~[*]~
EPISODE SEVEN
Unexpected Developments

Cordelia felt like she was drowning.

It was one thing to have all kinds of fantastical daydreams about Angel, to speculate and ponder in a semi-detached co-workery way, but actually being in his arms was something else. It was incredible. She felt so connected to him, and not just in the lip department. There was an emotional connection too - a great seething mass of emotion. The intensity of it scared her.

She pulled back and stared into his eyes. They're liquid, she thought inanely, like the blackest ink.

He returned her gaze, unblinking. "Cordy..." Her name was a whisper this time, uttered with prayer-like reverence.

"No," she withdrew from his embrace. "No, don't."

"I..."

"I said don't." She retreated to the other side of the cell, one hand pressed to her mouth in something akin to shock. She stood there for a moment, taking deep breaths to calm herself. When she turned back, though, she was still shaking.

"Explain yourself," she commanded.

Oh ho, behold the princess-voice. Angel looked up at her, cocking his head to one side. When he'd turned into the beast she hadn't batted an eyelid, and yet this was freaking her out. Interesting.

"Explain what? I thought it was pretty self-explanatory."

"You kissed me."

"I noticed." One corner of his mouth ticked up the tiniest bit. "I also noticed that there was some kissing back."

"Well it was..." She frowned. Was he flirting? "Stop doing that."

He flicked her an amused glance from under his lashes. "Doing what?"

"Making with the cutie-patootie. It's wrong."

"Is it?"

"See!" She pointed accusingly. "There! That's just not normal. All the friskiness and schmoozability and ... and graargh!" She threw her hands up in the air. "You're being such a guy! I so want to strangle you right now."

Angel smiled then. "Go ahead. I don't breathe, you know, so strangling would be..."

Cordelia stared at him. "Why are you doing this to me?" Her voice sounded brittle. She was right on the verge of cracking up on him. "Is this some kind of game to you?"

"No!" He scrambled to his feet, his attempts at playfulness forgotten. "Not a game. Never." He reached for her but she ducked away. "Cordy..."

"And just so you know, I never gave you permission to call me that. There I was, minding my own business, and then WHAM! Suddenly its all 'Cordy' this and 'Cordy' that. My name is Cordelia, you big blockhead! Use it once in a while."

"Why are you acting like this?" Angel was getting concerned now. She was starting to rant. Ranting wasn't a good sign.

"Like what? Like one of my best friends suddenly decided to get lip-locky with me?" She huffed, fisted hands planted firmly on her hips. "Well, excuse me for being just a little bit wigged. I mean, left field much?"

"Left-?" Angel scowled. "I thought I was being really obvious."

"Obvious. Yeah, 'cause you're all out-in-the-open guy." Cordelia paused, replaying the last few minutes in her head. "Hey, back up Mr. Clamshell, I don't think we're on the same page. What the hell are you talking about?"

Angel sighed. "You still can't see it can you?"

"See what? Would you stop with the cryptic already?"

Time for the direct approach. Angel seized her upper arms, almost like he was going to try and shake some sense into her. The thought crossed his mind. He ignored it.

"When are you going to wake up and realize that I love you?"

Damn. That came out angrier than he would have liked.

She stopped struggling and stared at him, mouth agape. Then she shook her head. "No you don't."

He hadn't really known what to expect, but he knew that wasn't it. She sounded like she was humoring him or something. Like he was delusional. He willed his hands not to tighten their grasp on her arms. "I'm not playing here. Cordelia, I'm in love with you."

"You can say it as much as you want, but it doesn't make it true." Her voice had gone oddly flat now, lifeless. "You're in love with Buffy. You'll always be in love with Buffy. You guys had the big forever love, remember? The eternal soul-mate, death-do-us-part thing, all moony-eyed and star-crossed... Well, not so much with the crosses, I guess, but..."

Angel shoved her away from him. "God, you can be so stubborn," he gritted, running an impatient hand through his hair. "What part of 'over' did you not understand?"

"Hey, you're the emotionally stunted one," she returned hotly. "You are so totally clueless when it comes to stuff like this. You don't love me, Angel. You're projecting. I'm just the projectee - the convenient little Slayer substitute."

Angel snorted and then blinked at the noise, startled. Great, now he was starting to sound like Spike. The thought annoyed him just that much further.

"I'm two and a half centuries old," he growled. "I'm a big boy now. I think I'm up with the feelings. And the convenient thing? Spare me. There is nothing convenient about this."

He folded his arms and stared her down, positive that he'd just seen the slightest flicker of uncertainty. "I - Love - You." He enunciated each word slowly and deliberately, determined to get through to her. "And I'm just gonna keep saying it until you believe me. Or..." An impish light flared in his eyes. "I could keep kissing you. That was fun."

"Fun? Did you just say fun?" The uncertainty exploded into full-blown skepticism. "Okay, it's official. The big beast-morph melted your brain."

"Nah." Angel grinned crookedly. "I think it was the kissing."

"Would you stop with the flirting!" she cried. "There's enough freakage here already without the extra helping of weird."

"I know." The vampire grew serious again. He rammed his hands into his pockets and bowed his head. "I'm sorry. It's just... It's a relief, I guess, to finally have it out in the open. You need time to adjust and I'm..." He trailed off and frowned, his brows knitting together in concentration.

"What?" Cordelia demanded. "What's wrong now?"

"Shh!" Angel waved a hand at her, listening intently. He wandered over to the wall and rested an ear against the stone. "Someone's in the next cell."

Cordy grimaced. "It's not Wesley is it? 'Cause if it is, we are so screwed."

"No, it's..." he straightened and shook his head in amusement. "It's Lorne. He's singing."

"Oh please! Dungeon karaoke?"

"I'm not kidding."

Cordelia rolled her eyes. "Now there's a huge surprise."

Angel glowered for a moment, offended. He could have been kidding. He was a great kidder - he could kid her ass off. He rapped his knuckles against the dense stone. "If the walls weren't so thick you could probably..." He stopped and let out a chuckle. "Andy Williams?"

Cordelia's nose crinkled in utter disgust. "Ugh. And you think you know someone..."

Angel looked at her. "What's wrong with Andy Williams? Especially 'Can't Take My Eyes off You' - it's a classic."

"Yeah, a classic pile of schmaltzy crap."

Angel sighed. There she was - Queen C. Her defenses were back up. Now there would be no getting through to her.

~*[+]*~

Spike was beginning to worry. He shouldn't be so nauseous and lightheaded. The sampling of blood he'd taken from Buffy should have been enough to sustain him for days, but even that tiny amount was making his stomach churn.

Way back when he'd first gotten the chip he had gone a few weeks without feeding and he still hadn't been this bad. It didn't make sense. He speculated momentarily that Buffy's current weakness was somehow sapping him via the link, but deep down he knew that wasn't the right reason. And it had been going on longer than just this little cross-dimensional jaunt.

One of them was ill.

Buffy looked up from her mug of kallaberry tea and raised an inquiring brow. Her bright "What's wrong with you?" reverberated in his head and he winced. The slight headache he was nurturing apparently didn't appreciate link-speak.

"Not a thing." He sent the reply in a whisper, even his own voice was echoing too loudly now. He felt the wave of her concern rush over him and gave her a weak smile. "It's nothing, pet. I'll be right as rain 'fore you know it."

"And strangely? Not comforted," she drawled. "Might be that great big knot of anxiety I'm picking up."

Spike stared at her, absently chewing the inner wall of his cheek, and Buffy was suddenly struck by how drawn he looked. He hadn't been this pale since the pre-heartbeat days and there were bruise-dark shadows under his eyes. He looked bad. Real bad. Post-Initiative bad.

Why hadn't she noticed sooner?

She was kneeling at his feet before she even realized she was moving, abandoning her tea to take both his hands in hers. "Spike?"

He didn't respond. He just tilted his head to one side and went on staring at her. His eyes were a little glassy and a muscle ticked rhythmically in his jaw as he continued to gnaw at his cheek. Buffy could taste the coppery tang of blood and knew that he'd broken the skin.

"Spike, stop it." She placed the back of her hand against his forehead. He wasn't overly warm, but she could sense that he wasn't quite himself. "You're scaring me."

He blinked at the light touch, coming back from wherever he'd zoned off to. "Oh, sorry love. Didn't realize."

Buffy frowned. They normally didn't do this without asking - tried to maintain a small slice of privacy - but his behavior was giving her the wiggins. And besides, the link didn't go as deep as it did for no reason.

Spike noticed the cute concentration wrinkle between her brows right before he felt her delving into the shielded recesses of his psyche. Jig was up, then. He knew he'd been made when she pursed her lips and gave him her patented Buffy 'look of death'.

"How long?" she ground out.

"'Bout a week. Ten days at most."

Buffy stood and planted her fists on her hips, glaring down at the top of his head. She wished she had her Slayer strength back so she could hit him without injuring himself in the process. "How dare you try and hide this from me!"

Spike actually cringed, ducking his head. "I was just..."

"You've been sick all this time?"

"Been worse the last couple of days," he admitted with a sigh, rubbing the back of his neck with one hand. He sounded miserable. "Mornings mostly. Can't keep anything down..."

It was only as the words were leaving his mouth that the implications hit. His head shot up and his gaze collided with Buffy's. She'd obviously reached the same conclusion, gaping at him in open-mouthed shock.

Morning sickness?

Spike's eyes dropped to stare at her midsection in disbelief. He reached out a tentative hand, the palm hovering over her stomach. He didn't touch her. He didn't have to. "Bloody hell, sunshine..."

"No," she whispered, backing away.

He looked back up, a superior smirk spreading across his face. "Oh yeah," he purred, "Spike gets it right first pop."

Buffy's lips curled. "That is so... Ugh! You're such a pig."

He nodded. "Maybe so. But I'm a Daddy pig."

"What?" She shook her head, retreating even further and folding her arms protectively. "No! Big no! Move it along mister, there's nothing to see - nothing. Zip, zilch, nada..."

Spike's smirk didn't falter in the slightest. He was absolutely certain now, even if she wanted to stay in Denial-land. He rubbed his hands together in anticipation, happier than he'd ever been in his entire existence.

"So," he chirped blithely. "What're we gonna name the Little Nipper?"

The Slayer stared at him, stricken, not dealing at all. Tears welled in the deep green pools of her eyes. "Spike..."

He relented then, getting to his feet and pulling her into his arms. "Hey, come on. Thought this was supposed to be a happy occasion. Time to make with the merry, break out the sodding Champagne and all that celebratory crap."

"I don't understand how this happened," Buffy lamented. He chuckled and she kicked him in the shin. "Not that part, you idiot. The conceptiony part." She butted her forehead against his shoulder. "We've been so careful."

"Oh, that's complete rot and you know it," he snorted. "'Sides, neither've us has ever been the most responsible of sorts, have we?"

Buffy gave him a rueful half-smile. "That's gonna have to change, huh?"

"Just one item in a long list, pet." The vampire lowered himself onto his knees, keeping one arm slung around her hips, and pressed his cheek against her abdomen. "Hey there, Spikelet," he greeted softly. "Alright, yeah?"

Wesley chose that moment to rejoin them at the fire. He took in their unusual positions and frowned. "What on earth are you doing now?"

Spike gave him huge, deliriously happy grin. "Congratulate me!" he ordered, eyes sparkling. "I'm gonna be a Dad!"

The former Watcher seemed to shut down completely. He stopped dead, his eyes flicking back and forth between the two as he tried to process the announcement.

"Good Lord," he finally managed to squeak and collapsed onto a nearby tree stump like his legs could no longer hold him.

"That about sums it up," Buffy commented, playing with the tousled white curls of Spike's hair. He traced indecipherable patterns on her belly with his fingertips, emitting a contented vibe that made her feel all warm and cozy.

"Congratulations!" Fred blurted. She was standing next to Wesley, though none of them had noticed her arrival.

Spike twitched, shoulder muscles rippling beneath his duster. He'd been so engrossed that Fred had actually managed to scare him. "Make some noise when you approach a bloke," he grumbled, eyeing the girl with annoyance. "The old ticker's a tad past warranty. I could have a heart attack or what all, and it wouldn't do to leave the bloody tot an orphan, now, would it?"

Fred was instantly contrite. "Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to holler at you. 'Specially with you bein' delicate 'n all."

Buffy burst out laughing. "Delicate!" she guffawed. "She thinks you're delicate. Poor delicate widdle Spikey!"

Spike sat back on his heels and scowled. "Sod off."

"Hey, watch the language in front of the baby!" Buffy went to cuff his ear, but the enormity of her words finally registered and she froze. "Baby?" Her hands fluttered and clutched at her stomach, an overflow of panicky awe rippling through the link. "Oh God, there's a baby in here! Spike's baby, baby of Spike!"

The vampire was unable to keep the joy from showing on his expressive face. "Hello? Where were you five minutes ago? Always knew you were a bit on the slow side, Slayer. Hope Nipper gets the brains from my branch of the family tree."

"You're going to keep calling it that, aren't you?" Buffy asked resignedly.

Spike ruminated on that for a moment, then shrugged. "Fits, dunnit?"

She rolled her eyes. If there was a nickname to be had, Spike invariably used it. It was a sign of affection thing. If Spike used your actual name, he was either being very serious, or he didn't like you. That was just how it was.

He quirked an eyebrow and effected an exaggerated eye-roll of his own. When she giggled at his antics, he sprang to his feet and threw his arms around her, enveloping them in their own private bubble of happy.

Then he thought of something horrifying, something that made him nauseous all over again. "Hey, Slayer?" he inquired uneasily. "Does this mean Peaches is the Nip's granddad?"

She frowned, processing the logistics. The vamp family connections were sort of convoluted. It made her brain hurt thinking about it. "Um, yeah. I suppose." She grimaced. "Weird much?"

Spike sighed. "Bloody PTB," he muttered. "Just when you think you're gettin' someplace, the wankers set about knockin' you back a peg."

"But, hey, on the bright side," Buffy said, patting her stomach. "Baby of us."

"Oh yeah."

Spike made the simple confirmation sound obscenely intimate. His hands slid down to catch hold of her hips and draw her tighter against him. They kissed softly, lingeringly, retracing well-known and oft-visited territory. When they finally pulled back, it was to gaze lovingly into each other's eyes and drift off into a pleasant sensual fog. Everyone outside their link-sphere was excluded from their perception.

Wesley was in such a stunned funk that it took him a few minutes to remember his original purpose in approaching the couple. "Oh," he said, straightening up. "In light of recent developments, I'd almost..." He cleared his throat. "It seems that in order to lure the Gemel there's to be a tournament in the village."

The Slayer stirred as he spoke. She dragged her attention away from her partner and gave the former Watcher a distracted heavy-lidded look.

"Tournament?" she asked. "What, with like, jousting 'n stuff?"

Wes nodded. "So I'm led to believe." He waved a sheet of papyrus-like parchment in one hand. "According to their advertising material, there are to be several public executions and, uh..." He adjusted his glasses and read aloud from the flyer. "'A match predestined by ancient Pylean lore - the Mighty Groosalugg against the most fearsome Belial'."

"Ooh, now there's name to strike fear in a bloke's heart," Spike scoffed. "Groosalugg. Real boot-shaker that. I'm all a-flutter." He cast a wide-eyed look at Buffy. "Can you feel me tremblin', pet?"

The Slayer ignored him, contemplating instead the fit of her clingy red T-shirt. No sign of a bump yet, just a little bloaty-type swelling. She shrugged and focused back on what Wes was saying. She'd worry about turning into Little Miss Swallowed-a-Basketball later.

Wesley pointed back toward the rebel leader. "Jonah tells me that the Groosalugg is Pylea's undefeated champion. A mythic warrior, if you will. Angel will be fighting for his life."

Spike's lips twisted into a sneer. "'Mythic warrior' my shiny white bum," he said. "Wager the newly parental Chosen Ones could knock him cold." He winked at Buffy.

She grinned up at him, confident that together they could take on the world.

~*[+]*~

Cordelia had come to the conclusion that at some point in the Belial mutating process Angel had lost his mind. There was no other explanation. The way he was acting was so un-Angel.

First of all there was the singing. Well, not so much singing as a kind of groany drone. The guy had serious tune issues, in that he couldn't carry one to save himself. He was apparently taking part in the 'Let's mangle every lovesick ballad in history' sing-along that Lorne was conducting in the adjacent cell. She couldn't hear the green-skinned demon herself of course, not having ears of the super-vamp variety, so she was taking his word at face value.

On top of the singing badness, there was the touching. Any chance he got. He'd brush against her or fool around with her hair. When she called him on it, he'd just smile at her.

That was something else, too, the damn smiling. Slow melty grins that lit up something insidiously wicked in his eyes and made a big puddle of warm pool in her belly. That was on the plus side, though, 'cause at least the warm poolyness drowned the crazed mass of butterflies stirred up by the touching part.

Crazy Angel was getting on her nerves.

"Would you knock it off?" she pleaded. "There is only so much of this I can take. And my taking level is at an all time low."

Crazy Angel did the slow grin thing again, nicely paired with a mock innocent lifting of brow. "Oh, I'm sorry. Am I bothering you?"

"Bother, schmother. Right now I'm all for hating you." Cordelia turned her back on him and curled into a ball in the corner of the cell, shutting him out completely. "Stupid vampire."

Angel's face dropped. He'd pushed it too far. He was such an idiot.

"Cordy?" he called softly, tentatively. "Please, I didn't want to..." His voice cracked a little and he winced. He sounded like a complete wuss. Spike would be laughing his ass off. He sighed and slumped to one side, staring at the tense line of her back. He banged his head against the wall.

"Trying to knock some sense into yourself?"

He blinked. "What?"

Cordelia peered at him over her shoulder, then angled her back against the wall. "You're serious about this love thing, aren't you?"

Angel met her eyes determinedly. "Deadly."

"Uh huh." She looked down at her hands, nervously twisting one of the gaudy rings decorating her fingers. She shot him a glance that was uncharacteristically shy, almost coy. "I didn't mean it. I don't hate you."

"You don't?"

"Nah. Hate's too strong a word. I'm finding you sort of disagreeable at the moment, but you're too nice a guy for an all-encompassing hate."

"Nice?" Angel grimaced. Was this the start of a 'just want to be friends' speech? He didn't think he could deal with one of those right now, especially not from Cordy. He set his jaw. "I'm not nice."

She smiled. "You so are."

"Well, I don't wanna be." He scowled. "I told Buffy and Spike this was gonna happen."

Cordelia arched an artful brow. "You talked to them about me?"

"'Talk to her', they said. 'Do something different', they said." He folded his arms. "What the hell do they know?"

She suppressed a grin at his petulant tone, then tensed as a familiar roar echoed in her head. "Angel..." Her voice was weak, plaintive.

He was across the cell in a heartbeat, one of the stuttering irregular heartbeats that always heralded one of her visions. He managed to slip a hand behind her head just as she was flung backward, saving her from cracking her skull against the stone, and pulled her tight against his chest. He held her as the vision tore it's way through her body, leaving her shuddering in its wake.

As it eased, she clutched at him, sobbing from pain and shock.

"Easy baby," the vampire soothed. "It's okay. I've got you." He stroked her hair, tears shimmering in his own eyes. He hated that she went through this for him - because of him. "I've got you."

Cordelia stared up at him, her hands curled around his biceps. "Promise me you won't fight," she implored, tearstains glistening like quicksilver on her cheeks. Angel stared at her blankly and she became more insistent, her fingers digging into his flesh. "Promise me!"

"I can't do that, Cordy. Not until you tell me what you saw."

"Their champion guy," she whispered. "He's going to kill you."

A/N: And now a word from our sponsor...
Okay, to everyone who's been waiting for new chapters - please stick with me! I have never posted a story piece by piece like this before and I'm finding it a little difficult to stay focused. My last fic was five months of hard work and fully completed before I put it up. I am definitely going somewhere with this story and I have the rest of it basically planned out. Believe it or not, I have the beginning of the NEXT one already written - the third of the now-trilogy is called 'True Colors' and will be based entirely around the birth of Buffy and Spike's baby. I'm thinking of putting up the first couple of chapters soon.
Stay tuned ... Dee.