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Author's Chapter Notes:
Mild smut alert! More to come in the next chapter.
Chapter 9

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Where would they take her?" Buffy asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The witches nodded.

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

"Promise," he said.

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

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

She found herself outside of Spike's crypt instead.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Um, hi," she said.

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

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

"Why are you here, Slayer?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She certainly wanted him.

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

But in that moment, he was more.





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