EPISODE SEVEN
"Defining Normal"

The black van pulled over to the sidewalk, slowly crawling to a stop and lurking in the shadows. Three pale faces peered out of the windscreen and across the street; their eyes moving in concurrent motion up the massive building that occupied the next block, it's impressive bulk silhouetted by the moon's argentine glow.

"Bastion," they chorused in hushed undertone.

"This is it," Tiny went on. "The secluded fortress home of Gladius and Jewel."

"And it's disappointingly lacking in both the seclusion and the fortressness departments," Weedy said. "Where are the sentries and stuff? Gallant should be standing out in front with that wicked axe of his at least."

"It's an old hotel," Stocky informed them. He'd pulled out a pair of binoculars and was scanning the entrance through the driver's side window. "'The Hyperion'," he mused, reading the signage. Then scoffed. "Lame. This whole set-up is so lame. It's a wonder they haven't been found out before."

"We're going to be the lame ones when they realize that we doubled back and followed them here." Tiny squirmed in his seat. "I mean, did you even see how fast they moved? I don't know how we got away without severe body damage."

"Yeah," Weedy agreed. "We are so gonna get busted."

"Shut up, Whine-drew," Stocky snapped.

"It's Andrew," Weedy/Andrew mumbled sulkily. "How come no one ever remembers that? Not like it's difficult or anything. You remember all the Eldrichian names, no probs."

"That's because they're interesting," Stocky sneered. "And you're not."

"Leave him alone, Warren," Tiny said petulantly, raising his rounded chin in an uncharacteristic show of defiance.

"And what? Pick on someone my own size? Oh wait. I can't." Stocky/Warren gave him a scathing look. "God you're pathetic. You're pathetic and you're short. Next time I'm partnering up with some guys who're actually..." He straightened suddenly, fingers hurriedly moving to better focus his binoculars. "Hang on, someone's coming out..."

All three paused with bated breath, waiting.

...And waiting.

"Well?" Tiny prompted. "Who is it?"

Warren shook his head in disbelief, listing the group one by one as they emerged from the depths of the celebrated building. "Falchion, Gladius... and, holy crap, Jewel."

"Where?" Tiny leant over Warren's shoulder, trying to get a better view, and then made an attempt at grabbing the binoculars out of his hands. "She's so hot!"

Warren shoved him. "Don't make me hurt you, Jonathon."

Tiny/Jonathon backed off, mouth set in a mutinous line, and glared at his larger companion. "You wouldn't even be here if it wasn't for me."

"Yeah, yeah. Whatever." Warren perked up again. "Ooh! Vigil just came out with Gallant and Nebula. They're all pretty well armed. Serious hardware, too. Could be something's up."

"They're probably going to hunt us down and kill us," Andrew fretted. "I'm too young to die!"

While Warren was scowling at Andrew, Jonathon finally managed to snatch the binoculars and zeroed in on the boat-like shape of the Gladius-mobile just as it tore away from the hotel, tyres squealing. The top was down and Falchion was perched on top of the backseat like he was riding in a Thanksgiving Day parade, the florescent streetlight accenting his hair and the gleaming leather across his shoulders. Gladius was in the driver's seat, almost invisible in the dark, his precious Jewel curled trustingly against his side.

Jonathon suddenly gasped, the magnifying lenses dropping from his fingers onto the floor of the van. "Oh-my-God."

Warren smacked him around the head. "Hey! Watch it, bumblefingers." He shifted forward to retrieve the fallen item and only then noticed the stupefied expression on the boy's baby face. "What?"

"That wasn't Jewel," Jonathon said. "That was Cordelia Chase. We went to high school together." He blinked, turning wide eyes on his companion. "I think I know where Eldritch is."

~[*]~

Giles rapped on the front door to 1630 Revello Drive with far more purpose than he had the last time and was satisfied by the sharp sound his knuckles made on the paneling. Yes, that was suitably authoritative.

He waited for what seemed an exorbitant amount time and then knocked again, now feeling a small measure of concern. Why wasn't she answering? "Buffy?"

He leant forward to check for signs of life, to try and peer through one of the rectangular glass insets, or even rest his ear against the door, when it abruptly swung open in front of him.

The Slayer blinked up at him, uncharacteristically startled, her eyes huge and red-rimmed, dominating her otherwise pale face.

"Oh Giles," she said inanely and sniffed, one hand wiping surreptitiously at her cheek. "It's you."

Giles paused, not sure how he could respond to that, and she took the opportunity to peer around him into the street, searching for precisely what he couldn't hope to guess. Hidden cameras perhaps.

"Wow, this is like becoming a regular thing," she remarked. "The visiting, I mean."

He sighed. It was worse than he'd thought, almost as bad as Spike had been making out. She was blatantly covering up, ignoring the fact that anyone with eyes in their head could see she'd been crying, let alone someone who was as close to her as family.

"Buffy..." he began.

She smiled, forcibly bright, and stepped back. "Oh sorry, my bad. Not exactly hostess-with-the-mostest these days. Come on in." She gestured toward the living room. "Spike's not here, but you knew that already."

"Indeed." He took a seat on the sofa, casting an eye over the suspiciously crushed box of tissues on the coffee table, and then pulling an appropriately horrified face at the crater-sized bowl of popcorn beside it. She had evidently been indulging in her own unique brand of wallowing.

Buffy delved into the puffed-up kernels, taking a handful. "Want some?"

"Er... Uh, no." He frowned at her. "Buffy..."

She plopped into the armchair. "You keep saying my name all the time, like you wanna say something serious." She nodded sagely, munching on a piece of her popcorn. "I gotta save the world again don't I?"

"I should think this is actually rather more important."

"What's bigger than world saveage? Other than the gi-normous beached-whaleyness that is me?"

Giles pinned her with steely eyes. "Why have you neglected to tell me of your problems with Spike?"

She glanced away guiltily. "Oh. You want to talk about..."

"What transpired in the Magic Box, yes. And also the consequences of your actions."

"Consequences? There are consequences now?" That flustered her, he could tell; the nervous babble was a dead giveaway. "Well, there was the yelling thing, and that wicked black eye..."

Giles leant forward, hands clasped together. "Do you realize what you're doing to him? How badly he's hurting?"

Buffy's eyes welled again, and her chin trembled. "I'm not doing anything to him. It's not me."

"It's not? Are you so sure?"

At the quietly solicitous tone in his voice, she finally broke down.

"No, I'm not! There's sure, and then there's me. I'm the incredibly unstable Unsure Girl. I just don't get it, Giles!" she lamented. "We were so happy, and then we weren't... and I don't mean to be so mean... and, and ...I love him SO MUCH! I don't want to hurt him, and I really don't want him to die! I don't!"

The Watcher's mouth twisted in an ironic smile. "Strangely enough, neither do I."

She stared at him, tears continuing to spill down her cheeks, seemingly unable to comprehend what he had just said. "But..."

"Despite what you may believe, I'm actually quite, um... fond of our resident vampire. He can be very... He - he does tend to grow on you."

"Like fungus," Buffy asserted. "Or one of those ivy-plant vine thingies. He gets all twined around your insides and then you just can't get him out with out destroying something vital."

Giles grimaced. "Yes, well, that's a very colorful way of looking at it."

"But it's true!" she insisted. She grabbed a wad of tissue from the box on the table and loudly blew her nose. "It looks all wrong on the surface, but Spike and me go together like ...Spike and me. We just fit, you know? We fit so good that for a while I couldn't tell where I finished and he started. Which wasn't always the best thing..."

"But he is an essential part of your life."

"I don't have a life without Spike. He is me. Only male. And British. And a vampire... Well, okay, so he's not me exactly..."

"You've never told him any of this, have you?"

"I didn't think I had to." She tapped the side of her head. "Link, right? I figured he already knew."

Giles rubbed his fingers into the crease in his forehead, though years of vexation had made the mark one of the deepest lines on his face and no amount of massage would ever eradicate it.

"He believes that you are pushing him away. That you don't need him anymore because he doesn't fit into the image you've created of a normal life..."

"Well, that's just stupid."

"...And I'm not convinced he's entirely wrong."

Buffy was silenced by that revelation. She huddled further into her chair, sliding down on her tailbone, a crease to rival Giles' forming between her brows. The gauzy over-shirt she wore had been knotted above the generous swell of her stomach and she absently twisted the loose tails around her fingers.

"Some of the responsibility can be placed squarely on my own doorstep," Giles went on. "I've been cautioning you from the very beginning to keep your identity secret, to appear normal above all else. I'm afraid I seem to have done more harm than good in that respect."

"No, that's not right. This has nothing to do with... It's not about you." Buffy struggled upright. "I wanted a nice normal life. Okay? I admit that. I wanted it for the longest time, but it could never work for me. Every time I got close, it blew up in my face. Remember that whole fiasco with Riley? That clinched it. I don't want normal now, or nice. I want Spike."

Giles chuckled. "Out of the mouths of... mothers-to-be."

"Shut up," she hiccuped, part sob, part laugh. "It's not funny."

"Certainly not." The Watcher sighed, serious once again. "Regardless of what you're saying Buffy, Spike is adamant that this estrangement is of your doing... A-a-and, quite astonishingly, he's willing to sacrifice himself so that you may have the normal life that you want."

"But already said that I don't..." Buffy paused in the middle of reaching for another helping of popcorn, eyes widening. "Sacrifice himself?"

"I've never seen him at such a low ebb," Giles said softly. "It's somewhat disconcerting. He's usually so... it seems ludicrous to say, but he's usually so lively, so dynamic. A force to be reckoned with, a..."

"...Pain in the ass?"

"Quite."

Buffy mock-frowned at him. "Way to be supportive of my significant other, Giles," she admonished. Then she shook her head. "God, I could just kill him sometimes. He's so completely... aargh! Why doesn't he just talk to me, huh? He used to talk all the time. Used to be I couldn't pay him to shut up."

"Are you wholly confident that you are not accountable for the link's shortcomings?"

"Not wholly confident. I'm not doing anything purposefully, not as far as I can tell, but I just get so... cranky. Mad cranky psycho Buffy on the rampage. And I don't get the why. Maybe its hormones." She brightened at that, fixing her Watcher with hopeful eyes. "Do you think its hormones?"

"I - I couldn't say," he stuttered at her. "I'm not an expert in these matters."

"Willow thinks I'm shutting everyone out, too. If I am, I don't mean to. I want you guys to be here, to be part of Seth's life the way you've been part of mine. Support system good, right?" She smiled sadly. "I've been thinking about that a lot. Haven't resolved anything, but the thinking part's covered. Everything keep going round and round in my head... and where it stops no one knows..." She giggled. "God, I sound like Drusilla. You think that'll get Spike back? He seemed to like the crazy..."

"Now you're just being ridiculous. I dare say it's another thing you have in common with Spike, he was acting rather the same way."

"Maybe we're influencing each other. It's not like we haven't done that before."

Giles stared at her, struck by the statement. "Of course!" he exclaimed. "Buffy, you're picking up on each other's insecurities, and by doing that you're feeding them, making them manifest themselves."

She pouted. "Well, that sucks. Make it stop."

"I'm afraid that part's not up to me."

"You're no help. I thought you were supposed to be helping." She paused to suck in a deep breath, wincing and pressing a hand to her side. "Ow."

Giles actually panicked, shooting to his feet. "W-what? What is it?"

"Popcorn," she muttered viciously, as though confronting a mortal enemy. "Another item to add to the ever-expanding 'Buffy can't eat that anymore' list."

The Watcher shifted his weight from one foot to the other, looking like he would like nothing better than to make a dash for it. "P-pardon?"

"Seth's pretty finicky about foodstuffs," she said, shifting her own weight to her right hip so that she was listing sideward in the chair. "Oh, that's much better," she sighed, enjoying a heartburn-free moment, then raised her brows at Giles. "I wonder if Spike's getting this. 'Cause now the pain's just sort of evaporated. That only happens when it transfers otherwhere."

"Shouldn't you be able to contact him and see?"

"Uh..." Buffy looked dumbstruck, like she was only now realizing that she could do that, but was still reluctant to make the attempt. "I guess."

"You guess? Buffy..."

"And there you go with the name-game again. Drop the sincere thing already, okay? I'll try it, just... gimme a minute."

She closed her eyes, lips pressed together in a thin line of concentration. After a moment her expression softened visibly, jaw going slack, those same lips parting on a blissful sigh. ...Ah, Spike...

Being connected to Spike could sometimes be like sticking your finger in a power socket, or diving headlong off a cliff-face into a churning whirlpool. Right now, though, she was getting a diluted sense of comfort. He was surrounded by people he knew and trusted, people he categorized as family. On closer inspection, he actually felt kinda... well, yellow. All shiny and golden like a sunlit field, like the glow from a cozy open fire caressing her skin with its warm fingers. In spite of everything that was happening, he still felt like home to her. More like home than this house did nowadays.

"And they call him mellow yellow," she sing-songed in an amused tone.

Giles quirked an eyebrow at the odd reference - he hadn't thought anyone her age had even heard of Donovan. Was this further evidence of Spike's influence? He refrained from commenting, though, and quietly moved back to his spot on the sofa. He did not wish to distract her.

Then Buffy suddenly hissed, as if in pain, and shot backward in her chair, her eyes flying open in shock, fingers clawing into the armrests. The Watcher was startled to see a ripple of the yellow she'd mentioned swirling through the deep green of her irises.

"Good Lord!" He found himself gravitating forward in his seat, mesmerized by the play of colors. There was a final fleeting glimmer of icy blue and then she returned to normal - if leaping out of her seat like a scalded cat could be construed as such. He wondered in passing if he'd ever seen a woman in such an advanced state of pregnancy move with that degree of speed and agility before.

He leapt to his own feet to follow her as she maneuvered toward the stairs. "Buffy, what is it?"

"I'm going to LA," she gritted determinedly. "Right now."

Giles caught hold of her arm just as she began her ascent, and instantaneously found himself catapulted into the front door as she flung him off without a second thought. He slid to the floor, stunned.

Buffy toddled to his side, reverting all at once to the tearful hormone bomb she'd been earlier. "Oh God, I'm so sorry. I don't know where that came from. I haven't had that much power since..." She trailed off, terrified of what she'd just revealed. "Um..."

He propped himself up on his elbows. "I am aware of your current affliction," he said gently. "Spike enlightened me."

"Spike had no business lighting anyone," she retorted, more out of habit than anything, then chewed at her lip. Her eyes dropped to stare at the floor, troubled and hurt. "He pushed me away just now. Slammed the linky door in my face like I was an annoying travelling salesman person."

Giles frowned. "I would have thought him above revenge of that sort."

"What sort? There was no 'venge' in the first place, what's he need the 'Re' part for?"

"He told me you'd been pushing him away. Perhaps this is merely tit for tat."

She set her jaw. "But I haven't been pushing him away," she intoned stubbornly. "I already said it wasn't me."

Giles looked up, his expression growing thoughtful. "You may be right. There may very well be an outside influence." His gaze was focused on her belly. From this new perspective, it looked enormous - the very thing he'd been overlooking now hitting him squarely in the face. "Or in this case, an inside influence."

TBC...