Saturday's Child

Chapter Eight

…

Snuggly vampires, Buffy thought as she petted the head buried between her breasts, are kinda like teddy bears. Room temperature and all huggable and stuff. Though this particular vampire was all nice and firmly muscled instead of squishy like a teddy bear. She'd intended to give Spike a thermos full of the human blood she'd picked up from Magda, but when she'd seen him curled up on his side on Lorne's bed, she hadn't been able to resist cuddling. She sighed in contentment and slid her hand under his shirt to caress his back. Mmm. Silky smooth over steel. And all hers to play with, if she wanted.

Buffy very want. Before she could do anything with that thought, there was loud, insistent baby-babble in her ear and a sharp tug at her hair. Time to put away her sexy girlfriend hat and put on the mommy hat. She kissed the top of Spike's head, then carefully squirmed away from him while freeing her hair from Thursday's grip.

"Aww, does baby have a case of the hungries?" Buffy asked as she sat up on the bed and pulled Thursday into her arms. Until the first time she'd held her daughter, she hadn't realized that was what arms were for. Nothing felt as right in them as a baby.

"B-b-b-b. Bah-ah-uhn! Buh-buh. Un-ah-ihn."

"Think that means yes, love," Spike mumbled, scooching close enough to rest his head in her lap – face nuzzled up under her turtleneck to press against her bare skin – before falling back asleep. She wasn't really sure if he'd even actually woken up.

He's fine, she told herself firmly. So what if it was nighttime and he should be wide awake right now? He'd been munched on, and he'd vamped out when he fought Darla, bringing the demonic energy that kept him "alive" closer to the surface and easier for the new baby to drain. And then there was the fact that there was all kinds of stuff going on in his body that it wasn't really designed for. Of course he was tired.

Thursday screeched unhappily and whacked Buffy in the chest hard enough to make her wince. "Sorry, kiddo," she said, shifting her daughter around so she could lift up one side of her shirt and open up one of the cups on her nursing bra. They were total pros now, so the baby was contentedly suckling away within moments.

Buffy took a deep breath and released it, letting all of the tension float away on a cloud of hormones. Asking Tara for help so she could nurse Thursday had seriously been one of the best decisions she'd ever made.

She took another deep breath and started sorting things out in her mind. She'd finish getting Thursday fed, then wake Spike up so he could be fed. Get Thursday into a fresh diaper before putting her down to sleep, and then…. The door suddenly burst open, derailing Buffy's train of thought and waking Spike.

"Buffy, we're taking Darla… to… the…." Angel trailed off, staring at Buffy's chest.

Nothing was actually showing, and she'd nursed Thursday in front of Xander and even Giles hundreds of times without even thinking about it. But the way Angel was staring at her made her feel like she was doing something obscene. Like she should apologize and quickly cover herself.

"You ever hear of bloody knocking?" Spike griped, sitting up and glaring while Buffy sat frozen for a moment.

Then anger thawed her out. She was feeling all ooky because Angel was being a creep, not because she was doing anything wrong. Nursing was natural and normal (that thing Angel was always insisting she needed), and he'd been the one to just barge in without, as Spike had pointed out, even bothering to knock.

"To the what?" she snapped, drawing attention back to what Angel had started to say. "The dog park? Good idea."

"No, we're not taking her to a dog park," Angel said, sounding annoyed at the suggestion. He turned away a little and put a hand over his eyes. "We're…. Look, could you just..." He peeked at her from between his fingers, then looked away again. "I'm trying to talk to you here."

"Then quit with the bloody foreplay and get on with the main event, already," Spike grumbled.

Buffy sighed and shifted Thursday enough to have a free hand that she could put on Spike's shoulder. He was all bad-moody, and she didn't know if it was from being woken up, mood swings, or just having to deal with Angel. Maybe a combination of all three. It didn't really matter what the cause. Spike was feeling bitchy and Angel was acting like a nine-year-old, leaving her to be the calm, reasonable one. Damn it. At least the nursing hormones were helping with that.

"If you want to talk, then talk," she said. "You're the one who barged in here while I was feeding my kid. She's hungry and she doesn't like being covered while she eats. We're not inconveniencing her just because you can't be a grown-up about the fact that the lunchboxes attached to my chest aren't for you."

Angel tensed at that, his jaw clenching like he was barely holding back from saying something. Then he let his hand drop away from his face, but still wouldn't look at her. Just as well. It was time to switch boobs, and there was no way he'd be able to politely ignore the brief flash of nipple. She almost felt sorry for him. He was still hung up on her, and here he was, confronted with barely out of sight Buffy boobs. It had to be kind of tortury, but, well, maybe that would teach him to knock before barging in on people.

"Talk or leave," she said once Thursday was switched over.

"Cordy had the idea of sneaking into a hospital with Darla and using an ultrasound machine," Angel finally said. "Once we get a look at what's inside her, we're taking her to Cordelia's apartment."

What's inside her. Like he expected it to be some kind of two-headed duck monster or something. If what Buffy had seen in the trance was to be believed, it had looked like a normal human baby with nothing inherently evil about it. Just a lot of magical protections.

"Okay," Buffy said after a few moments of Angel just standing there in awkward silence. "Did you need us along for this? 'Cause, honestly, the fewer people around to see the ultrasound, the better."

He may have been all denial guy about the baby, but she didn't think that would last much past the ultrasound. It was special, seeing that first image of your baby, even if it looked kind of weird. Buffy wished she'd realized that with Thursday and had made it something just between her and Spike (and, well, Ben, since he'd known how to use the machine) instead of dragging Willow along in an attempt at reconciliation. Spike's hand found her knee and gently squeezed, reminding her that he'd long ago forgiven her for that mistake.

Angel glanced at her with a confused frown before looking away again. "No, I don't think we'll need you for this. I just… wanted you to know where we'd be."

"Now we do," she said evenly. She could feel Spike beside her, practically vibrating with the need to let loose some snarky comment. He didn't. To her relief, he let her handle it. "Goodnight, Angel."

His face tightened at the obvious dismissal, but he didn't say anything. Just nodded jerkily as he turned and grabbed the doorknob, leaving it slightly deformed as he left the room.

…

...

Angel wasn't thinking of Darla or the impossible, probably evil pregnancy as he drove towards the hospital with her, Cordelia, and Wes in his convertible. He was thinking of Buffy, sitting there on the edge of the bed, exposed except for the baby hiding her from his sight. God help him, how he'd wanted her. To have her put the baby aside so he could be the one with her flesh in his mouth.

And he was thinking of that moment, just as he'd gone into the room, when Spike's head had been in her lap. Then the younger vampire had been awake, sitting beside her all sleep tousled and…. Angel had been jealous. Of them both, because at that moment, he'd wanted them both. To touch and taste and dominate and….

"Angel!" Cordelia's shout brought him back to reality just in time for him to slam on the brakes before he plowed into the car in front of him at the red light. "What the hell is wrong with you?"

"Sorry," he said, voice shaky.

He closed his eyes for a moment and took a deep, shuddering breath. Buffy was in town, and she was in an unhealthy, degrading relationship with a muzzled beast who could never love her as much as Angel did. Spike was taking advantage of her, worming his way into her life for his own sick amusement and corrupting her along the way.

And she was too kind-hearted to realize it. She was pretending Spike was Angel as she used him to forget what they'd had. The purity of it. The purity of herself.

Whatever it took, Angel was going to help her remember who she was, who they were. But for right now, he had to keep his head in the game.

…

...

Pale hands, callused from both the pen and brawl, slowly caressed sun-kissed flesh, tracing the familiar curves and edges. He knew every inch of her now, after months of loving, devoted study. Could touch every spot the way it liked best. The stroke of fingertips, the firm pressure of palms, the whisper of his mouth against her skin.

Buffy filled Spike's senses, like a fire kindling within his body, warming him with the heat of desire. The feel of her body beneath him, supple and strong. Strong enough to break him in two if she'd a mind to, the thought of which only excited him more. The sound of her heated breath and the sight of her breasts heaving with it. Her heartrate racing with passion and her eyes dark with it. And, god, the heady scent of her arousal, like candy on his tongue as he dipped down between her legs to worship his slayer the way she deserved.

"Spike," she panted, tugging at him, pulling him away from her molten center and up towards her bared neck.

He kissed her pulse and held it gently between blunt, human teeth, dampening her throat with her own juices before letting go. "Not there," he whispered raggedly against her heated skin. God, he wanted her. Wanted to be inside of her while her blood flowed into him. Her life. Her self. The vibrant essence of her. Of Buffy. "Not gonna hide this." That's why she'd worn the bloody turtleneck. So he could bite her without anyone seeing.

"Spike," she whispered, distress starting to creep into her voice. "I'm not… It's not like that…."

"S'okay, love," he murmured, kissing his way along her collarbone, and then down, working his way to her breasts. He understood. It hadn't been shame, just a desire to avoid drama. Much the same as him wanting it kept quiet about his soul. "Not gonna hide things. But doesn't mean we can't keep it private."

He took her right breast into his mouth, sucking at it and drawing in the small amount left behind from Thursday's last feed. She gasped as he gently bit down, whispering, "yes, oh god, yes!" That was permission enough. He shifted position and vamped, biting just hard enough to draw blood as he thrust his aching hardness into her tight warmth. Her body clenched, torn, he knew, between pleasure and pain for the instant before the euphoretic in his saliva hit, tipping the scales and sending her over the edge into completion.

…

...

Angel stared at the ultrasound image. A boy. Wes had said it was a healthy, normal little boy. It wasn't a monster. It wasn't some formless, horrible thing. He hadn't wanted to believe it. Hell, he'd even tried at one point to convince himself it was a hysterical pregnancy and nothing real. But there it was. The image was weird and kind of alien, but it was also beautiful. It was... it was his son. His little baby boy. God…. He swallowed past a sudden lump in his throat. A son. He was…. He and Darla were having a son.

She made a soft sound from the table she was laying on, and Angel looked over at her. She was staring at the image too, and the look in her eyes…. They both knew now. Fear and wonder and an oily nausea roiled through Angel. This baby was real. And it was theirs.

…

...

Buffy checked on Thursday one last time before bed. Still snoozing away peacefully in her playpen. She leaned down to gently stroke the baby's cheek, then turned away to climb back into the bed with Spike. He'd started sleeping on his side again recently, so she curled up along his back, her arm draped over him and her hand pressed to his still-flat belly. Just a couple more months and there would be a sexy baby bump for her to rub her "grubby little slayer paws" all over.

Mmmm. Definitely looking forward to tha- Her thought was cut off as Spike suddenly grabbed her wrist. Oh shit! She tried to wiggle away, thinking he was having one of the episodes where he couldn't tolerate being touched, but he just scooted back against her.

"Quit moving all about," he mumbled sleepily. Then he moved her hand down, pressing her fingers against a spot just above his pelvis.

What was…? She blinked. Something felt different. A sort of firmness that wasn't muscle. It was kind of like he had a little water balloon or something tucked inside. A water balloon….

"Hi, Aliena," Buffy said softly, grinning like an idiot and unable to stop. Not that she really tried all that hard. Giddy joy bubbled through her. She'd known the ritual had worked, but here was physical proof that she could touch. She could feel it with her own hands.

She started to ask Spike how he had missed noticing that with Thursday, but the words died before she could voice them. He wouldn't have missed that. He just hadn't told her. She couldn't even be angry about it, since they hadn't really been on the best of terms at that point. He'd still been having panic attacks if she got too close, so of course he wouldn't have shared something that would have made her all touchy feely.

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, pushing away thoughts of the past. It was over and done with. They couldn't just hide it all away like it had never happened, but they could use the past to grow and heal and refuse to let it taint the present. She lightly rubbed the water balloony spot, letting the joy fill her once again. There she was. Their little girl.