Disclaimer:  I don’t own or profit from BtVS.  It is owned by Joss Whedon and affiliates.  No copyright infringement is intended.

Dawn of a New Age

Chapter Two

“So you are pregnant?”  Giles couldn’t hide his dismay.  They’d all gathered at his home after the spell broke to reassure him everything was well.  Not that they needed to.  He knew the spell was broken as soon as his blurry gaze focused on the nearly empty scotch bottle.  Knowing the children would be arriving shortly, he quickly set about sobering himself up with a pot of very strong coffee.  However, there wasn’t enough coffee in the world to make him feel as if he was sober enough to have heard aright.

“What’s going on?  What’d I miss?”  Willow listened as Buffy explained to the group that her pregnancy wasn’t apart of the spell, unlike her faux engagement with Spike.  The whole scenario sounded ludicrous to her.  She was going to need to bake a whole lot of cookies to make up for this horrendous mess.  She glanced longingly at Giles’ kitchen.

“Buffy’s pregnant.”  Anya filled her in while munching on some buttery popcorn she had the foresight to pop before Buffy and Spike straggled in.  Over eleven hundred years of experience told her the shit was going to hit the fan, and she wanted a front row seat.

“What!?”  Willow gasped.  “I didn’t do it!”  She instantly defended, while trying to remember if she had even thought such a thing, much less said it out loud.

“No.  Haven’t you been listening?”  Anya nudged her before pointing to Spike.  “It’s Spike’s fangy prodigy.”

“That’s just not possible.”  Willow asserted, confident they were pulling her leg.  That was until she caught sight of Xander’s stricken expression and Giles’ ‘Defcon One Apocalypse Now’ look.  “Is it?”

No one answered her.  Buffy was slumped in the garbage dump destined recliner while Giles stood nearby, the wire arm of his eyeglasses nearly snapping between his fingers.  Spike was situated near the door, his darkened gaze never leaving the crown of Buffy’s bowed head.  Willow was starting to feel more than guilt rolling around in her too tight stomach.  Nervousness and outright anxious fear were playing a little rough and tumble in there as well.  Xander shot off the couch to pace with nervous energy behind Willow and Anya, ratcheting up her anxiousness even more.

“When did this happen?”  Again, no one answered her, so she fixed her wide-eyed gaze on Buffy.  “I mean, how far along are you?” 

Buffy shrugged.  “Dunno.  I’m just a little late,” she mumbled into her jacket.  She was becoming smaller by the minute as she curled further into herself.

Willow quickly did the math.  Being roommates she was pretty familiar with her friend’s cycle.  You had to be when bunking with a temperamental slayer.  “So like, four weeks about?”  Buffy nodded halfheartedly.  “So it could be Parkers?”  Willow perked up.  Human baby was of the good.  Vampire baby; not so much.

“Who’s Parker?”  Giles straightened.  His hawkish eyes pinned his slayer to the spot, and she shrunk a bit more.

He’s a poncy git, that’s who,” Spike growled.

Buffy sneered at Spike, her body uncurling from the chair.  “Yah, it could be Parker’s.  We used protection, but it could have broke.  He’s the kinda guy who wouldn’t tell me if it did.”

“Jus’ the kind of bloke you’d want to be the father of your child.”  Spike stepped out of the shadows, his hands knotted into white-knuckled fists.

“Better than you!”  Buffy shot off the chair, forcing Giles to back away as the two squared off.

“You know she’s mine.  Not some wanker’s who can’t use a wellie properly.  You think he’s gonna give two shites about you and the sprog?”

“I don’t need someone to take care of me.  I’m the goddamn slayer.”  The room winced at her language.

“You’re more than the slayer, you goin’ta be a mum.”

“I don’t need you to tell me what I am or am not!”

“Someone has to!  You’re actin’ like a poxy bint.”

“You’re just pissed because there’s no way she’s yours.  She has to be Parkers’.”

“I planted that babe in your belly when I was wearin’ the ring of Amara and you know it, slayer.”

“I don’t know anything.  I sure as hell don’t remember any planting.”

“Wait!”  Xander advanced on Spike with a wide-eyed look of murderous vengeance.  “Did you rape her?”  Xander snarled, poking Spike in the chest.

His question unsettled Spike so greatly, he actually back up a step.  “You’re off your rocker!”

“Well, Buffy sure as hell wouldn’t sleep with you of her own free will.”  Xander let the insinuation hang in the room.  Willow squeaked, her hands covering her mouth in horror.  Even Anya stopped her popcorn munching to shoot a vengeful glare at Spike.  Rape victims had been her all to frequent customers.  Most of their requests she did for free.

“Is this true, Buffy?” Giles asked, caught somewhere between Ripperesque outrage and fatherly concern.

Everyone turned to her, including Spike.  The room temperature dropped, making it as cold as a morgue.   All it would take was one tiny nod from her and he would be so much dust on the ol’ man’s knick knackery.  He watched as the same conclusion ran through her mind.  He drew himself up, determined to meet his maker like a man.

“No.”  She finally spoke, and Spike expelled a pent up breath.  “It’s not true.  Spike didn’t rape me.  The baby isn’t Parker’s either.”

“If he didn’t rape you, and it isn’t Parker’s, then how?”  Willow asked in a small, fearful voice.

Buffy sank back into the chair, her fire extinguished.  “I don’t know.  I just know what Spike says is true.  He found the ring, we fought, then it’s sorta blank after that, but I know that’s when I got pregnant.”  Buffy’s voice was small and sad.  It sounded nothing like her.  It was driving Spike crazy.

“So he did rape you.”  Xander whirled on Spike so fast that the vampire barely had time to deflect his fist.  Spike slid away, pursued by the rabid younger man.  Suddenly, Xander was jerked away and tossed back onto the couch.  Anya had to launch herself onto Willow’s lap to avoid being squished.

“No!”  Buffy shouted, and all three people on the couch stiffened.  She stood protectively in front of Spike, her fists shaking at her sides.  “Spike did not rape me.  I’m certain of it.  I just don’t remember…”  She turned to Spike, her aspect pleading.  “Do you?”

He couldn’t stop himself from tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear.  A residual effect of the spell he told himself.  “No, luv.  I don’t.  It’s like you said.”  He took a step closer.  “I would never…I’d never do that to you, Buffy.  Even at my worst.”  He held her gaze for a long moment, before she nodded. 

“I know, Spike.  I’ve always known that about you.”   She moved away from him, and the intimacy he created.

Giles observed them with something akin to indigestion.  “So if not…that.”  He couldn’t say the word.  Couldn’t comprehend it.  Not his slayer.  Not Buffy.  “Then perhaps it’s a side effect of the Ring of Amara we aren’t familiar with.  Some way to create a prodigy without killing the host?  I will need to do some research.  Maybe during the fight…close contact…” He wandered to his bookcase, grasping at straws to explain Buffy’s condition. 

Willow, Xander and Anya ignored him.  Their gazes, riveted on Buffy ranged from sad to disappointment to pity.  She couldn’t stand it a moment longer.  In a flurry of activity Buffy picked up her stakes and concealed them on her person.

“Where’re you goin’?”  Spike’s expression was dark.  He wasn’t a stupid vampire.  He knew exactly what she was up too.

“I need to slay something.  I’m gonna patrol then head home.”

“No.”  Everyone’s head, including Giles’ who was nose deep in a book, swung towards Spike.  The one word was low, guttural and deadly.  Buffy immediately fell back into a defensive stance, her stake raised.

“You aren’t the boss of me, Spike.  I go where I want and do as I please.”

“’m not disputin’ that, Slayer, but you have the nibblet to think of.  It’s like we was sayin’ earlier.  One wrong kick.”

Buffy didn’t need a reminder of how happy they’d been just a few short hours ago.  How concerned they both had been about the welfare of their child.  Angry, scared, tired, she lashed out at the one person who was the root of it all.  “Good.  Cheaper than abortion.”

Willow gasped and even Anya looked stricken.  Xander’s face lit up, while Giles’ expression remained studiously neutral.  Spike reacted with darkened fury.

“Slayer,” he hissed.  Everyone in the room subtly glanced around for wooden weapons.  Giles slowly lowered the book he was holding and eyed his crossbow.  Spike visibly reined in his anger.  He tilted his head back until he could see the ceiling, the tendons in his neck bulging beneath pale skin.  He rolled his head, loosening the muscles in his shoulders and relaxed his fists.  Dipping his chin, he made sure he had Buffy’s complete attention before speaking.  “She’s our miracle,” he reminded her in a quiet voice, reminiscent of the awe they’d both shared earlier, their reverence in contemplating their future together as a family.  Her, him, and their precious miracle.  Buffy felt a sudden and fiercely protective surge wash over her, but she stubbornly fought it down.  The thing inside her wasn’t a miracle.  It was an abomination.

“It’s not like I’m psyched to give birth to some freaky vampire human hybrid, Spike.  It’s a monster.  Just like you.”

Buffy didn’t wait to see the despair etched on Willow’s face, the disappointed disgust on Anya’s or the victorious smirk on Xander’s.  All she saw was the sick hurt on Spike’s as she pushed her way to the door.  As she passed over the threshold, she glanced back, looking over everyone to her watcher, the man who’d been her guide between good and evil for so many years.  His face was blank as he watched her go, and she felt something crack inside her, before she slammed the door shut.

Rage filled every crook and crevice in her mind.  It burned her through her chest, and threatened to leak out of her eyes in acidy rivulets.  She stomped through the graveyard, barely noting her surroundings.  The fledgling she steamrolled into was already fanged out and sniffing the air for blood.  She recoiled in disgust.  It was easy to forget with Spike about the monster simmering beneath his human mask.  Fledglings were more honest in their appearance, their ridges grotesque, their fangs glistening with saliva.  There was nothing about them to confuse her.  She knew exactly what she was dealing with.  A demon, a monster, something that needed to be put down like a rabid dog. 

Tears scorched her eyes, and the fledgling became a dark shadow.  It struck her on the side of the head, and her feet became tangled beneath her.  She fell over, her ribs cracking against the sharply angled edge of a granite grave marker.  She hit the ground with a thud, desperately trying to catch her breath.  The fledgling dove for her, landing on her upturned stake.  She was still choking on dust when she rolled onto her side, curling protectively around her belly.  Her muscles stiff, her heart barely beating, she waited for a sign her body was going to expel her baby.  When there was no pain, she pulled herself upright to lean against the grave marker, tears coursing down in her cheeks.

“Buffy?  Are you injured?”  Giles unexpected appearance only made Buffy cry harder.  So hard he was afraid she would make herself sick.  She wrapped her arms tightly around her shins and buried her face into her knees as if she could hold herself together despite the wracking shudders assailing her slight frame.  Seeing she had no physical injury, Giles grimaced and patted her consolingly on the shoulder, but his charge’s misery didn’t abate.  He disliked the aura of impropriety attached to any physical contact he had with his charge, but she was more than his slayer.  She was Buffy.  He settled himself beside her, feeling the chill of the tombstone behind him, and the heat of her body pressed against his side.  He awkwardly settled his arm around her shoulders in a fatherly manner, stifling a grunt of surprise when she huddled closer, burying her wet face in the labels of his tweed jacket.  Her entire body shook as she sobbed, and for once Giles forgot his duty.  He became a father consoling his teenage daughter.

“I’m so scared, Giles.”  Her sobs lessened, but she remained huddled into his side.  Evening mist was forming in low eddies around the tombs, shimmery and pearlescent in the moonlight.  The cold seeped into Giles’ bones, and he had to fight the urge to shift his seat to relieve the ache.  He pulled Buffy closer in a one armed hug, resting his chin on the crown of her head.  She was so small and childlike, it was easy to forget she was a powerful woman.

“This situation would be frightening under normal circumstances.  Your feelings are perfectly understandable.”

“But these aren’t normal circumstances are they?  I’m not just some stupid kid who made a bad choice and got knocked up.  I have a monster inside me.”

“We don’t know that for certain.”

“Don’t we?  It’s a vampire baby.  What if it tries to eat me from the inside out?  Starts making dinner plans for my liver?  It could burst out of my chest like that alien move!”

“Uh, well.”  Giles was horrified.

Buffy wound herself up, her fists clenching and releasing the stiff fabric of his jacket.  “Or what if I have this baby, and it’s totally normal?  You know.  Cute and adorable with blue eyes and gold curls.  And I love her.  Love her with all my heart.  Then one day she starts running around killing people like that Omen kid.  What if I have to stake my own baby?”

Buffy was sobbing again, her voice escalating to be heard over her own ragged breathing.  Clearly, Buffy watched too much late night television after her patrols.  It gave her more nightmares than the reality of her life.  He should speak to Joyce about it.  “Those aren’t even the worst case scenarios!” 

“They’re not?” Giles asked, befuddled.  They sounded pretty worst case to him.

“What if she’s perfectly normal?” Buffy asked in a rough voice.  Her sobs dried up again, leaving her feeling wrung out and exhausted deep in her soul.

Giles didn’t know what to say.  “She?”  It hadn’t gone unnoticed that other than their small spat while under the spell both her and Spike almost exclusively referred to the child as female.  It gave credence to his thoughts that this was a magically induced pregnancy.  He would need to check for prophecies.  Something this momentous would have to be recorded somewhere.

Buffy shrugged, picking at the frayed hem of her jeans.  She was never going to be able to afford new clothes with a baby.  She could barely replace her wardrobe as it was.  She’d have to resign herself to being fashion challenged.

Giles cleared his throat as the silence became deafening.  “Well, I would think that normal would be a good thing.”

“Shyeah.”

Giles angled himself to the side to see her face, but she turned away.  “It’s not a good thing?”

Buffy picked at the thread on her jeans as the silence length.  Finally, she shifted so she could look up at her watcher.  Her pale brow was furrowed, her eyes red and watery.

“What if I can’t protect her from my enemies?  I’m the slayer.  Lot’s of things want me dead, and what if they go through her to get to me?  What if something takes my baby and I can’t save her?”

Giles felt his heart clench.  His arm tightened around her shoulders and she relaxed into him, resting her head over his heart.  Her fear was indescribable.  He felt something very close to it every time Buffy walked out his door to face some new threat.  

“What if---?”  Giles felt his heart come to a stop as he waited for her to finish.  “What if I die?” she asked in a small voice.  “I’ll have this baby.  A little person whom I’d be responsible for, but I’m still the slayer, yeah?  Expiration date and all that.  What if I die, and leave her all alone, and something terrible happens that I can’t protect her from?  She’d hate me.”

Giles placed his big hand over her skull, his blunt fingers resting on her softly tangled curls.  He felt so much bigger and stronger than her, like a parent to a small child, but at the same time he had never felt such overwhelming helplessness.  Her fears, so meticulously lined out, told him what he had always known.  Buffy was a bright, thoughtful girl, who didn’t deserve any of the awful things that happened to her, but she was also a girl who had the instinct to protect written in her DNA.

“She wouldn’t hate you, Buffy.  She would love and miss you.  Besides these ‘what if’s’ may never come to pass.  You mustn’t dwell on them.”

“May never doesn’t mean will never, Giles.  Besides all these problems are solvable, right?”

“They are?”

“I’ll just make an appointment at the clinic.”  Buffy struggled for nonchalance, but her voice was pitched too high.

“You wish to terminate the pregnancy?” Giles asked neutrally.

“Do you think I should?”  Buffy held herself very still against him.  Giles was equally stiff.  He really didn’t know what to think.  On the one hand the child could be prophesized.  Something that was meant to be.  On the other hand, both Spike and Buffy were inexplicably convinced the child was his, and nothing but evil could ever come from Spike.  Prophesy’s themselves hardly ever foresaw the fluffier side of things either.  Chances were the child was going to be evil, even if it was being born by someone as pure as Buffy.  Evil quite often gestated in innocents.

“I think it’s not my decision to make.  I’m your watcher, Buffy, and it’s my duty to keep you safe, but there are some things that I can’t give you direction on.”  He trailed off as if he wanted to say more, but thought better of it.  Buffy heard it in the soft roll of his voice.

“But?”

He hesitated, looking out into the rows of pale tombstones.  An owl hooted it’s intent to hunt in the distance.  Predators were out, and this was their hunting ground.  The one place where his charge was comfortable enough to make life altering decisions.

“Evil comes in many different forms.  Whatever you decide, you must be careful.”

Buffy’s only response was to withdrawal from him subtly.  It wasn’t a conscious move on her part, but he felt it in his heart.  He wanted to be supportive, and he would have if the father had been human.  But Spike wasn’t human.  And no matter his protestations to the contrary, he was nothing but a threat to Buffy and her child.  If Buffy had the child, it would mean being tied to Spike for the rest of her life.  That was something he didn’t want for her.  He unwound his arm from her shoulders as he prepared to stand.

“What about, Spike?”  Her soft question halted him.

“What about him?” Giles asked quizzically.

“It’s his baby.  Shouldn’t I take his feelings into account?”

He put his warm hand over her cold one, before speaking.  “I’m still not entirely convinced Spike is the father.  Besides, he is a vampire.  He isn’t capable of real emotional depth.”

“He’s the father,” she vowed with conviction.  “And he seemed pretty emotional to me.  He really wants this baby.”

“It’s just another trophy for him.  A way to set himself apart from other vampires and increase his reputation.  He doesn’t truly care about you or your baby.”

“He calls her a miracle.  Our miracle.”  Her voice was tiny, nearly insubstantial.

Feeling inadequate, he stiffly struggled to his feet.  These weren’t subjects he was versed in.  Books were his forte.  Emotions were messy and there were no guidelines on how to handle them.  He steadied himself on the grave marker, before reaching out his hand.

“Let me walk you back to your dorm room.”

Buffy lifted her head, her eyes luminous in the moonlight.  Scrunched up on the ground, he could see the child she must have been, and he felt a momentary tinge of sorrow he hadn’t been there for her when she was younger.  She must have been a precocious little spitfire.  Still is, he thought.  She took his proffered hand, dusting off her jeans as she stood.

“No.  Take me home, please.  I need my mom.”

He nodded, tucking her tiny hand in the crease of his elbow as they walked out of the graveyard.