Disclaimer: I don't own or profit from BtVS.

So many thanks to ObscureBookWyrm for her dedication in rooted out my evils. IE: terrible grammar.

Also, my boundless gratitude to all of you who have eagerly followed this story. I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.

Dawn of a New Age

Chapter Twenty Eight

Spike leaned against a tall elm tree, the thick canopy lending him spotty coverage that was threatened every time a cool breeze whispered through the leaves. The woods were quiet now. There were no more screams or shouts. No gunfire echoing in the distance. All the threats had been eliminated and those demons barely left alive had scurried back to their dens. All except for Spike, who was trapped by the sun.

His hands were outstretched in front of him, his palms up so he could see the blood inked deep into the lifelines and hard-worked callouses. He'd wiped the blood off on his dark jeans, but it clung to the deepest crevices of his skin and crept deep under his fingernails, flags of guilt etched in angry crimson lines.

It had been so long since he purposely killed a human. So long that Buffy would be horrified, if he confessed how long he'd been keeping secrets from her. He almost let the vampire out of the bag that day in his loft, but he had kept his secrets locked up tight. Now he wondered if maybe he should have confessed. Maybe he should have told her how long it had been since he silenced the beating thrum of a heart in his ears as he fed.

Or maybe the confession would have just made the look of horror on Buffy's face after he killed the soldier boy all the worse. Knowing that the harm was already done, that she would never love him, that she would only see him as a monster-it had driven him half insane with grief. He had sought out every human heartbeat he could find and rendered them silent, the insistent thrumming forever gone. Just like his family. If he was to be a monster, then he'd behave as a monster. He was intoxicated, drunk on gallons of human blood. It effervesced through his veins, healing the damage that ingesting pig's blood in the long term had done to his starving cells. He felt stronger than he had in months. Unstoppable, Invincible, Godly.

And utterly destroyed.

One little mistake, one instinctual impulse, and his family was lost to him. He saw it in her eyes before he turned his back and ran like a sodding sniveling coward.

Avoiding pools of sunlight, he slowly traced his way back to the glade where he had left Buffy behind. It smelled strongly of her. Power, blood, and wet. He stood next to the twisted roots of the oak tree, staring at the evidence staining the ground that his child had been brought into the world. If he closed his eyes and breathed deep enough he could just smell the babe. A faint green apple tang heavily covered with her mother's powerful, protective scent.

He could scent the Scoobies as well. They had surrounded Buffy for the birth of the child. They had leant her support and comfort. They had been there for her when she needed them. Who had caught his child when she slid out into the world? Glinda? Red? God help him, the Whelp? They had been there for her when he had not. Would she forgive him for that? Would she understand? Or would she sit in judgment of his sins and sharpen her stake?

When he saw Giles and Xander standing stiffly in the waiting room of Sunnydale Memorial Hospital, he knew without being told that Buffy had condemned him without trial. He had paced the edge of the woods for hours, waiting for the sun to sink far enough in the sky to allow him to run for the sewer entrance a mile away. It had taken him another hour to traverse the sewers once underground. The tunnels at the far edge of the town were in disrepair, hardly used, and many were blocked with debris that hadn't been cleared in years. By the time he exited into the hospital parking lot it was full dark. From his position outside, he could see the fully lit lobby where the two men waited. Xander paced with anxious energy that radiated nervousness while Giles stood with stiff stoicism, staring out the paneled windows towards the parking lot as if he knew Spike was watching.

The vampire wiped all emotion from his face and entered the building like he was meant to be there. As if he was welcome.

Giles saw him first, and his grim expression only deepened. Instead of blocking Spike's path like expected, the enigmatic watcher extended his hand. Bewildered, Spike stared at it for a moment, before reaching out to grasp it.

"Congratulations. It's a girl." Giles didn't smile as he shook his hand. Spike continued to stare at him mutely.

"You okay, man?"

Spike's eyes flickered to Xander, who had pulled to a stop next to Giles. The boy wasn't radiating fear, but there was a tense anxiety vibrating through his body that made Spike shift his weight as if preparing to bring down prey.

"Buffy's fine." Giles' smooth baritone assured him, and Spike's eyes snapped back to the watcher. "The baby's healthy. All her fingers and toes. She's…"

"Perfect," finished Xander. "Utterly perfect." The boy looked like he was in love. Spike barely resisted flashing his fangs, but the overwhelming relief that rushed through his body cooled any latent irritation.

As Spike's shoulders slumped, he hadn't realized how worried he'd been. Buffy was strong. She was the slayer, but giving birth in the woods wasn't the most ideal situation for a modern woman brought up with all the amenities of health care. They had discussed a natural birth plan, but Spike was pretty sure that this was a little more natural than she had wanted.

"She's okay? They're both okay?" he clarified anxiously. "No complications?"

"Not a one." Xander clapped Spike on the shoulder. The boy's eyes widened and he quickly withdrew his hand. It was hard to tell who was more startled by the camaraderie. "She's got some lungs. She started out all quiet, but as soon as we got to the truck, she really let it rip. You're gonna have your hands full with that one."

Xander's face fell when he realized what he'd just said. The tension between the men ratcheted up a notch.

"That's it then? She told you what I done?" Spike shoved his guilty hands into the pockets of his jeans. He knew all the traces of blood were gone, but he could feel the phantom wetness of it on his hands.

"Saw it," Xander offered. "You ripped Riley's throat out, man. There was blood everywhere. Even on Buffy."

Spike's hands fisted in his pockets. His fangs were descending before he even knew what was happening. "He pointed a gun at them! At my woman. My child!" he snarled.

Giles quickly invaded his space, pushing and turning Spike so his back was to the rest of the people in the waiting room.

"Calm yourself. Shake it off," Giles ordered in his best Ripper voice.

Spike pushed back his gameface, but the rage still boiled inside him. Every time he played the scene over in his head, it always ended one of two ways. Either Riley killed his family, or Spike killed Riley. Either way Spike lost.

"She's kicking Ol' Spike to the curb, isn't she? Can't be trusted. Nothing more than a serial killer in prison and I just got paroled." Spike's hands were still fisted in his pockets, and his shoulders hunched defensively. "Guess I should be thankful she's not staking my ass. Maybe we'll save that for later. Our last dance," he laughed bitterly.

"Just give her time. She's had a traumatic experience." Giles' hand curled over his shoulder. Spike knew he should shake it off, but instead he leaned into the fatherly touch.

"An' I haven't?" Spike sneered.

"Don't turn this into a pissing match, William."

The censorious tone only made Spike more furious. "Fuck!" He slammed his fist into the wall. The other occupants in the room started, but Giles and Xander crowded at Spike's back to protect him from their curious glares.

Spike rested his forehead against his fist and leaned into the wall. Who was right and who was wrong? Was she right to keep her distance from a killer? Was he right in killing a threat to his family? Was she wrong for not trusting him? Was he wrong for asking her to love a monster who had murdered nightly for over a century? Why couldn't it just be simple? Why couldn't he just be a man and she a woman? No destiny. No nature. Just them.

"I want to see her. I want to see my child."

Giles' hand tightened on his shoulder. "She's not ready for that just yet."

"So I can't even see my child?" The pain in Spike's voice reverberated between the three men.

Giles swallowed hard before responding. "She needs to rest. Once she feels safe, she'll come around."

"Will she?" Spike scoffed. "You didn't see her face, Watcher. She was horrified. If I hadn't got the chip out, he would've killed her, killed our baby. But she looked at me like I was the monster." Spike pressed his face into the crux of his elbow, wiping his eyes before turning back to the men.

Giles stood, very tall and very proper. "A slayer has a very rigid view of right or wrong."

"That you taught her!" Spike burst out.

Giles looked pained as he spoke. "Not entirely. It's part of who she is, slayer or not. It's theorized that a person's morality is part of why they are chosen. They are already endowed with a healthy sense of ethics."

"Right," Spike agreed with a disbelieving flash of his white teeth. "And what of you, Watcher? What will she say when she finds out you blew that baby doctor's head off with a shotgun? Or you even goin' to tell her?" Xander made a startled noise that was ignored by the other men.

Impossibly, Giles drew himself up taller. "I will confess to her, if only to help her see your actions in a new light."

"That so? You're willin' to put yourself out there for a vampire that only a few weeks ago you thought of as dirt under your heel?" Giles looked away, his cheeks flushed.

Recovered, Xander chimed in. "We'll talk to her." Spike flashed him a look of supreme disbelief. He could almost believe the watcher would stand up for him. They had worked together to free Buffy from the labs and Spike had seen a side of the man that was terrifying, but the boy was another story. He'd had nothing but grief from the child since the beginning. There was no reason to think that was going to change now.

"Right," Spike drawled. "You'll talk to her. Take my side, will you?"

"Yeah, Spike. I will." Xander looked Spike in the eye and for the first time the vampire saw a man standing in front of him.

Spike cocked his head to the side. "Why?"

"Because Spike," Giles began. "It's clear to us that you love Buffy and your child. You've changed. It's a hard pill to swallow after what Angelus put us through-"

Spike's growl rippled through the room. Since his first outburst the other occupants in the room had clustered around the chairs closest to the reception desk, leaving the men to talk freely near the doors, but now they canted even further away from the trio, casting concerned, slightly terrified glances in their direction.

Xander clamped his hand over Spike's shoulder and this time he didn't remove it. "But we see it, Spike. And Buffy will too. Just give her time."

Spike slumped, turning so he could stare out into the darkened parking lot. In the glass he could see the reflections of Xander and Giles, but once again he was nowhere to be seen. "Time," he murmured, his eyes sad. "Meanwhile, I wait. Unable to see if my woman and child are healthy and safe with my own eyes. Unable to hold my baby."

"They are well, I swear it to you, William."

Spike couldn't watch Giles' concerned face in the glass any longer. "Yeah." Spike whispered, his voice full of longing while staring down at his empty hands still seeing the blood.

Spike sat behind the wheel of his fully loaded, black 2000 Jeep Grand Cherokee Laredo, and stared at the house. Giles had called to tell him that all three Summers women had been released from the hospital earlier that day. Joyce was healing nicely from her surgery. All signs of the growing tumor had been removed, and the doctors were as confident as they could be that there would be no complications. Buffy could have left the hospital earlier, her slayer healing kicking in before the Scoobies had rushed her through the doors, but the young woman had refused to leave without her mother, and the doctors wanted to make sure that neither she nor the baby developed any complications. It wasn't terribly uncommon for women to give birth before making it to the hospital, and her post labor observation was just a precaution.

For Spike, the three days had been pure agony. Every night he had gone to the hospital, only to be told that Buffy refused to see him. The baby was kept in the room with her, and he had no chance of sneaking a peek in the nursery. His child had been in this world for three whole days and he had yet to lay eyes on her. Spike was sure that if he weren't already dead, he would be slowly dying.

The unbroken leather seat creaked when he opened the door to pull his long length from the vehicle. As he turned to shut the door, he glanced at the infant seat tightly secured in the middle of the back seat. He swallowed hard and slammed the door. If his heart could beat it would be racing as he walked up to the porch. The light was on, almost as if Buffy knew he was coming. Maybe she did. They had only been together a few short months, but Buffy knew him better than anyone else in this world. Even better than his sire, who he had devoted himself to for more than a century.

Drawing himself up and taking a deep breath he didn't need, he knocked commandingly on the door. He reminded himself that he had every right to be there. That he had every right to see his child.

Joyce opened the door. She looked pale and tired. A square patch of gauze covered her temple. When she saw him, her haggard face drew itself into sad lines of resignation. Spike felt his heart plummet into his stomach.

"It's good to see you well, Joyce."

Her smile wobbled around the edges. "Thank you, Spike. I'm happy to see that you are well too."

He scraped the toe of his boot across the wooden boards of the porch. He suddenly wished he had worn one of his business suits instead of his usual attire. He desperately needed to look more distinguished. More respectable. As little like himself as possible. Scowling, he drew himself up. He couldn't change who he was just by changing his clothes. If Buffy couldn't accept that then they would never have a relationship.

"Let me get Buffy." She turned away, leaving him standing on the porch. He thought about letting himself inside, but knew it might be considered rude. This was too important for him to sod it up with a misstep.

Buffy came to the door and the first thing he thought was that she was beautiful. Her hair was pulled up into a messy ponytail, the roots dark from being unwashed for days. Her skin tone was a little gray under her usual golden tan, and there were dark circles under her eyes from lack of sleep. In all, she looked like a woman who had been caring for an infant that demanded attention every four hours regardless of time of day. She looked like a mother, and to Spike, it was the most beautiful sight he had ever seen.

In her arms she was holding a bundle wrapped up in a cream-colored fuzzy swaddling blanket. It was the one he had spent twenty minutes fondling when she had dragged him to that God-awful baby store. It was the softest thing he had ever touched, and now it was wrapped around his daughter.

"Is that her?" he whispered, his tone reverent. His blue eyes burned with intensity as he stared. He lifted his hand to peel the blanket away from the infant's face, but his knuckles rapped hard against an unseen barrier.

His eyes shot up to Buffy's. She looked at him with shocking sadness, but quickly hid it away behind a cool façade.

"Buffy." It wasn't possible to infuse a single word with more hurt. Buffy's eyes shifted away from his in shame.

"I can't take the chance. I'm a mother now. I have to protect my baby."

"Take the chance?" he replied uncomprehendingly. Slowly anger chased away the hurt, and his face grew just as cold as hers. "Our baby," he spat. "She's mine too. I would never hurt her or you."

"I can't know that," she choked out.

"You do know that," he snarled, just barely keeping the beast in check. "I love you both with everything that I am." There, he had finally said it. The words he never uttered, but showed her with every action, every deed.

He was shocked to see tears streaming down her face. Evidence that she wasn't as unaffected as she would like him to believe. Her voice cracked when she spoke.

"I know you think that now."

"I don't think it, Buffy. I know it. I love you."

Buffy drew herself up, wiping her tears away on the back of her wrist. She looked him straight in the eye and said, "You're a thing, Spike. Barely more than an animal. You can't love. You can't feel."

Spike wanted to howl. He didn't stop his fangs from descending. He wanted her to see the beast. The animal. "An animal. That's what you think of me, Slayer? Did you know that wolves mate for life? As do swans, and the albatross that hangs about your neck." He glared at her before sneering, "Black vultures are loyal too, disgusting things that they are. They all have more honor, integrity, and faithfulness than you fickle humans. And near every single creature on this Earth cares for its offspring. Nurtures them. Sees to their safety. Can you say the same for your precious humans, Buffy?"

"Don't twist this around, Spike. You're a vampire. Someday you'll lose control-"

"And what?" he cut her off.

She looked him square in the eye. "You're a killer, Spike. Plain and simple."

"He pointed a gun at you." His voice was low and guttural. "I did what any man, human or otherwise, would do if his woman and child were threatened."

"You were out of control."

"I have plenty of control!" He slammed his fist into the doorframe. "Dammit! I'm not without my faults, but I won't stand here and let you accuse me of something I would never do. I love you. I love her. I would never do anything to hurt either of you."

The baby fussed, and Buffy clutched her tighter to her chest. He wished he could see her. See her tiny, perfect face. Her little baby hand. Wished he could hold her just once. He was staring at his child when Buffy spoke, her words low and deadly.

"So you're telling me that nothing else happened out in the woods? You let the other soldiers get away? You didn't go on a rampage?"

His eyes dropped from the child to the toes of his black boots. He couldn't lie to her. For the first time in a hundred years he regretted his actions. Was it possible to grow a soul? Spike's hand tightened on the doorframe at the thought.

"I didn't think so," Buffy muttered.

His claws sank deep into the soft wood, but outwardly he remained frozen. An icy chill was creeping through his veins. He hadn't felt this cold since Drusilla stole his life force.

"There have to be exceptions made," he whispered hoarsely to his feet.

"There can't be exceptions for murder, Spike." Her voice was low, but there wasn't a hint of softness. No leniency. "Besides, there's Drusilla to consider."

Startled, he lifted his head. "Drusilla has nothing to do with this."

"Doesn't she?" Buffy demanded.

"No, she doesn't," he returned forcibly.

"What happens when she strolls back into town and asks you to serve up our baby on a silver platter?"

"That would never happen!" he exploded. He felt sick to his stomach. How could this woman, the woman he had poured so much love into these last months, think so little of him?

Buffy's brow winged upwards in silent disbelief. The sickness in his stomach started to rise to his throat when he thought of the many times he had taken bundles exactly like the one Buffy held and handed them over to his black goddess. How many times had he watched her sway and coo, before her fangs shot out with a crunch of cartilage, silencing the infant's wails? Hundreds? Thousands? There had been an incalculable number of babies, children, and people-just innocent people-over the last hundred and twenty years.

He drew himself up tall and deadly as he stared her down with all the disgust he could muster. Not only for her, but himself.

"Yeah, she may ask. But I would never do it." His tone was cold, and without a hint of uncertainty. He leaned in close, only the invisible barrier stopping him from getting right in her face. "And I would stake her dead for asking."

He heard her swallow, watched as her full lips thinned. He drew back slightly, rage making him cold inside and out. "Since we're flinging exes around, what about Angel? What happens if his soul gets yanked 'cause you're all chummy again?"

Buffy's lips flattened even more. "Angel and I aren't going to get chummy."

His shrug was nonchalant, but it didn't hide the anger burning behind his eyes. "Could happen."

"Would not!" she spat.

"Doesn't feel so good when you get accused of things that could happen, does it, kitten?"

"You point is irrelevant." She lifted her chin. "Angel isn't a threat, you are."

"Dammit, woman!" he shouted. "I'm not a threat!"

The noise startled the baby, and she began to wail. Buffy shushed her, bouncing her lightly. Joyce appeared, and Spike watched with despair as the woman took his daughter away to the other room. From just over the edge of the blanket he thought he saw a tuft of dark hair.

Buffy turned back to him. "You aren't welcome here, Spike. My decision isn't going to change. Please respect it."

She started to close the door in Spike's face, but he edged closer in a panic.

"Wait!"

At his frantic tone, she widened the door slightly to peer at him. She couldn't look him in the face. She couldn't see the tears in his eyes.

"What's her name?" he begged.

Her face revealed a spasm of pain that she quickly hid away. "Dawn," she replied softly. "Dawn Anne Summers."

She closed the door in his face, but he didn't move. Behind the thin wooden frame he could hear Buffy finally give way to sobs. Even through the door, he could sense the heat of her hand against the wood. He leaned forward, placing his palm flat with hers. Deeper in the house, he could hear Dawn's cries.

"This must be the ashes Dru was nattering on about," he muttered, before turning on his heel and disappearing into the dark.

THE END

But wait, you say! What about Buffy and Spike? Does she get her head out of her ass and does Spike get off his knees and grows some balls? If the baby is Dawn, then what about Glory? Is she out there? How did Dawn come to be? What about the Initiative? Where's Professor Walsh and is that freaky Frankenstein monster around? Did anyone remember the baby demons in the sub-level of the Initiative labs? Crap! What about Graham and Chantilly? Is he man enough to take on a demon single mother who has four, count 'em, four little broodlings to care for? Hey, isn't there some freaky vampire cult hanging around looking to worship the Miraculous One? Did Faith ever wake up from her coma? Do you think Giles is going to get a leg over on Joyce now that she's presumably not going to die? Are all those demon orphans going to find homes? Mostly importantly, do you think it's possible for a vampire to grow a soul? Raise your hand if you want answers to these burning questions. Or just leave me a review letting me know what you think, that works too.

Stay tuned for the second book in this series, The Dawning.

Thanks for reading! May your dreams be filled with chocolate-covered Spikes. Yeah that's right, multiple Spikes.