Well, hello there!
Bet you thought I gave up on you!
Nah, real life has just been a bit hectic of late. So, I am a bit behind. But we should be in good shape this week and maybe even next. In the meantime, I will also add some of the short fics to the always group.
Ooh, and a new tidbit. I got a Live Journal recently. Most of it is just chatter (feel free to hop in), but the new chapters will be there too. Stop on by. The address is below.
So, on we go with the story. Please let me know what you think!
*Cheery Vibes*,
Nimue
Title: Trading Spaces (Chapter Seven of Meant to Be)
Author: Nimue
Rating: PG -13
Pairing Buffy/Spike. Most major characters included.
Feedback: Yes, please
For instant notification of fic releases, straight to your mailbox, please visit Always_Everyday@yahoogroups.com
Disclaimer: All characters belong to Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, UPN, Fox... Just Borrowing. (With, of course, the exception of Emma and William, who belong to Buffy and Spike)
The rest of the story can be found at:
and present chapters are being posted on my live journal at:
Summary: Joyce delivers her decision to the Queen. Spike has an important talk with Cyrus and Giles.
Trading Spaces
Joyce sat on the bank of the river, those words echoing through her head.
"Would you like to go home?"
So many thoughts. So many emotions in that one little question. To see them again - Buffy, Dawn - even through different eyes. But to see them. To touch them. Feel that love.
Heaven, in all of her glory and unconditional love and happiness, could not replicate the kind of complete belonging of family. To hold and be held. To touch and be touched. To watch her grandchildren grow up, even if they were now her siblings.
But Buffy. *This* world's Buffy. The child that had to die for the Slayer to exist. Even if leaving, in the grand scheme of things, was only temporary, what would that child do? How would she feel? Who would sit by the river and skip stones and talk about the colours of the flower petals and the way that the Pegasus' wings moved differently from that of the bird?
Finally, Joyce's attention flitted from the quiet ebb and flow of the water and back to her Queen. "What would. what would happen to Buffy?"
The Queen furrowed her brow, not quite sure of the question. Joyce shook her head in two quick movements and clarified. "This Buffy. The child Buffy."
A small smile painted the Queen's rosy lips. "She will, of course, be invited to stay in the Palace of the Sky under my protection. If you are to be part of the group that watches over my child, I shall certainly watch over yours while you are away."
Joyce nodded slowly, her attention returning to the water. "Would I remember? I mean. will I remember being Buffy's mother?"
"You will have a sense of them. Know that your past with your parents goes far beyond the life that you live. But, no. You won't remember the life from which you just came. You will not remember being her mother," the Queen replied.
Again Joyce nodded. It was silent now except for the sound of the river flowing and the trees giggling quietly in the background. Joyce watched the water, hoping, wondering, waiting for it to give her an answer.
"And you said you would take care of this Buffy? Tell her that I would not leave her forever?" Tears began to spill down the woman's cheeks.
The Queen's gentle hand reached out and brushed the tears away with hands as soft as rose petals. Delicately, she turned Joyce's face to look at hers and smiled a soft, genuine smile. "My dear, remember that the time one spends away is but the blink of an eye here. I know for you, this has seemed a long road. But the passage of time in Heaven is relative. A lifetime on Earth can pass in seconds here. Or, when you miss the ones that you love, it can be an eternity. I am only offering you a chance to spend one more blink of the eye with your family. You do not have to take it. But, for your sacrifices in order to preserve your daughter, and the One, you have earned it. Your daughter, the one who had to cross to this dimension in order to allow the Union of the One to occur, will be rewarded for her sacrifice as well. In the meantime, I will guard her as one of my own. Love her as I have loved you and all of those who come to stay with me. To her, your time away will be but a dream. One night's dream."
Tears flowed in silvery ribbons down Joyce's cheeks as she listened to the smooth, soothing voice of the Queen. Her heart was bursting and breaking at the same moment.
"Do you want to go home, my child?"
"Yes." ~~~~~
Spike walked through the heavy oak doors, customary swagger in tow, and into the establishment, surveying his surroundings all the while. The walls were a deep cherry paneling, the floor much the same. Crimson and gold tapestries hung along the walls and rich burgundy leather chairs surrounded cherry wood tables of varying sizes, glossed to a near blinding radiance. There was a bar at the far end of the room, polished and gleaming, and a barkeep in a crisp black suit drying glasses to a dazzling shine.
This was definitely a step up from the Bronze.
Finally, Spike spotted his target sitting in a leather chair against the wall, taking a long, smooth pull of his draft, a cigar smoldering in the crystal ashtray on the table in front of him. Slowly, Spike made his way across the intimate space, feeling guilty about even looking at other patrons. This was not the type of place in which one people-watched and "restyled" as Buffy had once explained to him in the mall as she ripped into the ensembles of passers-by.
"Spike?" The familiar voice said as Spike approached the table. He had been told to dress properly. No jeans. No boots. No broken-in leather armour. With much grumbling, Buffy had dressed him in sleek black pants, a fitted black shirt with a collar and buttons which she promised to unbutton later in an even more kittenish way, and polished black shoes. His silver belt buckle was the only break from the funeral attire. Buffy could change the clothes but not the man.
A small smile broke on his face. Didn't think she wanted to change him anymore. That felt quite good.
"Rupert," Spike answered, shaking the hand offered to him and settling into a chair across the table.
Cyrus walked up in a customary, Watcher-issue tweed suit, carrying three pints of golden ale and settling them down in the center of the table.
"Thanks, mate," Spike said, taking a glass and immediately downing a gulp before nodding his approval at the Watchers. Cyrus shook his head, a smile on his lips, and lowered himself into the seat between Giles and Spike.
"Step up from the Bronze, innit?" Spike commented, looking round the perfectly appointed room.
"Quite," Giles answered, a smug grin on his face. "I had to do a little rerouting of funds and a bit of string-pulling with the Council, but I think it will do."
Spike furrowed his brow, head tilting as he worked through that remark. "You own this place?"
"Technically, no," Giles answered, removing his glasses and setting them down onto the polished table. He rubbed his eyes gently, thinking. "The Council owns most of it. I'd explained that Sunnydale proper was utterly devoid of any suitable place to entertain visiting Watchers and researchers into the mythology of the One."
"Hey, there!" Spike snapped, mildly offended. "Not a myth, Buffy and me."
"I meant it in the kindest way possible," Rupert responded without missing a beat, a smile breaking on his face as he took another pull of his draft.
Spike relaxed, chuckling and returning the smile. Cyrus shook his head. Watching the two of them interact was like watching a cat with a mouse. Only it was anyone's guess as to whose turn it was to be the feline.
"So, got a bit bored with watering down at the Bronze and figured a way to get the Council to provide you with a more. age appropriate establishment?" Spike questioned, raising an eyebrow.
"Except for the extremely low crack about the age, yes."
Spike chuckled again, taking another drink from the chilled bar glass. "Nice place you got here."
"Thanks," Cyrus answered, joining the conversation. "It was. a project."
"Watcher turned interior decorator," Spike teased, another bit of golden liquid missing from the glass.
Cyrus did his best to smirk a response.
"So, Spike. What brings us here tonight? I believe it was you who called to meet with us? Something wrong with Emma? William? Buffy?" Giles's tone changed almost instantly from casual to serious as he listed the people who had become his family.
Spike shook his head quickly, banishing the thought from the Watcher's mind in an instant. "Nothin' like that, mate. Buffy'n the kids are right as rain."
"Then to what do we owe the pleasure?" Giles asked. "Not that it was a burden. Anya has become quite addicted to Trading Spaces and is currently remaking our house and driving me up the wall."
"Lovely shade of pink she painted your bedroom," Cyrus teased, ducking the swat that doubtless was coming his way.
Spike laughed. A rich, relaxed purr of a sound. It had been a while since he'd been out alone with just the men. Much as he loved Buffy, he realized that even the greatest of loves needed a night or two off.
"Won't even start," Spike muttered, stifling a laugh. "Poofter."
"Now, Spike," Giles began to scold, his face reddening with anger.
"Easy, Watcher. Got to remember, got two women of my own in the house. I drew the line at fuzzy pink bathmats and frilly pillows."
Giles relaxed, his own chuckle bubbling up from deep within. "I do believe they've emasculated us."
"Still got my rocks," Spike bragged, taking a suitably manly swig of beer.
Cyrus laughed. "Right. That's why you were carrying Buffy's purse, holding Emma's hand and toting along school supplies in the mall last week."
"Hey!"
"Just pointing out," Cyrus teased, ducking from a swat on the opposite side.
Spike let the laughter die down a bit and waited for a lull in the jovial banter. Had to think of a way to tell them. Had to come up with the right words.
He chuckled to himself, muttering, "Actually, my rocks had a bit to do with it."
"Pardon?" Giles said, nearly spitting out his mouthful of beer.
"Say that aloud, did I? Sorry," Spike answered, smile lighting his face.
"Mind explaining that comment?" Giles asked shaking his head briskly to banish any and all thoughts of Spike's rocks, and what they could do, from his head.
"Right," Spike began, leaning back in his chair and taking up a completely manly slouch. "Got a bit of news that Buffy and I thought you should know." He paused for a minute, deciding if he should drop an annoyance bomb. Course. "Dad."
"Hate it when you call me that," Giles snapped, eliciting a throaty laugh from Cyrus and a smug grin of satisfaction from Spike. "Out with it. You're making my skin crawl more than normal tonight."
Spike laughed, leaning forward. "Haven't told anyone else. Well, 'magine Buffy told Red this afternoon, but I'm thinking she wants to keep it quiet a while. You know, 'til things are definite."
"Definite?" Cyrus asked.
"What in God's name are you getting at Spike? I'm quite sure that there's a point buried in there somewhere," Giles sighed, taking another pull from the bar glass.
"Love it when your knickers are in a bunch, Watcher," Spike teased. He waited a moment, letting the snarkiness fade off before he got to the crux of the issue. "We think, Buffy and I, well I'm sure, I think."
"Out with it, "Giles snapped, annoyance lacing his tone.
"Looks like Buffy and I are due to have another tot," Spike blurted, a satisfied smile making the lines around his eyes dance. "So, guess it does have something to do with my stones."
Both Cyrus and Giles sat there in disbelief, slack jawed and staring at the Vampire. Spike's smile faded, wondering what brought on this reaction. Finally, Cyrus broke the silence.
"You sure?"
"Haven't been to the doctor yet, but. yeah," Spike answered, curiosity replacing sarcasm in his voice.
"How is it possible?" Giles muttered to himself. "By all accounts, the prophesy allowed for only one child to be born to the One."
"Buffy's not one for following prophesies to the letter, Watcher. Should know that one by now. Bit of a rebel, my girl," Spike mused, his smile returning as thoughts of her pretty face, her perfect, golden body, her smile, her eyes, flooded his mind. It made him want to run home. Who needed nights alone with the men?
"Quite right on that count," Giles responded, rubbing his eyes again. "A third Windsor child," he thought aloud. "God help us, every one."
"Hey now. Tots we have are good little mites and you know it," Spike defended.
Giles chuckled at Spike's fierce protectiveness over his family. "Spike, they're lovely children. I'm just giving you a bit of a hard time."
Spike relaxed, returning to the more casual slouch. "They are, aren't they?"
"Quite," Cyrus said. "I doubt anyone could have possibly imagined that the Slayer and her Vampire would make such good parents."
"Hey, not *her* anything," Spike snapped, defending his much talked about rocks. He felt the lie in the words as they slid from his lips.
Giles and Cyrus burst into gales of laughter. "Spike, you're a slave to her and those children. In a good way, but you're her everything," Cyrus retorted, chuckling softly.
"Willing slave," Spike corrected, slouching further in the chair. "Got to give me some credit."
"I'll grant you that," Giles responded, amused. The laughter died slowly down at the table and they fell silent, musing on what was said. Spike and Buffy becoming parents for the third time. The thought should terrify them all. A Vampire. A Slayer. A prophesy.
But it didn't. In fact, it filled them all with the warmth that only true joy could bring.
"So, I suppose I get to play grandfather once again," Giles sighed, smiling, lifting his glass towards the others. "I can't wait."
The two other men lifted their glasses in turn.
"To Spike and Buffy and their newest child. May he, or she, be as happy and as healthy as the two before," Giles recited, clinking glasses with his partners.
"Hear hear," both Cyrus and Spike said in unison.
"And God help us all," Giles snarked, under his breath.
"Congratulations."
To be contd.
Bet you thought I gave up on you!
Nah, real life has just been a bit hectic of late. So, I am a bit behind. But we should be in good shape this week and maybe even next. In the meantime, I will also add some of the short fics to the always group.
Ooh, and a new tidbit. I got a Live Journal recently. Most of it is just chatter (feel free to hop in), but the new chapters will be there too. Stop on by. The address is below.
So, on we go with the story. Please let me know what you think!
*Cheery Vibes*,
Nimue
Title: Trading Spaces (Chapter Seven of Meant to Be)
Author: Nimue
Rating: PG -13
Pairing Buffy/Spike. Most major characters included.
Feedback: Yes, please
For instant notification of fic releases, straight to your mailbox, please visit Always_Everyday@yahoogroups.com
Disclaimer: All characters belong to Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, UPN, Fox... Just Borrowing. (With, of course, the exception of Emma and William, who belong to Buffy and Spike)
The rest of the story can be found at:
and present chapters are being posted on my live journal at:
Summary: Joyce delivers her decision to the Queen. Spike has an important talk with Cyrus and Giles.
Trading Spaces
Joyce sat on the bank of the river, those words echoing through her head.
"Would you like to go home?"
So many thoughts. So many emotions in that one little question. To see them again - Buffy, Dawn - even through different eyes. But to see them. To touch them. Feel that love.
Heaven, in all of her glory and unconditional love and happiness, could not replicate the kind of complete belonging of family. To hold and be held. To touch and be touched. To watch her grandchildren grow up, even if they were now her siblings.
But Buffy. *This* world's Buffy. The child that had to die for the Slayer to exist. Even if leaving, in the grand scheme of things, was only temporary, what would that child do? How would she feel? Who would sit by the river and skip stones and talk about the colours of the flower petals and the way that the Pegasus' wings moved differently from that of the bird?
Finally, Joyce's attention flitted from the quiet ebb and flow of the water and back to her Queen. "What would. what would happen to Buffy?"
The Queen furrowed her brow, not quite sure of the question. Joyce shook her head in two quick movements and clarified. "This Buffy. The child Buffy."
A small smile painted the Queen's rosy lips. "She will, of course, be invited to stay in the Palace of the Sky under my protection. If you are to be part of the group that watches over my child, I shall certainly watch over yours while you are away."
Joyce nodded slowly, her attention returning to the water. "Would I remember? I mean. will I remember being Buffy's mother?"
"You will have a sense of them. Know that your past with your parents goes far beyond the life that you live. But, no. You won't remember the life from which you just came. You will not remember being her mother," the Queen replied.
Again Joyce nodded. It was silent now except for the sound of the river flowing and the trees giggling quietly in the background. Joyce watched the water, hoping, wondering, waiting for it to give her an answer.
"And you said you would take care of this Buffy? Tell her that I would not leave her forever?" Tears began to spill down the woman's cheeks.
The Queen's gentle hand reached out and brushed the tears away with hands as soft as rose petals. Delicately, she turned Joyce's face to look at hers and smiled a soft, genuine smile. "My dear, remember that the time one spends away is but the blink of an eye here. I know for you, this has seemed a long road. But the passage of time in Heaven is relative. A lifetime on Earth can pass in seconds here. Or, when you miss the ones that you love, it can be an eternity. I am only offering you a chance to spend one more blink of the eye with your family. You do not have to take it. But, for your sacrifices in order to preserve your daughter, and the One, you have earned it. Your daughter, the one who had to cross to this dimension in order to allow the Union of the One to occur, will be rewarded for her sacrifice as well. In the meantime, I will guard her as one of my own. Love her as I have loved you and all of those who come to stay with me. To her, your time away will be but a dream. One night's dream."
Tears flowed in silvery ribbons down Joyce's cheeks as she listened to the smooth, soothing voice of the Queen. Her heart was bursting and breaking at the same moment.
"Do you want to go home, my child?"
"Yes." ~~~~~
Spike walked through the heavy oak doors, customary swagger in tow, and into the establishment, surveying his surroundings all the while. The walls were a deep cherry paneling, the floor much the same. Crimson and gold tapestries hung along the walls and rich burgundy leather chairs surrounded cherry wood tables of varying sizes, glossed to a near blinding radiance. There was a bar at the far end of the room, polished and gleaming, and a barkeep in a crisp black suit drying glasses to a dazzling shine.
This was definitely a step up from the Bronze.
Finally, Spike spotted his target sitting in a leather chair against the wall, taking a long, smooth pull of his draft, a cigar smoldering in the crystal ashtray on the table in front of him. Slowly, Spike made his way across the intimate space, feeling guilty about even looking at other patrons. This was not the type of place in which one people-watched and "restyled" as Buffy had once explained to him in the mall as she ripped into the ensembles of passers-by.
"Spike?" The familiar voice said as Spike approached the table. He had been told to dress properly. No jeans. No boots. No broken-in leather armour. With much grumbling, Buffy had dressed him in sleek black pants, a fitted black shirt with a collar and buttons which she promised to unbutton later in an even more kittenish way, and polished black shoes. His silver belt buckle was the only break from the funeral attire. Buffy could change the clothes but not the man.
A small smile broke on his face. Didn't think she wanted to change him anymore. That felt quite good.
"Rupert," Spike answered, shaking the hand offered to him and settling into a chair across the table.
Cyrus walked up in a customary, Watcher-issue tweed suit, carrying three pints of golden ale and settling them down in the center of the table.
"Thanks, mate," Spike said, taking a glass and immediately downing a gulp before nodding his approval at the Watchers. Cyrus shook his head, a smile on his lips, and lowered himself into the seat between Giles and Spike.
"Step up from the Bronze, innit?" Spike commented, looking round the perfectly appointed room.
"Quite," Giles answered, a smug grin on his face. "I had to do a little rerouting of funds and a bit of string-pulling with the Council, but I think it will do."
Spike furrowed his brow, head tilting as he worked through that remark. "You own this place?"
"Technically, no," Giles answered, removing his glasses and setting them down onto the polished table. He rubbed his eyes gently, thinking. "The Council owns most of it. I'd explained that Sunnydale proper was utterly devoid of any suitable place to entertain visiting Watchers and researchers into the mythology of the One."
"Hey, there!" Spike snapped, mildly offended. "Not a myth, Buffy and me."
"I meant it in the kindest way possible," Rupert responded without missing a beat, a smile breaking on his face as he took another pull of his draft.
Spike relaxed, chuckling and returning the smile. Cyrus shook his head. Watching the two of them interact was like watching a cat with a mouse. Only it was anyone's guess as to whose turn it was to be the feline.
"So, got a bit bored with watering down at the Bronze and figured a way to get the Council to provide you with a more. age appropriate establishment?" Spike questioned, raising an eyebrow.
"Except for the extremely low crack about the age, yes."
Spike chuckled again, taking another drink from the chilled bar glass. "Nice place you got here."
"Thanks," Cyrus answered, joining the conversation. "It was. a project."
"Watcher turned interior decorator," Spike teased, another bit of golden liquid missing from the glass.
Cyrus did his best to smirk a response.
"So, Spike. What brings us here tonight? I believe it was you who called to meet with us? Something wrong with Emma? William? Buffy?" Giles's tone changed almost instantly from casual to serious as he listed the people who had become his family.
Spike shook his head quickly, banishing the thought from the Watcher's mind in an instant. "Nothin' like that, mate. Buffy'n the kids are right as rain."
"Then to what do we owe the pleasure?" Giles asked. "Not that it was a burden. Anya has become quite addicted to Trading Spaces and is currently remaking our house and driving me up the wall."
"Lovely shade of pink she painted your bedroom," Cyrus teased, ducking the swat that doubtless was coming his way.
Spike laughed. A rich, relaxed purr of a sound. It had been a while since he'd been out alone with just the men. Much as he loved Buffy, he realized that even the greatest of loves needed a night or two off.
"Won't even start," Spike muttered, stifling a laugh. "Poofter."
"Now, Spike," Giles began to scold, his face reddening with anger.
"Easy, Watcher. Got to remember, got two women of my own in the house. I drew the line at fuzzy pink bathmats and frilly pillows."
Giles relaxed, his own chuckle bubbling up from deep within. "I do believe they've emasculated us."
"Still got my rocks," Spike bragged, taking a suitably manly swig of beer.
Cyrus laughed. "Right. That's why you were carrying Buffy's purse, holding Emma's hand and toting along school supplies in the mall last week."
"Hey!"
"Just pointing out," Cyrus teased, ducking from a swat on the opposite side.
Spike let the laughter die down a bit and waited for a lull in the jovial banter. Had to think of a way to tell them. Had to come up with the right words.
He chuckled to himself, muttering, "Actually, my rocks had a bit to do with it."
"Pardon?" Giles said, nearly spitting out his mouthful of beer.
"Say that aloud, did I? Sorry," Spike answered, smile lighting his face.
"Mind explaining that comment?" Giles asked shaking his head briskly to banish any and all thoughts of Spike's rocks, and what they could do, from his head.
"Right," Spike began, leaning back in his chair and taking up a completely manly slouch. "Got a bit of news that Buffy and I thought you should know." He paused for a minute, deciding if he should drop an annoyance bomb. Course. "Dad."
"Hate it when you call me that," Giles snapped, eliciting a throaty laugh from Cyrus and a smug grin of satisfaction from Spike. "Out with it. You're making my skin crawl more than normal tonight."
Spike laughed, leaning forward. "Haven't told anyone else. Well, 'magine Buffy told Red this afternoon, but I'm thinking she wants to keep it quiet a while. You know, 'til things are definite."
"Definite?" Cyrus asked.
"What in God's name are you getting at Spike? I'm quite sure that there's a point buried in there somewhere," Giles sighed, taking another pull from the bar glass.
"Love it when your knickers are in a bunch, Watcher," Spike teased. He waited a moment, letting the snarkiness fade off before he got to the crux of the issue. "We think, Buffy and I, well I'm sure, I think."
"Out with it, "Giles snapped, annoyance lacing his tone.
"Looks like Buffy and I are due to have another tot," Spike blurted, a satisfied smile making the lines around his eyes dance. "So, guess it does have something to do with my stones."
Both Cyrus and Giles sat there in disbelief, slack jawed and staring at the Vampire. Spike's smile faded, wondering what brought on this reaction. Finally, Cyrus broke the silence.
"You sure?"
"Haven't been to the doctor yet, but. yeah," Spike answered, curiosity replacing sarcasm in his voice.
"How is it possible?" Giles muttered to himself. "By all accounts, the prophesy allowed for only one child to be born to the One."
"Buffy's not one for following prophesies to the letter, Watcher. Should know that one by now. Bit of a rebel, my girl," Spike mused, his smile returning as thoughts of her pretty face, her perfect, golden body, her smile, her eyes, flooded his mind. It made him want to run home. Who needed nights alone with the men?
"Quite right on that count," Giles responded, rubbing his eyes again. "A third Windsor child," he thought aloud. "God help us, every one."
"Hey now. Tots we have are good little mites and you know it," Spike defended.
Giles chuckled at Spike's fierce protectiveness over his family. "Spike, they're lovely children. I'm just giving you a bit of a hard time."
Spike relaxed, returning to the more casual slouch. "They are, aren't they?"
"Quite," Cyrus said. "I doubt anyone could have possibly imagined that the Slayer and her Vampire would make such good parents."
"Hey, not *her* anything," Spike snapped, defending his much talked about rocks. He felt the lie in the words as they slid from his lips.
Giles and Cyrus burst into gales of laughter. "Spike, you're a slave to her and those children. In a good way, but you're her everything," Cyrus retorted, chuckling softly.
"Willing slave," Spike corrected, slouching further in the chair. "Got to give me some credit."
"I'll grant you that," Giles responded, amused. The laughter died slowly down at the table and they fell silent, musing on what was said. Spike and Buffy becoming parents for the third time. The thought should terrify them all. A Vampire. A Slayer. A prophesy.
But it didn't. In fact, it filled them all with the warmth that only true joy could bring.
"So, I suppose I get to play grandfather once again," Giles sighed, smiling, lifting his glass towards the others. "I can't wait."
The two other men lifted their glasses in turn.
"To Spike and Buffy and their newest child. May he, or she, be as happy and as healthy as the two before," Giles recited, clinking glasses with his partners.
"Hear hear," both Cyrus and Spike said in unison.
"And God help us all," Giles snarked, under his breath.
"Congratulations."
To be contd.