Good evening, All.
And back to the story.
Thanks for your patience last week. Birthday fics are very important to me and I wanted to make my friends happy.
Hope you like the chapter. The angst is dying down a bit, but I'm sure there's more to come. Oh, and a happy ending.
Enjoy!
In Peace, Nimue "When you are sorrowful, look again in your heart and you shall see that in truth, you are weeping for that which has been your delight." Kahlil Gibran The Prophet
www.livejournal (dot) com/users/nimuetucker/ AlwaysEveryday (at) yahoogroups.com HowtoMakeaVampireSundae (at) yahoogroups.com
Title: On Winning (Chapter Thirty-one - Meant to Be)
Author: Nimue
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Spike/Buffy (Most major characters included)
Feedback: Yes, please
Disclaimer: All characters belong to someone other than me; they belong to Mutant Enemy, Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Angel the Series, Fox, UPN, WB, their affiliates, lawyers and all sorts of other folks that aren't me. :::sigh::::
Summary: The crew deals with the aftermath of what is a great loss to both Spike and Angel. Spike begins to remember what Drusilla told him before her death.
On Winning
A soft knock at the bedroom door stirred Buffy from her half-slumber. Spike's exhaustion, as well as his sense of safety wrapped around Buffy, prevented him from swimming back to reality. In his position, Buffy thought, she would probably choose to stay asleep as well.
After a prerequisite long moment to allow for decency, Cordelia cracked open the door and snapped it quietly shut behind her. Without speaking, she padded barefoot to the chair next to the bed. Spike purred, clutching tighter to Buffy's waist, and Buffy carded her hands through soft, blond locks to reassure him.
"I brought up some clothes," Cordelia whispered, arranging jeans and a gray t-shirt as well as a flannel overshirt and boxers on the chair next to the bed. "They're Wesley's. I called and asked first, you know, to prevent the British tirade when you get back." She paused for a moment, watching them. "It's the closest I could come to Spike's size. And Wes was fresh out of black...."
Buffy chuckled. "That's like... heresy to Spike." She looked over the clothes spread neatly on the chair. "You know he'll never wear the box..."
"Wesley states, and I quote, 'Spike is welcome to my clothes, however, as I'd eventually like my trousers back, be sure to take a fresh pair of under things. I'm well aware of the trappings of family, however, they do not include allowing another man's bits to flop about in one's pants', end quote," Cordelia completed, affecting her best British accent and staving off a laughing fit.
Buffy covered her mouth and shook with silent laughter. Spike growled softly and buried his head against her abdomen before settling back into sleep. Cordy watched them thoughtfully for a moment. "Weird, hunh? How we spent all our time in high school fighting Vampires and then..."
"Then we fell in love with them?" Buffy finished, voicing what Cordy couldn't, or wouldn't, say.
"In all of their irritating glory," Cordelia finally answered, letting out a breath she didn't know she'd been holding, "Speaking of the great brooding one, I'd better get back. He's..."
"Hurt," Buffy answered simply. "I know we can't understand the whole Vampire sire-childe thing, but I get loss."
A derisive snort and Cordelia agreed. "Hellmouth girl. I get loss." She turned and walked to the door, stopping briefly before turning the knob, but not looking back. "I get love and strength now too."
With that, she quietly left.
Dreams ripped through him like tornadoes. Not the kind of dreams that tell a story or pass in a nice, linear order. No, these were random images, flashing through his sleeping mind, unchecked by rational thought.
Soft. Warm. Bird heartbeat. Sweet. Vanilla. Mine. Mine.
Dark.
Dead rose falling. Shattered glass. White and black. Wind. Dust. Dust.
An angel.
White robes. Pale skin. Red lips. Dark, shining hair. Smiling.
Smiling.
Hot chocolate. White flower petals. Green ball of light. Serene white with a child inside.
Dark robes. A young, handsome face. Yellow eyes. Blood.
Darkness.
Green light. Woman.
White light. Child.
Darkness.
Protect them, my William.
The screech of a bird.
Thudding heartbeats.
A scream.
Protect them.
Buffy awoke with a start. Spike was up, bolting around the bedroom like a beast trapped in a cage, his mind too rattled to accomplish even the simplest task. His eyes flashed from blue to amber to blue in a lightshow of upset.
She propped herself up on the pillows, watching him for a moment, judging the safety of speech. Deciding that the sheer terror that poured from him in waves was worth the chance she'd catch him off guard.
"Spike?"
He stopped moving, calming just a bit from hearing her voice. "Go."
Buffy furrowed her brow. "You want me to go?"
Spike shook his head as if words had left him. "We." A pause. "Danger. Master."
She sighed, relaxing a little. "Giles had Willow set up wards before we left," Buffy comforted. "No one will get her with Willow and Tara there."
A low growl and Spike shook his head, frustrated that he couldn't speak his thoughts. He stumbled upon the clothes Cordelia had brought and began to dress hastily, tossing the boxers to the floor. "Nibblet."
Buffy sat bolt upright, swinging her legs over the side of the bed and wincing. Spike felt the wave of pain and stopped dead, moving quietly to the side of the bed and gently lifting her to her feet. Once steady, he set about gathering her clothes.
"What about Dawn?" Buffy asked, cradling her arm against her naked chest.
"Danger. Wants them. Go." Spike growled, beginning to dress her with a gentleness in direct counterpoint to his current state of confusion. Buffy didn't know if she was more afraid of what he had said, or the fact that he'd lost his ability to express himself.
Spike was never at a loss for words.
"Spike," Buffy whispered, raising her uninjured hand to touch his face. "Tell me what's wrong."
Eyelashes wet with unshed tears, he shook his head. "Please. Go first. Talk later. Please."
With a soft smile, Buffy nodded and grabbed her phone on the nightstand. "It's daylight now. I'm going to call Dawn and tell her to go to our house, okay? With Willow."
Spike nodded, kissed her forehead and bolted for the door.
"ANGEL!!!!"
They were in Angel's convertible, tearing up the five north towards Sunnydale. Buffy had given a half-explanation and Spike had commandeered Angel's car, because he didn't want to risk Buffy and their newest on the back of the motorcycle.
Angel agreed, but only on the condition that they allow him and his people to help with the situation back in Sunnydale. Grudgingly, Spike agreed, knowing that he'd have his hands full with saving their unborn. The help was almost welcome.
Giles was to leave just behind them, with Cordelia, Gunn and Fred. Angel would come after sunset, bringing Spike's favourite toy back with him.
That's when Buffy knew there was trouble. It had to be another apocalypse if Spike was letting Angel ride his motorcycle. Never mind the fear and the terror on Spike's face. Sharing with his grandsire was not something Spike had been known for.
"Can you tell me anything, Spike?" Buffy asked as he weaved in and out of the lanes of the always-congested highway.
He lifted a hand and circled it near his head. "All jumbled. Don't know, Pet."
Buffy placed a hand on his thigh and squeezed. "We can fix this, Spike. We'll win. Just try."
"We'll win," Spike repeated, remembering Dru's words. He took a deep breath, cutting off a tractor-trailer, and veering into a clear lane. "Master Vampire that did a number on your arm, love. Not after us. Not you. For once."
Buffy snorted, raising her injured arm from her chest. "Could have fooled me."
"Would help him to have us out of his hair," Spike commented, running a hand through his own tousled locks. "S'not his plan though."
"Vampire plans," Buffy sighed, shaking her head and smiling. Spike shot a half-hearted scowl at her and continued.
"Don't know the details. Don't care. He wants Emma. And he needs Dawn."
"The Key?" Buffy asked, the smile fading from her face.
Spike nodded. "And even if I did approve of the sorry sot that thinks he deserves to marry my girl, he can't protect her. Not from a Master."
Buffy nodded her agreement. "He'd die trying, though."
"Then we'd have two dead on our hands," Spike shot back, gripping the steering wheel with white knuckles.
There was a long silence before either of them spoke again. Spike weaved through traffic, finding every open spot on the highway, and making ones that hadn't been there when he changed lanes. Buffy watched the perfect blue of the Southern California sky and wondered how a place this beautiful could hide so much.
Her quiet voice broke the silence. "Did you find out anything... about..."
Spike turned his head to look at her. Really look at her. She was tired and in pain and afraid, and he'd forgotten how much she needed him. Strong and independent as she was, she was still just a young woman. One who was carrying a child, not knowing if it would live or die.
And he, in his grief and ensuing anger and fear, hadn't found the words to tell her.
Guilt struck him like a stake to the heart.
"Love," Spike breathed, pulling her closer until her hip was flush with his. She dropped her head onto his shoulder, clutching him with her good hand. "There's a way. We can save her."
Buffy breathed deeply, elated that there was going to be a way to save their child, but knowing, somewhere, there was a price to pay. "What do we have to do?"
Spike trailed a hand over her cheek as he positioned the car to take the next exit. "Something I have to do. With Emma. But we'll be fine. She'll be fine."
She shuddered, thinking about what the something could be. "I know you won't ever put Emma in a position that she won't come back from," Buffy began. "But please tell me I won't have to lose anyone in this. "
Spike glanced down at her face before turning his attention back to the road. Her eyes were dewy and she looked so... tired. "No, Pet. Not leaving you. Never leaving you."
"Promise?" Her voice was as quiet as a little girl's. "I mean, I know I'm the Slayer and I know I can survive, but I don't... I can't..."
"Next year, love," Spike began, placing a kiss on the crown of her head, "You will have another perfect daughter. Her two sibs will be equal parts pain in the arse and our salvation, and I will walk the Nibblet down the aisle even if you have to push me."
Finally, a smile, he thought, as Buffy settled in, curling her legs up on the seat next to him. "I trust you."
With another kiss atop her head, he thanked whomever it was that was watching out for them.
She trusted him to make this right.
Dammit, he would keep his word.
The house had become command central. Even Buffy and Spike had to be let through the wards, although they had no idea of this before the car was bounced back from the driveway by what was, effectively, an extremely strong, gelatinous wall. A hurried phone call inside, and a glowing hole appeared, big enough for the two of them, but not for the car.
Street parking it was.
Inside, the house was abuzz. Xander was moving furniture with Cyrus, squaring it against walls. Willow and Tara were taking inventory of magickal ingredients and poring over various and assorted protection spells. Takina was organizing medical supplies and Oz was playing world's furriest baby-sitter with the kids in the well-protected back yard.
Beds had sprung out of nowhere. Cots and sleeping bags and couches covered in blankets. Walking into the kitchen, Spike finally saw one of the two people he needed most to see at that very moment.
Dawn was unloading groceries from one of myriad paper sacks lining the counters. As she stretched up, putting away a box of chocolate pop tarts, Spike pounced her from behind, wrapping arms around her waist and tugging her fiercely close.
"What's that for?" Dawn asked cheerfully, spinning around in the embrace and returning it.
Spike studied her face, then surveyed her body for damage, then growled over at Brian, who watched the possessive display he'd seen a million times before with barely contained amusement. "You all right then, Nibblet?"
"Other than getting blasted out of bed at like 7AM by my sister and threatened on pain of death to get over here, I'm fine," Dawn whined, smiling despite her words.
"Nothing strange happened?" Spike asked, brushing her hair aside to check her neck.
Dawn chuckled. "Uh, Hellmouth. Everything's strange. And this," she countered, pushing him back so she could look him in the eye, "qualifies as strange too."
"I'll explain later," Buffy interjected, watching Spike's attention waver and begin to wander to the back door. He turned once more to Dawn.
"Sure you're all right?"
"Fine!" Dawn huffed, still frustrated. "I'm not a kid anymore."
"Got a century plus on you, Nibs. Always be a kid," Spike retorted before turning and striding towards the back door in motions as disjointed as his over-burdened mind. Buffy shook her head and went about trying to fill in a few of the blanks.
Spike wandered out into the sunlight, hearing the squeals and peals of laughter of thoroughly unscathed children. It was hard to imagine that anyone touched by this place could know such joy. Then again, all of them had found it here.
There were a lot of them now. Children of the Scoobies. Children of the One. Emma. Will. River. Randy. Kali. Loki. At least one more to come, and Spike didn't think that it'd be long before the Harris brood began expanding, and, perish the thought, Dawn'd probably make a good mum.
Two tow-headed children stopped as Spike reached the top step of the deck. Dual squeals of delight reached his ears and four small feet pounded over grass and up stairs to cling to his leg.
"Daddy!!!!!!!!" Emma squeaked, her grip as tight as iron. Will rubbed his face against the denim and smiled, a picture of quiet peace.
"Hey there, Mites," Spike said quietly, silently thanking the stars above for everything he'd been given. He dropped to a crouch, eye level with the two children still clinging to him, and pulled them both against him.
Emma stopped, her character shifting in that eerie way that they'd become so used to. As if at the flick of a switch, she could go from child to timeless. "Are you all right, Daddy?"
Spike felt the tears begin to fall, all of the loss and the fear coming out as he held the two kids fiercely tight. "Fine, Mite," he choked out, burying his face in his son's hair and feeling his daughter pepper his cheek in butterfly kisses.
"It'll be okay, Daddy," Emma comforted as Will climbed into his lap and wrapped tiny arms around his neck, making the tears come faster. Harder.
"We'll make the darkness go," Will whispered, snuggling in closer.
Emma nodded, clinging to her father. "We will, Daddy. We win. We always win."
To be contd.
And back to the story.
Thanks for your patience last week. Birthday fics are very important to me and I wanted to make my friends happy.
Hope you like the chapter. The angst is dying down a bit, but I'm sure there's more to come. Oh, and a happy ending.
Enjoy!
In Peace, Nimue "When you are sorrowful, look again in your heart and you shall see that in truth, you are weeping for that which has been your delight." Kahlil Gibran The Prophet
www.livejournal (dot) com/users/nimuetucker/ AlwaysEveryday (at) yahoogroups.com HowtoMakeaVampireSundae (at) yahoogroups.com
Title: On Winning (Chapter Thirty-one - Meant to Be)
Author: Nimue
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Spike/Buffy (Most major characters included)
Feedback: Yes, please
Disclaimer: All characters belong to someone other than me; they belong to Mutant Enemy, Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Angel the Series, Fox, UPN, WB, their affiliates, lawyers and all sorts of other folks that aren't me. :::sigh::::
Summary: The crew deals with the aftermath of what is a great loss to both Spike and Angel. Spike begins to remember what Drusilla told him before her death.
On Winning
A soft knock at the bedroom door stirred Buffy from her half-slumber. Spike's exhaustion, as well as his sense of safety wrapped around Buffy, prevented him from swimming back to reality. In his position, Buffy thought, she would probably choose to stay asleep as well.
After a prerequisite long moment to allow for decency, Cordelia cracked open the door and snapped it quietly shut behind her. Without speaking, she padded barefoot to the chair next to the bed. Spike purred, clutching tighter to Buffy's waist, and Buffy carded her hands through soft, blond locks to reassure him.
"I brought up some clothes," Cordelia whispered, arranging jeans and a gray t-shirt as well as a flannel overshirt and boxers on the chair next to the bed. "They're Wesley's. I called and asked first, you know, to prevent the British tirade when you get back." She paused for a moment, watching them. "It's the closest I could come to Spike's size. And Wes was fresh out of black...."
Buffy chuckled. "That's like... heresy to Spike." She looked over the clothes spread neatly on the chair. "You know he'll never wear the box..."
"Wesley states, and I quote, 'Spike is welcome to my clothes, however, as I'd eventually like my trousers back, be sure to take a fresh pair of under things. I'm well aware of the trappings of family, however, they do not include allowing another man's bits to flop about in one's pants', end quote," Cordelia completed, affecting her best British accent and staving off a laughing fit.
Buffy covered her mouth and shook with silent laughter. Spike growled softly and buried his head against her abdomen before settling back into sleep. Cordy watched them thoughtfully for a moment. "Weird, hunh? How we spent all our time in high school fighting Vampires and then..."
"Then we fell in love with them?" Buffy finished, voicing what Cordy couldn't, or wouldn't, say.
"In all of their irritating glory," Cordelia finally answered, letting out a breath she didn't know she'd been holding, "Speaking of the great brooding one, I'd better get back. He's..."
"Hurt," Buffy answered simply. "I know we can't understand the whole Vampire sire-childe thing, but I get loss."
A derisive snort and Cordelia agreed. "Hellmouth girl. I get loss." She turned and walked to the door, stopping briefly before turning the knob, but not looking back. "I get love and strength now too."
With that, she quietly left.
Dreams ripped through him like tornadoes. Not the kind of dreams that tell a story or pass in a nice, linear order. No, these were random images, flashing through his sleeping mind, unchecked by rational thought.
Soft. Warm. Bird heartbeat. Sweet. Vanilla. Mine. Mine.
Dark.
Dead rose falling. Shattered glass. White and black. Wind. Dust. Dust.
An angel.
White robes. Pale skin. Red lips. Dark, shining hair. Smiling.
Smiling.
Hot chocolate. White flower petals. Green ball of light. Serene white with a child inside.
Dark robes. A young, handsome face. Yellow eyes. Blood.
Darkness.
Green light. Woman.
White light. Child.
Darkness.
Protect them, my William.
The screech of a bird.
Thudding heartbeats.
A scream.
Protect them.
Buffy awoke with a start. Spike was up, bolting around the bedroom like a beast trapped in a cage, his mind too rattled to accomplish even the simplest task. His eyes flashed from blue to amber to blue in a lightshow of upset.
She propped herself up on the pillows, watching him for a moment, judging the safety of speech. Deciding that the sheer terror that poured from him in waves was worth the chance she'd catch him off guard.
"Spike?"
He stopped moving, calming just a bit from hearing her voice. "Go."
Buffy furrowed her brow. "You want me to go?"
Spike shook his head as if words had left him. "We." A pause. "Danger. Master."
She sighed, relaxing a little. "Giles had Willow set up wards before we left," Buffy comforted. "No one will get her with Willow and Tara there."
A low growl and Spike shook his head, frustrated that he couldn't speak his thoughts. He stumbled upon the clothes Cordelia had brought and began to dress hastily, tossing the boxers to the floor. "Nibblet."
Buffy sat bolt upright, swinging her legs over the side of the bed and wincing. Spike felt the wave of pain and stopped dead, moving quietly to the side of the bed and gently lifting her to her feet. Once steady, he set about gathering her clothes.
"What about Dawn?" Buffy asked, cradling her arm against her naked chest.
"Danger. Wants them. Go." Spike growled, beginning to dress her with a gentleness in direct counterpoint to his current state of confusion. Buffy didn't know if she was more afraid of what he had said, or the fact that he'd lost his ability to express himself.
Spike was never at a loss for words.
"Spike," Buffy whispered, raising her uninjured hand to touch his face. "Tell me what's wrong."
Eyelashes wet with unshed tears, he shook his head. "Please. Go first. Talk later. Please."
With a soft smile, Buffy nodded and grabbed her phone on the nightstand. "It's daylight now. I'm going to call Dawn and tell her to go to our house, okay? With Willow."
Spike nodded, kissed her forehead and bolted for the door.
"ANGEL!!!!"
They were in Angel's convertible, tearing up the five north towards Sunnydale. Buffy had given a half-explanation and Spike had commandeered Angel's car, because he didn't want to risk Buffy and their newest on the back of the motorcycle.
Angel agreed, but only on the condition that they allow him and his people to help with the situation back in Sunnydale. Grudgingly, Spike agreed, knowing that he'd have his hands full with saving their unborn. The help was almost welcome.
Giles was to leave just behind them, with Cordelia, Gunn and Fred. Angel would come after sunset, bringing Spike's favourite toy back with him.
That's when Buffy knew there was trouble. It had to be another apocalypse if Spike was letting Angel ride his motorcycle. Never mind the fear and the terror on Spike's face. Sharing with his grandsire was not something Spike had been known for.
"Can you tell me anything, Spike?" Buffy asked as he weaved in and out of the lanes of the always-congested highway.
He lifted a hand and circled it near his head. "All jumbled. Don't know, Pet."
Buffy placed a hand on his thigh and squeezed. "We can fix this, Spike. We'll win. Just try."
"We'll win," Spike repeated, remembering Dru's words. He took a deep breath, cutting off a tractor-trailer, and veering into a clear lane. "Master Vampire that did a number on your arm, love. Not after us. Not you. For once."
Buffy snorted, raising her injured arm from her chest. "Could have fooled me."
"Would help him to have us out of his hair," Spike commented, running a hand through his own tousled locks. "S'not his plan though."
"Vampire plans," Buffy sighed, shaking her head and smiling. Spike shot a half-hearted scowl at her and continued.
"Don't know the details. Don't care. He wants Emma. And he needs Dawn."
"The Key?" Buffy asked, the smile fading from her face.
Spike nodded. "And even if I did approve of the sorry sot that thinks he deserves to marry my girl, he can't protect her. Not from a Master."
Buffy nodded her agreement. "He'd die trying, though."
"Then we'd have two dead on our hands," Spike shot back, gripping the steering wheel with white knuckles.
There was a long silence before either of them spoke again. Spike weaved through traffic, finding every open spot on the highway, and making ones that hadn't been there when he changed lanes. Buffy watched the perfect blue of the Southern California sky and wondered how a place this beautiful could hide so much.
Her quiet voice broke the silence. "Did you find out anything... about..."
Spike turned his head to look at her. Really look at her. She was tired and in pain and afraid, and he'd forgotten how much she needed him. Strong and independent as she was, she was still just a young woman. One who was carrying a child, not knowing if it would live or die.
And he, in his grief and ensuing anger and fear, hadn't found the words to tell her.
Guilt struck him like a stake to the heart.
"Love," Spike breathed, pulling her closer until her hip was flush with his. She dropped her head onto his shoulder, clutching him with her good hand. "There's a way. We can save her."
Buffy breathed deeply, elated that there was going to be a way to save their child, but knowing, somewhere, there was a price to pay. "What do we have to do?"
Spike trailed a hand over her cheek as he positioned the car to take the next exit. "Something I have to do. With Emma. But we'll be fine. She'll be fine."
She shuddered, thinking about what the something could be. "I know you won't ever put Emma in a position that she won't come back from," Buffy began. "But please tell me I won't have to lose anyone in this. "
Spike glanced down at her face before turning his attention back to the road. Her eyes were dewy and she looked so... tired. "No, Pet. Not leaving you. Never leaving you."
"Promise?" Her voice was as quiet as a little girl's. "I mean, I know I'm the Slayer and I know I can survive, but I don't... I can't..."
"Next year, love," Spike began, placing a kiss on the crown of her head, "You will have another perfect daughter. Her two sibs will be equal parts pain in the arse and our salvation, and I will walk the Nibblet down the aisle even if you have to push me."
Finally, a smile, he thought, as Buffy settled in, curling her legs up on the seat next to him. "I trust you."
With another kiss atop her head, he thanked whomever it was that was watching out for them.
She trusted him to make this right.
Dammit, he would keep his word.
The house had become command central. Even Buffy and Spike had to be let through the wards, although they had no idea of this before the car was bounced back from the driveway by what was, effectively, an extremely strong, gelatinous wall. A hurried phone call inside, and a glowing hole appeared, big enough for the two of them, but not for the car.
Street parking it was.
Inside, the house was abuzz. Xander was moving furniture with Cyrus, squaring it against walls. Willow and Tara were taking inventory of magickal ingredients and poring over various and assorted protection spells. Takina was organizing medical supplies and Oz was playing world's furriest baby-sitter with the kids in the well-protected back yard.
Beds had sprung out of nowhere. Cots and sleeping bags and couches covered in blankets. Walking into the kitchen, Spike finally saw one of the two people he needed most to see at that very moment.
Dawn was unloading groceries from one of myriad paper sacks lining the counters. As she stretched up, putting away a box of chocolate pop tarts, Spike pounced her from behind, wrapping arms around her waist and tugging her fiercely close.
"What's that for?" Dawn asked cheerfully, spinning around in the embrace and returning it.
Spike studied her face, then surveyed her body for damage, then growled over at Brian, who watched the possessive display he'd seen a million times before with barely contained amusement. "You all right then, Nibblet?"
"Other than getting blasted out of bed at like 7AM by my sister and threatened on pain of death to get over here, I'm fine," Dawn whined, smiling despite her words.
"Nothing strange happened?" Spike asked, brushing her hair aside to check her neck.
Dawn chuckled. "Uh, Hellmouth. Everything's strange. And this," she countered, pushing him back so she could look him in the eye, "qualifies as strange too."
"I'll explain later," Buffy interjected, watching Spike's attention waver and begin to wander to the back door. He turned once more to Dawn.
"Sure you're all right?"
"Fine!" Dawn huffed, still frustrated. "I'm not a kid anymore."
"Got a century plus on you, Nibs. Always be a kid," Spike retorted before turning and striding towards the back door in motions as disjointed as his over-burdened mind. Buffy shook her head and went about trying to fill in a few of the blanks.
Spike wandered out into the sunlight, hearing the squeals and peals of laughter of thoroughly unscathed children. It was hard to imagine that anyone touched by this place could know such joy. Then again, all of them had found it here.
There were a lot of them now. Children of the Scoobies. Children of the One. Emma. Will. River. Randy. Kali. Loki. At least one more to come, and Spike didn't think that it'd be long before the Harris brood began expanding, and, perish the thought, Dawn'd probably make a good mum.
Two tow-headed children stopped as Spike reached the top step of the deck. Dual squeals of delight reached his ears and four small feet pounded over grass and up stairs to cling to his leg.
"Daddy!!!!!!!!" Emma squeaked, her grip as tight as iron. Will rubbed his face against the denim and smiled, a picture of quiet peace.
"Hey there, Mites," Spike said quietly, silently thanking the stars above for everything he'd been given. He dropped to a crouch, eye level with the two children still clinging to him, and pulled them both against him.
Emma stopped, her character shifting in that eerie way that they'd become so used to. As if at the flick of a switch, she could go from child to timeless. "Are you all right, Daddy?"
Spike felt the tears begin to fall, all of the loss and the fear coming out as he held the two kids fiercely tight. "Fine, Mite," he choked out, burying his face in his son's hair and feeling his daughter pepper his cheek in butterfly kisses.
"It'll be okay, Daddy," Emma comforted as Will climbed into his lap and wrapped tiny arms around his neck, making the tears come faster. Harder.
"We'll make the darkness go," Will whispered, snuggling in closer.
Emma nodded, clinging to her father. "We will, Daddy. We win. We always win."
To be contd.