Title: Daddy (Part One - Book Four - The Evil Within)
Rating: PG -13
Pairing Buffy/Spike. Most major characters included.
Feedback: Yes, please
Disclaimer: All characters belong to Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, UPN, Fox...
Just Borrowing. (with, of course, the exception of Emma, who belongs to
Buffy and Spike)
Summary: First chapter of the Fourth Book. Book One - Twist. Book Two - A
New Life. Book Three - The Peacemaker Prophesy. If you haven't read
them, you might get lost. In Book Four, Spike and Buffy are charged with
protecting their daughter from being harmed by one among them. But who?
When? The new threat is something that they never expected nor are they
ready to do what they may have to do to defend Emma.
"Daddy! Daddy! Daddy! Daddy! Daddddeeeeeeeee!" A chirping, little
voice sang from the room next door. Spike opened one eye, staring at the
red glow of the alarm clock. Four thirty-two AM. They had been in bed for
exactly three hours and asleep for precisely twenty-seven minutes.
"Daddy! Daddy! Daddddeeee!" The voice came again like a wave crashing
into his skull. Spike groaned. Buffy chuckled.
"Oh, so you're awake?" Spike murmured, nudging her calf with his bare
"Umhum," Buffy sighed, smiling and stretching like a cat.
"So why don't you go fetch Emma and bring her in with us?" Spike grumbled.
"Because she's not calling me," Buffy answered, smiling. The two-year-old
had a pretty good vocabulary, which did indeed include 'mummy', but she
tailored her words and her pitch for her intended target. This was most
definitely a Spike mission.
"She's just calling, Pet. Doesn't matter who..." Spike mumbled, pulling
the pillow over his ears. Buffy tugged the cushion from his head as
another chorus of "Daddy!" rang from the baby's room.
"*I'm* not the one who spent three hours teaching her to say it," Buffy
retorted. "So, go, Big Bad Daddy." She chuckled evilly, planting her foot
just above his perfect backside and scooting him out of the bed.
"Alright, girl," he growled at his beloved, one foot hitting the floor.
"Daddy! Daddy! Daddy! *Help! *"
It was barely a split second between the time Spike's other foot hit the
floor until he had the sheet wrapped around his waist and was in Emma's
doorway. Buffy was behind in a flash, the comforter tucked around her
chest like a towel. Emma stood in the crib, hanging onto the railing and
giggling madly. Three of the fairies still stood sentry over the tow
headed two-year-old, but other than a horrible case of insomnia, she looked
right as rain.
"Emma?" Spike asked, stepping tentatively toward the crib, one eyebrow
raised as he approached.
"Daddy! Daddy! Daddy!" The baby sang, holding her arms out. Spike
lifted her up, pulling the little girl against him. Buffy walked over next
to them, trying not to trip over the trailing end of a queen-sized
"Emma, you alright?" Spike said, brushing white blonde ringlets gently off
her pretty face.
"Emma," the girl repeated, smiling. "Daddy."
Buffy inspected her, furrowing her brow. "Seems OK," Buffy said, shrugging
at Spike. "Emma, baby, where did you learn 'help'?"
"Help! Help! Help!" She chirped like a baby sparrow, then burst into
"Where'd you learn that one, Mite?" Spike asked. Neither of them was ever
sure how much she understood. She was two and timeless. A toddler and a
Prophesy. Never could tell.
"Dawnie!" The little girl giggled as Dawn appeared in the doorway.
"Nib-bit". Buffy caught her daughter's giggles and Spike smirked at the
lot of them. The little girl was like a parrot. Have to watch what I say
in the room next door, Spike thought.
"Dawn?" Buffy said, turning towards her sister and trying to maintain some
composure. Dawn rubbed her eyes, yawning.
"What's going on? Em OK?"
"Did you happen to teach her how to say 'help'?" Buffy asked.
"Thought it was a good word to know around here," Dawn answered. "Better
"Wait a bloody minute," Spike huffed. "You always..."
"*She* doesn't need to call me that," Dawn snapped.
"Enough!" Buffy interrupted, still chuckling and refereeing another round
of Family Feud, Slayer style. "Dawn, not sure she's understanding the
"Sorry," Dawn conceded. "I meant well."
"I know," Buffy said, the giggles bubbling back to the surface for both her
and the toddler. "Kinda funny...now."
"Scared me half to death!" Spike exclaimed melodramatically.
"You *are* half dead," Dawn baited, grinning.
"I should throttle you," Spike growled back. "Insult my parental skills
and your pet name all in the course of a minute..."
"I *love* Niblet," Dawn sighed. "And maybe the whole 'help' thing was a
little not thought out."
"Right then," Spike agreed, trying to hide his own amusement.
"Can we go back to bed now?" Dawn was yawning almost continuously and her
face was red from rubbing.
"You can. We have hyper baby to deal with," Buffy answered, stroking
Emma's bare leg.
"Have fun. You know...school.. or I would help."
"Yeah, yeah," Buffy said. Emma reached forward from her perch in Spike's
arms, grabbing hold of Buffy's hair and tugging.
"Ow!" The older Summers girl whined, nearly losing her grip on the
"Eww. Are you guys naked?" Dawn whined.
"Out!" Spike ordered. Dawn giggled, bolting from the doorway.
"Shift work?" Buffy asked, looking up at Spike.
"Right," he answered. "But can we take her in with us? If we have to be
sleep deprived, can we at least do it in our own bed?"
"I guess," Buffy sighed. "But no falling asleep and we are both going to
have to think about the pajamas thing."
"Pulling an all-nighter?" Tara asked, rubbing her eyes and making her way
into the dining room of the flat that she and Willow now shared. Willow
was bent over the table, five empty diet coke cans lined in front of her
like a tin wall.
"Have a big test tomorrow," Willow answered, yawning, her eyes drooping.
The caffeine had only served to give her the jitters. Her mind had fallen
asleep about three hours prior.
"Usually you're much more... not last minute," Tara said, sitting down in a
chair across from her, taking Willow's hands in hers.
"Been... distracted.. lately," Willow stuttered, yawning again.
"Med school?" Tara asked, looking at all of the MCAT manuals laying around
the table, tucked under copies of Gray's Anatomy and Comparative Vertebrate
Biology. "You know there's no rush. It'll still be there in the fall. No
one will fault you if you don't get in on winter admissions," she
continued, smiling serenely.
"I know," Willow replied softly. "But it's about time one of us could
patch up all the ouchies. I can't do anything... magical... anymore to
Tara giggled. Willow looked at her curiously a moment, but was infected by
the smile. "Wonder if UC Sunnydale's Med School offers Vampire
"I think it's in the catalog, right after Demon Dentistry 101," Willow
joked. As soon as the giggles faded, that all too common uncomfortable
silence settled over them.
"There's more on your mind, isn't there?" Tara asked, cocking her head to
the side and staring at her love. Willow looked at her with resignation.
"I know it sounds stupid... But I feel like something's ... wrong,"
"It's not stupid, baby," Tara said, brushing her red hair from her cheeks.
"Do you know what?"
"No," Willow answered, her voice lowering in frustration. "Just feels...
out of balance. Almost like everything is *too* good. So it can't be..."
"Real." Willow echoed.
"Is it...us?" Tara could no longer look at her. It had been a hard road
getting back here. The thought that it was all for nothing was too hard.
Instead, she stared at her clasped hands.
"No! No!" Willow answered, shock in her voice. "You're... perfect. I
just... I don't want to ever find out what it's like to lose you again.
Not any of you. But especially not you."
"Is that what you think is going to happen?" Tara's eyes twinkled in the
dim lamplight. Those eyes always mesmerized Willow.
"I don't know. I hope not. But I don't know," Willow answered, sullenly.
She sighed, stretching, realizing that one more minute of anatomy might
induce catatonia. "Go to bed?"
"Thought you'd never ask."
"Anya, it's four am. What's with the vacuuming?" Xander huffed from
between two pillows.
"It is four thirty two and I can't sleep," she yelped over the roar of the
"I have to get up in a hour and go to the site anyway. Can you hold off on
the heavy cleaning just that long?"
The vacuum clicked off. The room was still dark. Anya had reasoned that
she didn't want to disturb Xander with her insomnia, so better to leave the
lights out. The vacuum? Well, that came after he didn't bother to wake up
and realize that she was sleepless and scared. Scared. No clue why. But
scared all the same.
"Thanks," Xander grunted, pulling the covers over his head.
"Xander?" Anya asked, jutting one leg out and crossing her arms.
"Wh...at?" he whined, tossing the covers back down.
"Xander? Do you love me?" Her voice was flat, toneless. But her eyes
crackled with emotion. Fear. Need. Desire. Xander paused a second,
spending the time it took to focus his sleepy eyes on her and not just
blurt out the first thought that crept into his head.
"Of course I do," he answered, reaching his hand out to her. She grabbed
hold as if clinging to a life preserver.
"Are you just saying that because of some upcoming world ending scenario?"
she asked, kneeling on the bed next to him.
"No," he answered, looking at her curiously. "I'm saying it because I do.
And nothing bad is going to happen." Anya shot a glance at him, reminding
him of where they lived, who they associated with. "Well, nothing world
ending," he corrected.
"How can you be so sure?" Anya asked, shifting nervously onto her heels.
She felt worn down by unknown demons haunting her sleep.
"I can't," Xander answered. "Not really with the whole seeing the future
show. But I know we've been through almost everything and made it. And I
know I love you."
"Good," Anya answered, stretching out next to him, her right arm and leg
draped over his body. "You can go to bed now."
Giles stood quietly in the entryway of Quentin's den. The house wasn't so
much of a home but a museum. It felt barren. Musty. Devoid of life and
human emotion. Staying here was almost insufferable after his recent life
in Sunnydale. Constantly, it amazed Giles what Buffy had managed to do on
her own. What Spike had managed to do. A sort of paternal pride flushed
his cheeks when he thought of them. They had created, from the most
unnatural circumstance, a life that was more normal, more pleasant, than
any Giles had experienced in his days. Out of ashes, they had built a
palace and ruled it wisely.
Simply put, he missed being part of that life.
Still, aligning himself with Quentin, at least for the time being, was what
he needed to do to protect the very life that he had grown to love. There
was no doubt that the Slayer and the Vampire could handle the demons of the
Hellmouth, but this greater threat, the one that would kill their child,
the one that stood before him, chatting on the telephone as if he were
actually a feeling human being, would take every last one of them to
defeat. It was not Quentin's, Draconius's, strength that concerned Giles,
rather his complete lack of humanity. This man would turn a child inside
out and wear her heart as a pendant for a moment of glory or power. That
sort of evil was something of which Buffy could not conceive. And Spike,
if he ever had the capacity to understand it, could no longer fathom its
toll. His heart had grown too large to understand such atrocities.
"Rupert," Quentin said, setting the phone back in the cradle with a soft
click. "You said you had news of the Prophesy. I'm all ears. Sit," he
continued, gesturing at two over-stuffed chairs.
Giles had been working double time translating the text using Quentin's
information and reporting back to him, then using Spike's matrix and
storing the information privately. He sent the true translation in coded
bits to the one Watcher he had grown to trust. At least in matters
pertaining to Quentin Travers.
"Yes," Giles responded, sitting down and unfolding a leather pouch full of
musty papers. He pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose as he
shuffled through the pile.
"What did you discover?" Quentin asked, smiling a dry, cracked, smile.
One devoid of any discernable emotion.
"It seems that the demon threat you had suspected should arise in the
nights immediately preceding the Blood Moon. I believe that falls near
"Odd time for demonic activity," Quentin replied, his hand placed
pensively on his chin. Obviously a practiced maneuver, Giles thought.
"As well I thought," Giles continued. "From the description, the attack
will arise in the form of a cross dimensional demon. However, the demon
seems more interested in the One than the Peacemaker."
"What sort of demon?"
"Something along the lines of a Tarwali," Giles answered, showing a sketch
to Quentin. "Venomous, however, the venom is not deadly. Creates a state
of suspended animation."
"That seems a bit of a waste," Quentin replied, tapping his manicured
fingers on the arm of the chair. "Theories?"
"It is enormous and quite strong. His venom glands are numerous and near
impossible to avoid. The suspended animation would have the added effect
of being able to inactivate one of the halves of the One without
transferring its essence into the other." The worry consumed Giles as he
spoke. Although he knew the translation was false, he assumed Quentin
would do something to distract Buffy and Spike from the threat. This, if
anything, fit the bill.
"Quite a vile creature," Quentin commented, handing the sketch back to
Giles. Lenora did well in conjuring it, he thought.
"Terribly," Giles answered. "However, it is odd that this particular demon
would enter this dimension in the first place. Their taste for humans, and
for human culture, is minimal and they are purportedly quite intelligent."
For enough money or power, anything would be palatable, Quentin thought.
"I'm not sure," he responded. "I'm afraid I know little of them. But as
you are so gifted in this area, oblige me and see what else you can
The wild goose chase continues, Giles thought. He nodded back at Quentin
in response, sick to his stomach at the concept of amusing the creature
before him in any manner.
"You *will* update me with any new information, will you not, Rupert?"
"Of course," Giles responded, standing. "Should we warn Buffy?"
"Absolutely. I'll send word straight away," Quentin responded with his
cracked grin. Again, Giles' stomach flipped just looking at him.
"Good, well, I'll be off," Giles replied quietly. "Please give Buffy my
regards." He knew Quentin had no intention of warning Buffy of anything.
He could only hope that the dossier he had sent with both the true
translation as well as the cover would make it to them in time.
Quentin studied his protÃ©gÃ© for a moment, reading the concern in his eyes.
The fear. "I'm sure she's fine, Rupert," he commented, still studying the
ally he knew was his foe. For now, he thought to himself.
To be contd.