Disclaimer: I don't own or profit from BtVS.

Thank you to ObscureBookWyrm. I made her work overtime on this chapter.

The Dawning

Chapter Nine

Buffy had put her blouse to rights and had Dawn on her shoulder, burping her, when a tingle crawled its way down her spine. Spike snapped to attention, his entire focus on the door to the crypt and the graveyard outside.

"Vampires," Buffy whispered. "Lots of them." She shot up from the Barcalounger, settling Dawn on the seat near the back, and used her rolled-up blanket to pin her in. By the time she finished, Spike was already at the door, fanged out, yellow-eyed, and armed with a two-headed axe. He looked dangerous and ready to kill. The sight of him looking so deadly shouldn't excite her, but it did.

Propped next to the door was a sword and Buffy swiped it up, ignoring how her sweaty palms slid over the leather-wrapped hilt. Buffy didn't fear battle. She liked dancing with death. But with Dawn tucked only a few feet away, going into battle took on a whole new level of intensity.

Buffy didn't need to win the fight to save her own skin or even the entire world. She had to fight to save her daughter. If she failed, there'd be no one standing between Dawn and whatever was coming after her. Buffy never wanted Dawn to catch a glimpse of what she fought every night. Monsters with fangs and claws, and with death in their eyes. She had to keep standing to protect her daughter.

Slanting a look at Spike, Buffy sensed the same intensity thrumming through him, the knowledge that he was fighting for more than just himself. Fighting for more than just Buffy. They were fighting for their child.

Heat and fury pumped through her veins, heightening her senses. She had never felt so scared or so powerful.

She nodded to Spike, who, on her mark, yanked open the door and leaped out. Buffy followed him, slamming the door shut behind her.

"Wait!" Buffy grabbed Spike by the arm, holding him back before he could leap into the fray.

Gilgamesh stood at the head of a dozen warrior vampires, dressed in studded leather cuirasses and armed to the teeth. The gigantic vampire inclined his head, palms pressed together as he bowed.

"Ama-gi. Dusk has descended upon us. We await and will escort you and The Miraculous One to your abode."

"Her name is Dawn," Buffy sighed. The point of her sword fell toward the ground. Seriously. The guy was a bazillion years old. Surely he could remember the name of the infant he was pledged to protect?

Gilgamesh inclined his head without replying. Typical. The man was of few words, that was for sure. Buffy had had more riveting conversation with the Fyarl demon she slayed last week, and that guy only knew three words in English. Die, slayer and screw you. Okay, so he knew four.

"Slayer. Care to clue me in?" Spike still had his axe hefted over his shoulder, ready to attack even though his stance had relaxed.

"La Sanan. Allow me to introduce myself. I am Gilgamesh of the Mitutu. We have pledged ourselves to guard your child with our unworthy lives."

Spike pivoted on his heel, brows raised. "Forget to tell me something, love?"

"I…" Buffy closed her mouth, gesturing helplessly toward the group of warriors. "I don't really have the words." She really didn't. She had no idea what to make of Gilly and his little club of Dawn worshipers. Frankly, it wigged her out more than a little. During their encounters, they were respectful, and a few always showed to escort her on her patrols. They never interfered with her kills, but she had the feeling that if things didn't go her way they'd be there to see her safe. It comforted her, knowing someone cared if she made it back to Dawn, yet it still wigged her out, big time. In her experience, fanatical vampires who branded themselves with holy symbols shouldn't be trusted.

"Wait." Spike pivoted back to Gilgamesh. "Did you just call me 'Unrivaled' in Sumerian?"

"You speak Sumerian?" Buffy's jaw sagged.

Spike ignored her, edging closer to Gilly. "Are you…" Spike looked the big man up and down, taking in his long beard with its copper spirals and topaz beads. "The Gilgamesh?"

Buffy threw up her hands. "How does everyone know this guy, but me?"

"So I guess that whole journey to the land of the undying one wasn't metaphorical, huh?" Gilgamesh nodded at Spike's words in his stately way that made Buffy think of royalty.

Spike pointed to the rest of the group, sharp eyes taking in the stylized suns branded into their foreheads. "And you're Mitutu. Dead Ones."

Again Gilgamesh nodded.

"Not strictly true, is it? Being vampires and all." When Gilgamesh didn't respond, Spike continued. "And you think my daughter is your Miraculous One?"

"A child born of a master vampire and a slayer can only be miraculous, yes?"

Spike nodded, obviously a little gobsmacked.

"Kashurra," some of the men muttered behind Gilgamesh.

"What was that?" Spike peered around the bigger man.

Gilgamesh shifted and Spike's view was cut off. Spike glared, taking a step back to assess the other man.

Gilgamesh ignored him and addressed the Slayer instead. "Rumors have been circulating, Ama-gi."

Spike snorted, drawing Buffy's attention. "What?"

"He just called you 'Freedom'."

Buffy's brow curled, watching as Spike drew out his pack of cigarettes from his coat. "Or more exactly – freedom from debts, slavery; to restore." Spike cast her a sly glance. "To return to a previous state. Return to the mother."

"What does that even mean?"

Spike shrugged.

Buffy scowled at him, before turning to question Gilgamesh. She was sick and tired of the cryptic men in her life. "What rumors?"

"That the Miraculous One is Kashurra."

Buffy turned to Spike with her brow raised. Spike blew out a stream of smoke, staring at Gilgamesh. "Awesome? I admit, Dawn is bloody fantastic, but…"

"The pure which opens."

"Opens what?" Buffy asked.

Gilgamesh shrugged. "We do not know, but we feel this must be her destiny and we will see it through."

Again with the cryptic.

8888

The four children surrounded him, sentinels guarding the treasure. That treasure being their mother, who he could hear moving around in the kitchen from which the scent of savory meat wafted.

Chantilly told them they were having Greek food, lamb something or another. Graham told her he'd never eaten authentic Greek food, unless the gyros he sometimes ate at the mall food court counted. Her disgusted look told him it didn't. He wasn't sure if her disgust was from him trying to pass off mall food as Greek or if just the thought of anyone eating anything coming from the mall made her sick.

With her pretty pink lips pulled into a pout, she shrugged and informed him she was Greek and he best get used to eating real food. Then she'd given him a once over that reminded him of his mom just before she handed him a second helping at the dinner table.

He'd thought of Chantilly as a demon; her provenance had never occurred to him. The Initiative didn't see ethnicity, only the divergence between Polgara demons and Drokken beasts. Which was stupid, now that he thought about it. Demons had their own cultures and traditions, usually stemming from whatever dimension they hailed from.

But Chantilly was Greek. An Earth demon born and bred, apparently in Ancient Greece, where her ancestors had been worshiped as the keepers of the Gallic Rose, having something to do with Persephone's bouquet. It didn't matter. All that mattered was that her people were hippie, peace-loving, flower keepers.

Her entire house reflected her green thumb tastes. Flowers and greenery spilled out from every crack and corner of the sewer apartment. Hell, a tomato plant cascaded from a wire pot dangling from the ceiling near a heat lamp, fat red fruit among the thick green vines. Graham could only imagine what the woman could do with a small corner of earth to sink her hands into. She'd make the entire place bloom.

Flowers! The woman tended flowers. You couldn't get any more innocuous than flora, and the Initiative had locked her up in a cage and tortured her. Graham had never felt more disgusted to be human.

He didn't question the invitation when issued. He was just thrilled that she invited him to her home for dinner after weeks of him going to Eden nightly. They spoke during her breaks, and finally she started letting him walk her home after her shift, instead of him following at a discreet distance, making sure she made it home to her children. Not that it didn't make him feel like a creeper. At all. But now he was finally inside, he wasn't going to do shit to fuck it up.

That meant playing nice with the demon spawn. The three youngest were sweet, big blue eyes like their mama, and the same delicate build, but the eldest truly was a demon spawn. A little witch in the making.

Ana, the youngest of the demons, wrapped her hand around the crease of his sharply pressed twill pants, only to waver and fall back on her diapered bottom when her older sister hip-checked her.

The two and half year old looked up at him with huge, betrayed eyes, the intensely blue color sparkling with unshed tears.

Graham shot a look at Lila, careful to keep his irritation in check. The thirteen-year-old was the spitting image of her mother, with coral hair with deeper undertones of lavender. All she was missing were the minute rose-colored scales along her temples and marching down her arms, although he could see a faint shimmer where they should be. He suspected the scales had something to do with puberty, something he had no desire to witness. The girl already had buckets full of attitude. None of it good, especially when directed at him.

"You're human." Five years old and the only boy in the house, Kanshe looked a little henpecked.

Graham's supposition was proven corrected when Lila hip-checked him as well. The boy cast his older sister a truly nasty glare and Graham wanted to high-five him. He saw a potential ally in the kid, and Graham needed all the allies he could get now that he was behind enemy lines.

"Humans are evil," Lila declared, arms crossed over her chest. The look on her face was worthy of any Amazonian warrior ready to castrate any males found in her territory.

Although irritated, Graham wanted to smile. He wasn't the only one who needed allies. Chantilly needed them as well, and it was clear she found one in her eldest daughter.

"Evil?" Mattie wheezed. The eight-year-old had a wan look about her and was constantly out of breath. He hadn't asked Chantilly about it yet, but he'd seen the worried looks she cast her daughter whenever she was in the room.

He was certain that the dampness of the sewer-level apartment didn't help the situation. Glancing around at the underground rooms with their cold cement walls and brick floors covered with threadbare rugs, Graham couldn't help but think of his childhood. His parents had owned a small ranch outside of Addison, Texas. He'd grown up running through fields, his Australian Collie, Shep, at his heels.

The farm had been closed up since his mom died five years ago, but he'd been thinking about it quite a bit lately. Now that he was leaving the Army, all he could think about was going home. He never realized, until he had nowhere else to go, how much he missed the ranch.

"Eve?" Ana chirped from around her thumb. She had stumbled back to her feet again, but was wise enough not to reach for him, knowing her sister would only hip-check her again.

Graham squatted down, holding out his hand. Ana took it without hesitation, making his heart do a flip in his chest.

"No, little flower. I'm not evil."

"Sure, you are." Lila pronounced. "All humans are evil. That's why we have to hide all the time."

"Lilian Rebecca Stravos, that's not true." Graham looked up, seeing Chantilly inside the doorway separating the den from the kitchen. She finished drying her hands on a crisply white dishtowel before propping her fists on her curvy hips. "Not all humans are evil. We hide to keep our family safe."

"Yeah," Lila spat. "Because humans are evil and will cut us up and put our parts in jars if they ever catch us."

Ana jerked her hand out of Graham's and started to wail.

Chantilly started forward, but Graham beat her. Pulling Ana into his arms he stood, cradling her against his chest. "Hush, little flower. No one is ever going to hurt you. I'll protect you."

"Yeah, right. Greg was an asshole, but at least he was a demon. You're just a weakling human."

Graham wasn't offended by Lila's assertion that being human made him weak. He was weaker than the average demon, but his skills made up for his lack. Now that he pledged to protect Chantilly and her children, he was confident that he'd see it through, whether he did it from a distance or from right next to Chantilly. Truthfully, he'd rather do it from beside her. He also wanted to know who the fuck Greg was.

"Apologize."

"No!"

"Then go to your room."

Graham shifted. "It's okay, I'm—"

Chantilly shot him a deadly look and he snapped his mouth shut.

"Why do I have to go my room for telling the truth?"

"You're being rude to our guest. If you can't be civilized, then you can't sit down with us to have a civilized meal."

"That's not fair. He is a human and Greg was an asshole."

Chantilly pointed to the back of the apartment, her face implacable. "Go. Don't come out until you can apologize or don't come out at all."

"Fine." She stomped down the hall, disappearing from sight. "I'll just stay in here until hell freezes over!" A door slammed, knocking one of the family portraits off the wall.

8888

Graham and Chantilly sat down on her broken-down couch, covered with a colorful, hand-knitted afghan, and watched as her three youngest cleaned up the after-dinner board game they just finished playing. Apparently, hell hadn't frozen over yet, because Lila remained in her room for the entire evening.

Graham had his arm over the back of the couch, careful not to brush Chantilly's shoulders as she sat close beside him without leaning against him. However, he couldn't stop his rebellious fingers from trapping strands of her silky hair and winding it around themselves. Her hair was truly the softest thing he'd ever touched.

Mattie wheezed and Chantilly stiffened beside him. He noted how carefully she watched Mattie, practically vibrating with the need to help her daughter, as the girl pulled out her inhaler, using it before happily going about the task of sorting the Monopoly money into piles.

"Things will be wrapped up here in two months." He didn't dare mention the Initiative by name. The place only held bad memories for them, but until the labs were closed down it was still a part of his life. Not for long. Thankfully. "After that my tour will be up."

Chantilly shifted to look up at him. No amount of time in her presence would ever inure him to the impact of her eyes. So blue they burned like the heart of the flame, searing him right down to his soul.

"I won't be reenlisting."

She lifted her hand, long pale fingers trailing along her gold-dusted collarbone. A habit she had when nervous. He ached to trail kisses in the wake of the long, elegant fingers.

"What will you do?"

"I've a ranch in Texas. Nothing big. It will sustain a couple hundred head of cattle. Enough to provide free-range meat to the local area."

Chantilly nodded, dropping her eyes away. While her looking at him always hit him like a blow to his chest, when she dropped her eyes it was like she was tearing away a piece of his soul. Always. He didn't know if that feeling would ever go away, and frankly he didn't think he wanted it to.

To ease the loss of her eyes, he pinned his gaze on Mattie. The little girl was humming as she counted the fake money, something he found endearing because there was no reason to do so now the game was over.

"The climate's dry there. Summers are pretty hot, but the rest of the time it's mild. Good for the lungs."

Chantilly whipped her head around, and the silky strands of her hair escaped his fingers. The longer she went without speaking the more he fought not to squirm. He couldn't look at her, so he watched as Kanshe patiently helped his baby sister sort the green houses from the red hotels.

"You should go now," she told him and his stomach dropped to his knees. He felt like dry heaving.

"Yeah, okay." He didn't look at her as he hauled himself up off the couch, waiting for her to lead him out.

He stood over the children, hands shoved into his pockets. "Thanks for the game, guys. It was fun."

Mattie stopped counting, her little nose wrinkling. "Maybe next time we can play Life or something. You didn't do so well at Monopoly."

Graham nodded. He played the game to have fun, not to win. He passed on property buys and made deals when he shouldn't have. Next time he wouldn't go so easy on the kids. They were ruthless.

Graham really hoped there'd be a next time. One glance at Chantilly's face told him there more than likely wouldn't be.

Kanshe pried one of the houses out of his sister's hand before she could pop it into her mouth. The house liberated from Ana's sticky fingers, the boy looked up at him, eyes unerringly zeroing in on Graham's hip. Graham dressed in civies, but his jacket didn't hide the slight bulge of his firearm. "Bet you're good at Risk."

"Not as good as you'd think, kid."

The nausea in his stomach intensified when Chantilly motioned for him to follow. "Thanks for having me, guys." He nodded to the kids as they chorused their goodbyes, only to stop when Ana waddled up to him, her tiny fist outstretched. He bent down, smiling softly when she handed him a red hotel from the game. Instead of returning it to the box, he shoved it deep in his pocket. A memento from this evening. He'd never give it up.

"Thank you, little flower." Unable to stop himself, he brushed her bangs from her eyes. She needed a haircut. She flashed him a dimpled smile before waddling off. Man, a smile like that would drive any father to drink trying to beat the boys off her when she got older.

Straightening, he followed Chantilly to the door. He stiffened when she stepped out onto the sewer walk with him, closing the door behind her. This is where she would tell him that she didn't want to see him anymore, that his advances were unwanted. He wished he could tell her that while he wanted her more than he needed air to breathe, he'd never ever push her. Even if she and her children came and lived in his house for the next thirty or forty years, he'd never ask anything from her. Just having her near him would be enough.

Avoiding her eyes, he glanced both ways down the walk, frowning. He didn't like the idea of Chantilly and the children living down in this dank sewer. It wasn't safe or healthy. They deserved better.

"You'll come back in two days for dinner."

Graham's attention snapped to her so quickly, he almost got whiplash.

"Okay."

"Of course, my favorite are Gallic roses, but any pink or gold flower will do. And red wine, I think. For dinner."

Graham nodded. Vigorously.

"Lila likes that new boy band. I forget which one."

"I'll figure it out," he said quickly.

"Good. You can start bribing her with that." She wagged his finger in his face. "But not too much bribing. You can't let her win that way."

"Right. No. Of course." No 'of course' about it. Graham had no idea how to go about thawing out the little preadolescent witch. Maybe he could buy a parenting book.

"Good." She nodded briskly.

"Good," he mimicked her, feeling a little overwhelmed.

"Now, you will kiss me."

Graham blinked, dropping his gaze to her plush, pink lips. He thought nothing could be more alluring than her eyes. He was wrong.

She poked him in the chest. "Did you not hear me, hero?"

He snapped back to attention. "I'm not a hero."

She pursed her lips and he became enraptured again. "You're my hero," she whispered.

That's it. He was going to kiss her. No way could he stop himself. He locked his arms by his side, fisting his hands. He didn't want to accidently grab her, startling her. Or worse, hurt her. God, never again did he want to see those lilac bruises blooming on her creamy skin. He had to be careful with her. Gentle.

He leaned down, conscious of how the top of her head only came to his collar bone. She tilted her head up to his, and as much as he wanted to dive right in, he held himself back. He brushed kisses along her brow, over her eyes and cheeks, until finally settling butterfly soft on her lips.

He rubbed his lips against her soft ones, barely containing his sigh. He wanted to wrap his arms around her, plunge his tongue inside her mouth and explore every dip and crevice. He wanted to curl his tongue around her name while kissing her deep.

He pulled away before he lost control and grabbed her. He watched as her lashes fluttered, loving how she looked up at him a little dazedly.

"That's it?" she demanded, and he smiled at her. Damn, she was cute.

He leaned down again, shoving his face in the crook of her neck and inhaling a lungful of her flowery scent.

"Do you work tomorrow night?" She shook her head, and he reveled at the feel of her silky hair sliding against his face. "Then I'll see you in two nights for dinner."

"Then you'll kiss me?"

He smiled, pressing his mouth against her neck. "I'll kiss you as much as you'll let me," he promised in her ear.

"Good," she said briskly, pushing him away, making him want to laugh. "Now go." She waved him away.

"Yes, ma'am."

She wrinkled her nose, and it made him want to laugh even more.

"Go inside first. Let me hear you lock it."

The crinkles in her nose deepened. "You're bossy."

He grinned and shook his head, waiting for her to get inside safely.

She smiled at him, and his world fell off its axis. He realized then he rarely saw her smile, and he decided to make it his life's work to get her to do so more often. She went up on her toes and pecked him on the cheek before slipping inside. He waited until he heard the lock turn before making his way down the sewer toward the nearest exit.

Graham barely restrained himself from fist bumping the air like an adolescent boy after getting his first kiss. He needed to start making plans now. Chantilly hadn't given him any indication that she'd come back to Texas with him, but he was a smart enough man to know he had two months to convince her to take a chance on him. In the meantime, he needed to make sure all his paperwork was in order to leave the military and to contact a cleaning service back in Addison to get the farm ready. No way did he want to bring his new family back to a home covered in dust, especially little Mattie.

Graham was so caught up in his thoughts, he nearly missed the shadowy figure that darted into one of the tunnels ahead of him. His hand went to his firearm tucked under his jacket as he quickly neared the intersection, his boots nearly silent on the wet brick walk. This part of the tunnel was mostly unused, and he didn't like the thought of someone who didn't belong being anywhere near Chantilly's apartment. He peered around the corner, squinting his eyes to see in the dark.

The figure darted into another tunnel, but not before moonlight from a grate flashed across the person's face.

"Forrest?"

Graham removed his firearm from his holster and moved quickly to intercept. He didn't know what Forrest was up to or where he'd been since the Initiative insurrection, but Graham knew he couldn't make the same mistake of ignoring him that he had last time. Not when Chantilly and her broodlings were at stake.