Saturday's Child

Chapter Seventeen

…

Patrick Reynolds lazily scanned the lobby, giving off an air of sleepy indifference that couldn't be farther from the truth. He took his job as a security guard at Wolfram & Hart very seriously, in part because of the pay and excellent dental plan. There was also the fact that if you didn't… well, Larry had been a pretty dumb kid, actually falling asleep on the job for real three times in one month, and then saying he'd do anything not to be fired.

Poor, stupid kid, Patrick thought, shaking his head. Though the ritual sacrifice a couple of weeks ago at the Halloween bash had been one of the real highlights of the entire evening. Larry had been a fantastic screamer, and he seemed to be doing great now as a sort of non-rotting zombie down in filing. No more falling asleep since his type of undead didn't need it, which was a good thing, what with the no eyelids anymore.

A group of people came in through the front doors, and the sleepy act suddenly fell away. There was something about two of them, a pretty brunette and a black man, that caught his attention, though he couldn't quite put his finger on it. The woman planted herself firmly a few yards from the door and turned towards the man, possibly about to start up some kind of spat.

"Romeo, Romeo," she suddenly bellowed. "Whyfort aren't thou Romeo?"

Patrick winced. He wasn't a huge Shakespeare fan or anything, but even he could tell she was butchering the lines. He should shoo her and her companion out of the building, but it was like watching a train wreck. He couldn't seem to do anything other than stare.

"… or if thou willn't, be but sworn my love, and I'll no longer be Crapulent!"

Caught up in the woman's most likely doomed attempt at not being "crapulent", neither Patrick nor anyone else noticed as two young blonde women slipped past and deeper into the building.

…

...

Tara, Buffy thought as they quietly made their way through the building, is a genius. Not only were the two of them wearing don't-look-at-me charms – apparently designed to hide zits and other skin blemishes, and thus not something a law firm would waste resources on doing anything about – but she'd prepared the opposite type of charm for Cordelia and Gunn. The charms didn't force anyone to keep looking at the wearer, it just made them very noticeable. Again, law firm, so full of lawyers fighting to be noticed, and not a thing anyone was going to so much as bat an eye over.

Tara was leading the way, using one of Buffy's hairs as a baby-finding dowsing rod sort of thing. It was more strongly attuned to Thursday since Aliena was just a collection of cells tucked away inside of Spike, but she'd been assured the locator spell could find both. Tara did seem to be moving pretty confidently, but then her steps faltered as they reached an intersection.

Buffy had managed to convince her ritual-enhanced protective instincts that being calm, cool, and collected was the best way to save her family, but she could feel it stirring again. Had the spell failed? Would they have to tear and slaughter their way through the place until she found them? Her feet practically itched with the need to race headlong all over the building, causing as much mayhem as possible.

No, she told herself firmly, taking several deep, calming breaths. We have a plan. It's a good plan, and turning into a rampaging maniac is just going to make things worse, not better.

"What's wrong?" she asked quietly.

"Both directions have a pull," Tara answered. "Left is stronger, though."

"Left," Buffy instantly decided.

Thursday was scared and alone (or scared and with the kind of creepy assholes who would kidnap an infant, which she really, really didn't want to think about right now. Or about how she'd rip out their intestines and tie them into pretty bows). Spike probably was, too, but most of his fear would be for Thursday. The best thing she could do for him was to show up with baby firmly in hand.

They turned to the left and after a couple of yards, there was no need for Tara's spell to lead the way anymore. They were muffled, but there was no mistaking Thursday's "the world is not the way I want it. Fix it. Now!" howls. Before Buffy could break into a sprint, Tara grabbed her shoulder.

"W-we have to act like we belong, remember?" she said, sounding nervous.

Right. Calm. Act like she belonged here in Evil Inc. She could do this. Buffy took a deep breath and slowly let it out. Right. Okay. There were a few people walking around, most of them dressed in lab coats. Science department or something, which was kind of a weird thing for a law firm to have. Maybe they did some of their own forensics or something? Didn't really matter. What mattered was they were keeping her baby here, like she was some kind of science fair project and not an itty-bitty person. Bastards.

They continued on, no one really paying any attention to them. Then they got to the door where the crying was coming from and it took all Buffy's willpower not to kick it down. Several more calming breaths, and then she opened the door.

"…ject seems to have enhance-" The scientist peering down into a clear box sort of thing broke off and frowned at them. "What do you think you're doing? You can't –"

Buffy grabbed the woman's arm, whirled her around, and smashed her face into a control panel while Tara got out a camera and started taking pictures. Don't kill, don't kill, don't kill, she chanted in her mind, though, really, someone who would run experiments on a baby deserved it. You're the Slayer. Don't let them make you a killer. Just rough her up, like Willy.

"Oh, god."

Tara's voice cut through Buffy's thoughts and sent a chill down her spine. She turned to look into the clear box at Thursday. She was red-faced and her angry cries were hoarse, like she'd been at it for so long that her throat was sore. Electrodes were stuck all over her body, and….

White hot rage erupted through Buffy, filling her senses with heat and light. There was a crunch, and a pained, gurgling scream that was cut off by another crunch. She was vaguely aware of someone shouting her name, but that wasn't important right now. These limbs weren't going to break themselves or the wall paint itself with blood, after all.

Something pawed at her shoulder, and she turned and swatted at it, but her arm suddenly felt like it was moving through molasses. An abrupt, sharp sting across her face brought Buffy back to herself. Tara was standing in front of her, looking terrified but determined.

She slapped me, Buffy realized. Why did she…? She glanced down, and immediately felt sick. Oh, god. The scientist was a crumpled heap on the floor, one leg bent the wrong way and her face a pulped mess of blood and drool. She was still breathing, though. Buffy hadn't killed her. But she would have, if Tara hadn't stopped her.

She backed away until she bumped into the clear box that held her still shrieking infant, and the horror suddenly went away as she remembered what had been done to Thursday. They'd cut her. They'd cut her baby girl. Neatly organized little slices along her arms and legs at different depths and stages of healing.

Buffy's hands trembled as she reached down and lifted Thursday out of the box, the baby screaming in her ear before settling down to soft, hiccupping cries. Now that she was being held in familiar arms, she seemed too tired for anything louder, even when Buffy pulled the electrodes off.

"Shh, shh, I got you, sweetie, Mommy's got you," she murmured, her voice thick with unshed tears as she patted her daughter's back. Her mind blanked on a lullaby, but her mouth and vocal cords remembered for her. "Sleep and rest, sleep and rest," she sang softly. "Daddy will…."

Daddy…. Thursday was a Daddy's girl. Buffy glanced around at all the machinery in the room, eyes narrowed. "We're going to destroy all this," she whispered, pressing gentle kisses across Thursday's brow. "And then we're going to go find Daddy, okay?"

…

...

Angel parked his car and stared up the street towards Caritas. He should have been at Wolfram & Hart, leading the rescue of Buffy's child, but, as far as he knew, they still had ways to detect his presence if he was inside the building. His plan to get Spike and the baby out had required Willow's magic to keep them from detecting him. Since there wasn't an inside man to help out like the last time, no Willow meant no place in any plan for Angel.

And so here he was, not far from Caritas while Darla gave birth to their impossible child. He was going to be a daddy. Possibly already was one. Utter terror at the thought overwhelmed him. How was he supposed to take care of a baby? He barely had his own life under any kind of control, and he was supposed to be responsible for the life and wellbeing of an infant?

Spike was apparently good at it. But then, Spike had always been good at taking care of others. Angel had to give him that, at least. It was the entire reason Drusilla had made him, to take care of her and be her playmate when Angel and Darla hadn't felt like paying her any attention. And now that devotion and care was being showered over Thursday and Buffy.

Buffy…. Angel's thoughts drifted to the talk they'd had before the rescue team had headed off to Wolfram & Hart.

"There's nothing between us," she announced bluntly as he went through his tai chi moves in the basement, trying to focus on something other than the rescue mission he was being excluded from. "I was a high school student with a stupid crush, and you're obsessed over some perfect girl on a pedestal who doesn't exist. As much as I'd rather be hitting you right now for forcing that kiss, I'm gonna give you some advice."

He turned to look at her with a slight frown, words of protest on his lips. He wasn't obsessed, and just because he saw the purity in her didn't meant he put her on a pedestal. Before he could say any of that, though, she continued.

"Go be with Darla. It doesn't matter how you feel about her, you two are having a child together. You need to be there for the birth. If you miss it…." She'd stopped talking for a moment and there had been a hint of tears in her eyes. "Just… don't miss it, okay? You'll regret it."

Then she'd turned and gone back up the stairs, leaving Angel staring after her. He didn't know what had happened or even how a male vampire was supposed to give birth anyway, but Buffy hadn't been there for it, something she deeply regretted. She'd told him he needed to see the ultrasound and make it as private as he could. She'd been right about that. She was probably right about this, too.

Right. Okay. He could do this. Time to go be a daddy. He slowly got out of the car, closed and locked it behind him, and headed into Caritas.

…

...

He was feeling a sight less queasy now with the bloody stew out of the room, but Spike was still huddled in the corner, arms wrapped around himself as he rocked back and forth slightly. Soon. Soon, soon, soon. Buffy would come for him soon. He knew she would. Soon. Bit of an odd word, wasn't it? Soooon. Soon. He'd said it so many times in his mind, sounded foreign now. Like some sort of magical incantation.

Buffy will be here soon. Click his heels three times. Tra la la, and off they go back to bloody Kansas. Didn't work as easy as all that in real life, though, did it? How the bloody hell was she meant to be breaking into this place, anyhow? Too bad his cell phone had been among the things they hadn't given back to him. He could have called Willow, get her to have one of her coven jailers teleport him a cake with a file in it or somesuch. Get his own sodding self out of here.

But, no, he was stuck here with only himself to talk to. Unless he decided to go completely barmy and start talking to Dru's pixies. Was a good option, wasn't it? He'd save that one for later, though. Trot it out when things got a mite more boring-like. Maybe threaten to be all sack of hammers at them if they didn't bring Thursday to him.

He'd already tried threatening a hunger strike, but they'd just ignored him and had left him some utterly brilliant fish and chips. Bastards. How was he supposed to go on a proper hunger strike when they went and brought the sort of thing Aliena had him drooling over? So he'd eaten that, but had been firm that he wasn't going to touch the human blood. Except the blood had smelled sodding fantastic – young adult, female, O positive – and they'd probably nicked it from a blood drive, so no death, right? He'd drunk it down, of course, and his hunger strike was off to a smashing start, wasn't it?

Of course, his self-control was good enough that he could have held off for a while, even with a growing sprog demanding fuel, but he'd known there wasn't really much point to it. They'd have just force fed him and still kept Thursday away from him. Keeping his strength up for when Buffy came was his best bet. And she would come. Soon.

He was repeating the word over and over again in his head when the door suddenly burst open and a badly beaten guard was thrown in. At first, he thought he was hallucinating, that none of it was real, especially not the woman standing in the doorway with their daughter in her arms. But then Tara gently nudged past her and started snapping photos, and that was an odd thing to be hallucinating just now.

It was real. They were real. Spike didn't even bother trying to gather his scrambled thoughts. He was up on his feet and at the door within seconds, reaching out to take Thursday from her mum. His baby girl, real and warm and solid in his arms. Poor little bit, she was crying, but seemed to settle down some once he had her.

He closed his eyes and just breathed in her scent for a moment. Sunshine and wildflowers and milky sweetness with a bit of the earthy scent of a vampire and the bold spice of a Slayer. And blood. Over it all, overpowering everything, was the smell of her blood from the cuts all over her arms and legs.

"She'll heal," Buffy said quietly. "She won't even scar, which is more than I can say for the person who did that to her."

She gave him a tight, fierce smile, and he loved her even more than he ever had. She was a warrior and a protector who would fight with all she was for those she loved. He didn't know what had happened between her and Angel, what the kiss he'd seen had been all about. Maybe she'd just wanted to make sure there was nothing there. Hell, maybe the bloody wanker had forced her into it. He didn't know, and right now, it didn't matter. He just knew that he loved her.

She frowned, pulling him out of his thoughts, and dug into her pocket for the backup amulet. She put it over his head, just as she had the night Aliena had been conceived. And that night was proof enough, wasn't it? She loved him, too.

"Do you think we have enough pictures?" she asked, glancing at Tara.

"I think so," the witch answered, putting away her camera and pulling several charm bracelets out of her purse. She held them out to Spike. "Put these on."

While he juggled sprog and charms, Buffy got out her cell phone. "We've found them," she said into it. "And we have pictures of everything, including what the bastards did to Thursday. They…." She had to pause to get a hold of herself. "She's going to be okay, but they hurt her. Real cold, science experiment-y stuff."

"Dear lord," Spike could hear Giles say over the line. "Get her and Spike to safety, and I'll handle the rest. By the time you get back to the hotel, Wolfram & Hart will no longer be a problem."

There was something hard, cold, and deadly in his voice that sent shivers down Spike's spine. There was steel in that stodgy old Englishman, and it seemed this law firm was going to be feeling it.

"Come on," Buffy said, putting her phone away and twining her fingers with his free hand. "Let's get out of here."

And then they simply walked out of his prison, hand in hand with their child snuggled against his side and Tara right behind them.