Thursday's Child

Chapter Twenty-Five

…

It had been a while since Angel had last seen 1630 Revello Drive. It looked pretty much the same. The girl inside though…. He clenched his fists, remembering the phone call that had sent him out here – driving fifteen miles over the speed limit the entire way – when he should have been trying to figure out Darla and Drusilla's plans. It had sounded like Buffy was sleeping with Spike. Like Dru's idiot brat was her boyfriend now instead of Soldier Boy.

What did you do to her, Spike? he wondered, feeling sick. He knew the younger vampire didn't have a thrall ability like the Master or Dru. He didn't really need one. As much as Angel hated to admit it, Spike had a sort of rough charisma and could charm the underwear off of a nun with just a look and a couple of words. That wouldn't have been enough to snare Buffy, though. She was too innocent and pure to be corrupted like that. Maybe a spell? He knew Spike had dabbled in magic a few times in the past.

Of course, standing around thinking about things wasn't getting him any closer to rescuing Buffy. He strode purposefully forward and grabbed the knob, frowning slightly at the resistance. Locked. Not really a problem for him. He forced the door open and stepped inside. He wasn't entirely sure what he'd expected – maybe a passionate kiss or a tearful hug – but Buffy staring at him in dumbfounded horror with a broom in her hand definitely wasn't it.

"My god, what is it with overbearing control freaks breaking into my house? Do you not know how to knock?" She advanced towards him, broom held up like a weapon, as he walked farther into the house. She whacked him in the face with the brush end. "Get out!" she insisted in a forceful whisper. "You're getting your smell everywhere."

"Buffy –" She whacked him in the face again before he could say anything more. What the hell was going on? Was the spell she was under making her act like this?

"Out!" She was still whisper yelling while glancing worriedly towards the stairs.

Was Spike up there? Angel could smell him pretty heavily in the house, as if he'd been for at least a week. Maybe more. There was something… off about the scent. It probably wasn't anything important, though. The important thing was saving Buffy.

"Buffy, it's going to be okay," he said, keeping his voice low and soothing. "I'm here now. I can handle Spike and fix whatever it is he's done to you." Instead of reassuring her, his words seemed to make her angry.

"Why does everyone always assume he's the one who did something to me?" she muttered, blocking him as he tried for the stairs and whacking at him again with the broom.

He tried to grab it away from her, but only succeeded in breaking the brush off from the handle. A horrifying thought occurred to him. What if it wasn't a spell? Where were Joyce and Dawn? Did Spike have them locked away? Was he forcing Buffy to sleep with him to keep them safe? I'm going to kill him, he thought grimly. Rip him to shreds.

"Where's your family?" he asked urgently. "Where is..." Crap. What had that military doofus's name been again? "Riley? Why hasn't anyone done something about this? Did Spike hire someone to kidnap them?"

"Stay away from the stairs and keep your voice down," she hissed. "I swear to god, if you wake him up, I'm going to rip your spleen out through your nose and make you wear it as a diaper."

Angel's jaw dropped at the graphic threat, and he staggered back a few steps as Buffy thumped him in the chest with the broom handle. "Buffy," he said quietly, trying to get through to her with the power of his love. Shadows joined the anger in her eyes, and her next thump was weaker than the one before. "Please, just talk to me, okay?"

She hit him with the broom handle again, driving him outside. She followed him out and closed the door behind them. "You wanna talk? Okay, talk. Explain why you came here when I'm pretty sure I've made it clear that Sunnydale is my turf."

Her hands were shaking slightly, but she seemed to have softened towards him now that he wasn't in the house. What the hell had Spike done to her to make her react like that to the thought of him being woken up? For that matter, why was he asleep this early in the night? Had Buffy drugged him in an attempt to free herself?

He took a step towards her and reached out to touch her cheek. She flinched away a little, confusion in her eyes. His poor girl. He knew he had to go back to L.A. once he'd fixed things here to deal with the mayhem being caused by Darla and Dru, but part of him wanted to stay. He wanted to be with her, but he knew the attraction between them was just too intense. They'd lose themselves.

He breathed in her scent, knowing it was a mistake even as he did it. The sheer want was overwhelming. Her blood, her body, just her. It was more than he could bear. The bloodlust roared through him, and he had to pull away before he vamped out.

"You don't have to be afraid of him anymore. I'm here now," he murmured, feeling like a hypocrite even as he said it.

I'm a vampire, he thought bitterly. Even with a soul, he was still a vampire. He'd always had trouble controlling himself around her.

She sighed, a long, drawn out sound. "I'm not afraid, Angel. Spike is here because I want him here. He hasn't done anything wrong."

Angel stared at her in disbelief. That wasn't possible. It couldn't be true, could it? This is my fault, he realized. He'd left her for her own good, but it had hurt her. That had to be why she'd ended up with Spike. They couldn't be together, so she'd gone for a related vampire who'd been effectively neutered by the government technology in his head. In a way, it made more sense than Riley, even if the soldier's build and general look had been similar to his own.

She was still so hung up on him, going from Riley – a physical substitute – to Spike, who could be considered his grandson. That feeling of family had always stayed Angel's hand in the past. Spike belonged to him, in a way, which was why he'd always let him walk – or swim, or ride – away whenever they crossed paths. It was why he'd tried to convince Dru to take Spike and leave Sunnydale early in their first visit. It was even the main reason he'd stopped Buffy from staking Spike in her kitchen after her friends had been kidnapped.

No more leniency, he thought grimly, clenching his fists. He couldn't be with Buffy, but he could protect her from her own terrible mistakes. He forced himself to put aside the feelings of family and fondness. Feelings he didn't like to admit to, but couldn't deny. For Buffy, though, he would finally put an end to Spike.

…

...

Buffy had known it would be bad, but she hadn't really been prepared for how bad. She'd forgotten – Or never really let myself notice – how condescending Angel could be. She'd always seen it as romantic protectiveness and a sharing of wisdom gained through life experience. But looking at him through more mature eyes, there was still an attraction. Part of her – the part that still desperately wanted to be a child – longed to throw herself into his arms.

"What happened with Riley?" Angel asked, contempt in his voice. She couldn't really fault him for that. "I didn't like him, but at least he was normal."

The word stabbed at her. Normal. She was starting to hate that word. "Yeah, well, I kinda ended up agreeing with you there," she muttered. He didn't even seem to be listening.

"You and Spike…." He shook his head in disgust. "Why, Buffy? Why Spike? You are sleeping with him, aren't you? How else did you know what he says in his sleep?" He paused, suddenly looking hopeful. "Unless you're keeping him locked up again and can't use Giles's bathtub for some reason."

She looked away, unable to answer. She wasn't ashamed of how she felt about Spike, but it felt… wrong to talk to Angel about it.

He shook his head with a sad sort of weariness, like she was a small child who had made a horrible mistake and wouldn't listen to him. "You and Spike together is even more of a disaster than the two of us. You know what he's like. Selfish and reckless. He'll always put his own twisted wants and desires above yours."

She stared at him incredulously. He was Spike's grandsire and had spent at least two decades with him from what she'd heard. He sounded like he didn't even know him at all. Even when they'd been enemies, Buffy had known Spike would do all he could for someone he loved. Using that fact was how she'd escaped that basement with the crazy vampire admiration cult. It was part of why Spike had come to her to help save the world. Her eyes narrowed. Did Angel really believe what he was saying, or was he just trying to badmouth a boyfriend he didn't approve of?

"Gee, that doesn't sound familiar at all," she muttered sarcastically.

"He'll never be able to give you the normal life he you need," he rattled on as if she hadn't spoken. "No kids and long sunlit walks with an undead lover, Buffy."

She fought back hysterical laughter. No kids, huh? Then the rest of what he'd said started to register. She remembered when he'd called their relationship a freak show. It had hurt then, and calling it a disaster hurt now. It was one, though, and you know it, she thought, feeling sick. She also felt... angry. How dare he show up here like he had any right to poke his nose into her life? How dare he pass judgement on her relationships? She wasn't his girlfriend, or daughter, or property.

"You have to let this go," he said, his voice suddenly earnest, like all he wanted was what was best for her.

"Let what go?" she snapped.

"Us. Me. Riley couldn't be what you needed even though he had some things in common with me. But jumping onto Spike…." He shook his head. "It'll never be what we were. You can't turn him into me."

"What?" Buffy said flatly, not quite able to believe what she was hearing.

"Think about it. A vampire who can't hurt anyone. That has to remind you of me. You have to let it go, Buffy. Just… move on."

Let it go? Move on? He was telling her to let it go and move on? Her grip tightened on the broom handle, drawing his attention. He looked a little uneasy, as if he'd just realized he'd created a really long stake by breaking off the brush. She wasn't exactly happy with him right now, but…. God, it was almost funny, in a horrifyingly awful way. Her ex constantly checking up on her and hating all of her boyfriends even while telling her that she was the one who needed to let go and move on.

"Go home, Angel," she said, her voice low and even.

"I'm here to save you. Even if only from yourself and whatever's wrong with you."

It was the final straw. She wasn't going to take any more of this. She advanced towards him, shaking with rage. She was so sick of people telling her what and who she was supposed to be. She lifted the broom handle and thumped him with it.

"Okay, that's it. You know what? I don't need to be saved, Angel. The only thing 'wrong' with me is that I've grown up. Maybe you should try it someday." She thumped him again. "You need to try something, because this thing you've been doing? The stalking and getting pissy if I'm with someone? Really not working for me." Thump. "You have no say in my love life." Thump. "You dumped me, remember? But not until after begging me not to give up on our relationship." She whacked him hard, driving him towards the road. "Just go away, Angel. I don't need you."

Angel stared at her, looking like a beached fish. God, it was so satisfying to feel like she was the one in control. Then he looked beyond her, his handsome face squinching in confused rage. Buffy's heart sank as she turned, already knowing what she would see. Spike, standing in the doorway, watching them. Given the slight smirk, he had apparently heard her rant, which was a relief. He was less likely to think she was planning to fall into Angel's arms.

The relief she felt was short lived. With a savage roar, Angel vamped out and launched himself at Spike.

…

...

One moment she was in his arms, sweet and warm. The next, he was gone, snatched away by Angel. He watched as they snuggled, his grandsire and his slayer. She looked so happy, practically glowing.

Angel smiled at him condescendingly. "Thanks for taking care of my girls. You always do such a good job, but in the end, they're always mine. They start out as mine, and end as mine. Even this one." Angel looked down suddenly at the swaddled form in his arms. "Hey there, Angela. Mommy and Daddy are here."

Spike looked down. He'd never thought he'd be sick and horrified by the sight of himself actually looking like himself. No, no, no! Thursday was his! Buffy being with that wanker hurt, but this….

Buffy giggled vapidly and looked at the baby. "Oooh," she cooed. "She has your eyes, Angel! And your beautiful face."

She held up the baby so Spike could see. Angel's head, full-sized, was on the tiny body. It grinned and winked at him. "Hey, Spike. Thanks for the incubation," it said. "Good boy"

Spike's eyes snapped open as he shuddered in revulsion. He mentally took stock. Back pain? Check. Achy joints? Also a check. Feeling as ungainly as a bloody sea cow? Abso-sodding-lutely. Thank god. He shook his head and snorted at himself. Never thought he'd wake up quite so grateful to still be pregnant. Seemed like it should have been reversed, but he always did tend to be a bit contrary, didn't he?

That was a bit of a kick to the goolies, now wasn't it? God, the dream had seemed so real. Coulda sworn I really did smell good ol' gramps. He closed his eyes and drew in a deep breath, expecting to get a good whiff of Slayer. He did, but her intoxicating scent was mingled with the taint of Angel's.

His eyes snapped open and he struggled out of the bed. Bloody buggering hell. What was the poofter doing here? He pulled his clothes on, including his coat. He didn't wear it much around the house itself, but sod all if he was going to face Angel without his armor.

He headed down the stairs. The scents of both Buffy and his grandsire were strong, but there was no sign of them. He opened the front door to see her whacking at the pillock with a stick like an oversized piñata. Huh. Well, that was a bit of alright, wasn't it? Except…. He shifted uneasily. She loved the wanker. Had to be bad news if she was hitting him with wood. Had he discovered a mirror that worked for vampires, sending his magical, detachable soul off on walkabout again?

He listened to the Slayer's rant as she backed Angel towards the road. He had no idea why the git was there, but it didn't seem like a missing soul situation. Thank god for that. Sounds like he just showed up and was his usual insufferable self. He leaned against the door, smirking slightly as he got the gist of what she was saying.

"Just go away, Angel. I don't need you."

You tell 'im, Slayer, he thought in admiration. It stung the soul a bit to rile her up too much, but she was so gorgeous when she was brassed off. Of course, then the bloody wanker had to up and ruin the moment by glancing his way. With a roar, Angel put on his gameface and lunged.

Oh bloody hell, Spike thought in dismay. Normally he'd be more than willing to throw down with the older vampire, but not now. He was nowhere near at his best, and this was going to put the sprog in serious danger.

He dodged as Angel threw a punch, and managed one of his own. Then the walking forehead brought up his knee in a powerful strike towards Spike's middle. He cursed and threw himself backwards, the blow only grazing him. He tripped and ended up sprawled on his back in the doorway, his sweater riding up. Angel stared down at him in utter bewilderment for a moment before being tackled from the side by a furiously snarling slayer.

She took Angel down to the ground and pounded his face with a short and brutal series of punches. Then she rose, a beautiful golden Valkyrie, eyes and hair wild as she rushed to Spike's side and knelt beside him.

"Are you okay?" she asked as he sat up, her voice breathy with panic. She ran her hands over him to reassure herself even as he waved away her concern.

"Fine. Feel like a right bloody ponce for tripping over my own sodding feet in the middle of a fight, but I'm fine."

He winced slightly as Thursday let out a kick of protest over all of the excitement. Buffy, her hand pressed firmly against his abdomen, suddenly grinned, going from avenging fury to expectant parent. It wasn't the first time she'd felt the sprog kick, but it always reduced her to that adorably goofy grin.

"Wha' th' hell?" Angel mumbled as he struggled to his feet. He was back to looking human, or relatively so. His nose was broken and one eye a swollen mess. "Wahs go' on?" He grunted as he fixed his nose and spat out blood. "I dink… I hab… ride to… dow," he panted.

No, you bloody don't, Spike thought, glaring at him in annoyed resentment as the joy drained from Buffy's face. She looked tired and heart sore, and Spike really wanted to have a go at the wanker for doing that to her. He knew better, though. Getting into a row with Angel would just cause her pain.

She kept her gaze locked on his as she responded to her ex. "No, Angel, you don't. This is between me and Spike. You don't belong here. You aren't part of this."

"Is he…? He can't be…." Angel's expression went from confused disbelief to jealousy to bewilderment before finally settling into a carefully stony mask. The swelling around his nose was already starting to fade, leaving him speaking better. "Who's the father?"

Buffy's shoulders slumped as she sighed. She gave Spike a look that was both apologetic and questioning. He sighed as well.

"Might as well give him the basics, love. The biggest cats are all out of the bag anyhow, and he's just gonna nag if he don't get a few answers."

She nodded and stood up, turning to face Angel with a look of determination. "I am," she said, head held up proudly. He knew she hated what had happened to the both of them because of the ritual, but she didn't seem ashamed of either the sprog or him. "There was this... It's complicated…." She took a deep breath. "None of this is really any of your business. The baby is mine and Spike's, and I'll kick your ass if you attack him again. That's more than you even deserve to know. Go home."

"Buffy... I don't know how he's convinced you that… thing is yours, but we need to destroy it."

Buffy stiffened at Angel's word, and Spike pulled his coat tighter around himself, as if it could somehow protect the sprog. Who knew, maybe it could. It had belonged to a mother once.

"I will rip your arms off and beat you with them before I let you harm my child," she said, her voice deadly serious.

"Spike is dead and male. There's no way this is natural or normal," Angel pointed out as if they were too stupid to have realized that themselves. "I know it feels like it's your kid somehow, but it really isn't. It probably isn't actually even Spike's either. There was this one time, when Cordelia…" He paused, shaking his head. "The details aren't important, but she thought some evil, parasitic things growing inside of her were her babies."

Buffy sighed, and Spike could tell, even with her facing away from him, that she was rolling her eyes. "You have no idea what's been going on here, Angel. I told you, the baby is mine and Spike's. This is not an assumption, it's a fact. The baby is ours, and we're keeping it."

"Damn it, Buffy! It probably doesn't even have a soul! It's evil!"

"Not any of your soddin' business, but the sprog does have a soul," Spike pointed out irritably. God, he was tired. Tired of dealing with Angel and just tired in general. Everything seemed to take so much effort these days, and sleep had become a game of chase the sodding magic dragon. And when he caught it…. Well, bloody thing had teeth didn't it?

"Even if she didn't have a soul, she'd still be my daughter, and I'd still love her," Buffy said quietly. "I still wouldn't let you kill her." She sighed, sounding almost as tired as he felt. "You need to go home, Angel."

Angel looked like he'd been smacked in the face with a trout. "Buffy," he said pleadingly.

"I'm sorry, Angel. Part of me still loves you. It always will." She glanced apologetically at Spike as she spoke, but he nodded in understanding. He didn't like it, but he knew it was true. Just like part of him would always love Dru. "But you aren't a part of my life anymore. Just… let it go. Move on."

Angel stared at them for a long moment. "You're making a terrible mistake, Buffy. I don't know why you think it has a soul, but when that thing turns on you…." He shook his head. "It will, you know. So will Spike. And maybe I won't be here to save you." Then he turned around and walked away.

Buffy didn't watch him leave. Didn't sigh after him with suppressed longing. No, she just turned back towards Spike and smiled, holding out her hand to help him get to his feet. "Come on," she said softly. "Let's go back to bed."