Good evening, All,
Okay, so this is a little late at night for many of you, but I still managed to get it out! My betas all are having hectic weeks so I beta'd most of it myself (although thanks to Pat who managed a read through for me! I'm very appreciative!).
Anyway, angst galore, yet again. So, hang in there. This may be a tough one to read as it's very hard on poor Spikey. Things aren't likely to get much better soon.
But they will get better.
Please let me know what you think.
Also, I am looking for one beta at the moment, as one of my awesome crew had to step down for family reasons. If you are interested, please email me at nimueofavalon71 at yahoo.com!
Thank you. And without further ado. angst-o-rama.
Thank you for reading!
Happiness,
~~@ Nimue @~~
"And though she be but little, she is fierce." ~ William Shakespeare ~ A Midsummer Night's Dream
Title: Running Man (Chapter Seventeen - Meant to Be)
Author: Nimue
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Spike/Buffy (Most major characters included)
Feedback: Yes, please
For instant notification of fic releases, straight to your mailbox, please visit Always_Everyday@yahoogroups.com. Also, please visit Always_Everyday's sister group How to Make a Vampire Sundae for fiction with adult content.
The rest of the story can be found at:
and present chapters are being posted on my live journal at:
Disclaimer: All characters (save for the ones I made up) belong to someone other than me; they belong to Mutant Enemy, Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Angel the Series, Fox, WB, their affiliates, lawyers and all sorts of other folks that aren't me. :::sigh::::
Summary: Giles and Wesley finish explaining the Prophesy to a much shaken Spike. Spike takes off to look for Buffy, and finds a moment's respite before the storm.
Running Man
Spike's glare shot from where Buffy had escaped through the back door of the pub, back to the two men sitting across from him before his body could extricate itself from the booth.
A strong hand reached across the table, clamping over his shoulder. Spike's wild eyes looked at Giles, torn between sitting down like a good little William and tearing the Watcher's head off.
"We need to speak to you a moment longer," Giles' calm, English voice enunciated.
"I'll. We'll go look for her," Tara said, nodding nervously and grabbing her lover's hand, tearing her from the booth.
Spike glared at all four of them. "If a hair on her head is out of place, I'll eat you all for breakfast. Touch the child and you won't live that long."
It was a simple, growled statement. Not a threat. Not even a promise. It was almost a commandment. A law.
Tara nodded again, pulling a stunned Willow behind her, and took off towards the door.
"Spike," Giles began, drawing the angry and frightened Vampire's attention away from the fleeing girls and back to him and Wesley. "We have to talk about this rationally."
"Ha!" Spike laughed. It wasn't a sound of amusement, but rather a sound of escape and of anger. "You tell me that *my* daughter, Buffy's and mine, is evil and is going to kill us all and you want me to be rational? Is everybody here very stoned?"
"Spike," Wesley began softly.
"You!" Spike snapped, launching across the table again and wrapping his unendingly strong hand around the younger Watcher's throat. "You come here, telling us this utter crap and expect me to believe that Peaches didn't have a hand in..."
"Willow found it," Giles stated simply. Spike's gaze flashed amber and locked on Giles. The Watcher swallowed, but held his ground. "Actually, a coven we associate with in England brought the possibility to our attention, and Willow served as a conduit. I recorded it. Wesley translated that which I couldn't understand. You read it yourself, Spike. It isn't nonsense."
"And Angel knows nothing of it," Wesley added as soon as Spike loosened his grip on the younger man's windpipe. "I assure you, if he did, regardless of your past, he would do anything to save Buffy from suffering."
Spike slowly lowered himself back to his seat, trying to process that thought through his spinning brain. As much as Angel sometimes despised him, they'd reached a sort of tenuous truce since Emma had been born and since his Grandsire had taken up with Cordelia and settled into raising his own son.
Wesley was right, though. Even at their most volatile, Angel wouldn't create something that would cause Buffy so much pain. Didn't fit into his whole Champion of Atonement style.
A deep breath and Spike began to grab hold of his reeling thoughts. "Talk, then."
Wesley looked at the papers, then at Giles, then back at Spike. "The Prophesy, as you saw, seems fairly straightforward. Amazingly enough, it's not as cryptic as most."
"Not helping," Spike growled, his eyes flickering between sky blue and the dark amber of good ale. "What do we do about it?"
Giles sighed. "That's the rub, isn't it? We've pooled ideas and."
"Can't we see if Emma can go back and talk to that pretty bint that she and Cyrus work for? Mean, they're the all powerful and ."
"We've thought of that," Giles interrupted. "And it's not a bad idea; however, it only addresses part of the balance."
Spike quirked an eyebrow at the Watchers, his hand clenching and unclenching atop the table. A kind of release. The only one he could think of without beating the tar out of one of the men in front of him.
"The theory being," Wesley continued, "that for every force as powerful and positive as the Peacemaker, there must be an equal and opposite force for Evil."
"Your unborn child," Giles said quietly.
Spike tightened his jaw. "If you *ever* refer to our tot like that again, I will rip your throat out and serve it to Pony with his kibble."
Giles swallowed, nodding. "The fact being," he continued, his voice a little shakier, "that the ultimate in Good, The Queen of the Sky, can only affect the balance in one direction. She cannot address the forces of Evil directly."
"Not following," Spike snapped, annoyed.
"The forces of Evil would also have to be addressed, and convinced to drop their claim upon any child of the One," Wesley explained.
A frustrated chuckle escaped from Spike's lips. "Right. So, we toddle back down to our friend Luke's little palace of red velvet and ask him nicely to not turn our Mite into Satan incarnate. That the idea?"
"Not quite," Giles answered. "The idea is that we bring them all together in one, more neutral, place and see if we can come to an amicable resolution for all."
"Not bloody likely. What d'you plan on offering them, hmm? Blood of the innocent? Sacrificial lamb?"
"What will you do to save your child, Spike?" Wesley asked earnestly, his eyes softening at terror and heartbreak right behind the anger in Spike's eyes. "Because there is only one other option."
A yellow gaze locked in on Wesley. "Oh, yeah?"
Wesley nodded, unafraid. Spike may be a lot of things, but he was no longer a killer. Still, he could see that they all may be in for a few bruises before all was said and done. "Unfortunately, yes."
"And what might that be?" Spike growled between clenched teeth.
"If we do not try to circumvent the Prophesy by striking an agreement with the balance of forces, and possibly sacrificing our very existences, then the only other option we have is for Buffy to terminate the pregnancy."
It took less than half a second for Spike's clenched fist to travel from its resting place on the table to the spot where it connected with Wesley's jaw, sending a spray of blood from the side of his mouth. Wesley's head jerked back into the seat, Giles catching him before he fell from the booth, and came to rest against the wall. Dazed eyes danced over the table and back at Spike.
"Can't say I didn't expect that," Wesley muttered, wiping blood from the corner of his mouth. "But I dare say that you should focus your anger on those that have caused this situation, rather than those that are trying to help."
A terrifying grin broke across Spike's face. "If your idea of *helping* includes killing our *child*, then I'm thinking we don't need it."
"Spike," Giles began, his voice trying its best to be soothing.
"No," Spike interrupted simply. "No more talk. Organize this meeting that you've got all sussed out and let me, not Buffy, know how much to pay the piper. Now," he continued, standing up from his seat in the booth, "I'm going to find my girl. Don't want to hear another *word* bout any other options, 'specially not in front of her. Are we at an understanding?"
Both Watchers nodded, more afraid of the calm, cold tone that Spike had adopted than they had ever been of his anger.
"Right then." With that, Spike nodded, and disappeared out the back door.
~~~~~
Spike ran.
He ran as hard and as fast as he could from that pub, nearly knocking over holiday shoppers in his path. His feet moved at the speed of light, pounding the pavement with all the fury and anguish spreading from his heart to his very limbs. Tears streamed down his face.
For him.
For Buffy.
For their child.
As soon as he'd removed himself from the messengers, the message hit home. And the anger turned to pain and the pain to hurt, and the hurt to agony.
He stopped in an alley. He wasn't sure where. Didn't care. It was familiar and safe and he couldn't run anymore.
Slowly, Spike crumpled to his knees, tears of horror and pain streaming down his face, thoughts of Buffy. God, of Buffy lying there on some cold table, alone, having some faceless doctor. No. It couldn't. This couldn't.
There were no words.
He didn't know how long he knelt there in that alley, growling in rage and sobbing in torment before he felt a hand on his shoulder, and heard the rustle of soft skirts as a body nestled next to him, taking his head against her breast and beginning to rock him softly.
Thoughts of his mum holding him and his sister when they were wee flooded him as he cried into the soft shirt, his hands involuntarily clutching tender arms, the delicate scent of safety surrounding him. Cradling him. Letting him be weak for just a moment.
"Shhh," a sweet, gentle voice said. "I. You need this, Spike. You need to be safe here now. But as soon as this is over, I need you to be strong for Buffy, okay?"
Spike ventured a glance up, his eyes burning from hot tears. Tara held him close, rocking him, stroking his hair like a mother would a child's.
"Buffy," he whispered, his voice choked and burned.
Tara nodded. "She's not hurt. She's in there."
Another nod brought Spike's attention to a familiar back door. His senses had taken him right to her. Right to the Magic Box.
"Willow is watching her beat up a poor defenseless bag," Tara said, smiling softly.
"Should have known she'd come here," Spike answered, voice still strained, as he tried to straighten up. Tara put her hand in his; letting him cling to her, draw strength, a moment longer.
"You did know," she answered, her smile thoughtful and intuitive.
Spike tried to return it. "Guess I did." He was quiet a moment, trying to stop the unending stream of tears. "She all right?"
"No," Tara answered. "Neither are you. And how could you be? But together you're stronger."
Spike nodded. "Unbeatable."
"Then don't think this can beat you either," she said simply. "But she needs you. She wouldn't talk to us. Willow is just sitting on the couch watching her, making sure she doesn't do too much. And talking, like Willow does."
"Red's always good for that," Spike chuckled, trying to reign in his raw emotion and take control of his rattled mind. "Need to go find her."
Spike stood, offering a hand to Tara and helping her from the concrete. She stood gracefully, never taking her eyes off of Spike. "You're a good man, William," she said softly. "And Buffy is a good woman. There must be something to that. We'll find a way."
He nodded, watching her soft, comforting face trying to hide her own fear. "I want to thank you for."
Tara smiled. "Don't mention it."
Spike chuckled. "You either."
"I won't," she answered, a sly smile spreading across her gentle features. "Unless I have to."
Again, Spike let out a little laugh. "In there?" He asked, pointing toward the door.
Tara nodded as Spike walked towards it, his body tense and shaking just a bit. She watched him reach for the knob and open it, and then Willow come darting out, running in tears for Tara.
Spike looked back at the pair just once, and then took one last deep breath, summoning all his courage, and went into the training room.
To be contd.
Okay, so this is a little late at night for many of you, but I still managed to get it out! My betas all are having hectic weeks so I beta'd most of it myself (although thanks to Pat who managed a read through for me! I'm very appreciative!).
Anyway, angst galore, yet again. So, hang in there. This may be a tough one to read as it's very hard on poor Spikey. Things aren't likely to get much better soon.
But they will get better.
Please let me know what you think.
Also, I am looking for one beta at the moment, as one of my awesome crew had to step down for family reasons. If you are interested, please email me at nimueofavalon71 at yahoo.com!
Thank you. And without further ado. angst-o-rama.
Thank you for reading!
Happiness,
~~@ Nimue @~~
"And though she be but little, she is fierce." ~ William Shakespeare ~ A Midsummer Night's Dream
Title: Running Man (Chapter Seventeen - Meant to Be)
Author: Nimue
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Spike/Buffy (Most major characters included)
Feedback: Yes, please
For instant notification of fic releases, straight to your mailbox, please visit Always_Everyday@yahoogroups.com. Also, please visit Always_Everyday's sister group How to Make a Vampire Sundae for fiction with adult content.
The rest of the story can be found at:
and present chapters are being posted on my live journal at:
Disclaimer: All characters (save for the ones I made up) belong to someone other than me; they belong to Mutant Enemy, Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Angel the Series, Fox, WB, their affiliates, lawyers and all sorts of other folks that aren't me. :::sigh::::
Summary: Giles and Wesley finish explaining the Prophesy to a much shaken Spike. Spike takes off to look for Buffy, and finds a moment's respite before the storm.
Running Man
Spike's glare shot from where Buffy had escaped through the back door of the pub, back to the two men sitting across from him before his body could extricate itself from the booth.
A strong hand reached across the table, clamping over his shoulder. Spike's wild eyes looked at Giles, torn between sitting down like a good little William and tearing the Watcher's head off.
"We need to speak to you a moment longer," Giles' calm, English voice enunciated.
"I'll. We'll go look for her," Tara said, nodding nervously and grabbing her lover's hand, tearing her from the booth.
Spike glared at all four of them. "If a hair on her head is out of place, I'll eat you all for breakfast. Touch the child and you won't live that long."
It was a simple, growled statement. Not a threat. Not even a promise. It was almost a commandment. A law.
Tara nodded again, pulling a stunned Willow behind her, and took off towards the door.
"Spike," Giles began, drawing the angry and frightened Vampire's attention away from the fleeing girls and back to him and Wesley. "We have to talk about this rationally."
"Ha!" Spike laughed. It wasn't a sound of amusement, but rather a sound of escape and of anger. "You tell me that *my* daughter, Buffy's and mine, is evil and is going to kill us all and you want me to be rational? Is everybody here very stoned?"
"Spike," Wesley began softly.
"You!" Spike snapped, launching across the table again and wrapping his unendingly strong hand around the younger Watcher's throat. "You come here, telling us this utter crap and expect me to believe that Peaches didn't have a hand in..."
"Willow found it," Giles stated simply. Spike's gaze flashed amber and locked on Giles. The Watcher swallowed, but held his ground. "Actually, a coven we associate with in England brought the possibility to our attention, and Willow served as a conduit. I recorded it. Wesley translated that which I couldn't understand. You read it yourself, Spike. It isn't nonsense."
"And Angel knows nothing of it," Wesley added as soon as Spike loosened his grip on the younger man's windpipe. "I assure you, if he did, regardless of your past, he would do anything to save Buffy from suffering."
Spike slowly lowered himself back to his seat, trying to process that thought through his spinning brain. As much as Angel sometimes despised him, they'd reached a sort of tenuous truce since Emma had been born and since his Grandsire had taken up with Cordelia and settled into raising his own son.
Wesley was right, though. Even at their most volatile, Angel wouldn't create something that would cause Buffy so much pain. Didn't fit into his whole Champion of Atonement style.
A deep breath and Spike began to grab hold of his reeling thoughts. "Talk, then."
Wesley looked at the papers, then at Giles, then back at Spike. "The Prophesy, as you saw, seems fairly straightforward. Amazingly enough, it's not as cryptic as most."
"Not helping," Spike growled, his eyes flickering between sky blue and the dark amber of good ale. "What do we do about it?"
Giles sighed. "That's the rub, isn't it? We've pooled ideas and."
"Can't we see if Emma can go back and talk to that pretty bint that she and Cyrus work for? Mean, they're the all powerful and ."
"We've thought of that," Giles interrupted. "And it's not a bad idea; however, it only addresses part of the balance."
Spike quirked an eyebrow at the Watchers, his hand clenching and unclenching atop the table. A kind of release. The only one he could think of without beating the tar out of one of the men in front of him.
"The theory being," Wesley continued, "that for every force as powerful and positive as the Peacemaker, there must be an equal and opposite force for Evil."
"Your unborn child," Giles said quietly.
Spike tightened his jaw. "If you *ever* refer to our tot like that again, I will rip your throat out and serve it to Pony with his kibble."
Giles swallowed, nodding. "The fact being," he continued, his voice a little shakier, "that the ultimate in Good, The Queen of the Sky, can only affect the balance in one direction. She cannot address the forces of Evil directly."
"Not following," Spike snapped, annoyed.
"The forces of Evil would also have to be addressed, and convinced to drop their claim upon any child of the One," Wesley explained.
A frustrated chuckle escaped from Spike's lips. "Right. So, we toddle back down to our friend Luke's little palace of red velvet and ask him nicely to not turn our Mite into Satan incarnate. That the idea?"
"Not quite," Giles answered. "The idea is that we bring them all together in one, more neutral, place and see if we can come to an amicable resolution for all."
"Not bloody likely. What d'you plan on offering them, hmm? Blood of the innocent? Sacrificial lamb?"
"What will you do to save your child, Spike?" Wesley asked earnestly, his eyes softening at terror and heartbreak right behind the anger in Spike's eyes. "Because there is only one other option."
A yellow gaze locked in on Wesley. "Oh, yeah?"
Wesley nodded, unafraid. Spike may be a lot of things, but he was no longer a killer. Still, he could see that they all may be in for a few bruises before all was said and done. "Unfortunately, yes."
"And what might that be?" Spike growled between clenched teeth.
"If we do not try to circumvent the Prophesy by striking an agreement with the balance of forces, and possibly sacrificing our very existences, then the only other option we have is for Buffy to terminate the pregnancy."
It took less than half a second for Spike's clenched fist to travel from its resting place on the table to the spot where it connected with Wesley's jaw, sending a spray of blood from the side of his mouth. Wesley's head jerked back into the seat, Giles catching him before he fell from the booth, and came to rest against the wall. Dazed eyes danced over the table and back at Spike.
"Can't say I didn't expect that," Wesley muttered, wiping blood from the corner of his mouth. "But I dare say that you should focus your anger on those that have caused this situation, rather than those that are trying to help."
A terrifying grin broke across Spike's face. "If your idea of *helping* includes killing our *child*, then I'm thinking we don't need it."
"Spike," Giles began, his voice trying its best to be soothing.
"No," Spike interrupted simply. "No more talk. Organize this meeting that you've got all sussed out and let me, not Buffy, know how much to pay the piper. Now," he continued, standing up from his seat in the booth, "I'm going to find my girl. Don't want to hear another *word* bout any other options, 'specially not in front of her. Are we at an understanding?"
Both Watchers nodded, more afraid of the calm, cold tone that Spike had adopted than they had ever been of his anger.
"Right then." With that, Spike nodded, and disappeared out the back door.
~~~~~
Spike ran.
He ran as hard and as fast as he could from that pub, nearly knocking over holiday shoppers in his path. His feet moved at the speed of light, pounding the pavement with all the fury and anguish spreading from his heart to his very limbs. Tears streamed down his face.
For him.
For Buffy.
For their child.
As soon as he'd removed himself from the messengers, the message hit home. And the anger turned to pain and the pain to hurt, and the hurt to agony.
He stopped in an alley. He wasn't sure where. Didn't care. It was familiar and safe and he couldn't run anymore.
Slowly, Spike crumpled to his knees, tears of horror and pain streaming down his face, thoughts of Buffy. God, of Buffy lying there on some cold table, alone, having some faceless doctor. No. It couldn't. This couldn't.
There were no words.
He didn't know how long he knelt there in that alley, growling in rage and sobbing in torment before he felt a hand on his shoulder, and heard the rustle of soft skirts as a body nestled next to him, taking his head against her breast and beginning to rock him softly.
Thoughts of his mum holding him and his sister when they were wee flooded him as he cried into the soft shirt, his hands involuntarily clutching tender arms, the delicate scent of safety surrounding him. Cradling him. Letting him be weak for just a moment.
"Shhh," a sweet, gentle voice said. "I. You need this, Spike. You need to be safe here now. But as soon as this is over, I need you to be strong for Buffy, okay?"
Spike ventured a glance up, his eyes burning from hot tears. Tara held him close, rocking him, stroking his hair like a mother would a child's.
"Buffy," he whispered, his voice choked and burned.
Tara nodded. "She's not hurt. She's in there."
Another nod brought Spike's attention to a familiar back door. His senses had taken him right to her. Right to the Magic Box.
"Willow is watching her beat up a poor defenseless bag," Tara said, smiling softly.
"Should have known she'd come here," Spike answered, voice still strained, as he tried to straighten up. Tara put her hand in his; letting him cling to her, draw strength, a moment longer.
"You did know," she answered, her smile thoughtful and intuitive.
Spike tried to return it. "Guess I did." He was quiet a moment, trying to stop the unending stream of tears. "She all right?"
"No," Tara answered. "Neither are you. And how could you be? But together you're stronger."
Spike nodded. "Unbeatable."
"Then don't think this can beat you either," she said simply. "But she needs you. She wouldn't talk to us. Willow is just sitting on the couch watching her, making sure she doesn't do too much. And talking, like Willow does."
"Red's always good for that," Spike chuckled, trying to reign in his raw emotion and take control of his rattled mind. "Need to go find her."
Spike stood, offering a hand to Tara and helping her from the concrete. She stood gracefully, never taking her eyes off of Spike. "You're a good man, William," she said softly. "And Buffy is a good woman. There must be something to that. We'll find a way."
He nodded, watching her soft, comforting face trying to hide her own fear. "I want to thank you for."
Tara smiled. "Don't mention it."
Spike chuckled. "You either."
"I won't," she answered, a sly smile spreading across her gentle features. "Unless I have to."
Again, Spike let out a little laugh. "In there?" He asked, pointing toward the door.
Tara nodded as Spike walked towards it, his body tense and shaking just a bit. She watched him reach for the knob and open it, and then Willow come darting out, running in tears for Tara.
Spike looked back at the pair just once, and then took one last deep breath, summoning all his courage, and went into the training room.
To be contd.