51. The day I went home from the hospital
Taking Xander’s offered hand, I pulled myself out of the front seat of his rental car and found myself on the sidewalk in front of my house, the sky above grey and heavy with clouds. I stared up at the front door and felt a wave of sadness filling my heart. I’d managed to set aside the melancholy in the hospital because between the doctor and nurses and visiting friends, my body and brain had been otherwise occupied.
Now, the front door loomed, and though I knew Carrie was inside freshening things up, I knew seeing the empty house would stir some long-forgotten depression lingering in the back of my mind. Beyond simple sadness, I felt it there, threatening to drag me back into the dark pit I’d barely pulled myself out of so long ago.
Carrying my small tote bag, Xander didn’t say a word and waited for me to move forward. Though there was a small smile on his face, the fear behind his eyes told me that he was as worried about Willow and Dawn (and maybe even Spike) as I was. That was validating at least.
I matched his smile and headed toward the door, my feet dragging although my leg was healed. The doctor and nurses had been amazed at how quickly that happened. Maybe it was something about how sad I seemed, but they didn’t question me.
“Hard to think about going inside,” Xander said, a tinge of knowing in his voice. “Empty houses are. . . empty.”
I glanced into his kind brown eyes and gave him a close-lipped smile. “Yeah.” My son kicked me, a reminder that I had to keep going. “Better to rip off the Band-Aid.”
Xander put his arm around my shoulders, reminding me that I was not alone, not really. “C’mon. Carrie and I are staying a while. We can even forego the hotel and stay here if you like.”
As if on cue, the front door opened, and Carrie appeared in the doorway, a broad smile on her face, the same softness in her eyes as my friend. “Hi! Are you coming in? It’s awfully humid to be standing about.”
Xander and I joined Carrie on the porch, and as Xander removed his arm, Carrie gathered me up in hers, her long blonde hair silky against my cheek. She smelled of sugar, syrup, and chocolate, a scent that trailed out from the front door as well. I simultaneously felt grateful and disheartened by the difference between now and what the space smelled like when Spike and Dawn were home.
As Xander eased around us and entered the house, Carrie pulled away. “I hope you don’t mind, but I tidied things up a bit and made a syrup sponge pudding. If you’d like, I can serve you a bit with some hot chocolate.”
Tears filled my eyes at the mention of hot chocolate, but before Carrie could look dismayed, I pushed past the despondency and said, “Sure. I’d love some. Thank you.”
Trying to stay detached, I forced myself to look around my small home as I followed Carrie through it. She’d arranged Dawn’s scattered belongings and the bassinet in the corner of the living room, straightened the bathroom countertop, and made the bed, which Spike always left a rumpled mess. Xander was already in the kitchen and had placed my bag on the end of the bed. On any other day, I would have thought the kitchen smelled heavenly, but today, I sagged onto one of the kitchen chairs.
Before I could say anything, Carrie deposited a plate full of dessert in front of me with ice cream on the side. Xander brought over spoons and handed me one along with a napkin.
Carrie sank into the chair across from me after retrieving plates. “I didn’t have time to make a custard to go with it, so there’s ice cream instead.”
I accepted a mug of hot chocolate from Xander, who’d poured three mugs from the pot on the stove. “That’s fine.”
I poked at the dessert with the tip of my spoon as the pair of them watched me expectantly. I wasn’t sure what they were wanting from me. Evidence that I was okay? My review of their efforts? I certainly didn’t feel okay, and I didn’t have the energy to reassure them. Instead, I slowly ate, focusing on the sweetness in my mouth. Xander and Carrie seemed to relax into the food consumption as well, and we were all quiet.
After Xander scraped the last of the syrup and ice cream from his plate, he settled against the back of the chair and took a sip of hot chocolate. “We’re going to find them. They have to be okay.” The uncertainty in his tone despite his determination made me realize again that he was terrified, too.
When I didn’t say anything right away, Carrie said, “Willow is a powerful witch, and Spike is a powerful vampire. And your sister is apparently powerful in her own way. I don’t doubt that they will all be okay even if Illyria is a god of some sort.”
Xander took her hand in his free one. “It’s the god part that worries me. We faced an unstable hell god before, and well, it didn’t turn out so well.”
He glanced at me with the last part, a lingering pain in his eyes over my death and the way they’d brought me back. I smiled at him and shrugged. It was a long time ago.
“The positive reframe isn’t so helpful, is it?” Carrie said in defeat.
“No,” I said, sitting up in the chair and leaning forward toward her. “Positive reframes are needed. I need them because my head is all with the doom-and-gloom. The funk is not my friend.”
“The funk?” Carrie asked in amusement. “Is that what you call the dark cloud over both your heads?”
“Yep.” Labeling it chased it away for a moment, and I stood, bringing my dishes to the sink. Then, I returned to my seat but didn’t sit down. I needed to stand. “You two haven’t told me what you know about what happened.”
Xander laughed, a little half-hearted snuffle.
I frowned. “What’s so funny?”
“You. Standing there being commander-y Slayer with your baby. . .” Waving his hand up and down at me, he trailed off at a loss for words.
“Her baby bump?” Carrie asked, emitting a giggle, which made Xander snicker.
I turned sideways, ran my hand over my shirt, and stuck my stomach out further. I lifted both eyebrows. “You mean this?”
Xander responded by laughing harder, and soon, we were all laughing. Several seconds later, my ribs started hurting, and I was gasping a bit for air. I plopped back into the chair with a sigh. Baby was just starting to push closer toward my lungs.
“I give up.” Propping my elbows on the table, I put my head in my hands, the dregs of despondency creeping back in. “What do you know?”
In response to my query, Xander slung an arm around the back of Carrie’s chair, his face serious. “The first I knew anything was happening was in a group text I got from Willow. She knew, even across state lines, that the wards had been tripped. All of us got a text alert, but the first notification was from Willow. I think she somehow attached the wards to her psyche, so she was first to know.”
“Damn. She is bloody powerful.” Carrie said almost to herself, her voice full of awe. “I’m thinking she could take Illyria.”
“Dawn’s phone got a text at some point, and when I went to check it, I noticed the ward had gone off.” I gestured at my chest. “It was all green and glow-y.”
“Willow sure loves her green,” Xander mused.
“That’s what I thought. Right after I noticed the ward though, I got knocked out, so I never saw the text.”
Xander continued, “Spike was in the group text, and all he said was that he was on it. He left work and raced to the location that Willow sent him. I’m assuming that’s where you were last. The next thing I knew was that he was texting us to say that Illyria had Dawn.”
“I sent him a text from Dawn’s phone,” I explained. “But I’m sure he also smelled them.”
“The vampire smell thing is so fascinating,” Carrie added. “I sometimes wonder why we don’t have heightened senses. Aren’t Slayers also part demon?”
Her light comments were helping me stay afloat, and I offered her a grateful smile. “Yeah. You’d think we’d get that, too, but trust me when I say, you wouldn’t really want it. The smells alone would drive me crazy. I can’t imagine how the Quarter would smell if I had vampire senses.”
Xander had taken Carrie to Bourbon Street during their visit at Christmas time. She’d not been a fan, but she had enjoyed the quieter and decidedly less malodorous Frenchman Street when they’d gone to the bar where Spike worked. She wrinkled her nose at the thought of a heightened sensory experience in the Quarter. “Good point.”
With a grimace, Xander set aside his mug of hot chocolate, pushing it to the middle of the table. “As soon as Spike texted about Illyria having Dawn, Willow texted that she was going to teleport to Spike. When Spike didn’t reply, Willow said she was leaving and to get in touch with Oz.”
I reached for Xander’s mug for something to do with my hands. I fidgeted with the handle, tracing my finger on the inside of the ring. “Angel told me that she teleported. I had no idea that was in Willow’s wheelhouse.”
“I don’t think she likes doing it. She said it hurts. Makes her nose and ears bleed. Once she does it, she can’t do it for a long time.”
“Oh, golly,” Carrie said, frowning and running her hand through her long hair to push it off her forehead. “I don’t blame her then.”
“Angel must have shown up in there somewhere because he said he saw Willow. What I don’t know is how Spike decided to go after Illyria and my sister.” I was still confused by this. I had no doubt that Spike had chosen to do so for good reason. I only hoped I got the chance to ask him.
Xander shook his head. “No idea on that part. All I know is that Willow and Spike were planning on looking for a demon of some sort that could travel between dimensions. Something about how they help their meal ticket get pregnant in this dimension by eating some form of plant. It sounds way ridiculous.”
“But not unheard of,” Carrie noted. When we stared at her in surprise, she added, “I mean, there are a handful of demons who can. Kathleen and I are. . . what does she call it? We’re study buddies.”
“You’re right about other demons,” I said, thinking of D’Hoffryn, my college roommate, and others. “And Giles would be proud.”
She gave me a conspiratorial look. “Don’t tell him, but we just started after that last Group Me chat.”
I laughed. It seemed like the last laugh was helping me find humor again despite my underlying anxiety. “I won’t.”
Carrie pointed a finger at Xander. “You either, mister.”
Xander raised his hands, palms to her. “You don’t have to worry about me. Speaking of Giles, he’s on his way. I think he’s on a flight with Oz. You probably saw it in all the texts.”
“How’s Oz holding up?” I asked. He had to be so worried about Willow and Dawn. “And I haven’t seen any texts. My phone’s been here the whole time.”
Carrie snapped her fingers as if she’d forgotten to tell me. “I found it by the recliner. The battery was dead, so I plugged it into the charger on the bedside table. It should have power now. I’ll retrieve it. Just give me a sec.”
“Thanks.”
While she was gone, Xander answered my question, “You know Oz. When someone he cares about is in danger, he’s serious about finding a way to get them back.”
“I still remember that one time when Willow got kidnapped by the mayor. Oz was definitely not his usual laid-back-self.” God, that felt like so long ago. We were such kids, saving the world from evil.
Xander’s expression told me that he was thinking something similar. “We were so young.”
“We were.”
Carrie passed my fully-charged phone over my shoulder before she reclaimed her chair. I pushed the home button and saw that I had too many texts to take in all at once. The group ones were there, and there was one from Spike just to me. I opened that one first.
The text read, “Red showed up, and we’re going after the Bit. Spoke with Angel, and we agreed that me following Blue was the best plan. She’s dead tired of the ole poof, and I don’t blame her. The god trusts me in a different way than Angel. I’m banking on that. Got to get your sis back for you and well, for her, too. You know me and promises. Trusting you to hold up your end and not die on me. Love you.”
Tears welled again, but this time, I blinked them away with ease. Spike needed me to be strong, especially if he and my sister were in danger. I caught Xander studying me, and I wondered if he was trying to figure out if I was going to retreat inside my own brain like all those years ago. The difference was I was older. My brain and heart had overcome so much, and those pathways of healing were well traversed.
Before I could respond, there was a knock on the front door, and all three of us went to the door together.
Carrie hovered behind us with a stake in hand, and Xander and I took turns peering through the peephole. He and I exchanged glances, and he shrugged.
“What’s the password?” he boomed in a lighthearted tone.
“Xander, you know very well that there is no bloody password. Let us in!” Giles was already annoyed.
Carrie let out a breath of air, and Xander and I grinned. With a flourish, he swept open the door to my Watcher and Oz.
Eyes lingering on my abdomen, Giles gave me a once over as Xander confiscated his suitcase with a groan at how heavy it was. “Buffy, you look lovely. How is your leg?”
“Right as rain.” I lifted my knee into the air to demonstrate that my wounded leg was healed. My thigh hit the bottom of my baby bump, and the baby stirred. The change had been so subtle that I hadn’t realized how big he’d gotten.
“Good. We have much to discuss. Your home is temporary headquarters, so you can be as comfortable as possible. We’ll invite over George, Emily, and the other local Slayers and their Watchers. We need a plan for Illyria.” Giles hugged me and scanned the living room as he stepped inside. Though the space was neater thanks to Carrie, there were still a lot of new baby-related things. “I don’t remember it being so small.”
“Isn’t our bigger problem getting everyone back in one piece?” I asked as I smiled at our next guest.
Oz was carrying a grey duffel bag over his shoulder, his eyes heavy with concern, but his face impassive. “I have news about that. I’ve been in communication with Willow.”
52. The night we left for Texas
Interstate-10 in the middle of the night was eerily dark, the shining oasis of rest stops in tiny Louisiana towns few and far between. Seeing all the brightly lit, yellow Waffle House signs along the way was disconcerting after what Angel had told me about Illyria, and I couldn’t help but wonder if the blue god had forced my sister to stop at each one to take a morbid selfie. That thought alone added to my growing urgency to do something – anything.
Oz was driving one of the giant trucks in our two-truck caravan because there was no way anyone would let me drive anything bigger than a car. Liz slept in the extended cab’s back seat with Girlfriend’s fluffy head in her lap, her hand twined in the dog’s soft curly fur. The dog’s bright eyes were open and alert, but she remained still, mindful of her person’s state of relaxation. I smiled at her, and she lifted her head just a fraction, her tail thumping twice against the leather seat.
“How far behind are we?” I quietly asked Oz, desperate for some conversation to keep me grounded and awake. Liz’s dog and I had to take regular breaks to use the bathroom and stretch our legs, and Giles, Xander, Carrie, and Kishan were piled in the other truck we’d rented. Katie and Emily and their Watchers were staying in Louisiana in case of continued trouble there or in case any of our missing loved ones showed up.
Giles had entrusted George with communicating with the Slayers and Watchers at all the Hellmouths and mini-Hellmouths to collaborate with them on how to manage the aftermath of prophecy that had been foiled by Spike’s and my unborn son. All we knew was that two Slayers had died, but the rest had survived, and in all cases, the witch-vampires were dusted. One horrible fact played in my head over and over: three of the Slayers were forcibly impregnated by the vampire-witches. The good news was that the ritual couldn’t be repeated for another couple of centuries.
Oz flipped off the radio, which had been playing tunes from his iPhone almost inaudibly in the background. The music was just loud enough to cover up the rushing sound of tires over the pavement. “I think about 30 minutes or so. We should be coming up on Texas soon.” I had to strain to remember what I’d just asked. That’s how distracted I was.
Texas was normally about a five-hour drive from New Orleans, and we were meeting the Beaumont Slayer, Hana, at her mother’s small camping store. Her mother had graciously agreed to give us camping gear for official Slayer business. We were headed deep into the wooded heart of East Texas, which Hana had informed us was vastly different than Southeast Texas where she was stationed. She was also tagging along to help us in case Illyria came back to this dimension fully loaded and ready to fight. I wasn’t sure that three-and-a-half Slayers, two Watchers, a werewolf, one of my oldest friends, and a dog could take on the blue god, but I knew we’d put up a hell of a fight. We weren’t sure what we were going to do once we found the place where Spike and Willow had crossed over, but we knew we planned on at least staying for a bit.
“Have you heard anything?” I asked for what felt like the umpteenth time.
“Not since we were in New Orleans,” Oz admitted. Shortly after his arrival, he’d explained that before Willow teleported, she’d done some sort of mojo with him, connecting them together so that they could telepathically communicate with one another across the country. Interdimensional communication had been another kind of distance altogether, and he’d only received a handful of messages since then.
“How does it work again?” I tried to sound perky, the co-pilot helping to keep her captain awake without the benefit of caffeine. My attempt was admittedly more than a tad wilt-y. Our little caravan left the night after Giles and Oz arrived in town. We’d have left sooner, but people had to pack and plans had to be made, including little things like calling Spike’s place of work.
Oz kept his eyes steady on the road, the familiar timbre of his voice easygoing even with the strain of our mission. “It’s kinda like how one of those old-fashioned walkie talkies would sound. You and your sister ever have a set of those when you were kids?”
“Yeah.” Dawn had wanted them for Christmas, and I used to get so frustrated with her because she would turn them on and then whisper faux urgent, almost indecipherable messages at all hours of the night. Little did I know, I’d be up all hours of the night dealing with crises of a different sort on a regular basis not too many years after that.
Oz’s left hand slipped to the side of the steering wheel, and he turned on his blinker to pass a slower 18-wheeler. “Well, it’s static-y and not very clear. I mean, it was clear as a bell when she was in this dimension.” Willow had sent him a message of her and Spike’s location because they had had to act so quickly to follow the dimensional rift left by Dawn and lllyria. There had been no time for texting. She’d also conveyed that we should all gather there because they planned on coming out the way they went in, if possible.
“Willow was clear as day in Sunnydale when she communicated in our heads in a different way. Makes sense. And the latest message?” I’d heard him describe it, but I wanted – no, needed to hear it again. Somehow, it seemed like I might hear something new or think of some nuance to it that wasn’t so negatively tinged.
Oz eased us back into our original lane, glancing briefly at me. “I’ve been playing it over and over in my head since we’ve been out on the road.”
“This long, unending stretch of road.” I gestured in front of us into the darkness so thick that the headlights barely penetrated it. The lights from the truck’s dashboard made the cab feel small and safe. For some reason, I thought about how safe I felt with Spike in the rental car in Norfolk, the poorly lit parking lot boxing us in.
Oz’s voice still even, he said, “Right. And I don’t know if it means they’re in trouble or okay. All I get from it is that they’re all together. Willow, Spike, Dawn, and Illyria. And hey, they’re alive.”
“Or undead at least,” I half-heartedly joked, running my right hand over the firm swell of my belly. Baby wasn’t moving. He was probably asleep. Little bugger was starting to make me feel hot.
Oz was silent for several seconds, and then he said, “I heard, ‘Illyria. . . Dawn. Got power coursing through. Spike and I kill. Fred’s soul.” He sighed. “That’s all.”
I smiled at him. “It’s okay. It sounds ominous, but maybe it’s not?” Nope. I still couldn’t wrap my mind around how it wasn’t worrying.
“Maybe.” He paused for a few breaths and then added, “I’d know though.”
“What?” I picked up my plastic water bottle and forced myself to take a sip of the tepid liquid. I made a face, wishing there was a trace of cold in it.
“If Willow was dead. I’d feel it.”
I frowned. “I don’t know if I’d know if Dawn or Spike were. . . gone.” I couldn’t bring myself to say “dead.”
He tilted his head toward me again with raised eyebrows. “It’s because of the connection Willow created. Not sure I’d like it to be permanent. But for now, I’ll take it.”
“Ohhh. I wouldn’t want to be permanently connected to someone else. . . Spike or Dawn. My head is loud enough already.” I shuddered as I thought about how awful I felt when everyone’s thoughts were in my brain because that weird, mouthless demon infected me during senior year. “Plus, hearing all of their thoughts might piss me off. Especially lately when we’ve been confined to the house.”
Oz breathed out an amused huff. “I hear you.”
I decided to change the subject. “How’s it been? Being back with Willow.”
“Good. Really good.” His eyes briefly narrowed as if he was considering something. “Better.”
“How so?” I was really curious to hear his take on how it was to be with my best friend after what transpired between them.
Oz didn’t hesitate. “In some ways, it’s kind of like being together like before. When we were first together. We were really happy.”
“I remember.” Their puppy love was incredibly sweet. No pun intended.
“And it’s better because we’re older. We’re not so. . .” He pressed his lips together as if searching for the right way to say it. “Confused and full of angst, for lack of a better word. We both know that we want the other person. Only each other.”
“I get that. More than you know.” I sighed. “We were young once.”
“We’re not old,” Oz added.
I played with the loose ring around the opening of my water bottle, the plastic pressing into my skin. “I never thought I’d be this old.”
“I’m glad you are. I know Willow’s glad you are.” There were so many layers to Oz’s last sentence. I wondered how much he knew. Surely, Willow had told him about the time she brought me back from the dead and then later almost destroyed the world. She did say they’d done a lot of talking.
“Me, too.” That was at least honest at this point in my life. The memory of not wanting to be alive lingered in the back of my mind; it probably always would. But now, I had so much to live for, and Spike better be here with me to live it. He was the one who’d reminded me to live in this world in the first place. “I’m glad that you and Willow found each other again. She’s been not herself since Tara, and I think that you remind her of the pieces of her that can be happy. And if being old means we’re far less confused and angsty, I’ll take it.”
“You and Spike love each other.” Oz was making a statement.
But I answered him anyway. “Uh huh. He never gave up on me.” This was the well-accepted part of our story, but the truth was, I’d believed in Spike, too, a fact he often underscored.
“And you can’t give up on him now. They’re going to make it out of this.” Oz sounded unflappable, but I knew he was reassuring himself, too.
“You’re right. I have to believe that they will.”
“I believe that they will. I spent two evenings with the guy, and I could tell that he’d move mountains for you.”
“He would. . . he has.”
Oz closed off his air conditioning vents, and a push of extra cold air washed over me. It felt like heaven. Pregnancy was slowly forcing me into a state of being chronically hot. I needed the cool. Oz was kind enough to accommodate me even though it wasn’t the same as my nice cool vampire.
“You’ll be a good dad someday,” I said, grateful that he’d noticed my discomfort.
Oz half-grinned, his mouth slightly open for a moment before settling into a smile. That was his surprised expression. “What?”
“If you and Willow. . . you know. Have little werewolf-witch-y babies. Do werewolves have a litter? ‘Cause, you know, that might make Willow cranky.”
Oz’s laugh was refreshing amid all the seriousness. “No. No litters as far as I know. I should ask my cousin, Geordie. Last I heard, he got a girl pregnant right out of high school. He and I lost touch a while ago, but I could get his number from my aunt. I probably should find out for Willow’s sake.”
I couldn’t help myself. I pounced. “Does that mean that you’d consider it? Having babies with Willow?” Suddenly, I wanted my son to play with their someday kids.
The corner of Oz’s lip stayed up. “We’ve talked about it. Call me old-fashioned, but I want to make her an honest woman first.”
“Good for you.” I didn’t know how Willow felt about marriage; maybe she’d even prefer some sort of earthy Wiccan commitment ceremony.
“Have you and Spike talked about it?” he asked nonchalantly.
“What?” It was my turn to feign confusion. My hand reached up to touch the heart pendant Spike had given me at Jacques Imo’s. I’d put the necklace on for this trip, just to be close to him.
“Marriage.” Damn. He clarified. “I mean since you’re having a kid and all. Or even, despite that.”
At that moment, the bright blue sign of a rest stop flew by, lit by our headlights. A bathroom was close. “You’re going to kill me, but I have to pee.” It was the vicious cycle of pregnancy: drink lots of water to prevent dehydration and spend lots of time in the bathroom. I’d discovered that all the peeing that came with pregnancy wasn’t just about a big baby pressing against his mom’s bladder.
Oz gave me a funny look but let his original query go. “Okay. No need for killing. We’ll stop.”
As we pulled off the highway, I pulled the subject even further away. “What do you suppose Kilgore, Texas is like? And why do you think they call it Kilgore? Kill and gore. Is that supposed to be some sort of really bad pun?”
53. The twenty-eighth morning in Kilgore
Morning sunlight streamed in golden rays through the tall trees of the woods north of Kilgore. Hana, Liz, Carrie, Oz, and a reluctant Xander were engaged in a session of Tai Chi led by Angel in the small clearing near where Dawn, Illyria and later Spike and Willow had crossed dimensions. Girlfriend lounged at the edge of the group, head high and alert, her eyes alternately watching Liz and Angel.
His eyes clearly reading “rescue me please,” Xander kept glancing at me where I sat in a chair observing in the marginally cooler shade, feet propped on top of an ice chest. I smirked at him and shrugged a shoulder. He was as annoyed with Angel as I was, but the Slayers were enjoying the meditative movements and relaxing activity, and Carrie had wrangled her boyfriend into doing it with her. Xander sagged a little in response to my lack of save-age, and I gave him a short-lived grin.
I still wasn’t sure how Angel found this location given that I’d sent him away at the hospital, and no one had seen or heard from him since then. He’d just been here when we arrived. He said he solved the puzzle through good, old-fashioned detective work because he was lacking the extrasensory skills that came with being a vampire, but I wasn’t so sure. If Cordy were around, I would ask her if he’d become that good at on-the-ground detecting since he left Sunnydale, but she was gone, long dead, a casualty of this eternal war we were inevitably waging.
At my dismayed expression upon seeing Angel, he’d told me that he was worried about everyone involved, including Spike. There had been something in my ex’s eyes that told me that on that count, I could believe him. So, my trust was tentative, but he seemed eager to help, burying his nose in books with the Watchers, chatting with Oz about who knew what, and helping spar with the Slayers with a focus on technique due to his lack of preternatural strength. I, on the other hand, stayed as far away from physical contact with my ex as possible, out of loyalty to Spike but also because I was realizing that I couldn’t fight. Not now. I could never live with myself if something happened to my son out here in the woods, far from my trusted OB in New Orleans.
Slipping a Zantac under my tongue and taking a sip of my ice water, I felt the baby shift inside me. He tended to wiggle more if I drank something cold or ate something sweet. I’d taken to talking to him if I thought no one was listening. I ran both hands over the hill of my abdomen, marveling not for the first time how taut and stretched my skin had become in making way for my son’s growth.
I patted the place where I’d felt the movement. “Hey. It’s day 28 of our Texas campout. Daddy, Aunt Dawn, and Auntie Willow better get home soon. I’m tired of the heat and the mosquitos. And did I say the heat? Going back to New Orleans won’t help much with the heat or mosquitos, but at least, there will be air conditioning and snuggles with your daddy who is inevitably room temperature unless I warm him up.” The baby fluttered in response, so I kept going. “Speaking of which, I better check in with – ”
Chocolate-colored eyes sparkling with good humor, Hana flopped onto the ground beside me, knees bent as she pulled her long wavy hair into a messy top bun. Once her hair was situated, she crisscrossed her legs and grinned at me. “Talking to your little guy?”
I smiled at the taller Slayer. “Giving up on Tai Chi?”
She laughed and leaned over to me conspiratorially. “To be honest? It’s not my cup of tea. I mean, all the movements. They’re so slow and drawn out and dramatic. No offense to you if you like it. Or any of them.” She waved a hand at the group being led by Angel. “They seem to be enjoying it. Maybe it even helps them. Oz was telling me that all the Eastern philosophy stuff really helps with the werewolf. Me personally? I just need to move around a bit more and a bit more quickly.”
“I get that.”
Something about the younger Slayer reminded me of Faith – a kinder, gentler Faith who grew up with a loving single mom. Well, maybe she also kind of reminded me of me. Hana continued, “I just get caught up in my head when I attempt to meditate. The Watcher – well, mine – tries to get me to, but ugh, I just hate those days. Anything else? Sparring, patrolling, etc. I’m golden.”
Hana’s Watcher, Sam, was on the older side like Giles, and like Giles, he was tweed-wearing. He tended to stick with the more traditional training, but he did, at least, have a sense of humor, and he loved music. He even had his own country band that played at the local music festivals. Hana had told me that she pretended to be a reluctant tagalong, but she secretly loved his cover of George Strait’s “Adalida.”
I made a face at her. “Patrolling? Really? For me, that always involved a whole lot of alone time and with the waiting by the graves. Lots of thoughts.”
“A little birdie told me that you weren’t alone very often.” She nodded toward the group.
My heart tugged for the people in our group who were part of my original behind-the-scenes team – the team that Spike was initially insanely irritated by. Sometimes, he still was, but that was part of the Spike package. “This is true. I had more company than most past Slayers.”
“You had your friends. And you had Angel.” Her tone told me that she was trying to sound curious in a nonchalant way but failing miserably. She sighed. “Well, that was a little obvious, huh?”
I laughed. “Um, yeah.”
She leaned back on her palms and looked up at me, squinting a little as a ray of sun caught her line of sight just right. I saw a smattering of freckles on her nose. As she repositioned, she asked, “So, is there a reason he’s here now? I mean, the two of you obviously had a thing. Why is he here helping? I mean, I have an ex that I loved, but he isn’t hanging out, helping me stake vampires or stop apocalypses. Not that we have any apocalypses in the Golden Triangle. Or many vampires for that matter.”
“Kinda drew the short end of the stick for slayage, huh?” I drank more water. There was no forcing myself here; it was hot. . . or as Spike would say, “Bloody hell! It’s sodding sweltering.” I missed his voice. Even my voice for him in my head didn’t sound right.
Hana rubbed her lips together. “My mom’s relieved about that. She doesn’t love that I’m a Slayer. And I didn’t tell her you were the reason I am one.”
I’d come to expect and had experienced many consequences to the spell we’d performed in Sunnydale to empower all the potentials. This was one of the least problematic. Still. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s no skin off my back. I enjoy it. Like a lot more than I ever thought I would. I mean, if I ever thought anything like that would ever happen to me.” She shook her head as if clearing her thoughts and gazed out at the group. “But I don’t really think about it like that anyway – like something that happened to me.”
“How do you think about it?” She said she didn’t care, but I wondered if part of her did.
“The short of it is: shit happens to everyone if you live long enough. My dad died when I was six. My mom never let it get her down. She let herself grieve and wanted me to, too. There was never any doubt about that. But she always told me that things happen for a reason even if it seemed senseless at the time and that I’d end up touching someone else’s life because of my experiences. I’ve saved some people since I’ve been a Slayer. Real lives.” She drew her knees up then and hugged them to her chest. “That counts for something.”
I stopped studying her and focused instead on the movements of the group before me, realizing she’d just assuaged my lingering guilt for the moment. “It definitely counts.”
Everyone was following Angel with intent expressions on their faces. Even Xander seemed caught up in the motion despite the sweat pouring down his temple.
I sipped my water, the ice melting more rapidly than I would like. “I didn’t answer your questions about Angel.”
“Ha. It’s okay. You don’t have to.” I could tell she meant it, so I answered anyway.
I thought back to what Spike and I had talked about when Angel showed up in New Orleans. “Angel’s here for a lot of reasons. Spike and I thought it was because of me, but he also cares a lot about Spike despite a long history of competition between them.” The dynamic was oversimplified, but I was tired and didn’t feel like re-hashing the past. Slayers could read about all if it if they chose to read Giles’s diaries or the thesis on Spike.
“He probably also feels guilty about Illyria,” Hana said quietly. A bird let out a string of urgent chirps overhead, and another called back with another trill of notes. “For taking your sister and going after Fred.”
“Agreed.” I was starting to think there might be more reasons that he felt guilty about Fred than I would ever know. “God, it’s hot.”
“At least the mornings are somewhat cooler?” Hana offered in response. She was good with the positive outlook.
There was some excited chatter – human voices and not bird – from behind us. I tilted my head back and sideways to view Giles and Kishan huddled in one of our three large tents, peering at a volume on top of a pile of ancient-looking texts. Stainless steel coffee cup in one hand, Kishan was pointing at a particular line of text, which Giles hunched over, fingers touching the frame of his glasses.
“Ya know, you guys could come out where there’s actual sunlight. You’d be able to see the tiny words in that book better,” I said, half-teasing, half-serious. To the outside observer, I might look casual, but I was eager to know what they’d found now.
Giles conferred with Kishan and headed toward us. Kishan gathered up the large tome they’d been pouring over and followed.
“I could use some water.” Giles smiled at me, the tension in his eyes lightened just a smidge. That was a great sign.
I moved my feet and stood, squatting a little to flip open the cooler lid. Passing him a cold bottle, I asked, “So? You found something.”
“We did indeed.” My Watcher twisted open the top and took a couple of large gulps. I’d never seen Giles dressed so casually except that one time when he and my mom ate the enchanted chocolate bars that made them act sixteen. Now, the heat of the woods had driven him into shorts, a short-sleeved button up shirt, and Nikes that I had no idea he even owned.
Kishan bent and pilfered a water. “You know how we were worried if they could find their way back here to this time and this dimension?”
I shifted from one foot to the other. Was that even a question? I’d been worried about that from day one. “Yeah.”
Kishan poked at the page. “We found a spell that will allow us to send them a signal, especially since Oz only receives messages from Willow but can’t send them.”
“Cool. How does it work?” Hana asked, peeking over the crook of the younger Watcher’s arm. “Oh. It’s in another language.”
“Correct,” Kishan sounded amused. “It’s Sumerian.”
“Oh! The language Dawn knows.” I smiled at the thought of my sister knowing how to translate an ancient language. . . and more than one now.
“It works,” Giles said, “by means of a spell that Kishan and I will cast at the exact site of their transition.”
“Unknown exactly what will happen when we cast said spell,” Kishan admitted grudgingly.
“But the basic premise is that the magic will send forth some form of signal that will hone in on our missing friends and family and allow them to find their way back here,” Giles continued.
“Like magical bread crumbs?” I asked brightly. “Like Hansel and Gretel in reverse.”
Giles huffed with impatience but nodded. “A close enough metaphor.”
“And presumably Illyria will be included in receiving this signal?” Hana asked.
“Yes. The god will also receive the signal because it’s tied to whoever crossed over in this spot.”
“So, we should be prepared,” I said, crossing my arms.
Giles pressed his lips together. “We should.”
“Mainly,” Kishan said, “because other things can follow our comrades and come through into our plane.”
“Sounds peachy,” Hana said before stepping to one side.
Oz and Xander appeared in our little circle with Angel, Liz, and Carrie not far behind. Girlfriend wove between the group members to bump her head against my hand. I petted her without much thought. Everyone but the dog was sweating, including Angel. I wasn’t used to seeing that.
“News?” Oz asked, his jaw set. He’d received another message from Willow a few days ago, but he said it’d been so garbled, he couldn’t make out any of the words. Since then, we’d all been more apprehensive. Xander, Oz, and I had taken a short walk through the woods that evening, and the werewolf had teared up, something I didn’t remember seeing before.
Kishan smiled. “News, a little hope, and a simpler spell than we expected.”
True to what Kishan said, by mid-afternoon, the necessary preparations were complete. Giles and Kishan stepped carefully into the ring of stones surrounding the crossover point while the rest of us hovered on the periphery to watch. The Watchers each held one side of the book with the spell and had painted what looked like mashed up herbs on their cheeks, forehead, and forearms. Kishan started by chanting, foreign words pouring out of his mouth in a hard staccato. After several seconds, Giles joined in with a melody that was haunting and delicate but just as powerful. His notes wove between and around the steady beat of Kishan’s deeper voice.
The sun was high and the heat almost unbearable. Sweat trickled down my back and over my right cheek. As the magic filled the circle and reverberated out into the surrounding areas, a wave of dizziness overcame me. I blinked and spread my legs in attempt to stay rooted to the spot, but the spell rose in a rapid crescendo, and too late, I realized that I should have been listening to my body instead of pushing ahead and helping set up the spell.
I woke up on the ground with several worried pairs of eyes staring at me. I distantly heard Xander say, “Give her some room.”
Cool air swirled around me as the group stepped back, a moment of respite from the heat that rapidly settled in place again.
“Are you okay? Buffy?” Giles asked, kneeling next to me and pressing a cold washcloth to my head. God, that felt good.
Without putting much thought into it, I abruptly pushed up on one elbow. “The spell. Did it work?” Dizziness hit me again, and I collapsed back onto the densely-packed earth. “Damn it.”
“It did,” Oz assured me.
“Good. How long ‘til. . . ?” I put a hand to the damp cloth that Giles readjusted onto my head.
“We don’t know,” Kishan said.
“All I do know is that I insist you check into. . . what do they call it in this godforsaken town?” Giles grimaced in disgruntlement. “Comfort Suites.”
“No worse than the motels in Sunnydale,” Xander pointed out. “And there’s probably air conditioning and a nice comfy bed.”
“And a shower,” Liz said dreamily somewhere in the background.
“No,” I said, glaring at my Watcher.
“He’s right, Buffy,” Angel said softly, bending a knee at my other side. “The baby needs you to rest.”
I scowled at him, too. “Fine. I guess I need to call the nurse at my OB’s office, too.”
“We’ll be here if anyone. . . or anything comes through.” Giles’s words were less than reassuring.
“Text me,” I insisted.
“Will do,” Xander promised.
54. The night in the Comfort Suites
I was eating brunch with Illyria and Katie at the Waffle House just outside of Baton Rouge. They sat across from me, their heads so close together that the blue of their hair mingled together.
Her eyes bright and her body full of live-wire energy, Katie filled me in on her night of patrol on the LSU campus. She’d busted a couple of Grappler demons, who were trying to sneak into a frat party. As Katie got to the part about one of the Grapplers hitting his head on the keg and a frightened frat boy spraying him with beer, I felt a familiar tingle on the back of my neck.
Out of the corner of my eye, I swear I saw a flash of white-blonde hair and a black t-shirt. I turned my head in that direction, and Katie raised her voice, telling her story louder. Her laughter was too bright and long.
I saw nothing. Spike wasn’t there.
The vampire signal reasserted itself with greater strength. My hand on my belly, I knocked back the metal chair as I jolted to my feet, scanning the opposite side of the sunny restaurant.
Nothing. My heart sank into the depths of despair.
Katie was sipping her coffee, and I righted my chair, sitting back down and trying to hide my sorrow. The younger Slayer explained how Michael had to come out to help her dispose of the Grappler bodies.
My senses on hyper-alert, I half-listened, saying, “Uh huh,” and laughing, the sound false and exaggerated in my head.
Meanwhile, Illyria wasn’t paying attention to the conversation at all and was instead picking the pecans out of her waffle and staring with almost-crossed eyes at each one before depositing it in a tiny pile in the middle of the table.
Katie glanced at Illyria to ask whether she could have her pecans, but before the question was even verbalized, Illyria transformed into Fred, blue giving way to soft browns and a kindhearted smile. She said, “Of course.”
I startled awake.
The room was darker than a moonless night, the blackout curtains doing their job. My brain felt weighed down like I was trying to peer through a murky fog into reality. Through the cobwebs of my dream, I thought I heard the shower at the front of the suite and felt the faint tickle of the tingles from the Waffle House, but sleep sucked me back in before I could make sense of what I was sensing.
An indeterminable amount of time later, I felt the rush of cool air of the covers being lifted, the slight movement of someone sitting on the bed, and then a familiar form curl around me from behind. A gentle hand roved over my belly, and I settled back against him with a sigh of release. When he nuzzled my hair, my mind woke up.
“S-spike?” I whispered, my voice loud in the void.
His voice was deep and soft in my ear. “I’m here, Buffy. God, I missed you. So much. So tired.” He sighed heavily and snuggled closer to me like he didn’t want to let me go. I smelled the faint hint of the hotel soap and felt the dampness of his hair near my ear. He was real, right?
I couldn’t help myself, I had to see his face. Pushing up against the mattress, I flicked on the low lamp and shifted around. My senses weren’t deceiving me. His blue eyes squinted in the light, and he smiled at me like I was an oasis and he had been lost in the desert. His hair was wet, but I could see that it was longer and dark at the roots. He also looked like he’d lost weight, his clothes hanging loosely about his hips and belly.
After threading his fingers through my hair and then tucking some errant strands behind my ear, his eyes slipped from studying my face to the baby bump. “Good lord, pet, the babe is huge! I t-thought I might have missed it.”
Shoving aside my feelings of self-consciousness, I slipped closer again to him, my belly a wedge between us, our heads on twin pillows. Then, I gently asked him the question that he’d asked me so long ago. “How long was it where you were? It was 28 long days here without you.” I suddenly remembered my sister and stiffened with anxiety. “Dawn? How’s Dawn?”
He was quick to reassure me. “Your sis is just fine, love. Whole and healthy and happy next door. Think she had the same plan as me. Shower and then sleep. Red’s good, too. She and Oz are bunking down in the room with the Bit. They have a couple of beds.”
I relaxed. “Thank god.”
His exhausted, disbelieving eyes searched my face, moving his arm from my waist to cup my cheek. “I’m really here? With you.”
Bumping my head against his hand, I turned and kissed his palm. “You are.” I smiled. “And you didn’t miss anything. . . well, you missed a lot. But you didn’t miss the baby being born. Seriously, how long?”
“A hundred and eighty-five days.” He’d counted again, too.
I wasn’t surprised by the length of time. Not at all. Time always seemed to move faster in other dimensions. We were the slowpokes. In this instance, I was grateful for that. Thank goodness Spike, Dawn, and Willow hadn’t been gone a hundred years or more. “How many months is that?”
“Six, give or take. Longest six months of my unlife.” He pressed his hand with fingers splayed against my abdomen again. “Which is why. . .”
“You thought the baby would be here.” The baby began moving. “Baby woke up.”
Spike’s mouth hung open, and the fatigue in his eyes was pushed aside by pure wonder. “I felt her. . . or him.”
This whole moment felt surreal, especially after the bright confusion that was the Waffle House dream with Illyria and Katie. I layered my hand over his larger one on my abdomen, tears filling my eyes. “Are you really here?” I had to know before I told him about his son.
He shifted his hand, rubbing a gentle circle on my hip. “I already asked that, love.”
“It’s just I was having this dream, and – ”
Spike interrupted me by pressing his cool lips to mine, coaxing me into a lingering kiss that was full of longing after months of nothing. My heart thundering in my chest and my body coming alive with desire, I returned his affection in kind, reaching for other places and finding a strong welcome to greet me. He groaned as I touched him, and I smiled against his lips. In no time at all, we shed the barriers between us, and he turned me around and joined me. Consumed in sensation, we got lost in each other.
Not long after, we were both warm and satisfied. Spike laid on his back, one hand on my belly as I curled up facing him on my side. “Believe I’m here now, pet?”
I squinted my eyes and pretended to be uncertain. “Hmm. Maybe? I think so. Show me again? Slower this time?”
Turning his head on the pillow, he grinned over at me. “Later. We should talk before sleep.”
“I thought you were tired.” Now that he was here, I didn’t want to leave our little cocoon to face reality. Not yet.
His blue eyes were bright and much more alert than earlier. “Not anymore. Gratified one type of appetite, and now I’m peckish in an entirely different way.”
“Oh! We have blood.” I sat up with an awkwardness that was becoming more frequent. “I’ve been buying fresh every week. The butcher here thinks I’m crazy. He stares at my pregnant belly and wonders what I’m doing with all the blood. He’s very judge-y.”
Spike snorted, pushing himself up, too. “Pregnant ladies have some strange cravings.”
I located my clothes and redressed before heading for the cooler in the corner of the room next to my suitcase. “That’s just it. I don’t really have cravings anymore. Not since the first trimester. I’m thinking the whole cravings thing is a myth.”
“So, I won’t be driving to the grocer’s in the middle of the night for ice cream or spicy buffalo wings or jalapenos?” he teased, tugging on dark lounge pants he’d likely borrowed from Kishan.
I squatted sideways and opened the cooler, pulling out two containers of blood. “Um, no. All a myth perpetuated by the movies and TV. Well, at least, maybe for me. Heartburn, on the other hand, is way real. I’m taking Zantac and Prilosec now with my prenatal. All the acid apparently means our son will have a lot of hair.”
“What did you just say?” Oops. I didn’t mean to tell him like that. Spike was by my side almost before I realized he was moving.
Setting aside the blood, I smiled up at him. His beautiful face was full of wonder. Seemed we were both all with the shock-and-awe tonight. “Your son. My son. Our son. I didn’t find out on purpose. It was all tied to – ”
Spike knelt on the ground before me, pushing up my maternity top and putting a hand on either side of the roundness that contained our child. He pressed a kiss near my belly button. “Hello, son. I love you and your mum more than either of you know.”
I slid my fingers through his now dry, un-styled curls. “And we love you. You need to eat.”
Ignoring me, my vampire turned his head to press his ear against my belly. The baby did a somersault. My hands remained tangled in Spike’s hair, which tickled my sensitive skin, and he stayed motionless for what seemed to be an eternity.
Then, he whispered, “His heart is beating, and he’s rustling around.”
“He is.” I was so glad Spike could feel him now, and I wondered how much more I’d have a vampire attached at my hip. . . literally. Somehow, at that moment, I didn’t mind at all. I’d give anything to be crammed in the tiny house in New Orleans with Spike and Dawn.
“We’re having a boy.” He sighed with such happiness that my heart swelled with love for him.
“We are, and he already saved our lives.”
Alarm was written all over Spike’s face when he lifted his head. “He did?”
Several minutes later, I’d heated up Spike’s blood, and we’d settled on the sofa together with my legs slung over his lap and my aching lower back against a pillow. As he ate, I filled him in on what happened with Miney, Girlfriend, Angel, and the prophecy. I also explained what I’d since found out about the other pregnant Slayers. My brain still had a hard time grasping the magnitude of all of it. The three Slayers who’d been artificially inseminated had essentially been forced to do a twisted form of fertility treatment.
Setting aside the second empty blood carton, Spike patted my belly with affection as I finished the tale. “Good lad,” he said about our son making the ritual go kaput. “Already bucking the system.”
“He’s his father’s son for sure.” I couldn’t help smiling at this thought.
Spike arched an eyebrow at me and matched my smile. “And his mum’s.” Then, his eyebrows drew together slightly. “Pet, I’ve had some time to consider a lot of things. One of them involves Angel. We need to have a conversation with him.”
I wasn’t surprised by his thought. “No argument here. I’ve been thinking the same. We should talk with him together.”
“Yes, but not tonight. Tonight, I don’t want the poof involved at all because I might end up throttling him.”
“Agreed.” I needed to be with Spike. We needed each other, and I wanted to hear Spike’s side of what happened. I’d already heard enough from Angel. “Your turn. But first, can we skip to the end for a minute?”
“Right. You have questions about Blue?”
I shifted a bit at the mention of the god-king. “You read my mind.”
His expression grew serious. “Her body’s stable, and she came back with us, but how we got there is complicated. I’m thinking that we should wait for the Nibblet and the witch to tell the tale.”
I emitted a sigh of relief at the news about Illyria, and though I was disappointed, agreed with Spike. “We should.”
There was knock at the door, and I almost jumped out of my skin. All of this talk about what happened brought up memories. Spike and I both stood on alert.
Spike tilted his head, listening. “It’s okay, love. I believe it’s. . .” He headed for the peephole and peered through before swinging open the door.
Dawn rushed across the threshold and flung her arms around me. Her hair was cropped short in a jagged haircut, there was a gash on her cheek, and she, too, was thinner than she needed to be. She was wearing some of Hana’s clean clothes because I recognized the George Strait tee. The baby bump got in the way of her exuberance, and she glanced down and then back up at me with wide blue eyes. “The baby is huge!”
“Gee, thanks. So, I’ve been told.” My eyes flicked briefly to Spike who was smirking proudly, and then, I pulled Dawn into another hug. “I love you.”
She held me tighter. “I love you, too.” Then, my sister stepped back so that I could view my best friend, her pale face bright with joy despite the dark circles under eyes. Oz was holding her hand, probably for the same reason I’d clung to Spike. There were two large pizza boxes atop his other upturned palm.
Willow gave me a little wave. “Hey. Mind if we join you? We couldn’t sleep.”
55. The same night
Pizza consumed, I climbed onto Spike’s lap, and he grunted good-naturedly, his hand encircling my belly possessively. He’d polished off another couple of containers of blood, and his coloring was much better.
“Now that we’re all full, can we talk about what happened to you guys?” I ran my hand over Spike’s forearm. Still solid and whole.
Spike kissed my temple. “All right, love.”
Setting her empty plate aside, Dawn lounged next to us on the sofa and tucked her legs up under her. She’d even eaten the crust – something she never did. My poor sister had been half-starved, too. I stared at the healing cut on her face and her messy haircut and wondered how both happened. “Sounds good to me.” She tilted her head back as she took a large swig of Dr. Pepper. “I’m caffeinated and ready.” She held up the can. “I missed this. So much.”
“Here, here.” Willow licked tomato sauce off her pinkie as she laid on her stomach on the re-made bed, her feet swinging lazily in the air.
Sitting next to her, Oz was finishing one of the last pieces of the pepperoni, his thigh fast against her side.
“Where should we start?” Willow asked, finishing her task.
No one said anything for several seconds.
Then, Dawn spoke, “So, Illyria took me. Good place to start?”
My heart thumped in my chest. “I haven’t been that scared in a long time, Dawnie. When I ran after you, I felt this pain here,” I touched my abdomen, “and I had to stop, and then, you were gone. That vamp-witch was watching and grabbed me.”
“I got your text from the Nibblet’s phone,” Spike said, trembling almost imperceptibly, and I laced my fingers with his. Dawn laid her head on his shoulder.
“What was Illyria like?” I asked, studying my sister’s face.
She lifted her head. “At first, I was scared out of my mind. She took me to this car. I think she’d stolen it. It was dark, so I couldn’t make out the model, but it had leather seats. She drove fast and wouldn’t say a word to me. I did what you said I should do, Spike.”
“What’s that, lil Bit?”
“I talked with her about my life, about you and Buffy and how much I love you both, and about my hopes and dreams.”
“Good call,” Oz said, shifting around so that Willow could cuddle up against him.
“But she didn’t give me anything in return. She didn’t say anything. Didn’t look at me. Just kept on driving. She sat funny in the car. All stiff and straight-backed, but she drove like she was an Indy 500 driver down I-10. I swear, she almost hit a bunch of other cars.” Dawn sat up, one leg dangling off the sofa. “Wanna know the really weird thing?”
“What’s that?” Spike asked, nodding at Oz and then at the mostly empty pizza box. Oz took the cue and passed Spike a slice of the now cold pie.
“Even though we were going ninety miles an hour down the highway, she pulled off at every exit where there was a Waffle House. I still don’t understand it.” My sister shrugged.
I perked up and pointed at my sister. “Ooo! I heard she has a fixation with Waffle House.”
Dawn made a face. “Fixation is an understatement. She’d make herself look like the person she was before – ”
“Fred,” Spike clarified, his sure, affectionate, sad tone telling me everything about how he felt about the scientist.
Dawn didn’t miss a beat and kept going. “She’d make me sit with her in a booth, and I had to order a pecan waffle and bacon. Coffee. Same as her. Just that. She wouldn’t talk to me at all. Just stared out the window until the food arrived. Then, she made me take a selfie with her. She made me smile, and when I didn’t, she’d command me to in the god voice. We didn’t even eat the food.”
“That’s majorly weird,” Willow commented, the worried line appearing between her green eyes. She addressed me, “How’d you know – “
“Angel told me when I was at the hospital.” I peeled a piece of pepperoni off Spike’s slice of pizza. I wasn’t supposed to have cold cuts, but if the meat was heated before, I figured I was safe. In my mouth, it was like a little bit of heaven.
Spike jerked the pizza away toward Dawn who also snagged some pepperoni.
“Hey!” he protested. “Nicking the best part is not allowed.”
I could tell he secretly loved it and kissed him on the cheek. “Pregnant woman’s prerogative.”
Spike sobered and said with only a hint of edge. “How was he at the hospital. Did the grand poof try to steal you away again?”
Honesty was the best policy. “He did in his own subtle way.”
“I knew it. He just can’t keep his mitts off – “ Spike closed his eyes, his jaw clenching and hollowing out his cheekbones. A few seconds later, he drew a deep breath. “Sorry. You’re not my property. It’s just – him.”
Rubbing Spike’s arm, I added, “I told him to get out until he had news about you, Dawn, and Willow.”
Spike’s expression was one of self-satisfaction. “Good on you, pet.”
“How many Waffle Houses were there?” Oz asked.
Dawn glanced up at the ceiling, mentally tabulating. “At least ten. I stopped counting after a while and went with it. I thought about taking the opportunity to sneak off to the bathroom and find a way to borrow a phone or to run, but she scared me. She’s hella fast. Once we got past Beaumont, she started talking.”
“The fast thing must have been part of her body deteriorating again,” Spike said thoughtfully.
“What’d she tell you, Dawnie?” Willow asked.
“She told me that she needed my help. When I told her that my key-ness was dead and had been dead for like over a decade, she gave me one of those crazy blue stares. She said that I didn’t know my own power and that living energy could not be snuffed out by a thin cover of magic. Then, she said something even crazier.” Dawn paused for dramatic effect continuing, “She said that she could show me how to tap into it.”
“I’m going to go out on a limb and say that she showed you.” Oz’s smile was small and tight-lipped.
“She didn’t really give me a choice.”
Willow frowned and addressed Oz, “Didn’t you get my message about Dawn?”
Oz shook his head. “Mental messages weren’t exactly clear across dimensions. I got bits and pieces.”
I added, “And boy did those mixed-up messages give us the worries.”
Willow sighed. “Oh. That makes sense. Damn, I didn’t account for that.”
“Hey, it let me know you were alive. That’s the main thing in my book,” Oz reassured her.
“Want to see?” Dawn asked. I could tell she really wanted to show me and Oz, but she glanced at Spike and Willow.
Spike nodded. “You don’t need permission from us. Show them, lil Bit.”
Planting both feet on the carpet, Dawn sat up straight, her short, jagged bob making her slender neck look more vulnerable. She closed her eyes, her brow furrowing in concentration as she held up both hands with fingers spread and facing each other like she was holding a small ball. There was the sound of a pop and the scent of smoke that came with blowing out a candle. Then, the tiniest of sparks came alive in a glowing blue-purple color. The glimmer whizzed back and forth between my sister’s fingertips and palm as if trying to escape.
“Whoa,” I breathed. “Dawnie. You’ve got power.”
Dawn slowly opened her blue eyes as if afraid that the little world between her hands would disappear if she moved too quickly or looked at it directly. When nothing happened and the spark grew larger and more brilliant, she smiled. “I had no idea either. I’m still not sure I want it, but I think I am it. When I access it, it makes me feel like my body is humming. I feel more like. . . me.”
“I feel it, too,” I said softly, worry jetting through my heart.
Oz rubbed a finger over his lower lip. “I’m assuming the magic you’re channeling opens portals to other worlds.”
Dawn nodded. “It does.”
“I-it’s not going to attract baddies that we don’t want to attract?” I took in Willow and Spike’s calm demeanor. “Let me guess. You helped her with it.”
Willow nodded. “Yeah. It’s taken a bit of time – months actually, but your sister has it under control now. And no, it’s not unduly going to attract baddies like a moth to a flame.”
“Or a Hellmouth,” Spike interjected.
“It’s like any other magic,” Dawn said with a serene smile on her face. She was almost glowing.
“Does that mean you didn’t have it under control?” God, we should have known. Somehow, we should have known that my little sis had untapped magic. She was, after all, created from an ancient living power source that the monks had been protecting for centuries. Odds were, she’d been around for a lot longer than that. . . maybe even before Illyria’s time.
“I didn’t. But Illyria helped me unlock and siphon the power, so it wouldn’t tear me apart with the dimensional doorway between here and the other dimension.”
“How nice of her.” My sarcasm was strong. Baby kicked, and I smiled. Even he agreed with me. “How’d she even figure out about your. . . key-ness?”
Spike spoke up then, “According to her, she and Angel were researching ways to help her in that godforsaken library in Morocco, and she read something there about an ancient key. She didn’t tell Peaches about it because well, he’s Peaches. She started doing clandestine research as a side gig. Angel never even knew.” He sighed then added, “I think she did a lot of the digging when he was off traipsing through dimensions.”
“So, when she came to see us in Denver?” I asked.
“She picked up on something but didn’t know what it was.”
“You see. I was right to get out the sword!” Dawn said, giving me a pointed look. She closed her eyes again and delicately moved her fingers so that the lights winked out. Almost immediately, I couldn’t sense anything different about my sister. She grinned at me.
Oz addressed Willow, “So how did you and Spike find Illyria and Dawn?”
“I sensed the portal open. I was attached to Dawnie with her ward, and I think the combination of the two tripped something inside me.” She gave him a close-lipped smile and shrugged modestly.
Spike picked up where she left off. “I pulled us off the highway at the nearest rest stop when she got the signal, and she teleported us again.”
“Again?” This seemed impossible even given what I knew about Willow’s abilities.
She met my gaze evenly. “It was Dawnie.”
“Oh,” I whispered. A moment later, I thought of something else and asked Spike, “So, our Civic is parked at some random rest stop on I-10?”
This time Spike looked amused. “Nope. The witch here teleported the whole kit and caboodle.”
This startled me. “What? Where’s the car then?”
Willow sighed as if she was disappointed in herself. “My aim was a little off, so I’m pretty sure we left it in the parking lot at the Dairy Queen, but it is in Kilgore.”
“Still very impressive, Red. ‘Bout knocked her down for the count, too.”
Oz hugged her close. “You’re not doing that again anytime soon.”
“Don’t think you realize how powerful your woman is, mate. She did much more than that across worlds.” I could tell that the respect Spike had for my best friend had grown over the past six months.
Willow countered him with a dismissive wave of her hand. “I have better control over the magic inside of me, but it’s like anything. I’ve honed it, but I want more than that. I want to be more than that.”
Oz inclined his head at Spike. “I get what you’re saying.” Then, he spoke to Willow, tweaking her words just slightly, “You’ve always been more than the magic you wield.”
Her smile was lopsided, but her eyes shone with happiness that he saw her, that he got her. “Thanks.”
I poked Spike, and his blue eyes found mine. With one glance, he knew that I was thinking that was how he saw me – as much more than a Slayer. It was just as I saw him as much more than a vampire. He loved all the parts of me. . . the powerful-kickass-super-powered-Slayer parts and the vulnerable-tender-woman parts.
Dawn let out a happy sigh, her hands clasped and her face dreamy. “There’s a whole lotta love in this room.”
“Are you telling us to dial it down?” I teased. “Or get a room?”
“Not at all. I just want to find what you guys have someday.”
“You will,” I insisted, shifting out of Spike’s lap to sit next to my sister. I hugged her shoulders.
“Just not anytime soon. I’m having fun playing the field.” Spike gave my sister a funny look, and she added, “I’m enjoying my twenties. Thank you very much. Though George is pretty hot.” She hesitated and then, “As is Shane.”
Both of Spike’s eyebrows shot up. “No.”
“Why not?” Oh, my sister’s obstinate side was creeping out.
“We already discussed this, lil Bit.”
“And you never answered my question.”
“Because you only ever asked at right inconvenient times. And I did answer your question. The answer was and still is no.”
“But I asked why the no.” She glared. “And when was it inconvenient?”
“Let’s see. When we were fighting that gang of Phut demons.” Somehow, I wasn’t sure I wanted to know what demons Spike was referencing. “When we were chasing after Illyria when she got in that snit. When I was trying to get fifteen minutes of shut-eye after 48 hours of none. Should I go on?”
“That doesn’t seem like a good enough reason to not answer a very important question,” my sister countered. “You could’ve waited until the end of the fight or after we calmed Illyria down or after you got some sleep and come back to it.”
“It was my prerogative to not answer. You ever think I was purposefully forgetting you asked, hoping you’d drop it? He’s my relative, and I said no. The first no should have been enough. No need for a bloody long explanation. And this whole thing here was longer than any explanation I should’ve had to give!”
Dawn huffed, crossing her arms. “I only asked twice.”
“Five times. Five sodding times.”
Willow and Oz were glancing back and forth between Spike and Dawn, seemingly enjoying the two of them trying to out-stubborn the other one. Apparently, during six months of traipsing across dimensions, my sister had mentioned her crush on Spike’s lookalike cousin. A giggle almost escaped my lips, but I tamped it down. That would do no good.
I decided to nip the situation in the bud – for now. “So, you two followed Illyria and Dawn how?”
Taking my hand, Spike caught my hint, but I knew that he was only letting the other go for now. “We sussed out the exact spot they crossed over, and Willow was able to put a magical wedge in the leftover weak spot to pry open the portal.”
“We caught up with Illyria and Dawn in this crossroads dimension,” Willow explained.
“What does that mean? A ‘crossroads dimension’?” Oz asked.
“It’s a dimension that’s a weigh station of sorts between other dimensions, so there’s a lot of traffic going through.” Spike’s explanation didn’t tell me much.
Dawn caught my confused expression. “Traffic that involves a lot of different creatures. Did you know that it’s a place where creatures from our dimension travel to get away from humans? Like take the Loch Ness monster. She spends a lot of time there.”
Oz stared off into space. “Huh. That explains the pictures and the subsequent complete lack of evidence of her existence.”
“Right! She’s really nice, too.” Dawn was very exuberant about this.
Now I crossed my arms, which was more than a bit awkward given my belly was coming up under my breasts. “You met her? And just how do you know she’s nice?”
Spike rolled his eyes, which was big of him considering he’d distracted the whole conversation with his insistence about Dawn not dating his cousin. “The better question is how we handled Blue.”
I remembered Spike’s text. “You said Angel wanted you to go after Illyria. That she was tired of him. So, was Angel right?”
Willow nodded. “He was. Spike was nothing short of amazing. I was too weak after all the spells to do a whole lot at first, and he really stepped up for me and Dawn.”
“S’no big deal. I was doing what had to be done,” Spike said modestly.
“They caught up with me and Illyria in the crossroads dimension. Before they got there, I honestly thought that I was doomed to be wandering around forever with her.” Dawn’s face paled at the memory.
“Thanks to Red, we saved a lot of time,” Spike noted.
“So, what’d you say to Illyria?” Oz asked, stroking Willow’s upper arm.
Spike was quiet a moment and then said, “The god’s a bit like a big cat. You have to come at her with caution and a bit sideways because you don’t know how she might react. She might swipe at you with her claws out of anger or a desire to test you. Either way’s dangerous. But when it comes down to it, she wants connection. Even as a centuries-old being.” He picked up my hand, and I squeezed as he ran his thumb over mine. “There was a moment when I got her. It was when we were in L.A. She was feeling lost in her limited body with powers that had been drained, and I related to her feeling of helplessness.”
“How so?” I asked. I always wanted to know and understand more about that year he’d been with Angel at Wolfram and Hart.
He gazed at me knowingly. “You know how I was a ghostie for a time?”
“Yeah.”
“Didn’t know if I’d ever be able to touch anything, connect with anything the same way again. Couldn’t drink, couldn’t fight, couldn’t shag. And you know me.” There was sadness in his tone.
I hugged his arm. “You’re the touchy-feely type.”
He shook his head just slightly as if remembering the rest of the people in the room. “I figured she must be terrified with her body rebelling again. I mean, according to Peaches, she was trying to fit in with the world as it is now, and then, everything went sideways.”
I could relate to that. Spike and I were just getting used to our settled down, normal-ish life with a baby on the way, and then, the prophecy and Illyria showed up to mess with things. Such was the life of a Slayer and vampire. Then again, such was the life of most people. Life happened to throw things out of whack. The other shoe dropped. Ours just had a little more of a dangerous element. Something about it still worried me, but I filed that away for later.
“Spike convinced her to let us help her,” Willow said. “At first, she just let us tag along. I think she was pretty wary of us.”
“But, once we’d crossed a couple of dimensions – ” Dawn stopped when she saw the alarm on my face. “I got better at it. The first time was. . . painful. But it got easier, and Willow helped. She taught me about honing and mindfulness.”
“And Red here got stronger again as we went along,” Spike interposed.
Oz looked pensive. “How’d you know where to go?”
“Illyria knew where to go to find the dimension where Fred was,” Dawn explained. “She just didn’t have the power to get there. I’m guessing from the research she and Angel did.”
“Ah.”
“And as we went, Spike had us talk about what we were thinking out loud in front of Illyria,” my sister continued. “I think it earned us trust points. And we figured out this plan for how to help Illyria stabilize while also not causing Fred harm.”
“How?” I thought it seemed impossible, but I’d learned that with my friends and family, anything was possible.
Willow’s face lit up as she sat up away from Oz. “You know the magic the monks used to make Dawn?”
“Uh huh.” The monks made Dawn out of me. I never felt a thing. She just appeared in our timeline, and I thanked my lucky stars every day for my little sister.
“Well, I figured out a way to do the same type of magic.”
“Ohhh,” I breathed.
Oz seemed to be thinking. “You could stabilize Illyria by joining her with a piece of Fred without hurting Fred.”
“Exactly,” Willow confirmed. “That’s what we did. When we finally got to Fred.”
“It was right brilliant,” Spike noted. “And thanks to the Nibblet, we were able to get to Fred without disturbing her place of peace. And most importantly, without having to become human. I’m thinking the poof exaggerated the need for that.”
“Somehow, that doesn’t surprise me,” I said, rolling my eyes.