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Story Notes:
*NOTE* Dawn is eighteen in this fic instead of sixteen and Angel Season Five will start a little later than in cannon.
Prologue

Buffy panted as she willed herself to keep going, to move faster, but with every step she took, she began to grow more tired than ever. But she didn’t have time to rest. They were chasing her, she could feel them catching up with her as if they were right on her heels. She resisted the urge to look over her shoulder as almost every teen she’d ever seen in a horror movie did before getting killed. If she were to look back, then she wouldn’t be looking ahead, and if she wasn’t looking ahead then she would do something stupid, like trip. And she didn’t have time to make mistakes. She had to keep running. Not only for herself, but for the little miracle that was growing away in her stomach.

Giles had warned her not to go out until they were sure that these mystery guys were harmless, but she just couldn’t resist. She’d thought she would go find someone to give her information about these guys, but she hadn’t even made it to the local demon haunts before they had found her. Willow had done a spell around the house, masking her presence, so that whatever these guys were using to track her couldn’t work as long as she stayed inside the house.

And that was the problem; she’d been locked inside that house for two weeks, ever since they’d announced their attack on her, with nothing to do but watch TV, research, and listen to teen girls whine over every little thing imaginable; even Dawn was staring to get sick of that last one, which said a lot. She had been going stir-crazy and needed an escape. Given she probably could have picked a less dangerous time of day – or night – to start getting adventurous.

If he was here, he’d protect her, these guys would have been nothing but a memory by now, she was sure. She didn’t like to think about him because it hurt too much, so she tried to concentrate on the feeling of having his child nestled inside of her. She didn’t know if she could be a mother, but she’d try, for him. She felt a pang in her heart every time she realized that he would never get to hold his child, teach him how to play soccer, or football as they called it in Europe – people could be so weird so weird here sometimes. Or if their baby was a girl, he would never get to scare off the horde of teenage boys that would chase after her; never get to hear her call him daddy. She was sure he’d make a great father. If only he were here.

The cool London air rushing against her face only made the tears that were now pouring down her face feel colder as she thought back to that last night they’d shared in her basement. The loving words he’d whispered in her ear, the feel of his hands caressing her skin as they rocked together, slowly and lovingly, when he’d sank his fangs deep into her right breast which had them both falling over the edge, screaming in ecstasy.

Why hadn’t she told him then? Why had she kissed Angel? She’d told Spike that it was a ‘Hello’. But in reality, she’d had no clue why she’d done it. She knew now though. She’d had a lot of time to think over the last month and a half, to grieve over his death. Kissing Angel hadn’t been a ‘Hello,’ it had been a ‘Goodbye’.

Losing Angel had nearly destroyed her at the time. He had been her first love, and because of that she would always feel something for him; but not love, at least not the kind of love she felt for Spike. He’d been a fairytale in her sixteen year old mind. Being with him had caused her more pain and happiness then she would’ve ever imagined. But life wasn’t a fairytale. People didn’t grow up and marry their Prince Charming; they grew up and fell in love. Deep, messy, complicated love. She knew that now.

When Angel had died, she’d done the one thing that made since in her teenaged mind. She’d run, and hurt the people she’d cared most about in the world in the process. When Spike had died, she’d done the grown up thing and went through the five stages of grief.

Denial had been the easiest that the others had had to deal with, so Dawn says anyway. She’d been absolutely nuts though. Going around, waiting for Spike to pop up out of nowhere with a ‘Honey, I’m home!’ and a kiss with her name on it. No one had even known that she was grieving until Dawn had gotten so angry that she wasn’t the least bit sad that Spike was gone. At the time she’d just laughed it off, which had only added more fire to the fury that she could see in Dawn’s eyes. Then, to the shock of everyone else in the room, she’d explained that Spike wasn’t gone and that as soon as he found a way, he’d be back.

She could clearly remember the pity in Dawn’s eyes when she realized that her sister was in denial, Willow’s barely contained tears that were pooled in her eyes over one of her best friend’s grief, the way Giles had slowly removed and cleaned his glasses, and even Xander, who had one arm around Willow’s shoulders, wasn’t looking at her.

They’d tried to explain that night that Spike wasn’t coming back, that he was gone, but she hadn’t wanted to hear it and had instead fled to the comfort of her room. Later that night she’d found one of Spike’s black t-shirts which must have gotten mixed in with her stuff when rushing to pack what little they could take with them. It had sent her into the second stage of grief.

Anger.

She’d been so angry at anyone and anything to pass her by. She’d even yelled at a sweet old lady who’d bumped into her in the grocery store. Whenever her friends would see her coming, they would immediately turn in the opposite direction and walk away as fast as they could. And Spike. He was where the center of her anger had been placed. Why hadn’t he taken off the stupid necklace? Did he want to die more than stay with her?

How dare he?

But the anger had eventually begun to fade and she’d taken to the third stage of grief like a bee to honey. Bargaining. She’d remembered the demon Spike had told her about and had made up her mind to go to him and ask him to bring Spike back. It had been Willow that had talked her out of it. Willow had reminded her that to bring back a life – or un-life as the case may be – a life must be taken in return. She’d had no idea that Willow blamed herself for Tara’s death. She’d known her friend hadn’t exactly moved on with that fling she’d had with Kennedy, but she’d never expected that Willow had placed the blame on herself.

And after a few more days of ‘what ifs?’ she’d fallen into a deep depression. It was also when the morning sickness had started. She’d lain in bed, hardly ever ate anything, and sat in the dark all day. The only time she’d left the house was for a doctor’s appointment that Dawn had forced her into going to. Two days later the doctor had called and given her the best news she’d had in what felt like forever. She was one month pregnant, give or take a few days. So she’d started eating again, going out into the sun, and training with the SITs, though Spike was never far from her mind. He’d given her this precious gift and she’d treasure it forever, making sure their little girl or boy knew exactly what and who his or her father had been. Her champion.

Buffy came back to herself when she felt her left foot get caught on a root probably belonging to the nearby tree she saw out of the corner of her eye. She’d been so lost in her thoughts that she’d completely forgotten to focus on getting away from the enemy. Buffy fell to the ground, twisting her ankle in the process. Shouting out in pain as she landed hard on the ground, Buffy rolled over and untangled her foot, trying to ignore the pain, and began to try dragging her body somewhere away from the demons, or vampires, or whatever they were.

But when she looked up, they were already surrounding her, each looked the same. Their faces were expressionless as if this was just another job they had to do. Each had some sort of half-sun tattoo over their left eye, with daggers clutched tightly in their hands. But there was another one. She couldn’t see his face for some reason but he had no dagger in his hand and she knew. He was the leader.

 He knelt down in front of her and reached a hand out, placing it on her stomach. She couldn’t move, couldn’t swat his hand away like she desperately wanted to. The man was looking her directly in the eyes when he spoke in a harsh whisper.

"We're coming for you."

Buffy jerked up in her bed with a gasp, her hands immediately traveling to her stomach to check on her baby. She wished it was just a nightmare. Though she knew in her heart it wasn’t.





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