A Love As Strong As Death
Author: enigmaticblue
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: Everyone knows that not all these characters are mine, and I'm not making money off the ones that are. So there.
Archive: Anywhere that already has my stuff. Anywhere else, ask and it shall be given to you.
Summary: Set after the end of Cast Me Not Away and its follow up stories. This sequel is longer and darker than the intervening short stories. It deals with family, children, immortality, life and death, and making amends. We will also be jumping around in time a bit, so look sharp.
A/N: I debated for a long time before writing this one, although the idea was there before I even finished CMNA. Some of you will believe that I have ruined the previous stories, which is fine. All I ask is that if you're unhappy with where this goes that you'll go back, re-read Cast Me Not Away through Silver Bells, and then you can flame me if you'd like. I'll calmly pull out the fire-extinguisher and ignore you, but that's alright. The themes have been there; I just hadn't quite managed to elaborate on them yet. (Oh, and before anyone screams Nika, Wesley, Spike and Buffy will survive. More than that I won't promise.)
Chapter 1: October 2014
Wesley was going over the Reilgar prophecies with a sense of newly won purpose. The Council had sent him the texts over a week before, and he hadn't made much headway. One of the difficulties inherent in owning one's own business and trying to raise two children was the resultant lack of time. The code was finally cracking, however, and it looked as though he'd be through sooner than anticipated.
While the demon-hunting business was still going strong, Wesley had made the difficult decision to cut back on his field work in the last few years. Although he still loved the down and dirty side of things, he had other responsibilities.
He had too many ties to the larger world to risk death daily.
The slight squeaking of the door had him looking up. Will stood in the doorway watching him, his glasses slipping down his nose slightly. "Is there something you needed, Will?" Wesley asked, trying to hide his impatience. While he loved his sons dearly, it was difficult to get a moment's peace to get any work done.
The boy shrugged. "I just—"
When he didn't move, Wesley bit back a sigh and then pushed back from his desk. "Come here, William." Will sidled up to Wesley's desk, obviously nervous about having interrupted his father. "Where's your brother?"
Will shrugged. "He went to play football with the guys."
Wesley rubbed his eyes. His boys, although they appeared identical, couldn't be more different. Will was shy and reserved, while Davey was a ball of energy, drawing people to him like a magnet. "Would you like to see what I'm working on?"
Will's eyes lit up. He'd inherited every ounce of his father's linguistic abilities, and he loved nothing more than to pour over a text for hours. "Can I?"
"May I," Wesley instructed automatically, and then pulled Will up to sit on his lap. "In a translation like this," he began, "it is imperative that you first recognize the pattern and genre of the text..."
~~~~~
Meg dashed to pick up the phone as soon as it started ringing. Her mom was out running errands, and her father was still sleeping after a full night's work. She had been given the very important job of answering the phone or doorbell when it rang so that Spike wouldn't be disturbed.
She was just hoping that her dad woke up soon. Life was always more fun with him around.
"Summers' residence," she said primly, just as she'd been instructed.
"Meg?"
She recognized the voice immediately. "Hey, Uncle Giles."
"Are your parents around?" he asked.
Meg recognized the serious tone. It was the voice he used whenever there was a problem. Giles didn't often call about emergencies, but when he did, either her mom or dad went away for a while. She hated when that happened. "Mom's gone, but Dad's here," she replied reluctantly. "He's sleeping."
She could hear Giles sigh through the line. "I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you to wake him, Meg. This is rather important."
"Okay."
The next moment she heard a click. "No need, moppet," Spike said, his voice gravelly from sleep. "I've got it."
Meg had planned on hanging up the phone, but curiosity won out. She wanted to know what was so serious, and what affect it would have on her. She carefully hung up, only to pick the handset up again, holding her hand over the mouthpiece to prevent her dad from hearing her breathing.
Spike had picked up the phone only to hear Giles asking his daughter to wake him up. Much like Meg, he recognized trouble when he heard it. "What's up, Watcher?" he growled as soon as he'd heard the other line go dead.
"I'm afraid I have bad news," Giles replied, his tone grave. "Faith is dead."
Spike was silent for a long moment. "How?"
"There is a master vampire rising in
Spike ran a hand through his hair, sitting up a little straighter in bed. "Thought you had a coven there. What's the head bint's name? Swallow or some such?"
"It's Wren, actually," Giles said, and if the situation weren't so serious, he might have found that funny. "She has managed to prevent this vampire from tapping into any of the Hellmouth's power, but they are not equipped to take him out. That was to have been Faith's job."
"That how she was killed?"
"As far as we know," Giles replied. "Information is rather spotty at the moment."
Spike closed his eyes, realizing what that meant. "And her Watcher?" He'd met the man a couple times—once at Wesley's wedding and again during one of Faith's infrequent trips to L.A. Spike had liked him.
"Also killed," Giles said quietly. "From preliminary reports, it looks as though they both went down at the same time. We've recovered the bodies, and they were not—we've taken steps to ensure that they will rest in peace."
Spike swallowed hard. "I see. The next Slayer?"
"I'm actually on my way to catch a flight to
"You want me to do it?"
"No," Giles replied. "I'll take care of it. I have someone else going to collect the new Slayer. As she's a ward of the state, we are planning on relocating her to L.A.."
Spike chuckled. "So Wes is getting another kid, huh?"
"Something like that," the Watcher replied. "I will need you to inform Buffy, however. I'll need to talk to both of you about taking care of this problem."
Spike let out a little growl. "Hang on a mo, Watcher. You know the rules. You get one of us at a time."
"I understand, Spike, but I think you might want to make an exception in this case. This vampire has already killed one Slayer, and—"
"And I don't want to give him a shot at a second," Spike snarled. "You'll get me, but—"
"I think Buffy should be allowed to make her own decision on this, Spike," Giles said in his best authoritative voice.
Spike was silent, finally saying, "We'll talk when you get into town. More than that, I'm not goin' to promise."
"Very well." Giles cleared his throat. "I should be there within 24 hours. I'll stop by Wesley's first, but I'd like to see you soon after."
"Fine." Spike listened as the line went dead, and then he heard a click. "Bloody hell," he muttered, realizing that Meg had probably heard the entire conversation. Spike pulled on a pair of pants and headed downstairs to find Meg at the kitchen table doing her homework. "Don't even pretend to be innocent, luv," Spike said dryly. "I know you were listenin' in."
Meg froze for a minute, and then went back to writing out her spelling words. "I wasn't."
"I heard you," Spike replied. "An' don't be lyin' to me, now. You get caught, you come clean."
"Uncle Giles had his serious voice," she pointed out with just the beginning of a pout. Spike nearly groaned. He could resist the pout, but it wasn't easy even after years of practice. "You guys always have to leave when he sounds like that."
Spike succumbed. "Don't let your mother catch you eavesdropping," he said. "She'll have both our hides, and you know it." He eyed her papers. "Got most of your work done, then?"
"Yeah," Meg said. Then she asked quietly, "Are you and Mom going to have to leave?"
Spike wanted to tell her that it wouldn't happen, that they would be leaving Giles to take care of things himself. He also knew that it would be a lie. "I don't know. We'll just have to see."
"Is Mom going to die too?"
Spike's eyes widened. "Why the bloody hell would you ask a stupid question like that?" he demanded.
Meg had long since grown used to her father's outbursts. "Because Faith was a Slayer, wasn't she? And Mom's a Slayer, and Faith died."
Spike took a deep, unnecessary breath. "My whole job is makin' sure your mum is safe," he finally said. "Promise you, luv. Whatever wants her is goin' to have to go through me first."
~~~~~
Davey banged through the front door in a whirlwind of energy, as usual. Nika called out, "Davey, wash your hands, please. Dinner's almost ready."
"Yes, Mum," he called back, tossing his ball into his bedroom and then rushing into the bathroom. Davey was really hoping that no one would notice how badly banged up his knuckles were. The guys had been making fun of Will again, calling him a sissy and a momma's boy, which wasn't true at all. If anything, Davey knew his brother took after their father, and he envied him that. Will hardly had to study at all to come home with top marks, and he was always talking about languages and what a great Watcher he'd be someday.
Davey would much rather take after Uncle Spike, who understood that a guy didn't always want to be in front of some big, thick book.
Nika and Enid were standing in the kitchen putting the finishing touches on dinner. Nika turned to greet her son with a smile. "And how was football?"
Davey shrugged. "It was fine."
Her sharp eyes caught the scraped knuckles and the dirt on his cheek. "Were you fighting again?"
He winced. "No, Mum. We were just, you know, wrestling."
"Be honest now, Dafydd,"
Davey stared down at the toes of his shoes. Nobody understood what it took for him to make sure Will wasn't getting picked on all the time. Not that his twin couldn't take care of himself, but Davey hated hearing people make fun of him.
Nika, who knew exactly what Davey would have been fighting about, sighed. "Are his parents going to be calling us?"
Davey shrugged. "I don't know. I didn't hurt him that bad."
"Badly," Nika corrected automatically, and then gave a little laugh. "Oh, Dafydd," she said. "Whatever am I to do with you?"
Davey relaxed, realizing that the worst was over, and he wasn't going to get into any trouble. He watched as his mother put her hand over her abdomen. "Is the baby kicking? Can I feel?"
"Here," she replied, taking his hand and placing it over the slight bulge. Davey's eyes lit up with wonder.
"That is so cool," he said reverently.
Nika smiled at him fondly, ruffling his dark brown hair. Both boys were spitting images of their father, although Will was the one who took after him in personality. Davey, on the other hand, was very much like the sister she had lost, and Nika felt a special kind of love for him.
Now there was another child growing inside her after years of trying, and Nika couldn't help but hope for a daughter, one who would carry on the family traditions. She loved her boys dearly, but she longed for a little girl.
"I hope it's a girl," Davey said, seeming to read her thoughts.
Nika smiled down at him. "Why is that, cariad?"
He stared back at her incredulously. "I already have a brother. It's not like I need another one."
~~~~~
It was the second time she had to move in as many months, and it just wasn't fair. Although, Mr. and Mrs. Collins had said that she was moving because they'd found a permanent placement for her, so maybe that wouldn't be so bad.
Hannah stuffed the last of her clothing in the bag and looked around the little bedroom. This had been the first place where she had her own room, which had been very nice. Her foster parents had been nice too, if a little strict. She didn't mind that so much, though. There were worse places, worse problems to have.
She stared down at her hands and wondered how long she could hide it. No one had noticed so far, not even her coach. How anyone could miss the fact that she'd gone from only being able to do a somersault with a twist to a triple in a day was beyond her, but Hannah had long since learned that people saw only what they wanted to.
It was the major reason that no one had noticed she was pretty much on her own until one of her neighbors called CPS.
Hannah didn't blame anybody. The social workers and counselors they'd made her talk to all told her the same thing—that her mom was sick and she did the best she could. It wasn't Hannah's fault. Well, no shit, Sherlock.
She tucked a piece of bright red hair behind her ears and then laid back down on the bed. After a year in foster care, Hannah was thoroughly sick of the whole business. It was the same everywhere. Oh, sure, some places were better than others, but no one had been downright mean to her. It was always the same, though. She'd be in one place for a month or two or maybe three, and then someone would come in, tell her to pack her things, and she'd be off to the next place.
There was no doubt in her mind that whatever anyone said about "permanent placement," it was a myth, and nothing more. Older kids didn't get permanent anything. Even though they'd terminated her mom's parental rights, it wasn't like anyone would want her.
Everybody wanted babies and little kids, not teenagers. Nobody wanted an adolescent. Hannah had learned that lesson the hard way with her first family. It was just better not to get attached.
A knock on the door preceded Mrs. Collins' face. "They should be here soon," she said with a nervous smile.
"Okay," Hannah replied. "I'm pretty much packed."
Mrs. Collins found herself nervous in the face of the girl's equanimity. She had expected a little more emotion out of her. "Are you okay, Hannah?"
Hannah frowned. "Why wouldn't I be?"
"Well, it's sudden, and—"
The look Hannah gave her was full of compassion and a maturity beyond her years. "I knew I wasn't going to stay forever, Mrs. Collins. It's really okay."
Actually, it really wasn't, but no one else needed to know that.