Chapter One: All These Things That I’ve Done
*****
“I’ve got soul, but I’m not a soldier.”
(“All These Things That I’ve Done” –The Killers)
*****
It was too quiet.
Buffy’s footsteps were the only sound in Restfield cemetery that night. The stagnant June air had no hint of wind to it, and even the trees remained annoyingly silent. As far as summers in Sunnydale went, this one seemed determined to be the most stifling ever.
She itched for a vampire to cross her path; three days without slaying anything at all was making her antsy. She longed for the sound of fist colliding with bone, for the rush of her own breath bursting from her lungs during battle. Anything to force her to stop focusing on all the sounds that… weren’t. She kept listening for not-quite-subtle footsteps behind her, for the soft exhale of cigarette smoke. She kept waiting to hear a snarky comment about her technique, kept creating very witty comebacks in her head that had no reason to be voiced.
“God, what’s wrong with me?” she asked herself softly, pouting at the surrounding gravestones. She supposed she should call it a night; she’d patrolled for two hours already, and Dawn’s last day of summer school was tomorrow. One more day of getting up early, and then they could both have the rest of the summer to sleep in. It wasn’t as if there was much else to do. Xander was tied up in building the brand new Sunnydale High School, which meant lots of overtime, and Anya was tying up loose ends with the Magic Box, which mostly consisted of cleaning up the destruction Willow had caused.
Willow…
It had only been a month, since Buffy had taken her sister’s hand and crawled out of the grave Willow had never intended for her to escape, and into the sunlight. Life had been… better since then. Willow had left with Giles days later, once the doctor had given the watcher permission to travel. She hadn’t spoken to anyone but Xander before leaving.
Xander had saved the world, and how weird was that?
Just a month, but the world felt so different. For starters, she was happy to be alive. That was a big change. She looked forward to getting up in the morning; even enjoyed the morning snipe-fests with her little sister. She’d spent many mornings helping Anya clean the wreckage of her former livelihood. She’d even tried cooking dinner a few times, but after the ‘enchilada incident,’ Dawn had begged her for more fast food.
A month, since Clem had told her.
((…he could be gone for awhile…))
It wasn’t that she wanted him back. Buffy wasn’t sure she could even deal with the idea of setting eyes on Spike again.
It was that he had left.
Her dad, Angel, Riley, Giles… all had left her.
Spike… he never left. He was always there; constantly static, and annoying about it. He just kept knocking until you let him in, either by accident or from frustration. He’d been a friend, a confidant, a thing, a punching bag, a lover, a weapon… He would have been anything, just to be allowed inside…
What kind of person was she?
There wasn’t guilt, but Buffy was almost certain she was headed in that direction. What kind of person was capable of breaking a monster? And did it make her a monster, as well?
There was honor in battle; a clash of swords, the solid punch through the skin and bone while driving the stake home. You win, they lose. Simple, direct, and just the way Buffy liked things.
She’d brought Spike to his knees in a completely different way. With vicious words and dangling promises of love, like tawdry jewelry, quick to be broken. Hell, expected.
But Spike hadn’t expected it. He’d called her dark, had taunted her into the shadows, but even he had been brought low by his discovery. When Buffy recalled his eyes in the harsh light of the bathroom that night, that look of wild bewilderment and crazed anguish, all she could remember now was a horribly broken man.
A man.
How could she call him that now, after everything? Shouldn’t he be even less real to her, given what he had tried to do? Something worthy of the death she was chosen to deliver? Dangerous and corrupt?
((Horrified and torn?))
She hadn’t just used him; this was the issue she was forcing herself to muddle through in her hours alone. She’d made a game of him.
((Kick the Spike.))
Why? Because he didn’t feel; he couldn’t. There was no love.
((Tracing words on the skin of her back with the tip of a finger as they lay entwined in his crypt. Thinking she was asleep. ‘Princess… Beauty… Love you…’))
“Buffy?”
Jumping slightly, the Slayer turned to see her sister. In a graveyard.
At night.
“Dawn, what are you doing here?”
The younger Summers shrugged. “Got done with my homework.”
“And?”
“I was bored?” she attempted, having it in her to look the slightest bit guilty.
Buffy sighed. “Just because I took you on patrol a couple of times doesn’t mean you can go walking around by yourself at night.”
“But I knew you’d be here,” Dawn protested, her brow raised hopefully.
“What? How could you possibly know that? There’s way more than one cemetery in Sunnydale, Dawnie.”
“Aware of that, really. But you always come here last,” she stated matter-of-factly.
Buffy suddenly found it very important to change the subject; she didn’t want Dawn going into the reasons she usually made Restfield her last stop for the night. “You still haven’t given me a good reason for the being here of you,” she pointed out.
Dawn sighed, her shoulders slumping in defeat, but Buffy knew her little sister had discovered another point to argue when she crossed her arms, lifting her chin haughtily. “You’d probably do better with me here, anyway,” she said.
Buffy laughed. “Really, and why is that?”
“Well, the way you’ve been barfing lately, I can’t imagine you’re feeling up to the whole patrol thing.”
Buffy rolled her eyes. “Twice, Dawnie. I’ve thrown up twice.”
“Yeah, but how often do you get sick? Like, never,” Dawn answered herself.
“That’s not true; I’ve been sick before.”
“What, maybe twice?” Worry filled Dawn’s eyes, and Buffy knew her sister was genuinely concerned, and not just out on the prowl. “Buffy, you look like crap.”
“Oh, thanks,” the Slayer chuckled defensively.
“Well, Xander’s too nice to say it, and Willow’s not here. You looked tired.”
I am tired, Buffy wanted to say. Tired of my group of friends getting continually smaller. Tired of pretending to be Mom and doing a horrible job of it. Tired of feeling guilty for things I shouldn’t even have to think about…
So, yeah, she’d been a little sick lately. No big. If it wasn’t a stomach bug, it had to be stress. The only people she talked to were Dawn, Xander, and Anya, and two of those people were barely speaking to each other. Dawn had spent the past month being moody about having to attend summer school, and Anya was uncharacteristically fragile, leaving Buffy with the task of always leaving Xander out of conversation. A fragile vengeance demon; it was almost funny. Xander was the only person in her life these days that seemed just the same, and it was comforting. She wished she saw more of him.
She missed Giles.
She missed Willow.
She—
…No. Not going there.
“I’m fine, Dawnie,” she told her sister.
*****
Spike was dreaming.
Even in his unconscious state, the vampire found himself grateful that he wasn’t in the bathroom again. He’d spent too many days there, had seen far too much blood…
He was in Buffy’s kitchen, leaning forward on the counter, near the kitchen door. Buffy was making pancakes, and he was wishing she’d turn around so he could see her face. It had been too long. Even if she looked upon him with loathing, it would be better than the absence he’d been forced to exist in.
“I have something to tell you,” she said in a solemn tone. He expected her to continue, but instead she slipped the spatula under the pancake.
((“This flapjack’s not ready to be flipped.”))
“What is it, then?” he asked her when it seemed obvious she was waiting for him to speak.
Buffy turned, flailing her arms as if he’d just asked her to scale Mt. Everest, and sending little bits of batter flying through the air. Her eyes were sparkling in the early morning light that filtered in through the window, and he felt a crushing need to be closer to her. Still, this was already going too well, even with her obvious frustration. He didn’t want to ruin it.
He always ruined it.
“Well, I can’t tell you if I don’t know yet, can I?” she cried, giving him a pointed look before returning to the breakfast on the stove. She grimaced as she stared down at the skillet. “I don’t think anyone’s going to want it.”
“I’ll want it, love,” he assured her.
She smiled then, the goofy smile he rarely ever saw from her, full of mischief and light. He couldn’t help but smile back. “You and me, then?” she asked.
“Does anything else matter?” he drawled, wondering why, exactly, everything seemed so… perfect suddenly.
“I guess not,” she replied thoughtfully. “Except one thing.”
“And what’s that?”
Instantly, Buffy’s face was mere centimeters from his, her green eyes staring up at him in accusation, if not outright loathing.
“How many mothers have you slaughtered, William?”
*****
Waking up with a gasp, Spike sat up in the cargo hold of the ship, Buffy’s words still echoing through his head as his eyes roamed the blackness.
How many?
How many…
And how were mothers any more important than fathers? Brothers and sisters? Tiny, mewling babies?
“God,” Spike croaked, bringing the palms of his hands to rest against his temples.
He could have already been back in Sunnydale, but the days after retrieving his soul… he was lucky he was still around at all. Or, he supposed, he should feel lucky. He didn’t; not yet. Visions of people he’d killed, tortured… raped. They’d all come back to haunt him with frightening clarity, visiting upon a mind that had forgotten the taste of guilt.
He’d tried to compose himself, as if he could shake off over a hundred years of murder with little or no thought. There really was no use, crying over people long dead…
Then, why couldn’t he stop?
As much as he loved Buffy, this wasn’t what he’d wanted. He had no better sense of right and wrong; the sodden spark hadn’t given him any moral clarity. He’d always known.
The soul gave him guilt, and the crushing weight of impending judgment, and there was no strength to be garnered from either. He’d never been one for making plans, but he’d intended to return to California a better person than he’d left, and now it couldn’t happen.
He was worthless.
*****
Buffy was dreaming.
Giles, in an unfamiliar room where the shadows in the corners battled with the waning afternoon light. Dusty volumes on dusty shelves.
Her watcher sat at a desk before her, a lamp that reminded her of the high school library illuminating his studies. It all seemed so familiar, and comforting.
“What’cha doin’?” she asked lightly, but her mentor didn’t acknowledge the question. He didn’t hear her; she was a ghost here.
Studying his furrowed brow, Buffy wandered over to stand behind him, looking over his shoulder. A thick text lay on the desk, full of words she couldn’t read. After many years of flipping through moldering books, she took a guess that it could be Latin. She had always left it to Willow to figure whether it was Latin translated from Sumerian, or whatever else was older than Latin. She only killed things, which usually didn’t involve heavy reading.
Next to the book, Giles was writing in his cluttered, unwavering script, and Buffy realized that he was translating a passage from the book. Something called the “Sanctus Conventus.” Not that she had any clue what that meant, but it looked sort of like a poem. She’d always liked poetry.
“Two halves,
One of darkness,
And one of light,
Shall know of one another,
And from this Union,
Shall come the Holy One.
Mortal, yet not.
Demon, yet not.
Impossible, yet not.”
Giles continued writing as Buffy’s eyebrows drew together in confusion.
“Can you learn to love through the eyes of another?” asked a low, melodic voice that Buffy would never forget, and she turned in surprise to see Tara standing in the middle of the room.
“Tara?” Buffy breathed, eyes wide with surprise before the witch’s words registered. “Wait— I thought I was full of love.”
“You are,” Tara agreed with a slight nod, smiling with encouragement as always. “But in a human heart, it can be so hard. There’s doubt, and insecurity.” She smirked. “I mean, what would your friends think?”
“Huh?”
Tara’s smile widened, as if she knew the answers to all the mysteries that plagued Buffy on a daily basis. “You should probably wake up now,” she suggested, a shadow of sympathy darkening her radiant face. “You’re going to be sick again.”
*****
Buffy ran to the bathroom purely by instinct; she was not completely awake until her hand reached blindly up to flush the toilet minutes later.
“Buffy?” Dawn called from the doorway of her bedroom. “Are you—“
“Yes!” Buffy managed to reply. “Go away!”
“Ew,” she heard her sister say just before she threw up again.
Dawn didn’t risk entering the bathroom until she heard the sound of Buffy brushing her teeth at the sink. “So you’re fine, huh?” she asked in a cynical tone.
Buffy spit, rinsing out her toothbrush. “You’re going to be late for school.”
Dawn crossed her arms, ready to argue. “I’ll go to school if you go to the doctor,” she replied.
“Dawn, I’m—“ Buffy turned toward her sister, preparing for another morning snipe-fest, but stopped herself, glancing at her reflection in the mirror.
She did look like crap. Damn it.
“You know what? I’ll go,” she relented.
Dawn’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Really? Wow, I wasn’t expecting to win this time.”
Buffy rolled her eyes. “You didn’t win. It really isn’t normal for me to be sick like this. It’s been a week. On top of that, I’m just… tired.”
“Told you,” Dawn said importantly, squealing and ducking out of the doorway as Buffy tossed a wet washcloth at her head.
*****
Buffy felt infinitely more tired after sitting in the doctor’s office for over half an hour. She’d filled out all the paperwork, and had already flipped through three aging issues of Better Homes and Gardens.
“Buffy Summers?”
Buffy sighed with relief as she looked up at the nurse. She just wanted this over with; a nap on the couch sounded like heaven at the moment.
Following the nurse into one of the exam rooms, she took a seat in on the exam tables as she waited for the woman to page through her very short file. “How are you feeling, Miss Summers?” she asked Buffy, never looking up from the chart.
“Well, I’ve been a little sick. I’ve thrown up a few times, and I’m a little tired.”
“Mm-hm. How long has this been going on?”
“Only a week or so,” Buffy replied. “I mean, I’ve felt tired for awhile, but life’s been pretty stressful lately.”
“Any allergies?”
Buffy couldn’t think of any; her mother had always remembered these things. “I don’t think so,” she offered. “I don’t get sick a lot.”
“Alright, and when was the first day of your last menstrual cycle?”
Let’s see. It’s the twenty-first of June today, so I should start on…
Buffy’s brow crinkled. She should have started her period nearly a week ago. She hadn’t even had cramps; no wonder she’d forgotten. She’d been late before, though, so the fact didn’t worry her. In May, she’d gotten it a few…
Buffy’s jaw dropped suddenly, and if the nurse had been looking in her direction, she was sure she would have looked like an idiot.
I never had my period last month, Buffy realized. I was a little worried about it, I remember, and then…
Warren had shot her, and killed Tara. She’d never gotten it at all, and in all the chaos that had occurred in the days after, she’d completely forgotten.
“Um…” Buffy struggled to speak, and the raspy quality of her voice finally caused the nurse to look her way. “It was in April,” she told her. “T-the sixteenth.”
“I see.” The nurse wrote quickly in the chart before standing up. “The doctor will be with you shortly.”
Buffy stared at the closed door once the nurse had exited, her mind racing. It was no wonder she felt so awful. Missing your period was bound to make you feel all ooky.
Buffy was fidgeting by the time Dr. Stevens entered the exam room, a caring smile on her face. “Hi, Buffy, how are you today?” she asked.
“Not so great, I guess,” Buffy replied, feeling like a teenage girl suddenly.
“So I hear. Now, we’re going to want you to take a pregnancy test,” Dr. Stevens told her. “And after that, we’ll see what else may be wrong.”
Buffy found herself giggling. “Oh, that’s okay,” she said. “There’s no way I could be pregnant.”
“Are you not sexually active?”
Buffy definitely felt like a teenager. A silly one. “Well… I mean, yeah, but—“
“Then, I’m sure it will ease your mind.”
“Okay, but… what else could it be?”
“To cause you to skip a period? Oh, it could be several things,” Dr. Stevens told her with a smile. “But pregnancy is the most common.”
“Oh.”
Buffy felt stupid as she was given a cup and led to the restroom. It was almost worth laughing, but she didn’t feel that would be very appropriate in the middle of a doctor’s office. Still, there wasn’t any way she could tell Dr. Stevens that she’d been incredibly sexually active, only with an undead man who, while a tiger in the sack, was as sterile as her examination gloves.
Returning the exam room, Buffy commenced to wait, and began to worry. She wished the doctor had told her what else could be wrong with her. What if it was cancer, or some other horrible disease? What if she died? Again? What would happen to Dawn?
“Miss Summers?”
Startled, Buffy looked up to see Dr. Stevens. “Uh, yeah?”
Closing the door behind her, the doctor took a seat across from the Slayer. “The results of your urine test were positive.”
“Positive… For what?”
Dr. Stevens smiled softly. “You’re pregnant.”
*****
Dawn let herself into the house that afternoon with every intention of making the world’s thickest peanut butter sandwich. She’d skipped lunch at school, which had consisted of an overly ripe banana and pimento cheese on stale bread, and she was ravenous.
She paused in the dining room, however, when she spied Buffy’s open purse on the table, along with a plastic bag that was stamped with the logo of the local pharmacy.
“Buffy?” she called, walking into the kitchen. There was no sign of her sister, and the basement door wasn’t open, either.
She did say she was tired, Dawn remembered. Maybe she’s taking a nap.
Heading up the stairs, Dawn’s brow furrowed as she heard the slightest of sounds. Almost like a hiccup, coming from the bathroom.
Dawn stopped in the hallway, sadness and surprise battling within her.
Was Buffy thinking about Spike?
Dawn didn’t know much about what had happened between Buffy and Spike before he’d left town. When Xander had first let it slip that Spike had tried to rape Buffy, she’d been in complete denial. She’d even been angry at Xander for suggesting such a thing.
She still hadn’t asked Buffy about it, but she had went to Xander later, and he’d explained how he’d found Buffy in the bathroom that night, bruised and crying.
The idea of Spike trying to hurt Buffy, really hurt her, didn’t fit with the memories of Spike she had from the previous summer, and she’d wanted so badly to ask her sister how things had went so wrong. She saw the empty look in Buffy’s eyes at times, as if she was missing something. Maybe it wasn’t Spike she was thinking of, but what if it was? Dawn found herself feeling the same way at times.
She wanted to hate Spike. She’d tried for days, and she supposed she was angrier at him than she’d ever been at anyone in her whole life. Hating Spike didn’t feel possible for her, though. He’d always been there for her. Still, how could he do such a thing? And if Buffy hated him, why couldn’t she mention him? She’d mentioned him often enough in the past when she’d been focused on either killing him, or trying to put up with him once he’d gotten the chip put in his skull.
Now, the vampire’s name was never mentioned. The few times Dawn had slipped, Buffy had seemed to go completely comatose for a moment before recovering. That dead look in her eyes that Dawn remembered all too well after Willow’s spell had brought her sister back from the grave would reappear, frightening her. There was no hate, or even fear; Buffy just looked lost at those times.
It was too confusing.
“Buffy?” Dawn called again, more softly this time as she approached the bathroom.
Her sister was sitting against the bathtub, her head resting on her knees as she sobbed quietly. “Oh, God, Buffy,” Dawn whispered, quickly going to sit next to her sister. “What’s wrong?”
“I…” Buffy seemed to struggle to say something, but dissolved into hiccupping little gasps for air once more, and Dawn forced herself not to panic. Instead, she put her arm around her older sister, who seemed so small to her suddenly.
Buffy leaned into her sister’s embrace, tucking her head under Dawn’s chin, which allowed the younger Summers to see the trash that littered the bathroom floor.
What the hell?
A small, cardboard box, ripped nearly in half lay in front of the toilet, and Dawn saw the letters “E.P.T.” clearly printed in purple across the side.
The test lay on the sink. Two of them, actually.
“Buffy…”
“Dawnie, I don’t know what to do!” Buffy whimpered, her voice muffled as she spoke into Dawn’s shoulder. “I th-thought they were wrong, they had to be wrong, but they all say I am, and I had that dream, and—“
“Buffy.” Dawn sat up, looking down at her sister in shock. “What are you saying?”
“…I’m pregnant,” Buffy replied, her voice cracking.
“What? I mean, how? I mean, I know how, but… how?” Buffy had barely left the house within the last month, and when she did, Dawn had been right there with her, except for patrol. She’d thought Buffy was done with keeping secrets.
“Dawn, I’m almost two months pregnant,” Buffy told her, wiping at her eyes.
“Two months? But weren’t you and Spike…” Dawn let the sentence fall into nothing, trying not to become angry. “Who else, Buffy?”
“…What?” Buffy asked in confusion before understanding filled her eyes. “Wait, you thought I would… Dawn, I know Spike and I weren’t a perfect couple or anything, but there wasn’t anyone else.”
“You’re saying… it’s Spike’s?”
Buffy’s eyes widened, as if hearing the words from Dawn’s mouth made it all real. “I-I guess it is. It has to be.”
“Oh, my God,” she whispered, her eyes growing just as wide as Buffy’s.
“I had a dream this morning,” Buffy said softly, her eyes fixated on the bathroom floor. “Something about a union, or something. I should call Giles.”
Dawn could see the reluctance in her sister’s eyes. She looked so unbelievably tired, and more frightened than she’d ever seen her. This wasn’t the Slayer sitting next to her; this was her snotty, swollen-faced sister, and she looked scared to death.
“Buffy, why don’t you let me call? I swear, I won’t say anything.”
“I guess that would be okay. Tell him it was the ‘Sanctus Conventus.’”
Dawn’s brow furrowed. “The Holy Union?”
“Oh, God,” Buffy moaned softly, rubbing her temple with a shaking hand.
Dawn stood, helping her sister up. “No worries, Buff. Let’s get you into bed, and I’ll worry about Giles.”
“Are you sure?” Buffy asked, sounding half asleep already.
“You bet.”
Once Buffy was tucked comfortably into her bed, Dawn let out a shaky sigh, and momentarily considered pinching herself to make sure she wasn’t the one having a crazy dream.
She nearly called Giles before remembering that it was approaching midnight in Westbury. He’d be alarmed if she called at such an hour, and would probably want to talk to Buffy.
“Buffy’s pregnant,” Dawn whispered as she stood in the hall, unable to believe the words.
What would happen now? The next obvious step was to let everyone else know, right? Unless Buffy decided she didn’t want to keep the baby, but that was too sad to think about. Sure, it might be a little vampire baby, but what if it wasn’t? Couldn’t it be a normal baby?
Dawn didn’t envy her sister in the least. Giles was going to have a British fit (she fleetingly wondered what that would look like), and Xander…
God, Xander was going to shit.
It was then that Dawn made a decision.
First, she was going to clean the bathroom. After that, she’d make herself some dinner, and maybe some soup for Buffy if she didn’t sleep too long. First steps first.
Then, she was going to stand behind her sister, no matter what she decided to do.
Dawn had the feeling Buffy was going to need it.
*****
Westbury, England
Giles was just done pouring tea for himself and Willow when he heard the phone ringing in the study. Looking out the window to see the redhead meditating peacefully in the yard, Giles walked toward the front of the house to answer the call. “Hello?”
“Giles?”
Giles smiled. “Hello, Dawn. How are you?”
“Oh, I’m fine. You?”
“I’m good.” He glanced at the clock on the wall. “Isn’t it quite late in the States?” he asked her.
“I’m a big girl,” she assured him. “Besides, it’s only midnight. Anyway, I needed to ask you something.”
“Of course.”
“Buffy had a dream, and she wanted to ask you about it, but she’s not feeling very good. She thinks it was some sort of Slayer dream, maybe.”
“Really? What about, exactly?”
“Something called The Sanctus Conventus.”
“The Holy Union?” Giles asked skeptically. “I’ve heard of it, yes. It’s one of the oldest prophecies recorded, but I don’t see how it would be of any importance to Buffy. Besides, it’s very vague.”
“I’m sure it’s no big,” Dawn told him. “She just seemed sort of wigged about it.”
“I see. Well, I’ll research what I have on it. Could you have Buffy call when she’s feeling better?”
“Yeah, no problem! See ya!”
Giles returned the phone to its base, looking back to see Willow standing in the doorway. “Tea’s cold,” she informed him.
“Yes, sorry,” he said distractedly.
“Important call?”
“I’m not sure. Dawn just called to say Buffy had a dream about the Sanctus Conventus.”
Willow’s brow wrinkled. “Buffy’s pregnant?”
“What?” Giles asked, his voice almost sharp in surprise.
Willow smiled impishly, contrasting the dark circles that rested under her eyes. “Kidding, Giles. I just remember seeing it in Black’s Abridged Oracles once. It’s about some holy child, right?”
“If I remember correctly, yes. I’ll start looking after tea.”
“I can handle it, if you want to get started.”
“It’s quite alright, but thank you. I doubt the information is crucial; if it was, Buffy would have called herself.”
*****
“No.”
“Xander, I—“
Xander stopped pacing the living room floor long enough to focus his heated glare on Buffy, who sat on the couch with Dawn. “I can’t believe this.”
“It is rather difficult to comprehend,” Anya commented from her seat in the armchair.
“Buffy, what are you going to do?” Xander demanded. “I mean, you’re telling us you can’t patrol, which leads me to think you’re keeping this thing.”
“Thing?” Dawn repeated, ready to defend her sister, since Buffy looked like she might throw up at any moment. “You don’t know that.”
“What else could it be, Dawn?” Xander retorted, waving a hand in Buffy’s direction. “It’s the baby of vampire. It might be killing her from the inside-out, while you two are sitting here contemplating its safety.”
“Look, Xander,” Buffy spoke up. “I can’t make any decisions until I hear from Giles.”
“And then what?” he asked, wiping his hand across his chin.
“I don’t know,” she replied. “I can’t exactly plan without a little bit of info. Maybe it’s a demon, but maybe it’s perfectly normal.”
“Or it could be a dhampir,” Anya threw in.
“A huh?” Dawn asked.
“Dhampir,” Anya repeated. “A being with one human parent, and one vampire parent.”
“Are you saying this is a common thing?” Xander asked in disbelief.
“No, but it’s not unheard of. Of course, the only time it happened was in Romania, and from a botched spell by this idiot sorcerer who called himself—“
“Ahn,” Xander interrupted. “Back to the point?”
She sighed heavily. “Dhampirs were strong, yes, but they had souls. They were almost completely human.”
“Almost,” Xander chuckled mirthlessly. “Great.”
“Guys, can you do the patrol thing, or not?” Buffy asked tiredly.
Xander looked as if he had another sarcastic remark ready, but after a moment he only nodded. “Yeah. Sure.”
“Thanks. I’ll let you guys know what Giles has to say.”
Once Anya and Xander were gone, Buffy settled back against the sofa cushions with a sigh. “That went well.”
“Better than I thought it would,” Dawn admitted.
“It’ll get worse,” Buffy predicted. “I know how much Xander hates Spike, but this isn’t about that. It’s not like I asked for this to happen.”
“I can’t believe he just wants you to get rid of it, though. He’s still making googly eyes at Anya, and she’s a demon again.”
Dawn sighed, and Buffy could hear the exhaustion in it. The girl had been walking on eggshells ever since she’d known about the pregnancy. She’d been up before Buffy the past two mornings, having a yogurt and juice waiting on the counter. Ever stranger was the fact that Dawn, usually full of the difficult questions, hadn’t been asking any at all.
Buffy smiled softly. “Thanks, Dawnie,” she told her, reaching out to stroke her sister’s long hair.
“For what?”
“For being all supportive, and stuff. I know Spike isn’t your favorite person, either.”
“Definitely not,” Dawn grouched. “It’s not about that, though.” She looked thoughtful suddenly. “Buffy… what about Spike?”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, if the baby’s not all demon-y, and he comes back…”
Buffy nodded. “I’ve thought about it.”
“And?”
“It all depends on when he comes back,” she replied. “I don’t know why he left, or where he’s been, or if he’ll try to kill me when he gets here.”
“But don’t you think he left because…” Dawn trailed off, unable to finish.
“Yes, but I have to think of the reasons, don’t I? He could have left because he honestly felt bad for what he did, or he could have taken off because he was afraid I’d kill him. Of course, there’s the even worse theory that he left looking for a way to kill me.”
“Buffy, if Spike wanted you dead, there’s plenty of stuff here that would probably be more than happy to try.”
“I know, but I can’t rule it out. I just have to wait.”
Dawn decided to risk asking another question, since her sister was actually communicating. “Do you, um, want him to come back?”
Buffy’s eyes met her sister’s, and it seemed to Dawn that she thought of lying for a moment before reconsidering. “…I don’t know, Dawnie. I just know that he will.”
“But how do you know that?”
Buffy hugged her knees to her chest, taking a deep breath. “Because. Spike always comes back.”
*****
“Two halves,
One of darkness,
And one of light,
Shall know of one another,
And from this Union,
Shall come the Holy One.
Mortal, yet not.
Demon, yet not.
Impossible, yet not.
And she shall begin
The Triad.”
Giles sat back in his chair, removing his glasses as he stared down at the translated lines with growing alarm. “Dear Lord, I had no idea.”
“No idea of what?” Willow asked from the other side of the small study, where she was reading a book on healing correspondences.
“The dream Buffy had. The prophecy she asked about is connected to The Triad.”
“Triad?” Willow asked dubiously. “Isn’t three a rather big occurrence as far as prophecies go?”
“Yes, but The Triad itself…” Giles trailed off, trying to recall anything he’d read. “It’s mentioned in a countless number of texts. It’s been discounted as little more than a fairy tale, though.”
“Why’s that?”
“Well, because it’s so optimistic.”
“How awful,” Willow quipped, trying to hide her smile behind the thick book she had propped on her knees.
“I’m sure you’ve noticed that any prophecy usually foretells of something evil, and even if there seems to be a hint of good within it, it can be easily misconstrued.”
“Tricky little buggers.”
“Precisely. The fact that the prophecies on The Triad seem to tell of three immortal warriors, who may or may not cleanse the world of evil leaves one to believe that such a thing appears too good to be true.”
Willow closed her book, her brow wrinkled. “Why would Buffy be dreaming about these guys, though? If they’re even real, I mean.”
“I’m not sure. Possibly, if The Triad does exist, it may mean they will appear in Sunnydale.”
“Wouldn’t that be a good thing?” Willow asked hopefully.
“I’d hope so, but while there are many things written on the good The Triad will do, there are just as many on the creatures who would seek to destroy them. If these three do exist and are on their way to Sunnydale, Buffy could be in quite a lot of trouble.”
“Oh. Not good,” Willow commented worriedly.
“Not at all, I’m afraid.” Glancing at the clock, he figured it was two in the afternoon in California. “I suppose I should let her know.”
Willow waited to see if she would be asked to leave, but Giles said nothing as he picked up the phone, dialing the Summers home. She didn’t miss the light in the watcher’s eyes when Buffy answered; she knew Giles missed Buffy as much as she did.
As the conversation continued, however, Willow quickly grew worried by the expression on his face.
“Are you sure?” Giles asked again. “Yes, of course. I’ll continue looking.” Hanging up the phone slowly, Giles stared into space.
“Giles?” Willow asked with concern.
Seeming to just remember Willow was there, he looked up at her, his eyes filled with something too close to panic to for the witch.
“Buffy… She’s…”
“What, Giles? You’re scaring me.”
“She’s pregnant.”
“She’s… what? Buffy? Is she sure about that? And… who?”
“Spike, apparently.”
Willow‘s eyes bulged. “But… other than the obvious, he left, right?”
“She only just found out.”
“So, what does this mean?” Willow needed something to go on, since accepting what Giles had just told her was impossible at this point.
“It means that if Buffy’s dreaming of this prophecy, her and Spike could very well be two members of The Triad.”
“Oh… And baby makes three…”
“Right.”
Giles still had the thousand-yard stare, so Willow took it upon herself to get up and start with the research. Research was of the good right now, definitely.
*****
“I’m glad there haven’t been many vampires around lately,” Anya commented as she walked with Xander through Sunnydale Memorial Gardens that night. “Because even though I’m a vengeance demon again, I still think I would suck at killing them.”
“I know of one I’d like to kill,” Xander said darkly as he sidestepped a grave marker that had toppled over, either on its own or from some sort of vandalism.
“You’re talking about Spike, aren’t you? I can’t see why you’re angry at him for this.”
“What?” Xander asked incredulously.
“I know you hate him, Xander, but it’s not as if he planned this. Vampires are completely sterile. How was he supposed to know he wasn’t?”
“It’s not the fact that she’s pregnant, Ahn. It’s just that I keep trying to forget the whole thing, and now here’s a permanent reminder. Not only that, but Buffy doesn’t seem exactly upset over it.”
“Well, who would be upset over a baby?” Anya asked, before looking thoughtful. “Well, I supposed unwanted pregnancy is something of an issue these days, but they’re so cute!”
Xander inhaled deeply, trying to calm the nerves that Anya seemed determined to fray. “This isn’t a baby, Ahn. It can’t be; not a normal one.”
“It could be, actually.”
“Why are you saying these things?” Xander asked, a hint of pleading in his voice.
“Because Xander, you never want to face these things, and it’s why you completely implode when they happen. Buffy’s pregnant, and its Spike’s, and it could be normal. You need to deal with this now.”
“And what if I’m right?”
“Then, you can do a little victory dance in front of everyone, and tell us what a smarty-pants you are. Your way of looking at things has always confused me, but I never said anything before, because I was too busy loving you.”
“And now?”
Anya stopped, looking at Xander with apprehension. “What do you mean, ‘now?’ I’d really rather not discuss my feelings for you in a graveyard.”
Xander sighed. “Not that,” he replied, unable to look at his ex-girlfriend.
“Oh, you mean your complete denial of the world around you?”
Xander’s eyes widened at Anya’s brutal honesty.
“It’s simple, really,” she told him. “You see everything as good or evil, and refuse to acknowledge even the smallest of gray areas, when in reality, it’s all gray. And instead of accepting it, and moving on with your life, you just keep allowing your head to explode.
“I was evil for longer than you can imagine, Xander, and when I was human I still had fond memories of the vengeance I exacted. While you never appreciated me bringing up my past, you were perfectly happy to allow me to be your girlfriend. Because I’d changed.”
Xander let a chuckle slip out of him, though it was a sad attempt at laughter. “Yeah, and we both see how long change lasts, don’t we?”
“See, Harris? There you go, trying to simplify things again!” Anya exclaimed angrily. “Yes, I’m a demon again. I had a weak, vulnerable moment, just like any other human, and I made a stupid decision.”
“Stupid?” Xander echoed, confusion lighting his face.
“Yes. Stupid,” she admitted. “While vengeance is lovely idea, it’s much harder to act on it when you’ve lived among the mortal world. I’m a pathetic joke now.”
“You haven’t been… getting your vengeance on?”
Anya rolled her eyes. “Oh, sure I have. Business is booming. I can’t go anywhere without some whiny girl wishing her boyfriend would turn into a frog.”
“A frog?”
Anya looked at him sheepishly. “I made him French.”
Xander stared at her in shock for several seconds, and Anya was expecting another speech riddled with her lack of morality when Xander burst out laughing.
“What?” Anya cried defensively.
“A… a frog!” he wheezed, bending over in laughter. “Oh, that’s priceless.”
Anya couldn’t help but smile a little herself. “I suppose it was creative.”
Taking a few moments to calm down, Xander stood upright once more, looking much calmer. “So, I need to deal, huh?”
Anya gave him a quick nod. “I know you can’t see it, with your silly insecurity, but Buffy needs you, Xander. You were a jerk.”
“I was,” he agreed. “Still, I just can’t understand…”
“You don’t need to understand,” Anya said. “You need to be her friend. I don’t understand you at all, but here I am, watching your back just the same.”
Xander grinned. “Yeah. I guess you are.”
