Title: Baby
Author: BKNY
Pairing: Pam/Tara
Rating: T
Synopsis: Tara's latest HMAL case has unexpected consequences
Tl;dr: So I wasn't sure whether to continue this, but I sensed there would be a fandom emergency tonight and finished it up. This story comes right after "Something Funny" and has shit all to do with the finale, which I've only read about on tumblr/LC and haven't watched. I prefer the weird little domestic vampire universe I've created. I never intended for it to veer from the show, but I'm kind of glad it did. I think it's inline with what I know Pam and Tara to be, so I'm gonna ignore whatever's happening with the show until the writers kick their crack habits. You don't have to read all of my fics leading to this one…but you have to read all of my fics leading to this one
The title is copped from the Davendra Banhart (eww hipster music, I know) song that inspired me to keep going in this direction. Lemme know what you think. Or if you want an e-hug or whatever drop me a line.
BABY
Speeding through North London in the powder pink SV 9 Competizione she'd affectionately nicknamed 'Barbie's dream whip', Tara ignored the nervous look Pam was directing her way from the passenger seat. On the rare occasion she got the chance to drive her partner's aging sport car, Tara took full advantage of the supped up machine's speed and smooth handing.
"Tara," Pam yelled as the car that had been a gift from her maker came close to scratching a parked car.
"I saw it," Tara replied casually. From her tone and demeanor behind the wheel, few would have guessed she was breaking every speed limit in the country.
While Pam found the relaxed look of complete control Tara had when she was driving insanely sexy, she wasn't at all turned on by the thought of what her lover's reckless streak might do to her car's custom paint job.
"You can drive back, if it'll make you feel better" Tara murmured as she pulled into the same parking lot she'd just departed from hours earlier. The pink car spun to a screeching halt, much to the amusement of some local teens scattered about the estate grounds.
A few of the kids ventured toward the flashy Italian vehicle, an uncommon sight in the working class neighborhood. Their interest peaked twofold at the equally uncommon sight of the curious couple who soon emerged from the car and strode off as if on some top-secret mission.
Opting to conceal their supernatural status from the young onlookers, Pam and Tara walked toward their destination at human speed. Both women knew from experience that there was a good chance they'd return to a vandalized vehicle if anyone pegged their true nature.
"If any of those little shits touch that car, I will personally-"
Pam's threat was cut short as the sound of a window shattering sounded broke the relative calm of the quiet estate. Hearing the breaking glass and the sickening thud that followed, Tara and Pam immediately started toward the noise.
"Sounds like the party's started without us," Pam jested after a woman's horrified scream filled the breezy night air around them.
By the time the pair reached the source of the noise, a small crowd had already gathered. Pushing her way through, Tara was horrified by what she discovered. The broken and mangled body of the man she'd come there to assist lay sprawled across the concrete in a puddle of his own blood.
"Moses," Tara whispered as she bent down to see what, if anything, she could do for the human whose glassy dark brown eyes were still open, staring blankly up into the indigo sky.
A strong grip caught her arm and yanked her back.
"I believe we have another matter to attend to," Pam said smoothly, as she all but dragged Tara away from the bystanders.
"What the hell," Tara protested, roughly extricating herself from her maker's hold. "He needs help. I can try to-"
"He's dead, Tara," Pam said as she led Tara away once more. "And so's that girl if we don't get her the fuck out of here before met shows up."
"You don't think…" Tara began disbelievingly. "No," She protested, adamant that a child so young couldn't be held responsible for a crime they couldn't even comprehend.
"She's vampire. And she can't exactly defend herself in court."
As Pam's words registered, Tara's jaw hardened with resolve. By law, the punishment for any vampire found to be responsible for the death of a human was the true death. If there was to be any hope for the girl's survival, she had to get her out of there. Fast. After exchanging a brief look of understanding, the vampires took off with break neck speed.
Nearly taking the door off its hinges, Tara entered Moses' messy flat like a woman possessed. It didn't take long to find what she was looking for sitting amidst large shards of broken glass and doll babies.
"Hey," Tara called out to the little girl who was playing with her doll as if she hadn't a care in the world. "Remember us?"
Staring blankly at the older vampires for a moment, the toddler turned back to the business of play.
"Guess not," Pam said as she walked pass the baby vamp. Broken glass crunched beneath her heels as she moved to inspect the broken window the girl's human father had recently plummeted from.
"Notice anything?" Tara asked, moving about the apartment like a dust devil.
"Why yes," Pam exclaimed airily, her Southern burr in full force. "It appears to be broken."
"That all," Tara questioned, sounding more than a little annoyed as she sped around stuffing anything and everything that might indicate the presence of a child or a pint sized vampire into a large duffle bag.
Peeking through the glass at the grounds below, Pam caught sight of two officers surveying the scene below while two more approached the high-rise's entrance. "We've got company," She said, before calmly stepping away from the window.
The words stopped Tara dead in her tracks. Her brow furrowed in thought, as she looked around the messy flat, uncertain of what to grab next.
Rolling her eyes, Pam stepped forward and snatched the teacup vampire up from where she was sitting with her toys. Haphazardly tucked under the tall woman's arm like an old newspaper, the toddler squealed with delight.
"I need you to get her to the car," Tara instructed, tossing empty blood bottles in the bag. There was one item she'd yet to find. "If I'm not down in two minutes, leave without me."
Pam eyed the giggling toddler with ill concealed revulsion before vanishing.
Catching a glimpse of a cracked mobile phone on the floor beneath a brutalized teddy bear, Tara knew she had all she needed.
"Met's here. We need another way out," Pam complained, as she abruptly reentered the flat.
"Shit," Tara breathed. Looking to her maker for suggestions, she spied her staring at the gaping hole in the broken window.
"Oh no. Not gonna happen. "
"Do you remember what I taught you," Pam asked, walking toward her lover.
"I seem to have forgotten. You know, on account of splittin' my skull open," Tara replied tetchily as she remembered her last disastrous flying session. The headstrong woman had defied a great deal in her short life, but she'd come to the conclusion that gravity wasn't going to be added to that list.
Pam, on the other hand, was determined to get her progeny airborne. Passed down from the ancient forbearer of their bloodline, flying was a skill very few vampires possessed. In fact, most never even knew it to be possible. Though Tara was barely more than a baby vamp, Pam had expected the prodigious vampire to take to flight as she'd taken to all other aspects of their kind. Yet even basic gravity suspension lessons tended to leave Tara flat on her ass.
A knock at the door reminded Pam of their current predicament.
"Take the girl and go, I'll deal with the cops," Tara said steadfastly as the deep voice of a female officer called into the flat through the cracked door.
With the quirk of a brow and the flick of a wrist, Pam sent the toddler in her arms careening out the wide-open window and into the air like a pink bottle rocket.
Tara was in the air in an instant, wavering clumsily in the air as the girl continued to shoot ahead of her. Grumbling profanities as she struggled to pull up and keep a straight path, her eyes narrowed robotically on the pink clad blur jetting across the sky. Dramatically picking up speed, she swooped upward to intercept the girl's trajectory.
"Fuckin' A," Tara exclaimed as she caught the thirty-pound projectile in her arms and nearly fell out of the sky from the impact. Jason Stackhouse couldn't have done better in his prime. Tara issued a silent thank you to the human as she remembered how the former star quarterback patiently taught her how to catch when they were children growing up in small town Louisiana. Back then he'd been the only boy in Bon Temps to give her the time of day.
"Whatever you do, don't look down," Pam warned playfully, appearing suddenly to hover in front of her progeny.
Tara thought she looked like a giant tinker bell when she flew, only slightly more devious and much better dressed. "I'm gonna get you for that," She vowed.
"Catch me if you can," Pam teased as she snatched the toddler from Tara's grasp and took off like a light. She was certain her lover wouldn't catch her, but thought it fair to at least attempt to make flight easier for the beginner.
Try as she might, Tara couldn't begin to keep pace with the older vampire. Feeling more and more confident in her ability to look down without mimicking an old Warner Brother's cartoon, she gave up chase and tentatively took in the spectacular sights around her.
Having lived in London for the better part of eighteen years, Tara thought she knew the town inside out. But as she glided above familiar landmarks, it seemed as though a secret world had been revealed to her. She nearly flew past her own home, so enthralled was she with the sky above the city. The sound of her maker's voice and loud toddler blather brought her back to earth.
Setting down in the private communal garden of her Mayfair home, Tara was shocked to see Pam and the baby vamp sitting and chatting together on the backdoor steps like old mates.
"You made daddy go bye bye," Pam asked, repeating the toddler's words with feigned incredulity that made the girl laugh wildly. "Is that so?"
"Pam," Tara called out in a voice that made Pam feel like she was her progeny's progeny. "We need to keep this quiet," She continued, striding over to the unlikely conversationalists.
"She brought it up," Pam defended as she stood to tower over the baby vamp.
"Then change the subject," Tara chastised, scooping the toddler up into her arms. "Last thing I need is a three year old confessing to manslaughter."
"Spoilsport," Pam shot back childishly, her right hand dramatically moving to her hip.
"Spoilspot," Mimicked the toddler in her own special brand of English.
Tara looked from the impressionable child in her arms to the smug looking woman standing in front of her.
"You need to be careful what you say around her," Tara warned as she brushed the girls kinky blond curls away from her gold-flecked green eyes and made a mental note to braid it. "They're like sponges at this age."
"…Only less useful and you can't toss 'em in the trash when they get filthy," Pam added sardonically.
It was then that an upbeat male voice called out from across the garden.
"Evening!"
Tara waved to their neighbor politely, all the while hoping he'd keep his distance. She harbored no ill sentiment for the human, who'd been the only one in the area to welcome them to their home when they first moved in, but small talk wasn't exactly high on her list of priorities.
Before she could bid the sociable man goodnight, he was crossing the garden to make small talk.
"Getting in a bit of fresh air before dawn?"
"Something like that," Pam answered, smiling falsely. "And to what do we owe the pleasure?"
"Oh, the ole ball and chain," The older looking man said, smiling ruefully as he gestured to a pack of cigarette's in his shirt pocket. "Doesn't want to watch me smoke myself to death. Not that she'd have to worry about that if I was turned, mind you."
"I'm sure she just wants what's best for you," Tara offered, detecting bitterness in the human's voice.
"Yeah well, enough about me. Who's the cutie?"
Pam watched Tara intently as the normally quick thinking vampire racked her brain for an answer.
"She's our, uh…"
"Erica," Pam answered simply. She didn't bother to check for Tara's reaction, as she was sure she would be met with a frown.
"Nice to meet you, Erica. My name's Winston."
Tara watched nervously as the human reached over to shake the little girl's hand. She thought for sure the baby vamp would move to bite him. But instead she giggled and hid her face for an impromptu game of peek-a-boo.
"I had no idea you two were starting a family," Winston remarked delightedly.
"Neither did I," Pam admitted resentfully, spurring the human to laugh at what he thought was a joke.
"We weren't expecting things to happen so fast," Tara lied, ignoring the dirty look her partner was now giving her.
"Well congratulations. She's a doll, "Winston complimented in between making silly faces at the girl. "Even looks like she could be yours…you know, if that sort of thing were possible for…you know," He finished uncomfortably.
"Thanks," Tara drawled into the awkward silence.
"I'll leave you ladies to it, then."
With a final wave to the toddler, Winston headed back across the garden to his townhouse.
"Erica," Tara exclaimed as she and Pam crossed the threshold into their kitchen.
"I think it's got a nice ring to it," Pam replied casually, knowing she was riling he partner up and loving every moment of it.
"She has a name," Tara countered, setting the oblivious baby vamp down onto a glossy red enameled lava countertop. No way was their fake child going to be called Erica.
"A name that could link her to her dead father, which reminds me," Pam replied, turning brusquely to face her progeny. "We need to find her mother."
"Her mother's locked up," Tara explained as she pulled a twisted spoon of the child's insanely firm grip. Even if she wasn't, she had doubts the human could take care of the baby vampire on her own.
"Her maker-"
"Never wanted anything to do with her in the first place. We're all she's got right now," Tara cut in, her girlishly wide eyes taking on the hue of fire steel as she prepared to set the last of her lover's reservations ablaze.
Pam fixed the younger woman with a cool look of unadulterated indifference.
With better than usual timing, Ginger, the beleaguered bottle blond from Bossier Parish, appeared in the kitchen doorway and inadvertently put an end to the silent showdown. The human was in her fifties now, yet remarkably well preserved. No one could say for certain, but the copious amounts of vampire blood she consumed in her younger years seemed to stay the hands of time.
Years prior when willing donors became scarce after a rash of vampire attacks in London, Pam sent for the human to be a wet nurse of sorts to her baby vampire. She could have found another woman for the job, but she doubted any would be as loyal and reliable as Ginger. And though she would never admit it, Pam found it comforting to have another familiar face from Louisiana around.
"Am I interruptin'," Ginger asked warily, sensing the tension in the room.
"Yes."
"No!"
Looking more confused than usual, the human quickly excused herself.
"Well, I'll just head on back downstairs…"
"Great. Take the ankle biter with you," Pam directed, nodding in the direction of the toddler. Her eyes stayed fixed on Tara, whose expression immediately turned to concern.
"Come with me, lil' missy," Ginger cooed as she approached the baby vamp. "What's her name," She asked no one in particular just before she began to introduce herself to the girl.
"Erica."
"Beyoncé."
Nodding as though she'd been tasked with taking a calculus test, Ginger picked the shy toddler up and headed toward the basement.
"Don't you worry, Erica Beyoncé, Miss Ginger's gonna take good care a' you."
"You sure that's a good idea," Tara asked, mindful of the fact that the seemingly harmless girl had accidentally killed her own father just a few hours prior.
Pam nodded faintly. The human may have forgotten her own surname, but she knew vampires and how to please them. If any human could handle putting the pint-sized baby vamp to bed, it was Ginger.
With the baby vamp finally out of harm's way, Tara allowed herself a moment to relax. Hopping up to sit on the kitchen island, she turned to find her maker looking none too pleased.
"C'mere," Tara beckoned. Receiving nothing more than a petulant look in response, she reached for Pam's hand and gently drew her across the short distance separating them. "What do you think I should do?"
Pam knew just as well as Tara that the higher-ups at HMAL would disavow their involvement with Moses and his daughter in order to spare themselves bad publicity. She also knew they'd just as soon turn the child over to human authorities to stay in good public standing.
"You want my advice," Pam questioned in her sultry southern timbre. "I think you should go to tell those mainstreaming hypocunts at that bureaucratic armpit you call a job to go stake themselves."
"In this fucked up economy," Tara quipped, pausing to teasingly capture the kissable lips a breath away from her own. "With a baby vamp to look after," She continued after what seemed like minutes, breaking contact with her lover so suddenly that she moaned in protest. Enjoying a little pay back from Pam's earlier antics, Tara smirked at the look of irritation that appeared on her perfectly made-up face.
"Stop talking," Pam commanded, not wanting mention of the toddler to kill the mood. Bad enough she could hear her running around the house like a demented forest elf. In her sexual and emotional frustration, she tore Tara's black tank clean down the middle and crashed their lips together.
Tara groaned, tasting blood in her mouth. Whether it was hers or Pam's, she couldn't be certain.
And that was when they both heard the screaming, like a banshee only louder and more shrill.
Ginger
Breaking away from their embrace, the amorous couple turned to see their temporary ward standing near the kitchen entryway holding a big-ass pink bunny where it's left ear had been torn off. It was the very same bunny Tara had given Pam on their first date to the Louisiana State Fair.
Pam's brow rose treacherously at the sight.
"I'll go check on Ginger," Tara said hurriedly before hopping off the counter and zooming out of the room.
Ambling over to the smiling toddler, Pam stooped down to her level and fixed her with a look that could make a grown man quivver.
"If this is going to work," She began, her tone low and her words deliberate. "We're going to have to establish a few ground rules. Rule one: No one touches my sh-"
Before she could finish, the baby vamp mumbled some gibberish and chuckled in Pam's face. She then turned and teetered away like a tiny drunk, dragging her damaged pink bunny along the floor.
This was going to be much tougher than she thought.
So I said to myself when I thought of this, "If there's one thing I hate, it's fics with kids…" and then I proceeded to write one myself. Oh well. So what do you guys think of bb Beyoncé….or Erica...or (insert your name choice here)? Any suggestions? Do you want your own toddler vamp or do you just want her gone? Ya'll know I'm allergic to multi chaps but I'll continue if the demand is there.
