67

M'rek did not want to show too much interest in the bitch as yet, lest she be the wrong one, though his very bones screamed that she was. But best to proceed cautiously. No hurry. Kraj, the sniveling little worm, had informed him that these humans had an indecently prolonged gestational period.

M'rek beckoned the ever present toady to his side. "Kraj, strike up a conversation with the female," he ordered.

"Upon a particular subject, most glorious M'rek?" Kraj whimpered.

M'rek shook his head. "Merely engage her in small talk," he instructed. "Should she prove to be the vessel, it might well behoove us to have gained her trust beforehand."

"Most excellent thinking, my Lord." Kraj bowed. "I shall attend to it immediately."

&&&&&&&

"Angel, I thought all the division heads were supposed to be here," Rose remarked. Spike had left her in Angel's care, albeit reluctantly, to deal with a call from his department. "So where's Lorne?"

Angel pointed his chin towards M'rek. "His high and mightyness professes an allergy to Pyleans. We had to take the diplomatic approach." Before Angel could elaborate further, or Rose could ask another question, his attention was claimed by someone else who seemed to feel a pressing need to speak to him.

&&&&&&&&&

Spike, now free, saw Rose temporarily on her own, and moved to fill in the gap. He knew the clients were supposed to have checked out alright, but he also knew that someone wanted Rose. Someone besides him. In a crowd like this he didn't want her left alone for a moment.

Spike and Kraj reached Rose nearly simultaneously. Spike's arm automatically went around her waist, and the possessive gesture was not lost on Kraj.

"She belongs to you then?" he asked Spike.

Just in time, Spike remembered Rose's warning to mind his manners, no matter how offensive he found their off-dimension visitors. "In a manner of speaking," he said cautiously. Didn't want to get Rose into a pet either.

Kraj, wanting to ingratiate himself, something he was generally quite good at, forgot the local customs for one disastrous moment. "She's a lovely bitch."

Before Rose could so much as groan, Spike had gone all wrinkly and laid Kraj out on the floor. He was about to pick him up so he could hit him again, but found that he was hampered by Rose clinging to his arm for dear life. And a crowd was starting to gather, including the ponce, making a beeline right for him, and so was the high muckety-muck client.

"What in the hell is going on here?" Angel sounded pissed off and then some, but his glare was evenly divided between Rose and Spike. She was supposed to be keeping his grandchilde out of trouble.

Spike glared back. "Sodding bastard called Rose a bitch," he snarled. "Clients or no, I'm not putting up with that."

"My servant has given offense?" M'rek asked mildly.

"Bloody well right he did," Spike snapped. Rose was still tugging on his arm, trying to pull him back away from the canine-like demons.

"Spike, he didn't mean anything by it," Rose said. She gave up pulling at him, useless anyway, he stood there like a rock. "It doesn't mean any more than it would if Angel called me a woman. Cultural differences, love."

Spike had a sinking sensation in his gut, one of those little 'oh shit' moments when one realizes that one has truly gone and put one's foot in it. "Oh bugger," he muttered.

"My fault entirely," soothed Kraj, rising and wiping the blood away from his muzzle with a paw. "I completely forgot the cultural context myself. It was never in my mind to insult your female in any way."

"You are a bumbling incompetent, Kraj," M'rek remarked. He turned to Angel. "My sincere apologies for this unfortunate incident. If you like, I will have the hide flogged from his miserable body."

"I think he's already more than paid for his mistake," Angel replied. "And unlike some people, he at least had the manners to apologize." He gave Spike another dirty look. "Do something about your face, Spike, some people might actually be scared by it."

&&&&&&&&

"Covered myself with glory on that one didn't I, luv?" Spike asked ruefully as they made their way back to the apartment. They had been excused early, ostensibly on account of Rose's delicate condition, but it was plain as day to Spike why they were being sent off. Because he'd screwed up royally.

"All in a good cause," Rose murmured comfortingly. "My lovely white knight charging in to save my virtue."

Spike grinned. She had every right to be mad at him. After she'd given him that careful lecture on minding what he said and did, and then he went flying off the handle at the first opportunity, and she not only wasn't ticked off, she actually seemed to be proud of him. Didn't know what he'd done to deserve her, but he was damned glad that he had her.

"I'm afraid," Rose went on. "That Angel isn't going to see it that way."

"Yeah, I doubt if he's going to give me a pat on the back," Spike remarked. "Probably give me the sack for sure, this time. Whatever else I did, I never hit a client before."

"Actually, the client's servant," Rose corrected. "I don't think Angel will fire you, darling. But I do think he's going to yell."

&&&&&&&

Rose's words were prophetic. Angel had barely gotten in the door when the yelling began.

"Of all the stupid, immature stunts you've ever pulled, Spike, that has just got to take the cake," Angel fumed. "I can't believe that even you were dumb enough to hit a client."

"The client's servant," Rose said, jumping to Spike's defense.

"It might just as well have been the client." Angel was pacing now, acting like he really wanted to hit something. Or someone. "You could have cost us a client. Or a hell of a lot more. Do you realize that there are a lot of cultures that would have demanded your life for an insult like that?"

"And if it wasn't for me and Rose being bound together, you would have been happy to dust me on the spot, wouldn't you?" Spike snapped back. "It's not like dog-boy was narked about it. He even apologized for it."

Rose started to open her mouth to say something else on Spike's behalf, but Angel beat her to the punch. "You." He pointed a finger at her. "Out." He realized that was a little harsh, so he added. "Please go in the other room, Rose. Spike and I need to talk about this. Without you."

Rose looked a little miffed. Angel had never spoken to her like that before. Not ever. She was about to protest, but one look at the expression on Angel's face convinced her to do as he said.

"Now that you don't have Rose's skirts to hide behind," Angel began again. "Maybe we can talk."

"I wasn't hiding behind Rose's skirts, you pompous git," Spike growled. "Gets up your nose that she defends me, doesn't it?"

"It does when you were in the wrong." Angel was no longer yelling. In fact, he was suddenly the epitome of calm. And for some reason that gave Spike a cold chill in all the wrong places.

"I reacted without thinking," Spike started in, then realized that was the problem. "Oh piss."

"Spike, protecting Rose is one thing," Angel remarked quietly. "I'd never have a problem with that. But what you just admitted to, acting without thinking, that has got to stop. It's time to stop being a boy and start acting like a man. A man with responsibilities, like a family on the way."

"You going to boot me out?" Spike asked. He might grumble and growl about it, but deep inside, he thought Angel would be entirely justified if he did so.

"No," Angel said. "Not this time. But I can't keep risking the firm's reputation for your temper. I'm bending over backwards here, because you do have responsibilities, and I can't see you managing to hold down a job anywhere else. So basically, I'm doing it for Rose."

Spike remained silent. There really didn't seem to be a hell of a lot to say. As bitter a pill as it was for him to swallow, Angel was right. He just hoped that Angel was finished. He wasn't.

"Spike, there are other cultures that would have demanded the life of your firstborn to pay for the insult," Angel commented softly. "You might want to think about that the next time you take offense at something someone says."

&&&&&&&

"Rose, you know I'm not going to tell you anything about the prophecy," Wesley said. "And I know that you can handle the administrative chores without me looking over your shoulder, so why are you here?"

"I wanted to know if you ever did anything about that cooking pot," Rose mumbled, a little shamefaced. It still embarrassed her no end that she'd cast such a dangerous spell, even if she hadn't known it was a spell.

"It was etched with a sigil that would have acted like a homing beacon," the Watcher replied. "I've since had it destroyed. I didn't want who or what was after you finding you again."

"Thank you, Wesley," Rose said quietly. "I just wanted to know, that's all."

"I know it's hard not knowing what's going on, Rose," Wesley said placatingly. "But not to put too fine a point on it, we don't want you worrying yourself into a miscarriage." She still didn't seem to be perking up at all, or even acting like any of it was filtering through. "What's wrong?"

"I was watching the news on t.v. last night," Rose muttered. "Here I am, with people all around me who want nothing more than to keep me safe and sound, and on the news I saw a man who beat his pregnant wife to death. He killed his wife and child with his own hands, and didn't even show the slightest sign of remorse. And this is the world that Spike died to save?"

"For all the terrible events like that, there are others that are just as good," Wesley said quietly. "But people want sensationalism, so the good things get lost in the shuffle and the stories like the one you saw are the ones that they're watching. It isn't right, but that's the way things are."

"I realize that, Wesley," Rose said. "Maybe it's just that I didn't understand just how protected I am. So protected that I'm out of touch with the world I'm living in now. The world that I'm going to have to try to teach my children to live in."

"I'm certain every parent to be has similar concerns, Rose," he remarked. "You're not alone. And when you start getting down like this, you might want to remember that. You're not alone." This time, the light started to return to her eyes, but just for good measure he added. "And you might want to skip the news for a while, Rose."

&&&&&&&&

"It was a mistake of the highest magnitude, slug. What have you to say for yourself?" M'rek was at his haughtiest.

"Oh magnificence, I fully agree that I acted foolishly, but I believe that we have confirmed that the female is the vessel of the prophecy," Kraj sniveled, prostrating himself.

"And what of the encounter led you to that conclusion?" his Lord demanded.

"The male is a vampire," Kraj pointed out carefully. "The only way he could have impregnated her would be if he was the instrument of the prophecy. He must be the other souled one."

"You may have a point, Kraj," M'rek admitted grudgingly. "And for confirming that she is indeed the vessel, I shall allow you to live a little longer."

"A most undeserved honor that I shall do my humble best to merit," Kraj whined.

&&&&&&&&&

Spike stopped the car in front of the entrance to the office building. Somewhere around them, there were other cars with some of his lads in them, keeping an eye on the both of them, but most especially Rose. Angel had insisted on them having a full escort for the trip to the doctor's office. It was the first time either of them had been out of the complex that housed Wolfram and Hart for nearly a month. "You run along in, pet," he directed her. "They'll probably keep you waiting anyway. I'll get the car parked and join you."

"I could have walked across the parking garage with you," Rose answered. She was still a little fractious about the excessive solicitude.

Spike sighed. Ever since she'd been pregnant, it seemed like Rose had to argue with him over every slightest little thing. And he had six more months of this to go through? "Just go on in, sweetheart," he pleaded. "You won't even have time to miss me."

This time, Rose complied. She got signed in and resigned herself to a wait. There were three or four other women in the waiting room in various stages of pregnancy, and she scrutinized each one while trying to pretend that she wasn't staring. Then, the woman next to her decided to strike up a conversation.

"Is this your first?" she asked.

"Yes," Rose admitted. "How can you tell?"

"You're in maternity clothes and you don't need them yet," the other woman said with a laugh. "Wait till the third time around. You need them sooner, but by then you don't want to wear them."

Rose decided that it was probably best not to go into reasons why she thought that this would be the only time it would happen to her. "You already have two children?" she inquired politely.

The woman nodded. "My mother takes care of them when I have a doctor's appointment," she confided. "It's the only way I get a little peace from the little terrors."

Across the room, two other women were also having a conversation, although not nearly so friendly.

"I'm betting a rich man's mistress," said the hard done by thirtysomething brunette.

"Upper class business man's wife," argued the other female. Her hair was red, but it was a shade that had definitely never had anything to do with nature. "She does have a ring on."

The brunette sniffed. "Anyone can go into a jewelry store and buy a ring. She probably drove here in a BMW, and has a closet full of clothes, a jewelry box full of expensive little baubles, and all for just laying on her back."

The pseudo-redhead shook her head. "She keeps looking at the door, which means that she's waiting for someone. And men don't generally go to the o.b.'s office with their piece on the side." She giggled meanly. "But I'd be willing to bet that he's bald, fat and on the wrong side of forty. Maybe even fifty."

"A trophy wife?" asked the brunette. "Well, maybe. We'll just have to see what comes walking in the door."

As if summoned, the door opened to admit Spike, who headed towards Rose like she was his lodestone.

"See," he said. "I wasn't long at all, was I, luv?"

The brunette and redhead both took a long look at Spike. The leather duster, the bleached blond hair, the chiseled good looks and the less than posh British accent. It all added up to one thing as far as they were concerned. "Rock star," they whispered in unison.