| Lonely in your Nightmare by bloodshedbaby |
| Chapter #9 - Part 9 (chapters 21-23) |
| Chapter 21 Xander stared in shock. Ok.... this was the same vampire from Parent/Teacher night and Halloween, right? He took a closer look, sure that there had to be some mistake; that there was some other British bloodsucker named Spike that Angel had been talking about. But... no. Even without the lumpies and dressed in camouflage rather than the familiar black that Xander was used to seeing... there was little doubt. It was the same vampire. Just a much more sincere and nicer version. Housebroken, like Spike had accused Angel of being that night the souled demon had offered Xander up for a snack. And hey, he could so live with that. "Er... don't mention it," Xander finally replied, realizing the silence had extended far longer than appropriate, and Spike's 'nicer' face was now clouding with undisguised irritation. But Xander wasn't the only one doing a mental comparison between what was known about William the Bloody and what was being witnessed before their very eyes, actions speaking much louder than the written word. As head of the Watcher's Council, Quentin Travers considered himself quite knowledgeable on the subject of vampires. An expert, actually. Yet, he found himself thoroughly confused and intrigued regarding the subject of one William the Bloody. It had not escaped his notice that he was in the company of two very notorious and dangerous vampires - only... did not feel his life was in jeopardy. Bringing his internal musings to a close and getting down to business, Travers requested the use of a cellular phone; his own cellular phone and the various other electronics he’d been carrying earlier having been stripped the moment they had entered the base. Angel tossed back a secure cellular phone that had been obtained in the same manner as their get away vehicle, wondering what Travers had in mind. It wasn't in him to trust Buffy's boss - yet, found himself with no other option available. However, if Travers dared to double-cross them in anyway, Angel vowed the man would be introduced first hand to the torture that would be met at the hands of a sadistic vampire - soul or no soul. Unaware of the dark thoughts consuming the vampire, Travers lost no time in ringing the Council, setting in motion a new set of plans. This is what he excelled at - giving orders and having them followed without hesitation or question. This was familiar territory for him these days, the head watcher's previous days of violence buried deep in the past. But it hadn't been forgotten. His body had remembered the lethal moves with stunning clarity. It was comforting to know that his edge hadn't been lost behind a desk. Once Travers had been assured by his men that the matter of the base - and those inside - would no longer be a threat, he allowed himself a moment to reflect. Settling himself upon one of the uncomfortable benches that lined either side of the utilitarian truck, Travers wasn't surprised when Giles joined him and questioned his intent. Neither wanted to admit that seeing their slayer in such a state had made them both highly uncomfortable, and by turning their backs on her pained features and barely covered body, the two watchers could pretend, for just a moment, that a birth was not most likely imminent. Before the plan could be discussed, the cellular phone he held in his hand rang and Travers spoke into it tersely before terminating the connection. His usual emotionally-devoid features held a glimmer of satisfaction as he regarded the other occupants of the truck. "We have managed to destroy their satellite. Any outgoing means of communication and surveillance will be quite limited from here on out." Christine couldn't keep the incredulity from flooding her voice, knowing how huge a feat that was. "You have the capabilities to accomplish something like that?" The look Travers gave her in response was more indicative of the man the others were familiar with - arrogant and self-assured. "Yes, quite. The resources the Watcher's Council has at its disposal are innumerable. However, this was merely the beginning." It was clear by the tone in Travers voice that he looked upon the double cross as a personal affront, and the others who were actually listening could only be thankful that they were on the "giving" side rather than the much more typical receiving end. Christine nodded thoughtfully, her head forming a clearer picture of what exactly the 'Watcher's Council' entailed. She realized it was why they had been locked in the comfortable board room and not in a containment cell; her military superiors probably needing the time to investigate the implications of their arrival. And what the backlash would be if they came up missing. Buffy's tired voice filled the confined space. "If it's safe... can someone call my mom and let her know I'm ok?" Giles looked questioningly at Travers, whose curt nod confirmed that this request could be met. "You don't wish to speak with her?" Giles questioned, while the Council was once again contacted. Buffy shook her head, too weary to even think about going through the emotional battle of talking with her mom. A man of few words, Travers was soon able to assure Buffy that her mother would be notified that she was on her way to a safe, secure location, away from the prying eyes of the US government; finding himself heartened by the fact that he had managed to extract a small smile from her. He cursed his own stupidity for not having the foresight to station his men closer to the base - finding this frantic flight across the desert an thoroughly unnecessary expenditure. Travers just hoped they made it that far. "Oh god, here comes another one," Buffy bit out, her face scrunching up with pain. Christine glanced down at her watch, concern shadowing her face. It hadn't been that long since Buffy's last contraction, and while she wasn't the most knowledgeable when it came to pregnancies, she did know that the brief time between contractions did not bode well. Never had she thought she would appreciate being the labor coach for her best friend in high school as much as she did at this moment, since it was clear nobody else had a clue. But that teenage birth had taken place in the controlled, yet chaotic, environment of a county labor and delivery unit. This situation was anything but controlled. Christine glanced over at Spike, who met her gaze. "I think we need to start getting things set up," she announced quietly to the distracted vampire. The look that shimmered in Spike's eyes was piercing with panicked intent, a keen desperation hovering just around the edges. Christine picked up on the subconscious plea and sighed heavily, a slight frown marring her features. Her own body wasn't feeling too good with the after-effects of being tazed, and this wild ride over uneven ground wasn't helping. She couldn't even begin to imagine how it must be for Buffy. And didn't want to. The contraction seemed to pass, but left a thoroughly exhausted slayer in its wake. Buffy lay boneless against Spike, her head lolled to the side and pillowed against the hard chest behind her. "Oh god, I'm going to have my baby in the back of an armored truck, aren't I?" Buffy moaned. "But hey, compared to the alternative, I'll totally take it." "What? You're having the baby? Now?" Xander yelped, eyes bugged as he turned around from the front passenger seat where he'd moved to speak to Angel. Buffy rolled her eyes, taking a moment to appreciate the comfort that came with the familiarity of Xander's off-the-wall comments. "Not so much with the right now, but let's just say, this 'labor thing' isn't going away," she was able to retort, managing a hint of quippy repartee to seep into her voice. Christine's sense of apprehension continued to escalate. "I think we need to get you a bit more comfortable." "I am comfortable," Buffy informed the soldier, moving was the last thing she wanted to do. "As comfortable as I can be, anyway. Spike makes a comfy pillow." Christine heard the snort that came from the front seat, but ignored it. She gave Buffy a pointed look. "Oh, my bad. That was code for Buffy gets to expose herself to the world again, wasn't it?" Christine nodded ruefully. "Yeah. Sorry." She took a quick look around. "Does anybody know anything about delivering babies?" The silence that accompanied her question was expected. "Yeah, that's what I thought." Christine risked a quick glance at Spike, finding herself wanting his permission before proceeding further. "Um... do you want one of the others to do this? Because I'm like the stranger here and..." Spike's head shook curtly. "What, think I want anymore blokes taking a gander at Buffy's privates?" When Christine still looked unconvinced, the vampire gestured to Buffy. "Do it." "Ok. But you had better not attack me for touching her, you got it? You're all possessive and growly. It makes me nervous," she informed him. Spike snorted derisively, but nodded. "I'll keep my fangs to myself. That what you wanna hear?" "Yeah." Christine took another quick glance around, panic trying to build once more. Shrugging it off, she looked at the man who she had only heard referred to as 'Travers' and 'the Head Wanker.' "I don't suppose we can stop, can we? Find a nice hospital to check her into?" Travers shook his head ruefully. "My security experts have advised me against it. My men are getting into place, as we speak. But unfortunately, we still have approximately an hour before we will be under Council protection. Until that time, we need to keep moving." Anticipating the heated argument to the contrary, Travers added, "If absolutely need be, we will not hesitate to seek medical treatment, I assure you." "So basically, it's watch the clock and hope for the best?" Xander summed up. "Yes, unfortunately." Travers took a moment to cast an apologetic look at his exhausted slayer and the vampire she lay against, actually managing to surprise himself with his sincerity. "I'm truly sorry, Buffy. I know this is not an ideal situation for you. However, we have just made some formidable enemies, and until we can get that threat under control, we are forced to tread carefully." Buffy nodded knowingly. "Yeah, I get that. I'd just as soon avoid being snatched by the military again, thank you very much." Her hands slid over her swollen belly in a tender caress. "Plus, I have something they want." Her gaze suddenly found Travers and grabbed hold, fragility and fear bright in the pleading, hazel depths. "Please make sure they can't at us again... I know I haven't been the best slayer, but-" Travers held up one hand to cut off Buffy's heartfelt ramble. "Rest assured that I will do everything in my power to make certain that you, and those close to you, are protected." His smile became brittle. "I have my own score to settle against those who abducted you, never fear." Spike's eyes met Travers' and held them. "I'll hold you to that. But if she gets into trouble with the baby, all bets are off, ya get me? We'll just have to take our chances." tbc OMG, I finally got time to do this chapter!! *headdesk* CHAPTER 22 Travers found himself nodding in agreement, once again intrigued by this legendary vampire. He only hoped he'd be able to garner a few moments in order to properly interview William the Bloody. Perhaps then he would be able to fathom what change of heart had occurred that resulted in the vampire coming to his aid, rather than ripping his throat out. The situation inside the truck had grown decidedly terse as the miles slipped by. Angel couldn't help but worry about the strength of the glamour spell that had been used to transform the exterior of the armored truck into the unassuming guise of a recreational vehicle the moment they had fled from the base, unsure whether it would hold until they reached their destination. In the back of the truck, Christine had taken charge. The situation was something new for her, typically being more comfortable taking orders rather than giving them. But she'd taken to it with surprising ease. Wanting to assure herself of Buffy's comfort, Christine had asked Spike to relocate the pregnant slayer to a pile of folded blankets that had been placed on the hard floor of the truck, hoping the makeshift mattress would provide more padding and help ease the pain in her lower back. The watchers had been directed to face forward in an attempt to give Buffy a bit more privacy than had previous been afforded her. Christine replaced the tweed coat Buffy still wore with another blanket, doing her best to ensure that the girl wasn't exposing anything more than necessary. Confident that she was the only one in the back who would see anything of an intimate nature, the female soldier turned towards the front of the truck to make sure Buffy's spread-eagle position wouldn't be visible to others in the rear view mirror. Christine's eyes narrowed as she squinted into the reflective glass, sure that what she was seeing was some sort of optical illusion. Shifting her body, she peered into it from another direction, starting slightly when her own reflection came into view. While the guy driving refused to reflect. Spike caught the panicked look Christine sent in his direction. "What's got your knickers in a twist, eh?" Christine worried her bottom lip between her teeth. "Ok, at the risk of sounding completely retarded.... You do know the guy driving the truck doesn't have a reflection, right?" A small ghost of a smile appeared on Spike's face. "Well, yeah. That there is Peaches." "Spike..." the vampire in question growled in warning, eavesdropping easily from the front seat. Spike rolled his eyes. "Fine, that's Angelus." "Angel," the dark-haired man corrected automatically. "You could make your own bloody introductions," Spike grumbled, tossing a hard look over his shoulder Christine's eyes darted between the figure seated in the front cab and the vampire who could have killed her - but hadn't. "So... he's like you?" "No!" Both Spike and Angel denied vehemently, leaving Christine even more confused. "But... you're both vampires, right?" she looked helplessly at the two Englishmen for an explanation, knowing that this was their field of expertise, yet finding them engrossed in their own conversation and steadfastly ignoring everything else. "I have a soul. Spike doesn't," Angel tossed back. "Oh." Christine tossed that around in her head for a few seconds, finding the revelation far less disturbing than it should have been. She didn't know exactly what that significance held, but after everything she had been through in the past twenty-four hours, the idea of Spike not having a soul just lacked the conviction to bother her. From what she could tell, he didn't seem to be missing much with the absence of one. But it did bug her that she couldn't see Angel's reflection in the mirror and just hoped that he couldn't actually see anything since she couldn't very well tell him to shut his eyes. Xander had grown unnaturally silent while he sat next to Angel. The combined effect of coming to terms with his friend's pregnancy, the almost unsuccessful rescue, coupled with the slowly dawning realization that he was going to be there when Buffy had her baby had managed to silence him as not much else ever had. Both Giles and Travers couldn't help but view the impending birth with a profound sense of trepidation - yet the academic implications of what they were about to witness could not be denied. The child of a vampire and a slayer. Slayers didn't typically live long enough to have children, and the supernatural origins at work here went far beyond the typical span of normal delivery concerns. Travers found himself in an unusual position, something that hadn't happened ever during his tenure at the Watcher's Council. He was concerned about his slayer. His usual consideration for slayers had never extended beyond their skill and competence. Certainly, he had never allowed himself to form any type of a personal attachment. One of the many things the Council instilled in their employees was to never form attachments, the typical British reserve making that an easy task. However, from the day that she had been called, Buffy Summers had defied tradition, bringing her normally reliable watcher down with her. Travers had frowned upon the close relationship Rupert had developed with his charge, and had even considered re-assigning Buffy to someone else. Timing and Buffy's disappearance had curtailed his plans, however. He'd experienced no real regret at Miss Summers' abduction, merely a tempered annoyance that the Hellmouth was without a slayer to protect it, and subsequently lacking the means of securing a replacement. To his surprise, Rupert and the souled vampire, Angel, had stepped in and taken care of any situations that arose; and Travers had been able to ignore that the slayer had gone missing, merely waiting until he had received word of her death once a new slayer was called. But now? Now he was beginning to appreciate what Rupert Giles had tried to tell him time and time again - something that he had refused to acknowledge. Buffy Summers was special. He was suddenly shamed by his previous callous treatment of her - and those who had come before her. It was not easy for him to admit when he was wrong, but this was something he could finally admit to himself. He had made a mistake. From an academic standpoint, observing the interaction between Buffy and William the Bloody was beyond fascinating, and Travers settled in to observe more closely, wishing he had something with which to document this unusual event. Furtively, he turned his head to check the slayer's progress. *** Buffy's contractions quickly became more intense, stealing her breath and sapping her strength. Travers kept a close eye on the map and clock, again cursing his ego that had assured him that stringent precautionary measures were unnecessary. It was a race against the clock. A harrowing journey to remain out of the military's clutches while ensuring the continued well-being of the laboring slayer. But their time had suddenly run out. With a look of utter panic, Buffy's eyes frantically found Christine's at the peak of another contraction. "I think this is it..." Christine nodded and with a warning look at the males present who were attempting to avert their eyes, brought Buffy's knees up and gently parted them so she could take a look. Modesty had long since taken a back seat, and Christine was doing the best with the supplies that had been located in the truck's storage spaces. Fortunately, the armored truck, with its mystical convergence, had been used as a getaway car on multiple occasions and was well stocked with useful items. The interior had been completely stripped except for the barest necessities, offering more room to work with, and for that, Christine was grateful. But upon inspection of the first aid kit, she realized there was not much in it that would be of assistance during a delivery. The need for bandages and antiseptic not as high up on the list as other more specialized supplies. But now was not the time to lament on what the kit lacked, instead Christine found her heart skipping a few beats when she peered between Buffy's parted thighs. Buffy had been right, this was it. They were too far away from their rendezvous point - and with nothing but miles and miles of desert surrounding them, time had become their enemy. Looking up, Christine captured Buffy's pain-glazed eyes. "I see the top of the head," the soldier announced quietly, hoping her panic wasn't being reflected in her voice. Fear and relief stamped itself on Buffy's face and Christine took a deep breath to get herself pulled together. Her friend didn't need freaking out right now; she needed an air of confidence that Christine really knew what she was doing. Even if she really didn't. The silence inside the truck became telling, as if everyone was holding their breath in unison, all of them not able to help the thoughts that ran through their heads that they were glad they weren't the ones about to give birth. Christine drew her eyes away from Buffy's to look at Spike, wanting to make sure he knew that this was the final overture. She owed him this; instead of killing her as had been the plan, Spike had essentially spared her life, and ended up saving it as well. His quick nod to her was reassuring. Taking another deep calming breath, Christine prepared herself to deliver their baby. After an addition twenty minutes of excruciating contractions, Buffy dug deep to give a final push and delivered a baby girl into Christine's waiting hands, coming just as Christine had been about to inquire how far away the nearest medical facility might be. The strength-stealing drugs the slayer had been given at the base had made bearing down to push the baby down the birth canal an almost impossible task, but she’d managed to persevere in the end, calling on some hidden strength of mothers round the world. Christine didn't think that Spike was even aware that he had gone all fangy and had grown increasingly growly during every contraction while he whispered encouragement into Buffy's ear. In light of everything else that had happened, Christine found herself not the least bit threatened by this brutal reminder of exactly what Spike was. With one last order for Buffy to push and a harsh cry from the girl in question, a lusty cry reverberated through the van as the baby was thrust from its warm secure environment of its last nine months and rewarding their efforts with a tiny cry. Hands shaking and tears streaming down her face, Christine quickly wrapped the newborn in a blanket and gently laid her on Buffy's stomach. Using a piece of twine, she tied off the umbilical cord in two places and severed it with the trauma sheers that Xander had sterilized; fervently hoping that she was doing it right. When nothing changed in the quality of the baby's cries, Christine gave a sigh of relief, her panic over having done something wrong beginning to diminish slightly. "It's a girl," Christine announced unnecessarily, catching Buffy's eyes for a brief second, choking up as she watched Buffy and Spike greet their daughter for the first time. Carefully, Buffy scooted up just the slightest bit so that she could hold her baby. "We knew it was girl," Buffy remarked softly, barely able to comprehend that this had truly happened, that she was getting to hold her child. Her face transformed into a mask of serene bliss, the pain of the birth already slithering away to be buried into her sub-conscious. She looked up at Spike with a soft smile. "We have a baby girl." Spike's ridges and fangs melted away, and his own blue eyes were suspiciously bright. Gathering Buffy into his arms, he pressed a tender kiss to her forehead, suddenly incapable of the speech. They’d had every intention of following Christine's orders to keep their backs to Buffy, but the allure of the impending birth grew too much and both Travers and Giles had found themselves turning around as the slayer struggled through her final stages of labor. They couldn't help but watch with an almost morbid sense of fascination, finding themselves studying William the Bloody and his participation in the birth with an almost reverent regard. His interaction with their slayer was truly remarkable. When the cellular phone invaded the tranquil silence following the birth, Travers gave a slight jump of alarm. When he was assured that the compound -and those inside - had been eliminated, he informed the others dispassionately. In light of this most recent miracle, it seemed almost anticlimactic that their enemy no longer posed as much of a threat. They still had to reach the safe zone, however. tbc thank you once again to Spikeskat for beta'ing and copykween! Chapter 23 In the wake of such an intimate event, a profound silence settled throughout the interior. Except for the female soldier, none of the hardened men, or the lone teenage boy, had ever bore witness to the miracle that is childbirth. There was a heavy cloud of awe in the air, each overwhelmed with the part they'd played, and the fruit of that labor that was still crying mightily in her mother's arms. That was until the high-pitched creak of a lowered window and a sudden burst of wind erupted through the confined space with all the subtly of a champagne cork welcoming a New Year, as the van raced ever onward. "What the hell are you doing?" Xander yelped, as he threw the vampire behind the wheel an incredulous look. "Just... need... some... fresh air," Angel mumbled, and it was at that moment that Xander realized the demon seated next to him was sporting a full set of ridges and fangs. "Well, turn up the air conditioner then! What in the holy hot dog buns is wrong with you? Open window bad... remember? Makes glamour spell go bye-bye?" "Put up that bloody window and pull yourself together, you fuckin' sod," Spike yelled from the back, arms still wrapped around Buffy as he held her against his chest, their daughter cradled protectively in the slayer’s arms, knowing that her body heat was crucial for the baby. He couldn't stop staring at the tiny features, unable to believe that this was his living, breathing flesh, swathed like a burrito in the slayer's arms. His slayer. His daughter. "She's still bleeding," Angel growled back, practically salivating at the smell - and hating himself for it. "Stop thinking with your bloody fangs, you wanker," Spike grumbled, noting that Christine flinched at the reminder of exactly whose company she was in, but doing nothing to assure her. The succulent aroma of slayer's blood was almost over-whelming, even for him - and he had lived with it for the past months. It was everywhere, forcing its way down into every sense the demon inhabited, taunting, teasing... Spike couldn't even blame Angel for his lack of control. Not that he'd ever tell him that, of course. "I... uh... think it might just be the placenta," Christine replied, her voice wobbling with sudden panic as she shoved a towel between Buffy's legs to catch the new onslaught of blood flow. Her eyes searched Buffy's face for any signs of strain that might indicate possible decompensation, but found her friend doing surprisingly well considering the ordeal she had just suffered through; her features were relaxed and bore the awed expression of post partum mothers everywhere. Aside from an unnatural pallor, it would have been impossible to tell that she had just suffered an excruciating and terrifying labor. "Do we need to get her to a hospital?" Angel asked, having thrust his burgeoning bloodlust behind his accursed shiny barrier of humanity, his voice now low with worry. Christine took the towel away and gave a sigh of relief when she noted the bleeding appeared to have slowed and something icky that could only be the placenta having joined all the other yucky stuff on the pile of blankets under Buffy. "It's ok, I think it's getting better." "Maybe we should find a hospital..." Spike mentioned, worry setting in. "The girl needs a bit of blood in 'er." "Spike, I'll be fine," Buffy opened her eyes long enough to argue, her body just wanting to rest. No, not just wanting - pleading for rest. Buffy couldn't remember ever being so exhausted and sore in her entire life, and the lure of sleep was becoming almost painful to evade. "Pet, not sure if you are fine," Spike argued, fear of losing her now after all they had gone through practically paralyzing him. "With your pregnancy anemia... then with me taking it from ya-." Xander was quick to pick up on the meaning behind Spike's words. "You bit her? Drank her blood? When she was pregnant?" he accused, any respect that had grown for the vampire in the last hour was in danger of being seriously forfeit with that little admission. Before Spike could respond, Buffy buoyed herself up to confront her friend, well aware of the prejudice that was most likely in place. "Can we so not do this right now?" Buffy pleaded tiredly. "It's really not as bad as it sounds, ok?" Something clicked and understanding dawned in Christine's eyes. "Ah! So that's how you were able to counteract the drugs this time, and not be all handicapped vamp," she announced, admiration shining in her gaze. Spike's nod of admission was curt, not quite able to cloak the small shadow of guilt that lurked behind the vivid blue backdrop of his eyes. "That was pretty crafty," Christine told him. "Bet those morons never even thought of that possibility." "Don't think they really had a soddin' clue what a slayer was, much less what slayer's blood could do for a vamp." Angel sighed heavily at the continuing reference to slayers blood. There was only so much he could take. "So do we need to stop or not?" he asked, his demon much quieter under the rigid constraint of his soul. But if he was honest with himself, it wasn't just the weight of the soul. It was the knowledge that Spike had taken care of Buffy when she had needed him; and although his demon was screaming for him to rip the younger vampire away from Buffy and establish himself as her mate, he now had too much respect for what had been done to even entertain acting on his inherent impulses. No matter what had occurred in the past between the two vampires, Spike now had Angel's respect. Spike opened his mouth to voice his opinion but Buffy cut him off. "We're not stopping," she said firmly, cradling the now slumbering bundle more firmly in her arms. "We can't risk it." Spike looked ready to argue but Buffy turned her head to capture his eyes and gave him her best resolve face. "Don't even start with me. You know I'm right. What are we supposed to tell them? Because having to explain a virgin birth and baby that is half vampire is not something-" "You're still a virgin?" Xander blurted out, his head swiveling around from his position in the passenger seat. That disturbing declaration, by far, the most shocking thing he had heard thus far. A hint of crimson colored the unnatural pallor of Buffy's cheeks and she cast her eyes downward. "Um..." "What the bloody hell is your problem, you git?" Spike's expression was murderous as he regarded the boy who had probably saved his undead ass earlier. "That is none of your soddin' business." Xander held up his hands in an attempt at peace. "You're right, my bad. Forget I asked. Because the visual there? So don't need it." "Not the only one," Spike heard Angel mutter from the front compartment. Any further conversation was quelled by the frantic cries of the baby, and Buffy's eyes widened with panic as she looked down into the angry red face of her daughter. |