Wow, seriously, anyone would think I was doing this on purpose…

I decided to update for my birthday, and, well… look at that for a title… O.o It's a coincidence, I assure you – this chapter has always been called Happy Birthday, Buffy (a Buffy the Vampire Slayer reference), but I forgot that this was next - I'd probably have updated sooner, actually, to avoid this, because it's lame considering that the OTHER fic I updated today (Poison Apple, random Disney/Death Note stuffz) also – coincidentally – has stuff to do with birthdays…

Ugh, I'm such a lame. A nineteen year old one, as of today, 3rd December. :D

We're into the last "arc" of Remember the Titans now – and someone special makes a cameo in here too! Yay for him…

My god, this fic has been going waaaaaaay too long… O.o I'd finished writing it by this time last year, it's just me being lazy with updates, I confess…

Thankyou to: The Tygre, Amara-chan, LoopyLouise123, uinn and His Quill, Someone, Still Sketchin', Narroch, Guardian of Azarath, Dragon Princess 1988, TheFallenAngel67, Simmie, Chanceless and Me!

Happy Birthday, Buffy

The next few days passed quietly.

Or so was the illusion.

On the outside, it seemed quiet; and in terms of criminal activity, it was.

Mad Mod showed up Downtown in a Union Jack-painted van with fold-out hypno-screen panels; the H.I.V.E trio of Gizmo, Jinx and Mammoth crashed the mall; and Killer Croc thought it would be a good idea to hide from Batman in the city protected by his sidekick to avoid being taken back to Arkham Asylum.

The Teen Titans thrashed him and strung him up from a lamppost for Batman to collect; and Robin left a little note attached to the hulking clocked-out villain, stating "Too slow!" along with a little bat and a smiley face.

To Robin's disappointment, it was not Batman who showed up on collection duty; it was Superman, who read the note, grinned and pocketed it before flying off with Killer Croc over one shoulder. Robin was assured of two things; that the entire Justice League was now involved in the catching of all the Arkham Asylum escapees; and that Batman would definitely get the note one way or another.

Where Batman was absolutely lacking a sense of humour, Superman was right there to fill in for it.

The note had amused Big Blue, anyway.

But other than that, there was nothing.

Slade had gone back to lying low for a while; a frequent practice, and did not send Terra out to wreak havoc.

For all they knew, the pair of them could have disappeared off the face of the earth.

And so, their days were spent lazily; Beast Boy (between moping over Terra) and Cyborg played many a videogame, and Starfire cooked up many a disgusting recipe that everyone pretended to be enjoying and then spat onto the floor or into the nearest plant when she turned her back.

Robin was, as usual, hard at work; but this time he had not turned his attention to his crime files; to scrutinizing the movements and motives of various villains, trying to figure out where they would strike next.

He was studying magic.

Frustrated as he was by Raven's sudden memory-lapse and personality-lobotomisation, he was using it to the best of his advantage.

She was – and almost annoyingly so – very clingy to him; she followed him everywhere and wouldn't be without him. She wasn't all over him exactly; but she wasn't satisfied unless he was at least in the same room as her. This wasn't entirely a bad thing, because although he didn't get much peace from her, she was enthusiastic about lending him her books and equipment.

He hadn't, of course, told her he was looking for a protection spell so that she wouldn't die when he stabbed her through the womb and murdered her unborn child; in her present state-of-mind (acting plain weird and thinking it was his and that everything was going to be fine and fun and dandy…) he didn't think it was a very good idea, and it wasn't even worth him trying to explain everything that had happened in the future, because she simply couldn't remember.

He had his suspicions that her current state had something to do with her (weird) pregnancy; and he was hoping against hope that when he slaughtered the child, she would be restored to normal.

So, for the meantime, he had spun her some story about gaining an interest in magic and had asked very sweetly if it might be alright to borrow some of her books and magical items to practice with.

This had worked remarkably well and reaped him a couple of fringe benefits to boot; she had written out a chart of Azarathian-English symbols and given him a Latin/English phrasebook so that he could decipher parts of her texts, cracked open her personal locked case of "forbidden" books that she would not have let him near had she been herself and let him go through them, and given him permission to go into her room at any time without asking, as long as he knocked first.

Although he admitted that this would have been a lot easier if Raven had simply been "normal", he was glad of her immense cooperation. There was a little catch, but it wasn't an awful one, so he had agreed to it to keep her happy.

She had declared that she was lonely in bed at night and had requested that he come in and share her bed with her to keep her company. He had then gotten a very long prissy out-of-character lecture about him not getting any ideas and having to wear pyjamas and he began to wonder why she had even requested it in the first place if she was so paranoid he was going try and have his way with her.

Nevertheless, he had agreed to it; and it wasn't altogether a bad thing either; for one thing, he got to keep a close eye on her, which was a relief to him because to be honest her condition concerned him immensely. She was huge, but did not seem as though she was ready to give birth yet (which was another vast relief), and although she had stopped being sick and was looking much healthier and even prettier, he didn't like it.

He didn't like it at all.

He wasn't too fussed about being so close to that demon parasite inside her, but there wasn't anything he could do about that…

Because if there was then he wouldn't need to be going through her books looking for a spell.

He knew that the rest of the team suspected something; Raven's confusing behaviour and her near–obsession with him was enough to make anyone think that…

Well, what, exactly?

Robin didn't entirely know what was going on himself; there were still so many questions that just hadn't been answered, and he wasn't sure if he was ever going to get them.

Seth Elliott was dead.

The Azarathian Senate was out of his reach with Raven the way she was.

Slade had disappeared.

Terra had truly turned on them.

Raven was acting weird.

Batman was unreachable because he wasn't in Gotham at the moment; instead, he and the Justice League were all over the place, rounding up Arkham escapees.

The other Titans were clueless.

Terra (the older Terra) and Roy were in another time, and now that he had taken the Clock of Eternity back to the museum…

Well, it seemed that whatever way he turned, whichever door he chose, it was locked, shut off from him.

Which was why, once again, he was left to work it out on his own.

"I was thinking about names."

Robin paused, feeling as though someone had tied a knot in his stomach.

"Yeah?" He asked, trying to sound enthusiastic.

It was one in the morning, and he and Raven were in her candle-lit room getting ready for bed.

The scene was almost domestic; the young husband and wife expecting their first child, getting into bed while excitedly debating names.

In a way, Robin knew that that was how Raven saw it; because she was so screwed up and didn't know any better.

It was as though… she was seeing the world through rose-tinted lenses; a perspective she had never had before.

But there was nothing rosy about this situation; Raven was pregnant, yes – but it was a monster. A demon child, the baby of Seth Elliott and Raven Roth, one a hugely powerful evil half-demon, the other the daughter of the demon Trigon, blessed with a human mother and cursed with a terrible destiny that was her birthright.

The baby was evil; Robin was a mortal, a human, and yet he could tell. Raven had been born of horrific rape by a monster; but she had turned out good all the same.

Robin knew that Trigon's grandchild wasn't going to be quite the same; most likely because it was Seth's. He wondered how the child would have turned out if it had been his baby.

Probably okay.

But Seth Elliott had been bad news; and his child seemed to be taking that after its father.

Robin gave a little shiver.

It had to go. Period.

Pulling on his black and acid green long-sleeved pyjamas, Robin looked over his shoulder at Raven; who had stopped talking.

Another little shiver crept down his spine as he saw her across the other side of her gothic-designed bedroom (he wasn't actually sure how he was able to sleep in here…); she was standing in front of a full-length mirror – Azarathian runes craved into the heavy metal frame – dressed only in her black bra and underwear, rubbing her hand lovingly over the smooth surface of her swollen belly.

She was smiling at her reflection.

He looked away again quickly, for two reasons; one, he didn't want her to accuse him of being a pervert because he was staring at her in her underwear; and two, he just didn't want to look at her being so…

…motherly…

"It's growing so quickly," she said softly.

"Uh-huh."

Don't I know it, Robin griped irritably.

"I'm glad," Raven went on, "because I can't wait…"

"Oh…" He cleared his throat. "Uh, no, me neither… it's gonna be great…"

She turned to him.

"Robin, you really do want to have this baby with me, don't you?"

He looked up at the ceiling.

"Sure I do," he lied.

"Then why won't you look at me?" Raven snapped. And then her eyes widened as though realisation was suddenly dawning on her; "Oh, you're disgusted by me, aren't you? You think I'm fat and ugly!"

He was almost amused; because such things would never have crossed Raven's mind before…

…all this…

"No I don't," he replied calmly. "The reason I'm not looking at you is because you're hardly wearing anything…"

Raven came over to him and grasped his head, making him look at her.

"What?" He asked, meeting her gaze.

She didn't answer, holding him there for a moment or two; and then she finally let him go.

"Just checking…" She wandered away again; and he rolled his eyes as she moved away from him.

Mood swings.

He went to her large bed and got in as she pulled out the oversized T-shirt she had taken to wearing for bed out from under her pillow; Robin had given it to her for that very purpose, and she simply wore that over her underwear and bra. It was black, with a blue electric guitar and the slogan "I Want My MTV" on the front and Dire Straits: Money for Nothing in faded azure writing across the back.

It had been Bruce's.

Raven slipped in next to him, extinguishing all but one candle with her powers; and snuggled up to him, resting her head on his chest. As was his usual jaded practice, he waited a few moments, then put his arms around her back so that she didn't complain that he was trying to edge away from her.

Another downside to her "new" personality; she was suddenly extremely paranoid and even covetous. It was as though she had suddenly decided that he was her property and hers alone, and made a conscious effort to keep the other Titans away from him (not just Starfire, but Beast Boy and Cyborg too).

It was very tiring dealing with her; but he had also read up on pregnancy from a book in the cabinet in the sick bay, and had been surprised to note that this kind of behaviour was actually quite normal in pregnant women.

He wasn't too thrilled about that; it meant that if he ever decided to get married and have children, he was going to have to go through all this again, even though the baby would be normal…

He realised grimly that Raven had been right; if everybody thought like he did, the human race would be long dead…

"I bought a book," Raven murmured sleepily, drawing a pattern with her finger on his stomach. "You know, of baby names…"

"Yeah?" He looked up at the dark ceiling.

"Yeah…" She repeated her little swirling pattern on the material of his pyjamas. "And I was reading it and picking some names… There are some nice unusual ones. Did you have any in mind, or would you like to hear my list?"

"Uh, I'll hear your list…"

He shivered; now they were choosing names for it? For that stinking evil little—?

"Okay, well, for a girl… Cassandra?"

"Cassandra?"

"She was the love of Apollo in Greek mythology; he gave her the gift of prophecy."

"Uh-huh." He tried to make himself sound interested. "What else?"

"Well, I like Cordelia, which means 'good-hearted'; and Morven, which means 'wave of the sea' in Gaelic; and Odette, which means "heritage"; and "Maeve", which is Gaelic for "goddess" – it can also be spelt "Meadhbh"; oh, and I like Desiderata, and Aurelia, and Philomena, and Senoia, and-"

"Raven, was there a "Weird Names" section at the back of that book?" Robin snapped. "If you must pick a name, can't you pick a normal one? Stupid baby names are for clueless movie stars…"

"But our baby is going to be special. I want to give it a special name."

Define "special"…

"Names beginning with "v" are nice," Raven said thoughtfully. "Do you like Violet? Or Victoria? "

"Uh, well…" He sighed; this was a game he didn't want to play at all. "We'll come back to it. What about – dare I ask – boy's names?"

Raven was pleased.

"Oh, I have lots…"

"That's what I'm afraid of."

"I like Aaron. It's Hebrew for "mountain"."

"Okay, that's a nice normal name…"

"Do you like Bartholomew?"

"No."

"Raphael?"

"No."

"Constantine?"

"No."

"How about Malachi? Or Xanthion? Or Virgil? Or Honor? Or-?"

"Raven, where are you getting these names from?"

"The book." Raven sniffled miserably in the dark. "Don't you like any of them?"

"No, they're stupid…"

"Well, how about Casper? Do you like Casper? Or Kirby?"

"Those are the kind of names people get beaten up for…"

"We could name it Bruce if you wanted."

Robin gave a little shiver.

"I don't want to call it Bruce."

"What do you want to call it, then? It needs to have a name…"

"Why can't you just pick one when…"

He trailed off uncomfortably, not knowing how to finish; it wasn't a normal baby, and once he was finished with it, it wasn't going to be anything. Truthfully, he didn't want her to pick names for it because that would be getting too attached. In her normal state, Raven would know this and would have more sense, but like this…

"Raven, I think you should just leave it for now," he said finally.

She was hurt that he didn't like any of her name choices and gave him a vengeful jab in the stomach.

"Ouch!"

"You're mean," she muttered balefully.

"Uh-huh…" He rubbed at his stomach in the dark, glad that she couldn't see how much it had hurt him.

She didn't say anything else and he was glad of the peace; his eyes slid closed and he was just comfortably drifting off to sleep…

"I'm scared."

His opened his eyes irritably.

"What?" He gave a sleepy little moan. "I thought you were asleep…"

"I can't." She writhed further against him. "I'm scared."

"Me too," he sniped grouchily. "Maybe you should redecorate…"

"Not my room!" He received another prod in the stomach. "You're stupid!"

"I'm also tired, so could you please just go to sleep? There's no need to be scared of… whatever you're scared of…"

He closed his eyes again, turning his head away from her on the pillow.

She whimpered and clutched at him and he opened them again. Raven had never annoyed him before, but these past few days she had been trying his patience immensely. She was, like… Starfire-clingy tenfold.

"What?" He snapped.

"I'm scared about… giving birth…"

"Oh."

Well, how was he supposed to answer that? If he had any say in the matter, she wasn't going to be giving birth, because he was going to have destroyed the child before she even went into labour.

But he couldn't tell her that.

Not yet.

Not until he was ready.

And, well… what did he know about pregnancy and childbirth anyway? He, thankfully, would never have to go through it…

He patted her head.

"It'll be okay…"

"It'll hurt."

"Well…" He was floored. "…Yeah. But they can… drug you up and everything…"

"Do you think I should have a Caesarean?"

"I think you should stop worrying and get some sleep…"

And let me handle it… one way or another…

—

The corridor was dark; and somehow familiar to him. Stone walls, stone floor, flaming torches in brackets.

Writing on those walls, glowing blue – symbols that he couldn't read, but yet he knew them to be Azarathian.

He was in Azarath, then?

He was walking; as though in slow-motion. He couldn't seem to go any faster than this – how he tread now. Couldn't run, although he wasn't particularly trying. And he knew where he was going without being conscious of it; knew where this direction would take him.

Inevitably, he came to his destination, and though the journey there had seemed, at the time, epically slow, now it seemed that he was here too soon.

He didn't want to be here.

And yet he was drawn forward; compelled; controlled, like a puppet.

Another stone chamber lit by torches. In the centre of the small room was a square stone block; and lain upon it were blankets and sheets.

And on those blankets, held down by figures in hooded robes, was Raven.

Screaming; crying; she writhed and thrashed in their grip, tears streaming down her face and blood spattered up the insides of her legs.

He understood.

It was not her fellow Azarathians who were hurting her.

Raven was in labour.

And she was dying.

He tried to push through to her, but there were too many of them, all swarming around her; mopping her brow, adjusting the white sheet thrown over her naked body, holding her down, soothing her in Azarathian. He couldn't get near her at all.

No-one even seemed to realize that he was there, despite the fact that he stood out; the dark-haired teenaged boy in red, yellow and green among the sea of serious robed adults. And it was only then, as he stood in silent despair, that he felt the hand on his shoulder.

Turning, he found that Jonathon Vaughan was behind him; the dead senator, in this dreamworld, restored to a "living" state.

His heart was back where it should have been, anyway…

"Jonathon?"

Jonathon offered him a vague little smile; which faded as the auburn-haired senator looked up and across the chamber at poor Raven.

"You have to stop this," he said softly.

"I can't stop it," Robin replied dejectedly. "I can't stop her from giving birth… and I can't get near her, anyway…"

Raven's scream tore the air and Jonathon turned his gaze back on Robin.

"She will die if you don't."

"What do you want me to do?!" Robin snapped, exasperated. "This is all you people do; you and Marcus and the rest of the Senate! You tell me I have to do something, but you don't tell me how, and then you expect me to succeed? How can I save her if you won't even tell me how?!"

Jonathon was grimly amused.

"Wouldn't that be making it rather too easy?"

Robin turned away from him in disgust.

"You're as bad as the Riddler…"

"Your mentor taught you well. I shouldn't think that a few cryptic signs would throw you off so easily…"

"Well, excuse me for not being all gung-ho about it!" Robin spat. "Magic and prophecy isn't exactly my area of expertise, and it's not Batman's either. This is the kind of thing Raven deals with…"

"Well, Raven is a little indisposed at the moment…"

"I can see that…" Robin was aware that this was a dream; and that everything they spoke of had a double meaning. They weren't just talking about the happenings of the present within the dream (Raven screaming bloody murder in agony), but about the real world.

About the fact that Raven truly wasn't "available" at the moment to take over what should have been her area of expertise. Was Raven normal, she would have found the spell by now and the thing inside her would probably have been dealt with days ago.

But Robin was having to work it out alone, and since he couldn't read Latin and Azarathian and was having to rely heavily on the chart she had given him, and specified that he did not know his way around her books (she would know what she was looking for and where to look), it was an extremely slow process.

"She will die if you do not prevent this," Jonathon said again, his voice soft. "She could never survive this birth. I believe that Seth was perhaps the only one who could have enabled her to live through it; he had the knowledge and the power to keep her alive. But otherwise…"

Robin clenched his fists.

"I won't let her die."

"Then you must hurry and find the spell to protect her from the Blade of Azar."

"The Blade of Azar?"

"The demon-slaying knife. That's its correct name. There were seven of them."

"Marcus told me that."

"Then he will also have told you that it is dire that you destroy that child, not just because of Raven's welfare. Its very essence is of pure and utmost malevolence – more corrupt than even Seth himself. Its heritage is a most tainted one; the grandchild of Trigon the Terrible bred with a human woman – Angela Roth – used as an offering, and on the other side, a siren-demon and a powerful Azarathian. The results of both of those procreations were Seth Elliott and Raven Roth; and now she carries their child within her. Can you imagine it being anything other than an incarnation of--?"

"Yeah, I'm thinking more "Evilfest" than "Baby Shower"…"

"Robin, if you thought Seth was bad news-"

"I get it, I get it…" Robin sighed. "It's alright, I'm on it…"

"Perhaps not quickly enough…"

"What do you—?"

Another horrifying scream of throat-rending agony interrupted him and then the entire room was plunged into darkness, all of the candles being extinguished at once, and for no reason.

Or was there a reason?

He got his answer as he heard the tiny weak cry of a newborn baby.

Someone muttered a few words and relit all of the torches; and in the orange flickering light Robin saw two Azarathian monks wrapping the newborn in blankets with utmost care.

So Seth hadn't been kidding when he said that the Azarathians were too compassionate for their own good.

They had let Seth live.

They had let Raven live.

Now they were letting their child live.

"What are they doing?" Robin asked in despair; but when he received no answer, he looked over his shoulder to find that Jonathon Vaughan was gone.

Sudden fury and determination overtaking him, Robin pushed his way through the crowd of silent monks and priestesses and acolytes to where Raven lay.

She was sprawled on her back, the sheet barely covering her, pale and bloody and still.

"Raven?" He asked tentatively, taking her hand.

She didn't answer; didn't move.

Just lay there.

Dead.

"Raven!" He shook her, even though he knew…

He bit his lip; clenched his fists; and blinked away the tears pricking at his eyes.

And—

"There!"

"There he is!"

Robin was grasped suddenly by the shoulders and pulled backwards; and to his immense shock found himself surrounded by the monks.

"She is dead," one said quietly.

"I know," Robin growled.

"Then we must give the child to you…"

Robin blinked.

"What? Why?"

One of the monks drew down his hood as another gently placed the newborn into Robin's arms.

"Because it is your baby, is it not? You are the father? Raven insisted that you were the father…"

"No…" Robin shook his head, horrified. "No, it isn't mine… no, I don't… I don't want it!"

They had already all turned away from him; and once more he seemed to become invisible and mute.

"IT'S NOT MINE!" Robin screamed at them.

And was ignored.

They were clustered around Raven now; two wrapped her in the sheet and four of them gently carried her out of the chamber.

"No!" Robin cried, trying to go after them; but it seemed though there was some invisible force blocking him, because he couldn't get near them. "No! Bring her back! Come back!"

Nothing. He was left alone in the dimly-lit chamber, the demon child in his arms.

He looked down at it in terror and disgust. Wrapped in red blankets, it was asleep; wet and bloody, barely minutes old.

It didn't look all that threatening to him, to be honest. It didn't look evil…

And then it opened its eyes.

He couldn't scream; and he couldn't drop it.

But his blood ran cold and his heart thunked in his chest.

Four crimson slits, as though covered in a thin film of blood; inherited from its mother.

He didn't want to know what it had inherited from its father…

"Would you like me to take it?"

A voice from behind him. Relieved, he handed it back without looking, glad to have it out of his arms.

And then…

He whipped around.

Seth Elliott smirked at him, cradling his newborn child in his arms.

"Thankyou, Richard," he purred. "It would have been so easy for you to dash its brains on the floor, but you held it and kept it nice and safe for me…" He smiled and looked down at the baby. "You don't know how long I've waited for this…"

Robin couldn't speak.

Seth?

But he was…

Seth turned and walked away, carefully cradling his child.

Seth was dead

But then… so was Jonathon.

And speaking of…

"You can't let this happen."

Robin turned to find Jonathon behind him again.

"You didn't let me finish before," the dead senator went on. "The child is bad news alone, but the birth of it… Seth always has a back-up plan; the chances of him dying were very slim indeed, but he always knew that Raven had the power to destroy him if only he made her angry enough. So he placed charms upon the child; one being that it couldn't be destroyed by anyone other than a flesh-and-blood creator – which is a title that you, through a loophole, qualify as – and the other being that on the event of the birth of the child, Raven's life would be taken and—"

"…He would be resurrected," Robin finished, his voice a hoarse, horrified whisper. "Marcus didn't…"

"Marcus doesn't know."

"Then how do you?"

Jonathon looked mildly insulted.

"Why do you think he murdered me? I knew everything. The "real" prophecy, your role, Raven's child… and that Seth never intended to die – and if he did, he didn't intend to stay dead. If he lived, he would have married Raven and made her his queen. If he died – which he did – he intended to take her life to restore his own with the birth of the child… He would be resurrected from her Soul Self and brought to wherever she gave birth, and of course the child would be his for the taking." Jonathon shrugged. "Which, I suppose, isn't illegal or anything… It is his baby…"

Robin frowned. There was too much information here, too many things that…

"This isn't a dream, is it?"

"It is, but not your regular kind," Jonathon corrected. "You aren't dreaming up any of these things; I am contacting you from the World Beyond, trying to help… But I am having to use your dreams as a bridge. It's probably safer to call this a vision, of sorts…"

"This really will happen?"

"Unless you stop it."

"How?!" Robin was desperate. "Jonathon, help me! Help me save her!"

Jonathon looked at him sadly.

"There are laws I cannot break. I cannot tell you everything I know."

"Then something!" Robin begged. "A clue, anything! Please, help me. I can't do this by myself. I don't know anything about magic… The most I can do at the moment is levitate feathers!"

"I may tell you this, and this only…" Jonathon put his hands on Robin's shoulders. "The moon is your hourglass, and it is nearly running out."

"What?" Robin was utterly perplexed.

Jonathon smiled.

"It will make sense, Robin. You are a clever boy; a true detective."

His voice dropped to a whisper.

"And here's something for free… try the purple book…"

Robin blinked at him; and as he did so, Jonathon slowly – somehow – drew the silver Blade of Azar out of thin air. Grasping the hilt, he turned it over in his grip.

"You know what to do."

Robin looked up as the knife was pressed into his right hand; Jonathon grinned.

"Happy Birthday, Buffy…"

And therein the title becomes relevant.

How tenuous – but I like the line. It's perhaps the alliteration…

Next chapter: Robin and Cyborg hang out in the kitchen at 2:00am! Don't miss it!!!111111!!!111!

Oh, and there's some séance crap and stuff in there too… //Shrug//

On a brighter note, I think I might call my kids Meadhbh and Kirby…

- RobinRocks xXx