Title: The Race (The Peacemaker Prophesy, pt 16)

Author: Nimue

Rating: PG-13

Feedback: Yes, please

Disclaimer: All characters belong to Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, UPN, Fox... Just Borrowing.

Summary: Buffy grieves for Spike and hopes this is not the end. Anya

finally finds Giles and gets some disturbing news. Xander races to find

Buffy, but will it be in time? Gwydion appears at Buffy's house and only Dawn is home.

The Race

Buffy's eyes fluttered open at the feel of his lips against her forehead. She had cried herself to utter exhaustion and fallen asleep curled against him. Slowly, she raised her head, afraid to look, afraid that she was back in the dream where she was so alone and so afraid and he came to her in her bed and made the world stop...hurting.

"Spike?" she whispered, finally bringing herself to look at his face. To get lost again in his eyes.

"Hello, Pet," he answered, brushing the tear-matted hair from her cheeks.

"Are you ... alive? Well, as alive as you were?"

"Seems that way, Love," he answered, his palm still pressed to her cheek.

"Do you remember anything?"

"Not very much. Poofter needs to learn proper swordsmanship," Spike

groaned, a hand over the bandage. He pushed himself up and Buffy sat next to him, trying to steady him with a hand on his back. "Still not feeling right."

"The cure... it's only temporary. We need to get you home. Willow and Tara went to find a doctor."

"The cure?" Spike asked, looking closely at her face.

"Tara made a potion for the cut. And one you had to drink,"' Buffy said, looking down at her hands.

"What was it, Pet?" Spike asked, torn between gratefulness and fear.

"Mostly blood and some herbs. Tara charged it, but she promised it was only good magic."

"I trust that it was from Glenda," Spike sputtered. "What blood?"

"Pig's blood."

Spike opened and closed his hands, feeling the fire in his veins. He looked over at Buffy, following her eyes to her hands and one neatly bandaged wrist. "Pig's blood?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

Buffy looked at him like a child caught peeking at her Christmas presents. "With a chaser," she muttered.

"Buffy, you didn't..." he asked, picking up her hand, turning her bandaged wrist in his palm.

"I had to," she said quietly. "Spike, you were almost dead. I know what Slayer blood can do."

"You shouldn't have done that, Love," he whispered, his fingers tracing the bandage on her arm. He looked at her distraught face, not wanting to hurt her anymore. "But thank you."

"I couldn't let you die," she answered, her eyes tearing again. "He almost killed you." Spike watched her face cloud with sadness like a storm rolling across the horizon. Didn't she know that she broke his heart every time she cried? He pulled her against him and stroked her hair as exhaustion and fear and hurt came out in sobs.

"S'alright, Love," he whispered," We'll set things right. Always do."

"I made him leave," she sobbed. Spike pulled her up so that they were face to face, but his arm stayed wrapped tightly around her.

"Angel?"

"I couldn't... I couldn't look at him."

"I can't say that I'm not glad that you weren't thrilled to have him round, but who's with Emma?"

"For now, Dawn and Xander. Should be safe because it's daytime. Willow and Tara should be back there soon. We'll be back before sunset if I have to carry you myself," she said, trying to smile.

"Think I'll manage," Spike commented, falling back into her eyes. "You

think it's safe?" Something was bugging him. Something about the daylight.

"Emma? Should be for now, but we need to get back," Buffy answered, her

soft palms pressing against his cheeks.

"How long, Buffy?"

"How long what?"

"How long will Tara's cure.. last?"

"I don't know," Buffy answered quietly, her hands dropping, her eyes

following. It occurred to both that this moment was happening on borrowed time.

"Was I... dead?"

"No," she answered with confidence. "But close."

"Buffy?" Spike said, sliding his hand under her chin and lifting her eyes to his. "It'll be alright. I love you. Always."

"Every day?"

"Every day," he answered, kissing the tip of her nose.

*****

The blue sedan pulled up to the curb around the corner from the Slayer's

home. No need to be obvious, even if there'd be nothing to fear by the time he sat, once again, behind the wheel. The engine clicked off and the keys jingled as he slid them into the pocket of his perfectly pressed navy blue suit.

Gwydion stepped out onto the curb, whistling to himself. An old lullaby. One his wife had sung to their children before tucking them in each night. What was it again? The name escaped him, but the tune haunted him nightly.

It was a lifetime ago. Several lifetimes.

As he walked down the sidewalk, the tune played through his mind, the breath whistling over his lips and for a moment, he was taken back. His beautiful wife. His love. Sitting on a stool between two small beds singing in her near perfect soprano to two beautiful children. Both small and blonde and sharp as whips. How far away that was? How long a journey since the night he had locked the door of his shop and taken the short cut through the alley to the florist to pick up daisies for his love? She adored daisies. He had told her millions of times that he could afford roses, but she always said daisies were more.. beautiful. Whatever she wished, he thought.

Gwydion had met his maker that night in that alley. His master.

Everything changed in the blink of an eye. In the draining of blood. In one deadly kiss. The daisies would never be delivered. His two children, now near grown, would never see him again, or hear his stories, or smell the smoke of his pipe. When he rose again, none of it mattered. Only blood and hunger and chaos.

All these years later, it still didn't matter.

He didn't even think twice about killing this child, despite the connection.

Softly, Gwydion rapped on the door.

*****

"Giles?" Anya exclaimed, finally hearing the Watcher's voice on the other end of the phone line.

"Anya, what is it?" He sounded exhausted, annoyed, nervous.

"Where are you?" Anya asked. She had left messages all over Great Britain, but he was only just now calling her back.

"To be honest, I'm in New York."

"New York?" Anya asked, momentarily forgetting the urgency of her call.

"I'm on my way there. Lay over. I have news on the Prophesy."

"What news?" Anya asked.

"Anya, I should really speak to Buffy and Spike first."

"Stupid custom," Anya snarked.

"So, was insulting my manners the reason for your..," she could hear papers rustling in the background, "twenty-seven messages?"

"No, no," she said, exasperated. "Someone came to Buffy's house wanting to see Emma. He said he was a Watcher. Something about a mark."

"The star."

"You know about it?"

"Well, yes," he answered. She could picture him wiping his glasses. The thought made her smile. "But I'm not sure how anyone else would know."

"We checked her over and didn't find a mark."

"That's because it hasn't been made yet."

"What?"

"I'll explain when I get there, Anya," Giles said, sounding more rushed by the moment.

"Wait!" she yelped into the phone.

"I'm still here." Words laced with affectionate annoyance.

"The man who came said he was working with you on the Prophesy."

Giles was completely silent. "Anya, I've been in seclusion."

"I know *that*. Hello. Twenty-seven messages."

"Seclusion implies *alone*, "Giles responded. "What was this man's name?"

Anya thought hard. "Welsh. Or English. One of those Anglo-Saxon names. What was it?" She tapped her fingers against the phone. "Gwydion!" she exclaimed in delight as the name popped into her head.

"Gwydion?"

"Yes."

"Anya, listen to me closely. Gwydion is *not* a Watcher. He never was."

"But he knows..."

"He may know quite a bit, but not from me."

"Who?"

"There is no time, Anya. I will be there tonight. Whatever you do, do

*not* let Gwydion near Emma. Nor Spike, for that matter."

"Spike?"

"Just please trust me, Anya." Giles was worried, exasperated, angry at the state of worldwide aviation.

"Giles, Spike is.."

"Spike is what?"

"He might be...dead."

"What?" the Watcher asked in shock, his fear increasing by the second.

"Buffy's gone to find him. He was stabbed last night."

"Stabbed?"

"It was an accident. Angel stabbed him in a fight. He's mortal."

"Get to the house, Anya. Get Buffy there. It's happening. Gwydion *must* not get near Emma. Do you understand?"

"Yes."

"I've got to go." The phone clicked and Anya heard only silence.

*****

Xander raced along the streets as fast as his four cylinder could go.

Leaving Dawn alone was bad enough, but hearing her sounding all the world like Buffy, channeling her sister, convinced him that Dawn might be on to something.

He wondered, as he drove, how he ended up here. The rest of them made

sense. Buffy was the Slayer, the Chosen One. Spike, as much as he hated to admit it, was destined for her. The prophesied Vampire whose love for the Slayer would change the world. Sickening thought. Tara was a witch. A very nice witch, but a fairly powerful one in her own right. Willow, his little Willow, had destroyed the town with her power and were it not for intervention, she would have destroyed the world. Even Dawn was a mystical ball of light, who, built from the Slayer's own flesh, could open the doors to the dimensions.

Even Anya. Even though she seemed to be human and he did truly, madly,

deeply love her, she had a thousand years of knowledge and experience and power on him.

What was he doing as part of this? A hanger-on to a cosmic play. The lone audience to the show that was destined to change the world.

At least he was still a part of it.

Xander skidded to a halt in front of the Magic Box, running into the shop. Anya was behind the counter, grabbing her bag and jacket and looking like she was late for a very important date.

"Ahn, what's wrong?" he asked, jogging to the counter.

"I just spoke to Giles..."

"What did he say?"

"Not to let Gwydion near Emma. That he's not a Watcher. We need to get

back to Buffy's." Anya was silent, looking at Xander. "Who's with Emma?"

"Dawn," Xander said. The panic overtook him as he bolted from the counter. "Ahn, call Dawn. Tell her not to open the door and to lock herself in with Emma. I'm going to get Buffy and hopefully Spike." Never thought I'd say that, he thought.

"But what if..."

"Anya, call her. Then go wait in the car." Anya nodded and Xander bolted down the basement steps.

*****

Dawn walked slowly down the stairs towards the door. The fairies were all over the room now and she was terrified, despite being fairly sure that they were there to help. A familiar face, any familiar face, might make it better. The knock came again as she made it to the landing.

As Dawn reached for the door, the phone began to ring. She hesitated,

wondering which was more important. The soft rap came again. The shrill ring of the phone. She decided that help in the flesh was worth more than the promise that it was coming. Softly, she reached for the knob.

"Dawn?" that familiar, soothing voice. Looking at his face again brought back that same, nagging feeling. Like looking at an echo of someone she knew.

"B...Buffy's not here," Dawn said, looking through the crack in the door.

"May I come in and wait? It's rather urgent," Gwydion said, that charming smile playing across his ruggedly handsome features.

Dawn thought for a moment, remembering how angry Buffy had been the first time. "It's really a bad time. Maybe you could come back?" she said, shyly.

Gwydion frowned. "I'm afraid, my dear, that this is a very *good* time," he said with a grunt, pushing the door open. Dawn reeled back into the stairway, falling with a thud onto the bottom step. "And since you have already once invited me in..."

"You... you're a... you're the vamp..." Dawn stuttered.

"I would've thought you'd have come to terms with the idea of Vampires that walk in the daylight, " Gwydion taunted in his smooth London accent.

"Why...?"

"Oh, do relax, little girl. I've come for the child. Mind yourself and

stay out of my way and I won't kill you," he said, shutting the door behind him and grabbing Dawn by the arm, hoisting her to her feet.

"Leave.Emma.Alone," Dawn commanded, her fear overcome by the love of her

niece.

Gwydion laughed. "Or what?" he snarked. Dawn kicked the Vampire in the

shins and ran into the living room, grabbing the vase from the end table and hurling it at him, catching him square on the shoulder. Gwydion looked shocked for a moment, then chuckled as Dawn raced for the weapons chest, tossing the wooden top open in a panicked rage.

"Ah, ah, ah," Gwydion scolded, appearing behind the girl with lightening

quickness. "I told you that, if you were good, I would not kill you. Why are you testing me?" He grabbed her by the back of her neck and pulled her from the chest, hurling her against the wall. Dawn's head cracked as she hit and her world began to spin. "Looks like you are a bit more feisty than I had given you credit for. Good for you. Maybe I can even find use for you, but for now," he continued, picking up her crumpled, dazed form and propping her in a chair, "I'll just have to tie you up and think about whether or not you are more useful to me as a Vampire or just.. dead."

Gwydion grabbed a rope from the chest and began to bind the girl to the

chair. The phone shrilly rang again. Dawn struggled to move and felt a

thud. The world faded to black.

To be contd.