Love As Strong As Death by Enigmaticblue

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Prologue & Chapter 1

"Place me like a seal over your heart, like a seal on your arm; for love is as strong as death, its jealousy unyielding as the grave. It burns like blazing fire, like a mighty flame. Many waters cannot quench love; rivers cannot wash it away. If one were to give all the wealth of his house for love, it would be utterly scorned." ~Song of Songs 8:6-7

Prologue: January 2017

"I don't want you to leave." Buffy spoke as though her words alone would prevent Spike from going. For a moment he paused in his packing, only to begin again, the tension in his shoulders obvious. "Please, Spike."

He zipped up the duffel in one vicious jerk, the long months of arguing having taken their toll. "No, Buffy. This time, it isn't about you."

She flinched as though he'd hit her. "Spike—"

"'ve done everythin' you've ever asked of me," he continued relentlessly. "I need this."

"And what if you don't come back?" she demanded. "You promised you wouldn't leave!"

"I leave every time I walk out that door to do a job," he snarled. "An' so do you. We get no guarantees in this life, Slayer, except the ones we create ourselves. I told you I'd always come back, an' I always will. Don't start doubting me now."

"I'm not doubting you!" she shot back. "This is—this is a lot more risky than anything we've done in the past, and you're going alone."

Blue eyes sparked as he tried to brush past her. "That's a funny way of puttin' it when you know Wesley's goin' with me."

"Please, Spike."

"No." The word was stark, layered with years of fear and anger, sparked by one off-handed comment several months before. "How long before I'd have to leave anyway, Buffy?" Spike demanded. "You think the neighbors wouldn't begin to notice that I'm not agin'? 's not just gonna be Meg's teachers who make comments, Slayer, 's gonna be everyone who sees us together. And meanwhile I would watch as you, an' Wesley, an' the rest get older. You think I've forgotten that 'm goin' to watch you die one of these days, if I'm not dust first? Well, I won't. 've lost you once, an' 'm not goin' to let it happen again."

It was the same argument, the same words. They had gone round for months, Buffy unwilling to let him leave to find a solution that he could live with. Spike unwilling to give up on the idea. The thoughtless comment of a teacher, that there was no way Spike could be Meg's father because he appeared to be too young had sparked an intense debate that showed no signs of diminishing.

Spike, who had been as patient as he was able, finally gave up on convincing Buffy that this was the best thing to do. Wesley had been an unexpected advocate, and after months of research they were embarking on a quest that would hopefully grant the vampire his wish.

Buffy wanted to threaten him. She wanted to tell Spike that if he left now, he could never come back, but she well remembered the pain those words had caused her when Joyce had used them. She had left anyway, and months later, they had both still been reeling.

Besides, on the off chance that Spike was actually successful, Buffy wanted him to come back.

"I love you," she said, her voice carrying a resignation that hadn't been there up till now. It was that tone which caught Spike's attention and caused him to pause in his flight. "Just—be careful."

He stood, torn, wanting both to go to her and to walk out. Spike was raw from months of arguments, weeks of feeling as though she wasn't listening to him out of her own selfish reasons and fears. "I will come back." He didn't move, not even when he felt Buffy's arms around his waist.

"I believe you." They stood in silence. "Please look at me."

Spike turned so that he could face her. "Buffy—"

"Come back to me," she said intently. For the first time, Buffy understood the necessity of loving Spike enough to let him go. "That's all I ask."

"I swear it."

She released him then, and Spike opened the door of their bedroom to find Meg standing there, looking up at him with those great big eyes of hers that were so much like Dawn's. "Dad? Are you leaving?"

"Gotta go, moppet," he said gently. "But I'll be back before you know it."

Meg knew that adults lied sometimes, and she knew there was a good possibility that her father was probably lying to her now. Her parents had been fighting for months about her dad leaving, and from what Meg had overheard, Buffy didn't think Spike was going to return.

On the other hand, her dad had never lied to her before. Meg gave him a hug, feeling his arms come around her, their familiar strength comforting. "Love you."

"Love you too, moppet."

And then he was gone. It was a day that Meg would remember forever.

~~~~~

Wesley embraced Nika with a desperation he hated to let her see. "You'll be alright?"

"I do know how to take care of myself, cariad ," Nika reminded him. "Besides, Nain is here to help me, as is Hannah."

Wesley stole a look at both Enid and his Slayer. "I know I'm leaving you in good hands," he said to his wife, pulling back.

Unlike Buffy, Nika understood completely why the vampire was making the choice he was. After all, as a woman who had lost almost everyone she loved, she could see why Spike would take steps to prevent suffering the same kind of loss.

Wesley gave Enid a hug and then put his arm around Hannah's shoulders. "Buffy is in charge while I'm gone," he told her. "You'll do as she says?"

"Why would I treat Buffy any differently than I treat you?" Hannah replied cheekily.

Wesley tugged on her braid in remonstrance. "Take care, Hannah."

She smiled back at him, recognizing his caution for the concern that it was. "Will do, Watcher-man."

Wesley had already said goodbye to his children, who were in bed at this late hour. He hated leaving them. He—who had never thought to be so settled—was the perfect example of a family man. Nika gave him a final kiss. "Take care of Spike, Wesley."

Enid touched his stubbled cheek. "Be safe."

He went, buoyed on the well-wishes of his family.

Chapter 1: October 2014

Wesley was going over the Reilgar prophecies with a sense of newly won purpose. The Council had sent him the texts over a week before, and he hadn't made much headway. One of the difficulties inherent in owning one's own business and trying to raise two children was the resultant lack of time. The code was finally cracking, however, and it looked as though he'd be through sooner than anticipated.

While the demon-hunting business was still going strong, Wesley had made the difficult decision to cut back on his field work in the last few years. Although he still loved the down and dirty side of things, he had other responsibilities.

He had too many ties to the larger world to risk death daily.

The slight squeaking of the door had him looking up. Will stood in the doorway watching him, his glasses slipping down his nose slightly. "Is there something you needed, Will?" Wesley asked, trying to hide his impatience. While he loved his sons dearly, it was difficult to get a moment's peace to get any work done.

The boy shrugged. "I just—"

When he didn't move, Wesley bit back a sigh and then pushed back from his desk. "Come here, William." Will sidled up to Wesley's desk, obviously nervous about having interrupted his father. "Where's your brother?"

Will shrugged. "He went to play football with the guys."

Wesley rubbed his eyes. His boys, although they appeared identical, couldn't be more different. Will was shy and reserved, while Davey was a ball of energy, drawing people to him like a magnet. "Would you like to see what I'm working on?"

Will's eyes lit up. He'd inherited every ounce of his father's linguistic abilities, and he loved nothing more than to pour over a text for hours. "Can I?"

"May I," Wesley instructed automatically, and then pulled Will up to sit on his lap. "In a translation like this," he began, "it is imperative that you first recognize the pattern and genre of the text..."

~~~~~

Meg dashed to pick up the phone as soon as it started ringing. Her mom was out running errands, and her father was still sleeping after a full night's work. She had been given the very important job of answering the phone or doorbell when it rang so that Spike wouldn't be disturbed.

She was just hoping that her dad woke up soon. Life was always more fun with him around.

"Summers' residence," she said primly, just as she'd been instructed.

"Meg?"

She recognized the voice immediately. "Hey, Uncle Giles."

"Are your parents around?" he asked.

Meg recognized the serious tone. It was the voice he used whenever there was a problem. Giles didn't often call about emergencies, but when he did, either her mom or dad went away for a while. She hated when that happened. "Mom's gone, but Dad's here," she replied reluctantly. "He's sleeping."

She could hear Giles sigh through the line. "I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you to wake him, Meg. This is rather important."

"Okay."

The next moment she heard a click. "No need, moppet," Spike said, his voice gravelly from sleep. "I've got it."

Meg had planned on hanging up the phone, but curiosity won out. She wanted to know what was so serious, and what affect it would have on her. She carefully hung up, only to pick the handset up again, holding her hand over the mouthpiece to prevent her dad from hearing her breathing.

Spike had picked up the phone only to hear Giles asking his daughter to wake him up. Much like Meg, he recognized trouble when he heard it. "What's up, Watcher?" he growled as soon as he'd heard the other line go dead.

"I'm afraid I have bad news," Giles replied, his tone grave. "Faith is dead."

Spike was silent for a long moment. "How?"

"There is a master vampire rising in Cleveland ," the head Watcher replied. "He has been gathering his forces, and we fear that he is going to attempt to open the Hellmouth there."

Spike ran a hand through his hair, sitting up a little straighter in bed. "Thought you had a coven there. What's the head bint's name? Swallow or some such?"

"It's Wren, actually," Giles said, and if the situation weren't so serious, he might have found that funny. "She has managed to prevent this vampire from tapping into any of the Hellmouth's power, but they are not equipped to take him out. That was to have been Faith's job."

"That how she was killed?"

"As far as we know," Giles replied. "Information is rather spotty at the moment."

Spike closed his eyes, realizing what that meant. "And her Watcher?" He'd met the man a couple times—once at Wesley's wedding and again during one of Faith's infrequent trips to L.A. Spike had liked him.

"Also killed," Giles said quietly. "From preliminary reports, it looks as though they both went down at the same time. We've recovered the bodies, and they were not—we've taken steps to ensure that they will rest in peace."

Spike swallowed hard. "I see. The next Slayer?"

"I'm actually on my way to catch a flight to L.A. ," Giles replied. "Wesley has been confirmed as her Watcher, and he will need to be informed."

"You want me to do it?"

"No," Giles replied. "I'll take care of it. I have someone else going to collect the new Slayer. As she's a ward of the state, we are planning on relocating her to L.A.."

Spike chuckled. "So Wes is getting another kid, huh?"

"Something like that," the Watcher replied. "I will need you to inform Buffy, however. I'll need to talk to both of you about taking care of this problem."

Spike let out a little growl. "Hang on a mo, Watcher. You know the rules. You get one of us at a time."

"I understand, Spike, but I think you might want to make an exception in this case. This vampire has already killed one Slayer, and—"

"And I don't want to give him a shot at a second," Spike snarled. "You'll get me, but—"

"I think Buffy should be allowed to make her own decision on this, Spike," Giles said in his best authoritative voice.

Spike was silent, finally saying, "We'll talk when you get into town. More than that, I'm not goin' to promise."

"Very well." Giles cleared his throat. "I should be there within 24 hours. I'll stop by Wesley's first, but I'd like to see you soon after."

"Fine." Spike listened as the line went dead, and then he heard a click. "Bloody hell," he muttered, realizing that Meg had probably heard the entire conversation. Spike pulled on a pair of pants and headed downstairs to find Meg at the kitchen table doing her homework. "Don't even pretend to be innocent, luv," Spike said dryly. "I know you were listenin' in."

Meg froze for a minute, and then went back to writing out her spelling words. "I wasn't."

"I heard you," Spike replied. "An' don't be lyin' to me, now. You get caught, you come clean."

"Uncle Giles had his serious voice," she pointed out with just the beginning of a pout. Spike nearly groaned. He could resist the pout, but it wasn't easy even after years of practice. "You guys always have to leave when he sounds like that."

Spike succumbed. "Don't let your mother catch you eavesdropping," he said. "She'll have both our hides, and you know it." He eyed her papers. "Got most of your work done, then?"

"Yeah," Meg said. Then she asked quietly, "Are you and Mom going to have to leave?"

Spike wanted to tell her that it wouldn't happen, that they would be leaving Giles to take care of things himself. He also knew that it would be a lie. "I don't know. We'll just have to see."

"Is Mom going to die too?"

Spike's eyes widened. "Why the bloody hell would you ask a stupid question like that?" he demanded.

Meg had long since grown used to her father's outbursts. "Because Faith was a Slayer, wasn't she? And Mom's a Slayer, and Faith died."

Spike took a deep, unnecessary breath. "My whole job is makin' sure your mum is safe," he finally said. "Promise you, luv. Whatever wants her is goin' to have to go through me first."

~~~~~

Davey banged through the front door in a whirlwind of energy, as usual. Nika called out, "Davey, wash your hands, please. Dinner's almost ready."

"Yes, Mum," he called back, tossing his ball into his bedroom and then rushing into the bathroom. Davey was really hoping that no one would notice how badly banged up his knuckles were. The guys had been making fun of Will again, calling him a sissy and a momma's boy, which wasn't true at all. If anything, Davey knew his brother took after their father, and he envied him that. Will hardly had to study at all to come home with top marks, and he was always talking about languages and what a great Watcher he'd be someday.

Davey would much rather take after Uncle Spike, who understood that a guy didn't always want to be in front of some big, thick book.

Nika and Enid were standing in the kitchen putting the finishing touches on dinner. Nika turned to greet her son with a smile. "And how was football?"

Davey shrugged. "It was fine."

Her sharp eyes caught the scraped knuckles and the dirt on his cheek. "Were you fighting again?"

He winced. "No, Mum. We were just, you know, wrestling."

"Be honest now, Dafydd," Enid chided him. "You'll get yourself in more trouble otherwise."

Davey stared down at the toes of his shoes. Nobody understood what it took for him to make sure Will wasn't getting picked on all the time. Not that his twin couldn't take care of himself, but Davey hated hearing people make fun of him.

Enid wrapped him in a hug, whispering in Welsh, "And is this about your brother, Dafydd-bach?" At his silent nod, she gave him a quick squeeze and then looked at Nika. "I think we can let him slide this time, cariad ."

Nika, who knew exactly what Davey would have been fighting about, sighed. "Are his parents going to be calling us?"

Davey shrugged. "I don't know. I didn't hurt him that bad."

"Badly," Nika corrected automatically, and then gave a little laugh. "Oh, Dafydd," she said. "Whatever am I to do with you?"

Davey relaxed, realizing that the worst was over, and he wasn't going to get into any trouble. He watched as his mother put her hand over her abdomen. "Is the baby kicking? Can I feel?"

"Here," she replied, taking his hand and placing it over the slight bulge. Davey's eyes lit up with wonder.

"That is so cool," he said reverently.

Nika smiled at him fondly, ruffling his dark brown hair. Both boys were spitting images of their father, although Will was the one who took after him in personality. Davey, on the other hand, was very much like the sister she had lost, and Nika felt a special kind of love for him.

Now there was another child growing inside her after years of trying, and Nika couldn't help but hope for a daughter, one who would carry on the family traditions. She loved her boys dearly, but she longed for a little girl.

"I hope it's a girl," Davey said, seeming to read her thoughts.

Nika smiled down at him. "Why is that, cariad ?"

He stared back at her incredulously. "I already have a brother. It's not like I need another one."

~~~~~

It was the second time she had to move in as many months, and it just wasn't fair. Although, Mr. and Mrs. Collins had said that she was moving because they'd found a permanent placement for her, so maybe that wouldn't be so bad.

Hannah stuffed the last of her clothing in the bag and looked around the little bedroom. This had been the first place where she had her own room, which had been very nice. Her foster parents had been nice too, if a little strict. She didn't mind that so much, though. There were worse places, worse problems to have.

She stared down at her hands and wondered how long she could hide it. No one had noticed so far, not even her coach. How anyone could miss the fact that she'd gone from only being able to do a somersault with a twist to a triple in a day was beyond her, but Hannah had long since learned that people saw only what they wanted to.

It was the major reason that no one had noticed she was pretty much on her own until one of her neighbors called CPS.

Hannah didn't blame anybody. The social workers and counselors they'd made her talk to all told her the same thing—that her mom was sick and she did the best she could. It wasn't Hannah's fault. Well, no shit, Sherlock.

She tucked a piece of bright red hair behind her ears and then laid back down on the bed. After a year in foster care, Hannah was thoroughly sick of the whole business. It was the same everywhere. Oh, sure, some places were better than others, but no one had been downright mean to her. It was always the same, though. She'd be in one place for a month or two or maybe three, and then someone would come in, tell her to pack her things, and she'd be off to the next place.

There was no doubt in her mind that whatever anyone said about "permanent placement," it was a myth, and nothing more. Older kids didn't get permanent anything. Even though they'd terminated her mom's parental rights, it wasn't like anyone would want her.

Everybody wanted babies and little kids, not teenagers. Nobody wanted an adolescent. Hannah had learned that lesson the hard way with her first family. It was just better not to get attached.

A knock on the door preceded Mrs. Collins' face. "They should be here soon," she said with a nervous smile.

"Okay," Hannah replied. "I'm pretty much packed."

Mrs. Collins found herself nervous in the face of the girl's equanimity. She had expected a little more emotion out of her. "Are you okay, Hannah?"

Hannah frowned. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"Well, it's sudden, and—"

The look Hannah gave her was full of compassion and a maturity beyond her years. "I knew I wasn't going to stay forever, Mrs. Collins. It's really okay."

Actually, it really wasn't, but no one else needed to know that.

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