Saturday's Child

Chapter Three

…

Usually, when Angel dreamed of being with Buffy, it was beautiful and tender. He'd lay her down on his bed and make slow, sweet love to her while she gazed up at him with shy adoration. Sometimes, though, it was different. Something sordid and obscene. Buffy on top of him, eyes wild, cheeks flushed, bosom heaving as she held a stake to his chest, preparing to drive it home.

Unfortunately, it wasn't a dream this time, and his confusion and revulsion with himself did nothing to temper the arousal. It was sick and wrong, but something about her pinning him down, ready to turn him to dust with a single twitch of her wrist….

He wasn't entirely sure what had happened. Buffy had shown up out of the blue, and before he'd been able to ask her what crisis had sent her running to him, Spike had come in behind her, holding a baby. Images of Spike and Drusilla hunting children had flashed through Angel's mind even as he acted, lunging towards the younger vampire in an attempt to get the baby away from him before it was too late.

Instead of backing him up, Buffy had dropped two of the bags she'd been holding so she could get a better grip on the third and smack him in the face with it while Spike had kicked him in the ribs. And now….

"What the hell is wrong with you?" Buffy spat at him, fury in her eyes. The stake pressed harder against him, piercing his skin.

What was wrong with him? She was the one who had left an innocent baby with a monster. "Damn it, Buffy, I don't have time for this! Spike has…." He trailed off and grabbed at the stake, trying to wrestle it away from her. "I have to save…."

There was no point in trying to explain. Like usual, it was up to him. Didn't she know how easy it was to kill a baby? Spike could just let go and let it fall to the floor. That chip probably wouldn't fire at all, and even if did, the baby would still be dead and ready to be eaten. Couldn't she hear it crying while Spike… murmured comfortingly? What?

"Save her from what exactly?" Buffy asked. She sounded disgusted, but the pressure on the stake lessened. "Being held by her own daddy?"

At that point, Spike's actual words registered. "Hush, love, 's alright, Daddy's got ya. Mummy took the bad man down."

Bad man. He wasn't a bad man. He'd just been trying to… save a baby from her own father who hadn't actually been doing anything other than holding her. He'd just been talking about it with his team, but he'd somehow forgotten about Buffy and Spike getting caught up in a fertility ritual and having a child together. Or, well, not forgotten exactly, but it hadn't connected. He'd seen Spike with a child, and it had reminded him of the last time he'd seen something like that. Spike bringing home a snack for Drusilla.

"Buffy, I'm…." What? Sorry for attacking Spike? He'd done what he thought was right. Maybe he'd been mistaken, but that didn't make his actions wrong. Not really. Especially when it came to a soulless demon.

"Save it," Buffy said, shaking her head and getting off of him. Instead of reaching down to help him up, she turned away and went to Spike.

Angel slowly got to his feet, hunching awkwardly to hide the effect Buffy had had on him. "What are you even doing here?" he demanded.

"Ugh. Typical." He could practically hear Cordelia rolling her eyes. "Hurricane Buffy rolls into town, and all the blood immediately leaves your brain to visit the south pole. Isn't it obvious? Wes's expert is the other vampire you knocked up."

"I didn't…"

"You what?" Spike said at the same time, interrupting Angel's protest. "What the bloody hell have you been telling your people?"

…

...

Good thing I bubblewrapped all the breakable stuff, Buffy thought with a sigh as she pulled candles, incense, and a couple of big glass jars of red sand out of one of the bags she'd dropped earlier. The other bag had had the parts of Thursday's portable playpen. Spike was working on putting it together with the help of the man who had introduced himself as Charles Gunn. Not that Spike actually needed the help, but they seemed to be having fun chatting about bar snacks.

"… secret is, you soak the onion in ice water for about an hour. That way, it'll hold its shape when you deep fry it."

"Huh, wonder how they figured that trick out?" Gunn asked, sounding appropriately impressed with Spike's onion blossom knowledge.

"Not a bloody clue, though that's nothing compared to artichoke dip. I mean, what crazy bugger thought it'd be a good idea puttin' something that spikey into his gob?"

Buffy smiled slightly and shook her head. She was still fuming about the fact that Wesley hadn't told Angel they were coming, but Spike was already over it. He'd always been one to roll with things and keep on going. That had been something she'd grudgingly admired about him even when they'd been mortal enemies.

She reluctantly pulled her attention from her vampire and focused on the other two. Angel was standing around, brooding. The protective instinct had calmed down a bit when she'd realized he thought he was saving Thursday, but she still had a pretty big urge to hit him. He could have hurt her little girl, and if there had been a real fight between the two male vampires, one unlucky hit could have been enough to cause a miscarriage or something.

Angel hadn't even managed to touch Spike, but Buffy was still really glad she'd decided to pack the things for that magic detecting trance she'd learned when her mother had been sick. It was to get a look at whatever magic was involved with Darla's pregnancy, but the fact that she could check on Spike's at the same time was a major bonus.

Darla herself was pacing restlessly, giving everyone hungry looks that had Buffy's slayer instincts on high alert. The protective instinct wasn't too happy, either. Darla's gaze kept lingering a little too long on Thursday, who was in her carrier next to Spike, busily gnawing on her lamb plushie. When was the last time Darla had had blood? And had it been some poor person she'd murdered, donor blood, or the pig Angel had in the mini fridge in the office behind the front counter?

The baby is what matters right now, she reminded herself. The baby Darla was carrying was the only reason she wasn't dust. And the only reason Buffy was going to be offering the undead bitch some of the donated human blood she'd put in the full sized refrigerator in the hotel's kitchen for Spike and Thursday. She wasn't entirely sure what Darla's baby was, but it was growing inside a vampire, so it stood to reason it needed nutrients from what vampires ate. And vampires were designed to eat people, even if they could survive on other types of blood. Survive didn't necessarily mean thrive.

Buffy sighed and started getting things ready for the trance. Attacks and weird misunderstandings aside, at least this was going better than the last time she'd seen Angel in L.A. When Faith had run here after stealing her life. When Angel had taken Faith's side and had ordered Buffy out of L.A., like he had any right to tell her where she could or couldn't go.

"Hey, you squeeze that jar any harder, and it's going to shatter all over the floor," Cordelia said quietly, breaking into Buffy's thoughts. "These are brand new sandals, and I so do not want glass and actual sand all over them."

Buffy carefully set the jar down. She'd been trying really hard not to think too deeply about Angel. All of the things that time and talking to Ben had made disturbingly clear…. Ben, she needed to call Ben. She could talk to him, and…. She was already reaching for her purse and the new cell phone inside, but she forced herself to pull away. She couldn't call him up every time she had a problem, especially with him working the nightshift at the ER a lot. She could handle this herself, using some of the techniques Ben had taught her. She took a deep, steadying breath. Count to ten and think of positive things. That was the key.

One, two, three…. They were going to have a proper Thanksgiving with Mom involved in a couple of weeks. It would be the first time in two years. No needy aunts calling her away and no tumors keeping her in the hospital. Four, five, six…. It would be Thursday's first Thanksgiving. Unless you counted the one where Spike had shamelessly used her as an excuse for snagging the last piece of pumpkin pie, which Buffy didn't. Holidays only counted if you'd already been born. Seven, eight, nine…. Should they give Thursday some turkey blood? She wasn't a fan of pig, but turkey was a completely different animal. Literally. Ten.

Buffy glanced at Cordelia with slight smile. "Sorry. Last time I saw Angel here in L.A. wasn't exactly all kittens and roses. The two times after when he came by Sunnydale to beat up on my boyfriends weren't all that fun either."

"Two times?" Cordelia asked. "I knew about the run in with the military guy, but when did - ?"

"Valentine's Day. He came to 'rescue' me from Spike, and then thought we should kill our unborn baby because he was convinced she was a soulless abomination."

Cordy winced at that. "Oh. Yeah, that was back when he was all obsessed over…." She trailed off and glanced towards Darla. "If it makes you feel any better, he's kind of feeling the soulless abomination thing with this kid, too."

"Well, at least it means he's not as big a hypocrite as I thought," Buffy said wryly as she started getting the circle for the trance ready. She was making it big, so she had room to move.

She hoped Darla and Angel's baby did have a soul. She knew from the time she'd spent getting close to Spike that you didn't need one to be good if you wanted it enough, but Angel would never believe that. She couldn't tell if Darla was being influenced by a soul or not. Mostly, she just seemed bitchy and agitated, which was fair enough for eight or nine months pregnant.

How would she even act with a soul? Spike had been a marshmallow as a human, so he'd been upset and horrified by the things he'd done. He still had nightmares because of it. From all Buffy had heard, Darla had been kind of a heinous bitch in life, to the point that she'd been handpicked by the Master to become a vampire.

"Willow told me you were having a baby," Cordelia said abruptly. "But she didn't go into much detail, so I sort of thought it was military guy's and that you were the one pregnant. And that it was because of a broken condom or something." She snorted and rolled her eyes. "Silly me, thinking anything normal would happen in Sunnydale."

"Or that anything normal could ever happen to me."

She kept her tone light and joking, hiding the little sting of pain. Normal…. She'd wanted that once. Everyone had wanted it for her, including Angel. But there was no such thing as normal. Not for her, anyway. No, that's not true, she told herself firmly. She'd made her own normal, and she was happy with it. She wasn't going to let being around Angel ruin that for her.

"How's Willow doing, anyway? I haven't heard from her in months, and the last time we talked, she seemed really distracted."

Buffy froze. God, Willow. She didn't want to think about Willow right now. "She's in England," she said as neutrally as she could. "Studying."

How to not use magic for every damn thing. And hopefully learning to grow the hell up, instead of using magic and an evil demon arm to control her friends when they'd started to move on into adulthood. And definitely learning that she couldn't just try to erase an innocent baby from existence. If that part of Willow's spell had actually worked…. Buffy took a deep, calming breath.

"I'd really rather not talk about it," she said quietly. "And the sooner I get this trance going, the sooner we might have some answers."

Cordelia's eyes narrowed slightly, but she actually let it go without saying anything about it. "Right, I'll leave you to it. I'll see if I can get Darla to settle down. It'll probably be easier to see what's going on if she isn't pacing all over the place."

She walked away, leaving Buffy alone to finish her preparations. Once she'd finished, she glanced over at Spike. The pen was put together, and Thursday was in it, gurgling happily to herself as she motored around on her hands and knees.

"Ready to start, then, love?" Spike asked.

"Yeah."

He walked to the edge of the circle and started tapping one hand against the other in time with her heartbeat. She didn't need it to meditate, but it helped. She closed her eyes and got into position, taking up a fighting stance instead of sitting down. She exploded into motion, reveling in the power and strength of her body as she moved. Circling, circling, listening as Spike's tapping sped up with her heartrate and then, finally… there. She found the contrasting stillness within and sank down into the trance.

…

...

Hunger gnawed at Darla like a crazed beast. All these idiots, walking around with the blood pumping in their veins. She could suck them all dry, and it still wouldn't be enough. It was never enough. It would be better than that disgusting pig swill Angel had tried to give her, but there would still be an emptiness inside of her that refused to be sated.

Her gaze drifted to the baby in the playpen. Young, rich, sweet little slayer hybrid. Darla snorted in disgust. Typical Spike. Both a freak and such a whipped little puppy he'd let the slayer get him pregnant. And not just once, judging from the delicious, hormone-laden scent he was giving off. Had Angel noticed that yet? Probably not. Her dear boy had never been one to use his nose unless he absolutely had to.

Cordelia came over and tried to get her to sit down, but Darla waved the girl away. She didn't want to sit. She wanted to stand and slaughter them all. Especially the baby. There was a strange twinge at the thought, almost like… guilt of all things, but the hunger was enough to overpower it.

Spike left the playpen to go to Buffy like a good little kept boy, and Darla smiled. She'd wait, give the slayer a chance to get deep into her trance, and then…. The vampire slowly licked her lips.