Author's Notes: Set four years after 'Becoming' part two. Buffy ran away, and didn't come back. Now, four years later, she's about to be reminded of who and what she really is.

Rating: PG-13. Language and strong themes. Sorry, kiddies.

Disclaimer: Nothing you recognise is mine. Don't sue, please.

Feedback: Very welcome. Constructive criticism is welcome; flames will be used to help me toast marshmallows.

Chapter Notes: Yeah, so blame Doctor Who again. I've very nearly finished this, however. I'm bad at fight scenes, and that's what I'm writing at the moment, so no promises on when it'll all be done.

Chapter Twenty-Seven: Hope
Buffy still lay on the bed, eyes closed. Spike lay half-sprawled across her, still half-kneeling on the floor.

"I know what you're feeling, pet," Spike told the petite blonde. "I felt it, when I got this bloody soul back in me. It's guilt, Buffy. S'just a regular emotion, just like lust and love and anger and happiness."

"No," Buffy shook her head, gazing up into the sky as the last rays of the sun, again, were blotted out. "This all happened, Spike. I killed them."

"No!" he stepped between her and the figment of her imagination that was the Master. "Hattie is not dead! Jake and Charlotte aren't dead, thought they're bloody brats who ought to be. And Angel is still undead."

"I killed Alex," she whispered forlornly.

"Yes. Because you had to."

"Killed him. And I watched as they killed Amelie. And I sent Angel to hell. This is all I do to everyone around me, Spike."

"Not me."

Those two simple words seemed to stump her. The dark sky seemed to shimmer.

"You've not killed me," Spike went on. "You can't kill me, Buffy. I'm already dead." He started circling her like a vulture, eyes fixed on her as she looked down at her feet. "You can't drive me away. You can't shut me out. You can't kill me, and I won't be killed in front of you. You…The first time I saw you, pet, you were dancing in the Bronze. Fire and passion and strength and power and damn me for a fool, but I wanted you so badly it scared me – and I'm not scared by a lot." He halted in front of her. "I wanted to take you and make you mine and make sure you'd never be hurt by anything."

"But it doesn't work like that," Buffy murmured, finally looking up at him.

"No," he agreed quietly. "It doesn't. But that doesn't mean we give up trying to protect the ones we love."

Her eyes widened. "Love? You – "

"Love me?"

Spike lifted his head. Buffy propped herself up with her arms and looked at him, astonished. "You love me?" she repeated.

Spike pulled himself to his feet. "Didn't say that."

"You're not denying it."

Spike shrugged uncomfortably and wouldn't look at her. "Didn't say I was." She stretched out a hand to him, and he took it, letting her pull him onto the bed. "Look, pet –"

"Spike…I loved them, too."

Spike looked sharply at her, blue eyes meeting hazel, and then a slow smile crept over his face. "Slayer…"

Buffy rolled her eyes. "By Haghd, is it really that hard to say my name?"

"Buffy."

"That's better." She tugged on his shoulder and he lay down obediently, arms automatically moving to hold her. "Spike, I'm scared."

"I know. Me too."

Buffy raised an eyebrow sceptically. "Liar."

He shook his head. "Buffy, Hattie...she's a sweet kid. And I like her. More importantly, she's part of you, and there's no way that bitch is gonna take anything more of yours."

"I don't know if I can fight her again."

"You did pretty well, pet," he pointed out.

"Not really." Buffy tucked her head under his chin. "I…there's things that…I haven't told you about me. That I haven't told anyone. Things that even the Watchers haven't figured out about slayers. I thought I'd worked it out, but I haven't, not completely. And I can't defeat Glory until I do."

"What do you need?" Spike asked softly.

"Time." She sighed. "We don't have it. But I'll settle for you."

He pulled away, faking indignation. "Settle? Settle? Just you wait, Slayer."

Buffy smiled faintly. "I love you. You know that, right? I don't know how exactly – the time we've spent together is actually, if you think about it, very little…but I do love you."

He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "I know, luv. I love you." He kissed her gently, hand tangling into her hair. "Now, pet. How're we to get Hattie back?"

Buffy moved a hand to rub her abdomen gently. The swell was more prominent in this position, and Spike could hear the baby's faint heartbeat. He had sudden image in his mind of her swollen with his own child; of tawny-haired, blue-eyed children swarming around her in the sunlight. He shook it off. It couldn't happen.

"I don't know," she was saying softly. "I think…I think I'll need help from the bond."

"They'll do anything for you."

"Yes." She closed her eyes and rested her head on his chest. "But I can't…I can't leave her there all night. Maybe I can reach her…"

Spike clasped her hand, fingers entwining. Somehow he knew what to say. "I will be your support and anchor."

Surprise lit up her face as she opened her eyes to look up at him. "I will lean on you," she finished the ritualised words. Then she closed her eyes and reached out with spirit, soul and mind to her daughter.

"Hattie? Hattie? Harriet?"

"Mommy!" The feeling of a hug drifted through the bond between mother and daughter. "Mommy!"

"I'm here, sweetheart," Buffy reassured her daughter. "I'm coming to get you just as soon as I can. Do you know where you are?"

Images of a large building, richly furnished rooms, the ground from a window, flashed between their minds.

"That's a good girl," Buffy cooed. "There's my brave girl. Are you hurt at all?"

"No. She gave me food." The taste of ice cream flooded Buffy's mouth. Hattie was better at transmitting feelings and senses than she was at actual words. "She wants to know about her." Dawn, as seen from Hattie's perspective. "But I won't say anything. She's nasty."

"That she is, pintsize." Spike had joined them somehow – Buffy didn't know how, and didn't puzzle it out. His presence was warm and supportive, and Hattie's trust flowed around him. "Are you sure she's not hurting you, pet?"

A swell of images hit them: Glory asking questions, Glory getting angry and killing a minion, Glory sending Hattie with another minion, who put her into a bed and told her to sleep. Buffy – or her body – heaved a sigh of relief.

"Listen carefully, Hattie. We'll come to get you just after dawn tomorrow. Don't tell Glory anything, but do what she tells you to. Don't give her a reason to hurt you. Like Jake tells you about the guards in the Bad Place, remember?"

"Yes."

"We love you, pintsize," Spike added seriously. "Keep holding on to that, yeah?"

"Yes, Daddy Spike."

The shock Spike felt at the name given to him by Hattie jolted them out of the trance-like link. He fell off the bed with a startled yelp. Buffy blinked down at him.

"Uh…you fell off the bed," she said innocently.

"She called me daddy."

"Yes."

"Why?"

Buffy rolled her eyes and pulled him back onto the bed. "Why not?" Spike glared at her. "She's a smart child, Spike. She sees things." She shivered suddenly. "She's special, she's my little girl…she's…she can't…" A tear drifted down her cheek, swiftly joined by others. Spike rose and gathered her into his arms.

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