58

By the end of the day, Rose was frustrated and working towards furious. Every time she had tried to find out about progress on the prophecy, Wesley handed her yet another administrative chore. She had enough on her desk now to keep her busy for a week. She was either going to have to curb her curiosity or have some serious words with the person who was giving Wes his orders.

Being preoccupied, she rounded a corner and ran right into someone.

"Hey, watch those sharp corners," a friendly voice cautioned. He stopped at looked at who had collided with him. "And I'll watch the soft curves." A sudden smile lit up his face, and he started singing, pulling Rose into a dance step with him. "Just Rosie and me and baby makes three, we're happy in my blue heaven."

Rose giggled, releasing much of her bad mood, even though she'd been enjoying it, in a perverse way. "I thought the name in the song was Mollie, not Rosie," she remarked.

"Artistic license, blossom," Lorne said. "Those pills taking care of the upset tummy?"

Rose nodded. "And by the way, according to doctors Spike and Angel, baby makes four," she informed him.

"When you do something, you do it with style, don't you, Rosebud?" Lorne looked her over. "I must say that it agrees with you though. I've never seen you look more scrumptious."

Rose blushed and said, "Says you. I think I'm starting to get fat already."

"Mommikins, there are some societies that think that a woman looks her absolute best at about eight and a half months gone," Lorne replied. "Personally, I can't wait till you start bulging a bit. You're going to be the hottest dish in the o.b.'s waiting room."

"If I didn't love you, Lorne..," Rose warned.

"Picked out the godparents yet?" Lorne asked hopefully. "Because my calendar is free for you and yours any day, sweetie."

"I'll have to talk it over with Spike, of course," Rose hedged, thinking that she would also have to ask Spike what godparents were. "But I'll certainly mention your name."

Lorne shrugged nonchalantly. "Even if you don't make if official, doll-baby, I hope you know that I'd do anything for you and your two little angels."

"But they're not Angel's," Rose said, missing the point. "They're Spike's."

&&&&&&&

Angel and Spike forgot to stop arguing when they hit the apartment door that night.

"Look you big wuss," Spike remarked with a scowl. "They're going to die anyway unless you go to the bother of force feeding them or some such nonsense. My way, and I know you may have trouble dealing with the concept, is actually more merciful. Not that those wankers deserve any mercy."

Angel sighed. "Spike I cannot condone killing helpless prisoners," he said. "It's a matter of principle."

"Stuff your principles," Spike muttered. "Fat bloody lot of good it's done us. Those sons-of-bitches were going to kidnap or maybe even kill my.., oh, hello, sweetheart, I didn't see you there."

"Obviously not," Rose replied, rising up off the sofa. "Can't you two ever find anything you agree on?"

"You mean like how absolutely adorable you look in those hatching jackets?" Spike teased. His smile was replaced by a look of shock as he neatly (and gently) blocked the punch she threw at him. "Hey, what was that all about?"

"I swore I was going to hit the next person who used that word," Rose said darkly. "I've heard it so many times today that the nausea pills are starting to lose their efficacy."

Spike looked helplessly at Angel, unsure what to do or say.

Angel shrugged. "Don't ask me," he said. "I'm just glad it was you."

Rose turned on Angel. "I have a few words for you anyway," she snapped. "Why did you give Wesley orders to..," She had to stop and think a moment. ".., keep me out of the loop concerning the prophecy?"

Oh boy. Angel had been expecting something like this, but he couldn't say that he was actually prepared for it. Like in having an answer that Rose would accept without biting his head off. He noticed Spike sidling towards the room he and Rose shared. "Where do you think you're going, William?"

"Just thought I'd change out of the work clothes," Spike said, way too nonchalantly. "You know, slip into something more comfortable." There was the ghost of his usual smirk, but he still hadn't stopped moving.

"You're in on this, aren't you?" Rose accused. "Listen, I helped created that damned prophecy, not to mention the fact that it's at least partially about me, and I think I have a right to know what it says."

Spike, looking a little shamefaced, came back to join the other two, and it did not escape Rose's attention that they both were more than an arm's length away from her.

"I don't hear any explanations yet," Rose prompted. She smiled sweetly. "And I intend to make life exceedingly unpleasant, for both of you, until I do."

"She didn't used to have a mean streak like this," Angel remarked to Spike. "What have you done to her?"

"Wasn't me," Spike protested. "I think it may be all the hormones and what-not."

Rose stood there and glared at both of them. "Quit being so.., so.., male, and tell me why I've been excluded from everything."

"Well, it was an 'executive' decision," Spike hemmed. "Out of my league."

"Like you didn't put your two cents worth in," Angel flared. "The way you always do." He saw that Rose was still fuming. "Rose, the decision wasn't made lightly. There has to be a reason that you don't remember that prophecy."

"I don't remember any of them that haven't already happened," Rose replied. "It had to be that way, in case I let something slip. If that's all it is..,"

"It isn't, luv," Spike muttered. "But you've got a lot going on now, and we didn't think you needed the extra worry." He tried testing the waters, as it were and closed the gap between them. When Rose didn't try to hit him again, he made so bold as to put his arms around her, and she snuggled against him the way she usually did.

"I'm still mad at both of you," she mumbled into Spike's shoulder. "When are you going to stop protecting me from everything?"

"Don't see it happening, myself," Spike replied. "I like protecting you, babe. It gives me a reason to get out of bed in the morning."

"I know you're feeling a little overprotected at the moment," Angel offered carefully. "But don't you think it just might be worth it? For your children?" He figured that if playing that card didn't work, then they were well and truly screwed.

An unintelligible murmur came from the region of Spike's shoulder.

"Did you catch any of that?" he asked Spike.

"Oh I caught it all right," Spike answered. He looked down at the chestnut head cuddled against his shoulder. "And you shouldn't be using language like that in front of the kids, pet."

&&&&&&

Kraj fussed over M'rek, making sure that his Lord looked his resplendent best. "Truly you are a magnificent sight, my Lord," he murmured. "The demons will be in utter awe of your splendor."

"And you say that these demons look like the lesser creatures we use for our menial work?" M'rek asked, brushing Kraj aside to admire himself in a mirror.

"Essentially, oh dread Lord," the servant replied. "Not perhaps quite as large as our menials. At least, not all of them. I understand there is more variance of feature."

"Then mayhap we shall actually be able to tell them apart," M'rek remarked. "They all look the same to me. Of course, it should not be too difficult to spot a female preparing to whelp."

"It is still early on in the gestational period," Kraj informed him. "It may not yet be noticeable."

"Were she one of our own kind," M'rek mused. "I would say look to the eyes. There is always a certain glow in the eyes of a pregnant bitch. But the lesser beings may well be lacking in the finer feelings."

"The ruse I have prepared to give us entry will be good until the time of the new race's emergence," Kraj offered, straightening the hem of M'rek's pleated robe. "Ample time to determine which one is the vessel and bring her under your Lordship's most gracious rule. May this humble one ask if your magnificence intends to keep the vessel alive after she has whelped?"

M'rek considered for a moment. "Perhaps," he allowed. "Certainly until the pups are weaned. And perhaps even after that, if she proves to be amusing. Have the scholars yet determined exactly where the vessel originated?"

Kraj shook his head, bowing it nearly to the floor as he did so. "The only mention made of the vessel's origin is that she shall come from beyond worlds. But the prophecy fails to specify which worlds."

"Perhaps because it means all worlds," M'rek supplied. "Have none of you considered that possibility?"

"But what else could there be?" Kraj whined. "If my Lord has wisdom to impart, please enlighten this poor fool that he may better serve you."

"I am not sure myself," M'rek admitted. "But it should give the scholars something to think about. See that they do, Kraj."

"It shall be as you command, dread Lord," Kraj vowed. "Is my Lord now ready to depart to the dimension of the demons to visit this 'law firm'?"

&&&&&&&&

Rose's ruffled feathers had at least for the moment been smoothed down, but every once in a while Angel saw the hint of a sulk when he looked her way during a quiet moment.

Not that there were many quiet moments. After dinner (Angel insisted on helping Rose with the dishes, despite the promise she had made to Spike), they started arguing over names. All three of them. If they were going to have the discussion in front of him, Angel felt free to offer his input.

"Sweetheart, you can't just use names of people we know," Spike argued. "For one thing, we'll have several boys names, and almost none for girls. And while I think the world of Fred, I'm not saddling any kid of mine with Winifred." Seeing the argumentative gleam in Rose's eye, he added, "And please don't even suggest Harmony."

"You're very good at shooting down my ideas," Rose pouted. "But I haven't heard anything constructive from you."

"Cecily's a pretty name," Angel remarked, just to get a rise out of Spike.

"You obnoxious git," Spike snarled. "You are right off the list for godparents."

"That was something I was going to ask you about," said Rose, temporarily sidetracked. "What is a godparent? I know it can't be what it sounds like, but Lorne would like to be one."

Spike groaned. "And probably just about everybody else in this sodding law firm."

"Don't swear in front of the children," Rose admonished sweetly.

&&&&&&&&&&

"I hate these formal affairs," Wesley remarked, tying his tie. "Is that straight, Rose?"

"It is, and you look very nice, Wesley," Rose replied. "And I'm sure that Fred will think so too. Explain to me exactly what we are doing?"

"Wining and dining an important new client," Wesley answered with a grimace. He couldn't believe that he'd once worn a tie as a matter of course. The damn thing felt like a noose around his neck. "Mandatory attendance by all department heads."

"But I'm not a department head," Rose pointed out. "Why do I have to be there?"

"Because Spike is a department head," Wesley said. "And you're the best person to see that he doesn't irretrievably offend the client."

"I think you underestimate Spike sometimes," Rose murmured thoughtfully. "He can be quite diplomatic when the situation calls for it."

"It must just be with you," the Watcher commented. "I have yet to see the slightest hint of diplomacy from Spike myself." He adjusted the tie again.

"Any special instructions?" Rose asked.

"Just keep Spike out of trouble," Wes begged. "If you can manage that, I'll personally put you in for a bonus."

&&&&&&&

M'rek haughtily examined the assembled, humans, they called them here. And of course, the souled one, he ran the business. There were even females present. Demons had strange customs, putting females in positions of power. He allowed the souled one, Angel, was the name, he believed, take him down the line of hirelings and introduce them.

Angel had saved his personal clique for last. "Charles Gunn, our chief attorney," he said. "Winifred Burkle, head of research and development. Wesley Wyndam-Pryce, head of research, and Spike," he finished lamely. "In charge of special operations."

M'rek noticed a female standing close to the pale-furred one that had been presented to him last. "What of her?" he asked.

"That's Rose Powers, she's in Mr. Wyndam-Pryce's department," Angel explained. It sounded a little thin, since she wasn't a department head, but how else was he going to introduce her? Spike's main squeeze?

M'rek suffered himself to be removed to the dining table, and found that he was seated far from the female that had for some reason caught his interest. He hoped that that worthless scum, Kraj, hovering near, was taking notes on all the assembled females.

The small talk was tedious in the extreme, for both sides, since the cultural differences were so vast. At last, the meal was over, and the mingling began. M'rek found himself speaking with the researcher. He recognized the scholarly bearing, so perhaps he would have the information M'rek desired.

Wesley noticed the client staring at Rose. "Was there something I could help you with?" he asked politely enough, even though he was rude enough to leave off the title.

M'rek nodded towards Rose. "If my eyes do not deceive me," he murmured. "I believe that bitch is going to whelp, is she not?"

"She is pregnant, yes," Wesley answered slowly. "And if your Lordship will take a little friendly advice, please don't refer to her as a bitch in front of Spike."

"The puny little male that almost never leaves her side?" M'rek's nose went in the air, and he gave a short, barking laugh. "What could such as he do to me?"

"You really wouldn't want to know," Wesley muttered.