EPISODE TEN
"Baby, come back!"

Spike was sprawled on the ottoman seat, rubbing at his breastbone and scowling darkly. Even though it had been several hours earlier, he was still slightly charred around the edges from the destruction of the Aftertime Creations warehouse. Soot dusted the tips of his hair and the tip of his nose, and the piquant smell of smoke lingered around him like cologne.

"Peanuts now is it?" he muttered cryptically. "Stupid bint should know better. Bleedin' menace is what she is."

Cordelia sat down beside him. "Talking to yourself, huh?" she asked brightly. "Anything interesting come up in the conversation?"

Apparently the blonde vampire hadn't heard her coming and he recoiled, startled by her sudden appearance. His head snapped back and every muscle in his body went taut. He eyed her warily for a moment, then blushed and glanced away. "Umm... No, nothin'."

"Doesn't look like nothing." Cordelia surprised herself by reaching out and placing her hand over his where it was still worrying his chest. "Are you in pain?"

Spike froze when she made contact, eyes widening in consternation. "No." He brushed her hand away and edged a few inches to his left, wanting desperately to distance himself. Girl was too perceptive for her own good, something that had to be part of that newfangled Warrior soul of hers 'cause she hadn't been much of an empathic sort previously.

"Angel told me what's going on," she said. "You know, with Buffy."

"Did he? No secrets then? Nice for you that he's all open book like."

"Yeah, it is. Maybe you should try it sometime."

Spike snorted. "Don't go stickin' your nose in, missy. My private business has nothin' to do with you."

"See, that's where you're wrong."

He raised his brows at that, curious but not really encouraging her to expand on the statement. She did anyway.

"Here's the deal. Angel and me, we're family now. And because he's your Sire, he's got this whole protective thing going on." Spike opened his mouth to protest and she waved a hand to shush him. "No, he does. Believe me. He's exactly the same with the other one."

Once again, she had refused to say Drusilla's name and Spike had to bite his tongue to keep from commenting on it. So what if the girl had issues with Dru? Wasn't like he could throw stones.

"In a weird-ass way, all that kinda means you're a part of my family now, too. I'm just trying to be the supportive Step-Mom."

"Step-Sire," Spike corrected blandly, more touched by her declaration than he wanted to let on.

"I like mine better. Sire's such a guy word."

"Horse word actually, those and bunch of other domestic animals. Bandied about for pedigree purposes mostly, stud farms and the like."

"Okay, I did not need to hear that." Cordelia made a gagging sound. "Big EWW to that imagery."

Spike sighed. "So, you goin' anywhere with this buddy-buddy routine, or you just out to annoy me to death?"

"Judging from what Angel had to say, I won't need to. You're gonna stubborn yourself there first."

"Oh. I get it. Sent you out here, din't he? Figured you'd appeal to my softer side."

"Watch your mouth, buster. There was no sending of any kind. I'm not exactly one of Angel's obedient minions. This was all my idea." She paused, bewildered. "You have a softer side?"

He let that slide and made a show of peering suspiciously around the lobby. "Surprised you've not got that green bloke with the horns out here as well. Lurkin' about. Tryin' to clap his beady ears on my vocal vibes..."

"Lorne's on tour."

That produced an encore of the raised-eyebrow routine. "He tours? With who, Ringling Brothers? Barnum and sodding Bailey? Thought freakshows were illegal nowadays."

"Would you shelve the self-defensive quip-a-thon for a sec? We're trying to help you."

"No. You're all gangin' up is what you're doing. All set to push me in the right direction, make Spike do the proper thing. Sorry kitten, but this is one vamp who doesn't like to be pushed." He was up and off in a flash.

"Alright. Fine." Cordy flung her hands up. "Do what you like."

"I will."

She waited until he was partway up the stairs before speaking again. "You really don't remember what Doyle told you, huh?"

Spike spun around, pinning her with those intense winter-sky eyes of his. "What's that?"

"After Pylea. After that whole 'Hey demon-Cordy, feel free to boink Angel anytime you want, he's easy!' speech."

The blonde vamp struggled against a threatening smile and won by the barest of margins. He leant one hip against the banister and crossed his arms. "Easy, eh?"

"So very, VERY," Cordelia revealed candidly. "Guy's definitely making up for lost time, let me tell you. Take yesterday for an example, he..." She tapered off and shook herself slightly, cheeks flushing. "Hey! Remember the part where I was talking about Doyle?"

Spike smirked. "Believe I've a vague recollection of his being mentioned right before the chit-chat got interesting. You gonna keep goin' with that or -?"

She rolled her eyes. "And back on topic... My brain was sorta going all kaplooey at the time, but I can remember him telling you and Buffy that you'd have to stay strong. As a couple."

He frowned, wandering back down a few steps. "That right? Can't say as it rings any bells."

Cordy grimaced, and stared at her hands. "Look. Spike. It's pretty obvious that Angel and I aren't gonna be doing the whole picket fence thing. We're not going to be playing house and churning out little army of champions. I'm not a hundred percent happy about it, but that's the way it's got to be." She looked back up at him, as sincere as she'd ever been. "You've got the golden opportunity here, a real shot at the prize, and suddenly your aim's gone off. I can't understand why."

"Well, when I find out, you'll be the next I tell." Spike sat down right there on the stairs, rubbing a weary hand across his face. "I was so bloody certain it was all Buffy's doing, but the more I..."

He paused, and both he and Cordelia lifted their heads, turning synchronously toward the other staircase.

Angel came thumping down it a moment later. "I've got it."

"What? A bad case of brood-itis?" Spike tipped his chin slyly at Cordy. "Reckon it makes him especially scowly this time of day, yeah?"

The older vampire didn't acknowledge the blonde's gibe. "There's nothing wrong with the link."

Spike bolted to his feet. "There bloody well is too!"

"No, there isn't. Wes..."

"You pulled Junior in? When did you get such a sodding blabbermouth?"

"...Was asking about the baby earlier, and it suddenly hit me. During these episodes of yours, the heartbeat doesn't stop. It speeds up."

"What's your point? Either way it's a bleedin' painful way to go."

Angel sighed. "I realize it's difficult, but could you stop being a jerk for a minute and think about what I'm saying?"

"Hmm..." Spike tilted his head, tapping one finger against his cheek in an exaggerated thoughtful pose, then his eyes widened. "Oh. Oh, bloody hell," he whispered. "Bloody buggering hell."

Cordelia was on the edge of her seat, intrigued by the abrupt change in Spike's attitude. "Can I be the first to say, what the huh?"

Angel allowed himself a small smile, satisfied that he'd instigated a breakthrough. "I'm not sure of the specifics yet, but I think that during the attacks, Spike's somehow tapping into the baby's heartbeat. My guess is that the contact is actually filtered through Buffy."

"Spike's linked to Buffy, and Buffy's physically linked to the baby." Cordy nodded. "That makes a twisted kind of sense since he's still getting her indigestion and stuff."

Angel plopped down next to her, absently reaching for her hand and holding it as he watched Spike pace back and forth on the landing like a caged animal. The boy was a ticking time bomb; you could almost see the fuse burning. "Wait for it," he murmured quietly.

"Wait for what?" she hissed back, only to startle at the sharp sound of glass breaking.

Spike had punched through the ornate panes of the door in his frustration and now stood with his back to his audience, staring at his bleeding knuckles, fingers clenching and flexing rhythmically.

"You're gonna have to pay for that, you know," Angel said coolly.

"Take it out of my bloody allowance," Spike growled over his shoulder. He raised a foot onto the stairs, all set to stalk back up the flight in a frustrated huff, when his momentum was interrupted by a sudden onslaught from the link so powerful it sent him reeling backward.

The vampire's heavy boots crunched across the fragmented glass as he stumbled, ultimately collapsing onto the lobby's patterned linoleum.

Angel was instantly by his side, crouching down to rest a hand on his shoulder. Cordelia hovered behind him, a solicitous shadow in designer jeans.

"Is this like what happened before?" she asked. "'Cause yikes!"

The older vampire shook his head, observing the tremors that wracked Spike's otherwise still form. Weirdly, his heartbeat remained strong and steady. "No. This is... different."

Spike abruptly jerked into a sitting position, mouth opened in a silent scream, fighting blindly against Angel's restraining grip. His eyes were wild, deep blue shot through with unnatural slivers of green and gold. The agonized cry that finally tore from his throat it was almost unrecognizable as human, raw and savage...

"BUFFY!"

~[*]~

The Slayer's head snapped up and her captors all took an unwitting step backward, startled by the maelstrom in her eyes. Yellow battling against green with faint flashes of blue.

"Back off, monkey boy," she snarled to the closest of them.

"Okey-doke. See? This is me backing off." Andrew did just that, shuffling in reverse gear until he bumped into the wall. His eyes darted around at the others, gauging their reactions, and then returned to stare disbelievingly at Buffy. She returned his gaze, her lips curved in a feral smile, teeth bared and oddly fang-like. It was really disturbing. "I don't like this," he mumbled.

Warren shot him a derisive glance. "Well, DUH!"

"Hey, this kidnapping thing was your idea. No one was supposed to get hurt."

"Its kidnapping, genius! There's a certain level of violence associated with committing felony crimes. Besides, does she look like she's hurt?"

Andrew looked.

Buffy was pacing tiger-like along the bars of the cell they'd put her in, back and forth, steady and watchful. Xander lay in an unconscious heap behind her, slumped against the rear wall. He'd been hit with the same high-level dosage of Chloroform they'd used on the Slayer and hadn't stirred at all except to let out an occasional snore.

Andrew cringed; knowing that what he was about to say would only end with him being berated for sympathetic tendencies. "She's a helpless having-a-baby-woman, Warren, we shouldn't be doing this to her."

"She's Annulet, you whining putz. She could kick our asses from this dimension to the next if she was at her full strength."

"We get that," Jonathon finally spoke up, dredging an ounce of courage from some disused inner compartment. "Believe me. Hence the cowering in fear part. What we don't get so much is the freaky swirling eyeballs, not to mention the unwarranted name-calling. I mean, what the hell?"

Warren pinched his lips between his thumb and forefinger, narrowed gaze moving silently from one to the other, before coming to rest on Buffy and staying there. It was difficult to determine whether he was thinking really hard or about to erupt in a fit of temper. Neither was an appealing option. "It's gotta have something to do with the Nexus," he finally mused, more to himself than to the others. "Her connection with Falchion is trying to reassert itself. Fascinating, really."

"Nice impersonation of Mage, dude, but that's not gonna get us anywhere is it?" Jonathon said sourly.

"Mage would know exactly what to do here, wouldn't he?" Warren smiled, though not in a particularly nice way. "Maybe we should go and pick him up, too? Get ourselves the full set."

"Okay, that's not at the top of my list of fun things to try with all-knowing wizards," Andrew put in warily. He looked fretfully back at the Slayer, his eyes widening as he saw fresh mottling on the knuckles of her left hand. It spread even as he watched, blossoming into a pattern of vivid red lines, like gashes but without actual broken skin. "Uh, Warren? What's wrong with her?"

"What?"

"Her hand. Look at her hand."

Warren stared, Jonathon peering around his shoulder like a cub sheltering behind its mother. "The Nexus again," he finally concluded. "Falchion probably just picked up a nasty injury."

"Huh." Andrew blinked. "That's pretty cool, I guess. And it is kinda lucky that we picked her up now, 'cause that last upload from AI said that her power loss would only be a temporary thing. Like a break in transmission."

"I hate those," Jonathon observed. "I lost a half episode of 'Enterprise' last time the local station did that."

Warren and Andrew nodded in heartfelt commiseration, only to jump when Buffy let out a gut-wrenching howl.

"Holy crap!" Jonathon blurted, one hand clutching his chest. "She almost gave me a heart attack!"

All three watched with eyes like saucers as she grabbed onto the bars with both hands, squeezing them until her knuckles went white and the metal warped around her fists. Instead of pulling them apart and escaping like they feared she would, she kept holding on and sank down into a crouch, rocking ever so slightly on the balls of her feet, tousled blonde curls hanging down over her face. After a moment, her head lifted and she stared at them with eyes that were now a pure demonic yellow.

"You morons have no idea how much trouble you're in," she hissed through gritted teeth. "I think I just went into labor."

~[*]~

Angel could taste blood, but he couldn't quite tell if it was from his split lip or his newly broken nose. Next time Spike needed to be moved, he was getting Cordy to do it.

The trip from the floor to the corner sofa had been brief but painfully violent. The younger vampire had fought every step of the way, kicking and swearing, making repeated breaks for the door and yelling Buffy's name, before another mysterious attack had finally taken him down. The whole production seemed to have exhausted him for now, so Angel was counting his blessings.

"He's getting worse," he commented.

Spike groaned, the sound rumbling up from somewhere deep in his chest, powerful enough to make the sofa vibrate. His eyes were open and unfocused, flickering through the same triad of colors over and over.

Blue... Green... Gold...

Cordy glanced up from dabbing Spike's forehead with a damp cloth. "Gee, ya think?"

Angel tried to pout at her sarcastic tone, but ended up wincing instead. Damn lip. "We can't wait for the others to check in. We have to get him back to Buffy now."

"I know." Cordy sighed, returning to her forehead swabbing duties. "If this is link-based..."

"There's nothing else it could be." Angel turned and headed for the office. "I'll leave a note."

Both front and back doors opened simultaneously.

Krevlornswath of the Deathwok Clan, lately of the Pylean dimension, burst through the first in a tornado of luggage. He was resplendent in a canary yellow suit and blue paisley print shirt that went stunningly with his green skin.

The rest of the Angel Investigations team entered more sedately from the other and halted on seeing the situation, taking in Spike's lifeless body and Angel's battered face.

"Oh good gracious," Fred gasped, hands covering her face in horror.

Wesley put a consoling arm around the young scientist's shoulders. "I'm sure it's not as bad as it looks," he murmured. He didn't sound at all convincing.

Lorne hadn't yet noticed anything.

"Hi-de-ho!" he trilled. "Behold the triumphant return of-" He finally paused to take in the tableau. "-The vamp with kaleidoscope eyes." He dumped his travel paraphernalia and hustled the rest of the way inside. "What in the name of Tarkna is going on?"

"Sorry, but that's one story way to long to get into right now," Cordy brushed her hair back from her face and looked over at the other arrivals. "Tell me you've got news."

"We have news," Dru responded smartly. Despite her tone, there was genuine concern in her eyes when she moved close enough to see the real extent of Spike's condition. She whimpered and started to wring her hands, slender fingers twisting together. "Dear William needs to be returning home."

"Our thoughts exactly," Angel told her, shrugging into his coat. "What happened on the van-tracking front? Any leads?"

Gunn gave Dru's hand-wringing performance a worried glance, then pulled a notebook from the rear pocket of his jeans. "First couple on the list were a bust, but lucky number three?" He made a face that could have been fear or disgust. "Warren Meers. Judging by the amount of geek-boy stuff in his apartment, the guy's got some major, major problems; least of which being the fact that he lives with two other fairy-lovin' types. A Jonathon Levinson, and an Andrew... somebody. Couldn't find any more ID than that, but he was definitely a resident. Half the food was labeled as his."

Cordy climbed to her feet. "What was the first roomies name again?"

Gunn flipped back through his notes. "Jonathon Lev-"

"Jonathon Levinson." Cordy's upper lip curled in a contemptuous sneer. "That little weasel!"

"You know him?" Angel sounded surprised, then frowned suspiciously. "How do you know him?" His tone turned querulous. "Is he one of your old boyfriends?"

Cordelia looked aghast. "Okay, firstly, a world of gross! The guy is like three feet tall, all of which is pure, unadulterated nerd-meat. Secondly, I know him because he's a native of the Hellmouth and a fellow graduate of the late, great Sunnydale High."

"It would be quite feasible, then, to assume that he'd be familiar with Buffy," Wesley noted. "Which would also mean..."

The former Watcher was interrupted by Spike's growl, a sound like rolling thunder accompanied this time by his bolting upright. He looked around confusedly, swaying a little where he sat, fingers pressing to his temple. "Bu-" His voice cracked and he swallowed painfully before trying again. "Buffy?"

"For God's Sake, lie down!" Cordelia pushed at his chest. "You'll fall over again."

Spike seized hold of her wrist in a move that was nothing but a lightning-fast blur, his fingers exceptionally pale against her tanned skin. "Stop. Pushing. ME," he snarled, pressing hard enough to hurt.

There was no recognition in his face, and he tilted his head, dark brows knitting together as though he was trying to puzzle out who she was and why he'd grabbed her.

She blinked at down him, startled by his strength and suddenly more scared of him than she'd ever been. The chaos in his eyes was especially spooky at close range, sucking her in like a whirlpool.

Angel loomed over his Childe, furious. "Let her go!"

"No." With her free hand, and without once dropping Spike's hypnotic gaze, Cordelia reached out and intercepted Angel's tightly clenched fist. "No. It's okay."

He stepped closer anyway, willing to knock Spike silly despite her assurances, then paused when he noticed that her own eyes had begun to change, going milky white with what she laughingly called her vision-vision. "Cordy?"

He got no answer. They just continued to stare blindly at each other, neither seeing who they were actually looking at.

Lorne tiptoed over to hiss in Angel's ear. "You know, there are enough vibrations in here to make Beach Boys a certain shade of envious." He grimaced at the oblivious duo and gave a melodramatic shudder. "Though they're not all the good kind. Yeesh!"

Drusilla materialized at Lorne's opposite shoulder. She'd gone way past vague concern and was becoming distressed. "William needs to go home!" she insisted, much more vehemently than before. "Now, now, now. Sweet baby boy come blow away..."

Gunn pulled her aside. "Okay, baby, that's enough with the hoogity-boogity."

Lorne turned to Angel, crimson eyes alight. "'Baby'?" he mouthed.

Angel ignored him. He was too busy resenting the fact that there was some mystical communication going on between Cordy and Spike that he had no part in. He hunched his shoulders and glowered at them.

There had been countless times over the years, times just like this one, when he wished that he'd staked the other vamp the first time he'd dared to provoke him; an entire five minutes after he'd been raised. Spike had been cheerfully keeping up that provocation every five minutes since, for the last century, and yet still remained stake-free. Why was that? What the hell was so special about him?

"There's just the three of them," Cordelia reported in the distracted manner of someone trying to recount a plotline while the film was still playing. "Jonathon and Warren and that other guy. They've got Buffy in some kind of..." Her mouth dropped open in astonishment "Oh my God, she's HUGE!"

Spike made an inarticulate warning noise, not appreciating the bluntness of her observation. He was evidently getting the vision as well. That or she was somehow getting it through him.

"Sorry, sorry. It just threw me for a bit. Hang on..." Cordy concentrated harder. "Uh, she's in some kind of cage thingy... A jail cell or -? No. It looks more like the old Sunnydale Army Barracks. Xander's there, too." She came back to reality with a disgusted huff. "What the hell would anyone want him for?"

"Collateral damage, perhaps?" Wesley speculated. "He was very likely with her when she was taken."

Spike had become lucid again at the same time Cordelia had. He perched on the very edge of the sofa, focus regained, eyes clear crystalline blue.

"Bloody hell, let's get on with it," he grumbled, climbing awkwardly to his feet and taking a second to find his center of gravity. "Looks like the Watcher got it right for once," he muttered. "Wonders never cease, eh?"

"Which Watcher?" Fred asked, so attentive to his every movement it was as though she was cataloguing them for future reference.

"That sodding git Rupert." Spike inhaled sharply, held it, and then let the breath back out in a long, steady puff before continuing. "Said that I'd be getting the Slayer's labor pains."

"Buffy's in labor?" Wesley exchanged a significant look with Fred. It appeared they had discussed this very possibility.

"Yeah. Figured he was spouting a lot of old bollocks. I mean, its not like I've got the proper bits, is it?"

Wes didn't quite know what to say to that and his expression showed as much.

"She's too bloody early, in any case." Spike shuffled off toward the door. "Contractions aren't that close together yet so maybe I can get back to Sunnydale before..."

"You're not driving in that condition," Cordelia scolded and turned pleading eyes on her fellow Warrior. "Angel, tell him."

"I'll drive."

Spike looked indignant. "Not my car you won't."

"So, I'll drive mine." Angel gave him an evil smile. "You can ride shotgun."

"I'll ride shotgun," Cordelia put in. "If you think I'm going to miss this, you're nuttier than Drusilla."

The vampiress in question glared. "It may've escaped your notice, dear precious, but I'm no longer the nut here. P'rhaps your own mind has gone soft from receiving the visions?"

Cordelia snorted. "As if."

"If only," Dru shot back.

Spike paused at the doorway long enough to sigh and rest his forehead against the frame. "Dru, love, where are you pullin' all these names from?"

Angel frowned. He hadn't noticed that she'd said anything amiss. Except that she had... "You called Cordy 'dear precious'."

Cordelia's eyes narrowed into suspicious slits. "Like 'Jewel' precious?" she asked. "Or like Gollum precious? Which would be, by incredible coincidence, nutty."

Wesley's flint-like gaze darted from one woman to the other. "Is this really a suitable time for this confrontation?"

"Aargh!!" Spike's face contorted in pain, his forehead thumping against the doorframe. He flashed them a wide-eyed, multicolored look of panic before his knees buckled and he pitched sideways, out the door and out of sight.

They heard a muffled thud and a groan.

"Think we ought to take that as a no," Fred observed dryly.


TBC...