Saturday's Child

Chapter Five

…

The kettle had just started to whistle when Angel showed up in the kitchen. Buffy ignored him at first, continuing with the comforting ritual of making a cup of tea. She'd brought the tea itself – good quality loose leaf Assam – and the little mesh infuser cup with her from home, but everything else had been easily found in the hotel's kitchen. There was even milk and sugar cubes.

She turned the stove off to stop the kettle's whistling, poured boiling water into the teacup, and then dumped it out into the sink once the cup was warm. Each step was something she could focus on without needing to actually think. Then the infuser went into the cup. She'd already put a heaping teaspoon of leaves into it, which filled it less than halfway. That gave the leaves room to expand, which, according to Spike, let them release their full flavor.

She poured more boiling water into the cup and covered it with a saucer. Now she just had to wait for about three or four minutes, which left her with nothing to distract from the soulful, broody elephant in the room. She was pretty sure he wasn't going to let her keep ignoring him and even more sure that she didn't want him taking the lead in this conversation.

"How's Darla doing?" she asked, without turning to look at him.

Looking at Angel right now was very much of the not good. The trance had completely broken during her fight with Darla, but memory kept painting itself over Angel, showing her that tormented soul. If she turned to look at him, she would see that. Or the dark, mysterious demon hunter her sixteen-year-old self had gotten all starry-eyed over. Maybe both. Either way, she didn't want to see it. One would make her feel sorry for him and the other…. She wasn't in love with him anymore. She knew that, but she'd never really gotten closure for their relationship, and it made things confusing.

"Better. She's, uh, not as hysterical, and Fred found her a small bag of chips. Then she took Spike and Thursday upstairs to one of the rooms we have fixed up." There was a pause. "Fred that is, not Darla."

"Yeah, I kind of figured that."

That was good. Spike had only managed a five-minute nap, and he was going to need more than that to recover from the blood loss. He'd need more blood and some human food, too. It was also good that Fred felt safe with him. Buffy had told them about the chip (which was totally still there. For reals) from the start, but she'd been worried that Spike's completely justified attack on Darla might make them nervous around him.

Buffy's reminder about the chip followed by a nasty castration joke from Angel seemed to have put things at ease again. Though she was quietly seething about that joke. Yeah, okay, so it was the kind of thing she and the Scoobs had said about Spike a lot, but they'd stopped doing that even before the chip had been removed. And she kind of had the feeling she would have been pissed even if all this had come up before she'd fallen in love with Spike. Sort of a "we can pick on our pain-in-the-butt vampire, but heaven help the neighbor kids if they try" kind of thing.

Neighbor kid…. Buffy closed her eyes for a moment to let that really sink in. Angel was the neighbor kid, and not one of them. Not anymore, if he ever really had been. He'd always been drifting in and out, leaving cryptic messages and rarely there when you needed him. Spike had always been showing up like the proverbial bad penny, wanting their company without wanting to admit to it.

"Buffy, we need to talk," Angel said quietly into the silence.

What was it with people wanting to talk to her and declaring it a need they both suddenly shared? Angel, Willow, it was the same. We need to talk. Never the truth, which was, I want to run my mouth at you whether you want to deal with me or not. And they never seemed interested in what she had to say.

Buffy clenched her fists and took a slow, deep breath before finally turning around to face Angel. Deep brown eyes full of smoldering passion. There was a small part of her that wanted to melt into his arms, just let him be the big, strong man who would protect her from the world. She was easily able to squash that part of herself down. The ghost was still there, haunting the depths of her psyche, but she hadn't been that girl in a long time.

"The tea will be ready in about two minutes," she said evenly. "You have until then."

Angel frowned, looking confused, like her response hadn't been what he expected. He shook it off, though, and started to talk. "Look, I appreciate what you've done, but you shouldn't be here. It's too dangerous for us to be together. We have to stay away from each other."

"Like you stayed away Valentine's Day?"

He at least had the decency to wince, but that didn't stop him from trying to justify it. "That was different. I went there to –"

"To what?" Buffy cut in. "Save me from the 'yappy, castrated puppy dog' in my house? I'm the slayer, Angel, not some delicate little damsel in need of rescue."

"Okay, maybe I overreacted," he reluctantly admitted, running a hand through his hair as he started to pace. He stopped right in front of her, eyes dark with something she probably would have called love in the past. "I love you, Buffy, you know that. It makes me crazy, sometimes, and that's why you can't be here. You need to take your baby and leave."

Buffy's eyes narrowed. Did he honestly expect her to take Spike's child away from him and leave him behind? She felt sick at the thought. How many times had she woken up to find Spike, wild-eyed and shaking from a nightmare, holding Thursday and practically petting her bald in an effort to convince himself that she was still there, that no one was going to take her away from him? Too many to count, and there was no way in hell Buffy was going to turn his nightmares into reality. And she definitely wasn't leaving him here with Angel.

"Don't worry about Spike coming after you," Angel continued on earnestly, as if that was any kind of worry. "I can handle him. You just…." He moved closer. "You have to leave, before we forget the consequences."

His eyes went half-lidded as he leaned in towards her for a kiss. Then his body tensed, and she knew he was about to pull away and spout some bitter comment about how they could never be together. Oh, no, none of that. She put her hands on his chest and shoved him away.

"Time's up," she said, letting her anger come through in her voice. "And we're staying. We're not here for you, Angel. Wesley called us in to help with Darla, and that's what we're going to do. Deal with it."

Then she turned away from him and uncovered the teacup before taking out the infuser. Angel watched, gaping like a hooked fish, as she added two sugar cubes and a splash of milk. Apparently her words and actions had left him speechless. Good. She'd been tired of talking to him even before he'd opened his mouth.

Unfortunately, the non-talky didn't last past her putting the cup of tea on a small tray and heading for the doorway. "Aren't you going to drink that?"

Buffy glanced back at him. "It's not for me." He made a face like he'd unexpectedly bitten into something sour. She wondered if he was just now realizing all of the time and effort she'd put into making the tea instead of just throwing some bags into a mug of microwaved water. "Oh, and Angel? Any more comments about Spike being figuratively castrated and you're going to find out what it's like to be literally castrated."

Then she walked away, leaving him slack-jawed and bewildered.

…

...

Spike flopped down on the surprisingly comfy bed in one of the rooms and lifted Thursday up over him. She squealed and giggled, limbs flailing all about as he swayed her from side to side while making whooshing noises. Didn't take much to make everything right in her world. Once the danger was past, everything was all puppies and Christmas. He was much the same, honestly, but in this case, he was still out of sorts. If he'd been just a second slower, or if Darla hadn't hesitated….

He shuddered and lowered Thursday until he was holding her against his chest. Such a warm, sweet little thing, and he could have lost her. He kissed her, and she "baa"ed and "buh"ed at him affectionately. The tension and anger had no chance of surviving that, of course. They should just bottle essence of sprog and spray it all about the world. No more violence or strife with everyone feeling all warm and fuzzy while grinning like idiots. 'Course, that would make things right boring, it would.

"Not that I'd notice, now would I, love?" he murmured. "Be too hopped up on the scent of the sweetest, cutest little snoogy-woogy ev-"

There was a slight sound from the doorway. Bloody hell, Fred was still stood there, wasn't she? For a moment, embarrassment tried to raise its ugly head. Bugger that, he thought, sitting up and settling Thursday comfortably in his lap. He was the father of the cutest sprog in the world (though she'd soon have to share that title with her sister) and sometimes he talked to her in daft baby drivel. Nothing wrong with that.

"Did you need something, pet?" he asked.

"You're a vampire." It was said very matter-of-factly, with no apparent judgement or recriminations.

"Noticed that, did you?"

"Well, I am a scientist," Fred said with a slight smile. Girl was a bit of alright, wasn't she? "We tend to be more observant than most, as long as we aren't wrapped up in a project." The smile faltered, and she looked nervous, but he was pretty sure it had nothing to do with him. "You're a vampire, and Buffy's a vampire slayer. It seems like she's known you from before the microchip. Doesn't that mean the two of you have…."

"What? Tried to kill each other?" he asked, head tilted as he studied her. "Bit of an odd question, innit? Something like that happen between you and the ex-watcher?"

Her eyes widened slightly and her cheeks pinkened at the question. "Oh, th-there's nothing going on with me and Wesley."

"But you want there to be," he said, fairly certain of it. She looked like he'd smacked her in the gob with a fish. It was kind of cute. "Not a scientist or anything, but I've bit of a knack for noticing the bleeding obvious. So, what happened?" At her hesitation, he added, "I'm betting your mates already know, and the lot I run with down in Sunnydale probably wouldn't give a toss if I told 'em. Which I won't."

He listened as Fred spilled the story about Billy Blim. He pulled out his keys at one point to jingle in front of an increasingly wriggly Thursday, but other than that, she'd his full attention. It was a sad tale. Fred and Wesley getting ever closer, only to have it all blown to hell by a half demon with the power to infect people with his raging misogyny. Fred didn't blame Wesley for anything he'd done under the influence – including trying to kill her – but the poor bugger apparently blamed himself. The poet in Spike wanted to write a sodding ballad about it all, but he was able to appease and suppress it with a promise of a sonnet or two about Buffy.

"With Buffy and me," he said once Fred was finished, "was a different dynamic. We started out as natural enemies, but there had always been a bit of a spark between us. This thing with you and Wes, though? Completely different. He was forced into feeling things that weren't part of him, and he acted on them. You're going to have to draw him out of it. Make him deal with it and don't let him shut you out."

The whole thing sounded a lot like what Buffy had gone through with their first encounter with the fertility ritual. An outside force getting inside and twisting you all up. Spike shuddered at the thought. That hadn't exactly been the most pleasant experience ever for him, but at least he'd still been in control of himself.

"Oh, b-but, he wants to deal with it alone. He's so shy. If I push…." She sounded like she wanted to, but was worried she'd push him away.

"Your instinct is to let him be right now, sort himself out and what all. But it won't work. You want him? You're gonna have to fight for him."

"But –"

"Trust me on this." He flashed her a charming smile as he cut her off, then curled his tongue behind his teeth. "You may've noticed from the incredibly sexy accent, but I've spent quite a bit of time across the pond. You want to get a stodgy Englishman out of his rut, you gotta force him out."

She nodded slowly with a thoughtful look. "You've given me a lot to think about. But, uh, I should probably let you get settled."

She smiled in thanks before slipping away. Spike hoped she'd take his advice. She was a good sort and deserved happiness. And speaking of happiness…. He smiled as Buffy slipped in through the still open door with a cup of tea and sat beside him. Warm, squirmy sprog in his arms and a beautiful woman who loved him by his side. He'd found his happiness, and nothing was going to take it away.

…

...

Cordelia staggered back as pain and images flashed through her mind. People fighting in the lobby of the hotel. Cages set up, labeled "baby" and "mother". That bitch Lilah from Wolfram & Hart holding Thursday. Spike locked up in a room, banging on the door while a baby cried.