Friday's Child

Chapter Seven

Mine! The word reverberated through Buffy, more felt than thought as desire sizzled through every cell of her being. She couldn't think, only feel. Only be. Need thrummed through her, pushing and pulsing, driving her towards the one who belonged to her. She wanted. She would take, and she would have.

Sudden pain flared through her shoulders as she tried to get to him. The pain wasn't important. It was meaningless. What mattered was that something was stopping her. Chains. She was chained. She growled and strained against them, furious that she couldn't get to Spike. As she struggled and pulled against the restraints, she was vaguely aware of memories blossoming like a sun touched garden in her mind.

This had happened before. She'd felt like this before, and she'd forced herself on Spike. She couldn't do that to him again. She had to stop herself. She… she had to get to him. To touch him and feel him inside, proving he was hers as she satisfied the terrible need threatening to consume her.

It wouldn't be like last time. We both agreed to this, knowing what could happen, she thought fuzzily as she twisted around, hauling herself up just enough to press her feet against the wall. She pushed, using every ounce of strength in her powerful legs in an attempt to free herself. God, it felt good, pushing herself to the limit, not holding back.

She wouldn't hold back when she got to Spike. She'd pin him down beneath her and rake her nails along his skin the way she knew he liked. Hell, she'd slice up her own flesh, feed him her blood as she had her way with him. Part of her would be inside of him while he was in her. She just needed to get….

She fell to the ground as the metal spike holding the restraints to the wall suddenly snapped. She was free. She was up in an instant and darting towards Spike.

No! a horrified little voice called out in the back of her mind. Spike had nearly died last time. She knew how to take care of him now, knew how to get him through that first week that was so dangerous for vampires, but she wouldn't be able to do all that with what was happening in Sunnydale.

She could hear Tara chanting, which meant there was nothing the witch could do to stop her. If the chanting stopped, the ritual would go back to the state it had been in before. If that happened before the other spell they were under was completely broken, they'd have to start all over again.

"Buffy –" Spike's voice, her name a soft caress.

She grabbed him and slammed him against the wall, shutting him up with a searing kiss. Oh god, I have to stop, she thought as he tensed and started to struggle. Instead, she slid her hands under his shirt, stroking him, taking advantage of the fact that the ritual made him sensitive to her touch. He shuddered and leaned into her.

He was doing what he was supposed to do, submitting to her. God, he felt so good, cool skin like silk over toned, lean muscle. A work of art meant to be enjoyed with all the senses, and he was hers.

"'S okay, Slayer," he whispered. His eyes were dark with desire, his voice thick with it. Her fingers skimmed along a particularly sensitive spot and he moaned, arching against her. "Won't… try to fight you… this time," he panted. "Not your fault."

No. No, she wasn't going to do this again. Do what…? What was she doing? Her hands were at his belt, unbuckling it before moving on to his zipper. Too many clothes. She had to get rid of the clothes. No. Bad Buffy, the clothes had to stay. She had to stop this.

There had to be something she could do. Something…. She pushed his jeans down, the sounds he made as her hands caressed his hips and thighs making her ache. She needed him inside of her. Needed him now.

She remembered something he'd told her once about dominance and submission. While he preferred to submit to the women in his life, he was actually good at both, because when done right, both were about giving. Friday's child is loving and giving, the poem whispered through her mind. It really did fit him perfectly.

When you submitted, you gave yourself to your partner. When you dominated, you gave your partner what they needed. Spike had learned to do both at the same time and to….

"Switch," she whispered hoarsely as she pressed herself against him. They'd done that before. She remembered it now.

His eyes widened slightly, then narrowed. And then his hands were all over her, and his mouth was on hers, and she willingly surrendered herself to him. By the time the chanting stopped and Tara went down to the lower level, Buffy was too far gone into pleasure to even really notice.


...

It took several minutes of just basking in afterglow before Buffy could manage anything even vaguely resembling coherent thought. Even then, she was more grunty, possessive cave-Buffy than anything else. Cave-Buffy had pretty, snuggly man who knew how to please woman. Cave-Buffy was happy.

Spike nuzzled her hair before lightly nibbling on her ear, and she cuddled in closer to him with a sigh of contentment. She wanted to just stay like that forever, but the crypt floor wasn't the most comfortable place, and reality began to intrude. One – or possibly even both – of them might be pregnant, and – oh god! – Willow had imposed her will over Sunnydale. Buffy reluctantly sat up.

"Feelin' any urges to bash me upside the head if I so much as think of lightin' up a smoke?" Spike asked, following suit.

"Ah, no, not really," she mumbled with a wince. The brutal beat down after what the ritual had made her do wasn't something she liked to think about. She didn't like to think about any of it.

"Here now, none of that, love," he said gently, brushing a stray tear from her cheek. "Wasn't your fault, an' I shouldn't have teased about it."

"I hit you today." She'd been really good about that lately, only hitting him when he wanted her to.

"What, that little bop to the nose?" He snorted derisively, the corner of his mouth twitching up into a smirk. "Just how we say hello, innit?" He pulled her close and nuzzled her hair again. "You punch me, and I bitch about it, yeah?"

She wrapped her arms around him and leaned in close. "I like this way better."

"Me too," he murmured into her hair.

"What about you?" Buffy asked nervously after a moment. She probably hadn't gotten him pregnant, but what about her? The ritual had been reset with him in the role as the submissive partner, but she'd been the one to play it. Did that mean she was pregnant?

"Hmm?"

"Any punchy urges about me doing something that could harm a baby?" she clarified.

"Oh…." He was quiet for a moment. "No. Seems we confused the ritual right proper. Prob'ly in the clear, though it wouldn't hurt to ask Tara about it." He held her tighter and took a deep breath, probably for her scent. "S'pose it's for the best, really."

There was an odd tone to his voice, and Buffy pulled away so she could see his face. Wistful regret. Had he wanted another baby? Had she? She thought about that for a minute. Now really wasn't the best time, but….

"We could always do the ritual ourselves some day and have a baby on purpose," she pointed out. "If… if you wanted another one." Five chubby little daughters. He told me once he wanted five little girls when he was human.

"Do you want another?" he asked, not quite looking at her, as if trying not to influence her decision.

"I think so," she said slowly, mentally testing out the idea. Not five, that was way too many. But one or two more? She could handle that. Two or three total kids who would go on to have families of their own. Families that could keep Spike from getting too lonely after she died, whenever that was. Slayers weren't exactly known for their plentiful lifespans. "It'd have to be soon, I think."

He looked at her, head tilted slightly as he reached out to cup her cheek. She hadn't said anything, but he seemed to know. "Gonna live a good long time, Slayer-mine. You've love and support your sister-Slayers never got much of. Family and friends and a life beyond just fighting monsters. Even without all that, you're a hell of a woman," he said with a sincerity that touched her heart. He wasn't just saying things to make her feel better. He believed it. "You're right, though, needs to be soon. Any sprogs we have this way, they'll be half slayer, yeah? The closer they are in age, the better they'll be able to watch each other's backs."

Two – or possibly three – young slayers fighting side-by-side. She remembered the very brief experience of fighting with Kendra, and the somewhat longer one with Faith. The second slayer's betrayal still stung, even after all this time. She'd had someone at her side who'd completely understood a part of her that no one else could; not even Spike, though he came very close. She wanted that for Thursday.

"I think I could handle it," Spike said abruptly, "if you wanted to name the next sprog after your cousin. But… uh, there's this play, by Shakespeare, you know? Called 'As you Like It.' Girl in it name of Celia who called herself Aliena while she was in exile. It, uh, means sunray."

"I like it," she said with a smile. It was a pretty name, and it would work nicely as a tribute to her cousin without being an upsetting reminder of Cecily for Spike.

"Could even be you carrying the next sprog." He flashed her his sexiest smirk. "Get you in the right frame of mind beforehand, then give it a go with you feeling all submissive on me."

Her eyes narrowed. "I see what this is," she said in mock anger. "You don't want more kids, you just want a chance to keep the 'little woman' barefoot and pregnant."

He snorted, eyes gleaming with amusement. "Projecting, are we, Slayer? It's you has the fetish about me being bare-legged and preggers."

"Mmm…. Manskirt." Her eyes glazed a bit as she thought back to when he'd been pregnant with Thursday. A sexy kilt and an equally sexy baby bump. He'd worn the kilt for her several times after, but she had to admit the thought of him carrying their child was a major turn on. The thought of her doing it was probably just as much as a turn on for him. "Okay. When it's a better time, I'll do it."

"I'll take good care of you," he promised, all trace of joking gone as he entwined the fingers of one hand with hers. "I'll…." His eyes widened slightly in dismay. "Bollocks," he muttered. "Has to be me, pet. Don't actually mind, honestly, but would have been nice to be the one carin' for you."

"Huh?" Buffy frowned in confusion, not understanding the sudden turn around. She liked the idea of him being pregnant more than her, but she was willing to do it.

"Human blood."

Oh. Right. She was pretty sure she had all of her memories back – though she wouldn't really know that, would she? – but that had somehow slipped her mind. Spike had needed both human food and human blood while he carried Thursday. Buffy would need the same if she was the one pregnant with Aliena. She wrinkled her nose in disgust at the thought. Ew. Yeah, no human blood for her.

"I like the idea of you having kid number two," she said quietly. "That means I'll have a chance to treat you right from the very beginning. No being beaten, and no being chained up in my room." She thought about that for a moment. "Well, no being chained up as a way to keep you prisoner, anyway."

"That so, Slayer?" he murmured huskily, eyes dark with rekindled desire.

She wanted to pin him down and make hot, wild love to him. She knew they shouldn't. They had to deal with… with Willow. It wasn't mindless worship that made her reluctant – that was gone thankfully – but the fact that, despite things getting kind of rocky lately, Willow was her friend. Or had been. Surely things wouldn't implode if she hid from the reality of it all just long enough for a quickie, right?

"Hey!" Dawn called up from the lower level. "Are you two done 'playing checkers' up there?"

"Are you sure we should give Thursday a sister? Being an only child suddenly seems like it'd be wonderful." Buffy muttered darkly.

Spike chuckled and kissed her before standing and helping her up to her feet. "Come on, Slayer, work to be done." He raised his voice to be heard by Dawn. "Hang tight, Nibblet! You can come up when I give the go ahead."

They'd just gotten themselves presentable when the crypt door was slammed open for the second time that day. The second-to-last person Buffy wanted to see strutted inside as if he owned the place.

"Buffy, what are you doing here?" Riley asked with a frown.

Before she could launch herself at Riley and tell him to get the hell out, Spike stepped in front of her with an arrogant swagger. "What, don't like your girl hornin' in your territory, mate? 'Fraid she's better at your game of Kick the Spike? You got the stones to show her what you can do?"

No. Oh god, no. Spike glanced over his shoulder at her, his expression confirming what needed to happen. They couldn't let Willow know they'd been freed from her spell, so they couldn't act out of "character".

From the time of her calling, Buffy had had to do hard things and make sacrifices for the good of others. She'd given up her childhood, faced death at the hands of the Master, and driven a sword through her boyfriend before sending him to hell. Now she was being expected to just stand and watch as her ex pummeled the man she loved.

Buffy tensed with each blow and kick, wanting to jump in and stop things. She needed to get Riley out of there before Spike was too badly hurt or someone downstairs made some kind of noise loud enough to be heard. There was no reason for Tara or Dawn to be down there, and Thursday…. She hadn't remembered Thursday – had had only the intense feeling that she existed – and Spike hadn't remembered her either.

Willow wanted to be the center of attention, the one everyone loved and fawned over. They'd started drifting apart because of Thursday. The issues with the redheaded witch helping her do something horrible instead of stopping her had been part of it, but that wasn't all. Buffy hadn't had as much time for any of her friends because the center of her attention was her daughter. Willow had suppressed their memories of the baby's existence because she wasn't supposed to exist anymore.

If Riley saw Thursday and reported it to Willow…. I can't let that happen, Buffy thought grimly. No matter what, she could not let that happen. Even if it meant standing by and watching while Spike was ruthlessly beaten.