The Protectors
By Heather Martin
Rated – R
Summary- The monks gave Buffy and Spike one night of fake memories. That would have been enough to change their lives. But when you add a glowing key in the form of an unborn baby, well . . . things wouldn’t just change, they would be turned completely upside-down
Disclaimer- Joss Whedon owns Spike’s eyebrow scar, his bleached hair, his crystal blue eyes, his manly arms, his muscular chest, his tight . . . *cough* Too bad isn’t it? But a girl can dream, right?
Spoilers- Starts during Out of My Mind. The entire Season 5, although I changed it tremendously to suit my own purpose
Chapter 7
Sometimes Buffy worried about herself. She enjoyed the fight way too much. She remembered Faith and her downfall. And all she had to do was look to her left and see the twinkle in Spike’s eyes. ‘Dancing’ he called it. But her? She couldn’t help but want to be above them.
Buffy grinned as she circled the slimy thing in front of her. He had long teeth that resembled a walrus, slobber trickling from them. The tusks were blackened and cracked.
“Ewww, they don’t have dental for demons, do they?” Buffy commented.
“Actually they do,” Spike said. He dodged a blow from his own foe. “But most don’t take advantage of it.”
“So I’ve noticed.”
The demon opened his mouth. He made an elephant-like sound. She got a glimpse of his spotted tongue. Gross.
She raised her sword. In one clean motion she cut off the demon’s head. Green ooze splattered. A little got on her red leather pants.
“That better not stain. I just bought these,” Buffy said. She bent to wipe off the blade in the grass. She scrunched up her nose as a sour stench hit the air. She turned her head away. She hoped she’d be able to keep her dinner down tonight. She faced Spike. Apparently he had defeated his opponent.
“Your others a little snug?” Spike asked with a leer.
She sent him a glare.
“Actually you can notice,” he added.
“What are you talking about?”
The vampire gestured to her stomach. “Showing a bit.”
Buffy’s eyes widened. She folded her hands over her middle. “You so can not tell!”
He laughed. “Can too. Face it, slayer, soon you’ll be shopping in the frilly maternity section.”
Buffy began to walk off. “Let’s go find something else to dice and slice.”
He followed behind. “Don’t you think we should call it a night? We’ve been out here for hours. Isn’t the bit a tad knackered?”
“I’m not the least bit tired!” she snapped.
“Ooo, hormones a raging I see,” he taunted.
She definitely needed something to kill.
They found three more demons. After the last one Buffy’s adrenaline rush dissipated and she felt fatigued. Her body begged for her to fall immediately. Spike realized her condition when she leaned heavily against him. He held her up.
“You all right, slayer?”
She didn’t answer. Her eyes fluttered.
“Overdid it, huh? Told you so. You can’t stay out as long as you used to,” he told her. “Why don’t you come back with me? I may live in a crypt but I’ve got a cozy bed waiting.”
The thought should have repelled her. She was so tired, though, so she let him lead her through Restfield Cemetery. Somehow she made it to his home and to the lower level.
He pulled back the covers and helped her under them. He snugly tucked them around her. She closed her eyes and smiled. This felt nice. Black satin sheets, huh? Figured.
“You’ll be good?” Buffy murmured.
“Course,” he said.
She drifted off.
* * *
The torture his promise had created. She was in his bed! He hovered over her, breathing in her scent. She was intoxicating. He wanted her. Not like before. No, that had been entirely physical. Now he wanted to smother her with his love. He was such a poofter.
The small pounding thumped in his ears, mixing with a louder and slower one. Funny, really. At first the sound had angered him, but now all it did was fill him with comfort.
She was deep in sleep now. He could tell by her breathing. He itched to touch her. Just one touch.
He reached out and ran his fingers over her hair. It was so silky, like strands of spun gold.
Curious, he lifted the covers and pushed them aside. Yes, his dreams hadn’t been wrong. She was as beautiful as he imagined. ‘More’ so. He sucked in deeply. His eyes fell onto her belly. He smirked. You ‘could’ tell if you searched hard enough. Somehow the expansion of her stomach only added to the glorification of her.
He glanced at her face. She made no hint of awakening. He slid his hand under her shirt. Oh God! The bump was larger than he had anticipated. The shirt wasn’t baggy exactly, but it hid the significance of the curve. Wow. There was a living creature in there. Being dead for so many years he had forgotten the splendor of life. His mother had been pregnant once more after him. He remembered laying his head down on her rounded belly, closing his eyes, and murmuring to his sister. He hoped she had heard him. She died because of complications at birth.
Things are different now, he assured himself. Doctors are more advanced than in the nineteenth century. Buffy’s baby would be fine.
He could imagine it as a girl. She’d have light blond hair and green eyes, the spitting image of her mum. He clenched his jaw. She’d look nothing like captain cardboard.
Something jabbed his palm. He jerked his hand away. What the . . .? He cautiously put his hand back. It happened again, but this time he kept it there.
“Bloody hell,” he said in awe.
All of a sudden Buffy’s eyes flew open. She pulled away.
“What were you doing?” she demanded. She tugged her top down.
“I wasn’t copping a feel,” he defended. “Just feeling the bit is all.”
“There’s nothing to feel.”
He furrowed his brow. He gestured toward her. “Was kickin for me just a minute ago.”
“Give me your hand,” she requested.
His eyes widened in surprise. He slowly offered his hand. She put it on her warm stomach.
“Do you feel it now?” she asked.
Spike shook his head. She let out a sigh.
“Wait! That’s it, right there!” he exclaimed as he sensed a ripple.
“That’s it? Are you sure?”
“What else would it be?”
Buffy giggled. Spike had never seen her giggle before. She beamed.
“I thought it was gas,” she confessed.
Spike joined in her laughter.
* * *
The lights were on when Buffy came home. She quietly let herself in.
“Buffy?”
Buffy went into the living room. Her mother sat on the sofa. Piles of photo albums littered the cushion next to her. Joyce gathered them up and placed them onto the coffee table instead. She patted beside her in invitation. Buffy accepted.
“It’s kind of late,” Joyce said.
“I was patrolling,” Buffy replied.
“Patrolling? Isn’t that dangerous?”
“It’s always dangerous. But I don’t go out alone anymore. Spike tags along.”
“Oh,” Joyce said. “Tell him to come by sometime and we can chat over hot chocolate.”
Buffy stared in shock. Her mother wanted to hang with Spike? Major wiggy.
“Do-Do you do that often?” Buffy questioned.
Joyce smiled. She patted Buffy’s hand. “No. Oh, honey, I’m careful. I have a bottle of holy water stashed away just in case. But I don’t think I’ll ever have to use it. Spike’s a nice boy.”
“Boy? Mom, he isn’t a boy? He isn’t even a man. He’s a vile, brutal killer. If it wasn’t for the chip. . .”
“I know he’s a vampire. But he’s different somehow.”
Buffy sighed. “I just worry.”
“Don’t. Holy water, remember?”
“Okay.” Buffy eyed the heaping photo albums. “What’s all this?”
Grabbing a green one, Joyce opened it up. There were snapshots of Buffy as an infant. Some were alone and others with her parents. They seemed so happy together.
“Reminiscing,” Joyce said.
Buffy’s mother took another album. This one had pictures when Buffy was older. She turned the page and laughed. Buffy lay on the ground, autumn leaves covering her entire body but her head. Her expression was of pure delight.
“I remember that,” Buffy whispered. “Dad took it.”
“I also found this,” Joyce said. She reached over and took another book. She handed it to Buffy.
‘My Little One’, the title read. Buffy opened it to find entries, clearly her mother’s scrawl. She flipped through the pages. Her hospital bracelet was even taped inside.
“You can keep that,” Joyce said. “And here.” She gave her another book out of nowhere.
This one was called ‘First Little Angel’. It had a picture of a sleeping baby with a halo over its head.
“Mom?” Buffy’s vision blurred.
“Write everything down starting now,” Joyce advised.
Buffy leaned over and threw her arms around her mother. “I love you.”
* * *
Entry one
Dear baby,
Grandma just gave this to me. She’s been pretty disappointed in me lately, and this served as an acceptance token. I’m deeply relieved. Now all I have to do is get Grandpa Giles to make-up (I’ll make him get used to the name).
You’re my little miracle. I never thought I’d have the chance to raise a child. Slayers are supposed to have short lives. But I’m going to try my hardest to be around as long as I can. Giles told me about this slayer in the seventies who died because she cared about her son more than anything else. I don’t care. You are my world, baby. At first I was too numb over how you came to be, but now I love you more than life itself. If only Riley could
Buffy halted her pen. She crossed the last part off. She couldn’t lie to her child. Her daughter deserved the truth.
If only I could offer you a father. I’m so sorry. You have to understand. Spike could never be the daddy you deserve. He’s eaten babies for breakfast. I can’t trust him. Someday he might get his chip out. Then what would stop him? After all this time as imprisoned, his demon would be really mad too. He’d probably go off and kill half the town in one night with all his pent of longing for destruction. I can’t risk it. I can’t tell him.
Buffy closed her eyes and leaned her head back. Even if I want to, she silently added.
___________________________________________
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