***************************************

Buffy trotted down the stairs, crossbow in hand and keen questions in her eyes. Nikki had returned to her son's side while Spike stood, slightly hunched, one hand pressed to his latest injury.

Nikki nodded toward the weapon. "Nice."

"Thanks," Buffy replied. "Robin had this laser pointer thingie he used during staff meetings, but I find that a crossbow is way more effective in getting a group's attention." She turned to the boys and motioned upstairs. "Shall we?"

Moments later they were gathered uncomfortably around the kitchen table: Slayer (current); Slayer (former); vampire (souled); high school principal (recently retired). Buffy sat down, hands still resting lightly on the crossbow, and the others followed.

Spike's bleeding seem to have stopped, and that apparently kept him in the game. Not that Nikki cared one way or another.

She found herself edging her chair closer to Robin's. She couldn't stop touching him; hands flitting everywhere until he covered her fingers with his own and stilled their frantic travels. She stayed her tears because he was holding her, real and firm. Breaking her heart with his faint scent of aftershave and the solidity of his muscles beneath his clothes. Her son. This man.

"So," Buffy began. She eyed each of them measuringly. "Who wants to go first?"

Stunted nervous mutterings from Robin and Spike:

"Y'see, Slayer, it's a bit hard to get into right off..."

"Buffy, I know you're suspicious but there's really nothing to be concerned about –"

"I'm a Slayer," Nikki said. "Or I was, before I died. On April 11, 1977. I remember the date real well because my son Robin's birthday was two weeks away. Now I'm back. Not quite the same as I used to be, though."

Nothing, for a minute or two. Dead air, Nikki thought and nearly bubbled out with hopeless hysterical laughter.

"You're a Slayer," Buffy repeated, at length.

"Yes."

"And you were dead."

"Yes."

"But now you're not."

"Right."

"And you've changed."

"Little bit."

Buffy digested this, fastened her gaze on all of them in turn. The silence stretched taut.

Then Buffy rolled her eyes. "Is that it? Is that the big secret? Color me stunned. I mean, wow. I just can't imagine that ever happening. Ever." Her voice rose slightly with each word.

Judging by the rather surprised and sheepish expressions of Robin and Spike, the current Slayer didn't try out sarcasm too often. Her execution, though, was flawless.

Buffy turned her attention on Nikki again. "Welcome to the Hellmouth."

"Thanks." Nikki paused. "I like what you've done with the place."

"Well, I had help. So – these 'changes' you've been going through. Can I assume that they're what brought you from near-death to perfect health in the space of a day?"

This was the hardest part, Nikki thought. To have to admit this...this perversion she'd discovered within herself. Goddamn that First and its dirty little disciples. There'd be hell to pay, true hell when she had her due. Split them open, tear out their insides, litter the ground with skulls and she could taste it, she wanted it so badly, she could feel bone crunching into dust beneath her crushing fists –

She was panting, she realized. And starved, absolutely starved for blood. The need rose up in her with claws and teeth but she forced it down. I've gone without before, she told whatever nameless faceless fucked-up deity that was prodding her. I've gone without a husband, and a mother and father, and friends. I can go without what you're offering too.

"Blood," she heard herself saying. "It's got to be blood." Across from her, Spike started. Nikki licked her lips. "I've been...sharing meals with your vampire these days." Now her eyes were on Spike. "But then, you've always saved something special out for me, haven't you?"

She saw Buffy stiffen, felt Robin's hand clench around hers. "I'm not one of them," she went on. "At least as far as I can tell. I don't know what I am."

"It's true, Slayer," Spike broke in. "She's alive."

"No thanks to you," Robin snarled.

Spike glared at him stonily but said nothing. Buffy looked from Robin to Nikki. "Robin told me about you," she said softly. "About his mother, the Slayer. Killed by a vampire."

Robin was standing now and Nikki rose as well, laid a hand on his arm. He didn't shake her off but didn't acknowledge her either.

"Not a vampire," he hissed. "Killed by –"

"Me," Spike said flatly. Nikki thought he would look away, hang his head, play at remorse. But his eyes were on her as he spoke, and suddenly it was as if they were alone again in that subway car. That moment of perfect stillness even as they cavorted with one another, essence diluted to the dance of life and death.

From far away, she heard Buffy let out a heavy, pained breath. Her son still quivered with rage beside her.

"The second Slayer you killed," Buffy murmured. "The one in New York." She turned to Nikki, and when she spoke again it was one warrior according respect to another. "He told me about you."

Nikki couldn't mask her surprise. Strange, to know she had lived on in a killer's tales.

"You knew," Robin accused Buffy. "You've known about his past –"

"Spike's different now. He has a soul."

In response Wood hauled Spike up, out of his chair. "The soul. The chip. The trigger. How many excuses does Spike get? How many people will he kill before you put him down like the animal that he is?"

Nikki couldn't tear her eyes from Spike, who hung tense but unresisting in her son's grasp. Animal...she'd thought that, herself. Watching him tear Charlene's throat out, fighting him in the subway. Seeing nothing but that gleeful rictus grin above her, before he snapped her neck and sent her into that final sleep.

Only...not final. Because here she was, flush with life, and there he was, face no longer wild with bloodlust but oddly resigned. And she tried, she tried to superimpose the old image over the new and there were places where it fit – the love of the battle and the passion in his eyes, banked now but God – there was something missing or something added, she couldn't tell which.

Spike – smirking at her from where he stood over her dying best friend.
Spike – "Shut it. Can't you see she's ill?" as he knelt over her when she first returned.
Spike – laughing at her even as she slammed his head through the train window.
Spike – forcing her to feed, to live, bending his forehead to hers as soft lips brushed tears from her skin.

"I'm gonna love watching you die, cutie."
"I love you two more every minute, every second and I can't win with you!"

Nikki sat down abruptly. "I want to be alone with my son," she said. No one moved. Nikki waited. Finally Robin shoved Spike off, took Nikki's hand in his.

***************************************

"Guest bedroom is on your left," he told her. "Probably a little musty. I'll go open a window." He disappeared into the room, remaining longer than his task required and then emerged again.

"Have a seat." He gestured toward an overstuffed leather couch and she perched on a corner. "Do you want...are you –?" He was in the kitchen now, holding the discreet cooler that Buffy had sent them home with.

"I'll keep."

He seemed relieved by her reply, and set himself to unloading the blood into the refrigerator. "You'll need clothes," he said. "Your own, not hand-me-downs from one of the girls. I can go now –"

"Are you mad at me?"

He whirled around. Her expression was candid, patient.

"How can you ask me that?" Before she could answer he was suddenly in front of her, kneeling so that they were eye level. "You're here," he whispered. "That's all that matters. Anything else..."

She reached out a trembling hand, stroked the unfamiliar face before of her. "I would never hurt you. You know that, don't you? I would die before I hurt you."

His eyes shone and he dropped his head to her lap. "Promise me you're real," he choked out.

She ran her hands along his head, his neck, everywhere she could touch. "I promise."

"You should have let me kill him. Why did you –"

"Shhh. Leave the vampire to me. I won't have you tainted with our butchery."

She felt his throat work against her body as he swallowed. "You were alone with him. If he tried to..."

"He didn't. I'll deal with him when the time comes. Put it aside now."

Robin's hands clenched at her frenziedly, gripping fistfuls of fabric even as she gathered him closer and soothed and settled him. He didn't look up. And he didn't call her 'mother'.

***************************************

"Yes."

She was bandaging his shoulder, with a bit of unnecessary roughness in Spike's opinion but he wasn't about to mention that. She yanked the gauze tight across his chest, not faltering when blood seeped immediately through the white cotton. And all the while fixed him with an icy regard that nearly broke him. Hitmefuckmekickmekillme but don't turn me out, Buffy, I can't bear it...

"You know the First sent her, one way or another. You do know that, right? Spike? She could have massacred us all in a matter of hours."

"Wouldn't have let that happen, pet. Watched her, even after she was well again. You think I'd have let her raise a hand against you or the Bit or even those silly cows upstairs?"

"She could have killed you, Spike. Having a soul doesn't mean giving up! It doesn't mean paying for your mistakes with your life! How could you? How could you give her that power, to take you away from us?"

"You know I'd never leave you. Not so long as you needed me."

"And who gets to decide that? You? Her? Are you gonna hand her a stake and say 'All yours' as soon as I turn my back?"

"I'm no good to you, not in the long run. Bit showed me that, last night."

Buffy threw up her hands. "Is that what this is about? You had a spat with Dawn? Geez, Spike! You were her hero. She worshiped you so yeah, she's a little pissed off at you these days. So is everyone! So what? You just walk away, like everybody else? The Spike I knew wouldn't have done that. He would have stayed, driving me crazy and being underfoot and getting in my face and not – not –"

"Not taking no for an answer?" Spike snapped. "We both know how that ended."

Buffy's mouth tightened. "You felt guilty. She used that."

"Christ, she thinks I'm a monster. She wasn't exactly playing the sympathy card."

Buffy pushed away from the table, began determinedly slamming cabinet doors and dropping dishes into the already-full sink. "That's good to know. Because I'm the Slayer now and I swear to God, Spike, she better not try to go all revenge-y on your ass. Not while I'm around."

"She hasn't yet. And she won't, I don't figure, 'til this latest storm passes over the Hellmouth. But there's a bitter business yet between us."

Buffy held up a hand. "I don't want to hear it. Whatever happened – it's in the past."

"Not for her!"

"I don't care, Spike. Which, you know, makes me an enormous bitch but what else is new, huh? I don't care. Screw all the drama and karma and fate that keeps getting dumped on my doorstep. All that matters is today."

"What I did –"

"Was save her. She owes you her life, Spike."

"And I owe her my death."

Part 11: Seether

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