Saturday's Child
Chapter Two
Author's Note: The Angel episode Billy is referenced here. For those who haven't seen it, Billy Blim is a half-demon who could infect others with serious misogyny. This was done to Wesley.
…
Buffy watched from the passenger seat of the DeSoto as Spike drove, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel while singing along to Hotel California. She wasn't sure if his choice of music had been a subconscious decision or sheer coincidence. She was pretty sure it wasn't deliberate, though. Even with the soul, passive-aggression really wasn't his thing. He was more about the aggressive-aggression.
The song ended, and Spike glanced at her for a moment before looking back towards the road. "I don't want him to know," he said abruptly. No need to ask who "him" was.
"About the soul or…." She looked down at his midsection even though there was no visible proof yet of the ritual they'd done nearly two weeks ago.
She didn't know if it was because they'd been the ones actively performing the ritual or if it was all because they'd both been willing participants, but it had been different this time. She'd still been aggressively sexual, but it hadn't taken her over to the point where she had no real control over her actions. She'd been able to recognize Spike as Spike, as her partner in what they'd chosen to do, and not just some kind of… of object she had to possess and use.
The first time had been horrible and ugly. When it had been retriggered to free them from Willow's spell, a lot of that ugliness had remained, even if they had consented to it and had turned things around. This time though…. They'd had the house to themselves, Mom and Thursday staying the night with Giles while Dawn had gone to a sleepover at Janice's. There had been candles everywhere and music on her stereo to set the mood as they'd chanted the words of the ritual together. And then… then there hadn't been any ugliness at all, just something beautiful.
And now they had baby number two on the way, and that was also a beautiful thing, in all kinds of ways. She could kind of understand those guys who liked to keep their girlfriends or wives barefoot and pregnant all the time. Well, not the barefoot part, 'cause shoes were awesome, but the pregnant? Oh yeah. It was a major turn on, snuggling up to someone you loved with your hand on their belly, able to feel your kid tucked away safe in there.
"Oi, Slayer! Eyes are up here, pet," Spike said dryly, cutting into her thoughts.
Buffy felt her cheeks heat with embarrassment even though Spike was her boyfriend, darn it, and the father of her child. Children. She had every right to ogle him while fantasizing about how sexy he'd be with a baby bump. The laughter in his eyes as he glanced at her confirmed that he agreed with her on that. Then his expression turned serious again.
"The soul, mainly," he said quietly. "Though I'd like to keep the sprog under wraps, too, if possible. Not ashamed of either, or anything, mind, it's just…." He trailed off and shrugged uncomfortably. "Angel's a tendency to make everything all about Angel, even when it's got sod all to do with the self-centered wanker." He glanced back at her before focusing on the road again. "Sorry, shouldn't say –"
"Spike, don't…." Even before the tiny little flinch and the way his hands tightened on the steering wheel, Buffy knew that was the wrong way to start what she wanted to say.
Of course he was going to assume she was getting onto him about the comment about Angel. Smacking him upside the head and calling him a dope like she wanted wasn't going to fix things. Actually, if they'd been at home, she might have done it anyway, leading to some kinky sex as they talked things out. But they were on the road with a baby in the backseat. Hitting the driver upside the head, no matter how justified, was very much not a good idea. So instead, she reached into her purse and pulled out a small stick with feathers at the end.
He looked away from the road again and started to say something before he saw the stick. He closed his mouth, jaw clenching tight as he glared at it in mute anger. She bopped him on the nose with it, knowing it was stupid but unable to resist. He growled at her, which wasn't breaking the rules since it wasn't speech.
"I've got the talking stick, so me talky, you listeny…. And drivey," she added as he glanced back at the road just in time to swerve around a chunk of tire left behind by a semi. The accompanying swearing did technically break the rules, but she wasn't going to call him on it since it was more or less unrelated. "What I was trying to say is, don't apologize."
He stared at her incredulously until she bopped him again and used the talking stick to point at the windshield. "Eyes on the road, buster." She was quiet for a moment as she toyed with the feathers. Then she sighed. "If it was just about me, I'd be pissed, but you and Angel have a history from, like, way before I was even born. If I got mad about that, then I'd be the one making everything about me, you know?"
It still majorly pissed her off, thinking of how Riley and Angel had reacted to each other. If Spike got like that… well, she'd still yell at him and probably hit him a bit, but it would at least make some kind of sense. Spike was used to the idea of Angel taking people from him. Riley, though? He'd just decided, for absolutely no reason, that she must have cheated on him. That she was the kind of person who would not only do that, but would endanger her loved ones and countless innocent strangers just for some nookie with her ex.
"Ahem?"
Buffy blinked and looked up at Spike. He glanced at the stick in her hand, then lifted a brow in a silent question. Oh, right. She still had the talking stick. She fiddled with it for a moment, packing away the thoughts about Riley. He was gone and not a part of her life anymore.
"I'm not going to ask you to just stand there and take whatever Angel dishes out. I'd appreciate it if you didn't start anything, but if he does..." She put the stick down. "You bloody well end it, okay?"
His expression looked like it couldn't quite decide between being touched by what she'd said or amused by the words she'd used to say it. Finally, though, he just grinned and saluted. "Whatever you say, love. You're the boss."
Buffy smiled and settled more comfortably into her seat. "Damn straight."
Actually, Spike was kind of the boss right now, though they were both happier with her having the official title. Things had been pretty rough when he'd been carrying Thursday, to the point where Buffy was sure they would have lost her if she hadn't been a slayer/vampire hybrid. She'd gotten to pamper Spike during the first week for this second baby. No getting his head bashed in, no malnutrition, and the only chains had been part of sexy fun times instead of a way to keep him prisoner while he was forced to carry her child.
She wanted to keep doing right by him during this, and that meant keeping him as happy and stress-free as she could. Which… didn't really go along with helping Angel. If there wasn't a kid involved, she thought glumly. There was, though. A kid that could be evil incarnate or completely innocent. They'd do what they could to help, despite all the baggage they both had when it came to Angel. If he couldn't play nice and ended up causing Spike too much stress…. Well, Angel would just have to deal with it all himself, wouldn't he?
…
...
Wesley watched as Angel restlessly paced the lobby. The vampire with a soul's hair was a disheveled mess from running his hands through it, and he didn't seem to be dealing at all well with the situation. Not that Wesley could really blame the man. Finding out you were about to be a father would be quite a lot to process even in normal circumstances and these circumstances were far from normal.
The bearer – in more ways than one – of that particular news was still sat upon the circular couch with Cordelia and Fred in close attendance. Fred…. Wesley's throat closed for a moment as he watched her murmuring to Darla. They'd been able to work together with no real issue, but some of the closeness they'd once had was gone, shattered by his words and deeds while under the influence of Billy Blim.
She didn't blame him for any of it, of course, the dear, sweet girl, but that didn't change how he felt. He'd belittled her, said the most atrocious things, and had tried to kill her. How could he ever tell her he loved her after that? How could he trust himself around her?
"Wes," Angel snapped, drawing him out of his thoughts. "How much longer until your expert on demon pregnancies shows up?"
"Ah, well, not demon pregnancies, per se," he prevaricated. He should have just gone with his first thought of taking Darla to sing for Lorne. It had been bad enough when he'd thought it would just be Buffy, but when she'd called back to tell him she'd be bringing Spike along…. Well, she was absolutely correct about him being more of an authority on the subject, but it seemed like adding both a spark and several gallons of petrol to the proverbial powder keg. "Just vampire. And, ah, the term 'expert' might be stretching things somewhat."
"Then why the hell have we been just standing around here for over two hou-"
"Whoa, whoa, hold the phone," Gunn cut in, pushing away from the wall he'd been leaning against. "Are you telling me there've been other vampire pregnancies?"
"Just one as far as I know," Angel said with a frown.
"Oh, my god, you got another vampire pregnant and didn't tell us about it?" Cordelia stood up and stalked towards Angel. "What the hell is wrong with you?"
"What? No, I did not get him preg-"
"Did you just say him? You got a dude pregnant?" Gunn jumped away from Angel with a speed that was rather amusing. He held up his hands at Angel's annoyed look and backed up another step. "Your preferences are your own business, man, but keep your swimmers the hell away from me."
"If you'd all just calm down for a moment," Wesley began. But of course, no one was paying attention.
"I didn't get anyone pregnant!" Angel shouted, drowning out Wesley's attempt to explain.
"Oh, I seriously beg to differ there," Darla said, struggling up to her feet.
"Here, now, you need to be careful," Fred said, giving her a hand up.
"We don't even know for sure that's mine!"
"Oh, is that what you tried to tell the poor guy you knocked up? Nice line, Angel," Cordelia said sarcastically, hands on her hips.
Perhaps I should hide under my desk until they've all got it out of their systems? Wesley thought with a sigh. This was not going well.
"Damn it, I didn't get Spike pregnant! That was –"
"What's with all the shouting?" a voice asked.
And there she was. Buffy Summers, the active Slayer, standing in the doorway with a couple of bags in each hand and a purse slung over her shoulder. Everything seemed to freeze for a moment as Angel stared at her.
"Buffy," he said quietly, longing and pain in his voice.
"Angel."
Like his, her voice was quiet, but her tone was hard and wary. Angel didn't seem to notice as he slowly approached her. Then Spike walked in, baby carrier in one hand and the baby itself cuddled against his chest, and the powder keg went off.
