Title: Dealing (The Peacemaker Prophesy, pt 9)

Author: Nimue

Rating: PG-13

Feedback: Yes, please

Disclaimer: All characters belong to Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, UPN, Fox... Just Borrowing.

Summary: Buffy and Spike are faced with making deals they don't want to

make.

Dealing

The knock at the door of the crypt was soft, almost polite. Spike stopped, his duster hanging off of one shoulder. He was just getting ready to go... do something. His first thought, What in bloody hell is she doing here? As he opened the door, it was followed closely by the words, "What in bloody hell are *you* doing here?"

"I thought you may have reconsidered," Simon said quietly.

"Why would I go and do a stupid, sodding thing like that?" Spike hissed, pulling on his coat and leaning into the doorframe.

"Because we want the same thing."

"And what's that?" Spike snapped.

"My employer wants the child dead. You said yourself you wanted to punish the Slayer." Spike had to concentrate on not dismembering the vampire in front of him. No one was touching either of them. But this... horror... is what he was here for.

"Seems as if we have different ideas," Spike said harshly.

"Yes, but to the same end. Not to mention that the rewards are great with my employer."

"Medical? Dental?" Spike snarked, smirking at the boy.

"Power," Simon said wondrously.

"What sort?"

"The sort that changes the rules," Simon answered, slipping into an almost bliss-like state.

"Never said I wanted power. Just the Slayer." That was easier to say. He did want Buffy. Every day.

"And you'll have her," Simon responded, snapping back to reality. "If you help us with the child, we can help you capture and kill the Slayer."

"So, what does this Wanker want from me?" Spike asked, sick of riddles.

Needed information. He lit a cigarette and rested his back against the

doorframe.

"To watch her. He wants to know her every move, her every pattern, from

dusk to dawn."

"I *can* walk in the day," Spike said, trying to bait the boy into giving away something, anything.

"The child is less defended at night. We need to know the Slayer's every move so that we know when to make ours."

Spike thought a moment. What about the Poof? Some nasty little itch in his brain was telling him the boy was lying about something. "Right then. What do I get in return?"

"The Slayer. We can even disable her."

"Don't need her disabled," Spike said, insulted both by the thought and the implication.

"Any way you would like."

"Not enough," Spike snapped, stomping out the cigarette.

"What do you want?" Simon asked.

Bloody hell, asked for this, Spike thought, having *no* idea how to answer Simon's question. Hell, go with what he wanted least. "Want the demon again. None of this human... nightmare. Want to be the bloody dark warrior again."

"Complete your task, and the master will turn you himself," Simon answered smiling and holding out his hand. Spike didn't want to touch him. Didn't want to agree to any of this. But he shook. Had to look good.

"I will send a team to hunt with you."

"A team?" Spike sputtered, disgusted. " I hunted her for years. I can

hunt her alone."

"The master will want proof that you are truly with us," Simon said.

Spike was thoughtful. This was going to be harder than he thought. Always was. Just want to go home. Want to hold Emma. Want to feel Buffy next to me. Sodding stupid Watcher and his plan. "Fine then. Send your men. But I get the Slayer." Because I won't hurt her. Because I know exactly how much she can take, he thought.

"Right," Simon agreed. With that, he turned on his heels and walked off.



*****

"Buffy?" Tara called. "You still here?"

Buffy jogged into Emma's room. Tara stood by the crib, staring wildly at the window in that now familiar combination of terror and wonder. "What's wrong?" she asked, her heart sinking. She moved to the edge of the crib, looking in. Emma was giggling, lying on her back, arms outstretched towards the window. Tara seemed caught in a trance.

Buffy's eyes floated to the sill. The butterflies were back, standing

outside the glass, staring in. Her heart began to beat again.

"They're fairies," Buffy said softly.

"I know," Tara answered, touching the glass. They fluttered against her

palm.

"Tara?" Buffy asked, touching the witch's other hand.

"They... they're talking."

"Talking?"

"Mostly to Emma, but some to me."

"But I can't hear anything," Buffy muttered. The window was closed.

"It's.. in my head," Tara answered, furrowing her brow. She didn't quite understand herself.

"Well," Buffy the pragmatist began, "what are they saying?"

"Mostly they're telling Emma that they're her friends. That they serve her. More than anything, they are singing and making silly noises," Tara said, smiling.

"That would account for the giggliness," Buffy said smiling down at the

little girl and gently tickling her stomach, causing a barrage of riotous baby laughter.

"And they're telling me to ask you to please open the window so that they can visit."

Buffy's face became tight. It was warm out, but she had no idea what the creatures truly were. What they meant to do to her baby. Spike's voice echoed in her head. "Harmless. Seem they're meant to help her... in her quest." But then there was the time being frozen bit.

"Tara, can you talk back?"

"I think so," Tara answered serenely, still entranced by the fluttering of the beautiful, coloured wings.

"Ask them if they really mean to help her?"

Tara was silent a moment. "They said it is their duty. She is their

leader."

"Leader?" Buffy asked. Not the best time for arguments. "Ask them if they can leave time alone."

"Leave time alone?" Tara repeated.

"Just ask, " Buffy huffed, hands on her hips.

Again, Tara was silent. "Of course," she answered. "For now."

Buffy shrugged and leaned over the crib, cracking the window. One of the fairies hopped into her hand and curled up. She smiled, realizing that the little creature had kissed her palm.

*****

Spike followed all the familiar routes, staying just off the path. Out of the lights. Neither hide nor hair of his Slayer. Running late?, he

thought. Doubt crept in. The little monster of his insecurity took hold.

Quiet night at home with the Poof?

Bloody Hell.

Emma, he thought. What if something happened? What if she was hurt, or

sick, or...? He was in a jog toward Revello, realizing right before his

foot hit the pool of light from the street lamp that if he crossed the

street, if he stepped into the light, it was all for naught. Spike stepped back into the darkness and stood staring a moment, before he turned back into the night.

He found himself at Willie's. Not a place where he had won a lot of popular acclaim in recent years, but word had spread fast that he had turned on the Slayer and was now under the protection of the mysterious Wankers-that-Be.

Spike sat down on a barstool and ordered a whiskey, watching the demons

around him.

"Buy you a drink?" A pretty female Vampire sat down next to him. His

stomach rolled. Not what he wanted to see. The scent of a woman led him back to lonely thoughts of Buffy.

"No need, Pet," Spike answered, swirling a half-full water glass full of

whiskey and watching it coat the inside of the cup.

"Looks like you could use another. Big things on your mind," she said

sweetly.

"Got my problems," he said, taking a swig. The bartender approached,

setting two more glasses on the bar in front of them.

"The Slayer," she said, still smiling softly.

"What? Does everyone in this town know about my bleeding private life?"

Spike snarled, finishing the glass in one large gulp. The girl chuckled.

"Not every Vampire falls in love with a Slayer. More importantly, not every Slayer loves them back. Enough to have a child of a demon."

Emma's not... he thought. "Guess not," Spike said, picking up the second glass.

"Not to mention that the female Vampire population sunk into a deep state of mourning when you chose a human," she quipped, a blush painting her face along with the sickly sweet smile. Spike grinned back at her.

"Quite the catch, am I?" he snarked, taking another gulp of the amber

liquid.

"Quite," she responded, putting her hand on his knee. He shuddered, an

unpleasant tingle at the base of his neck. "And now you're back where you belong."

Belong. Is this where I belong? Spike questioned. He thought of Buffy's faced etched in his mind. No. He knew where he belonged.

"Not a talker?" the pretty Vampire asked, breaking Spike's reverie.

"Ha!" he laughed. "No one's said that bout me."

"You'll like working for the master."

Spike's head swiveled. She now had his complete attention. "You work for him...too?"

"In my own way," she said, her smile becoming sly. She uncrossed her legs, letting her knees fall apart, then crossed them again.

"Ah," Spike answered, now considering hacking her arm off in order to have her hand removed from his knee.

"He's kind to those who serve him well."

"Not really serving him," Spike commented, thoughtfully. "More of a

partnership. Mutual means to an end."

The girl smiled at Spike. "You work for him," she said, squeezing his knee. "You're a pawn just like the rest of us. You just don't know it yet."

The girl set a ten on the bar and stood to leave, trailing her hands over Spike's shoulders as she walked past. They felt like death.

***********

"Slow night," Buffy said to Angel as they walked the last leg of the

cemetery path. Something felt wrong. Even the constantly vigilant eyes

seemed to have disappeared.

"Moon turns full later tonight. Maybe they're resting up," Angel commented.

"They're not werewolves," Buffy joked.

"The moon effects us all. Almost three nights it's full," he said looking up at the sky.

"Don't start howling," she chided, stepping onto the sidewalk outside the graveyard. Her tone slowly became more serious. "I dunno. Something feels... strange."

"I know," Angel agreed.

"The whole 'something wicked this way comes' vibe."

"Get that from Spike?"

"Dunno," Buffy answered thoughtfully. "Why?"

"Loved Ray Bradbury. That and sappy love poetry," Angel commented.

Buffy giggled. The thought of big bad Spike sitting in his easy chair

reading a novel was... well, come to think of it, it was what he was doing last week. "Maybe I did," Buffy replied. "Wherever it came from, it seems to apply here."

"Guess we'll have to keep our eyes open."

"You keep *your* eyes open," Buffy yawned. " I am going to stretch out in that recliner and curl around a nice warm baby and take a nap."

They started up the front walk. "I miss that," Angel said quietly.

"Miss what?" Buffy answered, praying he wasn't about to launch into past memories of curling up with her. Just wanted to nap with Emma.

"Connor," he muttered. "Cordy and I used to.."

"Cordy?" Buffy asked, stopping on the doorstep. "And you?"

"Not like that," Angel said, shyly. Well, maybe a little, he thought.

Buffy felt something. A fleeting little something. Not jealousy, but that feeling you get when suddenly it occurs to you that life does not revolve around just your little corner of existence. "Good," she said smiling. Maybe there were happy endings. "Cordelia help you with.."

"Yeah," Angel answered. "She was good to him. Pretty much his mother.

She's changed. A lot."

"Seems to be a lot of that going around," Buffy said, walking through the door.

To be contd.

Title: Until We Meet Again (The Peacemaker Prophesy, pt 10)

Author: Nimue

Rating: PG-13

Feedback: Yes, please

Disclaimer: All characters belong to Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, UPN, Fox... Just Borrowing.

Summary: Spike is reunited with Buffy and Emma, but only for a short time. Gwydion makes his move.

Until We Meet Again

Morning could not have come soon enough. All night, Buffy had thought of Spike. Talking to Angel had only served to remind her of how much she had and how much she had to lose. It was becoming easier to talk to Angel, but she didn't have to speak to Spike. He was in her head. Always.

There had been seven tiny sentries above Emma's crib, sitting on the

windowsill, lazily fluttering their hypnotic wings. Buffy smiled at them and they danced along the sill in the sunlight. "Hi, there," she whispered to them as they moved, "and hi to you," she said, lifting her little daughter from the crib and pulling her against her chest. "Big day. Going to see daddy," she whispered, trying not to rush, but feeling herself trembling with anticipation. How did he have this effect on her? The fairies fluttered one last time, then scooted back into the sunlight once Emma was safely with mother.



Buffy was dressed and showered in record time and on to getting Emma fed and dressed as quickly as the baby would allow. The Magic Box opened at nine AM and Buffy had every intention of being there as Anya opened the doors. It felt like a first date. Her heart was pumping, her palms sweaty, her nerves firing like little pistons. Felt good to be alive.

The walk to the Magic Box seemed as if it lasted an eternity. Xander had insisted on walking with her, just because an extra set of eyes had never hurt. He took turns pushing the stroller, making goofy but entertaining noises for the baby the entire way. Not that she ever needed much help in the helpless giggling department. Emma was quite possibly the most content child any of them had ever seen. Then again, Buffy thought, she had one of the most content mothers since Spike had decided to stay. Felt good to admit it.

Emma was fascinated by absolutely everything in sight. She never got to go far. Not with the constant threat looming on the horizon. Buffy remembered Spike's words when Giles had told them about the prophesy. 'The real train wreck would be to not let her live like a child.' Buffy made a mental note to take Emma out more. Can't live locked in a house for all eternity. Never worked for Buffy. Doubted it would work for her daughter.

Anya was just unlocking the doors as Buffy, Xander and Emma rolled up.

"You're here early," she chirped, pressing onto her toes to kiss Xander's cheek.

"Thought I could fit in a little training while you and Xander watch Emma," Buffy answered before Xander could think of a response. Inquiring ears want to know.

"Right, sure," Anya whispered, swinging open the door.

As soon as the door jingled shut behind them, Buffy had freed Emma from the stroller and had her balanced on her hip. "Leave the blinds down please," she said hastily as she darted for the basement door.

"Have a nice day," Anya called behind her, watching the door slam in record time.

*****

The blue sedan shuddered to a halt in front of the Revello address. The

sandy haired man with his perfectly polished shoes took a deep breath,

pulling air into his newly pink lungs. He tucked the keys in his pocket and let the door swing to the curb. Even through dark sunglasses, the world seemed unnecessarily bright. Sharp. Hard. The car door clicked shut behind him and he stepped onto the walk in front of the Slayer's home.

Report card writing day. One of the wonders of the public school system, Dawn thought. An entire Friday at home and two more days of sleep still to come. She was drying dishes from breakfast when she heard the knock.

Angel was catching a nap in a cot he set up in the basement. Tara and Will in class. Xander and Anya at the Magic Box. And Buffy. No way she would be back this quickly. Dawn looked through the window. Broad daylight. Probably just a delivery guy. She scampered into the living room and to the front door just as a second knock came. Slowly, she pulled the heavy door open.

"Dawn?" a very pleasant, somewhat familiar English accent.

"Yes?" the girl answered, eyes wide.

"My name is Gwydion. I'm here to talk to your sister about Emma," he said so pleasantly, so sweetly, it was almost hypnotic.

"Sh...She's not here," Dawn stuttered nervously.

"Oh, dear. I'm sorry," Gwydion said shyly, holding out his hand. "I've

been sent here by the Council of Watchers."

Dawn took the elegant, well-manicured hand, sighing in relief. "So you know Giles?"

"Heavens yes," Gwydion answered, smiling broadly. Dawn studied the man

before her. Grey, pinstripe silk suit. Late 40's, early 50's. Average

height. Something about his face. His face seemed... familiar. Not like someone she knew but rather like a whisper of someone. Ruggedly handsome with sandy coloured hair that was neatly combed off his face. Shiny white teeth. Sparkling clear eyes. Almost too handsome, in an old guy kind of way, to be real. "May I come in?" Gwydion asked, breaking Dawn's mental inspection.

"Uh, yeah. Come in," Dawn replied, stepping to the side. "Can I get you anything?"

"No," he answered, kindness thick in his voice. He slid gracefully through the door. "Maybe I could sit and wait a bit. See if she returns."

"I think she'll be..." Dawn stopped to think. "She may be gone for a while. What's this about?" She folded her arms and tried to look as official as she could.

"I really should speak directly to your sister," Gwydion said. A sly smile then broke across his face. "But you seem like a bright girl..."

Dawn's ears perked at the praise. "What is it?" she asked, trying to

control her happiness with the Watcher's trust.

"Well, as I said, it's about Emma," Gwydion repeated. "I'm helping Giles with his work on the Prophesy and it mentions a mark on the child."

"A mark?" Dawn asked, furrowing her brow.

"A birthmark. A small star on the back of her neck."

"I've never noticed and I'm with her all the time," Dawn answered, shifting her weight.

"It's very small," Gwydion commented, touching Dawn's hand, tracing a tiny star. Dawn shuddered at his touch. For the life of her, she could not figure out why.

"I'll let Buffy know," Dawn responded, calmly.

"Is there any way I could take a look at the child? It would probably be easier for me to spot," Gwydion asked sweetly.

"*No*!" Dawn snapped. The Watcher looked at her in utter shock. Hurt

flashed across his face. Something about his face. His expressions. She knew the face. It was even vaguely comforting.

"Dawn, I did not mean to be presumptuous, nor did I mean to frighten you," Gwydion said, seemingly genuinely upset that he had scared the teen. "If you'd like, we can go call the Council and prove who I am," he continued.

"No, no," Dawn said with resignation. She forced herself to smile an

apology. "Just very protective..."

"Perfectly understandable," Gwydion responded, returning her smile. "I mean her no harm. I just want to help."

"I'm sure Buffy will be grateful, especially since..."

"Since what, dear?"

Dawn was silent. She felt as if he was genuine, but Spike had always told her to trust no one, at least not until he had a chance to look 'em over. Made her wonder if she'd ever have a boyfriend. "Since Spike left," Dawn finished.

"Been hard, has it my sweet?"

"Yeah," she answered, looking down.

"Are Buffy and Emma alright?" Genuine concern laced his words. This game was a work of art.

"Yeah," Dawn answered again, smiling sweetly. "But they really aren't

here."

Gwydion was genuinely taken aback. His human informant had told him that Buffy had left the house. He had never mentioned that she had taken Emma as well.

"Are you OK?" Dawn asked, watching Gwydion's face pale. "Need water or

anything?"

"No, no," Gwydion replied, recovering his composure, "but I shan't take up more of your time. Could you please tell your sister I came to call?" he finished, turning back towards the door.

"Sure," Dawn said. "Do you have a number where she can reach you?"

"I haven't checked into my hotel yet, but I will stop back by," Gwydion

said, touching Dawn's arm. She shuddered again. Something. Something

about him.

"Alright," Dawn said, opening the door.

"Pleasure meeting you," Gwydion said, smiling broadly. "Take care, my dear girl."

He turned on a well-polished heel and retreated down the sidewalk.

*****

Buffy fumbled thorough the jars with one hand, the other wrapped around the kicking, laughing infant on her hip. "Had to hide it in the back," she muttered, lifting onto her toes and feeling the edge of the paper underneath a jar. She pulled it free, blowing out a sigh of exertion and relief.

The paper was tiny, folded only once. Buffy flipped it open with her one free hand.

"no news"

Her brow furrowed and a sudden urge to cry began to bubble to the surface. She read it over and over. Must not be safe, she thought as Emma snatched the slip of paper from her hand and shoved it in her mouth.

"Don't think paper is one of the food groups, Pet," a hushed voice came from the corner, as Buffy wrestled the paper from Emma's chubby grasp. Buffy spun, catching a glimpse of him standing in the darkness.

"You said no news," Buffy muttered, half overjoyed and half wanting to punch him for his little trick. Spike stepped into the filtered light from the basement window, placing one finger over his lips.

"Nothing I can't tell you in person," he whispered into her ear, at the same time loosing Emma from Buffy's hip and hoisting her against him. Emma began her giggle fit anew.

"Shh," he whispered to the baby, catching her chuckle and kissing her

forehead. Softly, Spike took Buffy's hand and led her into the tunnels.

"Is it safe... to go in there?" Buffy asked nervously as Spike reached the back door of the lower level. " I mean, won't other vamps be able to ... smell us?

"Well," Spike answered, "Thought of that. Problem is that the place smells of you to begin with."

"Gee thanks," she said. Spike shifted Emma onto his left side as he opened the door with his right.

"Smells of vanilla. And Lavender. A little apple," he said, kissing her cheek. "Beautiful. Like you. But I closed off the lower level with a trap door and threw a rug over it. So that should slow 'em up a bit. Just a lingering scent."

Spike led Buffy into the crypt. The place was tidy. The bed made. "Hire help?" Buffy quipped, looking around.

"Been a bit bored," Spike answered, sitting down on the edge of the bed and holding Emma under her arms so that her little feet balanced on his thighs. "Not quite sure what to do when you are not around.

"Which 'you' are you talking to?" Buffy whispered, crawling onto the bed

next to them.

"That'd be 'you' plural," Spike answered, rubbing his cheek against Buffy's hair.

"Miss us?" Buffy asked, curling around behind him, her head by his left

hip, her legs by his right.

"Very much," he answered, watching Emma closely. The little girl yawned and giggled, reaching out to plant a chubby palm on Spike's nose.

"She grown?" Spike asked, grabbing the little hand and kissing it before setting it back down to her side.

"Maybe," Buffy chuckled. "She changes every day." Buffy was silent,

watching Spike watch Emma. The look on his face was pure love. She knew that look. "The fairies came back."

"In the back yard?" Spike asked, looking down at Buffy.

"No. They came to her window. They asked to come in."

"Asked?" Spike questioned, repositioning Emma so that she was sitting on his lap, his arm wrapped around her.

"They can talk."

"I assumed as much. But you heard them?"

"No," Buffy answered, "but Tara did."

"Tara," Spike repeated. "D'you let them in?"

"Yeah," she replied tentatively. "They said they'd help her."

"Probably wise," Spike commented. "Certainly won't hurt. We need all the help we can get."

"Why Spike? What do you know?" Buffy asked, sitting up. Spike wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her hip flush against his.

Spike told her everything, starting with the night he watched her on the

porch. How Simon had approached him. Everything the dark haired vamp had said almost word for word as if he had recorded it in his mind. Spike told her about the night at Willie's and the female Vampire at which Buffy cringed involuntarily, but was somehow relieved he had told her. It was amazing how he recounted every detail, using every sense, describing every event and weaving it together with his own theories in a dizzying array of thought.

Buffy chuckled.

"What's funny? Spike asked, finally taking a breath. "Serious

information."

"I know," she said, consciously trying to control her giggles, "but for a moment, you started to sound like Giles."

"Wha..." Spike gawked, deeply offended by the concept the he may have

suddenly turned into a Wanker. "I did *not*."

"You did," Buffy said, erupting into giggles. Spike could not help but

catch her beautiful, infectious grin. "Look, you even lulled Emma to

sleep," Buffy continued, gesturing at the baby now napping on his lap, her tiny head plunked against his stomach.

"So, this is the thanks I get for putting my sodding hide on the line for you two," Spike responded, trying his best to sound indignant, but failing miserably against his beautiful Slayer's giggle fit. "I'm *not* Giles, I'll have you know," he continued, mimicking Gile's voice nearly perfectly. "I *have* been shagged in the last quarter century."

"Many times," Buffy said, still giggling under her breath, leaning her face towards his. "In many, many ways," she continued, her voice becoming somehow warmer against his skin.

Spike growled as her lips caught his. She was in complete control. He

couldn't move with Emma asleep on his lap. Her lips danced over his like butterfly wings. "No fair," he muttered. "Insult me and then..."

"Then what?" Buffy teased, her lips still brushing against his.

"Tempt me," he answered in a voice so sensual that Buffy could feel the

little hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. He cupped his hand

behind her neck and pulled her to him, kissing her passionately. She mewled softly against him, but he did not let her go until just before the point of no return. Until Buffy was melting in his hands. He sighed, pulling his face from hers, prompting a little moan of displeasure from her pretty coral lips. "Another day," he whispered as Emma began to stir again.

"I know," she answered smiling softly and kissing him once again.

"You're really going to have to stop," Spike said as her face moved away. She grinned at the blush in his cheeks.

"Can't help it," she answered, leaning towards him again.

"Really," he answered, touching her face. "Emma's not old enough for adult videos and I've missed you far too much." Buffy giggled, the desperation evident in his words.

"Alright," She said, falling back onto the bed. Spike leaned gently back with her, settling Emma in between them.

"Not much longer?" Buffy asked.

"No, Pet," Spike answered, playing her soft fingers with his.

"I'm glad we came," she said, turning to look at him.

"I am too, love. Gives me something to think about until we meet again."

Title: Army Men (The Peacemaker Prophesy, pt 11)

Author: Nimue

Rating: PG-13

Feedback: Yes, please

Disclaimer: All characters belong to Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, UPN, Fox... Just Borrowing.

Summary: Buffy calls a meeting to share information. Spike meets his team. Angel makes a life-threatening mistake.

Army Men

Buffy walked into the house carrying Emma, Xander towing the line with an empty stroller. Despite having to part ways, an entire day alone with Spike was like breathing again. A little smile played on her lips. Even Emma seemed more content, if that was possible. The circle was complete.

"Dawn?" Buffy called.

"Yeah," Dawn called back from the kitchen. Buffy made her way in. Time for a bottle warming anyway.

"Hi," Buffy chirped, nearly floating to the fridge.

"Hi," Dawn said, drawing out the word and grinning broadly. "Nice day?"

Buffy blushed. "That transparent?" she asked, popping a bottle into the

microwave.

"If you want to count the grinning from ear to ear and blushing subtle,

then..." Dawn quipped, grabbing Emma and cooing at the smiling baby.

"Sorry," Buffy said, still smiling and blushing.

"No," Dawn retorted. "Good smiley blushy Buffy. Happy Buffy, good Buffy."

"See you've inherited my talent for words."

"How's Spike?" Dawn asked.

"Good," Buffy answered, testing the bottle and handing it to Dawn.

"Very...efficient."

"Efficient?"

"All businessy-Gilesy."

"And that would explain the blush."

"Don't make me poke you."

"Holding prophesy baby. Back!" Dawn joked, sliding the bottle into Emma's mouth.

"Lucky for you," Buffy quipped. "Tara and Will around?"

"Tara is at her apartment. Willow is in class. Both are coming by for

dinner."

"What should I make?" Buffy asked, opening the fridge.

"Ordering pizza," Dawn snapped, pushing the fridge door shut with her

backside. Buffy shot her sister another warning glance.

"Well," Buffy began, "Anya will be over after she closes at eight. Xander's here. We need to have a meeting so I can fill you in on Spike's info." She was quiet for a second. "Where's Angel?"

"Slept most of the day, but he's up taking a shower."

"Guess that's good that he got some rest. I have an icky feeling about

tonight."

*****

The sun had barely set over the horizon, it's last rays sinking below the line of Earth, when a sharp rap came at the crypt door. Spike hoisted himself from the couch, flicking off the television and strode over to the heavy wooden barrier. When he swung it open along its thick metal hinges, he was taken aback by the sight.

Six burly vampires, all older, all very fit and dressed in game face, all wearing exactly the same black cargo pants, black turtlenecks, black boots as if they were some sort of covert mortuary army unit. They stood in formation on Spike's front step.

"Spike?" an older, raven-haired vampire said, stepping forward.

"Yeah," Spike stuttered. Don't like this at all.

"I am Pwyll. One of the masters men. Simon sent us."

"Right," Spike said, nodding and stepping aside. The vampires filed in.

Pwyll sniffed the air like a bloodhound.

"She was here," he stated, fire in his eyes. "Faint, but I smell the

Slayer."

"Used to stay here, mate," Spike said casually. "Damn smell sticks to

everything." The army men relaxed a bit.

"Have a seat," Spike gestured. "Wherever."

"We are here to hunt," Pwyll replied.

"Slayer doesn't start her rounds until at least nine," Spike said

authoritatively. "She's what I'm after. You need to warm up, go on then." It was a hopeful attempt at getting rid of them, but they began to sit along the periphery of the room.

"We will wait then," Pwyll answered.

"Do whatever you bloody well want," Spike snapped, flicking the telly back to life.

*****

"Right, so Spike seems to think this is going down soon then?" Xander asked, shoving a piece of pizza into his mouth.

"Gut reaction," Buffy answered.

"Moon," Angel said, thoughtfully. All eyes stared at him. Angel shrugged, leaning on the banister. Buffy noticed Angel was a lot shyer of eating in front of them. If it had been Spike, he'd have been alternating pizza and sipping a mug of blood without even thinking about it. Not sure if that was a good thought or not. She smiled anyway.

"Regardless, we need to be on our guard," Buffy said. "Tara, can you

reinforce the spell?"

"Sure," Tara chirped.

"If you can, step it up a notch. Only humans. Clem will have to wait."

Buffy looked over at the Vampire standing near the stairs. "Make that human souls."

"Right," Tara answered, winking. "What about the fairies?"

Buffy thought a moment. The rest stared at them oddly. "They can stay."

"Fairies?" Xander asked.

"Long story," Buffy sighed.

"I'll try to see what I can dig up on the Master Line," Willow chimed in, albeit quietly.

"Good," Buffy answered, smiling reassuringly. It was nice to be getting

Willow back.

"I'll stay with Emma," Dawn said, assigning herself her rightful place.

"Alright," Buffy agreed, "but stay with someone please. I don't want anyone alone."

"Right," Dawn answered. She knew better than to fight with Buffy when it came to either Emma or Spike.

"And keep your eyes open for anything odd. Anything," Buffy pleaded.

"Oh," Dawn said, looking down.

"What is it, Dawnie?" Willow asked, looking at the girl.

"I meant to tell you that a Watcher came by this afternoon."

Everyone in the room was silent. Buffy could feel the anger welling, but forced it back the best she could. "And you are just telling me this now, why?"

"B...because..." Dawn stuttered.

"Who was it?" Angel asked, trying to break the tension between the sisters.

"Said his name was Gwydion. He knows Giles. He's helping him with the

prophesy. Came to talk to you and check for some... mark... on Emma."

"Mark?" Buffy snapped.

"A star."

"There's no mark."

"That's what I said."

"We'll check when she wakes up, but no mark. Dawn, did you let him in?"

"Yes," Dawn answered quietly.

"Angel, where were you?" Buffy said as it occurred to her that this was

precisely the reason he was here. The anger began to bubble to the surface.

"A..asleep, I guess."

"Vampire hearing?"

"Didn't hear anything that sounded..." Angel argued. "Look, I'm sorry." He said quietly.

"You are here for one reason," Buffy said, flatly. "Because we asked you to help protect Emma. Don't *ever* let this happen again." Buffy glanced at her watch. Nine thirty. Patrol needed to be done. The rest would have to wait.

"Anya?" Buffy asked, swinging her head toward the woman.

"Yeah."

"Can you call Giles and ask about this.. Gwydion guy?"

"Sure," Anya chirped in agreement.

"And can you guys look Emma over when she gets a bath. See about this

mark?"

"I know a lot about ancient ritual markings," Willow contributed.

"Good. Just take a look." Buffy said. "Angel? Ready?" Her eyes were

still full of fire

"Ready," he answered.

"*No one*," Buffy said as she stood, grabbing her coat, "*no one* comes in. And I would appreciate it if no one leaves."

"We won't, Buff," Xander answered. Buffy grabbed her cross bow. She felt as if she might need something extra. Angel sheathed a sword under his coat.

"Please watch her. Every minute." Buffy pleaded.

"We will," Dawn answered, starting up the stairs. Buffy swung the door

open, striding into the night. Angel followed at her heels.

*****

"What the *hell* were you doing?" Buffy raged at Angel as they moved out of earshot of the house.

"I heard the knock and got up, but something told me she knew him..." Angel stuttered. It was true. He'd heard the door and the voices, but for some reason, he didn't move to check it out. Didn't sense any danger. He wasn't quite sure why himself.

"So what, you're psychic now?" Buffy snarked, striding down the street.

"No, Buffy," Angel answered. "I'm sorry. It just.. it sounded like she

knew him. It won't happen again."

"It had *better* not," Buffy hissed, stopping in her tracks and spinning

toward her former love. "That was my little sister. If anything happens to her.... What if Emma *had* been there?"

"I understand Buffy. I'm sorry. I know that Spike would..."

"Spike," Buffy snapped, "would be a prom date compared to what I would do to you." She tried to relax. To breathe. She knew Angel hadn't meant to harm them, but the fact was, that was her family and he had endangered them. She took a deep breath and settled herself. "Look, just don't let it happen again," she sighed.

"I promise, Buffy. I'm sorry."

Buffy turned and continued walking down the street, this time toward the

docks. Just felt she needed to avoid the cemetery for a while. Together they walked in silence.

*****

"Well, Spike," Pwyll said with obvious dissatisfaction, "looks to be about eleven and no sign of your Slayer. We were told you knew her patterns."

Kind of wondering that myself, Spike thought. "Relax," he said, hopping up on a headstone and lighting a cigarette. "Slayers go where they are needed. Must've gotten some mystical call or some other sodding malarky."

"Master controls everything on the Hellmouth now," Pwyll responded.

"Would've informed us if there was to be an uprising."

"Well," Spike answered, "she's a fickle beast. She'll be here."

Pwyll leaned back against a headstone, waving at his men to stand down.

They instantly relaxed. Mindless Wankers, Spike thought.

Together they waited in silence.

To be contd.

Title: The Fates (The Peacemaker Prophesy, pt 12)

Author: Nimue

Rating: PG-13

Feedback: Yes, please

Disclaimer: All characters belong to Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, UPN, Fox... Just Borrowing.

Summary: Drusilla has a vision. The conflict between Buffy, Angel, Spike and the Army Men comes to a head.

The Fates



Gwydion stormed back in to the rented house. "Simon?" he called, his voice rage and annoyance personified. Simon scurried into the room, frightened just by the tone.

"Yes, sir?"

"What *exactly* did the informant say this morning?"

"That the Slayer had left the house," Simon answered, timidly.

"And the child?" Gwydion asked, pouring a drink and pacing around the room.

"Did not mention her," Simon replied honestly. "Did the plan not go as

expected?"

"Do I act as if I am pleased?" Gwydion raged, the glass breaking in his

grip.

"N...no sir."

"Bring him to me."

"The informant?"

"Of course you.... git," Gwydion snapped. "And send Drusilla."

"Drusilla?"

"Are you deaf now?" Gwydion's eyes were fire.

"No, sir."

Gwydion took a deep breath, his shoulders dropping slightly. "Well, at

least the binding spell worked on the souled one."

"He was not alerted to your presence, sir?"

"No," Gwydion answered. " I imagine he was sitting there dazed as to why he felt no need to move. Tell Mistress Leonora that I am in her debt."

"She has cast the spell to last as long as the amulet's powers," Simon

commented.

"Yes," Gwydion replied. "Now we need another opportunity."

"Spike?" Simon asked.

"Only if we must," Gwydion answered. "Drusilla had said the fates are on our side, so let us see what they have in store for us first, shall we?"

"Forgive me for saying so, but the girl is quite mad."

Gwydion smiled softly. "That she is, Simon. But she has the sight."

"Yes, sir."

"Off with you then," Gwydion said, flicking his wrist at Simon as he fled from the room.

*****

Buffy walked into the cemetery, hesitating as her foot stepped inside its gates.

"What is it, Buffy?" Angel asked. They were the first words that either had said since her diatribe in the street. Buffy raised her crossbow, sighting it along the tree line.

"Something's here," she answered, changing in front of Angel's eyes from

woman to warrior. Her face hardened, her muscles twitched in anticipation, her stride began again, long and purposeful and as graceful as a lioness on the prowl. There was no way for him to see the feelings of fear and despair pounding in her veins.

"What is it?" Angel asked again.

"Just be ready," Buffy whispered, starting down the path into the heart of darkness.

*****

"Drusilla?" Gwydion asked as his dark beauty floated into the room. He was sitting stiffly in the red velvet chair.

"Yes," she whispered, kneeling at his feet.

"Tell me once again about the fates," he asked softly, stroking her hair.

"They told me the Empress would leave the Star. She will run to the

Emperor."

"The Slayer?"

"Yes. The Empress. You see, the Emperor is wounded in the great battle. The Hanged Man does it. The Empress will go to him."

"When, my dear?"

"Now and then. By the by. It's already happened in here," Drusilla sang, tapping her head. Gwydion swallowed his frustration. Understanding Drusilla was like solving the riddle of the Sphinx. Simple but complex. Worth the effort but an effort it was.

"Drusilla, what does the moon over the great battle resemble?"

"An egg with a little sliver from the top," she answered, drawing it in the air.

"Almost full?"

"From mother to crone," she nodded.

"Thank you my dear," Gwydion said sweetly. "Simon is bringing home a very naughty man who needs to be punished. Would you like to play with him?"

"Oh yes," she hissed, hopping up and down on her knees.

"Go and wait in your room, my dear." Gwydion said. Drusilla unfolded into a lean, dark beauty towering above the chair.

"You wish to kill the Star?" Drusilla asked, as she turned to go.

"Yes. Then darkness can rule and you will be my little princess."

"I like *that*," she drew her words out and smiled. "But it is not nice to kill little babies."

"Never you mind, my sweet. Go and wait for your toy." With that, Drusilla disappeared into the shadows.

*****

The little hairs at the nape of Spike's neck stood on end just before the faintest scent of vanilla tickled his nose. "Slayer," he muttered, hopping from the tombstone.

"Where?" Pwyll asked, motioning his men to attention.

"Near."

"I don't sense her."

"Well you don't quite know her as I do, you sodding git," Spike huffed.

"Remember, fight her if you must, but she belongs to me. That was the

arrangement."

"The kill is yours," Pwyll said, bowing.

"Wouldn't be so bloody confident," Spike snarked. "Little girl could kick you from here cross the bleeding pond."

Buffy and Angel walked into the far end of their vision. Pwyll motioned the five subservient men into action. Spike had hoped he could warn her, but these incompetent fools would be a walk in the park for his Slayer. It was having to battle her himself that concerned him the most. It wasn't the fight. He knew just where to land a blow without doing her any harm. The rub was making it work. Angel would have to dust Pwyll or Spike would have to come up with another way to end it without killing off any of the three of them. Not that the Poof's demise would send him into a deep state of mourning, but he was doing them a favour.

Buffy stepped fully into his line of sight, crossbow raised, legs braced

against the Earth. He watched her notice him and she faltered, the crossbow missing its mark and catching one of the younger vamps in the shoulder. She spun, recovering and planted a kick to his stomach, sending him reeling into a mausoleum. A whimper escaped his lips and he scurried to his feet, fleeing the scene. Buffy moved to chase, but decided that the remaining four were the more pressing issue.

Watching her battle was like poetry in motion. The fluidity of her

movement. The rhythm of her strike, the grace in which she defied gravity, plunging the stake as if it were the ending flourish of some macabre dance. She was graceful and lethal, beautiful and fierce and every side of her he loved and respected.

Angel battled a second vamp as Buffy worked on her third. His style was

old, but effective. He was a fighter of fist and sword, not as resourceful or as fluid as Spike's Slayer, but the job was done all the same. He watched Buffy and Angel interact. How Buffy moved instinctively to warn and to protect, how Angel grunted with displeasure at every blow that rained on Buffy. How Angel looked at her still in awe and wonder. How much I have missed?, Spike thought. The jealousy bubbled, accelerating his heart, making his palms sticky with anticipation. How he only wished he could fight the Poof. Rip him from his Slayer. Hurt him for all he had done to her and all she had managed to forgive.

Forgive.

In the end, guess I can't cast the first stone, Spike thought. Still like to give him a sodding roughing up, though.

As the last vamp was dusted, Pwyll sprang to life and darted towards the

pair as if shot from a cannon. Spike raced behind, heading toward the one spot of violence that would not help him sleep tonight. Angel was swinging the sword above his head an in an ancient flourish as Pwyll descended upon him, his own weapon drawn. They looked as if caught in the midst of some medieval battle. Buffy had dropped the crossbow, standing absolutely still, legs planted in fighting stance, arms in front of her. Mano a mano. No weapons. No glory.

The clanging of metal danced around as Buffy came at Spike, jabbing right, left, undercut, spin, roundhouse, plant. He knew this dance. He'd trained her in it every day. Spike shifted to game face. Somehow it wasn't right to fight her in earnest in the same face with which he loved her. As she moved to kick again, he caught her ankle, twisting and flipping her to the ground. She looked up, almost smiling as he lunged down at her and she used her legs to toss him over her head and into the grass behind her. This was like puppies rough housing to her. He could smell her excitement and feel his own.

Why does fighting have to turn us on?, she thought.

Buffy sprang to her feet and Spike to his, face to face, circling each other like boxers in a ring. She jabbed, he blocked, she kicked, he reeled, she missed, he knocked her down, all the while, King Arthur battled the rabid rabbit with swords sparking and clanging. What was the point? Much easier to stake the sot and be done with it.

Spike sparred back and forth with Buffy, landing just enough blows to make it look believable, and Buffy accommodated, whimpering and spewing insults in alternating order. She landed quite a few strikes as well and Spike could feel the angry bruises building fast under his skin. Still, the sight of her all flushed and pretty was driving him mad.

She landed a kick, backing Spike almost into Angel. The fluttering of

duster against duster as they passed, back to back. The sound of the sword cutting through air and the thud of Pwyll's head falling to the ground. Spike turned toward the sound as Buffy approached from his side. The world seemed to slow as the sword came down to Angel's side, swinging back from the momentum of the strike.

Then the searing pain as metal tore through fabric. Then flesh. Then meat. Then bone.

Buffy stopped dead as Spike reeled back, his hand clutched just below his ribs. He staggered, blood pouring between his fingers, and fell forward, grabbing Buffy with his free hand.

"Spike?" she whispered in shock, as he fell to his knees, pulling her to the ground with him. Angel watched in stunned horror. "Spike?"

"Be alright. Go. Have to. Watching," he whispered, faintly. Her hand

caught his and she felt the blood seep into her fingers. The tears welled.

"Mortal?" she gasped, as the heavy drops spilled slowly from the corners of her eyes.

"Go, Pet," he whispered against her cheek. "Go, you bloody *bint*. Let me rest in peace," he shouted, back to the show, pushing her away with as much force as he could muster. Didn't take much. Buffy could have been pushed over by a wind. Spike looked helplessly at Angel. Shock and confusion painted his grandsire's face. "Go," Spike shouted again, pushing Buffy with the last of his strength and rolling onto the grass.

Angel grabbed Buffy by the collar, staring down at Spike. Had to get her out of here. He pulled her to her feet, dragging her away.

To be contd

Title: The Star (The Peacemaker Prophesy, pt 13)

Author: Nimue

Rating: PG-13

Feedback: Yes, please

Disclaimer: All characters belong to Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, UPN, Fox... Just Borrowing.

Summary: Spike is mortally wounded. Buffy has to leave him alone. Spike gets an unexpected visitor.

The Star

"Gwydion?" the wounded warrior called, bolting into the house.

"What is that?" Gwydion asked, stepping into the entryway with practiced elegance.

"The Slayer and Angel. They killed them all," he panted. "All but me."

"Spike?" Gwydion asked, lighting a cigarette and leaning against the wall.

"He was wounded badly. I think... I think he's mortal," the vampire

commented, furrowing his brow.

"Mortal?"

"He took a sword blow to the gut. There was a lot of blood. He looked as if he was dying, sir,"

"Did the Slayer cut the final blow?"

"No, sir. It was quite the accident. Angel stabbed him as he was finishing Pwyll."

A sad look crossed the face of the sandy haired man. "Poor Pwyll," he

whispered. "Well, if Spike is indeed mortal, there is one less obstacle to overcome."

"But I thought..."

Gwydion laughed. "That Spike was with us? No, my child. He belongs to the Slayer. To the Peacemaker. Tied for all eternity."

"Then why?"

"Patience, son," Gwydion said, patting the boy's shoulder. "Have Simon

patch you up."

"Yes sir," the army vamp said, spinning on a heel in a precise motion and heading down the hallway. Drusilla watched from the doorway. As Gwydion turned back into the den, she disappeared quietly into the shadows.

*****

Spike was counting the stars. Watching them flicker and fade and brighten. Really didn't hurt anymore. Be fine in a few minutes. Soon as the bleeding stops. The stars danced above, moving, glowing, disappearing. Just a few more minutes and I'll be right as rain, he thought. Spike closed his eyes against the dizzying array above.

There she was. Stepping through the flames as she had that night in Africa. So light. So dazzlingly beautiful.

"I miss you, Spike." Just a whisper.

"My love," he choked.

A small girl appeared next to her, walking to Buffy's side and taking

Buffy's hand. Couldn't have been more than five. Beautiful. Cut from the same cloth with shiny blonde hair and huge doe eyes. Just sapphires rather than emeralds. "Emma," Spike groaned, trying to sit up. The two were shining through the flames, wild and pretty and good.

"I love you, Daddy," the little girl's voice rang. The sweetest, most peaceful voice, rich beyond her years.

"C'mere, mite," he whispered. But they were gone.

*****

Buffy was running, pounding down the street, tears flowing as fast as her legs moved, her heart racing, breaking. She was going the wrong way. Spike was behind her. Spike was... mortal. Spike was dying. She ran because it was the only way not to run back.

Angel was calling to her, trailing her. Damn him, Buffy thought. Damn his stupid sword. Damn his.. presence. She wanted to scream back to leave her alone, but she was afraid if her mouth opened, the primal sound of rage and hurt and fear would shatter the night. Bring the very stars down from the sky.

She burst through the door of their house, steaming past the waiting crew in the living room, never pausing before running up the stairs. Angel could explain this. He could tell them how he nearly killed Spike. Nearly. But I don't know that, do I?, she thought. She felt the blood. Saw his eyes fade from blue to clear, his face blank into that horrible stare. Buffy ran into Emma's room, her feet suddenly still. There was no where left to run.

"Buffy?" Dawn asked, as Buffy dropped to her knees, her head falling into her hands as if it were made of lead. The sobs came. The hitching, horrible, painful sobs. "Buffy?" She felt her sister's arms around her. "Buffy, what happened?"

"Spike," Buffy whispered when she could find the breath.

"What about Spike?"

"Mortal," Buffy muttered.

"OK," Dawn said, confused. Suddenly, the idea clicked into place in her

mind. "Buffy, did you hurt Spike?"

"No." Buffy's body shook like a leaf in a hurricane.

"Then what?"

"Angel. Accident."

"What accident?"

"Stabbed. Dying."

"Buffy," Dawn said forcefully, fear racking her. She pulled Buffy's face from her hands. "What do you mean? Talk to me."

"Angel," she whispered," Killing a vampire with a sword and cut Spike. He was bleeding. Dawn, he's a mortal."

"Is he OK?"

"I don't know."

"We have to go to him, " Dawn said, standing up quickly, resolve in her

voice.

"No," Buffy answered, standing in front of her. "We can't. He made me

leave. If we go, we could endanger Emma. We could lose her."

"If we don't, Spike might die."

"Dawn, he *made* me go. He doesn't want us to leave her."

"But.."

"I'll go as soon as the sun rises. Get the keys from Anya," Buffy ordered, her resolve coming back.

"What do we do until then?"

"Wait," Buffy said, the tears still silently falling. "Now go," she

whispered, kissing Dawn's forehead. Dawn looked at her closely and jogged out of the room.

*****

Spike's eyes fluttered open. The stars were gone. Candles glowed. The

shadow danced around the room. Furniture. He was in his crypt, laid out on his bed. Spike tried to lift his head, but he was too tired. His hand was pressed against his shirt and he could feel the warm stickiness of blood still crawling between his fingers. A haze covered everything in a surreal glow. It had been quick the first time he died. He felt her teeth sinking deep into his flesh, a sharp pain, then it faded to blissful blackness. This was different. This was human. This time he had reason not to fade.

He heard feet patter in the shadows. Spike tried to lift his head again

with no success. He closed his eyes and felt a cloth on his head and

delicate fingers peel his hand away from the wound.

"Buffy?" he muttered.

"Shh, love," the voice said. It was familiar, thick and spiced, but it was not Buffy. Spike's eyes flickered open once again.

"Drusilla?"

"Hello, Spike." That familiar Cheshire cat grin spreading across her dark features.

"What...."

"Don't talk," she continued, putting a long finger over his lips. The

feelings of comfort and utter revulsion battled in her touch. "The Hanged Man wounded the Emperor. Come to heal him."

"Why are you here?" he croaked.

"Gwydion brought me along," she chirped. "Thought the New World might be a nice holiday."

"Gwydion?"

"The master," she answered. Spike tried to process everything she

was saying. A twinge of jealousy hit. She had found someone to take care of her. Another puppy to play with. But jealousy was quickly replaced by fury. The fact she was here and here with the master, with Gwydion, meant she was here to kill is daughter. Drusilla. Betrayal. What more could he expect?

"Where is he, Dru?"

"Ah, ah, ah," she chastised, wagging her finger. "You're not to know, my naughty Spike."

"Dru, he..."

"Shhh."

"Dru, he plans to kill a child. Did you know that?"

"The Star," she whispered, her face dropping. "I told him it was bad to kill little babies. There will be many other chances when she's grown."

Spike felt himself growl. He had forgotten how cold-blooded she could be. Still, he thought, Angelus had butchered her family, even the little ones before turning her. He knew what it had done to her. What had once been a gift, that night, became madness.

"Dru," The words seemed to whistle from his lips and from his wound. "You have to tell me when. How?" Spike twinged, the pain crashing. His body shook.

Drusilla looked at him wide eyed. "It's true!" she exclaimed.

"True?"

"You're a mortal." A look of horror crossed her face.

"It seems that way, Pet," he answered, falling back against the pillows.

"I can take it away," she hissed, her face changing as it did that night in the alley. She crawled up the bed, straddling his hips, leaning down until she was just inches from his face.

"Dru, no."

"You cannot want this life. This death."

"I chose it, Dru."

"I can give you back your health. Your power."

"I love her," Spike whispered. Dru rocked back. He watched in hazy

interest as her dark mind processed what she had always known.

"You loved me once," she sang, almost as if the words were part of some

funeral dirge.

"That I did, Pet," Spike answered, honestly.

"I can make it that way again," she whispered in that mad, sultry voice,

stretching out on top of him. He could not move. Pain, fatigue,

hopelessness pinned him to the bed. "I can make you what you were. Darkest prince. My love," she chanted. He could feel her tongue flicker along his jugular. Spike closed his eyes swallowing. "I can take your pain and make you a god." Her teeth scraped sensuously against his flesh.

"Dru, no." he croaked, tears in his eyes. If he was to die tonight, he

wanted it to be on his own terms. Still, her wicked mouth caressed his

neck. Her dark, intoxicating beauty. The smell of opium and rose petals and blood.

"I can make you better," she breathed.

"I miss you," her sweet, light voice. The flames flickering around her.

"I love you, Daddy," Words that were yet unspoken.

"Dru, No!" Spike snapped as her fangs began to burrow into his flesh. With a final burst of energy, he pushed her off of him. She tumbled across the bed, stopping just before she hit the floor.

"Spike?" she said, horror and confusion on her doll like face. How he had loved her once. Not anymore. Never again.

"I don't want to go back," Spike said softly.

"You *want* to die here with her...stink.. all around you?"

" I would rather die with her," Spike whispered, getting tired again.

"Drusilla, I loved you once. Our time is gone. I chose her. I chose this. Please, pet. Leave me be."

Drusilla stood, floating across the room on her long graceful legs. Spike waited, knowing she would try again and doubting he had the energy to fend her off a second time. She stopped next to the bed and leaned down towards him. He closed his eyes, begging whoever would listen to deliver him from this fate.

Soft lips pressed to his forehead. "Goodbye then, my Spike." He took great effort to force open his eyes and look at her once again. "The fairies will know."

"Know what, Pet?"

"When the fairies meet, there will be a ball. Thousands of them, dancing in the sunlight. That is when the Star would fall."

"At the hands of the fairies?" Spike asked, trying to unravel her words. Trying to understand why she was even saying them.

"No," she giggled. "The fairies love the Star. The day of their ball will be the day that Gwydion will come."

Spike thought a moment, trying to record it in his shattered mind. Trying to unlock the riddle with an intellect that was fading with his body. Hoping he could get to Buffy in time.

Drusilla turned and glided toward the door. "Dru?" Spike called.

"Yes, my love," she answered, turning her head.

"Thank you."

She looked at him for a long moment, then drifted into the darkness.



To be contd.

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