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Spike flexed his injured hand, growling at the pain. “I'll have you know this is the hand I get friendly with.”

Angel rolled his eyes. “Oh, you'll live.” He knocked on Giles' door.

The Watcher opened the door and immediately started gaping. “What's going on?”

“Tha's wha' we're tryin' to figure out,” Spike said.

Giles stepped back. “Come inside.”

The bleach blond sank into the graying Brit's sofa. “Buffy's alive.”

“What?” he barked.

He nodded. “Thank yer redheaded witch. She's absolutely bonkers. An' she's got followers whose fanaticism nearly match that of Manson's.”

“You're absolutely sure?” Giles asked, aghast.

“Wish I could give you more evidence since you love the shit outta that. But the man I found diggin' Buffy's grave is gone. I was patrollin' when I found 'im. Tol' me the Slayer was suffocatin' in her own grave thanks to those children of yours.”

The Watcher removed his glasses. “Where is she?”

“Clem's.”

“She...” Giles glanced at Angel. He narrowed his eyes. “Why are you here?”

Angel squeezed the bridge of his nose. “Willow called me. Said the Hellmouth is Slayerless and getting out of control.”

Giles picked up the phone, his words clipped. “She has a lot of explaining to do.”

“I rather think they all do,” Angel growled.

“For once I agree with Peaches,” Spike piped up. “They've all gone ravin' mad.” He paused when he heard the phone on the other end start to ring. “Watcher. Willow doesn' know what she's done.”

Giles closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

“Hello?” It was Dawn on the other end.

“Dawn, please put Willow on the phone,” Giles gritted out.

Dawn didn't speak again, instead transferring the phone to the witch in question.

“H-Hello?” Willow sounded like she was about to blubber.

“What have you done?” Giles all but growled.

“Wh-Wha--”

“Buffy is alive!” the Watcher roared.

“Sh-She...” Willow sounded elated. “She is?”

“Don't you dare see this as an accomplishment, Willow. Who else was involved?” Giles snapped.

Willow had grown quiet on the other line. “I saved her,” she said darkly. “Of course I see it as an accomplishment. I went to the cemetery but her grave had already been put back. Tara and I were working on a locating spell just when you called.”

“No need,” Giles retorted. “We already know of her whereabouts.”

“Where is she?” Willow demanded.

“I think that concern is out of your hands now,” Giles said dangerously. “Did you call Angel? Because he's here standing right now in the middle of my living room.”

“I asked him for help--”

“You lied to him.”

Willow clammed up. After a long pause, she murmured, “I thought you'd be happy. Out of everyone I expected you to be the most grateful.”

“For disturbing the laws of nature? For leaving my charge in her grave? These are dark magicks that you have been dabbling in, Willow. These forces are not for you to touch. There are consequences involved in doing things like this. I am awfully disappointed.”

“Disappointed?” Willow nearly shrieked. “I'm not a child that you can just talk down to!”

“No, but you are making decisions like one. And I am at fault for this. I did not supervise you enough in your practices. Willow, I wish to meet with you. And everyone.”

“Where is Buffy?” she asked again.

“Safe,” Giles said, slamming down the phone. He turned to the two master vampires standing behind him. “Please take me to her,” he murmured, sounding defeated and ragged.

Angel glanced at Spike and opened the front door. “Lead the way.”

Spike sighed and walked past the threshold.

“I haven't enough patience to walk,” Giles called. “I'll retrieve my keys.”

The Watcher and the two master vampires climbed into the Citroen, Spike navigating as Giles drove.

~~

“F'got my keys,” Spike growled, rapping impatiently on the door.

Clem opened it seconds later, raising his eyebrows. “Hey, man, you should let me know if we're gonna have guests.”

Spike felt like his head might explode. “They weren't expected.”

The loose-skinned demon stepped back. “Ah.” He glanced at Angel. “Come in, I guess.”

The bleach blond went for the door to the guest quarters. He knocked gently before turning the knob. “Luv--” His eyes widened at the tableau in front of him. Buffy was attempting to close a button-up shirt while still giving Margaret access to her nipple. “Luv?” he whispered.

She smiled radiantly at him. “I started lactating, Spike! That's why they were hurting so much.”

“Lactating?” Angel nearly shrieked. “What the fuck is going on?”

Buffy's face fell. “Wh-Wh--”

Spike closed the door and whirled around to face Angel and the Watcher. “Calm. The fuck. Down.”

The sound of Margaret crying came from the other room. Buffy opened the door with the writhing child in her arms, her wide-eyed stare going from Giles to Angel to Giles again.

“Spike--” she said desperately.

He took Margaret from her. She immediately launched herself into Giles' arms. Her Watcher enveloped her into a warm embrace, holding her tightly.

Angel's face had fallen into a permanent frown. He stared at the child in Spike's arms. Margaret turned her head and stared back.

Spike raised his eyebrow. “This is Margaret,” he said simply, plopping the baby into Angel's lap.

“When did...” Angel's brows furrowed deeper as he lifted the child closer to his face.

Her father watched as the girl fisted some of Angel's hair, seemingly repulsed when she pulled back and found gel all over her palm. “Five months ago. When Buffy jumped. I found 'er in my crypt. She's mine.” He lowered his voice. “An' Buffy's.”

Margaret whined, not liking the sensation of the gel.

“Sorry,” Angel muttered, taking her hand and wiping it on his shirt. “But how?”

Spike shrugged. “Dunno. Bu' m'not gonna jus' leave a kid sittin' in a crypt. 'Specially one that's mine.” He sniffed. “Smelled like me f'some reason. An' Buffy. Usually children have their own scent.” He stood up to get a wipe, taking Margaret's hand and cleaning off the rest of the gel.

Margaret grabbed Angel's nose, moving in to put her mouth on it.

“Hey!” Angel cried.

Buffy laughed. When the dark haired vampire shot a glare at her, she covered her mouth to muffle her giggles.

Spike smiled up at her from the couch. “S'good to see you smilin', luv, 'specially if it's at the expense o' Peaches'.”

“Sorry,” she chortled, not sounding very apologetic at all.

“I want to meet with everyone,” Giles said from behind them.

Buffy turned around, biting her lower lip.

“I'll understand if you don't want to see them yet,” he said quietly.

“No,” Buffy said gently. “I'll come with.”

The Watcher nodded. “Would you like to reschedule for tomorrow evening? It's getting rather late.”

“That'd be great,” she murmured, taking Margaret from Angel. “Gives me a little time to prepare, you know?”

Giles looked at Angel. “Are you staying?”

The dark haired vampire shook his head. “No. I've got to get back.” He glanced at Buffy. “Can I talk to you for a second?”

A dangerous look came over Spike's features. Buffy walked over to the bleach blond and kissed his forehead.

“Yeah,” she said softly. “I'll walk you to the door.”

“Buffy--”

She shook her head. “If you're going to say something condescending I don't wanna hear it. I'm tired, Angel. I've been back for less than three days and I've already experienced about a year's drama, and dirty diapers. If you want to talk about anything you consider pressing, give me a call in maybe... Two weeks at the most.”

The ensouled vampire stared at her, his lips pressed in a tight, thin line. After several long seconds, he spoke: “Good luck, Buffy.” And then he turned around and sauntered out the door.

Giles stepped forward when Buffy stared outside far longer than it took for her ex-boyfriend to get in his car and leave. “Buffy, are you alright?”

She turned around and forced a smile. “I will be.” She closed the door. “Stay a little longer?” she asked, her voice small.

“As long as you need,” Giles said gently, wrapping an arm around his charge. He kissed the top of her head when she leaned it against his shoulder.

“I don't really feel like talking about anything serious,” she warned, sitting down on the couch and taking Margaret from Spike as she reached for her.

He nodded. “Of course.”

“Who knew I could make such a pretty baby?” she whispered, touching her fingertip to her daughter's nose.

“Hey! I apparently had a hand in that,” Spike joked.

She nodded, smiling at him shyly. “I-I think I'm ready to patrol soon.”

The two Brits looked at her, surprised.

“Buffy, are you sure?” Giles asked.

She nodded again and shrugged. “What else was I brought back for?”

“Buffy,” Giles said gently, “I think you should take as much time as you need. Everyone has been doing a superb job looking after the Hellmouth.”

“I took enough time,” she said, sitting straighter.

Spike stared at her, a look of longing naked on his features. “Buffy, please,” he whispered. “Let's talk about this, yeah?”

She shook her head. “No. That's final. Tomorrow I'm returning to my duties.” She glanced down at Margaret's serene face. “I have to keep my family safe.”

Giles frowned. “Did you have a Slayer dream?”

“It didn't feel like it,” Buffy murmured. “But it felt important enough.” She looked up at him. “I'll tell you about it tomorrow.”

When Giles left, Spike put a tentative hand on Buffy's shoulder.

“Luv...” he whispered. “Spend some more time with your baby. Try to relax. Please?”

“I will,” she replied. “But there are a couple things I need to take care of.”

“If this involves Margaret, I really don' appreciate you leavin' me out f'it,” Spike remarked, his temper rising. “You need to be aware now that your actions--”

“My actions affect everybody? Of course they do, and they always have, Spike! You think I don't know that?”

Margaret began to cry in her arms. Buffy's face fell.

“M'jus' sayin' that whatever you're thinkin' of doin' might be a little irrational, luv,” Spike said gently, his voice even. “Wha' are you gonna do? Go out there and slash some poor sods' necks and spit on their dust 'til you feel better? Use your duties as an excuse to take out your frustrations?”

Buffy's shoulders shook.

“An' while you're angry you won' be thinkin' much 'bout your own safety, will you?” Spike pressed on, a little more aggressively this time. He held out his hands, beckoning her to give him Margaret. “You can't call all the shots jus' because you're feeling hurt an' self-righteous, luv. At leas' not for long.”

“What else am I supposed to do?” the Slayer whispered, tears escaping from her eyes.

“Let me help you,” Spike begged. “An' the Watcher. Let him help you, too. I understand you're angry, luv. M'not tryin' to say it ain't right, or appropriate. What they did was wrong. Hell, I wan' to tear off some heads jus' the same.”

Buffy sank into the couch, bursting into tears. Margaret blinked in surprise when a wayward one dropped onto her cheek.

At that moment, Clem cut in, taking the young girl. Spike sat down beside Buffy and pulled her into his side, making soothing clucking noises with his tongue when she buried her face into his chest and sobbed.





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