Howdy, all!
YAY! I got a chapter out on time again!
:::Nim does happy dance of joy!:::
Here is installment 13 of the story, and, of course, I want to know what you think. Feedback makes me work faster.
And see, I got a little last week, so I also have a chapter of Vacation coming out on Vamp Sundae either Thursday or Friday (it's in beta now). Two chapters in one week! I haven't knocked that out in a while!
Well, enjoy and I do hope to hear back from ya!
Happiness,
~~@ Nimue @~~
"And though she be but little, she is fierce." ~ William Shakespeare ~ A Midsummer Night's Dream
Title: The Rogue (Chapter Thirteen - 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: A friend appears from LA to help Willow and Giles with the Prophesy. Buffy and Spike are oblivious, at this point, to the danger Buffy and her unborn child may be in.
The Rogue
It was late in the morning when Oz heard a knock on the door. He stirred from his sleeping bag on the floor of the babies' room. Emma made a faint noise and rolled over. Will was snoring a quiet, gentle snore and the twins were utterly undisturbed by the noise.
Footsteps padded through the living room and Oz decided it was best to lie low, for the time being. Stay with his miniature charges. It was best if someone was there to protect them. There were some major goings-on in Sunnydale and he knew that his part was second string. He'd never been a whiz with computers or a mystical encyclopedia, whether or not he was now a mystical creature. His life had become music and the twins, and Willow and Tara.
And he was damned happy for it.
Oz surveyed the room once again and closed his eyes. This was his place and this was where he belonged.
~~~~~~
Giles rubbed his eyes from his makeshift bed on the couch. The knocking grew more insistent. He heard rustling in the women's bedroom, but no one was up to answer the door. With a sigh, he stood, still in his untucked white shirt and dark brown pants, and made his way barefoot to the door.
He opened it only as far as the chain would allow, trying to focus. "Hello?"
"Oh, let me in, silly," Anya's voice said from the other side of the door. "I miss you and I want to cuddle."
Giles smiled through his relative annoyance and unchained the door. Anya stood, an overnight bag in hand, Randy on her hip and a look of exhaustion in her eyes.
"You all right?" Giles asked, taking Randy and putting his hand on her shoulder.
"I couldn't sleep," Anya answered, looking for all the world like a little girl. "I can't sleep when you're not there. Can I stay here with you?"
Giles chuckled, kissing his son gently, and guided her to the couch. "Of course, dear. Although there isn't much room."
"I can sleep on the floor," Anya countered, looking exhausted. She paused, holding the bag out to him. "I brought you PJ's and clothes. I knew you wouldn't want to sleep in the nude here."
Again, Giles chuckled, kissing her cheek. "It's almost morning, Anya. But thank you."
As he arranged his wife and son on the couch, another knock came at the door. The Watcher sighed, running a hand through his hair, and heading back to the door, opening it wider this time.
In front of him, completely changed from the last time they'd seen each other, was Wesley.
~~~~~
"Wesley," Giles said, his shock at the once prim and proper Watcher audible.
Wesley nodded, a leather satchel in one hand, a duffle in the other. "I came as quickly as I could."
Giles motioned the former Watcher into the entryway, still regarding him with awe and confusion. As they rounded the corner to the living room, Willow stood at the edge of the room, a robe of red silk tied around her. Her jaw dropped open and she positively gaped.
"Willow, you remember Wesley Wyndam-Price," Giles said softly. Anya was already snoring on the couch, wrapped around her son.
Willow nodded, inspecting the man from a distance. "Ye.yes. But.but he wasn't."
"A lot has happened since we last met," Wesley answered, setting his bag down neatly by the wall.
"I'd say," Willow responded.
The man before them was no longer the buttoned up Watcher type. He was rugged and handsome, his hair a bit disheveled in a controlled way. Like he'd gotten into some of Angel's hair gel.
His clothes were different too. Deep brown corduroy slacks and beaten up boots. A thick brown belt and a loose white button down, open a few buttons more than proper. His face was weathered and faint stubble grew over his cheeks and chin. Wesley was lean and muscular now, built a little like Spike only taller. A wide scar went around his neck, stopping at the hollow of his throat.
"Um." Willow began, involuntarily running a hand through her hair in a nervous gesture. This man was almost enough to make her question the team for which she currently played.
Almost, but not quite.
"Hello," Wesley said softly, walking towards the girl and shaking her hand.
"You look. different."
"As I said, a lot has happened," Wesley responded, no apparent smile on his face, but his voice was warm and welcoming.
Tara stumbled into the room, a longer, pale blue terry robe around her. "Oh," she muttered as she saw the man. It was all that she could think of to say.
"Wesley," the former Watcher said, jutting his hand towards the girl. She shook it pensively, her breath caught in her throat.
A voice from behind them spoke up. "Wesley, it seems that we have a Prophesy concerning The One that we. well, we need some help with," Giles said, moving closer to the rest, still disconcerted by the change in his former protégé.
Wesley turned to Giles. "So you said on the phone. I've been following your notes on the One as you sent them. I thank you for that. It's helpful to have all of the information from the Hellmouth in LA, although I cannot say that Angel has gotten any better about the situation with Buffy and Spike."
Giles chortled, shaking his head. "We live in the midst of it and often have trouble," he responded. "But they are happy and their children, The Peacemaker, are well taken care of."
Wesley nodded. "I've no doubt. "
"Besides," Willow began, "I thought Angel and Cordelia."
Wesley smiled softly. "Ah yes, our own resident Honeymooners. It's quite a show."
Willow chuckled, thinking of how the brooding Angel and the hyper, trendy Cordelia would fit. Apparently, it was working as well.
"I did think that you had very little need for a specialist in mystical languages here, what with your very own Emissary to the Queen as well as Spike's gift as part of the One," Wesley commented, laying his satchel down on the glass dining room table.
"I'll go make some coffee," Tara commented, feeling like she'd pretty much been designated as snack girl for this mission. Willow took her hand, squeezing it, and smiled.
"Thank you, baby."
That was enough to make Tara happy in anything she did.
Wesley watched the exchange with a detached amazement, as Tara kissed Willow gently on the lips and went to the kitchen. It seemed that many things had changed since he'd last been here.
Giles fetched the printouts while Willow got some of their texts and Giles filled Wesley in. "To answer your question, Cyrus, the Emissary and Emma's Watcher, has looked at the samples we sent him, and all he could say was that he thought that the language employed an obscure Runic alphabet, probably used by Priestesses during the Arthurian era. As their culture was quite discreet."
"Because of the transition to Christianity," Wesley surmised, taking the printouts from Giles and beginning to arrange them on the table in front of him.
"Right. So there is little if any record as to translation," Giles continued.
Wesley looked at the layout of the Runes and sighed. "Offhand, I cannot say, but given a little time, I can probably come up with something." He looked up at Giles. "So why not bring Spike into this? I thought that as part of the One, he was granted his father's skill with linguistics."
Giles sighed. "Well, I've no doubt he could probably read it. He has not failed on any language or any text we've shown him thus far. However, the Prophesy is. sensitive. I do not want to show it to him, or have it get back to Buffy. Not until we're sure."
"Sure?" The former Watcher asked, quirking an eyebrow at Giles.
Again, Giles sighed, lowering into a chair next to Wesley. "You see, Buffy is carrying a third child."
"What?" Wesley asked, a quick intake of breath putting an exclamation point on his shock. "How is that possible?"
"Heavens knows with them," Giles answered, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "But she is."
"The One was only meant to produce the one child. The Peacemaker," Wesley continued, re-arranging the Runes as he spoke.
A feminine laugh broke the intensity. Willow and Tara returned with the coffee and some toast. "Buffy's never been one to follow the old Prophetic rules," Willow joked, sliding into a chair across from the men, Tara at her side.
Wesley smiled at the woman. A broad, beautiful smile, making both of them gulp. "No, I don't suppose she has."
"This Prophesy, we think," Giles began again, "has to do with a child of evil born unto the One. A child who will ultimately destroy her family. The Peacemaker. The One itself."
Wesley looked at Giles, a flash of fear in his eyes. "We can't let that happen, Rupert. You know that."
"We know that we need to find a way around this," Willow commented, her maternal protection instinct taking over. "We need to find a way for Buffy to have this baby safely. So we need to know what the Prophesy says and find its weakness."
Wesley nodded at the woman, realizing that there was going to be no easy way out on this one. They were not going to let the obvious solution come to fruition, and he and the rest were going to have to tear this thing apart to find another answer. "I'll do my best."
"Thank you," Willow answered, taking a sip of her coffee. "Now, what can we do to help?"
~~~~~~
Spike woke up and stretched, feeling pebbles of sand still stuck to his back. He chuckled, visions of the pier crumbling like the Titanic into the sea running through his head. He and Buffy were no good at being discreet.
A shot of guilt flowed through him as he remembered Dawn's ire at having to rescue them. Going to have to send some flowers, he thought. Lots and lots of flowers. Gerber daisies. She always liked them. Just like her sis.
Buffy.
Spike rolled over and watched her. She was curled on her side, the graceful curve of her back facing him. Her long hair was tangled with sand and sea water, and her golden body had little scratch marks all over from rough housing in the coarse sand. But she was beautiful. Always so beautiful.
Spike scooted closer, spooning against her from behind. She let out a little satisfied grumble and pushed her warm body against his, fitting in perfectly. His hands lazily grazed her skin, feeling her softness. Her warmth. Touching as much as he could of her. Reminding himself that it was real. This was all real. Sometimes, that thought alone amazed him.
His hand stopped involuntarily over her belly, his fingers splayed, touching, feeling. Buffy's eyes fluttered open and she laid a gentle hand atop his, letting her fingers caress his skin.
"Morning," she whispered, craning her neck to catch his lips and plant a gentle kiss.
"Morning, Pet," he answered, showering butterfly kisses on her neck. "How're my girls this morning?"
Her hand led his in gentle circles around her belly. "A little embarrassed. A little ecstatic. A lot hungry. Oh, and itchy. Did I mention itchy?"
Spike chuckled. "Why don't we head into the shower, and then I'll make the both of you anything you want for breakfast?"
Buffy hummed with satisfaction. "Yummy."
"That'd be you, Pet," Spike commented, nibbling at the skin of her shoulder. She melted back into him.
"You know what?" Buffy said as his mouth explored the backs of her arms, her shoulders, back to her neck.
"What's that, Love?"
"Breakfast can wait."
To be contd.
YAY! I got a chapter out on time again!
:::Nim does happy dance of joy!:::
Here is installment 13 of the story, and, of course, I want to know what you think. Feedback makes me work faster.
And see, I got a little last week, so I also have a chapter of Vacation coming out on Vamp Sundae either Thursday or Friday (it's in beta now). Two chapters in one week! I haven't knocked that out in a while!
Well, enjoy and I do hope to hear back from ya!
Happiness,
~~@ Nimue @~~
"And though she be but little, she is fierce." ~ William Shakespeare ~ A Midsummer Night's Dream
Title: The Rogue (Chapter Thirteen - 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: A friend appears from LA to help Willow and Giles with the Prophesy. Buffy and Spike are oblivious, at this point, to the danger Buffy and her unborn child may be in.
The Rogue
It was late in the morning when Oz heard a knock on the door. He stirred from his sleeping bag on the floor of the babies' room. Emma made a faint noise and rolled over. Will was snoring a quiet, gentle snore and the twins were utterly undisturbed by the noise.
Footsteps padded through the living room and Oz decided it was best to lie low, for the time being. Stay with his miniature charges. It was best if someone was there to protect them. There were some major goings-on in Sunnydale and he knew that his part was second string. He'd never been a whiz with computers or a mystical encyclopedia, whether or not he was now a mystical creature. His life had become music and the twins, and Willow and Tara.
And he was damned happy for it.
Oz surveyed the room once again and closed his eyes. This was his place and this was where he belonged.
~~~~~~
Giles rubbed his eyes from his makeshift bed on the couch. The knocking grew more insistent. He heard rustling in the women's bedroom, but no one was up to answer the door. With a sigh, he stood, still in his untucked white shirt and dark brown pants, and made his way barefoot to the door.
He opened it only as far as the chain would allow, trying to focus. "Hello?"
"Oh, let me in, silly," Anya's voice said from the other side of the door. "I miss you and I want to cuddle."
Giles smiled through his relative annoyance and unchained the door. Anya stood, an overnight bag in hand, Randy on her hip and a look of exhaustion in her eyes.
"You all right?" Giles asked, taking Randy and putting his hand on her shoulder.
"I couldn't sleep," Anya answered, looking for all the world like a little girl. "I can't sleep when you're not there. Can I stay here with you?"
Giles chuckled, kissing his son gently, and guided her to the couch. "Of course, dear. Although there isn't much room."
"I can sleep on the floor," Anya countered, looking exhausted. She paused, holding the bag out to him. "I brought you PJ's and clothes. I knew you wouldn't want to sleep in the nude here."
Again, Giles chuckled, kissing her cheek. "It's almost morning, Anya. But thank you."
As he arranged his wife and son on the couch, another knock came at the door. The Watcher sighed, running a hand through his hair, and heading back to the door, opening it wider this time.
In front of him, completely changed from the last time they'd seen each other, was Wesley.
~~~~~
"Wesley," Giles said, his shock at the once prim and proper Watcher audible.
Wesley nodded, a leather satchel in one hand, a duffle in the other. "I came as quickly as I could."
Giles motioned the former Watcher into the entryway, still regarding him with awe and confusion. As they rounded the corner to the living room, Willow stood at the edge of the room, a robe of red silk tied around her. Her jaw dropped open and she positively gaped.
"Willow, you remember Wesley Wyndam-Price," Giles said softly. Anya was already snoring on the couch, wrapped around her son.
Willow nodded, inspecting the man from a distance. "Ye.yes. But.but he wasn't."
"A lot has happened since we last met," Wesley answered, setting his bag down neatly by the wall.
"I'd say," Willow responded.
The man before them was no longer the buttoned up Watcher type. He was rugged and handsome, his hair a bit disheveled in a controlled way. Like he'd gotten into some of Angel's hair gel.
His clothes were different too. Deep brown corduroy slacks and beaten up boots. A thick brown belt and a loose white button down, open a few buttons more than proper. His face was weathered and faint stubble grew over his cheeks and chin. Wesley was lean and muscular now, built a little like Spike only taller. A wide scar went around his neck, stopping at the hollow of his throat.
"Um." Willow began, involuntarily running a hand through her hair in a nervous gesture. This man was almost enough to make her question the team for which she currently played.
Almost, but not quite.
"Hello," Wesley said softly, walking towards the girl and shaking her hand.
"You look. different."
"As I said, a lot has happened," Wesley responded, no apparent smile on his face, but his voice was warm and welcoming.
Tara stumbled into the room, a longer, pale blue terry robe around her. "Oh," she muttered as she saw the man. It was all that she could think of to say.
"Wesley," the former Watcher said, jutting his hand towards the girl. She shook it pensively, her breath caught in her throat.
A voice from behind them spoke up. "Wesley, it seems that we have a Prophesy concerning The One that we. well, we need some help with," Giles said, moving closer to the rest, still disconcerted by the change in his former protégé.
Wesley turned to Giles. "So you said on the phone. I've been following your notes on the One as you sent them. I thank you for that. It's helpful to have all of the information from the Hellmouth in LA, although I cannot say that Angel has gotten any better about the situation with Buffy and Spike."
Giles chortled, shaking his head. "We live in the midst of it and often have trouble," he responded. "But they are happy and their children, The Peacemaker, are well taken care of."
Wesley nodded. "I've no doubt. "
"Besides," Willow began, "I thought Angel and Cordelia."
Wesley smiled softly. "Ah yes, our own resident Honeymooners. It's quite a show."
Willow chuckled, thinking of how the brooding Angel and the hyper, trendy Cordelia would fit. Apparently, it was working as well.
"I did think that you had very little need for a specialist in mystical languages here, what with your very own Emissary to the Queen as well as Spike's gift as part of the One," Wesley commented, laying his satchel down on the glass dining room table.
"I'll go make some coffee," Tara commented, feeling like she'd pretty much been designated as snack girl for this mission. Willow took her hand, squeezing it, and smiled.
"Thank you, baby."
That was enough to make Tara happy in anything she did.
Wesley watched the exchange with a detached amazement, as Tara kissed Willow gently on the lips and went to the kitchen. It seemed that many things had changed since he'd last been here.
Giles fetched the printouts while Willow got some of their texts and Giles filled Wesley in. "To answer your question, Cyrus, the Emissary and Emma's Watcher, has looked at the samples we sent him, and all he could say was that he thought that the language employed an obscure Runic alphabet, probably used by Priestesses during the Arthurian era. As their culture was quite discreet."
"Because of the transition to Christianity," Wesley surmised, taking the printouts from Giles and beginning to arrange them on the table in front of him.
"Right. So there is little if any record as to translation," Giles continued.
Wesley looked at the layout of the Runes and sighed. "Offhand, I cannot say, but given a little time, I can probably come up with something." He looked up at Giles. "So why not bring Spike into this? I thought that as part of the One, he was granted his father's skill with linguistics."
Giles sighed. "Well, I've no doubt he could probably read it. He has not failed on any language or any text we've shown him thus far. However, the Prophesy is. sensitive. I do not want to show it to him, or have it get back to Buffy. Not until we're sure."
"Sure?" The former Watcher asked, quirking an eyebrow at Giles.
Again, Giles sighed, lowering into a chair next to Wesley. "You see, Buffy is carrying a third child."
"What?" Wesley asked, a quick intake of breath putting an exclamation point on his shock. "How is that possible?"
"Heavens knows with them," Giles answered, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "But she is."
"The One was only meant to produce the one child. The Peacemaker," Wesley continued, re-arranging the Runes as he spoke.
A feminine laugh broke the intensity. Willow and Tara returned with the coffee and some toast. "Buffy's never been one to follow the old Prophetic rules," Willow joked, sliding into a chair across from the men, Tara at her side.
Wesley smiled at the woman. A broad, beautiful smile, making both of them gulp. "No, I don't suppose she has."
"This Prophesy, we think," Giles began again, "has to do with a child of evil born unto the One. A child who will ultimately destroy her family. The Peacemaker. The One itself."
Wesley looked at Giles, a flash of fear in his eyes. "We can't let that happen, Rupert. You know that."
"We know that we need to find a way around this," Willow commented, her maternal protection instinct taking over. "We need to find a way for Buffy to have this baby safely. So we need to know what the Prophesy says and find its weakness."
Wesley nodded at the woman, realizing that there was going to be no easy way out on this one. They were not going to let the obvious solution come to fruition, and he and the rest were going to have to tear this thing apart to find another answer. "I'll do my best."
"Thank you," Willow answered, taking a sip of her coffee. "Now, what can we do to help?"
~~~~~~
Spike woke up and stretched, feeling pebbles of sand still stuck to his back. He chuckled, visions of the pier crumbling like the Titanic into the sea running through his head. He and Buffy were no good at being discreet.
A shot of guilt flowed through him as he remembered Dawn's ire at having to rescue them. Going to have to send some flowers, he thought. Lots and lots of flowers. Gerber daisies. She always liked them. Just like her sis.
Buffy.
Spike rolled over and watched her. She was curled on her side, the graceful curve of her back facing him. Her long hair was tangled with sand and sea water, and her golden body had little scratch marks all over from rough housing in the coarse sand. But she was beautiful. Always so beautiful.
Spike scooted closer, spooning against her from behind. She let out a little satisfied grumble and pushed her warm body against his, fitting in perfectly. His hands lazily grazed her skin, feeling her softness. Her warmth. Touching as much as he could of her. Reminding himself that it was real. This was all real. Sometimes, that thought alone amazed him.
His hand stopped involuntarily over her belly, his fingers splayed, touching, feeling. Buffy's eyes fluttered open and she laid a gentle hand atop his, letting her fingers caress his skin.
"Morning," she whispered, craning her neck to catch his lips and plant a gentle kiss.
"Morning, Pet," he answered, showering butterfly kisses on her neck. "How're my girls this morning?"
Her hand led his in gentle circles around her belly. "A little embarrassed. A little ecstatic. A lot hungry. Oh, and itchy. Did I mention itchy?"
Spike chuckled. "Why don't we head into the shower, and then I'll make the both of you anything you want for breakfast?"
Buffy hummed with satisfaction. "Yummy."
"That'd be you, Pet," Spike commented, nibbling at the skin of her shoulder. She melted back into him.
"You know what?" Buffy said as his mouth explored the backs of her arms, her shoulders, back to her neck.
"What's that, Love?"
"Breakfast can wait."
To be contd.