Part 2 will be up soon! I had to cut this one up because it's too big (around 20k in all).

Headcanoned with and beta-ed by graceonce

And Every Demon Wants His Pound of Flesh

The bump was new, almost impossible to notice, but she had. It was her body after all. She passed her hand over her previously flat stomach, fingernails raking at tender skin, a small frown overtaking her as she shifted her gaze from her navel to the mirror and back. She would have been lying to herself if she'd said it wasn't worrying her, this slight bump over her abdomen. She'd wondered if she was gaining weight for a few days, which could have been utterly natural with the stress and her age, no matter how hard she tried to make herself believe she wasn't getting older, but the scale showed the same number every morning, give or take a few grams. She'd wondered if something was broken inside of her, an inflamed appendix, kidney, something not completely right between her ribcage and her pelvis, but she was fine, too healthy, almost.

She'd even thought of menopause.

The last possibility as to the sudden change in her body made her blood freeze within her veins, made her fingers tremble, made her want to throw up in the toilet at the thought of suddenly carrying a life within her, though she didn't want to vomit. It would make it so much more real.

She'd flipped through her calendar with angry tugs, ripping through half of November as she searched the dates she'd written down from when her husband had been alive, from when they had last made love, last tried to have a child. It didn't match up. He was dead and he was gone and there was no way she was pregnant. He had been the last person she had laid down with, the last one who had spilled his seed within her, and she cried at the simple thought of something happening without her knowledge, though she recollected every waking moment. It was impossible.

She tied a cardigan around her waist loosely that morning. She wasn't showing, whatever it was that was plaguing her, but there was a constant nagging in the back of her mind that she was, and she kept her arms crossed over her chest, her posture set, breathing tight. If her council, her students, noticed her change in demeanor, her light frown, they said nothing.

She woke before dawn the next day, oddly calm as she turned to hang over the side of her bed and vomited onto the white floorboards, and she paused there for the longest time, the sun raising outside as she watched her own insides.
Cordelia Goode, headmistress, Supreme, widow, was pregnant.

OOOoooOOO

She wanted to talk, she was used to talking when she needed to, when she had to get something off her chest. She was used to sitting down with a cup of tea and pouring her heart out until something made sense. And lately nothing made sense. But her mother was gone, Myrtle in ashes, Misty tossed through harsh winds. Nan laid in the ground, six feet under, and even though she could have easily brought Madison Montgomery back from her black hole after finding her decomposing body, Spalding's ghost whispering in her ear, she hadn't. The girl had been too tortured in life, there was no reason to give her anything but a peaceful rest in the afterlife.

Her soul had given birth to yellow roses in the backyard, surrounded by Myrtle's lilies and Misty's pansies.

She missed her girls, even though they were by her side, the ones that were left. She missed Zoe and Queenie being so deliriously young, so naive and deceptively harmless. Now they were bulldogs, protecting both her and the Coven, the new bodies that inhabited the old academy. Bulldogs that she wished still had time to sit down and chat more often than they did now.

She spied Zoe sitting inside her room, scribbling quickly in one of her class binders, and knocked lightly on the door. The girl's head snapped up and she grinned, motioning her in with a brisk wave of her hand. The Supreme sat on her bed, crossing her legs beneath her floral printed skirt.

"What's up?" Zoe asked, turning in her chair.

"How are you?"

"Me?" The black widow gazed back, light surprise tainting her hazel eyes, but she finally shrugged. "I'm fine."

"And Kyle?"

"He's good, very thankful. Or are you asking if our relationship is doing well?"

"I meant him." Cordelia smiled, but sobered quickly. "Is he still walking around at night?"

"No, he's settled down since the new girls came in. He scared too many while they got up to go the bathroom. That and he's afraid, he thinks something'll happen to me while he's away, though don't tell him I told you that," Zoe laughed. "Why?"

The Supreme shook her head. "I was just wondering."

Zoe sat up straight. "Miss Cordelia, are you okay? You're shaking."

"You know me, I drank too much coffee."

"You need sleep, not coffee, you know that."

Cordelia nodded. "I know." She scratched at her temple before laying her hand back in her lap to meet her other one. "Do you want to have dinner with me this weekend? I was going to ask Queenie too, right after. It's labor day so most of the girls will go home, we'll have time for ourselves."

Zoe smiled. "I'd love to. Is Kyle invited?"

The headmistress breathed out, nodding after a moment. "Of course."

OOOoooOOO

She'd bought three pregnancy tests, thrown them at the bottom of her purse as soon as she'd bought them, and hadn't looked at them until midnight struck and she was the last soul awake, even Kyle having gone back to his room. And the next morning she'd called the doctor's office.

She liked a fourth opinion.

How she had come to be three months along without noticing she didn't know.

The woman had told her it was normal she hadn't if she hadn't even thought of the possibility, and even though Cordelia's cheeks had burned as she'd blurted out that there was no father, the doctor had only smiled and written her in for the next appointment, unaware that inside, Cordelia screamed to know who was.

She could breathe a little, between Zoe keeping a tight eye on him and knowing his personality, there was no way Kyle was the father.

She hated herself for even thinking of it.

She was desperate.

She did her best to hide her morning sickness, closing her eyes and wishing as the dawn broke and as her insides covered her bathroom floor that no one could hear. Hoping that if they did, they thought she had the flu. Praying no one remembered one of the Supreme's cardinal rules. Perfect health.

She began hiding the fact that she didn't drink wine anymore. Steadily emptied the bottles into glasses and then into the sink, letting the purple rims hide her shame. The shame of not knowing.

And she hugged the tiniest girls to her in such a grip that they could only hold her back, let her get used to holding a child in her arms. She laughed when they giggled and played with her hair and she took longer to bid them goodnight. She wished she could read them bedtime stories but even they were a little old. She wondered if the child within her would want to be held, would want to play, would even like her. The possibility that she didn't bond with the infant was so very real to her, the women in her family had always had an issue bonding with their kids.

Sunday came quickly, and along with it the shaking in her fingers, shaking more than ever, more than when she had opened the academy to the world, and her knees trembled beneath her skirt and she prayed the fabric hid them. She prayed she wouldn't break down, her fingers tight around the tissues in her jacket's pocket.

She'd had a local restaurant cater to the academy, the girls and Kyle, knowing their tastes enough now to comfortably order for them, hand placed on her stomach as she twisted the phone's cord in between her free fingers, the phone in the crook of her neck and resting on her shoulder as she paced around the kitchen, feeling like a parody of a 90s sitcom. The episode in which the celibate is pregnant. How embarrassing. She figured she could have thrown her shoes off while she was at it.

Her council ate heartily, ignoring the fact that the Supreme only picked around her plate, though she thought she had heard Zoe's fleeting 'I should ask, but it's probably nerves'. She was suddenly craving pomegranate, and she itched to push her chair back and go to the kitchen, but she stayed herself and stopped from running away. She finally pressed her hand to the oaken table, staying her fluttering heart.

"Queenie, Zoe," Cordelia breathed in deeply, tightly, and the girls looked up, pausing their conversation. "Kyle. I'm pregnant."

The three in front of her froze, and Zoe's fingers began picking furiously at her armrest's fabric. She forced a smile, her inability to understand shining past the happiness the Supreme had expected from her. "Miss Cordelia, that's wonderful."

"IVF treatment?" Queenie asked, peering at her. Zoe deflated lightly, the words tumbling in her head thrown out of the older girl's mouth.

Cordelia swallowed lightly, turning away to look out the windows, wincing at the blinding sun. "Yes."

"Cordelia, why didn't you tell us before?" Zoe asked. "We could have gotten ready, made sure you had the proper diet and exercise, less stress-"

"Zoe, it's fine," the Supreme said quickly. "It-The doctor hadn't thought it would work, which is why I didn't tell you, I didn't want to bring your hopes up."

"You can't hide secrets from us, Miss Cordelia. That was the deal."

"This isn't Coven business," Cordelia replied forcefully. She passed the back of her hand across her forehead and sighed. "I'm sorry, girls, I'm just, this is weird for me too."

"How far along are you?" Kyle asked softly.

"Thirteen weeks."

Queenie frowned. "You are happy, right?"

"Yes, yes I am." The Supreme nodded, the lie burning into the back of her throat. "Again, I wasn't expecting it so, you know, my life is going to be thrown upside down, isn't it? Yours too."

"Anyone else know?"

"You're the first to find out," Cordelia said. She smiled a little sadly. "Who else would I have told?" She'd told Myrtle. Madison. Misty. Her mother. "No, keep it to yourselves until I can't hide it anymore."

"But why? Shouldn't this be a joyous occasion?" Kyle asked, cocking his head to the side, curls flowing around his face. "Shouldn't the Coven know?"

"Kyle." Zoe took his hand. "It's her decision."

"I don't understand."

Neither do we.

Cordelia shook her head, shaking it free of the flying thoughts, wondering why she could suddenly hear her girls' stereo hearts and blaming it on the pregnancy. "It's just a personal choice, I don't need anyone worrying about me, it's a child, not a disease. And I have perfect health, right?" She gave them a tight smile. "I'll be fine."

"Don't you want help?" Zoe asked softly. "You'll need aunts, an uncle." She shared a look with Queenie. "We want to be that for you."

"I'll be fine."

OOOoooOOO

As uncharacteristic as it was of her, she thought of abortion. Of adoption. She thought of any way she could possibly save the child without having to take care of the infant inside her.

She possibly couldn't.

For the longest time she had believed that a child would mend her own broken heart. She had thought giving birth to her own flesh and blood would have fixed the flesh and blood that was her mother. She thought that giving this toddler the childhood she had never had would make hers all the better.

She knew how life truly worked now.

She was too afraid to rear a child, too afraid to break it, hurt it, make it go through what she had gone through, and the fear much more outweighed the good. The Goode. The last year had proven it. She had lost too many of her children already, she would have no more. Life came in and ripped the infant from your arms and didn't look back. She didn't want any of it.

She raised her shirt and passed her hand over her stomach, watching her nails make light marks that disappeared quickly, a light scowl on her face.

Her head snapped up when her study's door was knocked on, and she stood to go open it, floorboards creaking beneath her careful steps. "Kyle?" There was no answer and she turned the doorknob, and stared into blood red eyes.

She backed up quickly, her own gaze snapping shut when she hit her desk and braced herself against it, knuckles white.

The demon standing outside came in, strolling. "Abortion, Cordelia Goode?" Papa Legba tsked, smiling. "No, no, no. That will not do."

The Supreme breathed out shakily.

"You will keep it," he rumbled.

She paused, biting the inside of her cheek. "I didn't think you'd suddenly care about my fate."

"Why should I not? It is my gift to you, Supreme."

She stared back, black eyes narrowed as her hand flew to her stomach, gripping there almost protectively. "Your gift?"

"I can read your eyes if not your mind," the loa smiled. "I did not do what you may think, I never visited you in the middle of the cold night." He let his blood red eyes rake over her. "Not that one would not." He shook his head. "No, I only visited your dreams."

She bristled lightly, backing up until her lower back hit the edge of her desk.
Her voice wavered, threatening to break. "What have you done?" she asked. "What did you do?"

He raised his cane until he could prod it into her abdomen, the end twisting painfully until she could do nothing but gasp and push it away, and he grinned. "The boy growing inside you, is mine."

"No."

He shrugged lightly. "Only the truth."

Tears pricked at the back of her eyes and she fought to stop herself, but they fell down her cheeks angrily a moment later as she tightened her grip on her shirt. "Were you ever going to tell me?"

"When the time came, when you found out you carried. I love surprises." He looked her over. "You wonder why, you need not speak," he hissed out, voice deceptively smooth. "I am a generous man, but even a generous man needs compensation for what he has offered and done and given."

"I haven't summoned you, I never asked you for anything, and certainly not this!" she cried back. "If I once wanted a child, that time is over with. I have never spoken your name."

"Oh, you mistake me," he smiled, pressing his hand to his chest. "The child I have given you is not that you wished for so many nights, it is your payment." He raised his shoulders. "Think upon this, it is a blessing. You may raise him, a child of the divine."

"Payment for what?" she begged.

"Oh, have I not said?" he mused. The demon paced around the office, his gaze flitting from book to object to file cabinet, only to land back on the Supreme. "You'll know soon enough."

"Papa, sir-" Cordelia winced at the desperation in her voice. "Please, I don't want this, I can't have this, this baby, I can't take care of it-"

"Him."

"Him, I can't take care of him, I'm not equipped to, I'm not ready!"

"You are plenty ready, Supreme." He watched her carefully, amused. "You were ready before, when the fox ran the earth."

"I had next to no duties then," she bit back. "I was stupid then," she added.

"You wound me and my decision."

She reached for him, failing to grasp at his jackets. "Please-"

"Do not worry, Cordelia Goode. You will have help, in a form or another." He paused to scratch at the side of his nose with a sharp fingernail. "No, keep the boy. If you do not, well," he grinned. "Really, you do not want to know what would happen."

"Is that a threat?"

"One even a Supreme would believe," he answered easily. He began to walk towards the door, reaching out for the handle. "I will come when he is born, not before. Treat your body well." He paused. "Oh, I almost forgot."

Cordelia looked up, wiping at her tears.

"Your mother misses you."

OOOoooOOO

"Your child is perfectly healthy, Miss Goode."

"Are you sure? I'm not talking about your ability to do your job, of course, I just-"

"Worry?" the doctor finished for her. Blue gloves were removed and the woman sat down in her chair, motioning for the Supreme to sit up. "There's nothing to worry about, unless you have something to tell me. No, Miss Goode, perfectly healthy, I think it takes that from you."

"He."

The doctor smiled, amused. "If you say so."

Cordelia nodded softly, pulling her shirt down but keeping her hand against the hem.

"Why are you here, Miss Goode? Your appointment is next week, did something happen?" the woman asked. "I like honesty from all my moms-to-be, I can't help unless you're honest with me."

"Nothing happened, I just," Cordelia breathed in and braved a smile, shrugging lightly. "Stress, that's all it is."

"Well stop stressing, it's no good for the baby."

"Easier to say than do," the Supreme murmured.

"Is this about the father?" the doctor prodded. Cordelia's black eyes met hers and she raised her shoulders. "I took the liberty of going through your entry file. You were here almost two years ago, but hadn't been inseminated successfully. Hank Foxx was the donor then. Is this about him?"

"He's not the father."

"Biologically, or psychologically?"

"He's not the father," Cordelia repeated.

"Look, Cordelia, if I may?" The woman came to stand in front of the blonde, and reached for her hand. "Sometimes it can be hard, and I can't say I understand the situation that you're in, whichever situation that is, but think of the child growing inside of you, if nothing else. Whatever choice you may take in the next crucial weeks." The phrase 'twenty weeks' rung in Cordelia's head, echoes from the doctor's own thoughts. "If you keep this child-"

"I'm keeping him."

"If you're keeping this child," she started again. "Be kind to yourself. I beg of you."

Cordelia nodded, turning away as tears began to roll down her cheeks.

OOOoooOOO

It wasn't possible that the child was kicking. It had no feet to do that with, Cordelia reminded herself, and yet she couldn't help the phantom pains that plagued her during the day and lulled her to sleep at night. Results of stress, Zoe would say, if she'd dared to tell her. You're obviously worried, Queenie would add. It's normal.

She wondered if Mary had told herself it was normal.

She'd skipped lunch, feeling too sick and too helpless to eat properly with the students now upstairs in the dining room, and instead stood in her greenhouse, mulling over her doctor's words as she looked around the room.

She'd expanded the basement since becoming Supreme, when she'd added herbology to the classes required, and there was now enough place for her to move around comfortably when her students worked by her side, buzzing like little ants. She didn't want to tread on them, and so she'd pushed the boundaries of her hill.

She moved around the room, brushing the pads of her fingers over her girls' projects, breathing life into the ones that faltered lightly under their care, and they breathed back their appreciation. She almost wanted to breathe down at herself. She would look ridiculous.

The Supreme finally sighed, pushing past a pot that had flourished under the care of a gifted thirteen year old, and reached for her own plant, the ends in flowers, and snipped one off. She began to crush it in the palm of her hand as she walked back to the island, and delicately placed it into a mortar, reaching for the pestle to finish the grinding.

A kettle was already on the fire in the corner, the water inside whistling out in harsh steam, and she reached over to turn it off, listening to it bubble inside its metal prison before she poured it into her favorite tea mug. The flower went in next. It floated for a moment before suddenly dissolving into blues and purples, and she sighed shortly as she reached for the sugar she'd brought down.

It worked like advil, this plant she'd mutated, but was safer, none of her girls who'd used it for their abdominal pains had ever complained of side effects.

As an after-thought, she reached for the valerian plant she kept in the upper shelves , she needed to sleep. She didn't want dreams and she didn't want stress. She just wanted to close her eyes and not wake up again until the sun shone bright. She wanted to salivate at the thought.

Wincing at yet another phantom pain, she didn't wait until the tea had cooled before she downed it.

OOOoooOOO

She woke and sighed, strong arms and an earthy aroma enveloping her, encircling her in a vice-like grip. She burrowed back into the warm body, mind registering that her dreams were much more real than they usually were, but that was nothing new, ghostly touches were nothing new. Frequent, almost. She knew she'd properly wake minutes from now, alone and cold, but she fought to stay in the realm of sleep, fought to keep the arms around her.

Her hair was moved to the side, falling from her shoulder and back onto the pillow, and she let out another sigh, burying her face into her sheets. The touch was too real. She figured the soft fingers belonged to one of the younger girls, that one of them had snuck into her room with the storm the night before. She'd told them often enough her door was always open, it wasn't rare that she was visited.

She breathed in sharply, fingers reaching down her body to tangle with the ones against her stomach, whoever's hand having paused there unknowingly cupping the child within her, and she pushed lightly, suddenly uncomfortable.

"Cordelia," the voice was soft, sleep-laden, and the Supreme blinked in the hazy sunlight, waiting. It came again, drawled out with a pinch of annoyance at the sudden morning. "Stop movin'."

The Supreme softened, and she closed her black eyes, chasing the last bit of dreams. "I'm awake, you have to go. That's how it works. You can't stay when I'm awake."

"Then send me away."

Cordelia laughed lightly, the fingers previously raking at her abdomen now against her ribs, tugging her closer to the ghost behind her.

"I don't want to go," the voice began again. "I don't think I will."

The alchemist suddenly grew annoyed, finding the torture cruel of the woman holding her to administer, and she began to turn in her bed, knowing from every previous encounter that when she did, Misty Day disappeared, her mind having dreamt her.

She gazed into sunkissed curls, the girl's ivory skin almost glowing in the sunlight, her eyes closed as if death had welcomed her, but her chest lifted in and out with life and her eyelids fluttered and Cordelia was crying at the injustice of seeing her, of feeling her warm breath against her hand as she lifted it to cup the girl's face.

Misty turned into her touch, smiling lazily when Cordelia breathed out shakily.

"Is this hell?"

"It'd be rather nice for hell, dont'cha think?" the wild blonde whispered back.

"No, it's not."

"Then heaven. I'm dead, aren't I."

Misty cracked an eye open. "You're not dead. I'm alive."

Cordelia was sobbing uncontrollably and the necromancer was watching her, still as the Supreme shook against her and turned to lay on her back, gazing up at the ceiling as her tears fell down her face and dotted the pillow.

Misty reached up and wiped them away with her thumb, the pads of her fingers. "God, I hate it when ya cry."

"You're not real. I hate nightmares," Cordelia whimpered out. "It's unfair."

"I'm no nightmare, Miss Delia."

"You fell apart in my arms and I called you back but you still fell apart and I had to watch Zoe gather your pieces. Your pieces, Misty."

The necromancer watched her, unable to find words to give her. "I am back," she replied weakly. "I wish you'd believe me." She shook her head, curls flying. "And I don't know why because I was somewhere dark and crowded and I can't explain it but I'm not there anymore, Delia, I'm here. And if you're dead, then so am I."

"Papa took you."

"I know."

"Papa Legba," Cordelia breathed back, chest evening out.

"I-" Misty frowned. "Yeah."

The Supreme pulled the girl's hand to her, her free fingers pulling at the hem of her shirt until she'd brought it up over her ribs, and she placed the necromancer's hand against her stomach, Misty's blue-green eyes wide and watching her with a mix of curiosity and fear as she did, and she upturned her black gaze to peer at the necromancer, tears free-falling silently.

"Payment."

Misty went to retract her hand but Cordelia pulled her back.

"I don't understand," the necromancer said softly.

"I wished for you, Misty, I wished that you had another chance and that I hadn't failed you," Cordelia murmured. "You're here because he's-" she pressed the girl's hand against her. "-in here."

"Miss Delia, are ya-" the necromancer pulled away and she sat up, chest heaving erratically. "Please explain before I forget to breathe."

The Supreme followed her up, pressing her forehead to the girl's strong shoulder as she wiped at her cheeks. "I'm pregnant, Misty."

"Jesus."

"Because of you."

The wild blonde turned suddenly, gazing her down, her voice wavering with light humor as she tried to dissipate both her anxiousness and the Supreme's. "I don't know much 'bout no biology, but I'm pretty sure that can't happen."

"No, no I mean-" Cordelia took a deep breath, organizing her muddled thoughts for the longest time before she tried again. "Papa visited me, he, he put this child inside me, this boy, saying I was to raise him as payment. I thought, I didn't know what he meant, payment for what?"

"Ya-" she paused. "Ya and Papa-?"

"No, no, Misty no."

"But it's his."

Cordelia bit her lower lip, closing her black eyes, and she nodded. "It was payment for you. I wished for you, I wished you out of hell, and you're here."

"That sounds like a lot to pay for me, a kid?"

"I can't say I wasn't surprised, scared. I didn't summon him, Misty," Cordelia admitted, voice breaking. "I never thought to. I still am scared. But now it makes sense, all of this."

"Cordelia?"

The Supreme looked up into teary blue-green eyes, and she nodded softly, asking the girl to go on.

"Can we talk about this later? I'd just like to sleep."