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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





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