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The Ostara Project - Gaia, Ostara, Akasha -- by Kismet

Rating: NC-17

Series Description: The Ostara Project (La Femme Nikita crossover): A dark fic which examines serious issues focusing on the whole Buffy/spike Slayer/Vampire relationship.

Description: A small village in Britain, and a legacy which will revive the ghosts of the past as well as pave the way for the future.

Disclaimer: All characters belong to Joss Whedon, but author retains rights over story, which can only be used with author's permission. A work of amateur fiction and no copyright infringement is intended.

It was a small village in the country, a quiet, unspoilt and decidedly private place where the residents were either farmers or of the upper-middle class who kept holiday or retirement homes there. And in a small English village like this, not many things passed without remark. Especially not something like the old manor being opened up again.

Mrs. Keltner, owner of the local grocery which stocked turnips side by side with organic lettuce and smoked salmon, was the first to see the newcomers, since her cottage was the only one within a few miles of the manor and there was a lovely little track that passed the hedge at a section quite close to the back courtyards. And as she discreetly told her customers,

"It's a young couple, just the two of them, I think. Try the baby carrots, just got in today, dear. I just saw the girl. It was quite early in the morning, before dawn proper; you know how I like to take my morning constitutional then when the air's so fresh and everything's so dewy.........After Eight mints, Mr. Ledger ? Of course...

A little thing she was, all bundled up in a big white robe so I couldn't see that much of her except that she had a lovely golden tan and a lot of honey-coloured hair the way it is when you stay out most of the time in strong sun. She's American, I hear. I do hope they're not as gauche as most of the people from that terrible country are. Some of the people here are not too happy about 'newcomers', but as I see it the manor has been in the young man's family for generations. That he's chosen to come back here shows that he has enough good British common sense in him too."

The manor was questionably the oldest structure in the area except for some of the oldest farmhouses and the church. No one had ever been inside, but according to the movers it still held a wealth of old furnishings in excellent condition. As one of the men put it over a cup of tea at a local cafe, "I couldn't even make a stab at how many thousands of pounds it must all be worth; even the paintings still on the walls and old candlesticks and dust-covers over everything as if they'd only been away for ten years or so." Disappointingly enough, it seemed the young owners were only opening the main section and one of the wings for their own use, and hired the services of a professional cleaning company from a large town.

It took only a few days before the tongues REALLY began buzzing. The girl was pregnant, it seemed. Early stages, but obvious enough. And the reason they had come here was the subject of intense speculation. Elopement ? They were married, at least, though had anyone seen the extremely strange ring the girl wore ? Quite attractive in an eccentric way but how morbid...and the young man had the most horrendous Cockney accent ! Extraordinarily vulgar...which made it all the more surprising that they were frequently the guests of the esteemed Doctor Edward Frasier, one of the area's most prominent and most reserved residents. Other than that they lived in almost total seclusion. Mrs. Joseph Jones, the wife of the dairy farmer, cooked and delivered milk and other necessities for them. Of course gossip was not something one should indulge in, but if there was nothing to hide surely there would be no use for this subterfuge?

I never dreamed that he had this kind of money. All the living in crypts, the 'bare necessities' act and the same outfits all the time...To know that he'd been bunking with Xander when he had the money for any apartment he wanted was shock enough even though staying close to the Slayer or Slayerettes to stay out of the way of very pissed off demon ex-pals was a valid reason....but this ? Never in my wildest dreams, and believe me I've had some wild ones.

He and Angel had this little technique: squeeze and charm their way into a suitable owner's life, alienate him or her (it was mostly her) from society, then threaten and torture the victim into signing over property and assets before killing him or her.

And to think it's thanks to this that I have a place to be now. That I sit across from him at the table at meals and can reach out my hand in the dark at night to feel him close. Reassuring.

Actually, I'm not even disgusted by the sight of him slurping chateau le swine across from me now. Probably because I'm feeling the urge to bleed him. Right now, in fact....

It was the smell, at first. The smell of something-not-quite-right.

For a something-not-quite-right smell it had been good. A subtle shift in her natural smell that he hadn't thought to comment on. Till in the pre-dawn hours one night he had woken to hear two heartbeats instead of one.

Three nights. That was all it had taken. The hows and whys and the whole truth that Nikita had not told them had come clear later, but even then they had known that no heartbeat should have been there within three nights of conception.

Conception. Hell, to wake up to be faced by it had scared the shit out of him. Vampires were not supposed to be able to father children. No vampire had EVER fathered a child. No Slayer had ever lived long enough to have a child, much less with a vampire. The lab-coats had been barking up a tree that wasn't even there... or had they ?

"Friggin' Hell ! This can't be right ! This. Can't. Be. Bloody. Right." He had put his ear to her belly and there it was, steady, light, constant and maddening, much faster than her heartbeat.

She had been as shocked as he had been, but her reaction.....

"I'm not letting anyone hurt this baby. Not them, and not you." And the crazy loon had meant it too, glared bloody daggers at him and wrapped her arms around her stomach as if she thought he would try to rip it right out of her !

Father. He was a father in the true sense of the word. Not a Sire, a Father. What a cosmic joke on God or whatever so-called Higher Power was up there.

"Let's just get two things straight, Slayer. First, crazy as it sounds, it's my brat as well as yours. Second, my Da did it all wrong and the last thing I'm going to do is be like him. I'm going to get it right. By you and by, by....by...whatever is in there."

He had thought her jaw would hit the ground.

From there on they had run. Pushed as hard and as fast as they could, Buffy with a desperation that increased with every minute. She knew they had done something to her, to both of them, but this precious new being was the result of it. This tiny little creature in her that was the essence of the both of them and the fruit of a union which should never have been yet was and would continue to be if she had a say in it. And she would: she knew in a way what it was like to be fatherless and she didn't want it to happen to her child.

Her child. Her baby. And as a Slayer she had never thought she would live to have children, to hold the miracle of life she would bring into the world in her arms all pink and helpless and sweet. Now she had a chance at it and Section One would have to cross her dead body to get it. She didn't plan on letting there be a dead body.

Yet she knew, she knew that they were only one step behind. Sometimes it was a vague feeling, sometimes she was so sure Spike could have blindfolded her and spun her in a circle yet she would have still been able to turn around and point in the direction that they were. They were hunting her and her baby and she knew she had to run, to outrun them all and look for a safe place to hide like a mother wolf heavy with her cubs.

Like wolves they ran, and sometimes she dreamed of a garden and two children dabbling by a pond.

She could smell the tang of the sea in the air, replacing the unique, damp smell of the jungle. The soil was becoming more grainy in texture and the foliage had changed. They were perhaps half a day from the shore.

It was night now, and they had been forced to make camp. Three days and three nights, and they still had not managed to catch up to Spike and Buffy. Not yet, but headquarters at Base had helicopters patrolling the shoreline, and the few personnel at the small dock had been alerted.

Nikita had not felt such a sense of helpless failure in a long time. No matter how she thought about it, from any angle, she could not see how they could evade capture in the end. The island was a prison with walls of water and this time she was not on familiar ground. There was no Walter, no Birkoff, no channels that she knew how to use. All strange faces, and Michael.

The truth would come out in the end once they caught Buffy, and Nikita hoped that the girl's standing as experiment subject would mean that if she refused to talk they wouldn't hand her over to one of Madeleine's 'persuaders', or Madeleine herself. If Buffy talked, most likely it would mean cancellation for Nikita herself. Whichever way she flipped it, the coin was still tarnished.

She had never thought about dying, even though she gambled with her life every day. She suspected that it would not have bothered her so much not long ago, but now she knew that somewhere out there was a little girl who belonged to her. Who WAS her. And if she died that little girl would be left in the hands of Section One forever.

Life had never seemed more precious. And the Sea which cradled the island in its waters like a mother, like the First mother of all, was the one who held them all prisoner.

She tilted her face up to the moon, feeling its cold light on her eyelids. No fire because it was against regulations.

Then someone touched her shoulder and she opened her eyes to look up into Michael's face. It was her shift.

"I'm awake." She closed her eyes briefly and rolled over on her side to rise. Michael, unknown quantity, friend and guide, teacher and...lover ? He lived by rules whose price was too high for her to pay. The man who had betrayed her more than once and who had cooperated with Section to allow them to play her emotions against her and exploit her affection for him, knowing what he knew. The man who had worked against Section to save her life. She didn't want to look at him, didn't want to torture herself with the questions, with the 'what ifs' or wonder....

"Nikita, is there something you want to talk about ?" He stopped her with a hand on her arm. In the night his eyes seemed black.

"No, why would you ask such a thing ?"

"You seem preoccupied, withdrawn. Not yourself."

Her laugh was bitter. "Knowing what we know, how can we be ourselves ? We who don't know what it is to be happy...tell me, Michael, are you happy ?"

He looked at her in silence for a moment. "Here, now ?"

"Yes."

"There are many kinds of happiness, and yes, I feel as happy as I should be."

She laughed again, looking away at the sleeping forms of their six team-mates. Graham was lying on his side, facing away from them and curled up strangely enough in foetal position. "You're evading the question as always, but I shouldn't have expected anything else." She bent and picked up her goggles, her gun.

"Did you do it ? Did you let them go ?"

She straightened then and stared him in the eye. There was something different in him tonight, an agitation, almost, lying just under his hard, impenetrable surface. She was going to die anyway, why die with secrets kept between them ? And for him there were two little boys, two little boys with chocolate eyes.

"Yes, I did. I told them what they needed to know, I gave them a map, keys, a compass. And do you know something else ?" she said in a fierce undertone, coming up close to him. "I don't regret it, not one single bit. I don't regret it the way I sometimes regret Adrian. The only sin they've committed is being strange enough to excite Section's interest..."

"They kill. For him, it is his very nature. When he leaves here he will kill again. In the few minutes that he was free he killed three men, Nikita."

"They're in love, Michael."

"Does that excuse it ?"

"Maybe it does ! We kill too, and we kill on orders, not because of biological need ! Does that mean what Section does to us and to them is right ?" She felt the tears of frustration build behind her eyes at his cold, complete lack of emotion. He had cried when the girl he had married in a six year mission had been dying, he had cried for his son. Yet for all other things he might as well have been carved from diorite. "And I believe that they can be forgiven, for if they can't can we ? But then you wouldn't know anything about love, would you ? It's just another tool you use in the dirty little traps you make for women on Section's orders. Remember Karl ? The one you 'programmed' me to see as a substitute for you ? Did you know they hid images of you in my LAMPS and the paintings on my apartment walls ? Did you ?!"

His eyes flickered away from hers, and in a fury she reached out and slapped him hard enough to make his head jerk to one side. Anger made her strike again, moving in the way she had been trained to move, to beat him to his knees, to hurt him as he hurt her.

He let her strike him once, twice, thrice, never making enough sound to wake the others. Then he ducked her next swing and caught her, wrapping her in his arms and pinning her hands between them. She could have broken his hold if she really wanted to, but somehow it seemed enough to pound on him ineffectually like some silly woman, and to break down and cry. And it was enough to have him kiss her there, standing in a shaft of moonlight in the darkness.

The beach was deserted as the sun sank below the horizon. The sky was still red when they emerged from the trees. Casuarinas in the sand, waving their long thin arms in the breeze.

The floating sheds where the boats were kept were there, and so were the few buildings. There were no humans in sight.

The male was getting worried. The female was ill. She seemed weak and feverish, and even as they slowly circled the area a gleaming sheen of sweat covered her skin. He couldn't wait any longer; they had to go in.

"There," Michael said quietly. Ahead of them through the trees they could see the small outlines of the docks. "We're here."

Simultaneously they both pulled out the mouthpieces installed into their headsets, and because of this they both heard the static when it came on, obliterating everything else.

She tapped her equipment. "Hello ? Graham do you copy ? Teams Two, Three and Five respond if you hear me."

Nothing but an ominous crackle. She looked at him. "What is it ?"

Michael frowned slightly. "Interference of some sort."

She looked out at the light of the beach. "What do we do, wait for them ?"

They waited for five minutes, then ten, then fifteen. Then half an hour.

"They should have been right behind us," Michael said, tight-lipped. "At least our team; it's a basic manoeuvre." Nikita said nothing. It was a glaring discrepancy, or it was God answering her prayers at last.

At length, "We go out. Carefully, just to make sure the security at the docks are prepared."

"All operatives and personnel back to Base. Repeat, all operatives and personnel back to base."

Some raised eyebrows but none questioned. There was no place for questions in Section. In pairs that would later converge to teams, they turned back. Maybe the people on the coast had picked up the escapees.

It was a day before someone noticed that Nikita and Michael were missing.

"Keep moving," said Graham. "They were delayed by something, they just contacted me."

There were no helicopters, no security personnel on guard and in short no one there at all.

They found each other on the docks, beside one of the boat-sheds.

Spike heard them and whirled from keying in numbers on the numerical pad. Michael's tranquilliser gun was up in a flash.......

"No !" Lunging forward, Nikita knocked the muzzle of the gun up and the dart embedded itself under the awning. Without a sound, Spike had launched himself at them, knocking Nikita aside and bringing Michael almost soundlessly down onto the planking.

"No !" shouted Buffy, bringing him up short just shy of tearing Michael's throat out. Spike growled, "Give me one good reason why not."

"Because I stopped him from darting you," Nikita stepped forward warily, squashing the spurt of panic that rose to suffocate her at seeing Michael one movement away from death. "So you owe me a favour." She jerked back again when he snarled at her, fangs distended.

"I owe you ? You owe me time in a lab, pet ! Just be grateful I gave you your life."

Nikita looked to Buffy.

"If we let you go then you'll stop us, won't you ?" There was a hardness to the girl which hadn't been there before, Nikita thought dazedly. A kind of desperation. "He'll stop us." She shook her head, her tangled hair falling in her eyes. "I can't let you take us back, not ever." Her hands went instinctively to her belly, and Nikita's blue eyes widened as it all came clear to her.

"You didn't...."

Buffy's chin came up. "You didn't tell me everything, did you ? You lied by leaving the important parts out, like how they made this happen. What else did you leave out, like how they're going to take my baby and kill us after it's born, or does it get worse ?"

"There was no time and no chance to give you all the information; it would have taken a stack of folders or several computer discs to load all that !"

"You heard her, we're not going back !" Spike's growl was a steady, menacing rumble now as he knelt on Michael, who was fighting not to grimace as the vampire's weight crushed down his ribs, making breathing near impossible.

As Nikita watched them it came clear to her that some things Dr. Goodman had said had not been so wrong after all. This was the behaviour of a breeding pair of wolves she was seeing, and like wolves they would not hesitate to kill her and Michael if they felt the life of their child was in danger, no matter what lay between them.

"We should kill this one," Spike was saying to Buffy without turning. "He's the bloody problem here."

"Don't, please." Nikita crouched down slowly and put aside her gun. "See ? I'm going to give you this..." she kicked the gun over to Buffy. "I wouldn't have helped you get out if I wanted you caught, would I ? And Michael...." she hesitated. Buffy's eyes bored into her, sly, narrowed hazel.

She took a deep breath. "He won't stop you, I promise."

"Why would he do that for us? He's been a good hound so far." Buffy picked up the gun.

"He'll do it for me, because I ask him to. The way I would do it for him."

Michael's eyes did not move from Spike. He did not respond as the vamped-out vampire exchanged a swift, calculating glance with Buffy.

Carefully, holding the gun trained on Nikita, the Slayer moved forward till she was standing at Spike's shoulder looking down at Michael. "You heard what she said. Are you going to do it ?"

"And you'd better think carefully before you open your mouth," Spike added. "The wrong answer could get you gulleted like a fish, mate."

"Do you really think I'm afraid of dying ?" There was no shift of expression in Michael's eyes. "It's your choice, kill me and let the others who take my place bring you down, or..."

"Or ?" Buffy said, mouth pinched with strain. Fat beads of sweat stood out on her pale forehead, and her eyes were ringed with blue black.

"There is someone I know.." Michael rasped for breath. "In England...who can help you. You'll need it...with the pregnancy. Medication, monitoring...with the birth."

Nikita felt her eyes fill with tears of relief that she blinked away.

I'd forgotten how bloody cold it can get here. It's really time I had someone fix up the kitchen a bit; warming up food and blood over a kerosene stove isn't my idea of easy. I've had to throw out two perfectly good saucepans already because burnt plasma stuck to the bottom and the Slayer got squeamish. From a girl like her, that's pretty funny.

Well, no point standing here knife in hand. Pushing back my sleeve, I make sure the pan is under my wrist before I make the cut. Just a small slit and a sharp burning pain for an instant. The thick red stuff dribbles down slowly. Actually, watching myself bleed into a mug is quite disgusting. Watching her drink it is another matter: it makes me want to gather her up and just carry her to the bedroom and rip all her clothes off, not necessarily in that order.

At first, on that damn boat, I wouldn't give her what she wanted. I thought she'd gone crazy. Normally if you drink from a vampire, you become one in short order. Not with her. According to Dr. Frasier if she doesn't get regular doses of vampiric blood she won't be able to make enough blood for the baby and she'll be sucked dry to the marrow.

I put the pan on the flame and lean against the counter. Got to watch the soddin' stuff or it'll burn again and Miss Fussy upstairs will send me back down to bleed into a mug all over again. Can't believe how domestic I'm getting. Me, the Scourge of Britain. Now I'm a chef in an apron, thanks to the demands of the Slayer. Actually, all I do is heat food up and crack an omelette now and then.

Buffy, I have to get into the habit of calling her by her name. This whole thing still feels unreal, like one of those bloody dreams where you think you're flying or falling down the stairs and you wake up with a jerk in bed to find it was all only a dream. I wake up and the first thing I do is put out my hand to find her. I can't breathe till I touch her warmth and really know she's there and not just something I dreamed up.

Happy ? You could say so. As far as 198 year-olds go, I'm the Skippy of the lot.

OK, warm enough now. I tip the blood into the mug and pad upstairs. I'd forgotten how much I loved this huge house. Things happened here though, things I don't really like to remember. That's why it's a good thing that the Dr. just happened to be living in this neighbourhood; she'll fill it with happy memories for me. And the baby, when he comes.

Didn't I say ? Bloody forgetful of me...it's a boy. The Dr. had this great set-up in a room in his house; he'd brought it in for us, and he smeared this clear goo on Buffy's stomach and rubbed a little round thing around over it, and we saw our son on the screen. According to the doctor, the boy's growing much faster than normal, which is right since we're the farthest thing from normal ourselves. He figures that the birth will occur in six months. Right now it's only been three, so we're fine.

The wonders of modern science never fail to amaze me. In a way, its thanks to modern science and those wankers in their lab coats that I HAVE a son.

The thick carpet feels nice under my bare feet as I push open the door to the drawing room. She's sitting curled up on the window seat there as usual, her chin in her hand, dreaming. She loves that seat just as she loves this house and all the old furniture and locked rooms in it. She's happy, but it's all new to her and she's got to adjust. The reaction from the people she's told tore her up more than she'll show.

Angel was the first to know. Not that I wanted it that way. It's just we had this house in a joint deed, and he was the one holding the damn piece of paper in a bank box somewhere. I've got the ones to the villa in Southern Italy, the place in France and land some damn place I can't remember.

She hears me, of course. Pregnancy agrees with her. As long as she takes the supplements Dr. Frasier gives her and a healthy dose of my blood every day she's in perfect health. Not only that, her senses have never been sharper and it's still early enough in the term that she can move easy enough. I love her smile when she turns from that window to look at me.

"Here, love. It's sickening the way you like to ruin good blood by boiling it to an unreasonable temperature."

"There's nothing 'good' about it." She leans up and kisses me. She smells so good, like Buffy and sunlight and our child. "That's why I like you, you bad bad man."

We laugh in the middle of our kiss. Funny how that happens a lot even in bed. It never happened before with anyone else.

"Well, good evening to you, pet." I slip in behind her and she leans back against me, mug in hand as we both look out of the window over the old rose garden below. It's overgrown, of course, and the sunken round pond is as full of weeds as lilies, but it could be cleaned up well. A swing under the trellis awning, a few goldfish in that pond, cut back the trees and plant the right ground-cover and it'd be fine.

Angel couldn't believe his ears the first time I called him, but the bloody wanker had the sense not to hang up on me. A good thing, since I was down to my last dollar on the payphone and Buffy was getting worse. We had to crawl into a cellar under this bar, and I fell asleep from sheer mental exhaustion. When I woke up it was because she was gnawing on my wrist and had already had a fair bit. I never want to be scared like that again.

I hold her as she sips from the steaming mug, feeling the inner workings of her live body as she swallows. Yes, maybe in spring I'll work on the garden....

I've never had this much quiet in my life before, this much peace. There was always something to do, whether it was university, Slaying or the usual motions of normal human life. Here, I have finally got more time on my hands than I know what to do with.

We go for walks in the morning, before the sun rises, or in the twilight in the woods. We've only been down to the village on foot twice or thrice, though. All those people looking at us...I don't want anyone to look at us, anyone to find out that we're here.....

Another thing, diary. Another major thing. Angel's here. He's downstairs somewhere with Spike and I don't know what they're saying to each other.

Without his help we never would have gotten here, really.

Only three people from what was my life 'before' know. Angel, Giles and my mother. Angel took it the best. He didn't drop the phone, didn't scream and didn't bawl me out when he found out who the father was. Well, Mom just dropped the phone, is all. I think she's still trying to recover from the shock. She wants to know where we are, but I won't tell her. I can't tell her anymore than I can tell Giles. All the Scooby Gang probably thinks I'm either insane or the Traitor of the Millennium. It doesn't matter that Spike has been fighting by my side for years. All that they can see is that he is a vampire.

With Angel of course this doesn't carry much weight, him being dead himself, but when I opened the door to see him on the step this morning I wasn't ready for the pain. He felt it too, perhaps worse than I did. It showed on his face as he stared at my stomach where Liam makes a definite bulge now. Of course it hurts....if it wasn't for the curse it could have been him with me instead of Spike. And if it wasn't for the curse he would have been Angelus. Only his soul keeps the monster at bay, and the monster I can't love. With Spike it IS the demon all the time, and yet I can love him.

We're giving the baby Angel's human name, and it hurt to see the tears in his eyes when we told him. Spike is trying to forgive for my sake, but they both have a lot of issues to work out and even if it means their thumping each other into the ground to work them out it's fine by me.

Dr. Frasier took some amniotic fluid to test today. Just a regular check-up all mothers go through, he says. Thank god for Dr. Frasier. Michael and Nikita arranged everything through him, and we've finally been able to read the files on the both of us. The strange thing is that technically I should be thanking Section One for Liam. They made him as much as Spike and I did.

Slayer and Vampire. Naturally made for each other ? The mind boggles....are we the first successful step towards much bigger things on the evolutionary scale ? Not that I was ever any good at Biology, but isn't it a natural drive that causes all creatures to seek to mate and have offspring with the widest range of possible candidates so as to enlarge the gene pool and get the strongest, best children ? We would definitely be Mankind's giant step forward then, blending the best of both sides of two species to create a new hybrid, stronger than ever.

I don't want to think about it. All I want to do is huddle under the damask spread, up against the mound of white pillows in this giant four-poster and watch the fire crackle in the hearth. The clear afternoon sunlight falls in through the window and shines on my ring. The ring he gave me on the day we arrived here. It's heavy aged silver, and the snake twining around the woman's body is sheeted with emerald. The woman's hair is red agate and she holds a sheaf of golden wheat in one hand and a sickle in the other. She wears a crown of flowers and a belt of skulls. He tells me that she is Life and Death, Mother, Lover and Killer. The ring is long, covering the entire lower half of my finger up to the middle of the knuckle.

Agates and emeralds have the same meaning: long life.

First there was the Doctor's warning.

"There seem to be some slight abnormalities in the composition of the amniotic fluid. Nothing too serious so don't worry too much about it, but I'd like to run some auxiliary tests."

That night, Buffy was feverish and went to bed early. Which she normally didn't do until the early hours of the morning when he would go with her. Spike gave her some Paracetamol and made sure she had a jug of cold water, then settled down to watch some TV. At 4.30 am he went upstairs and found her in fitful sleep, but he did not want to wake her so he merely climbed in carefully and settled the covers around them both.

When he woke it was because he had the strangest sensation of wetness around his hips and legs. The next instant the rest of his senses fed information to his sleep-fogged brain and he was immediately full awake, alarm bells screaming through his head.

All he needed was one match struck to know his worst fears. The bed was soaked with blood. Her blood, blood and fluid.

"Buffy...."

When she opened her eyes and saw him, she smiled sleepily. Then she looked down and screamed.

"What's wrong ?" Angel burst out into the hallway and stopped short in horror when he saw Spike rushing towards the stairs with a hysterical, blood-soaked girl in his arms.

"No time for Twenty Questions !" his Child hollered at him as he went down taking the steps two, three at a time. "You drive !"

The light of dawn was already streaking the sky when the black car screeched up the Frasier driveway. The Doctor had been pulled out of bed by Angel's call and was still in his robe and pajamas, but he was ready for them and the garage doors were open. By then the contractions had begun and Buffy was screaming with the pain.

"Take her inside, hurry !" The elderly doctor said urgently, "You know the room upstairs."

Angel stopped short in the hallway in front of the stairs. "Who else is here besides you ?"

"I live alone, young man. It will be just the three of us and her if you're afraid of anyone finding out."

"Afraid ?!" Angel shook his head in disbelief, glancing up to where Spike had kicked open a door on the second floor. "This is not right; she should be at a hospital with all the amenities and a proper room and nurses and all her loved ones around her...this is..."

The small, greying man stopped raise a hand to Angel's shoulder. "I know, but in her case this is just not possible. If she goes to a public place like a hospital she'll be in danger for sure, and that's not even taking into account the records and blood samples that they'll take which Section One will immediately trace. Now are you going to scrub down or not ?"

The ensouled vampire looked at him blankly before Buffy's shriek made both their heads turn.

"What do you mean ?"

"Let me put it in a nutshell. Right now I don't think I'm wrong in saying that you and William are the two people she loves most in the world, and she'll want you two with her to make up for the absence of her other loved ones. The patient needs me and I'm going to scrub down before attending her, and I strongly suggest you do too."

In less than two minutes, soaped and clean, Angel walked into the room upstairs behind the bustling figure of the doctor. It was clear that they had been preparing for the birth for months, only this wasn't the birth. Buffy was only halfway through her term.

The smell of blood hit him at once.

A frightening array of machines surrounded the small bed where Buffy lay, and even as Angel stopped short in consternation there was another contraction and a fresh gush of red flooded the white sheets. The Slayer's small body strained upwards and she screamed again, a scream of pure agony such as he had heard only in Hell during his stint there. Spike was sitting on the edge of the bed next to her with his back to them, arms tight around her as she clutched at him in pain, sobbing and gasping for breath. He was making a strange, crooning noise to her interspersed with words too low to hear and stroking her hair, his body rocking slightly. He didn't even seem to notice the blood soaking the mattress under him.

"Mr. Mornay..."said the doctor as he approached them, and Angel felt passing surprise that Spike was actually using his real name. Then he forgot all about it as his Child whipped around and lashed out at the doctor as he clutched Buffy even closer to him, hissing with his game face as the little man stumbled away just in time.

Dr. Frasier looked at Angel. "I'm afraid I'm still not very comfortable with your.......natures....but if he won't let me near her she could very well bleed to death. What's wrong ?"

"He's snapped." Angel was already shrugging out of his leather coat. "The strain's cracked him and he's reverted to his baser instincts for a while. Stand back, doctor, but be ready. This could get ugly."

Slowly, Angel squatted down into a unthreatening crouch and moved warily towards Spike and Buffy, careful to keep lower than Spike as he held out his hand. "Spike, listen to me, I know you're in there somewhere. You've got to let Dr. Frasier help Buffy; that's all he wants to do, help her. You understand that, don't you ? We're not going to take her away from you." He was almost near enough to touch Spike's knee now, and the white blond vampire cocked his head on one side as he watched his Sire with yellow eyes. "Come on, Spike..."

Only Angel's vampiric reflexes saved him from being kicked in the head. In movement so swift human eyes would not have been able to follow it, his hand shot out and grabbed the younger vampire by the ankle as he surged to his feet, game face coming forward with a snarl. Spike snapped at his fingers with sharp teeth and Angel punched his Child hard enough to make his head snap up. Spike snapped again then made a kind of whimpering growl, retreating backwards and clutching Buffy closer as his Sire loomed over him, unwilling to obey even though instinct insisted that he back down.

Angel's powerful growl rolled across the room, infused with a Sire's command as he took his recaltricant Child by the lapels. Buffy was shivering violently now, her suffering making her almost totally unaware of the altercation.

"Fascinating..."Dr. Frasier whispered, his eyes riveted to the two men. "Absolutely fascinating."

Angel pulled Spike up off the bed roughly by his collar, making him let go of Buffy for fear of dragging her off. Furious, the younger vampire struggled, kicking out and landing a few good thudding blows. Angel's roar of outrage at being so blatantly disobeyed practically made the walls rattle as he struck Spike hard across the face, sending him spinning halfway round. Before the younger man could recover his Sire kicked him across the backs of the knees and slammed him to the ground.

On the bed, another contraction made Buffy scream out again, and there was a ripping sound as her clenched fingers tore the sheets. Recovering himself, the doctor skirted carefully around the two still-struggling vampires and was at her side at once.

Spike gave a whining cry in answer to her pain and scrabbled wildly under Angel's weight. Knowing that he couldn't control his Child any other way, Angel forced Spike's fair head to one side and gashed his neck. The moment the younger vampire felt his Sire's teeth, all the fight seemed to go out of him and he slumped down under the force of the command.

The doctor's hands were remarkably steady as he took out the bags of blood he had kept ready and hooked one of them to the IV stand. Buffy's eyes were closed and her skin was waxen, her breathing harsh as she rested between contractions. The red of blood fanned out all around her, making it look as if she was lying on a crumpled spread of red cloth.

"It's all right, Anne," Dr. Frasier was saying. Establish contact with the patient; the calm voice had a wonderfully soothing effect on people. Anne Mornay, however different she might be from the normal patient, needed every bit of help he could give her. "I'm just going to give you a blood transfusion now and you may feel a little sting..." He took hold of her cold arm and expertly slid the IV tube under her skin into the vein.

Hazel eyes opened on him and her other hand came up, clutching at his forearm as she half-raised herself. "He's dying, doctor. It's killing him. You've got to help....you've got to save him !" Her desperation sent chills through him as he eased her back down, soothing her.

"It's fine, Anne. I don't want you to worry, everything's going to be fine. Just lie back and try to relax."

"Spike, I want Spike..." She turned her head feverishly. "Where's Spike ?"

The doctor turned and his eyes met Angel's golden ones in time to see the raw pain in them. Even though he had no idea what was the reason for it, it was intense enough to make him break eye contact in respect for such grief. Hearing Buffy's voice call his name Spike made a soft whining noise in his throat, the muscles of his face working in extreme distress. Immediately Angel was on his knees behind his Child, holding him and sheltering him with his bigger body as Spike rocked on his heels.

The bluish-white clear liquid from the bottle rose slowly in the syringe the Doctor was filling. "He's here, Anne. He's here right beside the bed. Now calm down, I'm going to inject you with something that will hopefully stop the contractions...." He was cut off by another scream from her as the muscles of her abdomen clenched down again. Spike's nails scraped painfully on the floorboards as the howl burst from his throat.

"In the name of God," Angel said raggedly. "Give her something for the pain."

She could see him in her mind's eye. So small, already so perfectly formed with that mass of black hair around his little head. Perfect little fingers and ten little toes with tiny little nails. Perfect.

And he was kicking, struggling and fighting in the water of the womb that had cradled him so carefully for all his short life but which was now killing him. In a perfect fury he was pounding on her insides with his fists and kicking with his feet, fighting for his life. Such spirit, such bravery from one so small....

Save him, oh God please, save him. He's done no wrong, he doesn't deserve to die. Take me, God, and spare him. Please.

The pain rippled through her again like molten lava, burning her, scalding her as her body sought to eject Liam. Oh God and all the angels in Heaven, please..please make the pain go away ! Let it pass, let her die and know nothing, just stop this pain....

The screams that burst from her made her previous cries seem like the mewlings of a wet kitten. They went on and on, stretching her lungs to their limits, breaking only long enough for the breath to rush back in then picking up again, shrilling right up to the sky as her insides tore and fire flooded through her. She was dying, dying as Liam opened his tiny mouth and screamed with her in the darkness and somewhere outside she heard Spike howling in the agony of grief. Howling like the wolves under the full moon, crying to the dark fierce winds that tore past without heeding.

LOCATION : Section One Headquarters

TIME : 0800 hours

DATE : August 12th 20- -

"....and so this means, of course, that you were never in abeyance at all. In fact, you performed very well, Nikita." Madeleine smiled approvingly. "Operations had his doubts, but I knew you were ready for this."

The blond woman could not answer, all words fled from her mind as she digested the information she had just been given. Madeleine leaned back and waited. This was to be expected, after all, and there would be more to come.

As usual, she was right.

"It was all a lie ?" Nikita whispered, all the pieces falling into place and making sudden, horribly perfect sense. How simple. How clever. How stupidly she had played along in exactly the way they had anticipated. "You never wanted any evaluation at all, did you ?"

"Oh, but we did, though it was ever a major concern. The information you collected could prove to be very useful in the future...."

"Don't play with me !" Her voice rose, blue eyes blazing with anger.

Madeleine merely looked at her consideringly for a few moments. "What is it you want me to say, Nikita ?"

"The truth. You owe me that much," Nikita said bitterly. "You knew how I would feel about the Ostara Project, didn't you ? You knew I would have strong personal motivation to object. Is that why you sent me in ?"

"We sent you in because we knew you would be able to establish rapport with Summers," Madeleine said with unflappable calm. "We knew that you'd be the one to best earn her trust and you did. Love and sexual relationships are hard to control and almost impossible to force even though Summers and Fitzgerald, or Mornay as we now know him to be, already had sufficient basis for it. We had hoped that they would succumb to the power of suggestion in the controlled environment of the Dome, but there was always the possibility that they wouldn't..."

"So you made a backup plan just in case." Nikita could barely control the rage trembling through her. "Michael knew all the time, didn't he ? That's why he could access the information so easily, and that's why our equipment wouldn't work at the docks. That's why the other teams disappeared. And that's how Michael knew of Doctor Frasier, who is not really in retirement at all, is he ? And Section has all the information it needs, right down to ultrasound pictures. Congratulations, Madeleine. You were right as usual; I never thought even you could play with people like chess pieces in a game as despicable as this."

Madeleine merely shrugged mildly. "Human nature is strange. Throw two people together in tense, dangerous situations and make them work together and you would be surprised how much of an aphrodisiac that is."

"Is that what you think about me and Michael ? Or let me rephrase that; me alone." Her hand clenched on her knee till her knuckles turned white with the force of her grip. "Why drag it out then, why leave me hanging on the line for three months ? To see how I hold up under stress ?" she asked acidly.

"We couldn't have you telling them," Madeleine replied simply. "As in the beginning we knew the only way to make it believable was if you believed it yourself. No acting. And the last thing we want after conception at last is for the breeding pair to disappear and go into hiding where Summers would have no medical attention or care during the remainder of the pregnancy and no supervision during the birth. The only option was not to tell you."

She smelled a rat immediately. "Then why tell me now ?"

The dark-haired woman sat up. "You mean you didn't know ?"

Something fluttered in the pit of Nikita's stomach. "Know what ?"

"Last night Summers miscarried. She lost the baby."

The room spun wildly and she found herself clutching the edge of the table. "No !"

"I'm afraid it's true, Nikita. The strange white blood cells were activated by something we have yet to identify, and they turned and attacked the baby's systems. We did everything we could but we didn't anticipate this, and even if we had its doubtful that we could have done much. Summers survived. I'm sorry, Nikita, I know the child meant something to you."

She rose blindly. "Please don't say things you don't mean, Madeleine. There's nothing more frightening than your false sympathy. What are you going to do now ? Cancel them ?"

"Why ? With their own secrets to keep, Summers and Mornay are hardly a liability to Section's secrecy. And as the same thing is projected to occur with any subsequent pregnancies we have no use for them now. They're free to go as they will." Madeleine looked at the stricken younger woman. "You may go if you want to, Nikita. I'm giving you a free week to...recover."

"How generous of you. If you really want to help, Madeleine, just answer me this. Where is the little girl you cloned from my eggs, and are there any others ?"

Blue eyes clashed with brown. Silence.

"I thought so." Nikita wheeled around towards the door. "And tell Michael that he's a wonderful actor, which is all the more surprising in a man with no heart. I believed him this time."

The door slid silently shut behind her. Madeleine sat in the empty office for a while, until the sharp tang of Nikita's anger had dissipated somewhat. Then she slid out her console and pushed a few keys.

"Send in Michael."

He would be the more difficult one to deal with. High level operatives were even more sensitive about being manipulated even if only slightly. Michael had not been told about Graham, and that small omission would be enough to put his hackles up. Madeleine sighed. She would have to box him somehow into patching up the rift with Nikita again, and as she waited for his arrival she wondered how much time she had before he refused to cooperate anymore in missions that involved leaving Nikita in the dark.

She rested her chin on her steepled fingers as she thought. Michael's attachment to Nikita merited serious consideration and delicate handling. The girl was quite wrong; whether she knew it or not Michael would do more than disobey orders if she came to physical harm through any fault of Section's. He was quite capable of doing much worse indeed.

There was no commotion as the black van drove into the village. It could have been just any other weekend for the inhabitants, but it would be quite untrue to say that the van went up main street unnoticed till it stopped and parked in front of the Second Cup Cafe.

It was lunchtime, and the usual small crowd of affluent young holiday-makers from the city and locals looked up and smiled in passing as the three women and two men walked past the outdoor tables under their tan umbrellas and into the cafe itself. Casual glances saw that they settled at a large, round table a little way inside and were given menus by a young waitress with a bouncy blond ponytail.

The owner, Joel Jeffries, came up to them to take their orders. A large, affable man in his mid-fifties, he wore a grey-striped sweater and tailored trousers with a black apron at his waist.

"A good afternoon to you and welcome to T- - - - -. What can I get you ?" His eyes twinkled at them as he held his pen poised above the notepad.

The two young girls placed orders for milkshakes, burgers and fries while the young man opted for what he called 'tradit Brit bangers and mash', while the older woman just wanted a Caesar salad. She looked rather worse for wear, that one, Jeffries thought as he wrote. Tight around the mouth and eyes and looking as if she had gone some time without a good night's sleep. She was a handsome woman too. American, all of them. Which was surprising in itself. Not many Americans knew to come here. He was more interested in the older man, though. British, definitely.

Almost as if he could sense Jeffries' curiousity, the man spoke.

"I wa...was wondering if perhaps you could help us..."

"Of course, sir. What would you be needing ?"

"Y..you wouldn't happen to know where a Mr. and Mrs. Mornay live, would you ?"

"I'm sorry, but I don't think there's anyone here by that name, and I know most of the people hereabouts, Mr..."

"Giles, Rupert Giles. Are you sure ? They would be newcomers, American, young, blond couple. I was told that they were staying at an old manor or castle or some such....but I lost the address." Mr. Giles gave a short laugh that sounded more uncomfortable than natural.

Oh thank you Lord for smiling on me in this, Jeffries thought with something like glee. Mrs. Keltner will go green with envy when she hears of this...

"Oh, you mean the young couple up at the old manor ? Certainly. You're friends of theirs ?"

The faces around the table brightened immediately, particularly the woman, who looked almost startled.

"Yes, yes !" Giles pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. "Would you know how we get there ?"

Jeffries' smiled. "I'll do more than that, sir, I'll take you there if you like after your meal."

"Yes, thank you. That's so kind of..."

"Look, Giles, let's ditch the lunch and just go there ?" the dark-haired young man said.

"I...I...we should really call Buffy first, she might not appreciate our showing up on her doorstep uninvited..."

"Angel invited us," pointed out the red-haired young woman.

"And that makes it all right, of course. A vam...man who doesn't even live there inviting us into the home of another...man....without telling him. I'm sure Spike will just welcome us with open arms," Giles snapped suddenly. If Jeffries' ears could have pricked up they would have at all this unsolicited information.

"Stop it, all of you !" said the woman abruptly, banging her hand down on the table suddenly and making all the others jump. "Three months, three months of waiting and worrying and not knowing....I'm not waiting any longer, not over a goddamn Caesar salad I'm not ! You think that it's been hard for all of you ? She's my daughter !"

A short, uncomfortable silence as the other young girl glared at the diners around them who were not too discreetly eavesdropping.

"Of course." Mr. Giles put his hand on the woman's shoulder. "I'm sorry, Joyce. We've been thoughtless."

She stiffened for a moment, then her shoulders slumped and began to shake. "No, you haven't. All of you have been wonderful and I know you love Buffy as much as I do, especially you, Giles. You've meant so much to her and taken care of my little girl so well.....it's just that it's been so long and I don't think I can take the strain anymore."

"Well," the dark-haired young man stood up, pushing back his chair. "Now that we're all agreed, what are we waiting for ?" He looked at Jeffries. "Could you shift cafe-schedule and come manor-hunting with us now ?"

I don't know why I continue to do this. You might say that I'm a sucker for punishment.

I'd almost forgotten all about this place. The space of a century or so tends to do that to you. Yet it's all almost identical to the memories I have of Long Ago, when two young vampires set on exacting their bloody revenge on the world went out and forcibly seduced an innocent young convent girl into their world of blood and night. This is where they brought her, and this is where the three of them spent their first and perhaps happiest years together. Before everything started to go wrong.

Ironic that he's given her the room that we used to share. That now he shares with her. I've watched her asleep in that huge curtained bed I had the owner of this house commission long, long ago. I can't even remember the woman's name now. Everytime I see Buffy in that bed I expect to turn away and turn back to find it's Drucilla who's lying there, her long dark hair spread out over the pillows. Instead I see a halo of gold and its Buffy. The true angel, not the mockery of the name that I took for my own to spite God.

How I hurt her, my beautiful angel. My Buffy, yet she's forgiven me. She named her child after me.

I would have given my soul to give her back her baby that night. I would have gone to Hell again to spare her and Spike that pain. I thought Spike would really kill me to get to her then, and I half killed him to keep him from her and also because I needed some outlet for my own grief.

We cremated Liam and went to that river that runs near here to scatter his ashes. Dr. Frasier is a man of sense; he didn't let the both of them see what was left of the child after. I did, and I'll carry that memory with me forever. I didn't want her to have a grave she could hang over to remind her of her grief. Best to make a clean break and try to forget. Only you never forget, though you can try. Dr. Frasier says that if she ever has any other children its likely that the same thing will happen. He's given her planned charts of her fertility cycle to avoid another incident.

I remember this window seat. Drucilla used to like to sit here with her embroidery and her dolls, singing to herself and laughing her mad little laugh. It's good to have Buffy here, she dispels the ghosts and old memories haunting the dusty corners of this house and my mind.

Standing here, feeling the heavy tapestry of the faded curtains, I can see them down below in the rose garden. The hedges that once formed the Love-Maze have grown wild as has everything else, cutting them off from the rest of the grounds and prying eyes. Except mine from up here. Spike got the swing a few days ago. She likes to sit there, rocking herself, and often he sits with her. They don't speak much, but she wants him there and he's there for her.

It's easy to disapprove, to say that Spike is a vampire and will never be able to give her the normal life she deserves, but that would be to deny everything that she is. She's not normal, she's above normal. And he's given her what I never could have: love and support when she needs him the most. He's given her a child. And even though I hate to admit it to myself, he'll care for her superbly. He's always had a protective streak. After all, he watched over our crazy Drucilla for decades. And he can make love to her without turning into a black-hearted fiend after whose obsession is to have her in the ultimate way, to torture her and cause her pain, to hear her scream and know that he's it's cause, to take her viciously with his body as he drains her dry....

Sometimes I still have those dreams which are pleasurable nightmares. That's why I must keep away from her, never allow myself to slip. The demon is always here, always in me and he wants her because she's the only one he can never have. Never.

Still, I feel jealousy when I see Spike's mark on her neck or her arm. I wonder where else he's bitten her. I can't help myself.

Last night I didn't have a nightmare. I had the strangest dream.

I was in the rose garden, and I was standing in the sun.

I can't say in words how sweet, how strange it was to stand under the full rays again after so many years. I lifted my arms and tilted back my head, opening my mouth as if I could drink it in. The smell of grass and dew and roses rose all around me in that wonderful warmth. Then I heard the girl giggle.

She was such a beautiful little thing, slight as an elf with those large hazel eyes and that wavy black hair and white skin. She clutched a bunch of white flowers in her hand and her oversized blue t-shirt was streaked with grass stains. She giggled again at me, the tall man in black leather standing there, and put up her hand to clutch the daisy crown that was threatening to slip from her head.

"You look funny." She had a delightful little lisp.

I was so surprised I couldn't even speak to her, and before I could gather my wits the boy stepped right out of the hedge. He frowned at me, this beautiful young boy with the honey hair and huge brilliant blue eyes. Those eyes, they were so familiar to me...

"Come on, we're not supposed to be here," he said to the girl. "He's not supposed to see us, not yet."

She looked at me in her bold, confident manner. "He's here to see someone, isn't he ?"

The boy turned to look at me and I was dazzled by his eyes. "Who are you ?" I asked him, but he turned back to his sister, for somehow I knew she was his sister.

"He's here for someone else to see him, silly. She needs to see him to know he's here. Then she'll find him when the time comes and he'll get to love someone again, once he's paid for all the bad things he did."

"Is he bad ?" the little girl wanted to know. "He looks nice."

"He's not bad now, he's learning to be good. He wants to be good."

Choked with words that I couldn't say, I held out my hand to the girl-child. It was a plea, and she beamed at me sunnily. "Mummy and Daddy will help him to be good."

"We can't speak to him about them," the boy said to her as he took her hand. "Not yet, its not yet time." And with a last glance behind at me, they trotted away through the grass towards the hedge.

"Wait !" I called after them. I tried to run but my feet wouldn't move, it was as if I was rooted to the ground, held in thrall by the sunshine.

The little girl paused for just a moment and gave me a little wave as the hedge opened before them. And I saw...how can I say what I saw ? A field of wildflowers and sweet grass in the sun stretching out into infinity. And in this field little children, hundreds of them running and playing, yet careful to avoid all the adults sleeping half-hidden in the long grass. Men and women fast asleep amidst the laughter of the children.

And I watched as my two little angels walked over to a wall just inside the hedge. On either side of the wall lay a man and a woman asleep on their stomachs, faces turned towards me and both with their right arms stretched out till their fingers almost touched the old stone. The woman had long hair like spun gold and a strong face which was tenderly vulnerable in sleep, and she wore a long black dress and black boots. The man was tall, dark-haired with the dark shadow of stubble over his chin and cheeks, clad in a black suit. Somehow I knew that he was as dangerous as a human can be dangerous yet there was such a yearning air to his outstretched arm.

Beside the sleeping woman stood a little girl almost identical to her, with the same long blond hair and beautiful blue eyes which she turned to me as my black-haired little angel skipped up to join her. The yellow-haired boy went up on the opposite side of the wall to the dark-haired, chocolate-eyed boy who stood beside the sleeping man. These two children were busy at their work, lifting one stone after another off the wall and throwing them to one side. Already there was a large pile of stones there, but it would be a long while yet before the wall was completely gone and the fingers of the sleepers can touch one another at last.

My black-hair girl laughed and skipped and blew me a kiss. "Soon ! Soon !" she called. "We'll see you again soon." Then the hedge closed and the dream ended.

What was that ? The sound of the front doorbell ringing jerks me back to the present and the matters at hand. I know who's at the door even as I watch the pair on the swing below start. They have no idea who it might be. No one is supposed to know they're here, and we never have callers.

Buffy will be furious with me, but I had to call Sunnydale. It's not right for her to shut herself away from them and to shut them out of her life. She needs them and they need her. They'll help her heal; maybe take her back home where she can continue her life as Slayer. There's nothing like a preordained purpose in life to help you with living.

I watch as the lovers disappear from view, going to answer the door. I know the surprise they will get when they open it.

I don't move from where I stand beside the window. I'm too exhausted and for a while I just want to stand here and remember what the girl told me.

Soon.

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