-Disclaimers: Title belongs entirely to Gabriel Garcia Marquez--just borrowing it for the sake of the story. Buffy, Spike, Whistler and all the memories belong to Joss and his crew. All other characters are entirely mine.
-Summary: Series set 100 yrs after "The Gift," Season five finale. This is part AU and futuristic. Spike has been alive for 100 hundred years after Buffy's death. Whistler comes to him to let him know that Buffy has been summoned to fight a new evil. Therefore she will be brought back to life and needs a "guide". When Buffy wakes she finds that the only one to cling to is the only person left from her past. This is a B/S fiction.
-Rating: Overall rating of series is R. (Language and Violence)
-Spoilers: I will mention everything that has happened through "The Gift".
-Distribution: The only people that have permission to post these series are those who already archive my fiction and have asked me for permission. If you want to post it please ask me. I'll be happy to let you. I just want to know where my fiction goes.
-Author's Note: I adore Feedback, so please let me know what you think of the story so far! bih80reviews@yahoo.com
-Special Thanks: Wendy, Nmissi, and Jennifer for the BETA and their awesome feedback *g*
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Previously:
"What is this?" Spike asked, now impatient.
"Mutation. A simple genetic mutation," he answered.
"You're saying she's not human?" Buffy asked looking at the copy of the test.
"Look," he said pointing at the numbers and letters Spike could hardly understand. "The human body contain red and white blood cells--that's the structure of out bodies--therefore the only cells that should show up on a healthy human are these two. But...Vanessa's blood not only contained red and white, but she contained pink."
"Pink?" Buffy asked, twitching her nose.
"It's simple Crayola, Miss Summers. What does a good little girl get when she mixes red and white?"
"Pink, vampires have pink cells. The mixture--it's how we survive," he said looking dazed and confused.
"Bingo!" Javier exclaimed.
"So she's a vampire?" Buffy was beyond confused.
"A mutant. The first of her kind. The future." he whispered.
"But Sammy and Risa were normal..." Spike said thoughtful.
Javier smiled and took the cigar in his mouth. Leaning back he stared at the pair.
"Don't you see? She was not their daughter...she was yours, the both of you. The daughter of a vampire and a slayer--genetically engineered."
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Buffy stood and promptly punched the representative on the eye. The man fell back and hit his head with the floor making his guards come in trying to restrain the brassed-off slayer.
“You asshole!” she screamed at him. Spike just sat on the chair looking at the blood test before him.
Three guards grabbed her as she fought—kicking and punching wildly at them. “Stop!” Javier demanded.
Buffy stopped—she was breathing heavily as tears ran down her cheeks. The men that held her arms waited for the order to throw her into a cell.
“Let her go,” the man said, taking the napkin his assistant offered. He wiped his face clean of blood. “I am sorry I had to be the one to tell you, but I would think that you’d prefer to know the truth. Or do you like living with a lie?”
Buffy shook off the guards. They moved away from her warily. Her voice trembled with tears. “This is our lives you’ve screwed around with. How dare you? How dare you take something so sacred from us, and use it to your own ends? What is wrong with you people?” She spat the words at him viciously.
“We didn’t-“
She cut him off. “Bullshit—I don’t give a crap what you were thinking, you did it, and you did it illegally,” she said. One hand came up to wipe at the blood on her lip. Shuffling footsteps broke the silence as the guards decided it was a good time to withdraw. Javier’s assistant looked to his boss uncertainly.
“Go on, I will handle this. It will be okay,” Javier reassured him.
“Oh yeah, you’ll be ok—but we’re screwed,” said Buffy, glaring icily at the man.
“Miss Summers, please try to understand-“
He was interrupted again, this time by the low whisper of the only other person in the room.
“I have a daughter?” Spike spoke softly, disbelief in his hushed tone.
Buffy finally gained control of herself. She gave Javier a final glare before she turned and knelt before the vampire. “Hey,” she said, taking the papers from him gently. He looked up at her, eyes soft and glassy. “We have a daughter,” he whispered. The statement brought tears to her eyes as she nodded.
“And someone is going to explain why,” she said as she took his hand and looked over her shoulder at the man cowering behind the desk.
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“I say they liked my present,” Glory said, watching the small camera surveilling Javier’s office.
“I’d say she was pissed,” Loret answered, lighting a cigarette.
“Well, that too, but over all I’d say things went…rather well.”
Loret snorted and grabbed her bag. “Better get going—don’t want anyone to notice I’ve been gone for too long,” she said, hoisting the leather over her shoulder.
“I love this!” Glory exclaimed as she rubbed her hands together and smiled. “Right under their noses and they don’t even see it! Classic! They must really hate me right about now,” she said dreamily.
“I must say, bringing you back was not a bad idea.” Loret smiled at her. “I always hate doing things by the book.”
“Yes, but you could have at least given me my powers,” said Glory bitterly. She draped a black scarf around her shoulder experimentally.
“You try finding a nail of a yathi in this day and age and I’ll give you back your powers. ‘Sides, Mayan spells are tricky—you should be grateful you look nothing like your old self.” She smiled “They’ll have no idea who hit ‘em.” She frowned a little. “No. Not that one.” She gestured at the pile of fabric alongside the other woman. “Maybe the red.”
Glory exhaled dramatically. “I must say—I hate the straight black hair, it’s just not me. But the black eyes—now that took sculpting, and it makes me look really good with red lipstick.” She fished in the pile of silk, and slid the desired one over her arm. “ Yep, red is definitely a brunette’s color.”
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“What da’hell do you suppose takin’em so long?” Dalton asked, pacing up and down the room.
Zeta took a sip from the green tea Lucy made and shrugged. “They must be in pain.”
“But we’ve got a job to do. This is no time to mourn,” Mario commented as he cleaned his rifle.
“They wont be mourning,” Lucy said. She hoisted herself up onto the kitchen counter. “They will be pissed.”
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“So let me get this straight. The council preserved my blood and blood from all the other slayers, since they didn’t know to whom the prophecy belonged. And they took the liberty of not only creating her, but also raising her away from us. I mean, I was dead but Spike—he had every right to her! How could you do that to him?”
“Desperate times call for desperate measures, Miss Summers. We look out for the future of the people. We had their best interests in mind. Surely you understand that. ” He spoke slowly, as if he thought her incapable of understanding him at all.
“What I understand, Mr. Ferrer is that you stole from us. From two people who had ALREADY given themselves completely for the “future of the people.” You have not only placed our lives in danger, but the life of a little girl and her guardians- people we care about. All of this for a run at the next election?” Buffy’s anger boiled inside her. “You’re a piece of work, a real piece of work.”
“I understand why you would be upset Miss Summers, but you have to understand just what it was we were working for. We had the noblest of intentions-”
“Get out,” said Spike.
“I would think that you of all people, Mr. Rawlings, would see the benefits of such a technological break through. “
Spike stood up and glowered at the man. “Go back to your office and clean it up. Tonight you will make a statement to the PDWC (Political Democratic World Council), stating that you are resigning your position as the international Latin American representative. You and your staff will leave the headquarters tonight and I never, and I mean never want to see your face again. You will take my advice unless you want to find your face printed in the missing persons column of the World Times.”
Javier stared back at the man in shock. “You gave me my position.”
“And a grave mistake that was,” Spike said. He reached out his hand to Buffy. She took it, lacing their fingers together. They walked out of the room without giving it a backward glance.
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Spike stopped the black government SUV in front of the church steps. Buffy sat in the passenger seat with Vanessa sleeping across her lap. He looked over at them , his heart constricting almost painfully. His women- his love and his daughter.
“What are we doing here?” Buffy asked. She studied the view outside with confusion.
He nodded towards the antiquated building. “Take her in there, and see Padre Berrios, he’ll know what to do,” he said, unclasping his seat belt.
Buffy’s brow furrowed. “A padre?”
“I want her blessed. We don’t know what else is out there, what else might want a piece of her,” he said.
Buffy nodded and prodded Vanessa awake. “Honey, wake up,” she said. Gently and she ran her hand down the baby-soft locks.
The little girl sat up and blinked. “Are there yet?” she asked sleepily.
“Well, we’re someplace you two need t’be.” Spike stated as she crossed the passenger side and climbed on his lap.
She rested her head against his shoulder. “Won’t you come?” she asked, idly toying with the sleeve of his shirt.
“Can’t go in there, pet. You know that.” He kissed her head. “You go on with Buffy.”
They watched as she considered it, and Buffy felt a weird stab at her heart. Her daughter had no idea who she was, and didn’t fully trust her. Silently she cursed the people responsible for this situation, and the government that tolerated such abuses.
“Ok,” she simply said and followed Buffy as she climbed out of the car. Gingerly Vanessa took Buffy’s hand as she climbed out of the car, and together they walked up the cobbled walkway towards the building’s entrance.
Spike watched them go. It had been a hell of a day. He cursed and took out his illegal cigarettes; lighting one, he relaxed on the seat and waited for the girls to come back.
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Buffy felt uncomfortable in churches. Not that she had anything against them- rather, she had never gone to one regularly when she was small. Now she swallowed awkwardly as she surveyed their surroundings. It was an old church, and almost deserted at this time of day.
She felt the little girl lean closer to her and clutch her hand tighter. “Don’t be afraid, sweetheart. I won’t let anything happen to you,” she said, wrapping her arms across her small shoulders.
A small woman came briskly out of a rear door and approached them with a smile on her face.
“Buenas noches, que Dios les bendiga,” said the nun.
Buffy stammered- she had no idea what was just said. “I don’t speak Spanish, English?”
The woman smiled. “Of course, I am Sister Maria Theresa, how can I help you ladies today?”
Buffy sighed with relief. “We need to see Padre Berrios.”
The nun’s face hardened and she backed up. “No one, sees Padre Berrios, Senorita.”
Buffy held up her hand trying to explain. “My name is Buffy…I am the slayer. I was sent by Spike.”
The nun studied her still unsure. “Spike?”
“You know, the council vampire. Hum…what is it that you guys call him…the pacifier?”
The nun’s face lightened. “El Pacificador is here? Bendito sea el nombre de Jehovah! Come, of course you may see el padre. Please come!”
Buffy stared after the retreating nun; she looked down at her little girl. Vanessa was staring at her with a smile on her tiny face. “What?”
“You don’t speak Spanish,” she said as she stuck a finger in her mouth and started suckling it.
“Well,” Buffy said lifting the girl in her arms. “You’re gonna have to teach me.”
The girl stuck her finger out of her mouth and offered it to Buffy as a truce. “Deal.”
Buffy looked at the dripping fingers. “We’ll shake on it once we clean your hands.”
Vanessa smiled. “You’re funny.”
“Yeah, so I’ve been told,” Buffy murmured, following the nun.
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He knew she was coming before she even entered the office. He reached under his desk and retrieved the small bottle of oil he had collected from the holy land. The soft knock came as no surprise and he sat forward in his humble wooden chair.
“Entra,” he said. (Enter)
“Padre, perdone mi interupccion, pero lo ah venido a ver la Matadora…mandada por el pacificador,” Sister Maria Theresa said as she bowed her head. (“Father, pardon my intrusion, but the slayer has come to see you, sent by the pacifier.”)
“Lo se Hermana Theresa, dehela intrar y a la nina tambien,” he said smiling. (“I know, Sister Theresa, let her in and the child with her.”)
The nun nodded and let the blonde in with the small child.
Buffy stood awkwardly in front of the man. All she knew how to say was ‘Bless me father for I have sinned’, but she hardly though this was the appropriate moment to say that.
“Hum…I a….” Buffy was stalling.
“I know why you came, child. Please have a seat.” He gestured to the empty chair in front of his desk.
“I am Buffy, this is Vanessa, and you must be father Berrios.” She extended her hand—the old man took it and smiled at her.
“Yes, of course. I should have known they would bring you back. Welcome back, Miss Summers.”
Buffy looked confused. “How do you…”
“I take you’re not religious.” He sighed. “Most slayers are not.”
“No, I’m really not. I’ve only been inside a church once or twice,” She confessed.
“And look, already you’ve made your confession,” he said amiably.
Buffy smiled at him and nodded. “I really don’t know why I am here, Spike said…”
“How is the old man?” he interrupted.
Buffy sighed. “We’re holding up.”
Father Berrios nodded. “He’s a strong one, that one.” He looked down at Vanessa and smiled. “And you must be Vanessa?”
The little girl pulled tighter into Buffy’s embrace.
“It’s alright child, come here—I will not hurt you,” he said extending his arms.
Buffy studied the man before her. If Spike trusted him then so could she. She looked down at the little girl. “It’s alright, darling, he’s a friend of Spike.” The little girl eyed him cautiously as she climbed down from Buffy’s lap and walked around the desk. She stood before him with her fingers in her mouth, her large green eyes watchful as he brought out a small vial.
“Well…you have your mother’s eyes,” he said smiling at the little girl. “And your father’s hair, if he would stop bleaching it.”
Buffy stiffened.
“My mama and my papa are dead.” The little girl said as she stood proudly in front of the man.
The father smiled with approval, her strength was showing at early stages. “You know what some people say?”
The little girl shook her head.
“That whenever God closes a door he opens a window.”
Vanessa blinked and took her fingers from her mouth.
Father Berrios opened the small bottle and dabbed his fingers with the blessed oil. He placed a finger on her forehead. “Te bendigo,” a finger to her chest. “En el nombre del padre,” a finger to her shoulder. “Del hijo,” a finger to her other small shoulder. “Y del Espiritu Santo,” his fingers came to her mouth and she kissed them lightly. “Amen.”
She smiled at him and walked back to Buffy’s waiting arms.
“Thank you,” the slayer said as she lifted the little girl into her arms and got to her feet.
The priest nodded and stood up. She realized then how small he was—almost an elf. Then she realized that he was not human. She recoiled.
“Good comes in many faces and under many names. Do not be deceived for good is found within.”
Buffy still eyed him carefully.
“He’s good,” Vanessa said.
Buffy looked surprised at her. “What?”
“The child can sense the nature of good and evil, the forces within a being. Be it human or not. She’ll know. It’s her gift. Like yours.” He walked to them, balancing hesitant steps with a cane.
Buffy took in the information and nodded to the man. “Thank you,” she said.
“Slayer.”She turned back to look at him.
“Hear this, the only way to defeat evil is to look upon its face and be not afraid.”
“My papi always said not to be afraid of what is in the dark because the powers would protect me.” Vanessa put her two cents in.
“And safe you shall be my child,” said the smiling priest.
“Thank you again, father.” Buffy strode out of the office.
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Spike saw them walk out of the church and climbed out of the car. He took Vanessa from Buffy, and noted how tired she looked. “Done,” she said.
He nodded and placed the little girl into her lap as she sat down.
“I am hungry.” Vanessa said as she extended her small arm to play with the radio.
Spike sighed. Parental life was nothing new to him—but one so small was a whole new ball game.
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Spike paced in front of the bathroom door as he heard giggling and water splashing. He cringed as he imagined his wet carpet.
“You done in there?” he asked.
“Almost.” He heard Buffy say.
He groaned.
“But I’m not wrinkly yet!” Vanessa squealed.
“You’re going to look like a raisin if you get any more wrinkly,” Buffy answered her.
Spike shrugged off his coat and turned to the bedroom door as he heard a knock.
Zeta stood in front of the door with the items he had asked for in her hands.
“Thanks,” he said, as he gestured for her to enter.
“You’re welcome, Spike dear. Just what you asked for. Toys, a plush pig, some clothes, and most importantly- a night light.”
“A night light?” he asked eyeing the butterfly shaped light. He had not asked for that.
“Yes, she’ll want it after what she’s been through,” Zeta said as she set the items on top of the bed.
Spike groaned and he sat on the bed. She took in his visible discomfort and tried to soothe him.
“Hey! You’ll be fine. And you have Buffy to help you- it will all work out okay.” She was interrupted by a squealing sound as the slayer emerged with a towel-draped Vanessa in her arms.
“What do we have here? A wet piggy,” Buffy said as she held the giggling girl in her arms.
“I am not a piggy. Piggies are pink, fat and pink,” Vanessa said.
“Look at that! Sarcasm, I wonder were she gets it from?” she glared at a staring Spike.
“What?” he asked innocently.
“I’ll be downstairs,” Zeta said as she sensed their need for privacy.
“We’ll be down once we get the little piggy off to bed,” Spike said.
“Not a piggy!” Vanessa protested. Spike picked up the pink pig Zeta had brought.
“No?” he asked astounded. “Well, Mr. Gordo here told me differently.” He walked to the girls and he marched the pig in mid air.
“Mr. Gordo?” Vanessa asked doubtful.
“Yeah, that’s his name, right, pet?” he asked Buffy.
The slayer’s eyes sparkled as she watched him play with their daughter.
“Yup, Mr. Gordo Jr.” she said looking at the wet girl.
“Still not a piggy,” Vanessa protested.
“Hum…I see this might take some convincing,” Spike said, scratching his chin. “Well, you know what piggies do don’t ya?”
Vanessa smiled and shook her head, hitting Buffy’s face with the wet strands of her hair.
Spike approached them quickly and without warning reached out and tickled her mid section. “They squeal!”
Vanessa squealed as Spike took her in his arms and continued his assault. “Squeal, squeal, squeal.”
“No!” Vanessa cried between fits of laughter.
“Say you’re a piggy,” Spike insisted as he gave her a moment to breathe.
Vanessa’s smiled reached from ear to ear. “No!” she insisted.
He assaulted her again as she slipped from his arms and ran to the bed.
Buffy caught up to her and tried to ‘save’ her from Spike.
But Spike was not so merciful as he attacked the slayer and she began to squeal with laughter.
“She’s a piggy!” Vanessa squealed as Buffy turned red as Spike’s hands gave no mercy to the laughing slayer.
“Beg mercy!” Spike insisted.
“Never!” Vanessa answered for her.
“Never?” Spike looked questioning at Buffy who was trying to catch her breath. She locked eyes with him, her eyes and his danced with joy.
“Never.” Buffy answered.
Wrong answer as the laughter of the three was heard through out the apartment.
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“There’s only one way in,” Mario stated as he pointed to the board that showed the map of Glory’s quarters.
“Which way?” Spike asked as he sipped his mug of blood.
“An Iron door we’ll have to blow up,” Lucy commented as she raised the power point image to a different screen.
“Good, lets get to work—the sooner the better,” He replied, finishing up the last bit of the red liquid.
“Mmm, there’s only one problem,” Lucy interrupted.
Buffy hopped on to the counter. “What is it?” she asked.
“It has to be detonated manually,” she said. She twirled her pen between her fingers.
“In other words, someone has to be the walking bomb. They would be able to sense any activity with all the vampires they have there,” Mario finished.
“And I pay you to find a way to keep us all alive,” Spike said as he stared at his team.
“Well we have a plan,” Zeta said.
“And the plan is…” Spike sighed as he grew weary.
“A simple hit and run.” Lucy said as she clicked on the screen and the photo of a car’s skeletons came up.
“Hit and run?” Buffy asked as she looked at the complicated diagram.
“The C4 will be placed strategically on the left vault of the engine. This is where the wiper wash is usually stored. We will connect a direct detonator from the explosives to the dashboard of the car. If not pressed at the correct moment the whole plan will blow to hell as well as the person driving. This can only work if it’s well coordinated and perfectly executed.”
Lucy’s power point image changed and a picture of a car accident came to view. “The driver will drive at 45mph into the iron gates. On impact the C4 will activate and we’re in. There are two collisions that happen in a crash. One: the impact of the car with the object, two: the impact of the driver with the inside of the car. The driver has to get out in between those two.”
“Great, lets get some rest,” Spike said pushing himself up.
“It’s not that simple, Spike. The driver will only have a seventh of a second to respond and stay alive,” she said as she sat down looking at him. “In the first tenth of the second the car and everything inside are going at the speed of the vehicle. The front bumper strikes the gates and begins to deform. The front center of the car slows to 0mph; the rest of the car and its occupant continue moving forward at 45 mph.
In the second tenth of a second the bumper continues to deform as the energy of the crash is being dissipated; the radiator and the fan begin to crush; the engine and frame strike the gate and begin to decelerate. The driver has to push the detonation button at this moment, no sooner no later.
In the next tenth of the second the frame and the body of the car continues to deform—the driver is still moving at 45 mph. If they do not exit the car between the moment of detonation and the next tenth of a second they will blow away along with the rest of the car. It’s a suicide mission: impossible”
“Bloody ‘ell, Lucy, you know that’s impossible, even for me. No one moves that fast,” he exclaimed.
“You don’t,” she said.
“But slayers do,” said Buffy from her position.
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