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

Some spoilers for Hush.  Olivia won’t appear.  I never fully understood her role other than Giles having a cuddle buddy during an admittedly scary time.  Besides it always kinda weirded me out that Giles had an international booty call.

A/N:  What?  You thought it was going to be all puppies and rainbows here on out?  We are talking about Spike and Buffy.  They couldn’t agree on the sky being blue if their lives depended on it.  Seriously, they have a pathological need to argue.  Kinda exhausting, if you ask me.

Dawn of a New Age

Chapter Seven

Spike tasted every inch of her body, from the soles of her feet to her smooth armpits.  She never felt so thoroughly debauched in her life.  She sprawled across his bed, his coverlet long gone, black satin sheets spilling onto the floor in a cascade of oily shadows.  Sometime before ten she managed to call her mom to tell her she was with Spike, and discreetly forgot to mention when she would be home.  Her mother was strangely agreeable, and Buffy chalked it up to maternal acquiescence.  After all, how much more knocked up could she get?  It was well past midnight now, and she didn’t think there were any bones left in her body to get out of bed to pee, much less make her way home.  That was until her belly rumbled.  Loudly.

Spike lifted his head off the pillow.  “What the bleedin’ ‘ell was that?”

Buffy curled around her belly, hiding it from him.  “m hungry,” she mumbled.  He looked at her speculatively, before glancing towards his kitchen.  He had a sprawling loft apartment, with no interior walls except for the bathroom.  From where they lay, they could see across the large open space to where his kitchen was situated.  The area was dark with only a lit lamp by the door, and more light spilling from the bathroom where she had left it on a couple hours ago.  She could see hints of dark masculine wood and black leather from the seating area close to a bank of windows overlooking the river.  She wondered at the windows, but she supposed Spike was a big boy and could take care of himself.  If he wanted to live on the wild side with a wall entirely made of glass that was his business.  She would mourn him when vacuuming up his ashes.

The thought gave her pause.  Would she mourn him?  She snuck a peek at him while he frowned at his state of the art kitchen.  Until now they hadn’t anything in common other than their pending child and the forbidden topics they both skirted around.  On the plus side, Buffy found a way to satisfactorily work out her frustrations.   After the marathon bout of enhanced stamina sex they just shared, she was convinced even the Oakland Raiders would have been found lacking.  She was completely satiated in a way she had never felt in her entire life. 

However, sex did not a relationship make.  And that was all it was.  Sex.  Once this weird horniness phase of her pregnancy was over, so would the sex.  After all, he was a vampire.  An evil, soulless one at that.  He was only held in check by the chip in his brain.  Only scant weeks earlier he was trying to rip off her head while laughing merrily in the sunshine.  She must never forget he was a killer.  She shouldn’t even be here with him.  Disappointment loomed inside her at the thought, but she didn’t have time to analyze it before Spike turned back to her. 

“I think I have some Weetabix.”

“Wheat-a-what?”

“Yah, I don’t think you’d like it.  I can run down to the all night market.  Get you some chips or sumthin’.”

Buffy frowned.  Chips were of the no.  She wanted something more substantial.  Something meaty.  She licked her lips.  Spike’s brow rose and interest heated in his dark eyes.  Buffy wavered with answering interest.  Nope, that wasn’t of the good either.  She rolled backwards off the bed, proud when she didn’t stagger.  Much.

“I think I should go home.  I can make myself a BLT or something.”

She missed the flash of disappointment on Spike’s face as she tottered towards the door to retrieve her clothes strewn in front of it.

“I can make you a BLT.”

Buffy frowned at her underwear.  They were a sodden mess.  Gross.  She shook out her sweat pants and stepped into them commando style.  “I don’t think they are going to have bacon, lettuce and tomato at the Quickie Mart.”  She pulled her pants over her hips with a little shimmy.

“I’m sure we can find an all night diner somewhere.”  Spike had no idea why he was so desperate to hold onto her.  There was no way he was going to be able to have sex again tonight.  Yah, he was a vampire, but he wasn’t a bleedin’ machine.  So what would be the point of her staying?  It wasn’t like they had anything to talk about.  He should be finding his keys to take her home, instead of trying to coax her into staying.

“Nah,” she rejected, shrugging on her bra.  She pulled her head through her hoodie, when she suddenly turned to him wide-eyed.  “You think they’d have pancakes?”

Spike nodded, bemused at the sudden change in her demeanor.  She gripped her belly, her countenance almost thoughtful, before she rounded on him with a smile.

“Oh, yeah.  We want pancakes.  The fluffy kind.  With whip cream.”  She practically pranced over to her shoes.  Spike didn’t know whether to shake his head in exasperation at her mood swings or thank his lucky stars.  At least now he was going to be able to spend some time with her. 

All her thoughts of food made her think about what Spike was eating.  She abruptly detoured from her shoes and headed towards the fridge.  She opened it up, uncertain what she would do if she found it empty.  Instead, she found plastic containers of pig’s blood.  She looked over the refrigerator door to where Spike stood in the shadows, but the interior light blinded her.  She couldn’t see his expression, and she wondered what he saw on hers.  Relief?  Indecisiveness?  Hope?

“We aren’t, like, dating, you know?”  She frowned, narrowing her eyes against the bright light of the fridge.  “Just a couple of weeks ago, we hated each other.”

“Yeah.”  His soft agreement was disembodied in the darkness.

She closed the refrigerator door with a hard rattle.  “This is just sex.”  She quashed any hint of hope that may have reared its ugly, treacherous head as she stalked back over to her shoes.  Her eyes hadn’t adjusted to the darkness yet, but she knew he was watching her.  She couldn’t help but wonder at his silence.

They found an all night diner catering to truckers on the way out of town.  The yellow linoleum table was cracked, and Buffy worried the edge with her thumbnail.  Spike sat across from her, his arm thrown over the back of the bench seat, unobtrusively glaring at a shaggy trucker who had given Buffy a once over when they entered.

“I can’t decide between pancakes or one of those fried skillet things with bacon and sausage.”

“Thought you wanted pancakes?”

“I did, but now I want both.  And maybe steak and eggs---without the eggs.”  Buffy frowned at the menu, her thumb still worrying the crack.

“Order it all.”  Spike shrugged and looked out into the black night beyond the red pool of light from the neon EAT sign.

“I can’t eat all that!”  Buffy glared at him, affronted.

“Don’t.  Jus’ take nibbles from what you want.”

Buffy very carefully closed her laminated menu and folded her hands on top.  Spike felt the tension ratchet up a notch and he had to suppress the urge to sigh as he braced himself for superbitch emergence.

“Where does all your money come from, Spike?”

“What?”  That wasn’t what he was expecting at all, but in hindsight, maybe he should of.  He could only flaunt his flushed status so much, before being called on it.  Ordering excessive platefuls of food from a cheap diner may not seem extravagant to him, but to a moneywise woman like Buffy, who had spent an entire summer trying to feed herself off meager waitressing tips, it was.

“The car, the books, the apartment.”  Bloody hell.  It was the flat that has her soddin’ knickers in a bunch.  He should have just taken her to the nearest crypt and shagged her silly, instead of being a gent and taking her back to his flat.  She was so hot and heavy she wouldn’t have cared if it were a dirt floor or king-sized bed with satin sheets.  Still got hers, and then some, he thought vindictively.

“Got a job,” he said flatly.  Her eyes sparked jade and he felt a tremor in his cock.  Christ!  He would have thought for sure he wouldn’t get a rise out of it for at least two days.  Bleedin’ sexy bint.  He needed to have his head checked.

“Doing what?” she snapped.

“Stuff,” he snapped back.

“Ready to order?” the middle-aged waitress asked.  She smelled of White Shoulders and grease.  Spike could barely control his snarl.

“No.”

“Yes.”

The waitress looked between Buffy’s resolute negative and Spike’s frustrated affirmative.  Shaking her head, she just walked away.  “Let me know when you’re ready,” she called over her shoulder.

“What kind of job, Spike?”

Spike huffed and threw himself back into his seat.  Stupid woman couldn’t mind her own business.  “I help some business owners.”

“Doing what, exactly?”  Spike shrugged and refused to meet her gaze.  “Spike,” she drawled warningly.

“I make sure their places don’ ge’ busted up.  Tha’ alroit with you, miss priss?”  His East End accent was getting heavier, a sure sign he was trying to hide something from her.  She narrowed her eyes, before they widened in understanding.

“Are you running a protection racket?”

“So wot if I am?”

“Spike, you can’t go around robbing people.”

“I ain’t robbin’ nobody,” he exploded in a snarl.  “I charge a small fee to make sure they aren’ rousted by the local evils.”  There was no way he was going to bring up the smuggling ring he strong-armed from Willy.  The berk wasn’t running it right anyways.  Besides Willy was making twice as much now for doing half the work just taking orders.  Spike’s European connections allowed him to bring in high demand commodities to the demon community.  Nothing evil, mind you.  Just standard demon fare.

“That’s what the police are for.”  Her little hands were squeezed into fists on the table.  She realized her voice was pitched a little too high and she quickly pulled her hands into her lap with a quick look around.  The diner was mostly deserted, and the waitress was steadfastly ignoring them, having already ascertained they were going to have a row when she first asked their order.

“They can’t call the bobbies you, dumb cow.  They’re demons.”

Buffy frowned at him.   She was going to let the dumb cow comment pass.  For now.   “Demons own businesses?”

Spike rolled his eyes.  “Yah, or they’re humans who cater to demons.  Who do you think helps out Willy if he has a problem?  Not the SPD, that’s for damn sure.”

She watched him with coolly assessing eyes.  He could tell she had questions.  Even though she was the Slayer, she had very little connection to the demon community that flourished around her.  It was logical they would find solutions to their problems internally rather than relying on human agencies that weren’t equipped to handle demonic contingencies.  She leaned back in her seat.

“You aren’t robbing anyone?”

He imitated her body language.  “No.  I run it fair.  Ask anyone.”

Buffy made a note to question Willy when she saw him later.  He was the only business owner she knew of who dealt with demons.  Maybe she could get some information out of him about other business owners so she could question them as well.

“Anything else?”

Spike felt a twinge in his middle.  If he wasn’t going to tell her about his smuggling ring, then he sure as hell wasn’t going to tell her about the run down demon strip club he just bought with plans to renovate into a first class cabaret.  He intended on running it right with no off the book hook ups or hanky panky on the site, but he knew the self-righteous bitch would read it wrong.  The last thing he wanted was for her to call him a pimp, and tell him he wasn’t good enough to see his kid.

“That’s it,” he confirmed straight-faced.

The silence lengthened between them.  Fuck.  How he made his money was just added to the list of forbidden topics they didn’t discuss along with their past love lives and their dichotomous murdering tendencies.  If all they had in common was sex and their baby this relationship was never going to work.  Spike had to ask himself for the thousandth time why he even wanted it to.

Finally Buffy came to a verdict, one that clearly wasn’t in his favor.  “Take me home.”  Without another glance, she slid out of the booth and walked out of the diner.

*******

All the houses in the neighborhood were dark when he pulled up to the curb.  He barely had the car in park before she was wrenching open the passenger door.  It was only her mother’s ingrained politeness that had her tossing a goodbye over her shoulder as she got out.  Except nothing came out.  Hovering halfway in and out of the car, she tried again.  Nothing.  She slumped down in the seat, throwing a panicked glance at Spike who was looking at her like she had hit a whole new level of crazy.  She opened her mouth, motioning with her hand that nothing was coming out.  She scoured her memory for any mention in her books of spontaneous laryngitis being a rare symptom of pregnancy, but she came up blank.

Spike frowned at her, and cocked an eye.  What the daft cow wanted now he had no idea.  He just wanted her out of his car.  It would still be dark for a few hours, more than enough time to find some booze and drink the memory of this night away.  The last part anyways.  The first part had been pretty damn good.  He sat there watching her flail with her mouth gaping open and he thought about how good it felt to have his cock in it.  He rolled his eyes, and mentally slapped himself upside the head.  Buffy thought he was rolling his eyes at her, and slapped him upside the head for real.

Ow!  He snarled, only to realize it didn’t come out of his mouth.  She made throttling motions with her hands and looked at him like he was a moron.  He opened his mouth to tell her exactly what he thought of her and her goddamn mood swings, but nothing came out.  She settled back in the seat, her arms crossed for all of two seconds before one hand flew up in the universal ‘duh’ signal.  He clicked his tongue with disgust and glared out the darkened windshield.  They sat for a few minutes their minds filled with thoughts of how much they couldn’t stand each other, and why did shit like this always happen to them.  Oh right.  Slayer.  Vampire.  The Powers That Be hated them.  Check.

Spike flung his hand over the steering wheel, indicating the darkness in a vague wave.  To Buffy his actions weren’t vague at all.  He wanted to know if he should drive her to Giles’ house.  She nodded, but held up her finger for him to wait for her.  She got out of the car, and went around the house to let herself in the back door.  She grabbed the notepad off the counter and wrote a quick note reassuring her mother, and telling her to stay home from work.  She pinned it to the fridge with a Disneyland magnet, and ran upstairs to change into slayer friendly clothes, complete with fresh underwear.  She didn’t have time to shower, so she had to settle with wiping away the night’s secretions with a wet rag.  She was pulling her hair up into a ponytail as she trotted down the stairs.  On her way out of the house she grabbed two bananas and the notepad.

She slid into the car next to Spike, flinching at the sound of the car door slamming.  The atmosphere was quieter than normal.  Sound was muffled, almost like someone was pressing a huge pillow over the world.  It made unexpected noises startling.  Buffy bit the side of her thumbnail as they drove in silence to Giles’ house.  She’d kept a low profile since the disastrous Will Be Done spell, and this would be her first time seeing her Watcher or any of her friends other than Willow.  She wondered how they would feel about Spike being there.  She glanced over at him.  His usually full lips were thin, and there were deep shadows under his sharp cheekbones. 

He made his feelings clear about her slaying while pregnant.  He didn’t want the baby to get hurt.  By extension that meant he didn’t want her being hurt.  She wondered if he cared about her in any way separate from the baby or if all his concern was centered on the life she carried inside her.  Spike’s attitude made her feel like Pandora.  How had the ancient Greeks put it?  Women were only the jar where the hope of new generations resided, but otherwise they were put on this world with the sole reason of making men miserable, endowed with the soul of a bitch.  She was sure Spike would concur with the whole soul of a bitch thing when it came to her.  They certainly loved to hate each other.  It seemed pretty conclusive that in Spike’s mind, she was just some jar holding the real treasure.  Useful for only as long as she wasn’t useful anymore.

They pulled up to Giles’ apartment, and Buffy didn’t bother to wait for Spike to open the door for her before she was out of the car.  He trailed behind her as she stalked up to the apartment.  Spike saw the slight hesitation in her body before she knocked.  He wondered at the state of the relationship between Watcher and Slayer.  Had Buffy told her watcher she was keeping the baby?  Did he react in fury?  Spike hoped he didn’t get staked once he was inside the flat. 

It took a great deal of pounding, before they heard the locks being disengaged.  Giles opened the door, looking more than a little rough.  His ratty dark blue robe looked as old as the man wearing it.  It was unbelted, revealing fairly new green and white striped pajamas.  His hair was sticking up at all angles, and he desperately needed a shave.  He took one look at Buffy and wiped his hand down his face, opening the door wider for them to enter.

Buffy waited for him to speak, knowing it was the best way to get the ball rolling.  She watched for a few comical moments as he tried to speak, before she indicated they were having the same problem.  Spike watched their interaction closely.  Buffy held herself stiffly until the situation came clear to the Watcher.  When it did, Spike saw something completely unexpected.  Giles wrapped his arms around Buffy in a fatherly embrace she instantly melted into.  He inhaled and he could scent the distinctive tang of her salty tears, but she kept them hidden with a quick swipe of her hand when she parted from her watcher.  It was then, that Spike understood she’d been worried about being rejected by her watcher.  She was after all, knocked up by demon spawn.  Spike was pretty sure that was executable offense as far as the Council of Wankers was concerned. 

He had a sudden appreciation for the other man, who without words was able to absolve his girl of her fears, but now Spike had his own concerns.  Once their voices returned he needed to take Rupert aside and find out his intentions.  Spike needed to be prepared if the Council came for them.  The wave of frustration he felt at the thought was palpable.  The Council was composed of humans.  The one creature in all the bleedin’ world he couldn’t defend against.  How was he supposed to protect his family while he remained chipped?  He was well and truly neutered.  A pathetic git of a man who couldn’t even protect his own.

Giles waved them to the bookshelves while he shuffled off to start some coffee.  Buffy and Spike pulled out books, and he went upstairs to make himself presentable as the coffee brewed.  When he came back down, he was quick to note that the two parents-to-be were sitting on opposite sides of the room, their backs to each other, reading books.

One by one the Scoobies filtered in throughout the morning.  Willow rushed in, hugging Giles and Buffy, and even shooting Spike a little wave that had him raising an eyebrow.  Willow and Buffy were barely settled next to each other on the couch when Xander and Anya burst in.  Xander was full of fumbling anxious energy that made the vampire grateful the whelp couldn’t speak.  Xander shot him a malevolent glare that Spike returned with two upraised fingers.

After the news broadcast announcing that Sunnydale was the victim of a citywide laryngitis outbreak the mood in the room was somber.  Xander was holding his bird to his chest while she wept silently.  Giles wandered aimlessly between the kitchen and the living room as if looking for some sort of magical tea that could fix everything, and Buffy and Willow sat huddled together on the couch.  Willow had taken on a comforting role that was almost surprising.  She had her arm wrapped around Buffy, who was curled up as if she was trying to protect her belly.  It was clear by her body language that Willow accepted their baby, and by association she had accepted Spike as well.  It warmed his undead, unbeating heart a little, but it didn’t disperse the jealousy he was feeling.  He wanted to be the one on the couch comforting Buffy.  But he wasn’t being acknowledged again.  She kept her back to him so he couldn’t even see her face.  It made him wonder if their little girl was going to be as stubborn as her mother.  He could picture a little girl with blonde pigtails and big blue eyes tapping her toe impatiently while waiting her turn at the jump rope.  A thought suddenly struck him.

He motioned to the Slayer, but she steadfastly ignored him.  He stomped his foot, but she just huddled further into Willow who gave him chastising little glare.  He rolled his eyes.  Soddin’ dozy women.  He tore off a piece of paper from his note pad, wadding it up, and hurling it at Buffy’s head.  She jerked up, her green eyes narrowed and glittering with fire.  He smirked, shifting in his chair to hide his quickening hard on.  He scrawled something on his pad and showed it too her.

DREAM?

She frowned at him.  He huffed and wrote something else.

THE ONE WITH THE LITTLE GIRL AND THE RHYME

Buffy’s eyes widened and she nodded before shooting off the couch to confer with her watcher.  He watched her go, her blonde ponytail bouncing behind her.  His eyes shifted back to the couch where Willow was staring at him in a darkly speculative manner that made him distinctly uncomfortable.  He mouthed a wide ‘what’ at her, and she just shrugged, dropping her gaze back to an open book in her lap.

Buffy’s description of her dream narrowed the search somewhat.  The Scoobies were trying to find references to anything related to the Gentlemen or spontaneous laryngitis.  Spike flipped through the pages of a large tomb halfheartedly, his attention mostly focused on Buffy.  Every once in a while she would drift into the kitchen and sweep through the cupboards only to come back empty handed and distinctly sullen.  He supposed she was hungry, but there was more than enough donuts and chips to go around.  There was plenty for her to eat.  He frowned, remembering her cravings from earlier.  Pancakes, skillet fried potatoes with sausage, and steak.  She was craving substantial carbs and protein, not empty calories provided by too sweet pastries.

He hauled himself off the couch and followed Buffy into the kitchen as she ransacked it for the fifth time that morning.  While her head was buried in the pantry beside the fridge, he dug around in the freezer.  He found a single T-bone steak still in the store packaging, underneath a bag of frozen French fries.  He pulled it out, showing it silently to Buffy whose eyes brightened from a dull hazel to mossy green.  Seeing her approval, he opened the microwave and carelessly flung the package inside, hitting the defrost button.

Giles wandered in while Spike was searing the steak in a cast iron skillet he found shoved back behind an unused crockpot in the cupboard.  The older man shook his fist, mouthing something unintelligible.  Spike merely raised his scarred brow, cocking his head at Buffy who was standing at his shoulder practically salivating.  Giles took one look at the pointed hunger on his charge’s face and promptly walked back out, deciding a good t-bone steak was worth the sacrifice in keeping her happy. 

Bouncing on her toes, Buffy flashed a plate at Spike before the steak was fully cooked, her pink tongue darting between shiny lips.  A tremor went through his thighs and shot straight to his cock.  He distracted himself by quickly turning off the burner and plating her steak.  She took it from him with the widest smile of thank you he’d ever seen from her.  Suddenly, it wasn’t only his cock affected by her, but his entire chest.  A warm, sappy feeling that had him rolling his eyes as he followed her out into the living area.

She knelt in front of the coffee table and proceeded to attack her food.  As she cut into the meat, dark juice spread across the plain, white plate.  Spike sat behind her on the couch, waiting to see if she would reject it.  Instead, she dropped her knife and fork and picked up the entire thing by the bone to gnaw on it with wet, juicy noises.  One by one the scoobs focused on her, various degrees of concern and tinges of disgust ghosting over their expressions.  Spike shook on his gameface, snarling at them in silent fury so potent, they collectively gasped.   He tamped down the demon as they shifted away, unaware they’d been leaning closer to watch Buffy like she was on display.  Their sudden movement had her looking up, artless confusion wrinkling her brow.  When everyone dropped their eyes, she glanced over her shoulder at Spike who smiled innocently at her and rubbed the dip between her shoulders.  She returned his smile, and went back to gnawing on her bone.

*******

Dusk curled around the edges of Sunnydale, accompanied by the sound of locks being thrown and blinds drawn.  Most of the town’s residents didn’t know what was out in the darkness, but they knew they were being hunted.  Families huddled together, children sleeping between their parents, lovers holding each other tight.  Xander and Anya waved goodbye as they headed back to his basement, and Willow returned to her dorm.  Buffy mouthed ‘mom’ to Spike and he nodded in agreement.  They drove in silence, noting the empty streets and boarded up windows on some houses.  He followed her inside, locking the door behind him as she bounded up the stairs.  He circled the bottom floor, checking windows and pulling down the blinds.  Not a sound could be heard upstairs, but he could smell the saltiness of tears and he imagined the Summers’ women huddled on the bed seeking mutual comfort.

The night lengthened, pooling deep, dark shadows along houses and beneath shrubbery.  Spike prowled the lower level of the house in a continuous circuit, sneaking peeks through the blinds and out the peephole on the front door.  Near midnight a cold chill settled in his bones, prickling the fine hairs on his neck.  He stopped at the front door, concentrating all his senses towards the street.  There was a muffled noise behind him, and he glanced up to see Buffy poised on the landing gripping a two-headed ax that glittered silver in the moonlight.  She was beautiful, like a Valkyrie ready for battle.  He scowled at her, and she scowled back just as fiercely.  The Slayer didn’t back down from a fight, and she sure as hell didn’t hide behind a man.  She wasn’t the damsel in distress, she was the goddamn knight in shining friggin’ armor.

Angry, frustrated, and knowing he couldn’t win, Spike swung open the front door.  Gliding up the walk was a tall, cadaverous figure that made Spike’s skin want to crawl right off his bones.  It’s hairless, dead flesh stretched tight over it’s skull, it’s teeth silver plated and gleaming in the moonlight.  It’s Victorian dress made Spike think about the bullies he had drained just after he was turned, how he had discarded the belly-white, bloodless bodies in piss-stink alleys behind their fancy, brick-faced homes.  He wondered if they looked similar to this creature when they were found.

Behind the creature were two hunched minions that undulated in a rhythmic motion that oddly reminded Spike of the waves crashing on the beach.  As frightening as they were in appearance, what really creeped Spike out was the complete lack of sound.  He kept waiting to hear the tinkle of buckles on the straightjacket worn by the minions or the sharp ting of shiny teeth as the tall creature smiled.  There was only silence.  It was muffled and cottony and made him wonder if he had gone deaf.

Spike shook on his game face and snarled.  He could feel it rip across his throat and vibrate through his jaw, but there was no expected rumbling growl.  Just empty silence.  The tall creature raised it’s hands in retreat, flashing silver teeth.  It slowly backed away, but before it could move on, the Slayer was streaking past Spike, her doubled edged ax flashing in a wide arch. 

Spike wanted to howl.  She just couldn’t let it go.  He knew her reasoning.  If they let the monster escape, then some innocent would die.  For Buffy that was paramount to murder.  But sod it, could she put herself and their child first for once? 

Smoothly, the creature glided to the side, dodging her blow.  Without contact she over extended and had to lunge off the walk and onto the lawn to regain her equilibrium.  As she steadied herself, a minion flew at her, knocking her to the ground.  Enraged, Spike leapt towards them, only to be waylaid in mid air by the second minion.  As they toppled to the ground in a heap the loose buckles of its jacket cut him across the mouth.

Engaged in his own battle, Spike had to trust in the Slayer’s formidable skills to keep her safe.  Regardless of the protective feelings he felt towards her and their unborn child, she wasn’t a woman to be coddled.  The minion he fought was small and quick, it’s tiny contorted body slipping out of Spike’s grasp every time he reached for it.  From the corner of his eye, he watched as the cadaverous creature glided down the street, far away from the house where Joyce still slept.  Satisfied the Slayer’s mother was safe, he concentrated his entire attention on the minion.  The straps and buckles of the straightjacket fluttered around silently, occasionally flashing silver in the moonlight.  Unable to get purchase on the creature itself, Spike lashed out and wound one of the straps around his fist.  Once anchored, it took only a few short moments before Spike was twisting the minion’s head off it’s neck.

As soon as the creature was dead he swung around looking for Buffy.  He watched as she took off the second minion’s head with one smooth lop of her ax.  Panting she dropped the head of the ax to the ground, her fist still wrapped around the handle as she searched the area for the third creature.  Seeing nothing, she met Spike’s eyes who indicated with a lift of his hand that the monster retreated down the street.  He tensed as her gaze followed the direction he pointed, hoping she wouldn’t decide to pursue the Gentleman.

A shadowed look came over her face as she gripped her belly.  They stood together in apprehensive silence, her staring into the darkness, him staring at her.  Finally, she turned to walk into the house, and Spike let out the breath he held.  He didn’t know what he would have done if she decided to follow after the monster.  She was still holding her belly, and Spike trailed behind her, worry tight in his chest.  He hadn’t been able to keep an eye on her during the fight, and he didn’t know if she’d been struck in the stomach or not.  He locked the door behind them, watching as Buffy leaned her ax against the wall, and slowly made her way up the stairs.  She reached the landing before the tension stretching tight inside him snapped.  He took the stairs two at a time, gripping her shoulder to pull her around to look at him.

He dipped his head to look her in the eyes, begging silently to know if she was alright.  She bit her lower lip, her brow furrowed.  The tiny motion she made with her shoulders should have been a nonchalant shrug, but Spike could read worry in the lines of her body.  His heart near bursting, he gently pushed her back to the wall so her shoulders were braced on the cool surface.  He dropped to his knees before her, reaching for the hem of her shirt.  She batted his hands away, annoyance shooting from her eyes.  Spike shook his head.  He knew she thought he was trying to have sex with her, but that was the furthest thing from his mind.  Her hands knotted into uncertain fists at her sides.  Slowly, he rolled up the hem of her blouse, indicating she should hold it up just below her breasts.  She watched him, her teeth rubbing across her lower lip.

She lifted her hand, but instead of holding her shirt, she cupped his cheek in her palm.  Spike stilled under her touch.  He was both calmed and excited.  The worry beating in his chest, the demon rattling the cages of his mind was soothed by her, but her gentle carress of her fingers made him think of their evening together. 

She swiped her thumb over his lower lip, and he forced himself not to flinch away as she traced his cut.  She wiped the blood from his chin, pushing the pad of her thumb into his mouth until the salty tang burst of it on his tongue.  His eyes drifted closed as he leaned into her palm, transported into a place of contentment he never experienced before.  He sucked her thumb clean, scraping his blunt teeth over the sensitive pad of her thumb.  He felt a tremor race up her arm, and arousal flooded the air.  He released her thumb, and with a soft kiss to the center of her palm he tilted his face up to hers.

The look they exchanged was heated, but it didn’t disperse the fear still lurking beneath their arousal.  Smiling reassuringly at her, he replaced his hand with hers to hold up her blouse.  He tilted his head until his ear lay against the smooth, taut flesh of her midriff.  He closed his eyes and honed all his vampiric senses on the ebb and flow of her body.  Her heartbeat was loud.  An insistent, steady staccato against her ribs.  Her blood rushed in silvery waves through her veins, luring him with a siren call.  Her belly rumbled with hunger, and he almost chuckled.  But beneath it all was another tiny, thready beat.  It was small and fast like a hummingbird’s.  He focused all of his energy on listening to the sound.

He brought his hand to rest against her belly, and with two fingers he drummed out the rhythm of the tiny beats on her skin so she could hear them along with him.  He was concentrating so hard, he didn’t feel her move until her fingers were threading through his hair, her hand holding him close to her belly.  Silently, they stood in the dark for what seemed to be hours, reveling in the strong, steady heartbeat of their baby.