Still Bound, Chapter 16 (Last chapter of this series)
Following Spike's dismissal from Sunnydale a lot of shit goes down.
A million, million thanks to Zyrya, who put in so much time working with me on this fic. Thanks to her I finally know how many dots go in an ellipse and where the spaces go. Also, learned not to go for the easy, tired similes or hackneyed expressions but to attempt fresh comparisons and word combinations.
***********
"Smash his orbs!" Jonathan's squeaky voice stage-whispered in her ear. He was clinging to her back like a baby opossum as Buffy struggled to simultaneously unlatch his clutching fingers from her shoulders, straighten her hat which had been knocked over one eye and check on the location of her real threat, Warren.
"Huh? Get off, you annoying ...." She twisted in his grip and reached back to deliver a none too gentle slap but he stuck tight.
"Ow!" he yelped and began pummeling her head with one fist.
Buffy wanted to laugh at the ludicrous image they must present, Buff- biscuit and her diminutive jockey. As a matter of fact, this whole battle with super-charged Warren and his pals was beyond ridiculous and into the realm of surreal. Buffy wondered for a moment if she was under yet another delusional spell courtesy of the Trio. Perhaps she was inhabiting Warren's perfect dream world.
Anything seemed possible after the time shifting, mind bending, world changing hell these guys had put her through last week. She shuddered to think what would have happened to her friends and sister if Tara hadn't intervened.
Buffy finally shook herself like a dog shedding water and Jonathan flew off and landed in a heap. Looking up, Buffy saw that Warren had been watching the show with amusement and was more than ready for her next attack.
"Nice try, little pill bug," Warren commended Jonathan. "If you're finished now, why don't you let the big guns handle it." He gave a clumsy high kick, which Buffy easily deflected. Warren's new super strength didn't come with super skill.
Buffy ducked under Warren's arm as he swung recklessly at her face. She tucked and rolled then straightened and turned to deliver a glancing blow to his side. Warren swiveled around with an angry roar and another punch that connected this time. Buffy's head snapped back on her neck and she fell on her back, gasping for breath as the wind was knocked out of her.
'Wish Spike was here,' the little voice in the back of her mind, which had been chanting that refrain for four weeks, started up again. 'I need back up.' She rolled again, to the side this time, and Warren's heavy boot whistled past her ear. Buffy curled into a protective ball around her precious stomach as he aimed another kick that sharply stabbed her kidneys. Buffy gasped and cried out. Her eyes watered at the intense pain.
"Warren!" Jonathan admonished. "Just leave her. We've got what we came for. Let's take the money and go."
"Gotta let her know who's the new overlord of Sunnydale, sport," Warren crowed, as he kicked her again.
Buffy caught the offending foot in both hands and twisted. Warren let out a surprised cry as he was thrown off balance and landed on the ground next to her. Through the haze of tears clouding her eyes, Buffy saw a pouch attached to his belt.
'That's important,' a dispassionate interior voice informed her. 'Those aren't marbles he's carrying.'
She snatched the pouch from his belt and smashed it against the ground under her hand.
"Noooo!!!" Warren howled, and Buffy could have sworn she actually felt the heat of energy drain from him and whoosh back to the crumbled fragments beneath her fist.
Scrambling to his feet, Warren tossed off his coat revealing a pair of rockets strapped to his back.
"This isn't over yet, Slayer!" he warned. "You'll pay for this ... Whoa!" He let out an undignified yell as the jet pack ignited and sent him hurtling skyward.
Buffy sat up stiffly, rubbing at her aching lower back and staring at Warren as he rose into the night. "You have got to be kidding!" she exclaimed.
The third guy, Tucker's brother, took the opportunity to shed his jacket and reveal his own jet pack.
"Hey! Why didn't I get one of those?" Jonathan wailed.
"Till we meet again, Slayer. This round to you, but the game is far from over." He pressed a button or flipped a switch and the jets fired up. Throwing back his head to deliver a classic evil villain laugh, the kid rose upward and straight into the metal roof above him. He was slapped back down to earth in a humiliating huddle.
"Don't even think of running," Buffy cautioned Jonathan, whose gaze was darting from her to his downed cohort to the open road leading out of the amusement park. "I will hunt you down like a dog."
"O-okay," he answered shakily, raising his hands tentatively above his head.
"I think I need an ambulance," the third member of the trio moaned, rolling from side to side.
Buffy dragged herself to her feet.
***********
By the time the cops had arrived and taken her statement and custody of the two criminals, Buffy was shivering from exhaustion and cold. She climbed gratefully into Xander's warm car and collapsed across the back seat.
"If I have to explain my coincidental appearance at one more crime scene...." She was too tired to think of anything clever to finish her thought.
"Jeez, Buff, you're so pale!" Xander fussed as he slid behind the steering wheel and looked over his shoulder at her. "Maybe we should stop by the emergency room and...."
"I'm fine," she said firmly. "Really. Just get me home and let me crawl into bed."
"All right," he replied, sounding unconvinced but used to following orders.
The engine started with a clink and a roar and they sped away.
"Xander."
"Yeah?"
"Thanks for coming out to get me."
"I live to serve, mon capitain."
"I'm glad," she murmured sleepily.
*********
Late the following afternoon, Buffy and Xander sat in the Summers' garden, a rare pastoral experience for a night dweller like Buffy. The golden rays of sun gilded the plants and turned the pollen and dust in the air to shimmering confetti. An occasional shriek of laughter floated from the open upstairs window where Willow and Tara were getting dressed for an evening out.
Buffy sighed in contentment and shifted in her chair, trying to find a more comfortable position. Her lower back was sending out some serious twinges that wrapped around her abdomen in a mantle of ache. She smoothed a hand over the taut fabric of her shirt where it molded to the round bulge of her stomach, then gave the bulge a little pat for good measure.
"You okay?" Xander asked for the fifth time, rolling his empty bottle of beer back and forth between his palms. He was leaning forward, forearms resting on his knees, gazing at the broken shards of garden gnome that Dawn hadn't cleaned up yet despite repeated reminders.
"Fine. Stop worrying. Super Slayer healing, remember?"
Xander nodded. "Are you going to get another one?" he asked, pointing at the dismembered gnome. "'Cause I gotta tell you, those things creep me out."
"God no. That was never ours to begin with. I don't know how we never noticed it all this time." She shuddered. "And if it wasn't for Anya finding the camera in the skull at the Magic Box, his dirty little gnome eyes would still be watching us."
"You know," Xander mused. "I think I met Warren once ... before in high school. I was in a comic book club for a while and I think he came once or twice. Weird, huh? How people can come into your life and you never know how important they'll end up being. I mean, you could pass a stranger on the street, nod 'hello', and maybe your lives will never come in contact again, but maybe through some chain of events that person will turn out to be one of the most important people you ever met. Maybe they're the emergency room doctor that later saves your life or the girl you end up marrying or, in this case, the evil nerd who tries to kill you."
"Yep. Life's funny like that," Buffy replied absently. But she thought of her first encounter with the skinny, intense, practically albino vampire who had promised to kill her on Saturday and how she never could have imagined how many ways he would work his way under her skin.
"I miss Spike," she sighed, and then bit her tongue as she realized she'd actually given voice to the thought.
"What?" Xander sat up straight, bottle dangling from one finger inserted in the neck. His eyes widened.
"What?" Buffy repeated inanely, eyes also widening. "I mean, Dawn. Dawn misses Spike, and it's making her cranky so I wish, uh, wish Spike was still around. You know, to train with her and all that. He really was doing a good job teaching her to fight."
"Look, Buffy, I know you have a soft spot for the guy, what with his little chip handicap and all, but after the stunt he pulled with the Suvolte demons, I don't know how you could cut him any slack. You just let him leave town to wreak whatever havoc he can whip up on an unsuspecting world. He's not as harmless as you like to think."
"I know," she agreed. "I know he can still cause a lot of damage, but I feel like underneath it all he's ...." she paused, at a loss.
"A soulless killer?" Xander supplied. "How can you forget how he tried to help Adam by turning us against each other? And now this 'supplier to the underworld' bit. Buffy, you should have finished him."
"I just ... just couldn't," she said, still searching for words. "There's something there. I think ... I mean, I feel, that there's something worthwhile there."
"Why? What makes him any different than any of the other vampires you've dusted over the past six years? He doesn't have a soul. He's no Angel." After all this time, Xander still spat the name 'Angel' like it was broken glass.
"No, that he isn't," Buffy actually smiled as certain comparisons between the two flashed in her mind. "Nothing like."
"So what?" Xander sounded completely nonplussed. Then, light dawning, he added, "Wait a minute. This doesn't have anything to do with Willow's spell from last year. You don't ... don't have feelings for the guy?"
"No. Of course not," Buffy's smile disappeared and she sat up straighter and said briskly. "It doesn't matter anyway. He's gone now and not coming back." Changing the subject, she focused on Xander's face. "So ... how's this 'just dating' thing with Anya going? Isn't it hard to return to no physical contact after ... well, you know?"
Xander grinned and examined the label on his beer bottle. "Well, I wouldn't say there was absolutely no physical contact ...."
A sharp crack split the air as someone's car backfired. Xander's head automatically jerked up at the sound and his eyes met Buffy's puzzled ones looking over his shoulder.
"You think you can just do that to me? You think I'd let you get away with that? Think again!"
Xander swung around to face the rabidly ranting figure standing at the street, waving his arm and clutching a gun. Another loud report and Xander actually felt the bullet whizz past him, heard Buffy's quiet, surprised cry, saw Warren turn and run. But it was all so dreamlike and slow-moving that he couldn't react.
"Wha...?" he asked muzzily, as he turned back toward Buffy. She had half risen from her chair and the impact of the bullet had propelled her backward to hit the chair with the backs of her knees and then crumple to the ground.
"Buffy!" he screamed.
*************
Buffy and Dawn entered the house, still laughing and mimicking Sean Connery's accent. The movie had been pretty much a bust, but the sarcasm value alone made it worthwhile. Tossing her purse on the hall table, Buffy felt Dawn's sharp elbow poke her ribs. She looked up and saw her sister, a finger to her lips, pointing toward the living room where their would-be babysitter was sprawled on the couch fast asleep.
Spike, barefoot and wearing only his jeans, was lying with one arm thrown up beside his head, the other firmly holding on to Baby Jack, who was sleeping on his chest. The diaper-clad infant was breathing with his rosebud lips parted and drool puddling on Spike's ivory skin. The baby's fuzzy hair stuck up in sweaty tendrils and his skin was flushed red. It looked like the little guy had been crying for a good long while. One tiny fist clenched and unclenched and a frown passed over his smooth, round face.
"Looks like someone was cranky. Poor Spike!" Dawn whispered, smiling sympathetically.
Buffy walked into the living room for a better look at her darling child and brave boyfriend.
Spike looked thoroughly exhausted. His hair had escaped its gel shellac and like Jack's was curling in wild tendrils; dark lashes rested against pale cheeks and dark brows were slightly knit. He patted the baby with the hand that held him in place against his naked chest and murmured, "Ssshhh. Sh now, love."
Buffy smiled and reached out to brush a finger over Jack's soft, soft head. He stirred again and whimpered, made sucking motions with his mouth then inserted two of his chubby fingers and began to nurse on them with loud smacking noises.
Remembering her mother's admonition, "Let dogs and sleeping babies lie!" Buffy smoothed her hand once more over the little head, then moved on to brush her fingers lightly along Spike's jaw. His eyes fluttered open and regarded her blankly for a second, then were suffused with that adoring, unbelieving, worshipful gaze she'd come to depend on. His lips quirked and he rumbled low, "Have a nice time, pet? Hope you appreciated it 'cause it's never going to happen again. Your rugrat is a royal pain in the ass ... just like his mum."
Buffy's smile stretched even wider. "We love you, too, Spike."
"No you don't. You just want a sitter for free," he teased. But at her words his face lit with a transcendent glow. He and the baby were suffused in warm golden light that grew steadily brighter and brighter.
Buffy's smile disappeared. She reached a hand out toward them. "Wait! Don't ...."
The light turned to flame so hot it pushed Buffy back. Spike continued to beam at her. Jack continued to sleep, as they were consumed by the fire.
"No! Not yet! Don't ... don't leave me!" she screamed, fighting against the waves of heat that held her back. She pushed against air thick and resistant as molten lava, attempting to reach them, but they were already bursting apart in a cloud of ash.
Buffy woke with a cry to darkness, an unfamiliar room, the smell of antiseptic, a hospital bed. She looked around frantically trying to place herself, to remember what had happened. Her hand automatically reached down to caress her belly and ensure her baby's safety. Her stomach was flat, the familiar mound gone.
She tried to sit up and pain pulled at her midsection and seared through her shoulder. She fell back with a gasp, clutching at the hospital gown.
"Buffy, it's okay. I'm here!" Dawn bolted up from a chair near the bed, rushed to her side and took her hand, gripping it tightly. "You were shot," Dawn explained, stroking her hand soothingly. "Warren. He came after you."
"I was with .... What happened to Xander?" Buffy managed to croak. "Is he all right?"
"Y-yes. Xander's all right," Dawn's voice sounded funny and Buffy looked at her sharply.
"But ...?"
"Nothing. Don't worry. Everything's going to be okay. Do you want some water? I'll get you some water," Dawn continued, not meeting her eyes.
"What?" Buffy demanded flatly. "What's happened."
"I can't," Dawn dithered. "Xander said you should rest. He wouldn't leave until he found out you were going to be okay, then he told me to keep you quiet when you woke up, that he would take care of it."
"Tell me!"
"But you've lost the baby, Buffy! And they had to dig a bullet out of your shoulder! You've got to promise to lie there and get better and not go all Slayer on me if I tell you."
"Dawn, I will go all Slayer on you if you don't open your mouth and spill right now," Buffy might have sounded more menacing if she weren't paper white and trembling.
Searching her sister's eyes, Dawn nodded as if coming to a decision. She began to relate what had happened while Buffy was unconscious.
As Dawn's words rushed over her like water, Buffy felt herself slipping in and out of the stream. It was hard to focus, harder still to care. Continuously smoothing her hand over her flat stomach, she listened in dreamy disconnection.
"So Anya said Willow just sucked all that dark magic up into her, drained all the books dry, then walked right back out again," Dawn explained, sounding far away and tinny to Buffy's ears. " ... called Xander on his cell and found out about the shooting."
Buffy wondered if things would have been different if she'd paid attention to Willow's growing power sooner. Maybe listening and discussing instead of lecturing and giving ultimatums after that incident with Dawn and the boils .... She sighed and shifted, trying to find a comfortable position, one in which her shoulder didn't feel like it was being skewered by hot pokers.
" ... knew about Tara yet. I came home and found her there in the bedroom," Dawn's voice broke. When she spoke again it was thick with unshed tears. "Buffy, she looked like Tara but ... but not, you know? The thing that made her Tara was just ... gone. She looked," Dawn paused to consider, "broken."
Eyes dry as sand, Buffy clutched her sister's hand tighter and made appropriate comforting noises. She felt she ought to scream and cry and curse the injustice of Tara's death but couldn't even summon up the energy to believe in it.
Dawn sniffed and roughly rubbed her other hand across her eyes. " ... called 911 ... then Xander ... police gave me a ride ...."
Buffy wondered mildly if she were about to pass out. Dawn's narrative seemed to be coming and going like cable TV on a windy day. Buffy couldn't remember how she was supposed to respond. Was this a serious or humorous story? Was she expected to smile and nod or frown and shake her head?
" ... until you were out of surgery, then he went after Willow."
There was a pause in the flow and Buffy knew it was her turn to say something. What was it?
"How long ago?" she asked hollowly.
"Over an hour ... so angry ... Xander can handle...."
Would that anxious, irritatingly loud voice never stop? Buffy closed her hot eyes and imagined that she was floating in a cool swimming pool, cradled by water, hair fanning out around her head, with nothing more important to decide than rather to continue floating or swim laps.
Her attention snagged on a hard buoy, and what was a buoy doing in her swimming pool?
" ... hope he doesn't get to her in time. I hope she flays Warren alive for what he did!" Dawn's ferocity pierced her aquatic bubble.
Buffy's eyes opened and she tried to pull her thoughts together.
"No," she said. "Don't ...."
"Why not?" Dawn snapped. "I hate him! Hate him!"
"And he should be punished." Buffy marveled at her ability to form words that actually made sense. "But not by Willow. Think of what it would do to her to ... to kill someone when she's out of her head like this."
"Then I wish Spike were here. He'd find a way to take care of Warren like he did Ben," Dawn continued with terrier tenacity.
Buffy decided a teenager with a vendetta was scarier than a Sicilian mafioso.
"And Spike would still be here if ...." Dawn's angry voice trailed off but the meaning was clear.
Buffy sighed and closed her eyes again. Maybe Dawn was right. At this moment it would be so easy to surrender things into Spike's capable hands. Let the soulless being plow through the morass of questionable ethics and cut to the heart of the problem. But it would ...
" ... be wrong, Dawn," Buffy murmured. "Human laws ...." She trailed off.
"God, you're really out of it!" Dawn sounded taken aback. "You'd better get some sleep."
"No." Buffy struggled to sit up. "I have to go. Have to help."
"No you don't. Let Xander handle this one," Dawn commanded with steely defiance, pushing her gently back onto the bed. "You're in no shape and, believe it or not, you aren't the only one who can fix things."
Buffy relaxed despite herself and gratefully accepted the glass of water Dawn held to her lips. She drank it down then allowed her sister to tuck the covers firmly around her.
"It'll all be okay, Buffy. You'll see," Dawn whispered, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "We'll all be fine ...."
Her voice faded away and the light faded away and Buffy was floating in blessed, codeine induced darkness.
**********
"Hello, love. What are you doing here?" a rumbling voice came from the shadows on her left.
"Where's here?" she asked, trying to make out shapes in the pitch black.
"Cave," he replied. "Dark, isn't it?"
"Yes. I can't see you." Buffy held out a blind hand. "Why are we here?"
"Don't know about you, but I'm waiting for my boon," he answered.
"Your which?"
"Never mind," he chuckled. She felt a hand slip into hers, strong fingers lace through her own. "Come wait with me?" he asked.
It was quiet and cool there so she sat on the hard stone floor with him and waited.
***********
"Mama, nooooo! I hate those socks!" Jack shrieked at glass-shattering pitch. "I won't wear 'em! You can't make me!" His face was bright red and tear streaked as he thrashed around, kicking his stubby little legs.
"Honey, you've got to get your shoes on. We're going to be late," Buffy pleaded, gripping his ankle firmly and cramming on an offensive sock. She hated herself for doing it but was reduced to resorting to bribery. "We'll stop at McDonald's later. How about that?"
A brilliant smile broke through the clouds. "Can I get a Happy Meal? They got Scooby Doo. I seen it on the commercial."
"Sure," Buffy agreed, then held up an admonishing finger. "But only if Aunt Willow says you're good for her the whole time you're there. And that means no arguing, no yelling and NO chasing Miss Kitty this time."
Jack was wide-eyed and astonished. "I never chased Kitty! I love her! I was just tryin' to pet her."
"Okay, kiddo. Let's roll," Buffy lifted her recalcitrant toddler and swung him through the air. He shrieked with pleasure. Buffy considered that the mood swings of a pre-schooler rivaled severe PMS.
As they walked out the door her precious whirlwind wrapped his arms around her neck and gave her a fierce hug. "I love you, mama. Sorry 'bout the socks."
"Love you too." She smiled and gave him a big smooch on the mouth.
"Ew, ma," he groaned, scrubbing at his lips with one grubby hand.
Buffy growled, tossed him over her shoulder and carried him upside down and laughing all the way to the car.
***********
"I love you," she whispered. "You know that, right?"
"Not particularly," Spike answered gruffly. "Hasn't been glaringly obvious up to now."
"Well, I do." She fell silent, thinking. "And not just because of what we do in bed. It's ...."
He waited patiently. It wasn't often that Buffy put her feelings into words and he wasn't about to derail her thoughts by making some smart-ass comment.
"The way you listen to me ... and tell me the truth about things even when I don't want to hear. It drives me crazy but I need it."
"Mm," he gave a non-committal grunt.
She snuggled in closer, squeezing him in her powerful arms and nuzzling her face against his chest. "Want more?" she teased.
"Yeah," he answered softly.
"I love the way you're so thoughtful and sweet under that stupid Big Bad exterior. I love knowing that, if I let you, you'd pamper me like a princess, but at the same time you'd push me to be as tough a fighter as I need to be. It's a rare thing, for a man to love a woman's strength."
"That it is. Angel couldn't do it," he was quick to point out.
"No," she agreed, smiling at his insecurity. "Angel likes being in charge too much."
"So ...." he drew the word out with a sibilant hiss, "You got anything in particular you want to command me to do? Ready and willing here."
"Not just now," Buffy said with a laugh. "I think we've done enough damage for a while. I'm happy just cuddling like this, aren't you?"
"It's more than I ever imagined," he answered solemnly. "You sure you're not under another of Willow's spells?"
"Uh-uh. This time it's for real."
**********
Buffy listened at Jack's half open bedroom door to the murmur of voices inside: Jack's, plaintive and tear-soaked; Spike's, rumbly and soothing.
In a moment they stopped and she stepped away so that Spike could exit the door.
"Well?" she asked as he pulled it closed behind him. "Did you find out what happened?"
He took her arm and led her down the hall to their bedroom.
"He's quite a fighter, our Jack," Spike said proudly, closing the door behind him and gathering Buffy into his arms.
"And did you remember to tell him it's wrong to hit? That there's not any excuse for getting into a brawl on the playground?" She pushed against his chest and gave him a glare. "You were supposed to set him straight!"
"Look, pet, young Jack set a bully in his place good and proper. There's no harm in that. From what I understand this Fury kid's been harassing all and sundry ever since first grade."
"He could've gone to a playground monitor or .."
"Be a tell tale?" Spike sneered. "Come Buffy, what kind of ponce would you turn our boy into? He was protecting a weaker lad and I'm right proud of him. I won't tell him otherwise."
Buffy sighed and relaxed a little into his enfolding embrace. "Big bully, huh? How big?"
"Twice Jack's size to hear him tell it. And he got in some good licks before they pulled him off."
Against her will, Buffy smiled. "My god, I'm raising a little hellion," she said, resting her head on Spike's chest.
"That's the Summers blood in him," he murmured, kissing the top of her head. "Runs hot, doesn't it?"
"Hot enough to warm the undead," she teased, pulling away and giving him a lascivious smirk. "Want to find out?" She took his hand and pulled him to their bed.
*******
In her sleep, Buffy smiled and turned and dreamed and dreamed ..
The End
Don't be sad. There's still a world where Buffy and Spike can be together and be happy. We just haven't reached it yet. I want to write an alternate season 7 (preferably without SITs) but it will take a lot of mapping out and I need a long, long, LONG break from writing for now. When it's ready, my muse will come back in full force and stuff will pour forth, but it's currently in hibernation.
Following Spike's dismissal from Sunnydale a lot of shit goes down.
A million, million thanks to Zyrya, who put in so much time working with me on this fic. Thanks to her I finally know how many dots go in an ellipse and where the spaces go. Also, learned not to go for the easy, tired similes or hackneyed expressions but to attempt fresh comparisons and word combinations.
***********
"Smash his orbs!" Jonathan's squeaky voice stage-whispered in her ear. He was clinging to her back like a baby opossum as Buffy struggled to simultaneously unlatch his clutching fingers from her shoulders, straighten her hat which had been knocked over one eye and check on the location of her real threat, Warren.
"Huh? Get off, you annoying ...." She twisted in his grip and reached back to deliver a none too gentle slap but he stuck tight.
"Ow!" he yelped and began pummeling her head with one fist.
Buffy wanted to laugh at the ludicrous image they must present, Buff- biscuit and her diminutive jockey. As a matter of fact, this whole battle with super-charged Warren and his pals was beyond ridiculous and into the realm of surreal. Buffy wondered for a moment if she was under yet another delusional spell courtesy of the Trio. Perhaps she was inhabiting Warren's perfect dream world.
Anything seemed possible after the time shifting, mind bending, world changing hell these guys had put her through last week. She shuddered to think what would have happened to her friends and sister if Tara hadn't intervened.
Buffy finally shook herself like a dog shedding water and Jonathan flew off and landed in a heap. Looking up, Buffy saw that Warren had been watching the show with amusement and was more than ready for her next attack.
"Nice try, little pill bug," Warren commended Jonathan. "If you're finished now, why don't you let the big guns handle it." He gave a clumsy high kick, which Buffy easily deflected. Warren's new super strength didn't come with super skill.
Buffy ducked under Warren's arm as he swung recklessly at her face. She tucked and rolled then straightened and turned to deliver a glancing blow to his side. Warren swiveled around with an angry roar and another punch that connected this time. Buffy's head snapped back on her neck and she fell on her back, gasping for breath as the wind was knocked out of her.
'Wish Spike was here,' the little voice in the back of her mind, which had been chanting that refrain for four weeks, started up again. 'I need back up.' She rolled again, to the side this time, and Warren's heavy boot whistled past her ear. Buffy curled into a protective ball around her precious stomach as he aimed another kick that sharply stabbed her kidneys. Buffy gasped and cried out. Her eyes watered at the intense pain.
"Warren!" Jonathan admonished. "Just leave her. We've got what we came for. Let's take the money and go."
"Gotta let her know who's the new overlord of Sunnydale, sport," Warren crowed, as he kicked her again.
Buffy caught the offending foot in both hands and twisted. Warren let out a surprised cry as he was thrown off balance and landed on the ground next to her. Through the haze of tears clouding her eyes, Buffy saw a pouch attached to his belt.
'That's important,' a dispassionate interior voice informed her. 'Those aren't marbles he's carrying.'
She snatched the pouch from his belt and smashed it against the ground under her hand.
"Noooo!!!" Warren howled, and Buffy could have sworn she actually felt the heat of energy drain from him and whoosh back to the crumbled fragments beneath her fist.
Scrambling to his feet, Warren tossed off his coat revealing a pair of rockets strapped to his back.
"This isn't over yet, Slayer!" he warned. "You'll pay for this ... Whoa!" He let out an undignified yell as the jet pack ignited and sent him hurtling skyward.
Buffy sat up stiffly, rubbing at her aching lower back and staring at Warren as he rose into the night. "You have got to be kidding!" she exclaimed.
The third guy, Tucker's brother, took the opportunity to shed his jacket and reveal his own jet pack.
"Hey! Why didn't I get one of those?" Jonathan wailed.
"Till we meet again, Slayer. This round to you, but the game is far from over." He pressed a button or flipped a switch and the jets fired up. Throwing back his head to deliver a classic evil villain laugh, the kid rose upward and straight into the metal roof above him. He was slapped back down to earth in a humiliating huddle.
"Don't even think of running," Buffy cautioned Jonathan, whose gaze was darting from her to his downed cohort to the open road leading out of the amusement park. "I will hunt you down like a dog."
"O-okay," he answered shakily, raising his hands tentatively above his head.
"I think I need an ambulance," the third member of the trio moaned, rolling from side to side.
Buffy dragged herself to her feet.
***********
By the time the cops had arrived and taken her statement and custody of the two criminals, Buffy was shivering from exhaustion and cold. She climbed gratefully into Xander's warm car and collapsed across the back seat.
"If I have to explain my coincidental appearance at one more crime scene...." She was too tired to think of anything clever to finish her thought.
"Jeez, Buff, you're so pale!" Xander fussed as he slid behind the steering wheel and looked over his shoulder at her. "Maybe we should stop by the emergency room and...."
"I'm fine," she said firmly. "Really. Just get me home and let me crawl into bed."
"All right," he replied, sounding unconvinced but used to following orders.
The engine started with a clink and a roar and they sped away.
"Xander."
"Yeah?"
"Thanks for coming out to get me."
"I live to serve, mon capitain."
"I'm glad," she murmured sleepily.
*********
Late the following afternoon, Buffy and Xander sat in the Summers' garden, a rare pastoral experience for a night dweller like Buffy. The golden rays of sun gilded the plants and turned the pollen and dust in the air to shimmering confetti. An occasional shriek of laughter floated from the open upstairs window where Willow and Tara were getting dressed for an evening out.
Buffy sighed in contentment and shifted in her chair, trying to find a more comfortable position. Her lower back was sending out some serious twinges that wrapped around her abdomen in a mantle of ache. She smoothed a hand over the taut fabric of her shirt where it molded to the round bulge of her stomach, then gave the bulge a little pat for good measure.
"You okay?" Xander asked for the fifth time, rolling his empty bottle of beer back and forth between his palms. He was leaning forward, forearms resting on his knees, gazing at the broken shards of garden gnome that Dawn hadn't cleaned up yet despite repeated reminders.
"Fine. Stop worrying. Super Slayer healing, remember?"
Xander nodded. "Are you going to get another one?" he asked, pointing at the dismembered gnome. "'Cause I gotta tell you, those things creep me out."
"God no. That was never ours to begin with. I don't know how we never noticed it all this time." She shuddered. "And if it wasn't for Anya finding the camera in the skull at the Magic Box, his dirty little gnome eyes would still be watching us."
"You know," Xander mused. "I think I met Warren once ... before in high school. I was in a comic book club for a while and I think he came once or twice. Weird, huh? How people can come into your life and you never know how important they'll end up being. I mean, you could pass a stranger on the street, nod 'hello', and maybe your lives will never come in contact again, but maybe through some chain of events that person will turn out to be one of the most important people you ever met. Maybe they're the emergency room doctor that later saves your life or the girl you end up marrying or, in this case, the evil nerd who tries to kill you."
"Yep. Life's funny like that," Buffy replied absently. But she thought of her first encounter with the skinny, intense, practically albino vampire who had promised to kill her on Saturday and how she never could have imagined how many ways he would work his way under her skin.
"I miss Spike," she sighed, and then bit her tongue as she realized she'd actually given voice to the thought.
"What?" Xander sat up straight, bottle dangling from one finger inserted in the neck. His eyes widened.
"What?" Buffy repeated inanely, eyes also widening. "I mean, Dawn. Dawn misses Spike, and it's making her cranky so I wish, uh, wish Spike was still around. You know, to train with her and all that. He really was doing a good job teaching her to fight."
"Look, Buffy, I know you have a soft spot for the guy, what with his little chip handicap and all, but after the stunt he pulled with the Suvolte demons, I don't know how you could cut him any slack. You just let him leave town to wreak whatever havoc he can whip up on an unsuspecting world. He's not as harmless as you like to think."
"I know," she agreed. "I know he can still cause a lot of damage, but I feel like underneath it all he's ...." she paused, at a loss.
"A soulless killer?" Xander supplied. "How can you forget how he tried to help Adam by turning us against each other? And now this 'supplier to the underworld' bit. Buffy, you should have finished him."
"I just ... just couldn't," she said, still searching for words. "There's something there. I think ... I mean, I feel, that there's something worthwhile there."
"Why? What makes him any different than any of the other vampires you've dusted over the past six years? He doesn't have a soul. He's no Angel." After all this time, Xander still spat the name 'Angel' like it was broken glass.
"No, that he isn't," Buffy actually smiled as certain comparisons between the two flashed in her mind. "Nothing like."
"So what?" Xander sounded completely nonplussed. Then, light dawning, he added, "Wait a minute. This doesn't have anything to do with Willow's spell from last year. You don't ... don't have feelings for the guy?"
"No. Of course not," Buffy's smile disappeared and she sat up straighter and said briskly. "It doesn't matter anyway. He's gone now and not coming back." Changing the subject, she focused on Xander's face. "So ... how's this 'just dating' thing with Anya going? Isn't it hard to return to no physical contact after ... well, you know?"
Xander grinned and examined the label on his beer bottle. "Well, I wouldn't say there was absolutely no physical contact ...."
A sharp crack split the air as someone's car backfired. Xander's head automatically jerked up at the sound and his eyes met Buffy's puzzled ones looking over his shoulder.
"You think you can just do that to me? You think I'd let you get away with that? Think again!"
Xander swung around to face the rabidly ranting figure standing at the street, waving his arm and clutching a gun. Another loud report and Xander actually felt the bullet whizz past him, heard Buffy's quiet, surprised cry, saw Warren turn and run. But it was all so dreamlike and slow-moving that he couldn't react.
"Wha...?" he asked muzzily, as he turned back toward Buffy. She had half risen from her chair and the impact of the bullet had propelled her backward to hit the chair with the backs of her knees and then crumple to the ground.
"Buffy!" he screamed.
*************
Buffy and Dawn entered the house, still laughing and mimicking Sean Connery's accent. The movie had been pretty much a bust, but the sarcasm value alone made it worthwhile. Tossing her purse on the hall table, Buffy felt Dawn's sharp elbow poke her ribs. She looked up and saw her sister, a finger to her lips, pointing toward the living room where their would-be babysitter was sprawled on the couch fast asleep.
Spike, barefoot and wearing only his jeans, was lying with one arm thrown up beside his head, the other firmly holding on to Baby Jack, who was sleeping on his chest. The diaper-clad infant was breathing with his rosebud lips parted and drool puddling on Spike's ivory skin. The baby's fuzzy hair stuck up in sweaty tendrils and his skin was flushed red. It looked like the little guy had been crying for a good long while. One tiny fist clenched and unclenched and a frown passed over his smooth, round face.
"Looks like someone was cranky. Poor Spike!" Dawn whispered, smiling sympathetically.
Buffy walked into the living room for a better look at her darling child and brave boyfriend.
Spike looked thoroughly exhausted. His hair had escaped its gel shellac and like Jack's was curling in wild tendrils; dark lashes rested against pale cheeks and dark brows were slightly knit. He patted the baby with the hand that held him in place against his naked chest and murmured, "Ssshhh. Sh now, love."
Buffy smiled and reached out to brush a finger over Jack's soft, soft head. He stirred again and whimpered, made sucking motions with his mouth then inserted two of his chubby fingers and began to nurse on them with loud smacking noises.
Remembering her mother's admonition, "Let dogs and sleeping babies lie!" Buffy smoothed her hand once more over the little head, then moved on to brush her fingers lightly along Spike's jaw. His eyes fluttered open and regarded her blankly for a second, then were suffused with that adoring, unbelieving, worshipful gaze she'd come to depend on. His lips quirked and he rumbled low, "Have a nice time, pet? Hope you appreciated it 'cause it's never going to happen again. Your rugrat is a royal pain in the ass ... just like his mum."
Buffy's smile stretched even wider. "We love you, too, Spike."
"No you don't. You just want a sitter for free," he teased. But at her words his face lit with a transcendent glow. He and the baby were suffused in warm golden light that grew steadily brighter and brighter.
Buffy's smile disappeared. She reached a hand out toward them. "Wait! Don't ...."
The light turned to flame so hot it pushed Buffy back. Spike continued to beam at her. Jack continued to sleep, as they were consumed by the fire.
"No! Not yet! Don't ... don't leave me!" she screamed, fighting against the waves of heat that held her back. She pushed against air thick and resistant as molten lava, attempting to reach them, but they were already bursting apart in a cloud of ash.
Buffy woke with a cry to darkness, an unfamiliar room, the smell of antiseptic, a hospital bed. She looked around frantically trying to place herself, to remember what had happened. Her hand automatically reached down to caress her belly and ensure her baby's safety. Her stomach was flat, the familiar mound gone.
She tried to sit up and pain pulled at her midsection and seared through her shoulder. She fell back with a gasp, clutching at the hospital gown.
"Buffy, it's okay. I'm here!" Dawn bolted up from a chair near the bed, rushed to her side and took her hand, gripping it tightly. "You were shot," Dawn explained, stroking her hand soothingly. "Warren. He came after you."
"I was with .... What happened to Xander?" Buffy managed to croak. "Is he all right?"
"Y-yes. Xander's all right," Dawn's voice sounded funny and Buffy looked at her sharply.
"But ...?"
"Nothing. Don't worry. Everything's going to be okay. Do you want some water? I'll get you some water," Dawn continued, not meeting her eyes.
"What?" Buffy demanded flatly. "What's happened."
"I can't," Dawn dithered. "Xander said you should rest. He wouldn't leave until he found out you were going to be okay, then he told me to keep you quiet when you woke up, that he would take care of it."
"Tell me!"
"But you've lost the baby, Buffy! And they had to dig a bullet out of your shoulder! You've got to promise to lie there and get better and not go all Slayer on me if I tell you."
"Dawn, I will go all Slayer on you if you don't open your mouth and spill right now," Buffy might have sounded more menacing if she weren't paper white and trembling.
Searching her sister's eyes, Dawn nodded as if coming to a decision. She began to relate what had happened while Buffy was unconscious.
As Dawn's words rushed over her like water, Buffy felt herself slipping in and out of the stream. It was hard to focus, harder still to care. Continuously smoothing her hand over her flat stomach, she listened in dreamy disconnection.
"So Anya said Willow just sucked all that dark magic up into her, drained all the books dry, then walked right back out again," Dawn explained, sounding far away and tinny to Buffy's ears. " ... called Xander on his cell and found out about the shooting."
Buffy wondered if things would have been different if she'd paid attention to Willow's growing power sooner. Maybe listening and discussing instead of lecturing and giving ultimatums after that incident with Dawn and the boils .... She sighed and shifted, trying to find a comfortable position, one in which her shoulder didn't feel like it was being skewered by hot pokers.
" ... knew about Tara yet. I came home and found her there in the bedroom," Dawn's voice broke. When she spoke again it was thick with unshed tears. "Buffy, she looked like Tara but ... but not, you know? The thing that made her Tara was just ... gone. She looked," Dawn paused to consider, "broken."
Eyes dry as sand, Buffy clutched her sister's hand tighter and made appropriate comforting noises. She felt she ought to scream and cry and curse the injustice of Tara's death but couldn't even summon up the energy to believe in it.
Dawn sniffed and roughly rubbed her other hand across her eyes. " ... called 911 ... then Xander ... police gave me a ride ...."
Buffy wondered mildly if she were about to pass out. Dawn's narrative seemed to be coming and going like cable TV on a windy day. Buffy couldn't remember how she was supposed to respond. Was this a serious or humorous story? Was she expected to smile and nod or frown and shake her head?
" ... until you were out of surgery, then he went after Willow."
There was a pause in the flow and Buffy knew it was her turn to say something. What was it?
"How long ago?" she asked hollowly.
"Over an hour ... so angry ... Xander can handle...."
Would that anxious, irritatingly loud voice never stop? Buffy closed her hot eyes and imagined that she was floating in a cool swimming pool, cradled by water, hair fanning out around her head, with nothing more important to decide than rather to continue floating or swim laps.
Her attention snagged on a hard buoy, and what was a buoy doing in her swimming pool?
" ... hope he doesn't get to her in time. I hope she flays Warren alive for what he did!" Dawn's ferocity pierced her aquatic bubble.
Buffy's eyes opened and she tried to pull her thoughts together.
"No," she said. "Don't ...."
"Why not?" Dawn snapped. "I hate him! Hate him!"
"And he should be punished." Buffy marveled at her ability to form words that actually made sense. "But not by Willow. Think of what it would do to her to ... to kill someone when she's out of her head like this."
"Then I wish Spike were here. He'd find a way to take care of Warren like he did Ben," Dawn continued with terrier tenacity.
Buffy decided a teenager with a vendetta was scarier than a Sicilian mafioso.
"And Spike would still be here if ...." Dawn's angry voice trailed off but the meaning was clear.
Buffy sighed and closed her eyes again. Maybe Dawn was right. At this moment it would be so easy to surrender things into Spike's capable hands. Let the soulless being plow through the morass of questionable ethics and cut to the heart of the problem. But it would ...
" ... be wrong, Dawn," Buffy murmured. "Human laws ...." She trailed off.
"God, you're really out of it!" Dawn sounded taken aback. "You'd better get some sleep."
"No." Buffy struggled to sit up. "I have to go. Have to help."
"No you don't. Let Xander handle this one," Dawn commanded with steely defiance, pushing her gently back onto the bed. "You're in no shape and, believe it or not, you aren't the only one who can fix things."
Buffy relaxed despite herself and gratefully accepted the glass of water Dawn held to her lips. She drank it down then allowed her sister to tuck the covers firmly around her.
"It'll all be okay, Buffy. You'll see," Dawn whispered, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "We'll all be fine ...."
Her voice faded away and the light faded away and Buffy was floating in blessed, codeine induced darkness.
**********
"Hello, love. What are you doing here?" a rumbling voice came from the shadows on her left.
"Where's here?" she asked, trying to make out shapes in the pitch black.
"Cave," he replied. "Dark, isn't it?"
"Yes. I can't see you." Buffy held out a blind hand. "Why are we here?"
"Don't know about you, but I'm waiting for my boon," he answered.
"Your which?"
"Never mind," he chuckled. She felt a hand slip into hers, strong fingers lace through her own. "Come wait with me?" he asked.
It was quiet and cool there so she sat on the hard stone floor with him and waited.
***********
"Mama, nooooo! I hate those socks!" Jack shrieked at glass-shattering pitch. "I won't wear 'em! You can't make me!" His face was bright red and tear streaked as he thrashed around, kicking his stubby little legs.
"Honey, you've got to get your shoes on. We're going to be late," Buffy pleaded, gripping his ankle firmly and cramming on an offensive sock. She hated herself for doing it but was reduced to resorting to bribery. "We'll stop at McDonald's later. How about that?"
A brilliant smile broke through the clouds. "Can I get a Happy Meal? They got Scooby Doo. I seen it on the commercial."
"Sure," Buffy agreed, then held up an admonishing finger. "But only if Aunt Willow says you're good for her the whole time you're there. And that means no arguing, no yelling and NO chasing Miss Kitty this time."
Jack was wide-eyed and astonished. "I never chased Kitty! I love her! I was just tryin' to pet her."
"Okay, kiddo. Let's roll," Buffy lifted her recalcitrant toddler and swung him through the air. He shrieked with pleasure. Buffy considered that the mood swings of a pre-schooler rivaled severe PMS.
As they walked out the door her precious whirlwind wrapped his arms around her neck and gave her a fierce hug. "I love you, mama. Sorry 'bout the socks."
"Love you too." She smiled and gave him a big smooch on the mouth.
"Ew, ma," he groaned, scrubbing at his lips with one grubby hand.
Buffy growled, tossed him over her shoulder and carried him upside down and laughing all the way to the car.
***********
"I love you," she whispered. "You know that, right?"
"Not particularly," Spike answered gruffly. "Hasn't been glaringly obvious up to now."
"Well, I do." She fell silent, thinking. "And not just because of what we do in bed. It's ...."
He waited patiently. It wasn't often that Buffy put her feelings into words and he wasn't about to derail her thoughts by making some smart-ass comment.
"The way you listen to me ... and tell me the truth about things even when I don't want to hear. It drives me crazy but I need it."
"Mm," he gave a non-committal grunt.
She snuggled in closer, squeezing him in her powerful arms and nuzzling her face against his chest. "Want more?" she teased.
"Yeah," he answered softly.
"I love the way you're so thoughtful and sweet under that stupid Big Bad exterior. I love knowing that, if I let you, you'd pamper me like a princess, but at the same time you'd push me to be as tough a fighter as I need to be. It's a rare thing, for a man to love a woman's strength."
"That it is. Angel couldn't do it," he was quick to point out.
"No," she agreed, smiling at his insecurity. "Angel likes being in charge too much."
"So ...." he drew the word out with a sibilant hiss, "You got anything in particular you want to command me to do? Ready and willing here."
"Not just now," Buffy said with a laugh. "I think we've done enough damage for a while. I'm happy just cuddling like this, aren't you?"
"It's more than I ever imagined," he answered solemnly. "You sure you're not under another of Willow's spells?"
"Uh-uh. This time it's for real."
**********
Buffy listened at Jack's half open bedroom door to the murmur of voices inside: Jack's, plaintive and tear-soaked; Spike's, rumbly and soothing.
In a moment they stopped and she stepped away so that Spike could exit the door.
"Well?" she asked as he pulled it closed behind him. "Did you find out what happened?"
He took her arm and led her down the hall to their bedroom.
"He's quite a fighter, our Jack," Spike said proudly, closing the door behind him and gathering Buffy into his arms.
"And did you remember to tell him it's wrong to hit? That there's not any excuse for getting into a brawl on the playground?" She pushed against his chest and gave him a glare. "You were supposed to set him straight!"
"Look, pet, young Jack set a bully in his place good and proper. There's no harm in that. From what I understand this Fury kid's been harassing all and sundry ever since first grade."
"He could've gone to a playground monitor or .."
"Be a tell tale?" Spike sneered. "Come Buffy, what kind of ponce would you turn our boy into? He was protecting a weaker lad and I'm right proud of him. I won't tell him otherwise."
Buffy sighed and relaxed a little into his enfolding embrace. "Big bully, huh? How big?"
"Twice Jack's size to hear him tell it. And he got in some good licks before they pulled him off."
Against her will, Buffy smiled. "My god, I'm raising a little hellion," she said, resting her head on Spike's chest.
"That's the Summers blood in him," he murmured, kissing the top of her head. "Runs hot, doesn't it?"
"Hot enough to warm the undead," she teased, pulling away and giving him a lascivious smirk. "Want to find out?" She took his hand and pulled him to their bed.
*******
In her sleep, Buffy smiled and turned and dreamed and dreamed ..
The End
Don't be sad. There's still a world where Buffy and Spike can be together and be happy. We just haven't reached it yet. I want to write an alternate season 7 (preferably without SITs) but it will take a lot of mapping out and I need a long, long, LONG break from writing for now. When it's ready, my muse will come back in full force and stuff will pour forth, but it's currently in hibernation.