a/n-You guys like it, thank god! Thank you sooo much for all the reviews!! Mucho thanks goes to spikeskat for beta'ing this chapter
chapter 3
After Buffy took care of her tab, she wasted no time in leaving. The live entertainment that had just kicked off provided not the slightest bit of interest. She was no longer comfortable around people and craved the quiet solitude of her motel room.
Ignoring the leers and crude comments while making her escape, she breathed a sigh of relief as she pushed the heavy wooden door open and quickly exited, relieved that nobody had bothered to follow her. Her slayer sense was still firing, and her cool, accessing eyes immediately went to work surveying her surroundings. Seeing nothing out of the ordinary, Buffy walked around the side of the building to check out the alley, misplaced nostalgia of the Bronze suddenly striking hard.
The alley was empty yet a foreboding feeling continued to spread through her. A flurry of kicks taking place inside her abdomen left her momentarily distracted, and that was when it happened.
She was suddenly slammed from behind, sandwiched between unforgiving brick and a hard, lean body behind her, the swell of her abdomen crushed against the solid wall in front of her.
And with that, her slayer's innate sense of preservation kicked in.
With a growl, she threw her head back to butt her attacker in the face, but her bound hair was quickly caught in an unrelenting fist and her head yanked to one side, leaving her neck nice and exposed.
"Get off me!" she yelled, attempting to free herself from the bands of steel that held her imprisoned.
A low chuckle reached her ears and she gasped when her attacker ground his erection against her butt. "Nice to see you again, Slayer," a low British voice whispered into her ear.
Buffy stilled, her heart suddenly pounding. "Spike?"
"Got it in one, pet. Seems to me our last encounter over Halloween ended with us somewhat in this position," he commented mockingly, his hips moving in a slow circle against her ass once more. "Well, maybe not entirely this position."
Buffy closed her eyes and cursed the fates. She tried one more time to extricate herself from Spike's iron grip, only to find her efforts failed.
With the certain knowledge that these were her last moments on this earth, her regret was great. She would die without seeing those she loved again.
But then a tiny voice started whispering in her head that when her life ended, so would the life that grew within her and the constant flight, and suddenly death appeared as an inviting release. Making a monumental decision, Buffy breathed a sigh of defeat and forced herself to relax in the tight hold Spike had on her.
And waited.
Spike sniffed the air, wanting to savor the sweet smell of her fear, frowning a bit when it was denied him. He grinned knowingly. The Slayer had herself a bit of a death wish. He'd seen it before; it was right there in the passive tilt of her head, the eyes that had fluttered shut.
He knew that he had not bested her, that she was merely giving herself to him.
But his third slayer.... Bloody hell, the stuff of legends. He was mildly curious as to what she was doing in this rat hole, but he quickly thrust it out of his mind. Gnawing at him was the knowledge that he hadn't bested her in battle, but that too went by the wayside. He no longer abided by his old rules of conduct.
Giving her one last opportunity to attempt to fight him, to try to steal this victory for herself, he slowly leaned in and nuzzled the bare expanse of neck, licking a moist trail down that tempting column of throat in a mocking parody of a lover.
He smiled when she shivered in response.
The moment he touched her though, something began tugging at his senses. A tiny niggling that something wasn't right here, warning him to proceed with caution. His rising bloodlust only added to his confusion and Spike actually found his intent wavering.
He had the bloody slayer right where he wanted her, just begging to be bit, and he was hesitating. He looked over at her, eyes closed, just ripe for the picking and her passive acceptance of death suddenly angered him.
It was always about the fucking Slayer.
With a impatient snarl, he struck, his fangs sliding through the delicate skin with ease. He moaned against her neck in ecstasy as the warm, succulent sweetness of her blood came bursting into his mouth, his hips pistoning forward to grind his hardened cock against her backside. His internal struggle over taking her this way all but forgotten.
Attuned to every beat her heart took, he momentarily faltered when a foreign beat suddenly rose apart from hers, and it was at that very moment, the taste of blood changed. A subtle shift that had him ripping his fangs away and staring down at her bleeding neck in shock.
Confused green eyes slowly opened to stare up at him over her shoulder, silently pleading for him to finish the job. Because this suddenly made sense to her. If she was going to leave this world, it was only fitting that he be the one to do it.
She was tired of running.
But his fangs never returned, instead he suddenly tossed her aside as he backpedaled from their intimate embrace. In his haste, he stumbled to the ground where he remained, not bothering to pick himself back up.
And all the while he stared.
Spike's demonic eyes melted back to familiar blue, his gaze burning a hole right through her as she slowly turned around to face him. Careful-like. As if any undue motion would trigger a repeat of his attack. Buffy looked down at the blond-headed vampire where he’d yet to move from the ground and could see a wealth of confusion swimming in their murderous depths. Her own gaze, no doubt, mirroring her confusion.
"S-spike?" Buffy found herself asking in a halting voice, wondering why she wasn't running away. Why she wasn't taking advantage of the fact that she wasn't dead. But the intensity of his stare kept her rooted firmly in place.
"How?" Spike finally ground out, his eyes raking her slight form.
Buffy shook her head in confusion. "What are you talking about?"
"In your blood...," Spike began heatedly, getting to his feet and stalking towards her, "I tasted...," his voice trailed off.
"What, Spike?" Buffy demanded.
"Me."
Buffy blinked as his revelation washed over her, bile suddenly making its way up her throat. "Oh god...." Her arms came around to wrap themselves around her middle, and Buffy attempted to push the nausea back.
Suddenly, Spike grabbed her upper arms in a vise-like grip, his eyes murderous as he glared into her face. "How?" he growled dangerously. "And don't fuck with me, Slayer."
Rage suddenly coursed through her, and Buffy knocked his arms away in an easy show of strength. She planted both hands against his chest and shoved him away from her, returning his glare with a heated look of her own. "Don't touch me."
"Tell me."
Without ceremony, Buffy took a step back, her fingers finding the buttons to her coat. As she worked the buttons through the holes, she briefly wondered why this little show and tell was even necessary, why he hadn't heard the extra heartbeat and guessed for himself. Slipping the jacket from her shoulders, she unveiled the curve of her abdomen to his furious eyes and watched as his eyes widened with disbelief.
The Slayer was pregnant.
Bloody hell.
His fury fled in the wake of the Slayer's revelation. But how...
"Don't suppose you spent any quality time with the military lately?" she asked in a small voice.
It was at that moment Buffy realized Spike's bad ass exterior was just a front. The myriad of human emotions that flew across his face were as telling as if he'd suddenly started spouting poetry. Nothing that was supposed to be as evil as Spike had made himself out to be could be capable of such depth.
And she had her answer.
Suddenly, the reality hit.
The paternity and species of this baby was no longer unknown.
It had a father.
The tears that she had denied for the last seven months suddenly threatened to break free, and Buffy knew it couldn't happen here. Not in this alley. Not like this. She'd repressed far too much.
She offered him a watery nod and began to make her way out of the alley.
She hadn't taken more than two steps before his voice called out in angry disbelief, "Where the bloody fuck do you think you're going?"
"It's late. And I'm tired. I'm going back to my motel," she told him quietly without turning around, wiping an errant tear off of her cheek.
Spike saw the defeated bow of her head, heard the tale tell sniffles and cursed his softer side. She looked terrible and his bloodletting earlier hadn't helped.
She may be the bloody slayer, but things had changed.
She carried his child.
And that made all the difference.
tbc...
awww, I'm so predictable...
Keep in mind that Buffy was 'kidnapped' just after season 2 Halloween, so she hasn't learned about anything Drusilla yet.
a/n-Once again, major thanks to Spikekat for the awesome beta job. And don't worry, I'm not bringing Dru in this story. I only mentioned it to explain Buffy's lack of inquiring where she was. Also, it's not exactly the Initiative, but that will be explained later.
Chapter 4
With a growl of sudden possessiveness that managed to take even him by surprise, he snarled, "Not without me, you're not."
His tone chased her tears and any impending melt-down away, causing her to bristle in response to his overbearing tone. "Excuse me? You go from trying to kill me to Mr.'Tell-Me-What-To-Do' Guy?"
To her surprise, the fierce countenance he wore softened and he took a step forward to slide his cool palm into her much warmer one, lacing his fingers with hers. His eyes dared her to pull away. "Well, yeah. That's my baby in your belly, Slayer. Think that gives me a bit o' say-so."
It was on the tip of her tongue to argue that he had no rights whatsoever, but found she couldn't voice that particular lie. She instinctively tensed when his head tipped in her direction, but refused to pull away. When she felt his tongue gently tracing the throbbing mark on her neck, the sudden gasp that left her throat was unexpected.
Satisfied that his bite had been properly tended to, and that she was no longer in danger of losing any more blood because of his actions, he pulled back and gave her a cocky smile.
Not sure exactly how she should respond, Buffy decided to ignore what he had just done, and more importantly, how it had made her feel. She settled for tossing him a dirty look, yet didn't protest when he led out of the dark alley. Ignored, too, the security she felt with her hand nestled within his.
As they walked along the quiet streets, Buffy found herself reflecting upon the fact that her entire life had changed in the span of mere minutes, yet again.
No words were spoken on the short walk, and upon reaching the motel that was her home for the night, Buffy unceremoniously unlocked the worn-down door.
Knowing that an official invite wasn't required, Buffy merely waved Spike in and watched warily as he stalked into the dimly lit room, his typical swagger in full effect.
"Nice place you got here," he commented dryly, looking around.
Buffy merely shrugged, refusing to meet his eyes. She shook off her coat and threw it over the back of the only chair in the room, feeling the intensity of Spike's gaze as it honed in once more on her abdomen.
Strangely, it wasn't the vampire side of him that was cause for her sudden discomfiture, even though his fangs had almost been responsible for her death earlier. Rather, it was the man that had been revealed to her when that cocky mask had slipped that was strangely unnerving. Buffy knew very little about him except what had been shared in relation to his prowess as a 'slayer of slayers'. Yet, there was something different about him. She had sensed it the moment she had locked her eyes on him at the Bronze that first time.
Buffy flinched when she felt the cool touch of his fingers tracing the brutal mark on her neck and she jerked away from the intimate contact angrily, her eyes flashing steely emerald.
He ignored her heated look. "Sorry about bitin' ya, pet. If I'da known, I wouldn't 'ave tried to off ya tonight."
Buffy snorted, finding a morbid amount of humor in that comment. "Yeah, well, if I would have known, I wouldn't have been letting you."
Spike looked at her in surprise, his intense blue eyes questioning, finding himself not wanting to read too much into what she had just said. Lowering himself down into the only chair that occupied the room, he kicked his feet upon the desk, his pose relaxed. He watched as the Slayer turned and headed to the small bathroom.
"You wouldn't have?" he could help but ask.
Buffy stilled and looked over her shoulder at him in confusion, not sure where his question stemmed from.
"If you had known it was mine," Spike began, his eyes searching the haunted green for a glimmer of truth, suddenly realizing that this was important. "...you wouldn't have been letting me have my one good day?"
It dawned on Buffy what he was asking, and the answer was so clear. "No, I wouldn't have. I was just...tired."
Spike didn't need her to elaborate, and he nodded.
"We need to talk."
Buffy sighed. "Yeah. But it's going to have to wait. This thing is squashing my bladder." With that comment, she grabbed a change of clothes and disappeared behind the bathroom door.
****
When Buffy had finished with her bedtime ritual and changed into a pair of oversized sweats that she could still fit into, she found herself exhausted despite the lengthy nap earlier. As she exited the bathroom, she noticed Spike right where she'd left him.
She looked around and realized he had taken the only chair in the room, so she climbed onto the room’s only bed warily. The soft mattress was as welcoming as it had been earlier when it had lulled her into a lengthy slumber and the slayer curled up on her side, hugging a pillow to her chest. Buffy knew he hadn't taken that much blood, but combined with the typically anemic affects of pregnancy, she was exhausted.
Spike watched her, noting her pale complexion and the dark circles under her eyes. He could feel the intensity of her blood in his system, sharpening every sense. Making him feel like he was bloody alive. Only at the same time, it was making him feel ill. His eyes roamed over her tiny body, taking in her bulging tummy before returning to her face – and it suddenly came to him what it was.
Guilt.
Bloody hell.
"Spike?"
It took him a minute to realize she had addressed him. "Wot?"
"Can you hear the baby's heartbeat?"
He nodded. "Yeah, I can now. But it's not normal. Not like the beat of a human baby."
Not like the beat of a human baby....
Buffy closed her eyes, her sigh heavy as she processed this new bit of information.
They flew open again when she felt the mattress dip next to her, her gaze questioning as Spike removed the pillow she held clutched to her chest and he settled on the bed next to her, lying on his side so that he was facing her.
"What are you doing?"
"Shhh."
Buffy didn't protest when she felt his hand work its way under her oversized shirt, fingers splaying against the hard swell. His skin was warm and she figured she could thank herself for that– her slayer’s blood no doubt providing the borrowed heat. But his touch was gentle and oddly, calming.
"It mimics your heartbeat," he finally said.
"Huh?" Her brows drew together in confusion.
"Bite size Spike. Its heart beats in time with yours."
Oh god, he's given it a nickname , Buffy thought with a rush of panic.
"Don't call it that," Buffy ground out, trying to push out images of a blonde haired baby with blue eyes out of her mind.
She watched his eyes turn cold, the previous wonderment and softness gone. "Why?" he demanded, old insecurities rising up and taking a chokehold. Of course the fucking slayer wouldn't want his bastard. How could he ever have fooled himself to think otherwise?
Desperate green eyes bored into his, pleading for him to understand. "Because I don't know if I'll be giving birth to something I'm going to have to kill, is why," she finally admitted softly.
He tensed, tossing her words around. For a vamp who'd prided himself on reading human emotion, he'd more than missed the mark with this one. The chit was bloody terrified of feeling anything for the wee one. "It's the man in this body that manufactures the semen, pet. Not the demon."
Hope filled her eyes. "So it's human?"
He shook his head, already knowing the answer to that. "No. But I reckon the demon will be in the backseat. And if not...," his voice trailed off. "Well, we'll cross that bridge later."
Buffy nodded, understanding what he wasn't telling her. It was his baby and she instinctively knew Spike would never let it be destroyed, no matter how evil it turned out to be.
And oddly, she was ok with that.
"You ok, pet?"
"Just peachy," she commented bitterly.
"So, what happened?"
Buffy looked pointedly down at her abdomen. "Thought it was obvious."
Spike gave an impatient growl. "S'not wot I mean. In... that place."
Buffy wasn't quite quick enough to mask the instinctive fear and panic at the very mention of where she'd been held captive. It suddenly angered her to see Spike's sympathetic look and she lashed out at him, her words the only weapons she had at her disposal right now.
In a cold and clinical voice, she replied, "They drugged me on patrol one night and when I woke up, I found out they had stolen my slayer strength. They had me in a cage for over a month, and my only time out of that cell was when they shackled me to a gurney and shoved things up my cunt," her voice caught on the unfamiliar crudeness. "Their mission was a roaring success and I was knocked up by demon seed. Then I escaped. The end."
Spike was quiet and Buffy didn't dare look up. Couldn't stand to see the barest hint of compassion on the face of this monster.
Except she was coming to find out that he really wasn't.
The silence crept by, uneasy and tense. Finally, Spike broke it by quietly uttering, "I'm sorry."
If she hadn't been quite so exhausted, she might have dealt with his sincere apology a bit better. As it was, misplaced blame made her see red and she took it out on the creature who had tried to end her life tonight. "You're SORRY? What, sorry that I had my virginity stolen by the military wielding overzealous speculums? Or sorry that I was violated again and again so they could shove your sperm up inside me? Don't tell me, did they give you little porno magazines to read while you jerked yourself off?" Tears of frustration steamed down her cheeks. "Or did you have someone else do it for you?"
Spike's jaw clenched, the cords of his neck becoming more pronounced the longer Buffy lashed out at him.
Buffy could feel the anger practically vibrating off of him, and when his hands came up to grip her upper arms, her glittering hazel eyes locked in challenge with his angry blue.
"No, Slayer, it wasn't a pretty picture like that at all." Spike's voice was furious, yet controlled. "Those fuckers stripped me, chained me up, bloody well starved me, shot me full of I don't know what kind of drugs, then attached some of their fancy little toys to some very sensitive parts of my anatomy." He reached down with one hand and crudely cupped his crotch for emphasis. "They juiced my privates but good, then ordered me to wank off. When I told them where they could shove it, they turned the juice back on. And left it on."
Spike rose up on one elbow to stare down at her, his expression hard. "Sorry to disappoint, but if given the choice to wank off on command or suffer the most excruciating torture of my existence..., -and that is saying a lot because vampire here, we can handle pain. Well, it wasn't really that hard of a choice."
With one more hard look, Spike flopped onto his back, the barely repressed rage and helplessness he had felt during his capture now brought back to light.
He was shocked to feel the hesitant touch of a warm palm wrap itself around one of his tightly clenched fists.
"I'm sorry," came her hesitant apology, causing Spike's eyes to fly to her face. The Slayer was apologizing to him?
"Could have sworn that is what I said to you, then you got all hot and hormonal," Spike replied, studying her out of the corner of his eye.
Rather than the backlash he'd expected to receive, he watched as the slayer's face crumpled, silent tears quickly pooling over and streaming down her hollow cheeks.
Christ, she's so young, he thought, his hand moving of its own volition to wrap around her to pull her closer. Bloody tears... They got him every time. He was such a git.
Sniffling, Buffy allowed the contact and shook her head ruefully. "God, I'm not usually hot and hormonal, as you so eloquently put it. It's just been so...," her voice trailed off as her brain was unable to come up with a word that truly described what the past months had been like. "With the running and stuff."
"I know." And he did, recapture being his biggest fear. It had kept him quiet, not wanting to draw a bit of attention to himself, so unlike his previous Big Bad persona. It wasn't like him to hide. "And then you run into me in this shithole, and I almost off you, but instead you find out that it was my sperm they shoved inside you," he added.
Buffy lifted her tear soaked face sharply. "No, you don't understand. That's been the only good thing that has happened since I escaped."
At his questioning look, Buffy gave him a small hint of a smile. "I guess my bitchy Buffy routine didn't help, did it? See, they didn't tell me what they were doing to me. I had no idea what they had put inside me. We're talking some major freakage here. I had visions of giving birth to Baby Octo-Buffy or something. So to find out that it's yours?" Buffy shrug was deliberately vague. "As far as I'm concerned, that's totally of the good in this scenario. Because at least, hello, human." Before he could argue, she added with a small smile, "Or sorta, anyway."
tbc
a/n-hopefully this answered some questions! Have got to say THANK YOU for all the reviews on this, I'm so glad you like it!
Thanks to spikeskat for beta'ing (sooo glad you're out of school for the summer sweetie!) and to Megan for keeping me going with this one.
Even on the darkest night when empty promise means empty hand
And soldiers coming home like shadows turning red
When the lights of hope are fading quickly then look to me
I’ll be your homing angel,I’ll be in your head.
Because you’re lonely in your nightmare let me in...
And there’s heat beneath your winter let me in...
* Lyrics from Lonely in your Nightmare by Duran Duran*
Chapter 5
After Buffy's revelation, they settled into a comfortable silence. Comfortable not being something that she would have ever associated with this hard edged, ruthless vampire. Yet, with Spike's arms wrapped around her, she almost felt... safe.
It was something she hadn't felt since Sunnydale.
Held tight in his possessive embrace, the unfamiliar feeling of security invading her being, she had almost been lulled to sleep when she felt Spike's hand shift from her hip to her belly, as if affirming that the life growing inside her womb was his. Theirs. And she found herself instinctively leaning into his touch, rather than flinching away.
Spike was listening to the steady thump of the slayer's heart beating, trying to discern the subtle difference between hers and the baby's. The dual patterns almost hypnotizing in their synchronicity – before the vampire was caught off guard when he felt the slight kick beneath his hand from the child within the Slayer's womb.
Bloody hell!
"It's really alive in there," he murmured in wonder.
"Or really undead," Buffy replied sleepily, without thinking.
Spike's hand stopped the slow, soothing circles against her bare skin. "Will that really matter?" he asked quietly, knowing instinctively it was too soon to ask that.
Always being avoidy girl, Buffy did just that, effectively changing the subject to something else just as unpleasant.
"Did you get away the same time I did? About six months ago? They didn't just let you go, did they?"
Spike snorted. "No, they didn't just bloody well let me go. I reckon I got out the same time you did."
"How did that come about anyway? What happened that we were just able to get away like that?"
He looked at her in surprise. "You don't know?"
"Would I be asking if I did?" she snapped before looking properly chagrined. "Sorry. No, I don't."
Ignoring her bitchy outburst, his fingers began rubbing her abdomen once more, reestablishing the soothing, gentle circles. "From what I was able to suss out, they made the mistake of capturin' a K'tilck demon. Nasty buggars. Its friends an' family weren't too happy about the incarceration and subsequent experimentation."
A small frown appeared. "So why was my cell unlocked then?"
"Near as I can figure, they cut the power to the holdin' cells in hopes of creatin' a diversion."
Buffy flinched. "I, uh, didn't realize there were that many holding cells."
"Can't say as I was really lookin' around. Nearly didn't get out, you know. Had to break a few necks to do so, which is bloody difficult when you're weak as a kitten, lemme assure you."
Buffy couldn't begrudge him the killing, knowing she would have easily joined in to gain her own freedom. The room grew silent as both Spike and Buffy fell victim to their thoughts.
Some minutes later, Buffy finally voiced what had chased away any hint of sleepiness, her gut churning as she thought of the future.
"Spike?"
"Yeah, pet?"
"What's going to happen now?"
Spike caught the fear that the Slayer tried to mask from bleeding into her voice and his gentle ministrations to her abdomen stilled once more.
"Well, that all depends," he finally answered.
"On...?" Buffy asked, her bottom lip jutting out in her confusion, and Spike was unprepared for the sudden wave of protectiveness that seared him.
"On you, pet." He caught her questioning look. "I don't abandon what belongs to me, Slayer. Whether you like it or not, you're stuck with me now. How much you fight me...well, as I said, that is gonna depend on you."
At the uncertain look in her eye, he sighed with frustration. "Look. I was with the same bloody woman for over a hundred years, yeah? And she didn't have all of her marbles most of the time. So you can be sure it wasn't always a walk in the bloody park. It didn't matter though. I took care of her, watched over her, never once thought about throwin' in the towel when the going got too rough."
"What happened to her?" Buffy had picked up on the tinge of anger and hurt he had tried to hide behind an impassive tone, but his eyes had betrayed him.
"Fickle bitch," he ground out. "We were in Sunnydale, you know, when I was tryin' to off you. After I escaped, I tracked her down for our soddin' Hallmark reunion and discovered she'd already shacked up with a Chaos demon." He couldn't keep the disgust off his face. "You ever see one o'those? They're all slime and antlers. She wouldn't leave him, said I'd been tainted ."
Spike tried to swallow the bitter taste of betrayal that talking about that particular wound had opened. Shaking it off, he fixed her with a penetrating look. "Anyway, I've got you now. I don't figure on makin' a return trip to New Mexico anytime soon, so you've got someone else to help you look over your shoulder... whether you like it or not."
He couldn't tell what she was thinking and offered her a lopsided smile. "Think you can manage to trust me enough to keep us from gettin' scooped up again??"
Buffy blinked, absorbing what he had just asked her. Trust? He wanted her to trust him. Months ago, she would have thought that concept absurd. The Slayer trust a vampire? Well, a vampire besides Angel, at any rate. Yet, at this moment, she didn't have to dig too deep for her answer.
"Yeah, I think I can try."
A brief look of awe transformed his features, then was gone so quickly, Buffy thought she had imagined it. But as he smiled at her, the slayer realized it was the first time she had seen him do so without false pretenses. It struck her, yet again, how much humanity he seemed to have retained and a sense of relief began to grow and spread throughout her, gaining momentum as it hummed along.
She wasn't alone anymore.
And that night, as she lay sleeping in his arms, the nightmares stayed away.
*****
3 months later
It had been difficult, at the beginning, relinquishing her rigid control to Spike, her life having been so regimented up until the point that he'd crossed paths with her. But it didn't take long to realize that he was a vampire of his word. He took care of them and she gradually stopped questioning his every move and motive.
He was trustworthy. And the very fact that she could trust him, a vampire without a soul, with her life was something she found both unique and liberating.
In the months that had followed Spike's arrival into her life, a subtle shift had begun to occur. They became friends. He made her laugh. He left her alone when she needed the silence; yet instinctively knew when she needed his much welcomed company. The baby allowed them to drop their usual roles as Vampire/Slayer, and that found them surprisingly compatible; something Buffy never would have imagined.
Spike had relocated them to the safe haven of Costa Rica; a highly populated locale with an assortment of friendly demons, a country that she rapidly fell in love with.
Buffy had even trusted Spike enough to allow him to place a claiming bite on her, caving to his insistence that it was necessary for both their cover and for her protection. Once she'd consented, it had been done in the most chaste way possible, but it brought with it a profound realization.
They were making a family.
And for the first time, she began to look forward to the arrival of their child, something she had not dared to allow herself before.
Putting down roots, even temporary ones, was nerve-wracking, but Spike had assured her they would be safe. And Buffy had come to trust him explicitly. As time wore on, her guard lowered. Spike had used some of his demon connections to assure their anonymity, and here in this paradise, she wasn't the Slayer. She was the pregnant human mate of 'El Diablo', as was Spike's earned title. If anybody suspected anything about the demonic origins of the child she carried, not a word was said.
Or if it was said, the perpetrator didn't live long afterwards.
The fierce reputation that Spike had cultivated for himself over the last one hundred years went a long way towards keeping loose lips from wagging, and Buffy had long since learned to appreciate the fear he inspired in others.
Now in her last month of pregnancy, she could no longer defy the lethargic pull the baby put on her body; she was awkward and suffering through every late-stage pregnancy woe known to women. Spike soon learned the true meaning of 'Bitchy Buffy' and had wisely removed anything resembling a stake from the cozy home they shared.
Buffy had adapted to Spike's nocturnal ways- more or less; sleeping during the day so she could be with Spike during the cover of night. Seeking the comfort the other gave, they shared a bed, yet had not moved their relationship further.
It hadn't taken Buffy long to figure out Spike's reluctance in that regard, his body giving away his desire to do more than just hold her at night and keep the nightmares away.
He was afraid of her rejection.
It was her sense of a woman's vanity that kept her from acting on her need; Buffy didn't want her first time to be while she looked and felt as huge as a buffalo. Without practically any effort, Spike had managed to slide into her heart and wrap himself tightly around it, squeezing more each day. Buffy was afraid of doing anything that might jeopardize that fragile thread that had developed.
So she did nothing. For now.
tbc
|
