I wonder what that’s about?’ she thought to herself. ‘Wait,’ she stopped suddenly, ‘Finn-Rayne’ isn’t that the family Will warned me about?’

“Hello, Tara,” Riley sauntered up to Buffy’s sister-in-law, brazenly, but eyed Buffy herself up and down.

“Riley,” Tara mumbled nervously, “this is my sister-in-law, William’s bride, Elizabeth O’Hara. Buffy, I mean Elizabeth,” the poor girl stuttered, “this is Riley Finn-Rayne. He’s….”

“The oldest son of the most important man in these parts,” this Riley finished for Tara. “And, hopefully,” the man continued with an arrogant demeanor, “Miss Tara’s future stepson. If she’d just finally say yes to my poor widower of a Father.”

Buffy gasped openly, she had no idea that this pompous boy’s Father was interested in Tara, much less wanted to marry her.

Tara cringed, physically, then finally sighed, “your Father knows full well that I have no intention of marrying him Riley. If he can accept that, why can’t you?”

“Well, more’s your loss, Miss O’Hara,” Riley mumbled then changed the subject quickly. He lewdly grinned at Buffy, “old Spike’s done quite well for himself, eh, Tara, boys?” he chuckled and looked back at the two imbeciles that came in with him. They nodded, like a couple of puppets on strings and agreed with Riley.

“Nice to meet you Elizabeth,” Riley finished with a quick bow.

“I guess,” Buffy responded weakly and sidled behind Mrs. Chase, rather quickly. Buffy noticed that Riley’s attention had fallen onto Cordelia and that his said attention was anything but remote or genteel.

“How are you Cordy,” Riley asked, leaning into the young woman, even as she backed up a bit.

“I’m fine Riley,” she answered simply and turned to go back behind the counter.

“That you are, Cordelia Chase,” Riley chuckled deeply. “When are you going to allow me to court you, properly girl?” He flopped down on a chair near the counter and eyed the younger Chase woman, rakishly, Buffy felt.

“I care for another, Riley, you know that,” Cordelia stated clearly while she looked over some books on the desk behind the counter. This statement would hopefully end the direction of this conversation, or so Buffy thought.

Riley snorted rudely, “waste of time, Cordy,” he grumbled. “Angel O’Hara is a fool, and a cripple. Not worthy of a fine girl like you.”

Careen Chase cleared her throat and motioned to Tara and Buffy, along with Cordelia to follow her into the back of the store. “Good day, Riley, gentlemen,” the woman nodded at the three unwelcome men as she led the ladies into the back.

Again, the front door tinkled the appearance of more customers and Spike walked through it. He glanced about the store, glared at Riley and his companions, then strode over to his wife and sister’s sides.

“It’s time to go, luv,” he said gently to Buffy, kissing her on her cheek, tenderly. Spike shot Riley a death look and wrapped his left arm about Buffy’s slim shoulders.

“Congratulations Spike old friend,” Riley stuck out his hand for Spike to shake. Buffy noticed that her husband did not take Riley’s hand in his.

“I’m not your friend Riley,” Spike announced evenly and led Buffy, followed by Tara towards the Mercantile door. “And I think you’d best move on now,” he added to the three men there.

Riley was visibly upset by Spike’s snub and began to say something back to Buffy’s husband when Cordelia interrupted.

“We’ll see you soon,” Cordelia called out hopefully to the O’Haras as they left the store. “Very soon,” Buffy called back to her and her Mother.

“Will they be all right, Will? Cordy and Mrs. Chase?” Buffy asked anxiously as they headed towards the wagon. She turned to see the three men leaving the Mercantile, right after them and immediately felt better.

“Finn-Rayne and his whole family are all bluster and talk, Buffy darling,” Spike assured his wife and his sister. However, a part of him did not believe his own words. He knew, deep down inside, that someday the animosity and envy that the Rayne family felt for the O’Haras would blow up in all of their faces. But, not today.

“Just talk or not,” Tara muttered, “that man and his whole family make my skin crawl!”

“Is the Father, this Ethan Rayne really interested in matrimony with you Tara?” Buffy asked incredulously. “Not that you are not a fine catch, but that old man? By the look of his son, this Ethan must be middle aged?”

Spike chuckled a bit, “no one wants my sister to marry old man Ethan Rayne, dear one,” he assured his nervous wife. “Frankly, I’d rather hang first before any sister of mine married into that trashy family,” he finished firmly.

“Tara!” came a gentle, soft voice from behind them. Buffy looked to see a tall red haired woman hurry up to them. She was grey eyed and quite pretty in a fragile way.

“Willow,” Tara gushed warmly as a wistful look passed between the two young women. Buffy noticed ‘the look’ and wondered if her husband had caught it. She glanced at her William and realized that he was oblivious to it. But, she, Buffy was not. It was then that Buffy realized that Tara O’Hara would never marry, not ever, no matter how many of the fine young or older local men wooed her.

Buffy was aware that some women preferred the company of other women to that of men. There were two women, working girls of Anya’s that were closer then husband and wife to each other. Always devoted to each other first, these two young working girls were. So, the idea of Tara and Willow being in love with each other did not stun Buffy at all.

She did however, realize that her husband, William and his younger brother Angel probably had no idea that their sister had these feelings towards this Willow. To Buffy, it was obvious, but not to anyone else, apparently.

It was then and there that Buffy decided to never mention the situation or ask about it of anyone, especially Tara. This was Tara and Willow’s business and if they wanted anyone to know about it, then they should be the ones to tell them.

“This is Buffy,” Tara quickly introduced her to Willow who smiled warmly at her. “My brother is a smart and a lucky man, is he not Wills?” she asked the girl with a chuckle.

“He is,” Willow agreed shyly and shook Buffy’s hand. “Will you come to tea, at my Mother’s shop sometime then, Buffy?” Willow asked hopefully, causing Buffy to realize that the young girl was lonely for friendship and company. Buffy was nothing if not intuitive and perceptive of the human condition. Her past profession had demanded a certain empathetic nature and it served her well, even here in Balleycastle.

“I would love to, Willow,” Buffy nodded eagerly, “perhaps the next time we come here?” Willow’s face lit up and she glanced shyly at Tara, reassuring Buffy that she had been quite right in her first assumption of the relationship between the two women.

“How’s your mother, Willow?” Spike asked politely, glancing about for a sight of his brother.

Willow began to ramble on about her Mother and dying Auntie in Portrush, and so on. In the mean time, Spike spied Angel coming from a pub down the street.

‘Christ,’ Spike shook his head in disgust, ‘barely 9:30 in the morning and he’s already drinkin’ himself into a stupor. What am I going to do with that boy?’

“Shall we go have breakfast then,” Angel grinned devilishly as he joined his family on the street corner. “Will you join us then, Willow?” he added with a wink at the red head, illiciting a blush from her.

Spike nodded and pulled his Buffy closer to him, “yeah, let’s go eat then. We’ve got a lot to do today here and I’d like to get home long before supper. He bent down a bit and nuzzled Buffy’s golden head with his lips, “can’t wait to get you home again, sweetheart,” he whispered in her warm little ear.

Buffy giggled happily with a hot blush and looked quickly at Tara who smiled warmly. When her glance fell on Angel, however, she noticed he had a dour look on his face and it disturbed her, momentarily that is. Her William had her in his arms and it was a beautiful Irish morning. There was nothing in the world, at that moment, that could ruin Buffy’s lovely day with her family.

As the O’Hara family rode home in their wagon, Buffy and Tara chatted away together about just everything. It had been a wonderful shopping day in Balleycastle and Buffy could not wait to go again, and soon.

“I was thinking,” Tara began carefully, “that Angel and I should move into the little house, just beyond the barn. At the farm that is. You’re married now William,” Tara stated the obvious with a blush, “it’s time for you to have the main house for yourself and Buffy. I’m sure you’ll be having little babes soon, you need the house for privacy.”

Spike was rather surprised by his sister’s words, but not unhappy about them. Actually, he would prefer to live in the main house with Buffy, alone. Then, when it was time, their children together would share the home. It was the natural way of things, surely Angel would see that, as Tara had?

“Tara, Angel,” Buffy gasped in shock, “we cannot even think of sending you from your home. It would be wrong.”

“No, Buffy,” Tara shook her blond head, “it’s the right thing. Angel will marry someday and even if I don’t…..”

Buffy thought Tara sounded so sad, almost wistful and it tugged at her heart. ‘Poor thing,’ Buffy sighed to herself, ‘if only the world saw things differently. Everyone in love could be happy, with the ones they love.’

Angel had been silent, especially since Tara had mentioned that Cordelia Chase had asked after him in Balleycastle. Now, he finally spoke up.

“Tara’s right,” he grunted simply, “it’s best if her and I, for now, move into the extra house. Behind the barn. We’ll move there by next evening and that’s that.”

Spike looked over at Buffy, who gave him a little pout. ‘My wife,’ he thought happily, ‘she’s a good girl, with a good heart.’ “I love you,” he whispered to her.

“Love you,” she murmered back and squeezed his strong hand with her tiny one.


A/N: I hope this chapter introduced some characters and situations properly into this story. Things are going to be okay for a while, look really ‘happy’ and such. But, then something is going to happen, something bad that will threaten Spike and Buffy’s marriage. There is someone in Balleycastle, or closer to the O’Hara farm, who will try and destroy Buffy’s love for Spike. Please read and review, thanks. Luv, Spuf

NA GRACH CROI


Chapter 11: ‘Daraoi Lann’ (Magical Land)


A/N: I would like to remind readers that the Irish Gaelic terms, etc. used in this story are very loosely translated into English.
Example: magical can either be ‘daraoi or druidh’ and it doesn’t necessarily translate into magical, or magic, but more truly into ‘charmed’ or even ‘blessed.’ It’s not an exact science, so to speak. Anyway, this next chapter is a connector one. It’s only important to the plot because it reveals the intimate, personal relationship between Buffy and Spike. Kind of the ‘legends before the fall’ sort of chapter. Angst is coming for our couple.


God, Buffy, my luv,” Spike gasped as he thrust into his dainty little wife’s warm body. “You feel so good to me, so fucking amazing.”

They had been making love for hours, the way they always finished off their long day. This was something Spike looked forward to, all day while he toiled away on the O’Hara farm. In fact, he spent many a boring chore, or toil, just thinking, dreamin’ actually, of his Buffy and the time they would spend together in bed, of course. That and just talking with each other after supper, after their long day of work.

It was night, of course, dinner had been eaten, Buffy and Spike had washed and readied for bed, hours before. Even still, almost close to midnight, the couple made love, passionately together.

Buffy was becoming quite adapted to farm living and she was very proud of herself for it. Her husband seemed quite pleased that his wife was ‘fitting in’ at the O’Hara farm and it helped when Angel and Tara had indeed moved into the smaller, extra house far behind the barn.

That had been a two weeks ago, when Angel and Tara moved, even though Buffy was horrified by it and said so.

“We can’t just run you out of your own home, Tara and Angel,” she had whined in front of her William.

“It’s for the best,” Tara assured her, “the smaller house is perfect for Angel and myself. You and my brother need privacy Buffy, like I said. Please, don’t make and issue of this. There isn’t one.”

That had been that, and both Tara and Angel moved immediately to the other house. While Buffy still felt guilty for being the cause of their moving, she ‘did’ enjoy the privacy that her and Will now had.

In truth, Buffy enjoyed her and Will’s physical relationship, probably as much as he did. She had never felt this intimate with anyone in her life, which was saying quite a lot, really, considering her past occupation.

“Make a baby with me, Will, please,” Buffy was now pleading, softly with her husband as he thrust into her desperately. Her voice was a mix of need and desire, as was his.

Spike felt his release coming, again, and picked up the pace of his thrusts into Buffy’s sweet little cunny. It never ceased to amaze him, how both he and his wife could make love for hours on end, only to pick up and start all over again, once they’d both cum.

Only after he had felt Buffy’s release, then his own, did Spike lay next to her, finally sated together, and so close, did he respond to her ‘baby’ plea.

“I’d love a baby, darlin’,” he murmered as he nuzzled her blond head with his lips. “But, a part of me, the selfish part, wants you all to myself, for a while longer at least.”

Buffy giggled and snuggled her bottom up against his worn out shaft, “it’ll happen when it’s time, I’ve no doubt Will,” she sighed. “I would just love a little boy, one that’s just like you.”

“I’d like a girl, first,” Spike chuckled, “one that’s the image of you, my angel.” He kissed the top of her warm head and sighed in contentment.

They lay together, in silence for a while, then Buffy finally spoke, softly, “Will? I know it’s not something I should bring up, not now anyway, but I have to know. Tara. She’d never consider really marrying that awful Ethan Rayne, would she?”

Spike flinched, it was not lost on Buffy. “Never,” he grunted gruffly. “I’d hang first before I’d let a Finn-Rayne near my sister, or you, especially.

Buffy almost asked William why he thought a Finn-Rayne, any of them, would ever get within twenty feet of her, but she decided to hold her tongue. Instead, she changed the subject quickly and turned the conversation to Angel.

“Angel,” Buffy began with caution, “does he not see how much Cordelia Chase cares for him?”

“No,” Spike sighed, impatiently, “Angel is clueless as to Cordelia’s feelings for him. It’s not like Tara and I haven’t tried to open his blind eyes, but no. We’ve pretty much talked this out, haven’t we Buffy, sweet?”

She nodded and turned to face him, “I know,” she whispered, “just a little confused by all these secret feelings and such around here. In this magical land of yours.”

Buffy giggled and and buried her head into William’s taut, strong chest. She enjoyed these quiet, special moments they shared together. The house was so still, only the sounds of the outside night carried through the halls of the O’Hara home. The low, musical noises of creatures of the night, echoed about and into their home. There were no sounds of the city, as there had been in London, and certainly no riotous partying noises that Buffy had become accustomed to there. It reminded Buffy of how truly at peace she was now, here, in this Irish farm, with her Irish husband.

“This is a magical place, you know that Will?” she sighed happily. She took his strong, calloused hand in hers and kissed it, lovingly. “I love it here, Will,” she confessed for the hundredth time since coming to Ireland. “It’s so green and lovely, so peaceful. You have made me so happy my darling,” she murmered into his chest, tenderly.

“You’re the one that’s made me happy, Buffy,” Spike nuzzled the top of her head and stroked his hands down her bare arms. He skimmed the soft skin of his wife’s stomach and the top of her silky thighs. “You’re the magic in my life, sweetheart. Oh sweet Jesus,” he moaned as his Buffy placed her tiny, warm little hand on his cock and began to stroke it, gently.

“Maybe we should just go to sleep now, Will,” Buffy purred softly, still stroking his shaft with her hand.

“Maybe,” Spike growled, huskily, “but then, maybe not.”

Days had turned to weeks, and weeks to a couple of months, since Buffy had joined her husband on his farm. Buffy felt as if she had been born to be here, exist here on this beautiful land that she now partly owned. Even though her past was a painful remembrance, she was learning to push it back, where it truly belonged. In her past.

Spike worked hard on his farm, even with the help of his brother, Angel, he toiled daily to keep the place up and running. It was a successful place and Spike was quite proud of it. More then that, however, he was proud of his wife, Buffy and the way she elegantly (yes, he used such words) adapted to his farm and his life.

Although the farm took a lot of work and sweat, Spike loved it so. It was a reminder of his beloved, dead parents, and their folks before them also. Nothing in the world would ever take this farm from him, Spike O’Hara, or his dear wife, Buffy. When they were blessed with children, hopefully near a dozen of them, Spike intended on passing this land onto them.

‘Surely no Finn-Rayne will ever walk this land of mine,’ Spike assured himself, daily. ‘I’ll hang before one of those fucks ever have my farm, my family’s place,’ he constantly told himself.

Buffy had learned to bake bread, with the help of her sister-in-law, Tara, and she was so very proud of herself. She, Buffy could complete the wash, her’s and Will’s on Tuesday; have three meals put on the table, daily; keep the front house clean as a whistle, daily; feed the damn chickens, daily and even have time to to learn how to sew. Again, thanks to Tara O’Hara, who was helping her fit into the farm life.

Everything was going so well and Buffy was so happy here. She just knew that her decision to fall in love with William/Spike O’Hara had been the best one she’d ever made in her life. Her husband was so pleased with her, so happy, and it gave her joy to know she brought this to him. God knows, he deserved some happiness and peace in his life.

Spike tossed the hammer aside that he was using to mend the corral that housed the horses. It was nearly 5:00 PM and the sun was beginning it’s descent into the west, a sign that time was coming for supper.

He gazed at the three horses in the corral, his very own animals, that he’d seen born and raised himself. Spike was proud of these three beautiful horses.

‘Iarann’ (Iron) was his own dark steed. A strong and worthy horse, full of piss and fire. His mate, ‘Siucra’ (Sugar) was now Spike’s beloved Buffy’s mare to ride. The horses, mated as they were, had a colt, barely a year old, by the name of ‘Trua’ (Compassion) that constantly remained by his parents’ sides.

While Spike watched the family of horses at play, a sudden gust of cold air blew about him, causing him to take notice and shudder quickly. Even for this time of year, which was in limbo of summer and fall, this cold blast of wind was surely a ‘forgra de curta’ or a sign of darkness.

Spike shivered and quickly crossed himself with the ‘holy sign’ twice for good measure. He then shrugged off his dubious misgivings and headed up to his home, to wash and have supper with his darling wife, Buffy.

After he washed, outside, clean as he could get in the trough, Spike hurried up to the back door of the house and entered, glancing about for his angel of a wife. He spied her, busily setting the table, humming as she went about her work, happily.

“I’ve missed you, as usual,” Spike called out to Buffy, warmly.

“Me too,” Buffy grinned back at her William. “Now, wipe your boots and sit at our table. I’ve fixed a fine supper for us, husband and I have so much to tell you this evening.”


A/N: This was, like I said, a connector chapter of Spuffy fluff. The angst, for our couple, is going to begin, rather quietly, in the next chapter. Someone in Balleycastle, someone just returned there, close to the Finn-Rayne’s, has an inkling as to our Buffy’s past. Thanks for reading, please review. Luv, Spuf

NA GRACH CROI



Chapter 12: ‘Comhra de na Anum’
(Conversation from the Soul)


Spike walked arm-in-arm with his wife, Buffy, down the main street of Balleycastle. He was so damn proud of his sweet Princess, Buffy. The couple nodded and said good day to everyone they met, even if they were strangers.

If Buffy didn’t know better, she felt she could read all of these kind townspeoples’ minds. ‘They think Will and me are a wonderful couple,’ she thought with delight. ‘They like us, just because we are so good together, look so good together.’ Buffy had never been happier in her entire life.

“Tara and Angel are over at the Chase Mercantile, sweetheart,” Spike smiled down at his dainty wife. “I’ll take you to meet Tara and you two can stop by at Willow’s, visit with her and her Mum. Would you like that?”

Buffy grinned up and nodded, excitedly, “yes, I would. Too bad little Frank Harris took ill and Nancy Harris could not come with us to town. I really like Mrs. Harris, and Xander too.”

“Well, everyone just loves you, Buffy, dear,” Spike chuckled. “That’s cos they know how happy you’ve made me. That and you’re a Saint, that’s for sure my sweet.”

He bent and kissed his wife’s golden head, lovingly, then continued to lead her to the Mercantile. “Angel and me, we’ve got business at the bank, darlin’ and I’m sure it’ll bore the hell out of you and Tara. So, thought you’d like to see Willow and her Mum. I know they’ll love seein’ you two ladies.”

When Buffy and Tara got to Willow’s home, they found Father Giles there also, having tea with Mrs. Cohan.

“Buffy, Tara,” Father Giles grinned happily, “it’s lovely to see you two fine ladies here. Must have been fate that brought us together.”

Buffy smiled warmly at the priest, she really did like the man. More then that, she admired him. A thought suddenly occurred to Buffy and she asked Father Giles if she might have a private word with him. If the other ladies thought anything of it, they showed no sign as the priest led Buffy to a small extra room in the Cohan home.

“I would like to confess, Father,” Buffy admitted simply, with a slight scowl on her pretty face. “It’s been years since my last confession, Father,” she muttered.

Father Giles gave her a surprised look, but bade her to sit in a chair while he glanced about for a Holy Book. After he found one, he sat across from her and took her tiny hand in his strong, large one.

“Speak your heart and soul, Elizabeth O’Hara and God shall surely forgive you any transgressions,” he chanted patiently.

Buffy hung her head down, sadly, but spoke clearly and loudly enough for the poor man to hear:

“Forgive me Father, for I have sinned most grieviously. I am a sinner of the worst magnitude. Before I married, for four years, to be exact, I accepted money from men in payment for sexual favors.”

Father Giles, gasped, audibly, but then nodded and asked Buffy to continue.

“I was a whore, a high priced harlot. Not fit to kiss the ground that my man, William O’Hara walks on. But I am sorry, Father, for my sinful past. I truly love my William, need him and want to be the perfect wife and mate for him. Will God ever forgive me, Father?”

She turned, tear-filled, enormous green eyes to the priest and searched his pale blue ones for absolution. The man before her frowned, momentarily, then pulled his hand from hers. He placed his huge, calloused right hand upon Buffy’s cheek and wiped the tears from it.

“Elizabeth,” he began, his voice shakey, but strong, “all of us have sinned in our lives. Even I have sinned, horribly, on God’s green earth. Some sins are worse then others, no question, and some sins ‘seem’ unforgiveable. However, I truly believe that if a person, such as yourself, and myself for that matter, truly, truly repents of those sins, then yes. God will forgive them. He will forgive you Elizabeth, of everything, every kind of sin in your past.”

The priest smiled, tenderly, at Buffy. She saw such kindnest and love in the old man’s eyes that she honestly wanted to believe him.

“Elizabeth, or I shall call you Buffy. It suits you more I think,” Father Giles chuckled softly as he wiped the tears from her other cheek.

“I am going to tell you something, my dear,” he continued, “that I’ve never told anyone in this fair town before. Not even your husband, or his family, and I was very close to your Will’s parents.”

“When I was a young man, much younger then your husband, closer to Angel O’Hara’s age,” he mumbled, his eyes on the Bible before him. “When I was barely seventeen, I killed a man.”

Buffy nearly jumped when the priest confessed ‘his’ grievious sin to her. She could not help but gasp in shock at this holy man’s admission. However, she sat, silently and listened as the priest relayed his sad tale.

“This man, a British man he was,” Father Giles continued, sorrowfully, “he offended my family. My younger sister to be exact. We, my family and I, we lived in the Southern part of Ireland and while we were not so grand, or so rich as this man’s family, we were proud people. My little sis, she was a beauty, even at fifteen and ‘this man’ well, she caught his eye.”

Father Giles stood up and began to pace around the room, anxious to finish the story, but seemingly nervous about telling Buffy.

“Go on, please Father,” Buffy coaxed the man gently.

The priest sighed heavily and shook his head, “my father hated the British, nearly as much as your poor William does. So, of course, my old man absolutely refused to allow the man at our doorstep, much less to court my sister. Mary Kate, that was my little sister’s name, God bless her. Anyway, the man caught Mary Kate out one day and not to be deterred, forced himself upon her.”

Buffy gasped again, her heart nearly broke for the priest and his poor sister, but she nodded at him. ‘He needs to get this out,’ she thought, ‘I have to hear him, like he did me.’

“Mary Kate became pregnant, with a little one from the rape. The man took off for England and my poor little sister, she…”
Father Giles choked back tears as he continued his story. “Mary Kate died in child birth, as did the poor babe. I was insane with hatred and followed the bastard to London.

Found him in a brothel one night and slipped into the room he was occupying. Threw the bought woman from the place and stabbed the poor bastard while he lay naked in her bed. I left London, my home in Southern Ireland and fled up here to Balleycastle. Local priests took me in and later, I took the vows of the Church.”

Buffy began to weep, softly, and the old man took her hands, once again in his. “It’s a hard world, Elizabeth,” Father Giles whispered honestly, “and if God above can forgive me for a sin like murder? Which, I know he has, then he can forgive you, my dear, for your sins. They are, your sins that is, far less damning then mine, certainly.”

He took Buffy in his strong arms and let her cry it out against his robe covered chest.

“There, there, lass,” he cooed as he stroked her honey blond hair. “You’re sorry for your past sins, it’s enough, I promise dear. Besides, you’ve brought such happiness to William, the only happiness he’s every known, I’m sure. And he loves you so very much. Please don’t let your past prey on your mind, or your soul any longer. You’ve a new life here, with your husband and new family. You love your William and you are happy, are you not?”

Buffy nodded quickly, wiping at her fresh tears, “very,” she responded simply.

“Then that’s the end of it, dear,” Father Giles smiled warmly. “You say ten Hail Mary’s and promise to sin like that no more. Which is a given, I’m sure and all will be well. I swear to you, dear Buffy,” he murmered softly, “you are forgiven and deserve to be happy in your new life.”

Later, after Tara and Willow had visited with Willow, her Mum, and Father Giles, the two women said their goodbyes. They went out on the street, headed back to the Chase Mercantile to meet with Will and Angel.

As they walked, Buffy and Tara chatted warmly, talking about everything under the sun. Buffy felt as if the weight of the world had been lifted from her slim shoulders and Tara did not ask what she had ‘discussed’ with Father Giles.

‘I know it will be fine now,’ Buffy thought to herself happily as she laughed at something Tara had said. ‘Father Giles is right, I do deserve to be happy here, with William.’

Just before Buffy and Tara reached the Mercantile, a strong, deep voice called out to them. It came from behind the two young women and carried over the regular noise of the somewhat busy city street.

“Elizabeth Summers!” came the loud, unfamiliar British voice from behind the girls. It was Tara that stopped and turned to see who called, apparently recognizing Buffy’s given name and checking to see who called her sister-in-law.

Buffy immediately froze in place, fear causing her to tense up and her heart to race like a horse. ‘Oh God,’ she gasped to herself, ‘please, God, don’t let that be someone I truly know. From the old days.’

Tara tapped Buffy’s slim shoulder and pointed to a dark-haired man who stood with, of all people, Riley Finn-Rayne. The ‘unknown’ man smiled widely at Buffy as he strode up to her and Tara, while Riley seemed as confused as the women were.

“Lizzy Summers?” came the greeting, again, “imagine me finding you here, in Balleycastle? You don’t remember me, Liz?” The somewhat good looking dark-eyed man pouted, slightly.

“I do not ‘know’ you sir,” Buffy stammered back to the man, her eyes on her sister-in-law, who looked as confused as Riley. “You are mistaken, my name is not Elizabeth Summers, it is Buffy O’Hara.”

However, the young man would not be deterred, “I’m Parker Abrams, from Bath. Remember? My boys and I we used to go to your ‘friend, Anya’s’ place in London to visit?” The man raised his right dark brow and grinned at Buffy, sure that she would now remember ‘him’ of course.”

“You are wrong, sir,” Buffy insisted, “not only have I never been to London, but I have no ‘friend’ by the name of Anya. Now, my sister-in-law and I, we have need to meet our family, my husband here,” she nodded down the street. Good day, sir.”

Buffy grabbed Tara’s arm and led her quickly down the street. She never once looked back at the confused, but still grinning Abrams man, or his companion, Riley Finn-Rayne.


A/N: Oh, oh….not of the good here. Please read and review. Thanks, luv Spuf

NA GRACH CROI


Chapter 12: ‘Diamair an Siurs’ (Secret of Sisters)


A/N: We’re going to detour, just a tad, from the regular Spike and Buffy POV in this chapter. I need to reveal a conversation, right away, between Riley and Parker. It’s important to the plot. Then we’ll go right back to our Spuffy POV’s. Thanks, Luv, Spuf


“Pity,” Parker Abrams chuckled to his good friend Riley Finn-Rayne, “about dear Elizabeth, or Lizzy as she was known better by, in London that is. I’d hoped when I first spied her, that she had perhaps struck out on her own, up here in Balleycastle. Set up her own ‘special’ brothel and all. Wish she had, but I guess not,” the man sighed wistfully.

“You cannot be serious,” Riley gasped in disbelif, “you still don’t believe that Buffy O’Hara is this Elizabeth person? She’s married to one of the most loved, although who the hell knows why, and respected farmers for miles around here.”

“I don’t give a rat’s arse who the hell Lizzy Summers is married to now,” Parker hissed back at his best friend. “I’d know that sweet little piece of skirt anywhere and I tell you, that’s Elizabeth/Lizzy Summers. I should know,” Parker winked at Riley, wickedly, “I paid enough money to fuck her as much as I could.”

Riley just stood there, in shock and watched the O’Hara family, that fuck Spike and his crippled brother, included, leave the Mercantile. Suddenly, a cruel smirk appeared on Riley’s moderately handsome face.

“I wonder if he knows?” Riley asked himself, outloud. Before Parker could respond, Riley answered his own quesiton, “nah, of course old Spike has no clue to his delectable little wife’s past. He’s too fucking proud, too full of himself and his family to ever knowingly marry a woman with that kind of past.”

“Do me a favor, friend,” Riley shot Parker an evil smile, “don’t mention this little fact to anyone. I mean anyone, anywhere. Let’s just keep this between the two of us, for a while that is. This just might work out to my Dad and my advantage, this interesting news about William O’Hara’s pretty little bride.”

Parker nodded his acceptance of the request, but sighed, heavily again in disappointment. “Really a damn shame, though,” Parker repeated, “Lizzy is well worth a month’s inheritance. I should know, Riley. I spent half a year of my Father’s allowance to me, just fucking her senseless. She does this thing, while you’re inside of her, with…..”

Riley leaned into his friend, closer, so Parker could privately tell him of the magical ‘powers’ of Lizzy, no, Buffy O’Hara. “No shit, man,” Riley laughed heartily, suddenly quite ‘interested’ in testing out Buffy’s skills himself.

Parker chuckled along with his friend, even while he slapped him, all manly like on his large back. Riley grinned at Parker and winked at him, quite wickedly.

“Maybe, after I’ve lowered the boom on old Spike,” Riley chortled wickedly, “after we’ve ripped his perfect little marriage apart, and his wonderful life? Maybe we can convince our Buffy to return to her former ‘life’. For our sakes, eh?”

The two men burst out into laughter and strolled off down the main street of Balleycastle. “I hope the hell so. I’ll be sweet Lizzy’s first customer, I assure you,” Parker added, loudly, his deep voice echoing through the street.





Buffy had sat, frozen in her seat, on the front of the buckboard, all the way back to the farm. She could feel her sister-in-law’s blue eyes, boring into her from the back seat.

William rambled on about something, Buffy hadn’t really been listening, so she had no idea what her husband was on about. He did seem to be quite happy about whatever it was, though.

When they got home, Buffy hurried into her and William’s house and even faster into their bedroom. She shut the door behind her and lay on the big bed her and William shared.

‘I cannot believe this!’ she mumbled, her tone was fearful, even to herself. ‘What the heck is Parker Abrams doing up here, in Northern Ireland?’

A soft tap on the door snapped Buffy out of her fearful thoughts. “Who is it?” she stammered, more then sure of the identity of the visitor.

“It’s me, Buffy,” came Tara’s soft, soothing voice. “May I come it? William is worried about you and….”

“Yes,” Buffy hissed out, trying not to sound too frightened or worried.

Tara opened the door and shuffled into her brother and his brides spacious room. She avoided looking at Buffy, instead choosing to peer out of the garden window, even as she sat on the little chair by the bed.

Finally, after what seemed like hours, Tara spoke. “You knew him, didn’t you, Buffy?” she asked softly. If Tara was judging Buffy in any way, she certainly did not show it. She just gazed at Buffy, almost studying her, looking for the truth in her sister’s green eyes.

“Yes,” Buffy whispered, barely hearing her own answer. “I ‘did’ know him, like he said.” Buffy turned her face away from Tara and stared at the nearest wall, her body began to shake, visibly.

“I see,” Tara murmered, her voice hushed and serious. “This Anya person, your ‘friend’ that this man mentioned. Is she the kind of friend I assume she is?”

Buffy turned to face Tara again, her green eyes were filled with hot tears, ‘yes’ she nodded at her husband’s sister. “She was my ‘mentor’ I guess you’d say,” Buffy answered truthfully. “My friend, yes, secondly, but my mentor first, or patroness, I suppose you could call Maam that. The truth is,” Buffy choked out, carefully, “Anya Jenkins runs the best, most high classed brothel in the civilized world. And me? I was her top whore, for four years, that is.”

Tara didn’t respond, right away, she just sat in the little chair, her hands folded in her lap, chewing on her bottom lip. “Oh,” Tara finally mumbled softly.

Suddenly, Tara stood up from the chair, instead sitting on the bed, right next to Buffy. She took her brother’s beloved wife’s tiny hand in hers and held it tightly.

“When you met William, in Belfast,” Tara stammered, “were you leaving here, like you said. To go home to America?” Buffy nodded ‘yes’ that she was.

“I wanted a new start,” she whispered to Tara, honestly, “I thought about heading out to California. It’s on the West Coast of the Country, and it’s beautiful. Full of promise, but I met Will and….”

Tara squeezed Buffy’s hand in hers and thought for a moment. “So, William, my brother, you just met him and fell in love? Like he did with you?”

“Yes,” Buffy answered simply.

“All right, then,” Tara sighed, “then I think it’s best for us, you and me to keep this thing, this past of yours between us. I do believe you convinced that horrible man in Balleycastle, that you are are not Elizabeth Summers, at least, not any more. And Buffy,” Tara gazed at the crying woman, tenderly, “I do believe you love my brother, William. You’ve brought such happiness to him, I could never threaten that with this information. Do you understand dear?”

Buffy looked at Tara, stunned. “You’re not going to tell Will?” she asked in surprise. “None of it?”

Tara shook her blond head, firmly, “no, none of it. Your past is your past, Buffy. It’s your business and concern, besides, like I said before, I cannot threaten the happiness of my darling big brother. I couldn’t, and wouldn’t.”

“I’ve lived a sheltered life, Buffy,” Tara admitted with a slight smile, taking in Buffy’s open, mouth and look of surprise. “However,” Will’s sister continued, “I’m not so sheltered to be naïve about some things in the world. I’ve a feeling, my sweet sister, that you were probably thrust into this fast life you’ve lived. Not by choice, perhaps, but by neccessity. Who am I to judge you?”

Buffy began to weep, softly and brought Tara’s hand to her own cheek. “Thank you,” she whispered, “for your silence.”

“Thank you,” Tara responded warmly. “Like I said, I’m not so naïve to the world, really. I know that a fine woman such as yourself has certain ‘intuitive’ ways about you. For instance,” Tara sighed, “I’m fully aware that you, yourself, are aware of Willow Cohan and my feelings for each other. Yet,” Tara smiled at Buffy, “you never once called me out on it. Said a thing to anyone or asked questions.”

“Not my business,” Buffy blushed and looked away from Tara.

“And your past, Buffy, is none of mine,” Tara nodded in response. “All I care about is my brothers, my family and of course, my Willow. You make my brother happy, that is all that is important to me.”

“Now,” Tara stood up and straightened her simple dress, “why don’t you rest a while. I’ll tell William that you are weary from the trip to Balleycastle and need some sleep. It is not a lie, I’m sure.”

She smiled at Buffy and quietly left the room.

Buffy lay, looking up the ceiling, her mind was working overtime. ‘It ‘will’ be okay,’ she assured herself, yet again. ‘It has to be, I love Will so much.’


“Sweet?” Spike looked in on his wife, who appeared to be asleep in their bed. He was concerned for his Buffy, she seemed so pale, so ill at ease. Especially after their trip to Balleycastle that day.

“Tara’s made up some supper for you, luv,” Spike offered to Buffy. “I’ll bring it in here, to you, if you want?”

Buffy turned to face her husband and immediately felt a tug at her heart. In fact, her heart seemed to skip at least two beats and jump up into her throat.

“I’m not hungry, Will,” Buffy whispered. “But I’d love it if you joined me, for a while anyway.”

Spike hurried into the bedroom, closing the door behind him and stripping off his clothes as fast as possible. He was happy to know that his beloved wife wanted him, in that way, which she obviously did.

When he’d stripped down to nakedness, Spike lay next to Buffy, who had divested of her clothing some time earlier. She reached out and took him in her slim arms, eagerly he noted.

“I love you William,” Buffy murmered into his ear as she stroked his naked bum, lovingly. “I’m so very happy with you, here on our farm. Thank you, for saving me that is.” She began to weep, softly, trying not to let her emotions overwhelm either of them.

“My baby,” Spike murmered into Buffy’s little ear, “my sweet, sweet, love. ‘You’ saved me, not the other way around.”

Buffy pulled William even closer to her warm body, making sure he understood her wants and needs. She ran her fingers down his strong chest, his hip bones, over his hard manhood.

“I want you,” Spike whispered, his voice husky with desire, “need you.” He positioned himself between Buffy’s silky thighs, but felt her stop him.

“This way,” Buffy hissed, her own desire was overcoming her. “This way, please Will.” She turned on her tummy, raising her hips up for him. “The old way,” she ordered firmly, “and hard, please, Will, make love to me, hard.”

Spike thrust into his wife, eagerly, pumping into her beautiful cunny with all of his strength. “Don’t want to hurt you, sweet,” he gasped as he pounded into her, overwhelmed by his Buffy’s responsiveness.

“You won’t,” she moaned in response. “I love it when you do this, love how you make love to me, Will. Please, please never stop loving me. Never.”

“Never’ll stop, baby,” he assured her. “Love you too much, too strong. I’ll be making love to you til the day I die, my love.”


A/N: Just wanted to have a sweet, Spuffy moment before the sh** hits the proverbial fan.

Thanks for reading, please review. Luv, Spuf

NA GRACH CROI


Chapter 13: ‘An a Brig Anois Carraid am Amhas’
(What a Piece Of Work Is Man)


A/N: This chapter will begin with a little ‘Shakespearean’ themed monologue by Buffy. (Mostly in her head that is). Although this is somewhat based on Romeo’s foreboding in that tale, the text of the monologue will contain quotes from The Bard’s ‘Hamlet’ Act II; Scene II.

Also, the loosely translated title is a little weird, and long. I know. The Irish Gaelic word ‘amhas’ actually translates loosely into; mad man, wild man, forceful man or more literally, a mercenary/mercenaries. Believe me, in future chapters, it will make sense, sadly. Since I always felt that this particular phrase from Shakespeare was ‘sarcastic’ in meaning, I thought this olde word would be suitable.



A warm wind blew across Buffy O’Hara’s sweet face, as she hung the day’s washing on the simple, strung line of string behind the O’Hara house. She savored the sweet warmth of the breeze, that blew her honey colored hair about her. As she went about her simple labor, she hummed to herself and thought about the last few months on her husband’s farm.

Buffy had never been happier, more content or more sure of her life’s situation. Things ‘seemed’ to be fine, for once in her existence and she thanked God, daily for it.

Her days were filled with hard work, yes, but toil that provided her with a true sense of accomplishment and contentment, well earned. The nights, her’s and Will’s, together, were filled with love and passion, such that she had never known before in her short life.

Distracted from her work, Buffy accidently dropped a silken blouse, one of hers, in the dirt below her feet. For some reason, the sight of the simple white material, lying there, already filthy in the muck, caused her to be suddenly saddened.

Before she could bend down to retrieve the now dirtied blouse, Buffy was reminded of her sad, broken Mother, Joyce. She had died too soon, in the dank, filth of a poor man’s hospital in New York City, over four years before this.

‘The cough’ is what the those old fools at that nasty place had called it. ‘The filthy, dirty, ugly cough’ of the lungs. It was that very night, the night of her Mama’s death, that Buffy stumbled upon Anya Jenkins and her ‘gentleman’ and became what she had been for the past four years. A woman of the night, a creature of darkness and sin.

All those years, all four of them, Buffy never felt the joy of true love, or hope or any feeling of humanity that might have existed in the world.

As Buffy stared at the now soiled little white blouse, upon the ground, she remembered something her Mama used to read to her.
For some unfathomable reason, Buffy chose to recite the words, out loud, but softly:




‘What a piece of work is man! How noble in reason! How infinite in faculty! In form, in moving, how express and admirable? In action, how like an angel! In apprehension, how like a God!’

‘The beauty of the world; the paragon of animals. I have of late, but wherefore I know not, lost all my mirth…..’

“Do not ever lose faith in the world, Buffy, my darling,” Mama had told her, time and again. “Always hold out hope, never give up.” But she had, Buffy had that is. She gave up on the world and mankind years before. In the filthy waiting room of a poor man’s hospital, just after her beloved Mother had died of the cough. Not once, not in the four years since, had Buffy ever wistfully hoped to regain her faith in mankind or the world again. But, then William O’Hara had entered her life.


“Mama thought reading me Shakespeare, that it would class me up, make me something I was not. Nor ever could be,” she sighed sadly.

‘But, then again, maybe she was right to think it,’ Buffy reassured herself, hopefully. ‘I am here, now on my Will’s farm. And I love him, and he loves me. Nothing will ever change that. Nothing.’


“Buffy?” Will’s deep voice brogue broke her painful rememberances, “are you all right darling?”

Spike looked at his wife, her face was closed and distant, something he was not used to. His Buffy had been open and honest, loving and warm, from the moment they had met in Belfast.

“My blouse,” Buffy whispered, sadly, “it’s soiled now and I…..”

William bent to retrieve the blouse, then wrapped his unencumbered arm about Buffy. He kissed the side of her warm, slightly damp cheek, lovingly.

“It’s fine, lass,” he purred, taking the wash basket from her tiny hands. “Let’s go in now, have our lunch together and talk. I’ve missed you today, out there in that lonely potatoe field. Even Angel and Xander together’ll for hours will never replace a minute with you, my sweet.”

They ate their simple lunch, the one Buffy had prepared and talked quietly together. Will and her.

Buffy savored these quiet moments together, when they were totally alone with each other. Somehow, these times were more intimate, in some ways, then when they were making love in their bed together. Or, in the barn, together, or in the creek, or….

Spike loved these moments with Buffy, alone together. They were right up there, almost, that is, with the time they spent making love together in their bed. He smirked, silently, remembering the other places that he and his Buffy had made love.

“Will,” Buffy smiled up at her husband, “I’m so very happy here. With you, your family. I love you so much and….” She burst out into tears, burying her face in her hands.

“Buffy, baby,” Spike jumped up from his chair and joined her at hers. Wrapping his arms around her, he began to rock her genltly, almost cooing to her.

“What is it, luv,” he murmered, “stroking her soft, golden head, lovingly.”

Her muffled response was barely a whisper, “I just worry. That something will try and hurt us. Take us away from each other, Will. I could not bear it if that happened. I could not,” she wept the words to him.

“Neither could I,” Spike rasped in response, “and it’s not going to happen Princess. I promise that nothing, or no one will ever split us apart. I love you too much.”

Buffy wiped her tears and smiled, finally into Will’s now damp shirt front. She grinned up at him and he kissed her lips, gently.

“Will,” she began, carefully, “I have something I need to tell you.”

Suddenly, a loud, heavy knock sounded at the O’Hara front door. Followed by a deep, familiar voice.

“Spike,” came Xander Harris’ booming, welcome greeting. “You need to get out here, now, man.”

Spike gave Buffy a puzzled look and hurried to the front door. The look on his friend and worker’s face gave him an uneasy feeling.

“What’s wrong, Xander?” Spike asked anxiously.

“It’s that fool Ethan Finn-Rayne, riding this way. I spotted him coming up the road. He’s got that worthless piece of dung, sorry Buffy, of a son with him, that Riley. Him and some equally stupid looking others along for the ride. I recognize a couple of them, they’re the idiots that follow Riley around like puppies, but the third? He’s a new face to me.”

Buffy suddenly felt faint. A wave of fear, no make that terror, swept over her. ‘Parker Abrams,’ her mind taunted her. At that moment, she decided to stay in her home, not venture out again until after these horrible men left this farm.

“Stay inside, baby,” Spike ordered his wife, sternly. “I’ll take care of this. Xander,” he continued, “go get Angel, have him tell Tara to keep indoors, too.”

Now, Buffy was truly terrified with these turn of events. She watched as her husband went to the closet and pulled a rifle and a gun out of it. That’s when she remembered seeing Xander with a rifle also. ‘Oh God,’ Buffy began to shake in fear, ‘the Raynes, they’ve come to try and persuade Will to sell them our farm.’

Spike loaded his guns, glancing at his wife, a serious expression on his face. ‘I knew this fucking day would come,’ he reasoned, ‘just didn’t know it’d be today. Fucking Raynes, I hate their fucking guts.’

“I mean it, baby,” he repeated, seriously, “you stay in this house and don’t step outside. Understand?”

Buffy nodded, too afraid to say a word in response. Finally she asked, anxiously, “do you think they have guns Will?”

Spike shruggred nervously, though he doubted that Rayne would be so stupid to bring armed men to his home. Fact of the matter was, Ethan Rayne was not stupid, just corrupt and well, evil. No, Spike figured this was just a little call from the Raynes, to try and talk him into selling the O’Hara farm.

‘Cold day in bloody hell,’ he snorted to himself. He walked, slowly over to his wife and took her in his arms again.

“It’ll be fine, sweet,” he murmered in her ear. “The Raynes and me, we’ll talk and then I’ll run their worthless arses off our land, for good. Angel and Xander will be with me. You’ll see, it’ll be fine. Promise.”


A/N: Sigh…I began this chapter with the full intent of having Spike find out about Buffy’s past (in one way or another), but…I decided, no. Next chapter. I wanted to explore the motivations, on Buffy’s part, for her past life. Just a little more, that is, to drum up a little more sympathy for her character in this fiction. I brought the Joyce card in for drama…Promise, next chapter, Spike will find out about Buffy. How will he react? Well, this is Spike, right? Thanks for reading, please review. Luv, Spuf

NA GRACH CROI


Chapter 14: ‘A Millionem Cladh Smuais’
(A Million Broken Pieces)


A/N: Short chapter. This is the catalyst that brings the truth to the surface.


By the time Ethan Finn-Rayne and his entourage had reached the front porch of the O’Hara farmhouse, Spike, Xander and Angel were there, waiting for them. All three men held rifles, but only Spike had a regular gun, also.

“Afternoon, Spike,” Ethan Rayne greeted the eldest man, amicably. “Thought I’d stop by, have a talk with you, boy.”

“I’m not a boy, Ethan,” Spike responded through his gritted teeth. I am older then your own son and frankly, we’ve nothing to talk to each other about.”

“Come on, Spike,” Ethan chuckled, ignoring the cold tone in young O'Hara’s voice. “Your folks and me, we were good friends, you and me should be too. Invite me into your home, son, have a talk with me. I promise, I’ll offer you a deal of the cards that you’ll find tempting?”

“Our folks,” Spike hissed as he nodded at his younger brother, Angel, “were never friends of yours. And, I would not ask you into my home, where my wife lives with me, if God himself ordered me to. So, take your dog and pony show and get the fuck off my land.”

Ethan Rayne looked past pissed by this point and Spike made sure that none of his men were carrying guns. They didn’t seem to be, which struck Spike as a little odd. Riley, alone, was never anywhere without a gun on him somewhere. Why not now?

“Well at least let young Parker here say hello to your wife, Spike,” Ethan purred, but through gritted teeth. “He’s quite sure he met her in London, in fact, he’s more then sure.”

“Mr. O’Hara,” a tall, dark haired stranger called out, amicably, “I’ve come to pay my respects to your lovely wife. We ‘socialized’ in London at Miss Anya’s ‘home’ there. Old friends we are, Lizzy and I.”

Spike bristled at this man’s looks and the smug tone in his voice. He took an instant hate to the good looking young man and wondered how he knew Buffy or her cousin.

‘He’s lying,’ he tried to convince himself, ‘but he said Anya’s home. Buffy’s cousin?’

“My wife doesn’t wish to speak to any of you, mate,” he growled back at the man. “I’m sure you’re mistaken about knowing her. She’s never been to London.”

‘At least, that’s what she told me,’ Spike reassured himself that this fool was sadly mistaken about Buffy. ‘Why did he call her Lizzy? Wasn’t that a nickname for Elizabeth?’

Finally, Angel spoke up, “my brother’s wife wouldn’t give any of you a second glance. Get off our farm, Rayne,” the dark haired O’Hara shot Ethan a murderous look, then glanced back at his friend Xander Harris, nervously.

Spike began to feel more ‘uneasy’ by the minute. As much as he was convinced that this fuck, Parker was it? As much as he was sure the man was lying, how the hell did the this arse know Buffy’s given name and the name of her cousin?

“I know her,” Parker piped up, his voice was firm and rang with conviction. “Elizabeth, or Lizzy, as she went by in London, was the favorite ‘girl’ at Miss Anya’s ‘home’ and I’m standing by that. Only the best class of ‘males’ were allowed to fraternize with Lizzy. Only British officers, sons of the upper class and I was one of them.”

Spike was beginning to see red, especially when he heard the crude, raucous laughter of Ethan Rayne and his companions. Without giving it any thought, Spike lifted his rifle and pointed it right at Parker, cocking back the safety and glaring at the liar with narrowed eyes.

“You are a fucking liar,” Spike roared at Parker, “and for that, I’m going to blow your worthless head off. No one talks about my wife like that.”

A sense of doubt began to overwhelm Spike. He felt the doubt, followed by a wave of panic that ultimately began a spiral into anger.

Old Ethan Finn-Rayne must have sensed a ‘change’ in Spike’s attitude, or his demeanor, because the old sot shot him a smug grin.

“Surely, Spike, my boy,” Ethan mumbled, loudly enough, “you knew your bride had a giving, loving nature when you wed her?”

Again, Ethan, Riley, Graham, Doyle and even Parker chuckled amongst themselves. Spike felt his trigger finger itch, the sense of impending doom began to overtake him once more.

‘How can they laugh?’ he wondered to himself, a little in awe. ‘I’ve got a rifle aimed at this Parker idiot’s head and they still laugh like I’m the fool.’

Spike tried to regain some composure and common sense. He took a deep breath and looked over at his brother, Angel. It shocked the eldest O’Hara to see a look of sympathy in his younger sibling’s dark brown eyes.

Shaking off his sudden horror, Spike set his glare back on the bastard that dared lied about his Buffy. Keeping his gaze on the group of men on horseback, Spike shouted out, loud enough for Buffy to hear him from inside the house.

“Buffy,” Spike yelled evenly, “come out here, please.”

Angel cleared his throat and muttered, “not the best idea, brother.”

Xander was looking very anxious, but the Raynes and their companions looked quite calm, Spike noticed. He called again to his wife, “Buffy, Princess, come out here now.”

The front door of the house opened and Spike expected his beautiful wife to come out to him. Instead, his sister Tara appeared. She was pale as a ghost and looked terrified. Spike realized that Tara must have slipped into the house by the back entrance and joined Buffy inside.

“Buffy’s not feeling well, William,” Tara stammered, keeping her blue eyes on Ethan Rayne. It was a well known fact, locally, that the elder Rayne had set his sights on Tara O’Hara for a second wife, him being a widower and all. Tara, however, detested Ethan, but perhaps she could difuse this awkward situation.

“You are looking lovely, as usual, Miss Tara,” Ethan Rayne purred at the stately woman.

“Thank you, Ethan,” Tara responded coolly, “but I must ask you, why are you doing this? Here, and now? Why are you bringing chaos to this doorstep?”

It was in that instant that Spike realized that if what this stranger, Parker, was saying, if it had any shred of truth to it? Tara knew something, it was obvious. She was just too collected and calm and Spike knew both she and Buffy had heard the loud conversation from inside the house.

“Just wanted young Parker to pay his due to your brother’s wife, Tara,” Ethan sighed. “I guess we figured that Spike there knew of his wife’s ‘past’ so to speak.”


“Buffy!” Spike roared like a lion into the house. “Come here, lass! Now!”


Buffy appeared, timidly from the house, her eyes downcast. She took her place by her husband’s side and finally looked up at him.

Spike saw doubt in his Buffy’s beautiful green eyes. Saw the pain and fear the dwelled deep within those emerald orbs. In that instant, Spike realized the truth, at least most of it. Some of what this fuckhead said, Parker was it? Some of it was the truth. He felt his heart breaking into a million pieces.

“Do you know him,” Spike swallowed hard as he asked his Buffy, his angel, his Goddess, to tell him the truth. “If you do not, then just say it and I’ll blow his worthless head into a thousand pieces. For lying about you, my sweet.”

Buffy flinched and began to rub her hands together, nervously. She looked up, again, at her husband, the man she loved. Then, she met Parker Abrams gaze, saw the smirk her ex-customer wore fade into a sad, sympathetic frown.

“Yes,” Buffy whispered, her voice barely audible to anyone but her and her Will. “I know this man, well,” she finished, her voice racked with pain and shame.

“Oh God,” Spike groaned out his own pained torment as he lowered his gun and then dropped it on the front porch in defeat.

Buffy did not hesitate, she ran into the house, slamming the front door behind her. By the time she made it to the bedroom, she was sobbing wildly. She rushed into the bedroom and closed the door behind her, locking it before it clicked shut.

Without waiting a moment, Buffy dragged her little suitcase out and began to pull her clothing from closets and drawers. She literally threw them into her case, crying like a disappointed child as she did.

“Over,” she sobbed in sorrow, “over in less then a few months. I’m a fool, a fool,” Buffy chanted as she finished her packing. “A foolish whore. How pathetic is that?”


A/N: I had this big, everyone finds out kind of scenario planned, then they freak out, but then I thought that it might be a little ‘too’ soap operish. It was going to be really sappy, with all of the characters present throwing some comment in there. Actually, I was going to write the first ‘gut’ reactions by Spike in this chapter then changed my mind. The next chapter will be dark, ugly and very sad, I think anyway. Sigh…thanks for reading, please review. Luv, Spuf

NA GRACH CROI


Chapter 15: ‘Liuth Doruinn’ (More Pain/Torment)


A/N: A slight warning here:

There will be name calling and anger in this chapter. I’m not sure if I’m happy with the way the chapter turned out, but here it is. I am giving a rape ‘warning’ for this and an alert to physical/sexual violence. Thank you. Luv, Spuf


Spike stood, dumbfounded on his own front porch. He could not bring himself to look at anyone there, not even his sister, Tara, who stood just inches from him.

Finally, he looked up at Ethan Finn-Rayne and the others on horseback. “Get off my land,” he ordered in a deadly calm voice. “Get off and don’t return here. Or I’ll kill everyone of you.”

Without another word, Ethan and his entourage turned their horses about and left the O’Hara front yard. Spike watched them leave, his emotions were a mix of relief, anger and hatred. He just couldn’t figure out ‘who’ those emotions were geared at.

“William,” Tara began softly, reaching out to touch her brother’s arm, “I…”

“Angel,” Spike ordered gruffly, “take our sister and go home to your place, now.” He flinched from his lovely sister’s touch and turned away from her.

“Spike,” Angel began, tentively, “maybe it’s best for us to all go back into your home and…..”

“No!” Spike hissed, “I want you to take Tara and go home to your house. I need to be alone with my wife now.”

Tara whimpered as Angel took her arm and led her down the front porch. “William,” she called back to the eldest O’Hara, “please, listen to me, I only wanted to help and…..”

Spike ignored his sister’s pleas and glared at Xander Harris, his blue eyes were cold and ‘almost’ indifferent.

“Go home to your family, Xander,” he ordered his employee.

“Spike,” Xander stammered, nervously, his dark eyes darting between his employer and his front door. “Maybe I should stick around? Make sure everything is okay?”

“Go home,” Spike commanded Xander, sternly. Then he turned his back on the taller, dark-haired man and stormed into his home.

The first thing Spike noticed was the bedroom door, slammed shut and probably locked. ‘Like a fucking locked door will keep me out, Buffy?’ he growled under his breath. His voice was shakey from threatening tears, but he did not try to stop them.

Instead of confronting his wife, immediately, Spike put away the guns, strode to the dining cabinet and pulled out a full bottle of whiskey. He unscrewed the cap and took a long, deep swallow of the burning liquid.

Spike could swear he heard his wife crying from behind their closed bedroom door. As he paced back and forth in the front room, he would stop and glare at the bedroom door, angrily listening to his Buffy’s sobs. The ‘sympathetic’ emotions that reared their head, from deep inside him, Spike pushed back down, even deeper.

‘Do whores cry?’ he asked himself in disbelief. ‘Fuck, I wish she’d stop that shit and just come out and face me. I…..’

He began to pace again, aimlessly walking back and forth around the room, stopping to take long deep swallows of whiskey from time to time. After about an hour of this nonsense, Spike noticed that Buffy had stopped crying, loudly anyway. In fact, he noted that there was no sound at all coming from the bedroom. Suddenly, he was no longer worried or anxious about Buffy, he realized he was totally enraged at her.

‘Fucking bitch,’ he muttered, ‘fucking bitch ruined my life. Lied to me, misled and humiliated me. She’s probably laughing behind her hand at me and has been from the start. I should kill that bitch and be done with her…’ But he knew, in his heart and soul, that these were only idle thoughts, wrought from horrible emotional pain. Spike could no more kill Buffy, then he could ever be without her again.

Without thinking, Spike flung the now almost empty whiskey bottle across the living room. It hit the farthest wall and shattered into a hundred pieces.

‘Oh God,’ Spike moaned in regret, “Buffy just cleaned that floor and….” He pushed his remorse down inside of him and spun around to face the offensive closed door once more.

Stalking up to the closed door, he grabbed the door knob and turned it. ‘Yup,’ he growled, ‘locked.’

“Open this door, Buffy,” he ordered in a menacing voice.

No answer, no sound of movement. Nothing.

“I told you to open the God damned door, woman,” he roared this time.

Again, no answer or sound came from the bedroom. As if there was no other human in it.

Buffy sat on the bed, staring at the wall closest to her side. After she cried, for nearly an hour, she just collapsed on the bed and listened to William storming around outside the bedroom door.

She was well aware that he was alone, and drinking, probably heavily. That was confirmed when she heard the presumed whiskey bottle hit the living room wall and shatter all over the floor. Whatever else happened, there was no way that Buffy was going to open the bedroom door and face Will now. She just couldn’t do it, she was too much of an emotional coward.

Spike leaned his forehead up against the bedroom door and took a deep breath. ‘If she doesn’t open this door,’ he hissed, ‘I’ll fucking break it down!’

Without waiting another minute, Spike reared back from the oaken door and kicked it, full force, with his left foot. The lock broke immediately and the door flew open as Spike stumbled into the bedroom.

Before he faced his wife, Spike turned and slammed the ruined door closed, noting smugly, that at least it still stayed shut. When he spun around again to confront Buffy, he saw she now stood, her tiny hands were clenched at her sides and she looked terrified.

As he closed the gap between them, Buffy stepped back from him until she was up against the wall. Through gritted teeth and narrowed eyes, Spike rasped, “was it all lies Buffy? Everything? You were never married, were you?” He began to answer his own questions, his voice was low and rough.

“You made that shit up to cover the reason you were used, right? Didn’t want me to think you’d given it up to some random bloke before me, isn’t that right, precious?”

Buffy was pale as a ghost and her green eyes were wide in fear. She tried to turn her face away from Will, but he reached out and pulled it back to meet his gaze.

“Convenient,” Spike hissed, “your little story about your poor dead husband. Tell, me, sweetheart, was there a nice older fuck with the name of Scott Hope that frequented your whore house? That where you got the name?”

Will’s blue eyes bore right into Buffy’s, into her soul and what she saw in those orbs terrified her even more. She swallowed hard and tried to say something, anything to halt this endless interrogation by her husband.

“No,” she whispered in a strained voice, “he really was a man my family knew. A nice man, in New York, he…..”

“Oh,” Spike smirked evilly, “that’s nice. But did you get around to fucking him too, before you pulled up stakes and hit London?”

Buffy reached up to slap her husband’s clenched jaw, but he grabbed her hand in mid swing. It was true, of course, Buffy had been a whore for four years, but the tone in Will’s voice, his angry, hateful eyes were killing her. In whole, it drove her to the somewhat violent act.

Spike felt his anger beginning to subside and regret started to replace it. He loved this woman, dearly, with all of his heart and soul, he loved her. It would just kill him if not any of the last three months had been real, at least not for her. What if Buffy ‘had’ just used him? Not really loved him? Whores were excellent actresses, everyone knew that and what if his Buffy was just acting like she cared at all for him.

Again, his heart broke into a million pieces and he shook his head, violently, to stop the tears that threatened to fall from his eyes. He was in so much pain and torment, all because of Buffy’s lies and he could not let himself fall into some sympathetic self-blame game. This was all Buffy’s fault, no one elses and she was going to pay dearly for this. His pride demanded that, at least.

“What the hell is this,” Spike growled, pointing at Buffy’s little suitcase. It sat next to the bed, all packed and ready to go.

“I asked you, what the hell is that?” Spike raised his voice again and clasped Buffy’s shoulders with his massive hands. He pushed her back up against the wall.

“I, I thought it best if I was ready to leave, before you forced me to.” Her body and voice were trembling in fear and she tried to pull away from Will’s hands. Even with all of her years of experience into the male psyche, Buffy was not prepared to face this horror.

“I thought you’d want me off the place, soon as possible. So I saved you the trouble of packing for me.” The pain was evident in her voice, she knew, but she stuck out her chin almost defiantly and met his deadly glare. ‘Better to stand my ground, stand tough and get out, before…’

“You’ve no fucking idea what ‘I’ want, Buffy,” Spike responded in a deadly calm voice. “Thought you did, once, but now? Anyway, you’re not going anywhere, not away from me. Not anywhere.” He set his mouth in a firm, hard line and his eyes were nearly slits.

“Will,” Buffy began, her voice barely a whisper, “this is impossible. I know how proud you are, it’s one of the things I love about you. You’ll never, ever be able to get past this ugliness of my past.” She began to weep again, softly and looked away from his beautiful blue eyes. It was killing her to say these things.

“What do you know about love?” he growled at her. “You never loved me, just used me to get away from your past. Though why? I can’t figure that out. I thought most whores loved the life and hated to leave it. Unless some rich old fuck came along and set them up in high style. Look around you, luv,” Spike grimmaced and glanced about the room, then glared back at her. “This look like ‘high style’ to you?”

Buffy flinched at the verbal slap and the tone in her man’s voice. Will’s strong, deep voice was now nearly slurred from the whiskey, or his emotional pain. Or both. The words from his lovely mouth were horrible, hateful and so very angry. They frightened Buffy, yes, but they hurt her more.

“I was already leaving the life, Will,” Buffy tried to explain. “I ‘was’ on my way home to America when we met in Belfast. Even thought of heading out West, to California. Thought I might set up a dress shop there, or something. Get a new start.”

She noticed that Will’s eyes softened, just a little, when she told him this. ‘Believe me, my darling,’ she pleaded silently. ‘At least believe this and when I’m gone, you can go on. Knowing I did love you and didn’t just use you.’

“Liar,” Spike hissed huskily, his eyes filled with disbelief, “you’re lying, you are and…” Sadly, his tears chose that moment to win out. They began to slip out of his eyes and slide down his cheeks. He could not have been more ashamed of his weakness.

“Why,” he groaned sadly, “why’d you do it, Princess? Any of it? The whoring? That lifestyle? Me? Why?”

Buffy sighed, wiped her own tears with the back of her hand and took a deep breath again. She wanted to get this right, tell the truth and leave William with some dignity left for himself.

“I could tell you, everything, Will,” she murmered, her green eyes half closed. “I could tell you about my Mother, her death in a New York slum hospital. Could even relay all of my revulsion and hatred for myself, at least from the first night I met Anya Jenkins. But,” she paused and met his pained gaze again. “It would do no good, Will,” she finally continued, honestly.

“All the things in my life, that led up to that night, in New York when this all started? They are not enough, there is not enough excuses in my pathetic life to ever ‘fix’ this now.”

Spike just stared at Buffy, his breath was coming in short, heavy pants and he felt like he was going to be sick. She was so beautiful, he loved her so much and how the fuck was he going to do this? Breathe after this?

“If I could just borrow Sucra, Will,” Buffy broke the silent tension, with soft words. “I could ride to Balleycastle, now and be there quickly. I’ll leave Sucra with Father Giles and be on the first train out of the city and your life, before sunset. I’m sure Father Giles will immediately start the proceedings for a ‘treachd dealaich’ especially after all of this. You…..”

He had been listening to Buffy’s ramble, quietly, but when she said the Olde Irish for ‘legal split’ the anger within him began to rise again. Pulling her tiny body to his, roughly, he roared, “you sure as fuck know that Olde phrase, don’t you, sweet?”

“I, was trying to learn some of it, for you, to please you,” she stammered, her head buried against his chest. ‘I love his chest,’ she sniffed sadly, ‘so strong and…’

In one swift movement, Spike flung Buffy on the bed and then grabbed her suitcase. He pulled the closet doors open and tossed the whole packed bag inside, slamming the doors behind.

“You’re not going anywhere,” Spike rasped as he turned to face his stunned wife once more. “You will stay here, with me. I’ll be damned to Hell, twice, if I’m going to set you free and let you run back to your whore’s life. Anywhere.”

“I told you, Will,” Buffy mumbled, “I’m going home to America. Start over there. You can’t think that my staying here will ever be right, not now. Our love will turn to hate and you will never be able to forget this. Or forgive me.” She was trying to reason with him, but she was terrified. Buffy did not like this ‘scary’ side of her husband, not one bit.

“You’re staying,” Spike roared at her. He now stood over her, frowning down at his beautiful wife. The woman he loved and who he had thought loved him. “I’m not letting you go, ever. Do you understand?”

“Will,” Buffy began to cry again, in desperation, “this is awful, all of this. If I stay, like I said, we will grow to hate each other. You know that Ethan Rayne has probably told everyone within a hundred miles of this place about me. About us and what happened today.”

Spike flinched at the thought of that, but shook off his humiliation and shook his head violently. “Don’t give a fuck,” he responded, “and a whore like you can’t be so ‘tender skinned’ that gossip would bother you. Right?”

She tried to get up, Buffy did, but he pushed her back down on the bed and held her there. “This is wrong, Will, please,” Buffy began to plead with him. “It’s better if I go, now and we make a clean break. I can’t live like this. Knowing you want me, but probably hate me, deep inside. I’ll wither and die, like our marriage. I have to go now.”

“Live with it,” Spike glowered down at her again, “I will. You’re staying and rendering services that I’ve paid for. God knows I’ve paid dearly for them.” His venomous words, the cruel tone in his voice made even Spike cringe once more.

The look on his angel’s face nearly broke his heart. ‘She can’t leave me, I can’t let her. Love her too much, I have to keep her at all costs.’ He was trying, desperately, to convince himself that Buffy should stay, live with this mess of a situation.

“We can be miserable together,” he added with a smirk. “But ‘together’ we will be.”

Spike began to strip off his clothes, slowly, watching Buffy with narrowed eyes. She looked like a trapped animal and it made the sensitive poet within him nearly sick. But the harsh, violent man, the one he’d always tried so hard to keep at bay, kept taunting him.

‘She’s yours, do what you want with her, Spike,’ that beast within him purred. ‘Thinks she’s going to walk out on you? Don’t think so mate. You ‘own’ her and everything that comes with her. Delicious, isn’t she? And, all yours to control.’

“I am not having sex with you, Will,” Buffy said softly, staring at his knees of all things. She figured out that her husband had suddenly decided to use sex to do what? Dominate her? Keep her there? Why would he want sex with her now, anyway? Especially after all the lies that were exposed today.

“Oh, but you are, sweet,” Spike chuckled wickedly. “Like I said, I’ve paid a dear price for your services. I intend on getting my money’s worth, right now.”

He pulled off his pants and stood stark naked in front of her, his right hand still holding her on the bed. “Get undressed,” he ordered firmly, letting up on her, just a little.

“No,” Buffy responded with determination. “I can’t, Will, it’ll be just too ugly if we do this now and…”

Spike wasted no time, he leaned over and ripped Buffy’s dress from her body. Being a strong man, he was able to tear the dress in half, like paper.

“No!” Buffy exclaimed, her voice took on a high pitched whine and she tried to escape her husband’s huge hands. She tried to beat his hands away from her body, but to no avail. Before she could roll off the bed and get out of the room, William pulled her back over and pinned her little body with his.

“Yes!” he roared before smashing his lips onto hers.

“Mine,” he roared louder and tore Buffy’s knickers from her. “You’re mine and I get to do whatever I want with you.”

Thrusting into her, ignoring the fact that she was not ‘ready’ for him. Spike didn’t even try to be gentle, not this time. Buffy was his wife, his property and he could use her any way he wanted.


A/N: This wasn’t too bad, right? I made it a little more ‘tame’ then I had once intended. Thanks for reading, please review. Luv, Spuf

NA CRACH CROI


Chapter 16: ‘Anadas’ (Regret)


Spike was aware of the evening shadows, dancing their way about the now quiet bedroom. Quiet that is, except for the soft, gentle weeping of his wife who lay next to him, like a hurt child, facing the wall. Actually, Buffy was huddled so far away from him on her side of the bed, that she was nearly falling off of it.

‘Oh God,’ he groaned in self-disgust, ‘how could I have done this terrible thing?’

William the poet wanted to reach out, take her in his arms and comfort her. If she would allow him to, that is. Something told him that she would never ‘allow’ him to touch her again, in any way. The remaining pieces of his heart shattered completely into shards and slivers, like weak glass.

“Buffy, luv,” Spike whispered and timidly reached out and gently touched her shoulder. His earlier fears were confirmed when she shunned his hand and pulled even further away from him. Her soft crying became louder sobs and Spike felt his anger and jealousy begin to overtake him, again.

‘Why the fuck should she be crying?’ his inner Spike voice spat. ‘I’m the injured party here, the humiliated one. She’s lucky I didn’t throw her arse out on the front lawn and make her walk to Balleycastle! Run her completely out of Northern Ireland!’

Even as Spike’s anger tried to take over, his tender nature succeeded in pushing it back down, again. After a few moments, Spike felt nothing but shame, horror and revulsion at himself for the horrible words he had said to his beloved wife. Then what he’d done after, in rage? How could he ever forgive himself, much less expect Buffy to forgive him? Even if she had ever truly loved him, she would never forgive him for this. Never.

In an act of cowardice and fear, unable to face his wife, for many reasons? William the poet flung himself from the bed, grabbed his discarded clothes and raced for the bedroom door. He dressed himself as he headed to the back door of the house. Once, in the barn, he saddled his horse, Iarann, and rode hell bent for leather out of the yard and straight for Balleycastle.

‘I can’t stay there, not now, not tonight,’ he chanted to himself as he rode like a demon to town. ‘I’m afraid I’ll harm her again. Oh fuck it all, I need to talk to my priest.’

Buffy felt her husband leave the bed, his desperate actions alerted her that William was in terrible torment. She lay, frozen still, in the same position, until she heard the back door of the house slam. When the retreating hoofbeats of, Will’s horse confirmed her husband’s absence, only then did Buffy sit up on the bed. Her body was okay, not too sore from the violent sex she had just endured, but her spirit felt broken and dead.

With a heavy heart, Buffy rose from the bed and went to the kitchen to fetch some stored water there. She needed to clean herself up and pull her thoughts together, quickly. Although she was relieved that Will had left the farm, hopefully for a long while, she was worried about him.

‘That’s a laugh,’ Buffy snorted as she rinsed her flushed face with the tepid water from the basin. ‘Me being worried about Will. I hope he falls off Iarann and breaks his stupid neck.’ As soon as she thought it, Buffy was ashamed of herself. Not only did she not wish harm to her beloved William, she wanted him to be happy and safe. However, at the moment, Buffy just did not feel that either Will or herself would be ‘happy or safe’ as long as she dwelled in this house.

“I should leave, tonight, now,” Buffy reasoned with herself out loud. “With William gone, for some time, anyway, I can saddle Siucra and make my way to Balleycaslte. But what if…..”

Buffy had to accept the fact that William had probably gone to Balleycastle. It certainly ‘sounded’ like that’s the direction he headed in. If Buffy headed off to town, she might likely run right into William and the hellish nightmare of earlier might be repeated.



‘Why would Will go to town? To what?’ she wondered sadly. ‘Find out how much the good townfolk know about his whore wife? Go to a pub and get drunker? Talk to Father Giles…’

This thought struck Buffy as being the reasonable one. Father Giles was like a, well, Father to Will and it was natural that he would go to the priest to seek solace.

“Besides,” Buffy whispered sadly, “I would probably never make it to Balleycastle in the dark. Sunset is near, I’d get less then halfway before the night set in and then what? Stumble into Balleycastle like a common street whore and face off with the ones that only come out at night? Wouldn’t that be the icing on the cake for everyone if I ran into the human ‘creatures’ of the night?”

Buffy stumbled back into the bedroom and collapsed back on the bed, her heart and soul more injured then her lower body. However, she did feel quite queasy, even somewhat dizzy.

‘I was going to tell him,’ she thought sadly, little tears began again to slip down her cheeks. ‘Now, I’ll probably never tell him anything again.’

When she looked up at the ceiling, Buffy’s mind was overcome with the happy memories of all the times she and Will made love in this bed together. For some reason, this gave Buffy a bittersweet sense of comfort and she allowed the pleasant thoughts to envelope her. It was not ten minutes before she dropped off to sleep.

Spike made it to Father Giles’ parrish house just as the sun fell behind the western green hills. He tied Iarann to the hitching post and strode up to the front door of the priest’s home. After taking a deep breath, for courage, Spike pounded on the door of the house located next to the Holy Church. For the first time in his life, Spike was actually relieved that the Church sat nearly a mile outside of the town limits.

Father Giles opened the door and gave Spike a once over look, then motioned him inside. The priest’s blue eyes were full of sympathy, and some emotion Spike could not quite put his finger on. Apparently, the good priest had already heard about the fiasco a the O’Hara farm earlier in the day. And of William O’Hara’s humiliation.

“Sit, William,” Father Giles sighed heavily as he got a glass to match the one he had been drinking from. “Whiskey?” the priest asked the eldest O’Hara boy.

“Definitely,” Spike muttered in response and took the offered alcohol from the older man’s hand.

The two men sat, staring at the flames in the fireplace and sipped their drinks. They were both totally silent. For a while that is.

“You’ve heard?” Spike finally broke the silence with a soft question. He tried not to allow his voice to be too shaky from his emotions.

“Yes,” Giles sighed his response. “I’ve heard. But not from who you might think, son.”

Spike flinched and shook his head in sorrowful anger, “Jesus Christ, I should throw her out, send her away. The bitch, she…..”

“Do not speak such blaspheme in this house, boy,” the priest ordered in a deadly voice. “Do not take our Lord’s name in vain like that and I will not have you call a good daughter of our Lord by that disgusting name.”

The older man’s eyes were narrowed into slits as he perused his parrishioner. Spike was temporarily stunned by his priest’s angry tone, but shook it off quickly.

“I am the wronged one here, Father,” Spike gasped in shock, meeting the priest’s blue eyes with his own. “Are you forgetting that?” He scowled at his priest, his dark brows were scrunched together in confusion.

“Are you?” Father Giles asked the younger man, his strong mouth almost formed a slight smirk. “The wronged one that is?”

“You knew,” Spike gasped again, now in total shock of some realized betrayal. “How long have you known about my Buffy?” His voice betrayed his own pain and he felt weak, even in front of this Holy man.

“I cannot discuss another’s confession, boy,” Father Giles responded as he sipped his drink. “Not even ‘your’ wife’s.” The old man looked so very tired, suddenly, like he held the world on his shoulders.

Spike’s emotions swung, instantly from anger of betrayal from everyone about him, to compassion for this man next to him. What the priest must have heard? Time and again from every wicked or tormented soul that passed his way? That confided in him their own personal Hell, just so they could gain entrance to Heaven, eventually.

“So, you’ll be puttin’ her out then?” Father Giles asked in a choked, angry voice. He looked at this member of his flock as if the young man had grown devil’s horns.


“I don’t want to, Father,” Spike hung his head, sadly. “I love my Buffy and I want to keep her with me. No matter how much hell we put each other through, but…..I am afraid.”

“Afraid?” the priest asked with puzzled, raised brows. He did not seem to understand, at all, Spike thought.

“Afraid,” Spike continued with a shamed voice, “that I’ll do my Buffy harm again and……”

Father Giles leapt up from his chair and yanked Spike from his own. The old man pushed the younger one up to the nearest wall of his house, succeeding in banging the back of Spike’s head, neck and shoulders against the unforgiving hard tack.

“You bloody fool!” Giles cried in a strangled voice. “What have you done to that poor girl?”

Spike found himself flung against the wall of his priest’s house, where he realized that Father Giles was still a strong man. Even for a middle aged one.

“I, well I…” Spike tried to answer the Holy man, but found it difficult. Mainly because, at the present, the Father had his left hand clutched about Spike’s throat and he was finding it rather hard to breathe, let alone speak.

“I forced myself on her, Father,” Spike rasped, nearly unable to breathe, still. “I took her against her will. I raped my own wife,” he began to weep great tears of remorse and self-shame.

“If I were twenty years younger,” the priest growled with menace, “at my full pride and strength,” he continued in his deadly tone. “I would beat you to one inch of your worthless life. You’re a bloody monster, William O’Hara, you are. An evil demon of a man.”

“Your parents were my best friends, William, or should I call you Spike now,” Father Giles snorted in disgust. “I never thought I’d say this, but I’m glad they’re dead and gone to dust. Your folks that is. Glad they didn’t live to see the disgusting, self-pitying losers their two sons have grown to be. Evil, bitter, miserable men, both you and your so called Angel.”

The priest did not let up on Spike’s shoulders, although he had released his stranglehold on his throat. Presumably to allow the O’Hara man to speak, at least.

“My Buffy, she broke my heart,” Spike choked out through fresh tears, “with her deceit and lies. She broke my heart and soul and near killed me!”

“Sweet Buffy brought you to life!” Giles roared like a dangerous lion. “You were a mere shell of man, for years, boy. Until your blond angel came into your miserable life. Don’t you think ‘I’ remember you? Your young years? When you became a man? Always a hard, bitter man, not so much like your stupid brother, but harsh and angry still.”

Spike started to respond to Father Giles, but he decided to hold his foolish tongue. It had brought nothing but trials and sorrow on everyone around him since that morning.

“Tell me, stupid lad,” the priest panted, mere inches from Spike’s shocked face. “When you were runnin’ with the Fein? What services did ‘you’ perform for them? Did you just cook their meals? Wash their shirts and clean their rooms?”

William O’Hara hung his head in shame, once more. His guilt showed on his face, of that he was sure. No, he had not just done the things that Father Giles named, that was for certain.

“No, I’m willing to bet my own soul that you did more then that, Spike O’Hara,” the priest hissed. “You’ve harmed men, have you not? Killed a few, I’d wager and all in the name of what? The Cause? The good of Ireland? Your damnable pride?”

“You think your sins are any more forgiveable then your wife’s William O’Hara,” Giles hissed through gritted teeth.

“What do you want from me Father?” Spike asked in a surprisingly subdued voice.

“I want you to act like a man!” Father Giles roared again, shaking Spike, slightly with his strong hands. “I want you to defend and protect your wife and behave like your own father would have behaved. Like a man!”

The priest finally let go of Spike and stumbled back to his chair, shaking his fair head as he went. He sat back down and began to stare into the fire before him, morosely, once again sipping his whiskey.

Spike stayed pressed up against the wall, as if some invisible power kept him there. He stood for what seemed like hours and then finally spoke in a hushed, shamed voice.

“I love Buffy,” Spike admitted quietly, “I’ll always love her. Her staying,” he hesitated then continued strongly, “it won’t be easy. She wants to leave me, especially after today and what I’ve done to her. It’ll kill us both, for a while anyway. I don’t know how she’ll forgive me, or me her, but I want to. I want her to. What do I do Father? How do I fix this?”

“I am not sure, son,” Father Giles admitted honestly, “it will be difficult and all, that’s for certain. However, I think you can fix it, someday. You love your wife, I know this. She loves you, boy, that I also know.”

With a heavy sigh, Father Giles stood up and placed his massive hands behind his back. He was deep in thought, that much was obvious to Spike, so the younger man did not say a word again until asked to.

Finally, Father Giles spoke, “I think you should stay here, in this house, for tonight William. You can sleep on the divan and clear your mind. Tomorrow, first thing, go home to your wife. However,” the priest turned to the young man, his stern blue eyes fell upon him. “Stay away from each other, for a while anyway. Let this cool down and keep a calm head.”

“She’ll leave me,” Spike whispered, painfully, “first chance she gets she’ll up and leave me. I can’t…..”

“Have Tara or better yet, Angel keep an eye on her. Her first instinct will be to flee, of course, you’ve harmed her. In many ways, boy. You’ve harmed each other, really, but, just let her have some time. Let yourself have some time. In a few days? You two can talk, work out some things.”

“Yes Father,” Spike murmered respectfully as he watched his priest go to a linen shelf and pull some extra bed clothes from it.

“Here,” Giles said as he tossed Spike the blankets, “get to sleep. You’ve had too much to drink and if you go now? You’ll just fall off your horse and break your foolish neck.”

“Father,” Spike rasped, his voice still tinged with bitterness, “I’m still angry, you know. At my Buffy,” he tried not to let the tears betray him. “I don’t know how long it will take. To forgive her, or have her forgive me?”

“Maybe a long time, maybe not,” Father Giles shrugged. “But forgive each other? You shall, son. It’s in your loving natures to.”

Spike made up his makeshift bed, but watched the old priest leave the front room and go into his own bedroom. He shook his head, a little puzzled by the priest.

‘You’re a strange one, Father,’ Spike thought to himself. ‘You speak of piousness and sin on Sunday, but tell me to forgive my own wife for her whoring past and…’

Spike’s reverie was broken when his eyes fell upon a parchment of white paper that set on an end table, by the divan where he was to sleep. There was a couple of paragraphs on the paper and he could not help but to pick it up and read the writings there.

His blue eyes shot up, wide in disbelief and shock when he read the quotes written on the paper:

John 8: verse 7:

‘He who is without sin among you? Cast the first stone…’

Alexander Pope:

‘To err is human; to forgive? Devine…’


‘Be devine, William O’Hara. You are already so very human, you and your darling wife. Now it is time to be devine.’


“He knew,” Spike whispered in awe of the priest. “He knew I’d come here, to see and talk with him.”


A/N: Forgive me, for the religious references in this chapter and the whole fiction. I am not really religious by nature, however, I have always loved these two quotes and felt the need to write them into the story.

There is still much angst for our couple, in the next couple of chapters. I will give this much of a hint: Buffy does something desperate. That’s all I can reveal for now. Thanks for reading, please review. Luv always, Spuf

NA CRACH CROI


Chapter 17: ‘Treig’ (Abandon)


Spike woke up, just as the dawn began to break and the birds started to sing their good morning songs. He bolted up from the Priest’s divan and glanced about him.

‘This is wrong,’ he muttered as he shook his head to clear it. ‘I should be at home, in bed with Buffy.’

“Buffy,” Spike whispered sadly. Every horrible detail of the day before came back to him in waves.

“Oh shit,” he exclaimed, ignoring the fact that he was in Holy man’s house, “I’ve got to get home. Buffy, she’ll be worried. Or will she?” That was debateable, for sure. Either his wife would be worried sick that her husband had spent the night away from home, or she would be relieved. Especially if she did not love him, as he feared.

Spike bolted from the divan and searched about for his shirt and boots. Once he found them, he dressed and rushed to the front door of Father Giles’ home. Before leaving the house, he crossed himself, twice and decided to leave a ‘thank you’ note to the old man.

By the time he’d ridden Iarann at a break neck speed and made it home, Spike was less ‘remorseful’ then he’d been an hour earlier. It had not helped that the parrish gardener had given him a nasty smirk when he left the Father’s house.

The smug look of the gardener had reminded Spike that probably the whole town of Balleycastle and most of Northern Ireland knew about his wife’s past by now. It turned his stomach, made his head hurt and angered him, again.

Spike unsaddled Iarann and stumbled up to Angel and Tara’s house. He pounded on the door, insistently.

“Are you a complete arse,” Angel answered the door with a grumble. “What do you want Spike?”

“I need you to keep an eye on Buffy, today. For a while, too,” Spike muttered, his head hung low. “She’s ready to bolt and I’m not sure if that’s what I want in the long run. I…..”

Angel gave his brother a once over and sighed in disgust. “What did you do, brother?” he asked, warily.

“I did something, bad, Angel,” Spike admitted with shame. “But I was angry, hurt and wronged. I did what other men might do if they’d found they’d been lied to by their wife.”

The younger O’Hara seemed to consider this for a moment, then shrugged and nodded his dark head. “I’ll keep an eye on your wife, brother,” he mumbled. “Tara needs to be there, too, she……”

“No!” Spike spat out, “they’ve talked enough, the two of them. I’ve a feeling our sister knows more then any of us. About Buffy, her past and all. If you think Tara should be around while you watch my wife, so be it. But do not leave them alone, at all. Send Tara to cook and whatever it is you can. But do not leave the two women alone.”

“I’ll take Xander with me, to do the work today. Stay with Tara at the main house. Buffy’ll probably hide out in the bedroom all day anyway. But the girl needs to eat, so have Tara fix something at your place, if she’d rather. Tara can talk Buffy into eating something, those two are thick as thieves.”

Angel nodded, an odd look in his lovely brown eyes. “I’ll watch both your wife and our sister, brother,” he assured Spike. “I’ll keep an eye on Buffy especially. But I wonder,” he paused momentarily, “are you sure you don’t want Buffy to leave? Wouldn’t it be easier for you both?”

Spike gave his brother a sour look, “no, I don’t want Buffy to leave. Even if she wants to go, I’ll make her stay, I insist she does, but she’ll have to tow the line. For a long while, before I ever trust her again.”

With that, Spike turned and strode from his brother’s small house to his own. He quietly entered the back door and passed by the bedroom. ‘Still shut in there, Princess,’ he mused. ‘You’ll have to come out, someday, but for now….’

“Oh fuck this,” Spike snarled and marched into the kitchen. He pulled something to eat out the cupboard and ate hastily. There was work to be done, a lot of work and it was probably a good thing. He could stay busy, out of the house for the day and Tara could fix the dinner meal herself. If Buffy wanted to hole up in the bedroom, so be it.

‘I warned her,’ he hissed as he washed his face in the basin. ‘No fucking lock will keep me out, of our bed and…’ he then remembered that he’d broken the lock last night. Spike shuddered in horror when he was reminded of the way he behaved the night before.

“Oh, God, Buffy,” he groaned with sorrow, “how can we fix this fucking mess?”

Buffy heard Will stomping around in the other part of the house, but she just lay still in the bed and pretended to still be asleep. Part of her wanted to go out to the other rooms, find him, try to talk to him. But, she also knew it would probably be futile.

‘The hell with him,’ she muttered to herself, ‘he couldn’t even come home last night. Not after what he did and said and what he…’ She began to weep, quietly again, trying her best not to let him know she was quite awake.

‘I hate him,’ Buffy hissed silently, trying to convince herself. Unsuccessfully, of course. The truth was, she did not hate her husband at all, try as she might. She loved him, still.

Her chance to actually face Will slipped through her fingers, she realized, when she heard the back door slam once more. William was so angry, still, that his footsteps could be heard all the way to the barn.

“Hmph,” Buffy sniffed, “wonder where he’s gone to now?”

Twenty minutes passed, maybe thirty, before Buffy heard the back door open once more. She knew full well it was not Will, come back and assumed that her husband had gone to work on the farm somewhere.

“Let him stay gone all day,” she mumbled angrily, “hope he stays gone all night again. Bastard!” Buffy felt all hope inside of her seep away, and her heart felt like it was breaking. Again.

“Buffy, lass,” came Angel’s strong voice through the bedroom door. “You okay, dear?”

“Fine,” Buffy said evenly enough. The last thing she needed was Angel O’Hara trying to get any information out of her.

“Won’t you come out, luv,” Angel purred, “William’s left for the day and I know that should please you.”

“Is Tara with you?” Buffy whispered. She would so love to talk to Tara right now, truly.

“No,” Angel responded coolly, “William’s asked that Tara stay away from you and she readily agreed. I’m sorry, darlin’ but my stubborn brother and sister are a bit put out with you right now.”

Buffy felt her heart crack in two and she began to cry, softly again.

‘He’s turned them all against me,’ she wept bitterly, ‘even Tara. And she said she understood.’ Buffy felt so sick by now that she thought she might faint, again.

“Come out, dear,” Angel cooed gently, “I’m here for you little one. I don’t hold to gossip dear sister. Come out and we’ll talk of what my wicked brother has done to you. I will listen to you, sweet, just come out where we can talk together.”

Angel’s words were so soothing that Buffy relented and stood up from the bed. She wiped the tears from her cheeks with the back of her hand. After straightening her little dress, she stumbled to the bedroom door, still weak from fitful sleep and lack of a decent meal.

When she opened the door of the bedroom, she found her husband’s younger brother leaned up against the doorframe. He had the most tender, angelic smile on his face.

“What’s he done to you lass?” Angel murmered, taking in Buffy’s disheveled appearance. Buffy followed him to the living room divan and sat down next to him. She began to tell her brother-in-law ‘most’ of what Will had said and done to her the night before.


It was now almost sunset, and Spike realized he couldn’t stay away from his own home and his wife all night, again. He brought Xander back to the O’Hara home to clean up and have a drink.

“Better this way,” Spike explained to Xander. “I hope it’s fine with your family, but I think you better stay and have supper with us, Angel, Tara and me. I doubt if Buffy’ll join us, she’s probably been holed up all day and I did instruct Angel to have Tara feed the poor thing.”

“Oh,” Xander snorted, “you mean you had Tara care for Buffy. Rather like a pet?” The taller dark-haired man’s sarcasm was not lost on Spike.

Spike flinched at the stinging tone in his best friend’s voice. He had thought Xander understood, perhaps agreed somewhat with his employer.

“She lied to me, Xander,” Spike grumbled as they rode side by side back to the house. “She lied by omission and with her spun tales.” His own tone was bitter, yes, but almost weak, for him that is.

By the time they reached the O’Hara home, the two men were barely speaking to each other. Xander reluctantly followed his employer into the house.

When they entered the living room, both of the men stopped in their tracks. Dumbfounded.

Sitting in the little rocking chair, totally alone in the room, sat Tara, rocking back and forth. Tears streamed down her pretty, but puffy face and she almost seemed to be groaning. Xander immediately bent down to check on the woman.

“Tara?” Spike gasped in shock. “What is it? Where’s my wife?”
He looked about desperately searching for Buffy, finding the bedroom door wide open and able to see the empty room inside.

“Gone,” Tara whispered sadly, “bolted the first chance she got.”

Spike felt like the walls were closing in on him and he had to shake his head to clear it. He was beginning to see red from anger and without thinking, he began to storm about the living room, looking for Angel.

“Angel!” Spike roared, desperately, at the top of lungs, “get out here, boy!”

“Don’t bother, brother,” Tara murmered harshly. “Angel’s gone too. It was Angel, took Buffy away from this nightmare.”

Spike felt like he’d been kicked in the gut. Nothing had ever made him feel like this, not even the events of yesterday. He felt as if he was falling into a deep abyss that he’d never come out of.
An overwhelming sense of pain and loss enveloped him and he found it impossible to speak.


“I suppose,” Tara began harshly, her blue-eyed glare was vicious and hateful, and aimed right at her oldest brother, Spike. “I suppose,” she continued angrily, “that since you harmed and abandoned Buffy last night? She felt justified in abandoning you this morning. Wouldn’t be the least bit surprised if the two of them were halfway to the Western shore by now.”

Spike heard a wail of pain echo through the O’Hara house. He was shocked to realize it as his own miserable howl.

“Buffy…” he roared again.


A/N: Well, did anyone see that coming? Yes, Buffy fled, but please, don’t be worried, Angel is just an escort, nothing more. At least not to Buffy, that is. However, Angel did set up that little escape, totally.

Let’s have a show of hands? Who thinks Spike is going to say ‘good riddance’ to the both of them? And…who thinks Spike is going to track them down and bring Buffy back?



I’ll try and update as soon as possible. Thanks for reading, please review, luv Spuf

NA GRACH CROI


Chapter 18: ‘Ih ta mo Anam’ (She is my Soul)


Spike sat in the divan of the front room of his parents’ house, his head bowed into his strong hands. He had finally stopped groaning, and crying the truth be known, just a few minutes before.

Xander Harris, Spike’s best friend and employee, sat on the huge chair just across from the divan and Tara still occupied the rocker. The sister had not said a word since she vehemently accused her oldest brother of driving off his wife, and the youngest O’Hara sibling.

In fact, all three of the people in the room had been silent, for what seemed like hours, but had probably only been minutes. Finally, Tara O’Hara spoke up.

“I do not know which one of you I am most angry at, William,” Tara said evenly. “You, for being a proud, foolish man who drove off the one bright thing in your life? Or our brother, Angel, for feeding on poor Buffy’s misery and convincing her to run away from you?”

Spike looked up from his hands, his blue eyes were miserable and wet from tears. “Why would Angel take Buffy away from here?” he asked in disbelief.

“Oh, he did all right,” Tara muttered, “I know this for a fact. Angel planned this as sure as I’m sitting here. Tell me, William,” she continued with a grimmace, “did you ask Angel to watch Buffy?”

“Yes,” Spike mumbled, ashamed at himself, “I did. But I wanted him to make sure she didn’t run off, harm herself or…..”

He stopped, mid-sentence, a shocked look on his face. “He was supposed to have you keep Buffy company, with him her, of course,” he continued. “Angel was supposed to keep Buffy here, but you were supposed…..”

“Our brother made it quite clear that ‘I’ was not welcome in this house, William,” Tara choked out angrily. “Sweet Angel said you couldn’t bear the sight of me and wanted me miles from Buffy. I had no idea that ‘he’ was even in this house until I saw them, Angel and Buffy, leave here on the horses. By then it was too late. However,” and here Tara’s chin began to quiver, “dear Angel did stop in our house, relayed the horrible things you said to poor Buffy. Did to her.”

Spike groaned, loudly, again and dropped his head in his hands once more. He began to weep, not even caring that his sister or best friend saw his weakness.

Xander looked confused, but kept his tongue. The big, good-hearted man just could not seem to say anything at the moment.

“God, I’m so sorry,” Spike moaned in regret. “How can I fix this? What can I do?”

It was Xander that answered Spike first. “You can go get your wife and bring her home, Spike,” he said calmly. “You can kick your brother’s arse, sorry Tara, and bring your wife back to you.”

Tara spoke suddenly, “it’s not like that,” she gasped. “Buffy and Angel, I mean. No, William, Xander, it’s not like that. Angel took Buffy away, yes, but only to help her. I believe that. At least on Buffy’s part. She’d never ‘go’ with Angel, unless it was to escape the horror that’s happened here. I cannot say what’s in our brother’s bitter heart, William,” Tara continued, her soft eyes were sincere. “But I know Buffy, maybe better then you do and she did not go with Angel to ‘be’ with him. I swear it. She wouldn’t, she couldn’t. Dear God, you foolish man. The girl loves you, needs you. I’m just terrified of what you’ve driven this girl to do, that’s all.”

Spike sat frozen in his spot, traitorous tears ran down his cheeks and he felt as if he had lost his soul. ‘I have,’ he snorted, ‘I’ve lost my Buffy. She is my soul.’

Tara spoke softly, “William,” she began carefully, “will you be going after her then? Will you bring her home?”

“Will she come home?” Spike answered his sister with another question. “What if she won’t…”

“Can you live without her, brother?” Tara asked evenly, her gaze never faltering from William’s blue eyes.

“Maybe,” he paused, then, “maybe not. But I sure as Hell don’t want to live without her.”

For the first time in hours, the three people in the O’Hara front room smiled, just a little bit. Spike stood up and nodded at Xander.

“We’ll leave in the morning, Xander,” he stated, “get a start at light and head out to Balleycastle.”

“It can’t wait,” Tara piped in, strongly. “It can’t wait til morning William,” she warned.

“They can’t get that far, Tara,” Spike countered, “and I don’t want to upset Xander’s family with this drama. We’ll leave in the daylight and catch them as soon as possible.”

“No,” Tara shook her head with conviction. “It can’t wait, William,” she repeated. “There’s more, brother and I’m afraid of what will happen if you and Xander wait to go fetch Buffy home.”

“More?” Spike mumbled, confused even more.

“Yes,” Tara murmered, averting her eyes from her brother. “Buffy is desperate, William,” she admonished him, “terribly afraid and desperate. When a woman is at her wits’ end, she’ll do foolish things and make bad decisions. Now, I’m not saying that Buffy would do these things, or ever try anything to harm herself or,” she paused briefly.

“I’m not saying that Buffy would strike out at you or herself by doing something everyone might regret later, but she’s terribly upset. That’s obvious or she would not have left with Angel. You need to go, now William, after them both. Stop them before they get to where ever it is Buffy’s is headed to. I’ve a feeling it’s the Western coast and a ship to America, but…..”

“What are you saying Tara?” Spike asked in a dangerous, calm voice. He was beginning to panic again and felt the need to start the journey to find Buffy as soon as possible.

“I’m saying,” Tara said softly, “no, I’m asking again. Do you love Buffy and do you want her back, forever, William? The past forgotten, for you both?”

“Yes,” Spike answered quickly, with conviction. He noticed that Xander grinned widely.

“Then you need to go after her, tonight, brother,” Tara nodded her head. “There’s more at stake here then you and Buffy’s marriage,” she added seriously.

“Tell me,” Spike murmered anxiously, “tell me what more is at stake, as if that’s not enough?”

“I should let Buffy tell you this,” Tara shook her head, slowly, “it’s not my place, but I’m afraid for both of you. And your child together.”

Spike felt as if the ground opened up and swallowed him. He suddenly remembered something from days before, something his beautiful Buffy had said to him, just before that fuck Ethan Rayne showed up and tried to destroy his world.

‘I have something to tell you, Will,’ Buffy had smiled softly. She’d looked so radiant and happy, so full of life. That’s because she was full of life, Buffy was. There was a baby, that’s what she’d wanted to tell him before evil men had come and ripped their world apart. Men that Spike himself had allowed to come between his wife and him.

“I’m not so sheltered, William,” Tara broke his reverie with soft words, but full of fear. “Not so sheltered that I do not know that women can ‘solve’ the worries of unwanted pregnancies. If Buffy feels that you do not want her back, she might seek out a fix for this situation. She wants the baby, William, more then anything, but you? What about you, brother? How much do you want your wife and child?”

“More than anything,” Spike rasped tearily, “I want them both, back here. With me.”

“Then we best not wait,” Xander grunted. “The more we wait, the more of a head start they get. I’m with Tara, here. Buffy would come back, Spike. You just need to make her understand that you ‘want’ her back, along with your child.”

Tara took her brother’s hand and held it, tightly. “Xander’s right, you must go tonight. I’ll ride to the Harris house, let Nancy know what’s about. But, William,” she warned, “when you find Buffy, do not let her know that you know about the babe. Let her tell you. She might think it’s the baby you just want, not both her and the child.”

“I do want them both,” Spike murmered softly. “You asked me if I could live without Buffy? Well, I can’t. I can’t, I don’t want to, and I won’t.”


A/N: Mmmm, short, short chapter to keep the interest up.
Now,did we really think that Spike would just let Buffy waltz out of his life? Nahhhhh…

As for Angel, he’ll be punished, for a while, but believe me, even after the Spuffy make up? There will be many more chapters. Thanks for reading, please review. Luv, Spuf

NA GRACH CROI


Chapter 19: ‘A Sirim’ (The Search)


Spike and Xander rode hell bent for leather to Balleycastle. Which, in itself was difficult, considering the sun was just about to set on the Irish countryside.

The first thing, Spike noticed, as they neared the Parrish house of Father Giles, is that Buffy’s mare, Suicra and Angel’s steed, Gordian, were tethered to the Priest’s hitching post. This caught both of the eldest O’Hara’s and Harris’s attention.

They pulled into Father Giles’ yard and tossed their steeds’ reins over the posts, next to the other two horses. Spike was somewhat relieved, hoping that his wife was here, in the Priest’s home. Even if she was in the company of his neer-do-well younger brother.

Spike beat on Father Giles’ door, nearly breaking the oaken wood with his strong fist. The priest answered and gave Spike O’Hara a sour look.

“So,” Father Giles rasped, perhaps just a bit tipsy from the drink, “you put the poor girl out then? Sent your idiot brother to take her away from you?”

Xander spoke up first, “no Father,” he explained, respectfully, “Spike, here. He did not send Buffy away. Rather, it was Angel, his brother that took the lass from their home. Apparently he lulled Spike’s wife into leaving with him. With words of comfort and deceit. I’m a witness, Father,” Xander nodded, firmly, “Spike, or William, as it were, wants his wife and child with him. Always.”

Father Giles gave Spike a bewildered look, then motioned the two men inside his home. He bade them to sit and began to pace about the living room.

“You say Angel set Buffy to go off with him?” Father Giles asked with a scowl. “Convinced her that you did not want her with you, William?”

“Apparently,” Spike mumbled, shame-faced and full of remorse.

“It was Angel, brought the two horses here. He said you’d be expecting them back at the farm. Tomorrow at the latest. Your brother made it clear that ‘you’ insisted that Buffy be off your home land first thing possible. I do not know where Buffy was, at the time Angel came here. I suspect she was holed up in Balleycastle?”

“She’s my wife,” Spike muttered, stubbornly enough. “She’s carrying our child and I want them both back. Like I said, yesterday.”

“Right then,” the Priest grinned at his fair-haired member of his flock, benevolently. “But the last train out of Balleycastle was hours ago. I reckon that Angel and Buffy were on it and headed to Heaven knows where. Stay here, for tonight anyway. Get a fresh start in the morning?”

Spike shook his blond head, “no Father,” he muttered, “we leave tonight. Xander and me. We’ll ride to where ever my wife has gone this day. Don’t care if we ride all night or not. Right Xander?”

The dark haired employee nodded his head, “right, Spike,” he opined.

Father Giles smiled at William O’Hara, with sincere affection. “Now,” the Priest chuckled warmly, “now you’re behaving like a man, William. I’m proud of you son.”

The Priest clapped Spike on his back and grinned at Xander. He motioned to the front door of his home with his chin.

“Off you go then,” Father Giles ordered genlty. “God go with you, William O’Hara. You will need God on your side to fix this catastrophe.”

“Yes, Father, I will,” Spike muttered under his breath. Just a tad embarrassed by his obvious inner turmoil. In front of his Priest and best friend, that is.

“A little word of advice, son,” the Priest continued with a slight smile. “When you find your wife, go to her, humbly on your knees. It’ll save time, you know? To beg your wife’s forgiveness and pray to our Lord at the same time.”

“Yes Father,” Spike mumbled with a bright red blush. “And thank you, sir.”

Xander followed Spike to the front door, but turned to nod at the Priest. “You’re a good man, Father,” Harris grinned at the Holy man. “A truly fair and good man. We’re lucky to have you as our Church emissary.”

Once Spike and Xander arrived in Balleycastle, they rode straight to the train station. Mr. Daniel Osbourne was on duty, a good friend to Xander and Spike both.

“I thought your brother brought Mrs. O’Hara to take her from here, O’Hara,” Daniel blushed bright red. It was an odd clash to his bright red hair.

“I mean, we all heard that there was a terrible row at your home. Between you and the Finn-Raynes. The whole town figured that you’d sent your wife to ‘safety’ and…..”

Spike gave Osbourne an evil scowl, “fuck this town and their talk. I want to find my wife, as soon as possible.”

“I understand, Mr. O’Hara,” Daniel sighed heavily. “And,” the slight man added with conviction, “I think you’re doing the right thing, going after Mrs. O’Hara. To bring her back that is. A man’s loving wife should be with him, always. No matter what troubles come to their doorstep. But,” Daniel pursed his lips and looked away from Spike, “that man should stand by his wife, too.”

“Yes, Daniel,” Spike hung his head in shame, “that man should stand by his wife. No matter what.”

“Coleraine,” Daniel Osbourne stated simply. “The train Angel and Mrs. O’Hara took, it was headed to Coleraine. I believe they were to switch to the train that headed to Limavady from there. I’m assuming Londonderry was the ultimate destination. It makes sense, William O’Hara. There’d be a ship to America from that port. Mrs. O’Hara ‘is’ from America. Is she not?”

Spike and Xander rode like demons from Hell all the miles to Coleraine. Miraculously, they made it before daybreak.

The two men with a mission rode into Coleraine and straight for the train station. They found an unobivious but, pleasant enough man behind the desk of the small building.

“My name is Warren Meers, sirs,” the station master shook both Spike and Xander’s hands, respectively. “Can I help you?”

“A woman, small, blond and beautiful,” Spike described Buffy, trying very hard to keep the anxiety out of his tone. “Her and a large dark-haired young man? Did they come through here, last night?”

“Oh, yes,” Meers nodded, “the woman caused quite the stir in the station.” He grinned at the two men, then suddenly frowned when he saw the pained scowls on both their faces.

“Oh dear,” Warren whispered, “I hope this was not a run-away marriage. It was very apparent, to myself and everyone here, that the young man and lady were siblings. The way they behaved with each other, never would suspect an elopement? We believed, last night, that it was a brother escorting his sister to Limavady.”

Spike flinched and Xander sighed loudly. “No, sir, don’t fret,” Xander offered the worried man. “Not a runaway marriage, just a misunderstanding.” The dark haired man glanced at his employer and grimmaced slightly.

“Hold on friend,” Xander muttered to Spike, “I know you’re getting angry and frustrated by all this, but won’t do any good if you go mithear (crazy) on us now.”

“They headed straight out, on the train? To Limavady?” Spike inquired through gritted teeth. He was trying, desperately, to keep a cool head, but he felt his control slipping away.

‘If Angel laid a hand on my Buffy,’ he thought silently, ‘I’ll tear his fucking balls off with my bare hands.’ Spike really ‘knew’ in his heart, that Buffy had not run off with Angel to ‘be with’ him that way. The poor little thing had indeed just needed an escort to the Western coast. To ‘get away’ from himself, Spike.

“They’re probably headed to Londonderry from there,” Spike mused aloud. “Buffy can catch a ship to America and Angel…..”

‘Angel,’ Spike remembered, his eyes narrowed into murderous slits.

‘What about Angel? I know he took off with Buffy for other reasons then hers, but by God, if he follows her to America! My fucking brother has no idea what I’m going to do to him when I get my hands on him. He lied to Buffy, led her to believe that I was still angry with her. Okay, I was still angry with her, kind of, anyway. But we were going to work things out, fix them, Buffy and me. If they get to Londonderry and on a ship to America, I might never get my wife back.’

Spike felt tears begin to form in the corners of his eyes. ‘I’m a fucking fool,’ he sighed softly. ‘I trusted Angel, never should have. He’s hated my guts since that day I pulled him from a mine shaft and saved his life. Should have left the fool down there to die.’

Xander spoke up and broke Spike’s angry reverie. “We best head on, Spike,” the big man said quietly. “There’s a chance we can catch up to them in Limavady, before the next train to Derry town.”

William O’Hara swallowed back his fear and tears, “you’re right, Xander,” he shook his fair head and then glanced at the station master.

“Thanks friend,” Spike nodded at Warren Meers.

“I hope you find the lady, sirs,” Meers said weakly, “I know this situation is not my business, but I can see it’s very important to you.”

Spike and Xander got to Limavady by sunset that evening. Not only were they very weary by this time, but their horses were near exhaustion. Undaunted, the two men headed straight for the train station. If anything, it was the train masters seemed to know most everything that went on these towns and villages.

“Did a small, lovely blond young lady and a dark haired man come through here, friend?” Spike didn’t hesitate, he just blurted out the question to this train master.

“They did,” the old man behind the desk answered the worried looking young man. He gave both Spike and Xander a wary look and adjusted his glasses.

“Got in just early this morning,” the man drummed his right index finger to his forehead. “Noticed them, right off of course, because of the lovely lady. But then, when the brother and sister got into a row, together, really took notice then. Well, assumed they were brother and sister. When they began to argue, though, looked as if it was because the lady was rejecting the big man.”

Spike flinched visibly, “a row!” he gasped at the old man. “What kind of row?” Now O’Hara was really concerned. What had his idiot brother done to Buffy?

“Did they go straight to Londonderry, then?” Spike asked desperately, “when did they go?” He was growing more impatient by the second, but was happy that this nosy little man had overheard the argument.

“She did,” the old man stated quickly, “the young man took off out of this building. Never saw ‘him’ again. The lady bought a ticket to Londonderry and caught the first morning train there.”

“Oh Jesus,” Spike grumbled as his looked at Xander, fearfully. “Buffy’s gone off to Londonderry alone. Can’t say if I’m happier about that or not. I’m afraid for her, Xander,” he rasped.

“I know Spike,” Xander clapped his friend on his back, gently. “We’ll head to Derry town, immediately. Catch up to her there.


“Train there leaves in about two hours, friends,” the old man interjected. “Can’t say for sure, but your poor horses out there look like hell. Much like you two do. Why not board the poor beasts, get yourself a supper and then take the train to Londonderry. Wouldn’t you be better off? All of you?”

The old man made sense, truly, and Spike nodded to him. “You’re right, friend,” he sighed heavily. “We’re done out and I’m afraid our horses’ll die before we get there. We’ll take two tickets to Londonderry.”

Xander smiled, for the first time in hours and Spike felt a little more hopeful.

A thought hit Spike, suddenly, and he asked the old man where the nearest pub was. The train master laughed, heartily, “oh, the nearest is about 50 yards from here, Mister,” he chuckled. “But there’s five within the city mile.”

After thanking the old man for his help and advice, Spike and Xander headed off to the ‘first’ pub, nearest the train station.

“You’re thinkin’ that Angel’s in one of the pub’s, ain’t you Spike?” Xander asked knowing.

“Yup,” Spike replied evenly, his jaw somewhat clenched, however.

“If we find him? What then, Spike?” Xander asked next, his voice tinged with worry.

“I’m going to rip my brother’s throat out and shove it up his arse, Xander,” Spike growled angrily.

“I was afraid of that,” Xander muttered as he kept in step with Spike.


A/N: Kind of a short chapter, huh? Next chapter? Spike confronts Angel and well…you’ll have to read it (tee hee).

Will Spike and Xander catch up to Buffy in Londonderry before it’s too late? Before she gets on that ship to America? After all, America is a ‘big, big place’ and all.

Thanks for reading, please review. Luv, Spuf

NA GRACH CROI



Chapter 20: ‘Taisgeal’ (Finding)


A/N: Since I’ve left Buffy out of the mix for a couple of chapters, I thought I’d start this one with a little Buffy POV.


Buffy Summers O’Hara wondered, almost aimlessly, around the small, but neat hotel room. She had rented a place, the minute she got to Londonderry. The ‘in the know’ train station master made her realize the cold hard facts. The next ship out for America was not sailing until two days from now.

“Figures,” Buffy sighed in frustration as she stared out the little window that overlooked Londonderry below. She was hungry, still, even after a rather large breakfast at a nearby café.

“I suppose it’s the baby,” Buffy smiled weakly as she spoke out loud. “Poor little thing,” she mumbled as she began to cry softly. She placed her own tiny hand over her tummy and closed her weary eyes.

Buffy had been foolish, she realized, to think that a ship would just be there, in Londonderry Port, waiting to whisk her home to America. But she had been so desperate, so anxious to put as much distance between herself and William. That’s why she had finally given in to Angel and allowed him to take her away from the O’Hara farm.

She had no doubt that everyone for miles about Balleycastle had been made aware of the fiasco of the last few days. William, her own husband, was probably thanking God that she’d left him and the farm he loved so damn much. At least, that is how Angel made it sound to be.

Then, there was Tara and Willow, her new friends, and Cordelia Chase. “Poor Cordelia,” Buffy sighed through her hot tears, “she probably thinks I’m a really big whore now. Probably thinks I seduced Angel into taking me away. Oh God,” she groaned.

“This ‘is’ a nightmare. I hope that William and everyone realizes, know in their hearts, that I only went with Angel so he could escort me safely. I had no idea that Angel ‘thought’ there was something more. Fool, that I am. Some ‘fancy lady’ I have ever been? Did not even recognize that my husband’s brother expected favours for helping me.”

Buffy felt sick, again, to her stomach. Whether it was from her pregnancy, or the horrors of the last few days? She could not be sure. She did know this, however. Once she had boarded that ship to America, she would never look back. Try to never think again of Ireland, or William O’Hara. The man she had married and loved beyond reason.


Spike and Xander finally found Liam ‘Angel’ O’Hara in the third pub they searched out. The dark-haired, tall O’Hara youngest was hard to miss. He sat at the bar, his good hand held a glass of some whiskey or such. By the looks of things, Angel had spent most of day and evening in this place.

“Stay here,” Spike nodded at Xander, his employee, by the pub door. “I’ll see to my brother, by myself.

Xander gave Spike a wary look, but accepted his employer’s orders.

“Angel,” Spike hissed from behind his younger brother. It took everything he had not to attack the younger man.

“Hello, Spike,” Angel greeted quietly, never turning to look at his older sibling.

“Why?” Spike asked with a dangerous growl.

“Because you don’t deserve her, brother,” Angel answered simply, still not turning to face Spike. “But then again, apparently, neither do I.”

Spike grabbed Angel by the back of his shirt and spun him about to face him. The other patrons in the bar finally became silent, perfectly aware of the brawl that was about to begin.

“You talked my wife into leaving me, Angel,” Spike hissed through gritted teeth. His blue eyes were mere slits of anger and rage.

“Talked her into it?” Angel asked evenly, “or did you drive her away? Ask yourself that one, brother.”

“Both,” Spike finally answered, his head hung down in shame. “It was both,” he repeated sadly. “I want her back, Angel,” the fair haired man rasped. “I want my Buffy back.”

“Well, hopefully, your wife, as you now so openly call her, is on a boat to America. Away from you. And all of us,” Angel spat back at Spike, smugly.

“You love her?” Spike asked, almost afraid of his brother’s answer.

“No,” Angel mumbled, “but I wanted her. Wanted what ‘you’ had. You always win, Spike, always. It’s you that gets the prize and always comes out ahead. I just wanted to win, just once, boyo.”

Spike glared at his brother in disbelief.

“You hate me, that much then?” he asked Angel, shocked to the core.

“Yes,” Angel answered honestly. “I hate you for saving my life, but not all of me, physically. Hate you for being the fair-haired son and hero about our homeland. Hate you for ever bringing your golden Goddess to our home and reminding me of what I can never have. Hate you for showing me what a fucking failure I truly am.”

“You’re the reason that you are a failure, Angel,” Spike sighed sadly. “You could have made a good life for yourself. Found happiness with someone who worshipped you and wanted a life with you. Instead, you fed on your self-pity until it devoured you completely.”

“Do ‘you’ love Buffy, William?” Angel asked his elder. “Do you worship your wife and would you go through Hell for her?”

“I do,” Spike answered with conviction. “And I’d march though Hell for Buffy.”


Angel shrugged, almost indifferently and pulled away from Spike. He sat back down on the bar stool and finished his drink, quickly.

“You’re a pathetic fool, brother,” Spike hissed at Angel. “A fucking pathetic loser. Not because life made you that way, but because you did. Yourself that is.”

“Buffy wouldn’t let me touch her, Spike. Just for the record, I mean. She looked disgusted when I just mentioned it.” Angel choked out his confession in a subdued tone.

“She loves you, you fucking bastard,” Angel continued, bitterly. “Your wife worships the ground you walk on and loves you more then life. She’s pregnant, did you know that brother?”

Spike flinched, but said nothing in response.

“She’s going to give the world another little perfect O’Hara. But,” the dark man chuckled, “it’ll be on the other side of the world. There’s the rub, isn’t it?”

“I tried to talk her out of the baby,” Angel continued, his voice was harsh and cold. “Tried to convince her to find this Maam of hers, this Anya Jenkins to tell Buffy how to get rid of the babe. But she’d have no part of it. Wanted the poor little bastard. Wants a part of ‘you’ and all.”

Angel downed the next drink, rapidly and signalled for another.

Spike felt like he was going to be sick. He looked at the bar keep and then tossed a few pounds on the bar, in front of Angel.

“Keep them coming,” Spike ordered evenly. “Until my brother is so drunk he can’t sit on the bar stool without help.”

The bartender nodded, solemly and refilled Angel’s glass. “I’ll see to him,” the old man behind the bar promised Spike.

“Liam,” Spike began, his voice low and gutteral. He used his younger brother’s Christian, given name.

“I never want to lay eyes on you again. Do you understand?” Spike struggled to keep from pummeling Angel, completely into dust.

“No problem,” Angel responded, his back still turned on his older brother.

When Spike met up with Xander at the pub door, the dark haired man asked, “thought you were going to rip out Angel’s throat and shove it up his arse?”

“Don’t need to,” Spike replied, matter-of-factly, “my brother’s a lost man. To beat him, or kill him? It’d be just finishing off the job. Let him stew and suffer in his own bitterness.”

The two men hurried back to the Limavady train station and their destination to Londonderry.

“She’s got to still be there,” Spike stated to Xander as they boarded the train. “I’ve got to find her and keep her with me. I love her so much.”

It was nearly dawn when Spike and Xander made it to Londonderry. Even by train, the trip was long and arduous.

Xander had slept, most of the way, while Spike found it difficult, nearly impossible to rest. All’s Spike could think about was his wife, Buffy and their child together.

‘Dear God,’ Spike had prayed all the way to Londonderry, ‘please let her forgive me. Please, dear Lord, let my wife give me another chance.’

Once they had arrived in the bustling port town, Spike and Xander immediately began to question the train station master about Buffy.
Yes, he had seen the lovely lady exit the train, yesterday morning. No, there was no ship to America, sailing, not until the day after this one.

Spike looked up to Heaven and thanked God Allmighty for listening to his pleas.

“I pointed the lady into the direction of Fitzgerald’s Hotel, sirs,” the kind station master directed the two men. “It is the best place in town and suited to a lady such as stepped off of this train yesterday.”

“Thanks friend,” Spike muttered as he nearly ran to the Hotel the station master pointed to.

“I’ll get a room, for myself, then, Spike,” Xander offered with a sly grin as he watched his employer and best friend hurry into Fitzgerald’s. Spike barely acknowledged Xander as he made his way to the hotel desk clerk and asked after Buffy.

“Yes, Mr. O’Hara,” the clerk nodded, amicably, “your wife is in one of the better rooms. Although she made no mention of your being here to meet her. I’m so glad though,” the kind young man grinned. “A lady such as Mrs. O’Hara should not be alone in this town. It’s a good place, but not safe, not for true ladies, like your wife.”

“Thank you,” Spike muttered as he took the extra key to Buffy’s room. “See that you give my friend here,” he pointed at Xander, “a good room to stay in.” With that, Spike tossed another ten pounds in front of the desk clerk and high-tailed it up to room #3. Buffy’s room.

Spike took a deep breath, and swallowed hard. He knew he had to get this right, all of this. No matter what, Spike wanted Buffy back and if he had to beg on bended knee? Then, so be it.

“Will!” Buffy gasped when she opened the Hotel room door and found her husband, standing there. She damn near fainted, straight-away at the sight of her disheveled man in the door way.

Before she could say anything else, or slam the door in Spike’s face, he strode into the room and closed the door behind him.

Dropping to his knees, Spike threw his arms about Buffy’s still tiny waist and whimpered.

“Forgive me, please baby,” he pleaded with his wife. “I’m a fool, a stupid blind fool who doesn’t deserve you. Please, Princess,” he continued, “please forgive me and come home with me. I love you so much, Buffy. So much. I’ll die without you, I swear it.”

Buffy stood, frozen in shock that her Will had found her. More then that? She was shocked that her husband had even looked for her.

“Forgive you?” she whispered in disbelief. “Forgive ‘you’ Will? What about me? I deceived you and lied to you, by omission. Can you forgive ‘me’ ever?”

“A thousand million times, my love,” Spike said, his voice husky with emotion.

“If you can forgive me, then I can forgive you. I’ve more to be forgiven for. I know that now, so please, Buffy,” Spike began to weep, “please forgive me. I love you so very much, sweet. Say that you still love me. Please.”

“I love you, Will,” Buffy murmered gently stroking her husband’s curly head. “So much, my darling,” she added as she wrapped her own arms about him.

“I’ve something to tell you Will,” she whispered, finally joining him, in kneeling on the floor.

“We are having a baby, Will,” Buffy murmered softly, burying her face into her husband’s strong chest. “A little O’Hara,” she finished, her own voice choked with emotion.

“Well,” Spike whispered into his love’s little warm ear, “isn’t that just fine then?” He began to weep, great hot tears of joy at finding his wife.


A/N: Hokey, hokey, hokey…….But so wonderfully Irish, don’t you think!!!

Please read and review. There are more chapters coming, promise. Some more excitement and ‘upheaval’ for the ‘family O’Hara’ and the people in their lives. Lots of Spuffy make up sex in the next chapter!

Thank you. Luv, Spuf

NA GRACH CROI


Chapter 21: ‘Daonnan a Nios Sorruidh’ (Always and Forever)


A/N: Buffy and Spike enjoy ‘make-up time’ together! The old Irish/Gaelic terms and words are translated ‘loosely’ into English in the parenthesis. Thanks for reading, please review. Luv, Spuf



“I think it’s a boy,” Buffy whispered, cradling her husband’s fair head in her arms. “Our baby, I think it’s a little boy, truly.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Spike whispered in response, “just want the babe to be healthy. And look like it’s Mum.” He grinned at her, so happy to be in her slim arms once more.

“Oh, Will,” Buffy began to weep, softly, her warm tears spilled down her flushed cheeks. “You came here for me. Came to fetch me home and…..”

“Of course I did, baby,” Spike nuzzled her cheek with his. “I love you and I cannot live without my ‘anamchara’ now can I?” He ran his fingers, gently down her damp, tender cheek.

“Soulmate,” Buffy murmered softly, her tears flowed freely down her face. “I know that word. Anamchara means soulmate. And we are, you and me, Will,” she blushed warmly, “we are soulmates, aren’t we?”

“Yes,” he replied lovingly, “we are soulmates and always will be, my Buffy. My Princess, my Goddess.”

Spike finally rose from his knees and gently picked his tiny wife up in his arms. He carried her over to the bed and lay her down, tenderly in the soft blankets. Without waiting, Spike stripped off his clothes and crawled up on the bed, next to his wife.

“I’ve missed you,” he purred, “though it’s only been days, I’ve missed you like it’s been years, my sweet.”

“Me too,” Buffy whispered, softly, her green eyes half closed as her husband ran his slim, long fingers down her bare arms.

“Can I make love to you, Buffy?” Spike asked, softly, afraid that it might be too soon, after the horrors of the days before.

“Please, Will,” Buffy sighed, longingly, “please do make love to me. Now,” she near ordered with a saucy little giggle.

Spike quickly divested Buffy of her dress and underthings, unable to go slowly at this time. He found it difficult, since their marriage, to be without the comfort and warmth of his wife’s arms. Not for a day, much less a night.

“You are beautiful,” he murmered, reverently to Buffy. Her perfect little body never ceased to amaze Spike, and now? With their child growing inside of her, it made him realize just how holy and precious Buffy truly was.

“Graim thu,” Spike whispered into Buffy’s warm ear, after he lay next to her, again.

“Graim thu,” she repeated back to him.

(Graim thu is ‘I love you’ in old Irish)

“Gra mo chroi,” Spike began to chant as he kissed his wife’s forehead, her cheek, then her plump lips, lovingly. He ran his lips and tongue down her sleek neck, to her chest and breasts.

(Gra mo chroi is ‘love of my heart’ in Irish)

He tenderly kissed Buffy’s still flat tummy, the home of their child. “My wife, my child,” he whispered in awe, “my life. It’s here, with you and our future together, Buffy.”

“I cannot wait any longer to be in you, Princess,” he murmered as he positioned himself in between Buffy’s sweet, wonderful thighs.

“Me either,” she rasped, her voice heavy with want for Will. “Please, my darling,” she purred in desire, “I want you.”

Spike could not wait any longer, he thrust inside his willing wife and began to move in the age old dance of lovers.

“I love you,” the couple cried in unison to each other as they moved to the music of their dance together.

“I don’t want to hurt you or the baby,” Spike moaned as he thrust into Buffy, being careful not to overwhelm her.

“You won’t,” she sighed, wantonly, “honest Will, it’s all right. The baby will be fine, promise.” She began to buck up under his hips, meeting his every thrust with her own.

“Never leave me,” he gasped, huskily as he neared his powerful release. His blue eyes were ablaze with emotion.

“Never,” Buffy cried, her own release was near. She tried not to allow her own tears of joy seep from her green eyes as she felt the oncoming power of her orgasm.

Spike pulled his busy mouth from hers and gazed, soulfully, into Buffy’s green eyes. He felt tears begin to slip from his own blue eyes as he tried to speak out the next words he felt that his wife had to hear. It was difficult, considering he was about to cum with her.

“Le gra go deo,” he roared as he came, bringing Buffy over with him. “Le gra go deo, my Buffy,” he repeated, gasping for air as he rode out his orgasm with his beautiful wife.

(Le gra go deo is ‘with love forever’ in the old tongue)

They lay, sated and happier then ever before, together in the cozy bed of the hotel room. Their naked bodies entwined together in complete contentment.

The evening had turned to night, and the night neared dawn. Buffy and Spike lay talking, planning and loving each other until they were too exhausted to do so anymore.

Before they fell asleep, Spike and Buffy talked of many things. Of their love for each other, their future plans and such. Mainly, they just carressed each other, tenderly, and discussed names for their coming child.

“If it’s a girl,” Spike offered, “I think we should name it Elizabeth.” Buffy almost cringed at this, but stopped herself and shook her head, softly.

“Can we name ‘her’ a new name, Will?” she asked, quietly. “Something different and maybe a name that will mean a fresh start for our child?”

“We could,” he smiled, gently, at her. “But what name do you want for our daughter, Princess?”

“I like,” Buffy began with a rosy blush to her face, “I really would like to consider ‘Dawn’ for a little girl. To represent a new beginning in her life, and ours?”

“Dawn it is then,” Spike, chuckled. “If it’s a girl, like I’m hopin’ for, one that looks like you? Then Dawn’s a perfect name for the little lass.”

“Good!” Buffy snuggled deeper into her husband’s embrace. “Dawn it is then, for a girl child.”

“What about a boy?” Spike scowled momentarily. “If it’s a lad, what then?”

“Well,” Buffy began, carefully, “I was thinking William is a fine name. A fine name, for the son of a fine man?”

Spike frowned again, “not so sure about that one, sweet,” he mumbled. “I don’t know how fine I am and I want our son to have a fresh start also.”

“Hmmm,” Buffy sighed, “if not William? Then, what would you think of Patrick?”

“For my Da?” Spike gasped in delighted surprise. “I’d love it Buffy,” he clasped her warm body to him, even closer.

“Can we name him William as a middle?” she asked shyly, her face was bright red now.

“Of course we can,” Spike laughed happily, “my Da’s middle name was William. Our boy would be Patrick William O’Hara II. It’s a fine name, Buffy,” he kissed the end of her cute nose, tenderly.

“It’s settled, then,” Buffy smiled warmly, “Dawn if it’s a girl; Patrick William if it’s a boy.” That settled, the couple began to drowse off to sleep.

Suddenly, Buffy sat up in the bed and peered down at William, a worried expression on her petite face.

“Will,” she whispered, her voice shaky with emotion, “I’m afraid. When we go home, to the farm? Not everyone, not all of your friends are going to welcome ‘me’ back with open arms. What about our child? What will…..”

“Buffy,” Spike sighed, “I don’t give a fuck what…”

“William Patrick O’Hara!” Buffy gasped in disappointment. “Such a way to speak,” she cried as she pointed at her naked tummy. “In front of our poor little innocent babe!”

“All right, Princess,” Spike chuckled as he pulled his wife back down to his body. “I’ll try and not curse like a soldier, but I mean this.” He gave Buffy a stern but loving look.

“I don’t care what the good folks of Balleycastle have to say about ‘us’ or our family. I want you, you want me. That’s the end of it, then. If they want to live with some shiny, gold plated poles up their self-righteous arses? Then so be it. But Buffy,”
he ran his fingers down her cheek, pulling her chin up so her eyes could meet his.

“If you want to go home, I mean all of us,” he pointed to her, himself and their child in her stomach, “then so be it. I just ask that you come home with me, to the farm. Let me settle some things and then I swear, we’ll be off for America as soon…..”

“No,” Buffy shook her golden head, stubbornly. “I’ll not be driven from our land, yours and mine, Will. Or our child’s homeland. I want this child, at least our first child, born right here in Ireland. We owe our babe that, at least.”

“God, girl,” Spike gasped, tiny tears of pride for his wife began to fall from his eyes. “You’re something special, that’s for sure. I love you, my wife. Always and forever.”


A/N: Sigh, I hope that brought some ‘smiling Irish eyes’ to the board! Anyway, the couple is back together, officially, that is. However, there are evil doings afoot in Balleycastle and they go by the name of Finn-Rayne. Although the Rayne plan to tear about our Spuffy couple failed? They (the Raynes) might just resort to other violent means to gain the control of the O’Hara farm.

I’m going to give you readers a little hint here. The good folk of Balleycastle are not so judgemental on Spike or Buffy. In fact, they are anything but judgemental. Buffy will not have a problem with ‘most’ of the good folk of town or her neighbors. Promise. There is trouble a brewin’ about the O’Hara farm and it’s not because of Buffy, that much I’ll tell you.

Look for all of our characters to show up in the next few chapters. There will be trouble for our Spuffy couple, but not between them. Thanks for reading, please review. Luv, Spuf

NA GRACH CROI


Chapter 22: ‘Fardach go Brach’ (Home Forever)


A/N: In this chapter, we will have to assume that all of Balleycastle, and the surrounding area have heard of the events at the O’Hara farm from days earlier. Spike and Buffy are back in Balleycastle at the beginning of this chapter and will have to face the neighbors, so to speak. What will the townspeople do and how will they react?


The train pulled into Balleycastle and the three young people got off of the passenger car. Spike motioned to the cargo car and Xander headed over to see about their horses.

Buffy, Spike and Xander had returned from Londonderry, together on the first train they could. After stopping in Limavady, briefly, to retrieve their boarded horses, the trio made it home to Balleycastle in one day by train. While in Limavady, Spike and Xander briefly looked about for Angel, but to no avail. Apparently he’d left the village immediately after his confrontation with his older brother.

‘Just as well,’ Spike had reasoned, ‘I told him I never want to see him again. So be it.’

While Xander saw to the horses, Will and Buffy headed to the Chase Mercantile. Buffy being very nervous about being back in Balleycastle at all, was even more vexed by having to face Cordelia or her mother. Mrs. O’Hara had no idea what the town had heard, thought or really knew about the whole mess of the last few days. A part of her, almost did not care. But, the other part, her insecure, remorseful side was terrified how the townspeople, especially her new friends, may react to her now.

Before they could enter the Mercantile, the O’Hara’s ran smack into Mr. And Mrs. Thomas Wilkens, the Mayor and his wife. Buffy immediately felt uneasy and lowered her eyes, quickly, afraid of the reaction by this esteemed couple.

“Good morning William, Mrs. O’Hara,” the Mayor tipped his hat, amicably at the handsome couple. “Good morning Mr. O’Hara, Mrs. O’Hara,” Darla Wilkens smiled warmly at Buffy. “It’s a fine day here in Balleycastle, is it not?”

“Yes,” Buffy whispered, her voice cracked with tiny tears of relief, “it is truly a very fine day, Mrs. Wilkens.” Buffy glanced into Darla Wilkens’ lovely eyes and favored her with a small, grateful smile. She could only hope that this fine woman of the community could understand how much her friendliness meant to Buffy.

‘After everything else,’ Buffy thought, a littled awed, ‘they’re going to welcome me back with open arms.’ It reminded Buffy of just how well respected her husband truly was in his homeland.

‘I only hope that Cordy will accept me, back I mean. After all, she has no idea about why I left with Angel. I cannot tell her of what happened between Will and I before I ran away. That,’ she determined, ‘is best left to lie in the past and never be thought of again. Much like my own past,’ she realized finally.

The Wilkens went on and Buffy felt her husband’s arm tighten about her waist. She glanced up at him and smiled, taking in his own affectionate grin down at her. His beautiful blue eyes were so filled with love for her. For her, Buffy Summers O’Hara, a former wanderer on Earth. He had given her so much. In a spanse of just a few months; Will had given Buffy love, a new life, respectability, a happy future and now? A child together.

‘It’s going to be okay,’ Buffy thought, overwhelmed with relief and hope, ‘everything is going to be fine.’ She stood up on the tip toes of her little boots and kissed Will’s fine mouth, quickly. Will held her tightly to him, returning her kiss with his heat and fire.

“Thank you,” Buffy murmered, tenderly, when they broke from each other’s mouths. “Thank you for coming for me, loving me, everything. I love you so much Will, so very much.”

“I know,” Spike smiled warmly at his little wife. “As I love you and thank you. And yes, Princess,” he whispered, “everything will be fine now.” Buffy’s William always could read her mind.

“Buffy!” came Willow Cohan’s bright, cheery voice. Buffy looked up to see the red-headed young woman coming towards them.

“Oh, Buffy,” Willow gasped when she reached the O’Hara’s, “I’m so glad you’re back! Does Tara know yet?” Willow had clasped Buffy to her, so tightly, that the little blond could barely breathe.

“Uhm, no,” Buffy choked out, “I don’t think so.” She tried to loose Willow’s strong hold on her. For breathing necessity if nothing else.

“She’ll be so pleased,” Willow had let loose of Buffy and grinned at both the O’Haras now. “She loves you both so much, Buffy, William, Tara does. The girl’s been worried sick about both of you. Thank God you’ve come to your senses, Buffy O’Hara, come home, where you belong.”

Buffy could not help herself, she burst out into tears, burying her head into her husband’s strong, shirt covered chest.
“There, there, my darling girl,” Will began to stroke his wife’s little back, comfortingly. “I told you, from day one,” he continued in his deep, soothing voice, “that not only do I love you, passionately.” He lifted her chin with his finger, gently, “that everyone would love you Buffy. That this place, here, with me, is your home. You belong here, always.”

Buffy smiled through her tears and sniffed a bit before she nodded at Will. It was too hard to say anything, at the moment, so she just snuggled her body back up close to his and closed her eyes. She hoped this would help her get herself and her emotions back under control, before she went into the Mercantile to face Cordelia and her mother.

“William,” Buffy heard Willow say softly, “may I speak with Buffy, privately. Just a little girl talk, you know?”

Spike let loose of his wife and nodded at her to go with Willow, just a ways down the walk. He motioned off into the store and told the women that he’d be in there while they talked.

“Buffy,” Willow stammered, after her and Buffy were alone. “I want you to understand something, very important.” The red haired woman looked very serious at the moment, and Buffy felt fearful once again. She said nothing, just nodded at Willow.

“What William said to you, it’s true. This is your home now. You belong here with your husband and all,” Willow’s tone was hushed, gentle and soothing. “Anyone who really matters in this town, your neighbors who know you and William, care for and respect both of you? We want you here, all of us. And there are many of us Buffy, most all of us, in fact. Do not ever think that you need to be afraid, or embarrassed to come here, meet us and be a part of this town. Everyone here, who is decent and knows you two, wants both of you as neighbors and friends. Do you understand that?”

“Yes,” Buffy murmered, still a little choked up from her recent flood of tears. “But, Willow,” Buffy sighed sadly, “what about Cordelia? I am so afraid she misunderstood my motives, for leaving with Angel and all. I hate it that she might hate me and….”

“No,” Willow shook her head, adamantly. “The Chase family, including Cordy? They are included in ‘those townspeople’ that I mentioned. “We all care about you Buffy, especially Cordelia Chase. She is not so blind, Cordy that is, to not know that Angel O’Hara is a bitter, angry man. Cordelia knows that if you left with Angel, it was for purely practical reasons and there was no, well…” Willow blushed bright red, an odd sight with her red hair and all.

Buffy couldn’t help but giggle a little, “sorry,” she whispered, but Willow smiled. “Anyway,” Willow continued quietly, “Cordelia knows enough, enough to realize that Angel was merely an escort for you. To help you from an unpleasant situation, brought on, I dare say, by misunderstanding. She also is fully aware of what evil men the Finn-Raynes are, believe me. Riley has been pursuing Cordelia for years, just as Ethan has Tara.”

When Willow mentioned Ethan Rayne and Tara, Buffy noted the jealous, angry glint in the red head’s gray eyes. She felt the need to ‘assure’ the young woman, much as Willow had her.

“Tara loves you, Willow,” Buffy said softly, “know that. It is obvious to me and should be to you.”

“You know?” Willow asked in surprise, another blush creeped up from her neck to her face. “About Tara and me?”

“Let’s just say I guessed and Tara didn’t deny it,” Buffy murmered as she patted Willow’s slim hand with hers. “I am sorry, Willow,” Buffy continued sadly, “sorry that Tara and you cannot be more open with your feelings for each other. Perhaps someday, somewhere?”

“Perhaps,” Willow whispered, a sad little smile on her lips. “I hope so.”

“Now,” Willow began, in a much lighter tone, “let’s go into the Mercantile and have a cuppa with Cordelia and her mummy. “Then, we’ll look at the catalogues and pick out just all kinds of fancy baby clothes? Shan’t we though! Now don’t be cross with Tara,” Willow giggled happily, “she had to tell me that she was going to be an auntie. Tara’s so excited for both you and William! Let’s pretend no one knows, though, let William get to go about bragging and boasting to everyone. Himself!”

Buffy took a deep, cleansing breath and allowed her friend to lead her into the Chase Mercantile. She certainly felt a hundred times less uneasy then when she stepped off the morning train at the Balleycastle station.

When Buffy and Willow stepped into the Mercantile, the first sight they saw was William O’Hara and Mr. Chase, casually talking, near the register. Buffy smiled to herself, watching her husband’s animated hands and smile. ‘He’s so happy,’ she thought to herself, ‘so alive and happy. I hope it’s me that makes him so.’

“Willow, Buffy!” Cordelia cried in excitement as she hurried out from the back of the store. She immediately ran up to hug both of the women, tightly to her.

“Mum,” Cordy called back to the elder Chase woman, “Willow and Buffy are here! Is the tea near ready?” The dark haired girl smiled warmly at Buffy. However, Buffy did notice that the dark eyed girl’s glance strayed, longingly, out into the front of the Mercantile.

‘She’s looking for Angel,’ Buffy thought, sadly. ‘Looking for a man that’s gone to who knows where.’

“Congratulations, Buffy dear,” Cordy gushed happily, seemingly brushing aside her own disappointment. “William has just crowed to us all about your child that is coming! Hope it’s all right. Mama and me, we’ve already got the catalogues put out. The ones with the fancy baby clothing and such from London!”

“It’s fine,” Buffy rasped, barely able to say a coherant word. That this fine family, these good people of Balleycaslte would take her in and forgive her. For anything and everything from her past?

Cordelia’s mother came out of the back room, a tray of tea and cups in her hands. “Buffy,” she exclaimed, “there’s this lovely Christening dress, for the babe. You must order it dear, now!”

Buffy took Cordelia by the hand and led her to a deserted corner of the store. She held the dark woman’s hand up to her cheek and sighed, heavily. “I’m sorry, Cordelia,” she whispered. “But I want you to know something. Angel took me away, because he thought it best for me and the child. It had nothing to do with anything between him and I.” She felt bad ‘lying’ to Cordelia, but Buffy felt it best not to tell everything. The girl was suffering, terribly, and Buffy did not want to add to that. Why reveal that Angel did indeed try and seduce Buffy? It would only make matters worse.

“I know,” Cordy whispered, her head hung down in sorrow. “He’s not coming back, Angel, I mean. Is he?”

“I do not think so,” Buffy answered, honestly. “William has made it clear he wants no part of his brother. I am sorry Cordelia.”

“It’s all right,” Cordy nodded and led Buffy back to the others. “Angel is a bitter and unhappy man. Why he blames William? I do not know, but he is what he is. I have always known Angel’s faults, just loved him despite them.”

“Look!” Willow cried, pointing at a picture in the newest ordering catalogue. “Isn’t that just the dearest thing?” She was staring at a white, lacy Christening dress and grinning like a loon.

Later, after all the hoopla and wonderful blessings that the Chase family and Willow had put upon William, Buffy and their unborn child? The O’Haras and Xander Harris made it back to the farm by sundown. Xander headed off to his own home, to see his family, while Buffy and William made their way into their own home.

Tara was there, waiting, for the couple when they arrived into the family house. She stood, took Buffy into her strong arms and hugged her tightly. “Love you,” she whispered sincerely, to Buffy, stroking her honey blond hair. “Love you and William both.”

After supper, Tara insisted on going back to the little extra house on the farm and leaving the couple to themselves in the main home. Spike was a little nervous. Afraid that his Buffy might not want to stay in their regular bedroom. Not after that horrible night, just days before when he…..

“It is all right, darling,” Buffy murmered as she took her husband’s strong hands in hers. “We can go to bed, now, in our room. It will be fine, promise.”

“We could stay in one of the other rooms, Princess,” he offered, anxiously. “If you want, we could make up a bed and…..”

Buffy shook her blond head, stubbornly, “no,” she whispered, firmly. “I want to make love in ‘our’ bed, in ‘our’ room and go to sleep together there.”

“You are an amazing woman Buffy,” Spike rasped, his voice husky with emotion. “I love you so much, so very much. I’m so glad you’re here, with me now and forever.”

“Forever,” Buffy murmered as she smiled up into her love’s handsome face.


A/N: Oh no, darlins’ it’s not over yet! By the way, I wanted to write a note here (a long one!) and relay a little tale to you:

I know that the whole ‘everyone in town accepts Buffy and her past thing’ seems a little far-fetched. Well, maybe, then again, maybe not.

I based this part of the fic on something my beloved Grammy told me, years ago. She lived outside of Cheyenne, Wyoming (sound familiar Stake Your Claim readers?) and she knew of a woman there, in the city. This woman, who was a known ex-prostitute, who had left the life and settled down with a fine man, was never looked upon as anything but a citizen of Cheyenne.

One night, after the woman’s marriage, she was assaulted by an ‘ex-customer’ whom she killed in self defense. I’m only relaying this sad story for one reason, to let readers know that there are wonderful, tolerant people in the world that do put their pasts and others’ behind them. Anyway, the good people of Cheyenne defended this woman to the end and my own Grandmother shared a hospital room with her, as she had her last child there.

So, I’m thinking (scary thought!) that if the people of Cheyenne, Wyoming can accept someone like this woman into the fold, in the 1920’s? Then the good people of Balleycastle can do the same for Buffy O’Hara!

Thanks for reading, please review. I love you all. Spuf

NA GRACH CROI


Chapter 23: ‘Agus Seol Sinn Ni; Sinn Tha O’Haras’
(Of Course We Will; We Are O’Haras)


A/N: Thank you to everyone reading this fiction. Thank you to the lovely reviewers, I am sorry I cannot respond personally to each one of you.



Hours turned to days, days to weeks, weeks to months. Life on the O’Hara farm went on, day after day, week after week. It was now early autumn in Ireland and Buffy O’Hara was getting heavy with her first child.

Iarann, William’s horse, had sired a foal with Suicra, Buffy’s mare and the little one was a beauty. Will was always telling Buffy that this was a good sign, a good omen for their own child. The little philly was pure white in color, a rarity in a newborn horse, anywhere. Especially when the sire horse was nearly all dark in color. This meant, of course, that the young pony was special in many ways, a special hybrid and would need a special name.

Will had insisted that Buffy pick out a name for the foal. After pouring over old Irish texts, Buffy picked out the name of ‘Suil’ which meant ‘hope’ in English translation.

So many new and wonderful things had flourished on the farm. Every day, Buffy found a new wonder to see and ponder, breathe in and cherish. She knew that it was her upcoming motherhood that helped make her more sensitive and aware of the wonders and beauty about her. But it was her Will, she realized, that made her life worth living, really. For once in her life, Buffy felt completely safe and content, and so very, very full of hope.

Spike watched his wife scurry about the kitchen, her little body now fairly heavy with their coming child. His Buffy would constantly prattle on about ‘our Patrick this, or our Patrick that’ but Spike himself? He actually wanted their first child to be a girl, a daughter. A honey blond haired beauty, with green eyes like her mother. Tiny, petite even, with a melodic voice like Buffy’s, a daughter to cherish and protect. That’s what Spike wanted, a daughter. For a first child anyway.

The couple, Spike and Buffy, had been to Balleycastle only twice since the unfortunate events of months before. Each time they had traveled into the city, the O’Hara’s had been received with open arms from the townspeople.

“We need to leave, for Ballecastle, early, Princess,” Spike told his wife as she set the dinner table. “Xander and me, we’ve business to attend at the bank in the city. I’m hoping to make it there by 9:00, to have breakfast at the McClay Diner. Would you like that, baby?”

Buffy nodded, happily. Will, herself, Xander and his wife, Nancy, along with their two boys and Tara, were to go to Balleycastle tomorrow. It was her advancing pregnancy, nothing more, that kept Buffy from going to Balleycastle more often then she had.

The good people of the city had re-embraced her after the unhappy events from the Spring and Buffy felt no shyness in seeing any of them. But she held with the tradition that a woman should ‘cover’ her advanced pregnancy and not be too brazen in showing her condition.

However, tomorrow, Will did have business in town, and Buffy had some precious packages to retrieve from the Chase Mercantile. All of the pretty baby clothes were in at the store and Buffy could not wait to visit with Cordelia and her mother again. The Chase women had come to the O’Hara farm, about twice a month now, to visit with Buffy and Tara. They brought Willow with them and Buffy was glad for her sister-in-law for that.


Buffy, in her heart, knew that Cordelia Chase kept her hope that Angel may yet return to the O’Hara farm, someday that is. However, so far? No one had any news of Angel O’Hara’s whereabouts or anything of him. It broke Cordy’s heart, Buffy was well aware, but she kept her tongue about it.

The little group left for Balleycastle, early the next day, all of them in high spirits. Spike kept a watchful, loving eye on his wife, making sure she was all right as they made the long journey to town.

After their breakfast, at the diner, Spike and Xander headed to the bank, while the ladies made their way to the Mercantile. Buffy was so excited to retrieve the baby clothes she had ordered and the fine English lace Christening shawl for the coming baby. She paid no heed to a pair of deep brown eyes that watched her, Tara and Nancy Harris head into the Chase store.

“Buffy!” Cordy cried with glee, “all of your orders are here! I can’t wait to unwrap them and see what the babe will have.”

Buffy still winced when she saw Cordelia Chase, though she did try and hide her uneasiness. It near broke Buffy’s heart to think that this fine young woman could never have the man she loved with her. Always, it reminded Buffy how lucky she was to have her Will by her side, no matter what obstacles they had faced together, or might face in the future.

As the women made over the bundles of treasures, Buffy gazed at Cordy. “There’s still been no news,” Buffy whispered to the woman beside her. “We’ve no idea where Angel’s gone to, Cordelia,” she added, sadly. “I wish…”

“It’s all right, Buffy,” Cordelia sighed, meeting the blond woman’s gaze with her honest dark eyes. “I’ve known for years that Angel was a ‘lost’ cause. It is my problem if I still harbor feelings for him.”

“Cordy,” Buffy began with a sigh, “I…”

The front door bell of the Mercantile tinkled a new arrival. Buffy had hoped it was Will and Xander, but she was sadly mistaken when she looked up to see Parker Abrams enter the store.

The six women suddenly became very quiet as they watched Mr. Abrams approach them. Buffy stepped around Tara and headed Parker off, quickly.

“What do you want, sir,” Buffy asked, evenly, accutely aware of her advanced pregnancy, suddenly.

“I would like to…apologize, Elizabeth,” Parker Abrams stammered out, almost shyly. “For ever coming to this town, your new home. For bringing unhappiness to you and yours.”

The dark haired man seemed earnest enough, but Buffy found it hard to accept his apologies. She shrugged and shook her blond head, “not necessary,” she mumbled, never meeting his gaze.

“It is Lizzy, I mean, Miss Elizabeth. Mrs. O’Hara, I mean,” Parker continued, hesitantly. “It was a stupid, vain and selfish thing I did, months ago. To interrupt your new life, with your new family. In my defense,” the man sighed sadly, “I can only offer the fact that I was smitten with ‘you’ and under the influence of the Finn-Raynes. Which,” Parker paused with a frown, “which I feel I must break from, now.”

“I’ve some information, Elizabeth,” Parker continued, seriously, “that may be of some use to your fine husband and yourself.”

Buffy blushed when she realized that Parker Abrams was perusing her pregnant body. Even though the man’s eyes held no lust, she felt uneasy at his gaze.

“You, your husband and child,” Parker began again, his dark brows scrunched together. “I fear that you all may be in danger, Elizabeth.”

Buffy flinched, her green eyes flew wide open and she reared back from this man, fearful now. Tara hurried up to join her and gave Parker a heated glare, but the man did not back down at all.

“It’s Riley, his father, Ethan and the whole bunch of them,” Parker murmered, his voice tense. “I’ve heard some things, Elizabeth, Miss O’Hara,” he nodded at Tara.

“What things?” Buffy asked sternly, almost afraid to hear the words from Parker’s lips.

“Old Ethan,” he began carefully, “he still wants the O’Hara farm, Elizabeth. I’m afraid that he’ll go to any lengths to secure it for himself and his sons. That’s why he dragged me out to your place, months ago and had me,” Parker’s voice trailed off and he looked away from the two women, shame in his expression.

“Anyway,” Parker finally began again, “the old coot wants your place for himself and his family. I am afraid he might resort to violence, force as it were, to secure the farm for them.”

Tara gasped and Buffy felt like she was going to faint. Somehow, she managed to collect herself and reply, “no man, including Ethan Rayne will ever ‘take’ my Will’s farm from him, or us, his family.” She reached over and took Tara’s strong hand in her tiny one, giving it a firm squeeze to show her conviction.

“Good,” Parker finally grinned at the two women, happily. “And, now, Elizabeth, or should I say Mrs. O’Hara? I’ll take your leave. My train back to Belfast, then on to England leaves in just a few minutes. I hope your life is blessed, your child healthy and all of your future children? May they be as fine as you and your good husband. Good day, goodbye and God Bless you, Elizabeth O’Hara.”

With that, Parker Abrams spun about and strode out of the Mercantile, whistling a jaunty tune as he left.

“Well,” Buffy exhaled slowly, “this has certainly been an informative morning, eh, Tara?”

She glanced at her sister-in-law, who looked as if she’d seen death itself stop by for tea. “Buffy,” Tara hissed, her voice shaky and frightened, “do you think we’ll be all right?”

“Of course we will, dear,” Buffy patted Tara’s hand with comfort. “Do you honestly think that my husband, your brother, is going to let trash like the Finn-Raynes harm us? Take our land?”

“Never,” Tara smiled weakly at her sister-in-law.

“Never,” Buffy repeated back to the taller, blond woman, firmly.

“Still and all,” the older Mrs. Chase piped in, “you need to tell William and Xander about this, my dears.” She was truly the voice of reason in the situation.

“She’s right,” Willow joined in, her gray eyes wide with trepidation, “it’s best to tell William and Xander what this Abrams said. He meant well, Buffy,” the red head advised her friend. “Perhaps to make amends, for before I mean?”

Buffy nodded. They were right, all of them. No matter how tough, wonderful and proud her Will was? This ‘warning’ from Parker Abrams was just that, a warning of possible trouble for the O’Hara family. The man was apparently trying to make amends
“Yes,” Buffy murmered softly, “we’ll tell William. He’s due to be here, any moment. I hate to ruin his morning, especially with the fact that Abrams came to speak to me, but…”

At first, when Spike heard that this twit, Parker Abrams had approached his Buffy, he was hell bent to track the ponce down. Rip his fucking head off for even looking at Spike’s wife.

However, when Buffy and Tara, along with Willow, Cordelia and Mrs. Chase, explained that the man had truly come to warn them? Spike caved in and listened to the words the women had to say.

“I think we should go talk to Father Giles,” Buffy advised her husband and sister-in-law as they left the Chase Mercantile. “If anyone can difuse this situation, it’s the Parrish Priest, right?”

For hundreds of years, the local Priests and Holy Men of the community had ‘tended to’ their flocks. Hence, one local faction or clan, who had a beef with another? They might duke it out, beat the holy bejeesus out of each other on a Friday, but…by Sunday Mass? The warring clans would be sitting, side-by-side in the Church, listening to the Father speaking about the Mother Mary and her sweet Babe. Talking all forgiveness and peace. It had always been the way and always would be.

The real problem was, however? The Finn-Raynes were not a local clan and never would be. They were new starts, outsiders really. Their ways were different then the families that had resided in the area for over hundreds of years. Raynes did not really fit in, nor did they seem to want to. Ethan’s family was new, arrogant and proudly vain. Even if the Raynes had come to the Balleycastle area, married into a fine Irish family like the Finns.

Just the fact that Rayne himself harbored hatred and contempt for the locals, due to his questionable ‘royal’ blood. It made it hard for the local townsfolk to swallow the whole blueblood attitude of Ethan and his family. Especially since the locals had lost interest and fear in dowered landowners years before. Things were different now, and would forever more be.

“Hmmm,” Spike hissed as he helped his wife and sister onto the wagon. Xander helped Nancy and the boys up into the huge transport and Spike took the reins.

“Will?” Buffy whispered, from her spot in the front seat, next to her man. “Shall we go see the good Father?”

“Yes,” Spike answered simply, “we shall.”


A/N: I wonder if Spike is going to really listen to Father Giles’ words of wisdom, or if he’s going to go all ‘shirty’ and clannish on us?!? For that matter, what about Giles? Ripper seems to be just a hair away from the Priest’s usual personality, so who’s to say that old Rupes won’t go rough and tumble along with Spike?

There is not too many chapters left of this story, promise. In the next one, not only will things come to a boiling point at the O’Hara farm (don’t worry, it’s not going to be because of arguing between Spike/Buffy), but some old ‘familiar’ faces just may show up to…..???

Please read and review. Thank you so much, luv Spuf

NA GRACH CROI


Chapter 24: ‘Glog Mas an Rotach’ (Calm Before the Storm)


A/N: Just a little ‘nice’ interlude for Spike and Buffy before the sh** hits the fan!


Spike watched his wife as she snuggled up close to him, in their bed. Her once little tummy was swollen with their child and he just could not help himself, Spike was more aroused then ever by the beautiful sight.

“I am huge,” Buffy sighed in frustration. “I look like a brood mare, ready to pop out twin foals!”

Spike began to chuckle, illiciting a pout from his lovely wife. “It’s not funny, Will,” she began to cry, softly, “I’m not even pretty any more. You do not find me pretty anymore, do you Will?”

“I find you intoxicating, Princess,” Spike responded, honestly. “Even more so, with our babe in your tummy.”

He was leaning on his right arm and elbow, gazing down at his gorgeous wife. Spike wished that Buffy could realize how beautiful she really was, especially now, pregnant with their first child.

‘The first of many,’ he thought, happily. He wanted a dozen children, but if that could not be? Then a half a dozen would do in a clinch.

“Poet’s words,” Buffy snorted at the intoxicating remark. “Mere words to get me to ‘pleasure’ you with my hand while you…”

Spike cut off her sentence with a deep kiss of reassurance. It had been ‘difficult’ for the couple. After Buffy’s sixth month of pregnancy, she and Spike had practiced the ‘safe’ intimacy that was well known and accepted in the Irish countryside.

He would use his mouth, lips and tongue to pleasure his wife, while she would use her hands, and her mouth to give him release. Still, it sometimes did not seem enough for either of them.

Buffy wanted to feel her husband inside of her, as Spike wanted to feel himself there also.

“I miss you,” Spike sighed as he pulled Buffy’s still little, but tough body up to him. “I miss the heat inside of you, wife,” he added, longingly.

He ran his long, left index finger down the front of his wife’s body, between her bare breasts and to her hips. With a wicked grin, he leaned in, again and kissed Buffy, his mouth hungry for the feel of her luscious lips.

“As do I, you,” Buffy sighed deeply, kissing her husband back, just as deeply.

That day, after the drama at the Chase Mercantile, the group from the O’Hara farm had made their way to speak to Father Giles. The older priest had made it clear that he would ‘talk’ with the Finn-Raynes and difuse any animosity between their clan and the O’Haras.

“I’ll speak with Ethan and his idiot sons, William,” Father Giles had assured them all. “But,” the Holy man scowled, “he is a hard, wicked man. More bitter then your young brother, Angel. I do not know what my council might bring about. Go on home now, rest assured I will do my best, William. With the help of God and his Son, maybe I can talk some sense into Ethan Rayne and his foolish offspring.”

“Mrs. Chase,” Buffy whispered softly, breaking both her and Will’s thoughts of the days events. “She’s to be my midwife, when the baby comes. You know that, right Will?”

“Yes,” Spike smiled at Buffy, placing a chaste kiss on his wife’s plump lips.

“Well,” Buffy blushed bright red, “as a midwife, and a regular wife,” here Mrs. O’Hara giggled wildly.

“I love it when you laugh, Princess,” Spike took hold of his wife’s cheek and tenderly kissed her again.

“Listen Will, please,” Buffy pleaded gently. “Mrs. Chase, she said that there are ‘ways’ for a husband and wife to be together, Will. Gentle, safe ways to have, you know…real intimacy?”

Spike burst out into laughter at his ‘chaste’ wife’s stammerings. Sometimes he could not help it, he had to chuckle at life’s irony. Buffy, who he now knew had ‘a past’ was one of the most prim and proper ladies to walk the face of the earth. It pleased him, delighted him and for some reason? His little Princess would just blush and get all embarrassed by the most innocent things. It just made Spike feel like a fucking God, but he had no idea just why it did.

“Ooooh,” Buffy hissed as she turned her bare back to him and lay on her side, “I cannot talk to you, William O’Hara. You are such a, a, well, you are a man, that’s for sure!”

Buffy burst out into tears and began to sob loudly, causing Spike to feel like a fucking moron.

“Baby,” he cooed softly, taking his little prize in his arms and pulling her to his body. “It’s all right, darlin’ truly,” he continued. “I did not mean to be so crass and mean. I want to hear how we can be ‘truly intimate’ together. Please, sweet, tell me.” Spike kissed Buffy’s neck, then ran his tongue down, to her silky shoulder.

“We,” Buffy, whispered, almost dazed by her husband’s wonderful mouth, “we could make love, like we used to if…”

Buffy hesitated, afraid that Will might just laugh at her, again, when she suggested what Mrs. Chase had advised.

“It’s safe, Buffy, dear,” Mrs. Chase had repeated, three times that day. “To lie on your side, while your man, you know, Buffy, slides between your thighs. From the back side? And very carefully, Buffy, the elder Chase woman nodded. Your husband must be ‘cautious’ while making love this way.”

Buffy blushed again, surprisingly for an ex-prostitute, really. But then again, she had never been pregnant before, thank God, that is. Although, if both she and William had their way? Buffy O’Hara would be pregnant many times after this.

“So?” Buffy whispered, her back still turned to Will. “What do you think, Will? Would you like to try and…”

Before Buffy could utter another word, Spike had lifted her left, slim leg with his and positioned himself between her thighs. He wrapped his arms about her waist and chest, paying careful attention to her even breasts, which were plumper and larger, due to he baby coming. He began to rub his erection up and down on her sweet, ready cunny.

“I think,” Spike whispered, huskily, “that I’ll be liking this ‘safe’ way to make love to my wife.” With that, he gingerly slipped his shaft into Buffy’s waiting wet opening and began to gently thrust in and out of her.

“I love you, my sweet Buffy,” he murmered into her warm little left ear as he stroked her breasts and tummy.

“I love you Will,” Buffy whispered in response, her body molded to his warm and strong one.


A/N: Short, short, short (unlike Spike’s di** that is and…) okay, that was uncalled for, I know. But did a lot of you readers know that James was in a play, on the Chicago stage, that called for him to be totally naked? Yes, totally naked, kids and I have yet to have anyone come forward with a photo, a sypnosis or a testament to JM’s ‘assests’! So, until I can have someone, somewhere, produce a word and testament, or some proof? Well…

Oh, and in the last few chapters, a lot of familiar faces will be showing up at the O’Hara farm. For the final stand, that is.

Okay, thanks for reading, please review. I feel that folks are losing interest in this fic and believe me, there is a lot more excitement in store for our heros! Luv, Spuf

NA GRACH CROI


Chapter 25: ‘Rabhadh!’ (Warning)



Buffy listened from the living room and watched her husband, William O’Hara, strode about the front porch of their home. He was talking with Father Giles, or rather, he was grumbling at the ‘gentle’ priest.

“My Buffy,” Will hissed at the priest, “she’s due to have our first child, soon. I cannot just send her off and leave her with strangers, Father.”

The blond woman cringed, worried at what her Will was saying, truthfully. It appeared that the Finn-Raynes were going to make good on their promise to ‘capture’ the O’Hara farm.

‘Parker,’ Buffy thought to herself, ruefully, ‘he was not lying then. Old Ethan Rayne and his foolish sons are going to try and take this farm from ‘my’ family.’

“They’re coming at you, like you’re a criminal boyo,” Father Giles admitted, his blue eyes nervously darting towards the front door of the house. “You’ve said it yourself, you did throw in with the Fenn. Or, the Irish Republic Army, as they’re now going by. I do not fault you son,” Giles shook his head quickly, “just want to warn you. Old Rayne? He’ll have your place by any means necessary and if it is necessary? He’ll take it by force, or by crookery, lad.”

“I will fight them,” Spike growled, also glancing at his front door, anxiously. “With every fiber in my body, I’ll make sure that those bastards do not have O’Hara land.”

“Of course you will,” Father Giles nodded, “I’d expect nothing less from you. However,” he scrunched his brows together, “about your wife? Your coming child and your sister? What about them, William?”

Spike sighed in frustrated defeat. “I guess I will have to send them to safety,” he flopped upon one of the chairs on the front porch. “To you, to the safety of your parrish house, then, Father,” he asked, hopefully.

“No son,” the priest shook his head and sat next to the young man. “I intend on ‘helping’ you and young Harris protect this land from those bastards, the Raynes.”

A slight smirk began on Spike’s mouth and he thumped the imposing priest on his back, gently. “You are a good man, Father Giles,” Spike whispered, reverently. “A good friend and neighbor.”

“Speaking of neighbors,” Giles continued, thoughtfully, “there are some, in Balleycastle, that wish to be here when the Raynes arrive. To take you, that is. I can count at least a dozen men, for certain, that will stand with you and Harris. And your brother,” Father Giles mumbled lowly.

“My brother?” Spike gasped and sat up from the chair, his blue eyes wide with shock.

“Aye,” the priest nodded his fair head, “young Angel. I’ve been in contact with him. For months now. I had to send word to him, William,” the holy man continued. “He needed to know that your family’s place was in danger from the Raynes.”

Spike sighed and leaned back into the chair, his thoughts were solely on his wife and baby now. It was true, the oldest O’Hara was worried, scared even, by this turn of events. The Finn-Raynes were powerful foes, always had been. They could, and would use violence to take the farm for themselves. After all, the fools had tried every other method in the book to gain the land that had belonged to O’Haras for over a hundred years. When those terms did not work? Then violence would be the final resort.

“They mean to come after me, then?” Spike asked the priest again. “To use my known connections with Sinn Fenn to ‘take’ me? To where Father? An English prison?”

Father Giles shrugged, his expression was a worried one. The priest had loved William’s parents, as he did William himself and his lovely wife. Even Angel and Tara O’Hara? He was their priest, their religious leader and he loved them like the children he would never have.

“I’m guessing Will,” Father Giles sighed heavily. “I know you. Know your determination and pride, boy. You won’t go without a fight and all of us that love you? We won’t let them take you. Never.”

“Angel?” Spike asked quietly, almost afraid of the priest’s response.

“He’s been down in Newcastle, for some time now. Since the awful events of Spring. He wrote me first and I replied. It was my duty, William,” Giles nodded solemnly, “to one of my flock. Your brother has done some soul searching, all these months. I wrote him, the last time. Told him of the upcoming trouble here and he wants to help you, William. He is an O’Hara, your own flesh and blood. Time to put this anger behind you both and stand together.”

“Yes,” Spike murmered softly, “it is time to put it behind us. If my wife can forgive my brother for his deceit? Then so can I. I want Angel here, Father,” the blond man’s voice was shaky with emotion. “My brother belongs here, with his family who loves him. Whether we square off with the Finn-Raynes or not? I want Angel home.”

“Now, there’s William O’Hara, the man,” Father Giles grinned happily at his favorite ‘son’. “I’m sure Buffy will agree. She’s a fine woman, Will, a Godsend to you. But, then, you know that, don’t you?”

“Aye, I do,” Spike smiled warmly at thought of his little wife.

“Good,” Buffy said firmly as she came out of the front door. “Because I am in agreement. Angel needs to come home, to his family and be here to help you Will. As for me? I intend on staying put, right here on our farm and right beside my husband.”

“Buffy, Princess,” Will began quickly, “you cannot stay here. Not until this trouble with the Raynes is over. I won’t…”

“Won’t what?” Buffy asked stubbornly, plopping her swollen body down onto her husband’s strong lap. “Won’t let me stay here? With you? You’ve no choice. I’m staying. And I wager that if you ask your sister, Tara? She’ll have the same answer for you.”

Father Giles scowled, briefly, then grinned at the blond woman. “As I said William,” the priest chuckled, “a fine woman. Your little Buffy.”

“You’ll go to Balleycastle, Buffy O’Hara,” Spike growled lowly in his chest. “You and Tara both. You’ll be off in the morning to town and stay with the Chases or the Cohans. I won’t have you or my child put in danger by a bunch of trash like the Finn-Raynes.”

“Oh, you won’t will you?” Buffy squealed loudly, causing both Will and the Father to jump slightly. “I’ll decide whether I stay or go, Mr. O’Hara. This farm, this land,” Buffy swung her slim arm and hand out to sweep the landscape. “It’s O’Hara land. Yours, your parents, your brother and sister’s and now, mine and our child’s land. No worthless band of trash is going to just walk in here and take it from any of us. Right Father?”

“Too right, Buffy O’Hara,” Father Giles smiled affectionately at the tiny, blond dynamo.

Xander Harris took that moment to join the trio on the front porch of the house. He looked ‘troubled’ to say the least.

“Morning Father, Buffy,” Xander nodded respectfully at the priest and Mrs. O’Hara. “Spike,” the dark haired man looked at his employer, somberly, “I’ve just come from the Fitzgerald’s place. I’ve some bad news.”

“Go on,” Spike sat up in the chair and clutched Buffy tighter to his body. He did not like the sound of his friend’s voice, but then again, there had been no good news that morning anyway. Except maybe that Angel would be coming home.

“Old Sean Fitzgerald, the old man, not the son. He was in Coleraine, a few days this past week. Came home, early this morning with some disturbing news.”

“Say it, Xander,” Spike ordered through gritted teeth, although he had an inkling just what ‘it’ was about.

Xander glanced at Buffy and the priest, respectively, then nodded his big head, slowly.

“Old Sean, he was in a pub with some friends, in Coleraine early last evening. That low life Ethan Finn-Rayne? He showed up with his oldest and youngest boys, Riley and Mikel. Along with that worthless hand of his, Graham. They began talking big, Spike,” Xander said lowly. “About how they were going to come here, to your farm and take you to the Sheriff in Coleraine. How you have so much to answer for, you know,” Xander hesitated, “when you were with the Sinn Fenn in England?”

“I suppose they know that our own Sheriff in Balleycastle would never go for this. That’s why the old fool was in Coleraine, talking big and making threats. Old Sean Fitzgerald, he says no one in the place paid much heed to it. But thought you’d better hear of it. Be prepared and all.”

Buffy felt William flinch and she now began to get very frightened indeed. She wrapped her arms tighter, about her husband and gazed at him, anxiously.

“Don’t worry, baby,” Will whispered and nuzzled her cheek with his lips. “They cannot take me anywhere. It’s old man Rayne, just being a arse, as usual. The bastard knows he has no cause to take me, or have me arrested. He’s talking big, sweet. Nothing more.”

“The old fool is setting out a warning, William,” Father Giles interjected. “He’s placing a challenge, knowing that old Sean would surely tell you first thing he could. Probably wants you to either run, or at least send Buffy and Tara off somewhere to haven. At least the idiot has some dignity left in him.”

Everyone stared at the priest, who shrugged amicably. “Never could stand that fool, Ethan,” he explained with a sad smile. “Reminds me of someone, from my youth.”

Father Giles glanced at Buffy and a knowing look passed between them. She realized that the good priest was remembering the Englishman that had gotten his beloved little sister pregnant. It was this man, Father Giles had confided to Buffy, that he had killed with his bare hands.

“By the end of the week,” Xander broke into the quiet again, “Ethan said they’d be here, Spike. Maybe even on the Sabbath, the old devil himself would not do such a thing on the Lord’s day. But Ethan Finn-Rayne and his idiot sons would. That’s for certain.”

Spike gently removed his wife from his lap, but held her all the same. He stood up and took Buffy’s hand in his, then looked out over ‘his’ land. His father’s land and grandfather’s land. An O’Hara had owned this whole vast area for close to two hundred years. Spike was not going to just let it go, just like that. He could not.

“Buffy,” Spike began cautiously, his voice was low, soft and tender. “I cannot have you stay here, with me now. Not you or Tara. You must go to Balleycastle, to the Chase’s or Cohan’s. Both of you.”

“Chase,” Father Giles interrupted quickly, “he’s standing with ‘us’ in this William.”

“I will not leave you, Will,” Buffy shook her head stubbornly. She threw her arms about her husband’s strong body and hugged him tightly to her.

“You will,” Spike countered sadly. “I don’t want you to go Buffy. I want you here, with me, always. But you, our child, you won’t be safe here now. I love you too much to put you in this danger, sweet, you will go, to the Cohans place. Tara and you will go, no later then the day after next. It has to be Princess.” He felt tiny, hot tears begin to slip from his eyes as he held his Buffy close to him.

Buffy began to cry, softly, embarrassed by her fresh tears. It was breaking Will’s heart to send her away, even if it was to haven. She felt her own heart breaking, with pain, with fear.

“They cannot take you, Will,” she whispered desperately into her husbands chest. Which was now wet with her tears.

“They won’t,” Spike replied, his tone was determined and deadly.


A/N: Actually, this fiction is getting a bit too long and I apologize for that. I meant to have it wrapped up by this chapter and well…

There will definitely be a few more chapters and yes, Angel is going to be back, very soon. And, yes, Cordelia and Angel will meet again.

Thank you for reading and reviewing. Luv, Spuf

NA GRACH CROI


Chapter 26: ‘Turradh!’ (Surprise!)


“I do not want to go,” Buffy mumbled, sullenly, as she packed a little suitcase. “I want to stay, with my Will,” she added stubbornly. Her sister-in-law, Tara O’Hara, watched Buffy as the little blond pouted and sulked.

“My place is with my husband,” Buffy repeated for the tenth time, in a hushed voice. “Why should ‘I’ leave our home? I…”

“Your place is in a safe haven,” Tara interrupted Buffy, firmly. “That’s what your husband, my brother wishes, sister,” she finished with a scowl. “He wants both of us to be safe. Angel will home soon, he’ll stand with William. Please don’t be cross or stubborn sweet Buffy. Do as Will says and be safe. Your child’s health depends on it, also.”

“I guess,” Buffy grumbled under her breath. She picked up her shawl, the one that Tara had knitted for her and tossed it into the suitcase, then shut the luggage tight.

“I still think,” Buffy began, matter-of-factly, “that we have time to at least stay the night.” Buffy hated the whine in her own tone, but she couldn’t help it. She truly wanted to stay on the farm, with Will, her husband.

“Bastards,” Buffy hissed angrily as she thought of the Finn-Raynes. “They make me so mad,” the little blond kicked at the bed frame in frustration.

It was the day after William and Buffy had been warned by Xander that Ethan Finn-Rayne was planning to take over the farm. The old pirate’s last resort was to have William O’Hara taken and delivered to the law, in Coleraine. Some trumped up charges by the old devil and his family.

“Sinn Fenn, indeed,” Buffy snorted as she flung the suitcase onto the floor. “I hate the Finn-Raynes,” she sighed, little tears began to slip from her green eyes.

“I know, dear,” Tara cooed as she picked up Buffy’s luggage and placed it back on the bed. “However,” the O’Hara sister continued quietly, “it’s still best for you to be in Balleycastle for a while. Just until this mess is over. I must be near you, sister,” Tara advised wisely, “to take care of you and my neice or nephew.”

Buffy smiled softly, “I think it’s a boy,” she murmered happily, forgetting, for a moment their troubles. “We’re going to name him Patrick, for your father.”

Tara smiled gleefully, “I’ll like that, Buffy,” she replied warmly. “Father was such a kind, good man and…”

Suddenly, Buffy’s face contorted in pain and she cried out, sharply. Her huge green eyes were wide with shock and fright.

“Tara!” Buffy yelped as she grabbed her tummy in anguish. “It hurts!” she groaned.

Buffy glanced, anxiously, at Tara, who was staring at the floor beneath her sister-in-law’s feet. When Buffy gazed down below her, to the floor, she saw what Tara did. A widening pool of water was flowing between Buffy’s feet and away from her.

“Oh Buffy,” Tara whispered in fear as she realized just what this meant. Buffy’s water bag had broken, signalling the impending birth of the baby. It was more then two fortnights too early for the babe to be born, but now?

“Tara,” Buffy gasped, weakly, “you better call Will in, please? Tell him that we have a surprise,” she whispered, her face pale starkly white, with fear.

When Spike heard his sister’s frantic tone, he didn’t wait to hear all of what she had to say. He rushed from the barn, where he’d been with Xander, into the house.

Finding his wife, lying on their bed, her little face pinched in pain, Spike felt like crying. Instead, he crawled onto the bed and took his Buffy in his arms, clutching at her, desperately.

“Well at least I will not be going anywhere, Will,” Buffy smiled weakly at her husband.

“Oh, baby,” William groaned as he nuzzled her neck with his mouth. “I’m so very sorry,” he whispered, his own fear was showing.

‘He knows this isn’t quite right,’ Buffy realized, ‘he’s trying to be brave for me.’

“Xander’s already on his way to Balleycaste, Princess,” Spike said, his voice a harsh whisper. He had begun to pepper his Buffy’s pale face with little, soft kisses. “He’s gone to fetch Mrs. Chase and Cordelia here. They won’t be long, promise, can you hold on, til then, sweet?”

Buffy gazed deeply into her husband’s gorgeous blue eyes and saw the fear and worry there. She knew she had to be strong, and good and very brave or Will would lose it completely.

“I can wait,” she replied, simply with a brave little smile. “I’ll be fine, Will, honest. Women have been having babies for thousands of years and will for a thousands of more years. I’ll be fine, darling,” she finished strongly.

Spike stayed, laying beside his wife, holding her tightly to him. Tara had come into the room and sat next to the bed, watching Buffy intently. His sister appeared to be timing the time between each of Buffy’s strong pains. He could feel his Buffy tremble, then cringe with each passing tremor in her body and it cut him to the core.

‘I can’t help her,’ Spike thought sadly, ‘in the end, she’d got to do this, mostly by herself.’ This realization saddened him so much, that he had to fight the traitorous tears that threatened to fall from his blue eyes.

Well close to two hours had passed, and Buffy had a few strong labor pains. By this time, Spike was terrified, but he tried very hard not to show it.

Tara kept looking out the bedroom window, apparently off down the road to Balleycastle. Finally, when the air in the room had grown so tense and thick, Tara cried out softly and ran from the room. “They’re here!” Tara squealed as she headed out of the door to meet the group that was approaching.

Buffy sighed in relief, but not near as loudly as her Will did. She looked into his blue, worried eyes and saw some peace there, momentarily.

Mrs. Chase hurried into the bedroom, with Cordelia right behind her. Tara followed up behind them, a brilliant smile on her lovely face.

“William,” Tara said softly, “come out now. Cordelia and Mrs. Chase will take it from here.”

“No,” Spike replied with a frown. “My wife needs me,” he finished and held Buffy to him.

“There’s some others here, William,” Tara countered, her voice sounded odd. “Some that you need to greet, brother,” she added somberly.

“Go, Will,” Buffy urged, “please go with Tara. I’ll be all right, don’t want you to see me like this. Please.”

“Buffy, I…” Will shot his wife a pleading look, but relented and shrugged in defeat. “All right Princess,” he sighed sadly, “I’ll go out to the front. But I’m right close by, if you need me, sweet,” he leaned down to kiss her mouth with his. “I love you,” he whispered as he followed Tara out of the room.

“I love you,” Buffy cried out to him, weakly.

“It will be fine, William,” Mrs. Chase nodded, gently pushing him out of the bedroom. “Best go and greet the others, leave this to us women.”

“I should have stayed with her,” Spike mumbled, miserably as he followed Tara into the front living room. He had his head hung low, in some kind of shame, so he did not notice, right off, the dozen or so men who stood in the large room.

“She’ll be fine, lad,” Father Giles murmered to Spike as he placed a strong arm about his shoulders. “We must make sure of it and our being here is part of the plan. I’ve some bad news, William.”

“Father?” Spike asked, a little confused when he saw who it was. “Aye, son,” the priest said softly. “I’ve come to be with you, stand with you boy. The Finn-Raynes, they’re headed here, now. Old Sean Fitzgerald there, he got wind of their plan. Seems they’ve moved the day up a bit, no idea of Buffy’s situation, I suppose. But then again?”

Spike glanced about the room and saw the other men, there, for the first time. He was stunned at the amount of faces he saw in his living room.

Old Sean Fitzgerald, his son Sean Jr. and grandson, Seamus were there, in Spike’s living room. The three men wore serious faces. As did Mr. Chase and Mayor Wilkens and his oldest boy, Thomas. They were there too, as was Willie O’Toole, the bar keep at Corrigan’s Pub in Balleycastle.

“More are coming, son,” Father Giles assured Spike, eagerly, “Xander’s in Balleycastle, putting the word out about old Ethan’s plot. I swear,” the priest continued through gritted teeth, “I’ll excommunicate the old devil, Ethan, myself for this.”

“Xander’ll make sure there are at least a dozen more men, to stand with you William,” Mr. Chase chimed in with a firm nod. “He had to stay in town, get the word out about Ethan’s mischief.” Mr. Chase frowned in disgust when he mentioned Finn-Rayne’s given name.

“Corrigan will be here soon, Spike,” Willie grinned at his old friend. Spike noted that Willie looked almost giddy with excitement, but the little man always did enjoy a good fight.

“My friends,” Spike began, almost too choked up with emotion to speak. “I, I don’t know what to say,” he stammered. Then he thought of his Buffy, their child’s impending birth, his own sister and the Chase women.

“The women,” Spike gasped, “I can’t believe that even old Ethan and his reprobate family would ever try this, now?”

“He would, and they are,” Father Giles hissed in disgust. “That old sot, Ethan Finn-Rayne, has little or no respect for any human, William,” he spat. “Not even a woman having a child. He’ll burn for this one, I know it.”

Spike blushed, thinking about Buffy in the next room, suffering all that pain to bring their child into the world. To what? What if the Raynes took him and turned him over to… Worse then that? What if something happened to Buffy, or the baby? To all of these fine men and women who were here to help him?

The front door of his home opened and the distraction broke into Spike’s morbid musings. He stared at the tall, dark-haired figure that made his way into the living room and up to Spike.

“Angel?” Spike whispered in shock.

“I hope you include me in that, Will,” Angel O’Hara said, quietly. “When you called ‘us’ all your friends that is.”

Spike didn’t hesitate, he broke from Father Giles’ strong hold and flung himself into his younger brother’s outstretched arms. The older O’Hara fought the tears of relief that tried to slip from his eyes.

“Oh, Angel,” Spike whispered in a cracked voice. “I’m so glad you’re here,” he rasped.


A/N: This is going on way too long, sorry. Two more chapters and then, I promise, maybe a short epilogue and that’s the finis!
I want to finish A Murder in Sunnydale, like tomorrow, then maybe this one, next day or so. Then I can start my knew Spuffy fic. Thanks for reading, please review. Luv, Spuf

NA GRACH CROI


Chapter 27: ‘Iargall Buir!’ (Battle Cry!)



Spike listened to Father Giles as the priest explained just where Angel had been holed up for the last three days. Apparently, Angel was concerned that his brother might not welcome him back with open arms, so he stayed with the Father for a while.

“Will!” came Buffy’s pained cry from the bedroom, breaking into the conversation.

“I’ve got to go to Buffy,” Spike whispered in fear as she headed towards their bedroom.

“Don’t come in!” Buffy yelped as Will’s handsome face appeared in the doorway. “Just wanted to see you,” she stammered in pain. “Wanted to see your blue eyes, Will.”

“I’m here, baby,” Spike smiled at his wife, lovingly. “I’m not going anywhere, I promise. Angel is here, sweet,” Spike added.

“I know,” Buffy replied weakly, “Cordy told me. Seems that Cordelia here and Angel have already had their reunion.” Buffy smiled through her pain, happy that the couple seemed to be on the right road now.

With a bright blush, Cordelia Chase shook her dark head and hurried over to the bedroom door. “Out William O’Hara,” she echoed her Mother’s words, “this is no place for a man. We’ll take care of your Buffy, promise.”

“They’re coming,” Seamus Fitzgerald cried out from his position at the front window. “I see that old heathen, Ethan Finn-Rayne, along with his gormless sons, Riley and Roderick.”

“We’ll form a human wall,” Spike barked, suddenly taking full charge. “On the front porch, we’ll make a human wall,” he ordered.

The men headed out onto the front porch and stood tall, together. They watched as Ethan Finn-Rayne, his two sons and their ‘hands’ approached the O’Hara front doorstep.

“We’ve come for you William O’Hara,” Ethan called out, smugly. “It’s time to pay for your crimes against England, boy. Come with us, quietly, it’ll go better for you and your family.”

“I’m going no where with you, Rayne,” Spike growled loudly. “Not today, not ever. My place is here, with my wife and child. Who by the way is about to be born in my home. You’re a real bastard Ethan, to come here now and try to take me from them.”

Spike was standing at the edge of his front porch, his hands clenched into fists by his sides. Angel took his place, next to his older brother.

Father Giles and Mayor Wilkens, along with his son, Thomas stood next to Angel. Mr. Chase stood right next to Angel O’Hara.

“Mr. Chase?” Angel began, quietly, “I was wondering. When this is over? I’d like to court Cordelia, properly that is.”

“I’d be more then happy son,” Mr. Chase responded evenly. “I can’t think of finer family then the O’Haras, to have my only child be a part of.”

Sean Fitzgerald, the younger and older, stood next to Mr. Chase, as did wicked Willie, the bar keep.

“You stand with him, then Father?” Ethan Finn-Rayne asked in mild surprise at the sight of the parrish priest, beside William ‘Spike’ O’Hara.

“I do,” the priest answered, evenly enough. “William O’Hara is a fine man, Ethan, better then you or your whole worthless family put together.”

“So this is it?” Riley Finn-Rayne chuckled loudly. “An ex-Fenn, a useless priest and old politician and his whelp? Two puffed up old Irish by the names of Fitzgerald and their namesake? A lad barely old enough to take a drink in a pub? Oh,” Riley continued, smugly, “and a crippled up fool?”

Spike felt, rather then saw his younger brother, Angel, flinch, next to him. “Hold steady, boy,” Spike hissed to Angel, “Riley’s only strong when he’s baiting others.”

“We stand together,” Spike stood up to his full heighth. “My brother, myself and these men. You’re a fool to think you or your fucking family will ever beat us down. Right?” Spike glanced about at the dozen or so men about him.

“Right, William,” the various men answered in unison. They all held tight to their various weapons. Spike had a rifle, as did Angel, of course, Father Giles needed no gun. The priest had his God to stand with him. Mr. Chase carried a gun, as did Mayor Wilkens and his boy, Thomas. The others had rifles, however, none of them held their weapons up to face off with the Raynes. Not at the moment anyway.

“So you’ll stand for this upstart,” Ethan gasped, a little shocked by the loyal display. “You’ll risk your lives for this Irish piece of shit?”

“We will,” Mayor Wilkens nodded solemnly. “Rather him then your own bastard family. You’re a piece of worthless trash, Ethan Finn-Rayne,” the Mayor continued. “You’ve never fit in with us, never will.”

“As we will,” Xander Harris’s strong voice came from behind the Raynes and their group of men. The new group of men rode their horses up to the O’Hara front area and joined the other men. These men must have arrived at the farm from the back roads, as no one there had seen them.

“We will not let you take William O’Hara from here, or his family,” Xander confirmed the battle cry. “We’ll die first,” he finished.


“We’ll stand by William and his family,” the pub owner, Corrigan hissed at the Finn-Rayne patriach.

“So,” Ethan grumbled as he looked at the young and old men before him, “the Sinn Fenn, or should I call you by your new name? The Irish Republican Army? So you’re in this too, eh? Standing against me and mine? For this worthless…”

“If the IRA was here, Mr. Ethan Finn-Rayne,” the younger Danny Corrigan spouted out, firmly, “then your grand white house would be burned to the ground already, sir.”

The men about Spike, on the front porch laughed loudly. Spike noticed that Riley Finn-Rayne sat up, even further in his saddle. The old devil, Ethan, looked past nervous, he looked terrified.

“You,” Ethan began, a little less boldly then before. “Your farm, it should be mine,” the old sot glowered at the fair-haired O’Hara. My family owned this land, once, over two hundred years ago. Some worthless King, with a conscious and weak heart granted you O’Haras this place. “But it’s mine, always was, before, should be again.” Ethan’s sentence ended in a raspy cry but he was much less loud then before.

“No Rayne,” Spike shook his head, “this farm is ‘my’ family’s place. Mine, my wife and childrens’ home. It was built for me, my brother and sister, any of the people we choose to bring here. You’re not welcome here, Ethan. You, your sons or your hired guns. The truth is?” Spike smirked at the eldest Finn-Rayne, “is that you are all washed up, old man.”

Ethan looked as if he’d been kicked in the gut, a hundred times. He glanced about at the twenty or so men who now occupied the O’Hara front porch and then at his sons. The men behind them, his hired hands, all gave Ethan confused looks.

“Mr. Rayne,” Graham finally spoke up. “I’m recently married, to a fine woman. I’ve a child on the way, sir,” the young hand stammered. “I want to go home, Mr. Rayne,” he continued, averting his eyes from his boss. “I want to see my wife and upcoming child again.”

With a nod of his own fair head, Graham turned his horse and rode off, quickly, down the road to Balleycastle.

“Me too,” Doyle piped in, a little louder then Graham had. “I don’t’ have a wife, or child,” he shook his dark head sadly. “But I want to, someday.” The young man turned his own steed and headed off, after Graham.

The other Rayne hands seemed to mumble among themselves, shooting harsh looks at Ethan and his sons. Anyone could see that the Finn-Rayne camp was about to mutiny.

“Well,” Ethan hissed, angrily, “this is some battle, eh, Riley?” The old man glared at his oldest son. He glared at the the men on the porch, especially at Spike O’Hara, his nemisis.

“It is to me,” Riley hissed in response and pulled his gun out, aiming it at Spike. He cocked the gun’s safety and glared with hatred at Spike O’Hara.

“Don’t need a bunch of fucking cowards with us Da,” Riley continued as he cocked the rifle and set it’s sights on Spike. “I’ll take this fuck out myself.”

A shot rang out, and Riley Finn-Rayne fell from his huge horse, to the ground. He was not dead, nor would he be. The shooter had hit Riley in the arm, nothing more.

Angel O’Hara set his just fired rifle down on the front porch of his family home. He never even bothered to look at Riley Finn-Rayne, his target.

“Take him home,” Spike ordered Ethan and his youngest son. “Get this piece of shit off of my property, Rayne,” he added sternly.

Ethan glared down at his oldest son, Riley, with disappointment in his eyes. He then nodded at his younger boy who jumped from his own horse and helped his wounded older brother up.

“Go from here,” Spike hissed at the Raynes. “Go from here and never show your faces again.”

Old Ethan Rayne glared at Spike, then his brother, Angel and finally at Father Giles. “We’ll go,” the man grunted, helping his injured son up on his horse.

“We won’t be back,” the old man grumbled. “I hate this fucking country anyway. I’d rather be a poor royal in England then a lousy land owner in this poor place.”

Ethan Finn-Rayne motioned for his two boys and their employees to follow him away.

The group on the porch watched as the other men rode off, slowly, their shoulders slumped in defeat.

“Good riddance,” Father Giles snorted as he made the sign of the cross over his chest.

Spike smiled at his priest, then his younger brother. Finally, he began to laugh, loudly, along with his friends, still congregated on his front porch.

When the men finally stopped laughing, and there was quiet? A loud, lusty baby’s cry broke the silence of the air. A ‘battle cry’ of his own, heralded his birth into the world.

“Buffy,” Spike whispered as he dropped his gun and ran into the house. He headed straight for the bedroom, determined to enter it and not allow anyone to keep him from his wife and child.

“Come in William O’Hara,” Mrs. Chase smiled, benevolently at the new father. “Your son is waiting for you.”

Buffy was cooing over the little bundle she now held in her arms. Spike’s wife looked exhausted but wonderfully happy.

“Patrick William,” she purred at her newborn son as she cuddled the child to her.

“Buffy?” Spike whispered, a little in awe of his wife and new child before him.

“Our son,” Buffy smiled, tears streaming down her lovely cheeks. “We’ve a son, Will,” she cried out in joy, holding the swaddled bundle out to his father.

“Oh, Buffy,” Spike murmered as he fell onto the bed, next to his wife and child. He let the tears that had been building for hours, finally fall from his eyes.

“Ours,” Buffy whispered as she nuzzled her head into her husband’s neck. Will held their newborn son, now, clutching the warm bundle to his body, tightly.

“Thank you,” Spike whispered to his wife, placing his right arm about her slim shoulders. “You’re my rock, Buffy. I love you,” he added, stroking his son’s tender cheek with his calloused hand.

Spike’s ‘grach croi’ nearly bursting with emotion as he snuggled both his wife and son to him.

“Thank you, Will,” Buffy replied, sincerely. “You’re ‘my’ rock William O’Hara and I love you,” she echoed as she closed her eyes to rest. Much needed and earned rest, that is.



A/N: Not much of a ‘battle’ I know, but I wanted a peaceful ending to the conflict. Next, it’s the epilogue.

Thank you for everyone reading this and reviewing this. You guys are the best.

Luv, Spuf

NA GRACH CROI



Epilogue:


‘Northern Ireland; 1927’


Buffy O’Hara sat on the porch of her home, the O’Hara farm and watched ten children at play on the front lawn.

Her and her Will’s son, Patrick, had taken charge of the army of O’Hara and Harris children as they rampaged around the area, playing war or something. At ten, Patrick O’Hara was the spitting image of his father, right down to William’s intense blue eyes. His little sister, Dawn, who was eight, also had their father’s blue eyes. Buffy’s green eyes had not appeared in their offspring until little Tara, who was now six years of age. Collin, the youngest, who was barely three had Buffy’s green orbs, also, but he already favored his father, William O’Hara, in his other physical features.

Xander and Nancy Harris’s youngest child, Sean, chased after Dawn O’Hara, squealing wildly. The two older Harris boys were out and about with their parents, somewhere.

Angel O’Hara stood next to his older brother, William, as the two men watched their offspring, contently. Angel and Cordelia O’Hara’s three children, Liam, Careen and Colleen, skipped about the front yard, following their idol, their cousin Patrick about as if he were a God.

Sean Fitzgerald’s two children, Sean Jr. and Seamus, stumbled along after the O’Hara brood. All of them squealed and laughed, merrily, as they played their game of war to win the flag. Except of course, Patrick, who at ten, was far too old to carry on in such a wild, childish manner.

After courting Cordelia Chase for the unheard short time of three months, Angel had married her. Their three children came quickly after that, as did William’s and Buffy’s last three.

“What does Tara say?” William asked as he sat down next to Buffy and took her tiny hand in his. Buffy still held the letter that the O’Hara sister had sent to them, just received today.

“She and Willow’s shop is fine,” Buffy smiled softly and squeezed Will’s hand in hers. “They’re doing quite well in California. I’m glad they went ahead and decided to set up shop there, near Los Angeles. I think the girls fit right in, don’t you?”

Spike glanced at his wife and nodded, reluctantly. He had been sad when his only sister left Ireland, with her best friend, to start a new life in America. Everyone had been pretty surprised by it, as Tara always seemed a bit shy and reserved. It had been her idea, though, and since neither of Willow or Tara seemed interested in any of the local men, or marriage, their move had worked out.

Long ago Spike had come to the conclusion that Tara loved Willow more then she would ever love another man, so, he encouraged the women to strike out on their own. Just as he had accepted the fact that after Angel married Cordelia, they would live in Balleycastle. This way, Angel could become true partners with Mr. Chase, in his mercantile business,which had been expanding steadily over the past ten years.

“Any big news?” William asked Buffy, bringing her hand to his mouth, for a kiss.

“Well, they’re expanding the shop, again. California has been quite good to Tara and Willow, Will, I’m glad they took a chance and moved there.”

“True. I was sad to see Tara go so far away, but if it’s what was best for her, then so be it.” Spike smiled down at his little wife of eleven years. She was as tiny and beautiful as the first time he laid eyes on her, in Belfast, years before.

Buffy watched her husband, carefully, noting the contentment in his blues eyes. Once again, she was happy that her and Will had decided to stay in Ireland, on the farm. She had been a little gun shy at first, still worried about her past haunting them, but that had been a waste of time. Their neighbors and friends had always welcomed Buffy with open arms and she belonged here now. Happily, she always would.

“Well,” Spike sighed, “I suppose we should get the Fitzgerald terrors back up to their house, huh Angel? The dark haired man nodded in response. He was still the quiet one of the family, but now it was more from honest contentment and happiness, not bitterness anymore.

“Patrick,” Buffy called out to her son, “round up your sisters and brother, Daddy is going to take Sean and Seamus home. You go with him, dear,” she smiled, warmly at her little man.

“Yes, Ma,” Patrick grinned and began to rustle up his siblings, with great authority. He strutted about, like an army officer and barked orders to the younger children.

“He always watches out for them, doesn’t he?” Spike grinned as he watched his oldest son taking charge of the young ones.

“Always,” Buffy murmered, lovingly, “just like his Dad, always watching out for his family.”

“I love you, Buffy, with all of my heart,” Spike whispered as he leaned over and kissed his wife on her warm, flushed cheek.

“I love you, Will. Oh, and Will,” Buffy gazed into her husbands, loving blue eyes. She blushed brightly with shyness, as she always had and always would.

“I wondered,” she whispered with a little giggle, “what do you truly think of William for a boy’s name?”

“Well,” Spike began, a little confused, “I like it enough, I guess,” he scratched his head. “But, wait a minute,” he sat up and stared in shock at his wife. “Are you saying?”

“That I am, William O’Hara,” Buffy giggled happily, placing his hand on her tummy. “Another O’Hara is on the way and I’m more then certain that it’s another boy, so, this time I’m putting my foot down. His name ‘will’ be William.”

She set her mouth in a stubborn line and raised her right brow at her husband. Buffy was rewarded with a quick grin from Will and another kiss on her mouth this time.

“William will be fine, Princess,” he chuckled, gleefully, “as long as he’s healthy, happy and grows to be a good man. Then any name will suit him.”

“Yes,” Buffy agreed with a warm smile, “I know my boys and my girls will grow to be good people. They have you, Will, as their father. You and your good, strong, loving heart.”


The End


A/N: Thank you to everyone who read this fiction. Thanks for the reviews. Luv, Spufette