159

"You should have heard those two women in the waiting room gossiping," Angel commented as he escorted Rose from the doctor's office. Spike had elected to skip this trip just in case Dr. Mitchell was still around. Even he didn't trust his restraint that far.

"What were they saying?" Rose really wasn't overly interested. Her most pressing concern at the moment was getting home so she could kick her shoes off of her aching feet.

"They were trying to figure out our relationship," Angel explained, with a wicked grin. "They couldn't decide if I was your brother, or if you'd changed your mind about who the father is."

"Hmm?" Rose was thinking of no shoes, a hot bath, no shoes, maybe a peanut butter and tuna fish sandwich, no shoes, and was only half listening to him. Then, it filtered through. "What? That's crazy!" she expostulated. "Besides, what do you mean about changing my mind about who the father is? What could I possibly do to make Spike not be their father? Not that I'd want to."

"That's not it." Rose had assimilated so well that sometimes Angel forgot how short a time she'd been human until she threw him a curve like this. "What it means is they think you may have slept with both of us around the right time and decided that for some reason or other you'd rather believe that I was the father than Spike." He handed her into the car.

Rose sat silently for a few minutes, trying to digest the information and finding it extremely unpalatable. "I've seen that sort of thing on the television, of course, it's practically inescapable," she said slowly. "But I didn't think that people really acted that way. But I guess they must, or those women wouldn't have thought that. I wonder what they find to talk about when I'm not around to discuss." She started grinning. "Have they picked out a profession for you?"

Angel shook his head with a laugh. "They were still discussing it when we left. I wonder how they'd feel if they knew I could hear everything." He glanced over at Rose. "Why? What did they think Spike does for a living?"

"They think he's a rock star," Rose giggled. "They haven't quite figured out which one, but they're pretty sure he is one. Spike said that one time they were even debating asking him for his autograph."

They were almost out of the parking garage when Angel suddenly pulled back into a spot and put the car in park. Then, he threw back his head and roared with laughter.

&&&&&&&

Wesley walked into Anna Monroe's office. Ever since her catty behavior at Rose's baby shower, coupled with a bad performance rating, he'd kept a quiet but careful eye on her. She wasn't in her office when he arrived, so he decided to wait. He glanced around, shuffling papers, seeing what she was doing and how well she was doing it when he came across a piece of notebook paper. Curiosity getting the better of him, he started reading it.

'Your children were conceived as demons and both they and you shall reside in the deepest pits of hell along with their father. You are a blight upon humanity..," Evidently, she hadn't managed to finish this one, but Wesley had seen the original, and recognized the style. He folded it carefully and tucked it into his pocket. It hadn't been on top of the stack, so she probably wouldn't notice that it was missing.

He opened the door and glanced up and down the hall. Still no sign of her. Stepping back inside the office, he pulled out a cell phone and made a quick call. He was just putting the phone away when Anna made her appearance.

"Mr. Wyndam-Pryce," she murmured a little nervously. "What can I do for you?"

Wesley smiled at her disarmingly. "Angel would like to see you in his office, and I've come to take you there, that's all," he lied. He'd gotten rather good at lying, he noticed and wasn't altogether sure if that was a good thing.

&&&&&&&&

Spike had been going to see Angel anyway. Since Rose hadn't come to see him or called him since her doctor's appointment, he had no idea what was going on, and that irritated the hell out of him. But if Rose was resting, he didn't want to bother her. She'd been having quite a few nasty dreams of late, mostly horror shows featuring their unborn kids. He'd reluctantly sided with Fred that they might just be a normal part of her pregnancy, since the psychics hadn't found a spell attached to the original note. But bleeding, suffering hell, the tormented dreams her subconscious saddled her with. She wasn't resting too well at all at night. Between the dreams and the backaches and the heartburn. It made him wonder just why women did put up with it more than once.

He got to Harmony's lookout post, and she just waved him on in, so, he went.

The Watcher was there, and some woman that he just barely recognized. What was the pouf up to now, he wondered?

"Spike, this is Anna Monroe, a member of Wesley's department," Angel said. His eyes cautioned Spike against doing anything precipitate, and Spike wondered what that was about until he remembered that that was the name of the stupid bint that had upset Rose so at her baby shower.

"Ms. Monroe." Spike acknowledged the introduction formally, reigning in his temper. He leaned against the front of Angel's desk, more out of habit than for the annoyance value, this time. He glanced over his shoulder at Angel. "What's up?"

Wesley stepped forward and produced the piece of paper from his pocket. "I believe that I have found out who Rose's ill-wisher is," he replied, handing the note to Angel, since Spike seemed to want nothing to do with it.

Anna went deathly pale. She had no idea why she'd been summoned to the CEO's office, and her department head had been very close-mouthed about it even though she had turned on the charm and tried her utmost to find out. But she had never suspected that she'd been caught.

"You can't prove anything," she muttered. "It's just your word against mine." As a defense, it sucked, and she knew it, but there was nothing else she could come up with on the spur of the moment.

"I've known Wes for several years," Angel commented. "And you and I have never really met. Who's word do you think I'll be more inclined to believe?"

"And if you didn't do it," Spike added. "Then why do you smell of fear?" He didn't move, just stayed where he was staring at her. At her throat. That was usually enough to unnerve most people who knew what he was.

It certainly unnerved Anna. "It's not fair," she pouted. "I've been working here for years, and I do a good job. Then that pretty little miss waltzes in here out of nowhere and gets promoted right over my head. And then has the nerve to give me a bad review."

"And you think that excuses your outrageous behavior?" Due to his anger, Wesley sounded (if possible), even more English than usual. "You have no one to blame but yourself for your poor review, Ms. Monroe. It's a pity that this petty side of you hasn't been evident in Lorne's screenings. We could have fired you before you did such damage."

"Damage?" the Monroe woman scoffed. "What damage? So I scared the self-righteous little bitch a bit. I never did like her anyway. But I didn't do anything to her." She gulped nervously when she saw Spike's eyes go yellow.

"I think you should know," Angel said conversationally. "That Spike really doesn't like to hear people call Rose a bitch. He tends to take insults to her personally."

"Very personally," Spike agreed. "What do you think, Angel? I don't think an apology would quite cut it, since it wouldn't be sincere." His eyes still hadn't gone back to their normal blue, and the unnatural yellow orbs were making Anna even more nervous, if that were possible.

"What would the senior partners do, I wonder?" Wesley mused aloud. "I've heard some very interesting stories on that score."

"I thought that we were supposed to be better than the senior partners," Angel put in. "Although, there are times that I'll admit that I'm tempted to employ their methods." He looked to where Spike remained, seemingly indolent, but in reality, poised for action. "What do you think, Spike?"

"I think I'd favor slow dismemberment," Spike remarked. "Wouldn't want to drink her blood. Probably leave a bad taste in my mouth."

"And if we were to employ the legal method," the Watcher pointed out. "You could be looking at some jail time for sending threatening messages like that."

Anna looked from one face to another and realized that she had no friends here. Friends had never been something that one acquired at Wolfram and Hart. Merely acquaintances who could be friendly one minute, and stab you in the back the next. But these new people seemed to stick together. "Are you going to send me to jail?" Jail didn't appeal, but the sort of chastisement that the senior partners were renowned for appealed less.

"I think we'll settle for letter of resignation," Angel replied. "Effective immediately. No severance pay, no recommendations. Just get the hell out of here."

"And if Rose should get any more of those little love letters," Spike added in menacing tones. "Jail will be the least of your worries. The very least."

Anna swallowed again. "Can I use your computer?" she asked timidly. "Or shall I just type up the letter on mine when I go down to clean out my desk?"

"Use mine," Angel directed. "I want to watch you type it myself, make sure that you don't try to pull a fast one."

"And I'll escort you to your office to clear out your personal things," Wesley added. "Make sure that you don't try to leave with company property."

"And I'll see you out of the building," Spike put in. "To make sure that you stay the hell away from Rose. And if you ever pull any of this crap with her again, I'll just see you in hell."

&&&&&&&&&

When Spike got home, Rose wasn't there to greet him again. But that was becoming more usual now. With all her restless nights, she was often napping when he got off work. But once he entered the door, he heard her voice, the gentle rise and fall, the inflections. It was coming from the bedroom, and he would have wondered who the hell she was talking to in there, but further listening suggested that it was a monologue, not a dialogue. Rose was reading out loud.

He stood in the doorway, and there was Rose, lying on her side on the bed, reading out loud from one of the children's books. "Reading to the little ones, babe?" he asked, going over to kiss her. It would never have occurred to him not to kiss her after being away from her for several hours.

"Mm-hmm." Rose placed a bookmark in the volume and laid it aside. "This was about the only way I could get comfortable," she said, explaining her presence and position. "And if I didn't read to them, they got restless. But they like being read to."

"They're gonna be smart like you," Spike remarked. He didn't want to bring up the subject, but he thought he ought to, just to put Rose's mind at ease. "You're not going to be getting any more of those nasty letters, luv."

"Did they finally find out who was writing them?" Rose felt like a weight was being lifted off her shoulders.

"The stupid cow you gave a bad rating," Spike replied. "Thought she'd get a bit of her own back by scaring the bejesus out of you." Then, remembering to give credit where credit was due, he added, "Percy was the one who found out. About caught her in the act, it seems."

"I thought you weren't going to call him that anymore," Rose chided gently.

"I don't to his face," Spike protested. "Are you hungry yet, sweetheart?"

"Not yet," she replied quickly. "I had a snack when I got home from the doctor's. By the way, I'm going to have to go every week now until the babies are born."

"Is the pretty boy still handling the chores?" Spike asked.

Rose shook her head, smiling at him. "No, Dr. Pratt is back," she answered. "Although how you could think that anyone would want to flirt with someone as fat as I am..,"

"You're not fat," he argued. "You're just pregnant. Very pregnant." He looked her up and down. "Never did see a pregnant woman that looked so beautiful before either."

&&&&&&&&&&

"Angel." Wesley walked into his office unannounced about a week later. "I've just cracked another part of that prophecy. It would seem that The Powers have it rigged so that you can't get any information out of it until you're ready for it."

"So what's the latest?" Angel asked. "Please don't tell me that someone else is going to be after Rose."

"Well, that's still a possibility," the Watcher admitted. "After it did say that there would be many who would like to prevent the birth of her children. But that's old news. This is something different. It has to do with how the children will come into the world."

That definitely caught Angel's attention. "We're not talking something bizarre are we?" He felt his stomach tie itself into knots, thinking how Connor had come into the world.

"I imagine that would depend on your definition of bizarre," Wes allowed. "Here, I wrote it down. 'And when the time has come for the vessel to be delivered of the new race, her sole attendant shall be he who watches.'" Wesley looked a little shaken. "Do you realize what that means?"

"A lot of people watch all sorts of things," Angel hedged. The idea horrified him almost as much as it obviously did Wesley. "If I were you, I wouldn't tell Spike about this latest development."

"I'm not sure I'm even going to tell Fred," Wesley mumbled. "Why on earth does it have to be me? I don't know anything about babies, especially delivering them. But it almost has to be me, I'm the only Watcher here."