Summary: Darla finds out that can’t bring the baby to term, before it’s too late. Spike receives an unexpected visitor. AtS/BtVS crossover.
Rating: 14-A
Warnings: Sex; no. Violence; not really. Language; yes. Bottom Line; if you can watch the shows, you can read this!
Author’s Notes: The time-lines are probably a bit messed up with this. But, let’s say, all’s correct in the Angelverse, it’s the start of season 3. In the Buffyverse, it may be a bit later, Buffy’s alive and - almost - well. Forgive me for whatever I’ve messed up? Okay? ‘Cause, you know, this is just a work of fiction. Complete at 35 pages and over 14,000 words.
Song For This FanFiction: “Never made it as a wise man,
I couldn't cut it as a poor man stealin',
Tired of living like a blind man,
I'm sick of sight without a sense of feeling,
And this is how you remind me...
This is how you remind me,
of what I really am.
This is how you remind me,
of what I really am.
It's not like you to say sorry,
I was waitin' on a different story,
this time I'm mistaken...
And I've been wrong; I've been down,
into the bottom of every bottle...” – ‘This Is How You Remind Me’ by ‘Nickelback’.
Date Started: July 14th, 2002 / Date Finished: July 20th, 2006
Forced Encounters
By ~Delenn~
A body, concealed in a long black coat, moved rapidly through the Sunnydale cemeteries, anxious to find their purpose. Every so often clouds would shift and the moon would shine on the blonde hair of the figure.
Slipping easily through the shadows along graves, the person strode in bold defiance of the night and its many dangers. Finally reaching their destination.
The door to Spike’s crypt swung open and the being silently entered, only to find that it’s owner wasn’t present. Shutting the door, the intruder climbed deeper into the crypt and surveyed the room. After a moment of consideration, the woman sat down on Spike’s bed to await his return.
Spike ran his hand quickly through his peroxide blonde hair; it had been a long night. With his other hand, Spike messaged his ribs, where a large and slimy Makkock demon had landed a hard punch. He glanced up at the near-dawn sky and muttered, “Instead of bloody patrolling, could’a been snug in my crypt by now.” He grimaced, “Slayer’s turning me into the soddin’ poof.”
Reaching his crypt Spike sighed, “I’ll be fine after a nice cup o’ blood.”
Too tired and sore to bother with anything else, Spike entered his crypt and climbed down to the lower level, where he proceeded to pour himself a cup of blood and scotch, regardless of the dark. Not until he turned around did Spike notice the intruder, sleeping on his bed. Spike hastily lit a candle and scowled, “What the bloody hell?”
The figure sat up, rolling her eyes, “Nice to see you too, Spike.”
Spike circled the woman and warily acknowledged her presence, “Darla.”
Darla stood up and stretched, turning slightly to the side. Spike’s eyes widened, “Hell, Darla, when’d you get so fat?”
Darla rolled her eyes and sat back down, hissing, “I’m not fat, you ass, I’m pregnant.”
Spike groped behind him for the counter, finding it, he used it to keep himself standing. “How?” he immediately regretted his choice of words.
Darla grinned wickedly and came closer to Spike than he would have liked her to. “Poor little Spikey, you haven’t figured out how it all works yet?” she patted his shoulder in mock sympathy, “don’t worry, when you’re a big boy, you’ll find out.”
Spike growled warningly at the hand that was on his shoulder, “Watch it,”
Darla chuckled, “Or what, Spike?” she sighed and removed her hand, “Fine, I’ll humor you.”
Spike shrugged and took a step away from the other vampire, “What are you here for, Darla? Come to rub it in?” He gestured to his noggin where the mechanical chip lay imbedded.
Almost sadly, Darla shook her head and retreated away from him, “We’ve never been the best of friends, Spike-”
He rolled his eyes, “That’s putting it bloody mild!”
Ignoring the interruption, Darla continued, “Fact is; we’ve both been screwed over by karma.”
Spike nodded, “Yeah, karma’s a right bloody bitch; but that’s not answering my question.”
Darla sat back down and held the sheets tight in her fisted palms, “I’m a vampire, things like this aren’t supposed to happen, I’m not supposed to be pregnant!” her frustration was rising.
Spike’s reply was quiet, testing Darla’s anger was never smart, and he wasn’t going to risk hurting a baby. ‘Isn’t the kid’s fault the bint’s carrying ‘im,’ Spike reasoned to himself. “Why don’t you go to Peaches?”
Spike could have sworn he heard her sniffle, but that was impossible; Darla had ranted, screamed and threatened to stake him on many occasions, never had she sniffled or even shown human-like feelings.
Darla pulled her knees up on the bed, relaxing her hands and wrapping them around her legs. “What, and have him stake me on the spot?”
Spike was positive he heard her sniffling now, and he was unsure what to make of - or how to deal with - it. He sighed, “You are such a bloody stupid bint sometimes. Don’t you think Peaches cares about his kid? Might knock out his soul he’d be so happy.”
His obvious cheer up ploy fell a little short, but still Darla lifted her head slightly, “You’re still the same insolent brat you always were, Spike.”
Spike sighed and ran his hand through his hair again, “Why are you so convinced Peaches’d kill you?”
Darla smiled sadly, “Because he promised he would, because I can’t carry this baby to full term, because I’m ‘evil’, because he doesn’t care about what happens to me.”
Shocked at her openness, and trying to digest this new information, Spike latched onto the first relevant part, “Whaddya mean you can’t carry the baby to full term?”
“I’m a vampire, Spike, if vampires were able to have children, even due to prophecies, don’t you think it would happen?” her face was emotionless, it wasn’t needed.
Spike shrugged, the thought occurring to him, ‘Buffy would probably be a soddin’ brilliant mother,’ and he put it away for examination later. “I s’pose.”
Darla rolled her eyes in a gesture Spike knew well. Her ‘why I put up with stupid fledglings is beyond me,’ look. “Think about it. Have you ever heard of a vampire having a child?”
Spike rubbed his eyes; he wanted nothing more than to throw her out, curl up on his bed, and sleep until Buffy rudely awoke him demanding information. “Look, Darla, why does this bother you?”
Darla shrugged, putting her head back in her hands, “That’s the problem, isn’t it, Spike? I love it, I love it more than I loved Angelus. And what can I offer it, this… this baby… death?”
Spike shook his head, he’d known that Darla cared in some way for Angelus, but he hadn’t imagined that she could love anything. “You’re really bloody serious?”
From her position on the bed, Darla sniffed, a fact alone that almost made her sick but that she couldn’t help, “Of course I am,” but other than that, she didn’t move a muscle.
Spike, noting that he’d have to make the first move ‘Even if it costs me a fuckin’ limb,’ walked over to the bed and sat down near Darla. “What does any of this have to do with me?”
Stretching out, Darla ran a hand over her stomach, “I have a proposition for you, Spike,”
He raised an eyebrow, motioning for her to continue, “And…”
Darla shook her head in mild amusement, having regained most of her composure, “And, I want to have this baby. I’ve heard about a demon in Africa who can do things like this, but you have to pass tests. If you help me, I’ll make sure that you lose that chip.”
Spike looked at her skeptically, tapping his head, “How do you plan to do that, cut me open and hope for the worst?”
Repressing the urge to smack him, Darla laughed, “Silly boy! I know it will surprise you, but in four hundred years, I’ve made a lot of friends-“
Spike grinned wickedly, determined to get back at her for that ‘silly boy’ remark. “Doesn’t surprise me, once a whore, always a whore.”
Darla pursed her lips, but remained calm, she could always punish him later. “Point being, I have contact with a doctor who has removed these bothersome chips before. I agreed not to kill his family. He agreed to help you… after you help me, that is.”
Regarding this new Darla silently for a few moments, Spike thought about the potential validity of this whole idea. Finally, he reclined, sitting against the wall next to the other vampire, “Well, Darla, what exactly would this entail?”
Buffy looked at Spike in amazement, “You’re what?”
“I’m going on a trip, Luv,” was the immediate reply.
Buffy just shook her head, “Why?”
Spike ran a hand through his hair, “Look, Slayer, you have a few vampires to track down, nothing big. You can patrol without me for a couple months. I got business to take care of.”
Ever so slightly and probably totally against her conscious will, Buffy pouted, “But…”
Spike put a finger to her lips, “Don’t, pet. Whatever your excuse is, just don’t. You’ve got The Scoobies, you’ll be fine.”
Coming back to herself, with a forced mental shaking of her want to not be around The Scoobies so much anymore, Buffy rolled her eyes, “Yeah, right. I was just gonna tell you that you’d better say goodbye to Dawn… Whether I like it or not, she seems to look up to you,” she bit her lip at the whole idea, ‘Why couldn’t Dawn pick a better role model!?’
Spike allowed his irritation at the suggestion that he wouldn’t tell Dawn that he was leaving to come through in his voice. “'Course I’ll say bye to Nibblet,”
Buffy shook her head, mad that she had to admit anything that might make him think he was becoming a part of the group, even as she herself was shifting out of the group and more towards Spike, “Good.”
Spike sighed at her grudging admission and walked off, he didn’t need to hear about how she didn’t love him again. Besides, the sooner Darla left town, the less chance that one of the Slayer’s friends would wind up dead. ‘Not that I care… it‘d just make us leaving harder.’
Buffy rolled her eyes at the vampire's retreating back and continued her patrolling. “Weird much?” she asked to the empty night.
Darla laughed at all the right times, smiled constantly, and made sure that the loose dress she wore hid her four-month stomach. “That’s wonderful, Victor. Sounds like a cruise to remember! What, do tell, are you planning to do in Africa?”
Victor nodded at the dainty young woman, still not able to believe that such a nice girl would be out by herself so late. “That, my dear, is a matter of the least importance. Are you traveling all that way alone?”
A large pale hand came around Darla’s stomach, and rubbed casually, “Sorry to bother ya, mate, but my wife ‘ere needs her rest, so we’ll just catch you another time.”
Darla spun around, more angry than she had been in a long time, but the man just caught her lips in a kiss and ushered her off with a “C’mon, pet!”
As soon as they were out of sight, she was released and Darla restrained her immediate urge to punch the bastard in front of her. “What the hell was that, Spike!?”
Spike, meanwhile, was spitting and alternately wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “Ugh, don’t get all pissy, pet, did that for your own good.”
Fists clenched, Darla hissed, “How was ruining my dinner for my own good? And I swear, Spike, you call me ‘pet’ one more time…”
Spike rolled his eyes, “Calm down, would you, Darla? You think I bloody enjoyed that?! Fact is, if’n the Slayer finds a dead body about to board this ship, she’ll follow us to Africa, and we don’t bloody well need that. Let her think it’s just a vampire still in Sunnydale.”
“I’m touched at your concern, Spike,” was the reply as Darla hit him in the ribs, hard, “I’ll catch a meal on the ship then.”
Ignoring the pain in his side, Spike grabbed Darla by the arm and stopped her from leaving. “Bloody hell you will not! Bodies on the ship’ll be just as bad as bodies on land. I brought blood for us.”
Before he had time to react, Darla had stepped closer, grabbed him by the throat, and was holding him off the ground. “You expect me to drink pig’s blood for weeks? Do you have any idea the fucking cravings I’m having?”
Spike nodded passively and tried to get over his immediate urge to breathe, “C’mon Darla, you’ve always been practical, this is the only way,” he hoped that sounded like a compliment.
Darla dropped Spike, and he could see tears welling in her eyes, although she quickly blinked them back. “You have no idea how much I hate this.”
He didn’t know how to deal with an emotional Darla. ‘Hell,’ he thought ‘I never know how to deal with Darla!’ Spike sighed and patted her on the back awkwardly, “I know, pet. Look, we’ll just stay in most of the time; avoid temptation. You made sure that there’s more then enough room for us to steer well clear of each other.”
Darla rolled her eyes, ignoring that he had called her pet again, she was feeling all fuzzy, and she didn’t like it one bit. “When did you get so boring, Spike?”
“When I got this soddin’ chip. Now c’mon, the ship’s boarding and I wanna be all settled ‘fore dawn,” he didn’t even bat an eyelash.
Darla allowed Spike to maneuver her towards the ship for a few seconds, wondering at this new Spike who ignored her baiting, before she took the lead and walked towards their luxury adjoining rooms.
Spike was pulled out of his sleep by a loud scream. Or at least, he thought he was awake, hard to tell sometimes. Remembering Darla, Spike sighed. He had insisted that the door separating their rooms stay open, incase she had any bad cravings; so far everything had gone all right.
Spike rolled over and looked through the doorway just in time to see Darla rise from her bed and mutter, “Fucking dreams!” before she ran into the bathroom.
Spike could have kicked himself at the moment, ‘Next thing, I’ll be holding her and telling her it’s all going to be all-bloody-right!’ he groaned, but dutifully got up and followed his great-grandsire.
“Darla? I’m coming in,” he called, in the hopes that there weren’t any wooden objects in the bathroom.
The vampiress was standing in front of the full-length mirror, in her bra and underwear, unmoving. Spike turned away and stood against the outside bathroom wall, “Or not. What are you doing? No exits, I already checked.”
“Spike,” came the quiet reply that was so typically Darla, “come see this.”
“No,” was his instant retort. Whatever Darla was playing at, he wanted nothing to do with it.
Her voice became more assertive, “Spike, quit acting like a fledgling and come here.”
Against all his better judgment, Spike walked back into the bathroom, eyes on the floor. “What!?”
Darla still hadn’t moved, “Look in the mirror.”
Spike sighed, ‘Mirrors, safe enough I s’pose,’ and looked up. What he saw startled him. “Now that’s just weird,”
He couldn’t see himself or Darla, obviously, but a little moving figure was visible where Darla’s stomach wasn’t. The baby was visible in mirrors; they weren’t, it was. Darla muttered, “Not natural,” unhappily.
Turning back around at the sound of her voice, Spike took in Darla’s appearance; she seemed tired. A tired Darla was an angry Darla. And an angry Darla was not to be messed with.
Rather abruptly a few pieces clicked into place, and Spike realized that Darla must have been the one to scream; he’d never heard her scream before. The lure was too much to resist and Spike innocently asked, “Bad dream, pet?”
Darla narrowed her eyes at Spike and pushed past him, back into her room. “Leave. I have to get dressed.”
Spike shook his head stubbornly, “What if you decide to catch a meal?”
“Spike,” she growled warningly, “I’m not an idiot; I won’t risk putting the slayer on our trail. Now, leave.”
“Never seen you this vulnerable before,” Spike mused as he walked back towards his room.
Before he could shut the door, it was slammed in his face with a threat of; “Come back in and I’ll show you vulnerable!”
Spike chuckled to himself, ‘Well, good to know that everything’s the bloody same!’
Buffy watched her sister with worry; Dawn was being a real pain lately, “Would you mind putting the dishes away for me?”
Dawn glared from her spot on the couch, but did not move. Buffy set down the dish she was holding and walked into the living room, shutting the TV off. Dawn’s outcry was immediate, “Hey! I was watching that!”
Buffy put her hands on her hips and resented how grown-up it made her feel. “And I was talking, no biggie.”
Dawn reached for the remote, but Buffy was quicker ‘Note to self, Slayer reflexes good when dealing with stubborn little sisters.’ Buffy plopped down on the couch next to Dawn and checked the time, she had a bit before she had to patrol again. “What’s bugging you, Dawn?”
Dawn glared for a good couple seconds before she relented, “Why did Spike leave?”
Buffy’s eyes widened, this little temper tantrum she’d been enduring was over Spike taking a trip? ‘The asshole leaves, and yet he’s still screwing up my life!’ She became conscious of her little sister’s eyes on her, “I don’t know, he had to do something, I guess.”
“How can you not know? He tells you everything!” Dawn was suspicious now.
Buffy rolled her eyes, “Look, he didn’t tell me, I didn’t ask. Therefore, I don’t know!”
She tried a different tactic, “When will he be back?”
“I don’t know, all right?” Buffy rubbed her temples with her hands, feeling as though she should have asked if for no other reason than to shut Dawn up.
Dawn pouted, “This is so massively unfair.”
“Why?”
“Duh!” Dawn now rolled her eyes at her sister, “who else am I going to discuss my favorite TV shows with?”
Buffy relaxed slightly, “Uh, me?”
Dawn looked like she had hit the jackpot, the way her eyes lit up. “Omigod! You’re, like, so behind. I’ll have to tell you all the new stuff!”
Buffy smiled weakly, this was the easy stuff, right? “Okay. Who’s with who, who’s planning what? Give me all the juicy details!”
Dawn just smiled and turned the TV back on, signaling for her sister to sit. “It’ s on now, I’ll give you more information on commercials!”
Buffy checked the time, it was only five; she settled in and prepared to watch the soap opera. “Just remember, Dawn, I have to patrol at sunset.”
Her little sister nodded, “Yep. Shh, it’s starting.”
When Passions finally ended, Buffy was bored; she just couldn’t get into the plot anymore. “Don’t you have homework or something, Dawn?”
Dawn hopped off the couch, “Just a little. I’ll get right started, promise, you go patrol.”
Buffy started to rise from the couch, “Unhuh, ask Willow if you need help.”
s Dawn smiled, “Sure, Buffy,” and ran up the stairs.
Buffy grabbed a stake and headed off to patrol, ‘Why didn’t Spike tell me where he was going?’
Spike was pacing his room irritably. The sun had set over an hour ago and yet he couldn’t go out; he was feeling almost claustrophobic, being inside while it was dark, again. This was day five. ‘If the bint could keep it together we could go out, but no, I’m stuck bloody babysitting her!’ Spike was startled out of his thoughts by a knock on the door, by the time he turned Darla had entered. “Whaddya want?”
Darla rolled her eyes and sipped her mug of pig’s blood calmly, even though the stuff disgusted her. “Feeling cooped up, Spikey?”
Spike’s eyes flashed in warning over the nickname he despised, “What’s it to you?”
“I wondered if you wanted to take an evening stroll?” at his raised eyebrow, Darla chuckled, “Honestly, Spike. I’m not a monster, you know.”
Spike just rolled his eyes, “That was a lousy joke, pet.”
Darla pouted slightly, and Spike had the distinct feeling that she got some sort of sick amusement out of the whole thing. “Oh, c’mon, I’ll be good, promise.”
Frustrated, Spike ran a hand through his hair, “It’s not that I don’t trust you,” he sighed, “but I don’t trust you.”
The victim of more mood-swings than were normal, even for her, Darla looked down at the pig’s blood miserably, there was no amusement now, “Are you planning to keep me locked in here for the entire trip?”
Spike shook his head and looked at his own cup of pig’s blood, sitting on a nightstand, “No, s’pose not.”
“Good,” Darla smiled, “it’s not like you could anyway. Finish your blood, we’re going out.”
Spike picked up his cup and held it midway to his mouth as Darla burst into giggles, “What now!?”
Between slight laughs, Darla asked, thankful that she didn’t have to breathe, “Kiss the librarian?”
Spike shrugged and finished his blood in one gulp, “Souvenir. Was the bloody wanker Watcher’s.”
Darla grabbed Spike’s free hand and dragged him out the door with only a muttered, “Your language, as always, is appalling, Spikey.”
Once out of their apartments, teeth bared, they prepared for an all out brawl. They paused when they heard a friendly, “Well hello there, neighbors! Seems we’ve missed each other until now!”
The vampires spun around to find a man exiting a room across from them. Darla asked, forcing sweetness into her voice, “Victor?”
Spike wondered whose big joke this was, ‘Just bloody fantastic. Darla’s dinner is our neighbor for the rest of the trip!’ Outwardly he grinned and noticed Darla’s vice-like grip on his hand tighten to the point of pain. “Right, good to see you again.”
Victor nodded easily, “Yes, very pleasant. I was about to meet my friend on the outer deck, perhaps you’d like to join us?”
Darla fought to keep a smile on her face at seeing the man who should have been her dinner still alive. Spike jumped in to stop her from snapping Victor’s neck. “Sorry, mate, we’re taking a stroll ‘round the ship.”
And without another word, Spike turned and started walking away. Darla shrugged over her shoulder, “Another time maybe,” as she walked with Spike, ‘Another time, maybe I can make you my dinner!’ was her last thought about the man.
As soon as they were out of sight, Darla released Spike’s hand and growled, “Remind me again why bodies are bad?”
Spike inspected the places on his hand where little bruises were forming and disappearing from her grip. “If you’re having cravings, we’re going back inside.”
“I’m not,” was the hissed reply.
Spike swiftly avoided a punch to his arm, “Would you stop being such a bitch for one bloody second?”
Darla shook her head angrily and stalked off. Spike, hot on her trail, muttered, “Just fucking wonderful.”
When Spike caught up with Darla, she was leaning against a rail looking into the sea, “I hate him, you know.”
Spike was confused, but he figured the best course of action was agreement, “Yeah, soddin’ git that Victor is.”
The other vampire laughed and turned around, so her back was resting against the rail. “Not him.”
Spike ran a hand through his white-blonde hair and considered this statement, “No you don’t, Darla, if you did we wouldn’t be here.”
Darla settled her hands over her stomach, her voice lacking the conviction it usually held. “Still an argumentative fledgling!”
Spike looked over her head at the ocean stretching for miles in the nighttime fog. “What do you want me to say, Darla?”
“Why are you out here?” was the direct question in response.
“You know why,” when Darla showed no signs of understanding, he continued, “I want rid of this chip. If that means getting along with you, I’ll do it. But if you’re going to be such a wench, you can go ahead and kill everyone. Then next boat, I’m turning ‘round.”
Darla smiled thinly, “Long speech, Spikey, been holding that in for awhile?”
Spike pushed past her and headed the long way around the boat, “Shove it. I’m going for a walk.”
As Darla’s laughter followed him, Spike was forced to turn around and add, “You kill anyone, and I’m going to have to remind you who’s stronger now.”
Darla continued to laugh, “Are you sure who’ll win?”
She spoke with such confidence that Spike had to reevaluate his enemy. Muttering curses under his breath, Spike continued on his walk, pretending he hadn’t heard.
When he was out of sight, Darla sighed and rubbed her stomach in a soothing motion, “I suppose I shouldn’t, but it’s just so easy to insult him,” not caring that she was speaking to herself, Darla continued to stare upwards at the night.
Angel watched Cordelia flipping through paperwork. It was the middle of the night; he was wide-awake, “So, any luck on these Makkock demons yet?”
Fred stifled a yawn, “Angel, it’s getting late.”
Wesley pushed up his glasses for the fourth time in fifteen minutes, “No, he’s right. We can’t afford to let these demons roam around any longer then necessary.”
A stray piece of hair fell into Cordelia’s eye, and she blew at it half-heartedly, making little puffing sounds. “Look, not that I have anything against killing slimy green demons, but it’s after midnight, and we’ve been looking for leads for hours.”
Gunn sighed, “She’s right, we’re not going to do any good now anyway.”
Angel nodded, hopping up from his seat, “Right! You all go home, and I’ll hit the streets, see what I can find out.”
Fred wrinkled her forehead in a worried way, “Maybe you shouldn’t go by yourself.”
“Look,” Angel stressed, “I’m not going to go after them now. I’ll just scout around, see what I can find out.”
Gunn shrugged and sat on the couch next to Fred, “Whatever, man, it’s up to Wesley anyway.”
Wesley closed his book quietly and stood up, “Yes, well, maybe it’s best if we were well rested before hunting these creatures down. Are you sure you’re up to it, Angel?”
Angel nodded and was out the door in a flash. Cordelia headed for her jacket, “Well, everyone, that means it’s quitting time!”
The rest of the group nodded their agreement, and everyone headed for the door.
Spike stepped off the walkway and thought he had never been so thankful to see solid land. ‘It was bad ‘nough travelin’ with her before, at least then I had Dru. Cringing at the thought of his ex, Spike took a moment to survey the hot desert night, thankful that vampires weren’t affected by temperature.
Darla’s light sundress ruffled with a passing breeze as she came to stand next to Spike. “We have reservations in a hotel up the road. I thought we could walk, but I can call a cab if you want.”
At the thought of being stuck in a more confined space with Darla, if even for a few minutes, caused Spike to pale more so than usual. “No thanks, pet. Walking sounds ‘bout right.”
Darla rolled her eyes and turned towards the road, glaring at the throng of people unhappily. “Let’s get going then. I want to catch a snack and be in bed well before dawn,” at his morose look she added, “don’t worry, I won’t leave you to that vile pig’s blood.”
Spike sighed, trying to suppress the ever-present urge to just pick Darla up and shake her. “S’not that;” his brain supplied, ‘You stupid bint!’ But he held the comment back, “just reminded me of the ‘Bit is all.”
Darla shrugged; ignoring his sentimentality, as being pregnant was making her feel almost similar sometimes. “C’mon, our luggage is already waiting.”
“Really went all out on the luxury thing, didn’t you Darla,” he bit his tongue but was unable to hold it, “who’d you have to do for such a pay-out?”
Darla pursed her lips, turning away from him and mentally kicking herself for not taking her earlier opportunity to insult him. “I killed some aristocrat,” she paused, grinning, “and, Spike, at least I’m not the one brooding,” and she walked away.
Spike hurried after her, outraged, “Oi, hold up! I do not bloody well brood! That’s Peaches, pet!”
Darla stood for a second, seemingly in thought, “Oh, but you do such a good impression!”
Spike grumbled, “Bloody mood-swings,” but let it go. ‘No use antagonizing her anymore, likely to rip my head off my soddin’ shoulders!’
Darla sighed, feeling something close to empathy to Spike’s position ‘He’s about as helpless and out of place as I was human.’ She gestured for him to catch up with an offhand motion, “All goes according to plan, we’ll have that pathetic chip out of your head soon.”
Darla leaned heavily against the counter, suppressing a moan of boredom. Despite her best efforts, checking into the hotel was proving more of a problem then anticipated. She was tired and grouchy for lack of a better word, “I don’t understand what the holdup is.”
Spike growled in the direction of the usher, drumming his fingers on the table repeatedly, “The hold up, pet, is that some soddin’ nobody didn’t know what they were bloody doing and didn’t check for reservations!”
The usher, whose nametag read ‘Kuma-Gekhi’ considered reminding the blonde couple again that none of this had been his fault. He spoke with a heavy African accent, “I’m sure, if you’ll just be patient, we’ll have all this sorted out in no time.”
“No time,” Darla hissed, pointing at the clock, “would have been an hour ago!”
Kuma-Gekhi gave a noncommittal nod, which left question to whether he understood a word they had said. “Yes, Ma’am.”
Spike, well aware that Darla was willing to rip this man’s head off just for the hell of it, jumped in. “Why don’t you get your supervisor, and we’ll sort it out with that bloke.”
Kuma-Gekhi, while not completely comprehending their words, had a higher understanding of the threat they presented than most mortals, and scurried off to find his boss.
Darla placed her hand over Spike’s in an attempt to get him to stop the incessant drumming that was slowly driving her to madness, and cast a worried glance at the night sky through sliding glass doors. “It’s getting awfully close to morning.”
Spike stared at the offending hand as though it were Makkock slime for a moment, considering whether to break it, before the entrance of Kuma-Gekhi’s boss diverted his attention. “About bloody time, mate!”
Darla looked up at the boss with a raised eyebrow, his hair was slicked back with heavy gel and he looked nothing short of an all American slime ball gangster.
The grease ball of a human was about to extend his hand when he noticed Darla and Spike’s still intertwined, “Well hello you two love-birds! I’m Earl, and I’ll get this all settled for you two in a jiffy.”
The two vampires pulled their hands away as if they had touched fire, and gave each other matching disgusted glares. Eyes flashing yellow in a promise of death if something like that ever happened again.
Earl, having noticed none of this, continued punching things into his computer, “And your name is?”
Spike switched his death-glare from Darla to Earl, “Listen, Earl, we’ve already given our name, room number, and soddin’ credit card to the last three blokes here!”
Earl’s smile was nothing sort of plastic as he pulled up notes from Kuma-Gekhi. “Oh, never mind, got it all right here,” he tapped the desk as if the notes had just appeared there.
Darla took a moment to decide which type of terror would work best, before leaning over the counter, her eyes flashing yellow, and grabbing Earl by his collar. “I want this… obstacle… with getting our rooms, GONE.”
Earl struggled in the death-grip, as he was bodily hauled over the counter, “Of course, if you’ll just put me down, I’ll sort all this out.”
Darla yanked hard on Earl’s collar, preparing to choke him. She was tired, moody and pregnant, and this idiot was getting in the way of her sleeping the day away. “NOW!”
Spike, who had reclined back against a nearby wall as all this took place, now lit a cigarette, uncaring about the ‘No Smoking, Please’ sign on the wall. “I’d do what she says mate; bint is downright homicidal!”
A certain amount of self-preservation kicked in as Earl nodded and was dropped unceremoniously back to his feet. “Yes, of course, Miss D’mont, I’ll have someone escort you both to your rooms.”
Earl poked his head behind a door, and a second later Kuma-Gekhi returned to lead them to their rooms. “This way, sir, ma’am.”
Spike dropped his cigarette to the tiled floor and stomped it out with his boot, following a fuming Darla with a farewell wave to the slimy manager, “Make sure the maids listen to that ‘Do Not Disturb’ sign, yeah, Earl?”
Earl nodded emphatically, heaved a great sigh of relief as the volatile blondes disappeared from sight, and readjusted his tacky tie.
Buffy spun around, aiming a foot at where she assumed the massive demon’s chest was. One extremely large and slimy arm-like tentacle separated itself from the rest, quicker then could be seen. The hand caught her foot, and lifted her up, tossing the Slayer into a strategically placed, nearby, tombstone. It made a horrible chortling sound, indicating its pleasure at throwing Buffy.
For her part, Buffy picked herself up, moaned slightly at the realization that yet another good outfit had been slimed, and glared said offending ball of slime. “Okay, now I’m mad! Did I not specifically say, don’t touch the boots!?”
The Makkock demon crooked his head slightly to the side in a gesture of not understanding, and made a gurgling sound.
The Slayer let loose a fierce barrage of punches and kicks to the demon, lamenting, “Do you have any idea how hard it is to get slime off leather, stylish but comfortable, boots?”
In the face of her fury, the Makkock was quickly reduced to being down on the ground. Buffy did an elegant flip, took a deep breath, reached down and snapped the demon’s neck. There was a loud cracking sound, and then Buffy found herself standing in a large puddle of green slime.
Buffy turned and stomped away, grasping a stake firmly in her hand and just daring any vampires to rise tonight. ‘It’s not bad enough that I have to patrol all the time, but would these Makkock demons get the hint already! I liked them better when they got Spike all slimy, not my boots.’
Up until that point the Slayer had been unaware that she was headed anywhere, but now she found herself at the door to her home. Heaving a great sigh of relief that the night could officially be considered over, Buffy opened the door and stepped inside. “Dawn? Are you done with your homework?”
Apparently the teenager was indeed done, because her head emerged from the kitchen to laugh at her sister. “What did you do, slip and fall into a bucket of slime?”
Buffy pouted slightly, “You’re telling me,” she even ignored the fact that her little sister found this so amusing, “eww, much?”
Dawn bit her lip, trying to keep a straight face as she looked her sister up and down, taking in the globs of slime falling to the wooden floor. “Go take a bath or something would you? I mean, gross!”
A globule of the disgusting green slime fell from Buffy’s hair and right onto her cheek. The slayer made a face and wiped at the offending muck with her hand, “Yeah, Dawn, I think I’ll do that.”
As Buffy ascended the stairs, feeling the sore spot in her back from its meeting with the tombstone, she decided that maybe there had been some perks to having the chipped vampire around.
As if reading her mind, Dawn called out, “You know, he better bring me back a present!”
Buffy shook her head at the teenager and continued up the stairs, listening to the slight sound of her little sister munching on chips. ‘Bath and change,’ was her only thought at the moment.
Spike looked across the couch to find that the other vampire was asleep, her book having fallen to her lap. Quietly he got up and turned off the TV, before moving to lean back against the couch; contemplating whether to kick her out or not. ‘S’not like she doesn’t have her own room to be sleeping in!’ He supposed it was okay as Darla had been good to her word and caught them both a meal, even killing hers before eating. He figured Buffy would be mad if she knew, but he couldn’t bring himself to care; ‘sides wasn’t like the Slayer would come flying over to Africa over a couple deaths. “Oi, Darla, you up?”
Darla looked up from her position resting on the couch and rolled her eyes, “Of course I’m up, you idiot.”
Spike shrugged, very much wanting to point out that the way she was slumping in her chair, it quite looked like Darla actually had been asleep. “No need to get all pissy, then, is there?”
Darla closed her eyes again, and her voice became less hostile, “Spike, I want to show you something.”
“Look, I don’t think that’s a very good idea-”
Undeterred by the disturbing thoughts that ran through her traveling companion’s head, Darla growled and grabbed his hand, “Spike!” before placing it on her stomach.
Spike jerked his hand away, eyes wide, “It’s moving!”
Patiently, Darla allowed a slight smile to cross her face as she let Spike adjust to this fact. “I know. Actually, it’s kicking.”
Spike looked somewhat disconcerted at this new development. Finally, he pulled his hand away and muttered something too quiet for vampire hearing to pick up. “I’m going out, pet.”
Darla watched Spike jump up and start towards the door before she followed his example and stood, coming to block his path to the door. “Spike, what did you say just now?”
Rolled his eyes, Spike sent a quick prayer to whatever listened to a demon that he wouldn’t hurt her, and spoke irritably, “I said I’m bloody going out!”
Darla grinned slightly, refusing to rise to the bait of his temper, even if it was an appealing idea. “No, before that. You said something, what?”
Spike let out a loud sigh, knowing full well that he wouldn’t get out the door until Darla got her answer. “I shouldn’t be here. I shouldn’t bloody be the one marveling over a new life. Soddin’ hell, it’s not my kid; we don’t even get along! Peaches is s’posed to be here, with you and the ‘bit, and I’m s’posed be back home with Buffy and Nibblet!”
Darla’s expression darkened considerably, and her voice had an edge of a threat to it. “You think I don’t fucking know that? Go take up sunbathing!”
Spike growled slightly, pushing his great-grandsire out of the way and leaving the room, slamming the door behind him and calling out, “Maybe I will!”
Spike was at the bar, getting rip-roaring drunk. Hardly surprising considering that Spike’s solution to most problems consisted of alcohol.
Darla tried for casual as she sat down next to him, knowing that she couldn’t call the bartender over and get herself a drink. Of both blood and alcohol. Being pregnant was starting to get very irritating, “You know, I honestly think you’re the first alcoholic vampire I’ve ever met.”
“Oi,” Spike moaned at the familiar but hated voice, “I keep hoping that this is all a bloody nightmare, and you’ll be gone. Have to keep proving me wrong, don’t you?”
Darla swirled her barstool around and grinned at Spike, “You’re sloppy when you’re drunk, now c’mon before you really become useless to me.”
Spike looked a good deal like a pissed off little kid, “No way I’m goin’ nowhere with you!” For good measure he added, “Bitch!”
The vampiress grabbed one of his arms, pulling Spike off the barstool, “Oh, yes you are. We have to get moving tomorrow, and I won’t have you whining about a headache.”
Pouting, Spike was most definitely pouting now, “I do not bloody well whine!”
Darla sighed, a slight twinge of something in her voice that could have been considered affection, but would most likely be blamed on the soul if ever brought up. “Insolent brat.”
Spike halfheartedly attempted to pull away, but made no real effort, and allowed himself to be steered towards the elevator. “Stupid cow.”
Darla just rolled her eyes and continued pulling Spike along with her, “You’ll get yourself staked someday, wandering around drunk like that, picking fights with people.” She refused to examine why that delicious possibility suddenly annoyed her.
Spike, however, grinned at this newfound weakness, “Aww, pet, didn’t know you cared!”
“One more word, Spike,” Darla countered with a hiss, “and it’ll be me staking you!”
Spike wasn’t quite that drunk yet, it hadn’t taken Darla very long to figure out where he was, “I meant what I said, you know.”
Darla shrugged, a definite smile tugging at her lips, she waited a moment and allowed the smile to turn wicked, “This from the man who spends seventy percent of his time in a drunken haze. But… I did too.”
Spike growled a little loudly and muttered some choice curses under his breath, but managed to hold his tongue and say nothing antagonizing this time. ‘If we survive this without killing each other, it’ll be a bloody miracle!’
Angel was knee deep in Makkock slime, literally. If the Makkock was really dead it dissolved into complete slime, and the vampire had gotten the extreme luck of running into a nest of them. He was winning, but that didn’t make the slime any more pleasant.
Casting a quick look around, Angel realized that most of the Makkock’s were retreating, as they couldn’t fight properly in the green globs of guts from their family any more than Angel. “Well, looks like you guys have the right idea for the first time,” he mused.
One demon paused in mid-flight to shake what the vampire assumed was a fist, or just a great meaty, slime covered paw, at Angel threateningly. It looked an awful lot like he was being flipped off. “Hey, watch it, you don’t want me going soulless on the rest of your friends, do you?”
He was both pleased and disgusted that his proclamation caused the demons to turn tail and flee. It was great because that meant fight over, time to get out of slime, but it was unsettling to know his counterpart still had such a sway. “I didn’t even know Makkock’s could understand English!”
A stray lock of hair chose that moment to fall onto Angel’s forehead and he swept it back before thinking, only to be confronted with the fact that he now had Makkock slime in his hair and no way of seeing to get it out. As he started walking back to the hotel, via sewers thanks to the latest fight, Angel lamented, “Perfect way to end my night, with slime in my hair. I should get an award for sacrifices like this.”
That was a depressing enough thought to make the vampire speed up his steps for home. There was nothing Angel wanted more at the moment then to have a long, hot, shower and never see another Makkock demon again. ‘Is that too much to ask?’
Apparently, it was as a large group stepped in front of him, baring their paws in a menacing gesture. He still wasn’t sure if they were flipping him off, or if that was a horn. “Great,” he muttered, “reinforcements.”
“I’m opening the curtains, rise and greet the sunshine!” A flash of light started and glared on the slowly awakening vampire.
Spike sprang up and dived under the covers, shouting, “What the bloody hell! You soddin’ crazy bint!”
Laughter filled the room as Darla pulled the covers down from over Spike’s head and peered at him from the bright light, watching him wince with a slight headache. “Serves you right; you slept all day. Electricity, Spike, move past the eighteen hundreds, would you?”
She tossed his jeans and a clean shirt at him, having already lectured him on his refusal to sleep in clothing. Spike eyed her warily, wondering why she was invading his space and already knowing why she had woken him up. Under his breath he sighed, “Crazy chit,” before asking louder, “what’m I s’posed to do with these?”
Her eyes narrowed to slits and she eyed him carefully, Spike held onto his covers in fear that she would consider doing something unpleasant to him, which she most likely was planning. Exhaling needlessly, Darla announced, “Get dressed. We’re going to find that demon today, he’s going to be hard enough to track without you taking forever.”
About to protest, Spike stopped short as his great-grandsire turned vampire sibling sat on the bed next to him. Before he could ask what was up, Darla had pried one of his hands off the covers and placed it over her fabric-covered stomach. Spike could feel the mound where her stomach had always been flat and if he listened closely, he could hear a faint sound similar to a heartbeat. “It’s growing, pet.”
Pulling away, Darla almost seemed embarrassed at having shared anything at all with Spike. “Will that assure you for the moment that I am not trying to dispose of your useless self?”
But the male vampire was grinning decidedly, “That was emotion,” he announced pointedly, “you are starting to go soft on me in your old age.”
A wicked smirk echoed on the older vampire’s face and Darla couldn’t help but resist changing the pitch of her voice to the sweet one that always set Spike’s teeth on edge and would for sure aggravate his hangover. “Finish that sentence and see how sentimental I’ve become, Spike, as I rip out your intestines for you.”
Spike tried in vain to cover his ears with his hands without letting go of the blanket, the result was that he yanked the tangled mass of hotel covers up, leaving his feet uncovered, and the twisted mess wrapped firmly around his body. Finding himself uselessly trapped, with his head submerged up to his ears in sheet and blanket, Spike yelled out, muffled by the blankets, “Oi, Darla, help!”
Surveying the mess Spike had made of his bed with amusement, Darla raised an eyebrow at his pleas of help, for a vampire he had apparently not mastered getting out of bed. Moving back towards the bed, she tried to make heads or tails of the blankets, but the squirming vampire in their midst was making it impossible. “Hold on, would you stop fidgeting, William!”
Shocked suitably by the use of his real name, which she had rarely even called him when he still went by it, Spike stilled himself. So rare was the use of that name that he couldn’t even recall if it meant she was mad or pleased with him. Petulantly, he demanded, “Get these soddin’ things off of me!”
Hovering over the bed, Darla plotted a course of action, noting that Spike had done as she had asked. She swooped down but didn’t pull at a blanket edge; instead, she scratched long nails lightly against the soles of Spike’s captive feet. When he tried to yank himself free, laughing, Darla chided him, “Ah, ah, you’re moving again.”
Gasping for unneeded breath under his blanket prison, Spike continued to laugh, shocked that she had remembered this weakness enough to exploit it. The fact was, his feet were extremely ticklish, and he was decidedly trapped in the tangle of blankets he had created. Trying to unpin his hands and legs uselessly, Spike did manage to get his face free, “Oi, bloody hell, stop that!”
Not even sure of why such a playful mood had struck her, Darla decided to leave well enough alone and assume she was mildly punishing him for being such an insufferable jackass. Leaving one hand to tickle him, Darla surveyed the blankets from a new angle as her other hand crept up to find an end to pull at. It was a tricky mess because the last thing Darla wanted was to pull the wrong side and end up with a naked Spike. “Hold still, I’m trying to figure this out.”
Still unable to stop laughing, Spike resorted to drastic measures as her hand drifted just above his body in an effort to undo the blankets. Looking up, he realized that Darla was now sitting on the bed again, determined to tickle him to death. Growling, Spike threatened, “I’ll bite you!”
Finally she released him, intrigued by this supposed threat, “You will what?” she asked, finally finding the corner she wanted and pulling, sending Spike spinning in the bed but decidedly less tangled and thankfully still covered.
Panting needlessly, something he had never been able to get over, Spike glared up at his former great-grandsire, realizing that he had to be careful in what he said. Darla was getting mood swings, even for her, and the last thing Spike wanted was to make her feel threatened, she probably would open the curtains on him. He wriggled his eyebrows before flashing his game face, “I’ll bite you.”
Laughing, Darla hopped off the bed and retrieved Spike’s jeans from where they had fallen, once again tossing them at Spike, this time hitting him square in the face. Walking towards the door, she called out, “You’re an intolerable pig! Get dressed before I find ways to torture you that are more painful. I’ll be waiting downstairs.”
Spike stared blankly as she left the room, more confused than he had predicted. Mood swings were one thing, but he could have sworn she was being pleasant! As soon as the door shut, Spike scrambled out of bed, pulled open the curtains, and checked the sky, finding it still black. ‘Well, no red sky, that’s a good sign. Still, must be a bloody apocalypse if that crazy bint’s being civil.’
Darla was reclining against the wall, talking to a couple that was very unfortunate to have caught her gaze. She looked up as Spike entered, having heard him coming from halfway down the stairs. He was dressed and smoking yet another cigarette. As he got close enough, Darla turned from the couple and half growled, “Took you long enough.”
Ignoring her comment, Spike took another deep drag from his cigarette and even managed to refrain from blowing the smoke in her face, just to piss her off. Instead, Spike motioned towards the man and woman who Darla had been talking to, “Who’s this lot then?”
Forcing a fake smile onto her face, Darla introduced, “Spike, this is Cathy and Frank, they’re here on their honeymoon, isn’t that sweet?” Spike gestured for her to go on before he had to gag and she did, “They’ve decided to take us for lunch, the dears, and we’re just figuring out whether to take their car or ours.”
Not wanting to sound like a total fool, Spike didn’t ask ‘We have a car?’ Instead, he dropped his fag, stomping it out, and said, “Well, pet, probably easier if we take ours.”
Suddenly Cathy burst out laughing, loudly announcing, “Ooh, you’ve got that accent too, everyone here does. Are you… uh… from Africa?”
He had to stare at the dumb brunette for a full minute before the audacity of the insult sunk in. He cast a look at Darla just to be assured that they would indeed be eating these people, before stiffly pointing out, “Actually, I’m British,” he turned to Frank and grinned with mock sympathy, motioning to both Darla and Cathy, “those silly chits, eh, Frank?”
Darla half growled at the insult, both from being called a chit and from being lumped into any group with the pathetic mortal. Cathy, for her part, kept on smiling, the offense having totally passed over her head. Before Cathy or Frank could say anything else, Darla grabbed Spike by the arm and gestured for the other couple to follow her, “Okay, let’s get going then. The car’s this way.”
Her grip was leaving bruises, Spike was sure, but he let it go for the moment, figuring that tossing her off of him would make even the idiots behind them suspicious. Speaking low enough that only Darla would hear him, Spike asked, “Why’re we putting up with these blokes at all?”
Pulling out a business card, Darla let the other vampire catch the names. The Lord and Lady McConnehay’s, royalty, sufferable if one realized how unbelievably sweet their blood was. Darla grinned as she watched Spike lick his lips, hastily telling him the other surprise, “I caught some vampire at the hotel, vacationing with his fledgling brood,” she flashed yet another piece of paper at him, “with some convincing, I got directions to our demon.”
“Getting too old to remember these things, Pet?” Spike couldn’t help but tease his great-grandsire.
Darla growled low and dangerously, daring the other vampire to call her old again, but motioned at the writing on the paper anyway. “It’s not my writing, you ass, besides how else was I supposed to get you to come. Out of the goodness of your little trustless heart?”
Conceding her that point, Spike smirked as they rounded a bend that led them into total darkness. He slipped into game face and watched Darla do the same as she swiftly killed their meals. As he prepared to enjoy the sweet aristocratic blood, Spike mused, ‘Might not be such a bad trip after all.’
“How many times do I have to tell you not to bite humans, it’s evil and wrong and now I’m so going to kill you!” The Slayer lamented, ready to break out into a full on lecture of the evils of vampires.
That was, until she noticed that the intended vampire snack was still sitting on the ground, frozen by fear. Sighing, Buffy took a break from pummeling the unfortunate vampire and pulled the young girl up, suggesting, “You might want to run.”
Seeming to come back to life, the girl scrambled off at a speed that could have rivaled the Slayer’s. Buffy sighed again, “A thank you would have been nice,” she turned back to the vampire, which was still lying dazedly on the ground, “and don’t even get me started on you, mister.”
“Look, a guy’s gotta eat, y’know? It’s not like you knew her,” he tried in a placating tone. Unfortunately his speech was slightly slurred by his fangs and busted lip, he was obviously recently turned, and he was still growling.
Buffy didn’t buy it for a moment, kicking him in the gut and announcing, “So, it’s okay if that girl has family, friends, just because she wasn’t my family or friend? I should let you eat someone who could potentially discover something really like,” she paused, trying to think of something that wouldn’t exclude vampires, “important to the entire world just so you can keep on unliving?”
The vampire shrugged, swinging a punch that Buffy easily ducked and getting tripped by her swinging foot. Puffing needlessly on the ground, the vampire gave up, “It was just an idea, Slayer.”
As she easily plunged the stake into the unsuspecting amateur vampire’s back, Buffy called out to the rapidly forming dust, “The name’s Buffy.”
Dusting off her clothes, Buffy turned towards the nearest tombstone and hopped up on it, thinking not for the first time that the new vampires were getting stupider the more she encountered. ‘Or maybe I’m just getting better, that would be cool,’ she mused half-heartedly.
The night was eerily quiet considering the amount of vampires she should have been facing by now. According to the never-failing once-yearly apocalypse, it was high time for something horrible and world endy to happen.
‘And damn it, I don’t mean to sound so thrilled that the world could possibly end!’ Buffy shrugged and realized that all this lack of demon activity was giving her far too much time to think. Of course, the whole set-up smelled like a trap, and Buffy could still sense that much. It was as though something had scared off all the demons, something big and very bad.
Than again, it could just have been all those damn Makkock’s that had been lurking for the last month. So far, Buffy had lost two leather jackets, eight pairs of jeans, and at least ten tops to the fabric destroying Makkock slime. She couldn’t even imagine how Spike’s duster had survived its brief run-in with the nasty green sledge.
‘Spike. As in the Spike that is nowhere to be found,’ Buffy had, due to Dawn’s insistent pestering, actually asked around about the bleached-vampire who was nowhere to be seen. It seemed as though he had just up and left, except Clem was currently guarding most of Spike’s belongings at his crypt.
These thoughts immediately led in two very opposing directions; first to Angel and how he had left her, suddenly, without a goodbye, and second to Dawn. Dawn who right now was probably waiting for Buffy to get home and cook something. Or attempt to cook something, the two of them still ended up ordering pizza most of the time.
Checking one last time that there were no more strange demons or hungry vampires around, Buffy jumped off of the tombstone and unerringly made her way through the dark cemetery towards her home. ‘Back to my other work, I guess.’
“And just whose bloody brilliant idea was it to create this place?” Spike asked, his distain for their surroundings obvious even without the comments he kept insisting upon making. But surveying the typical tasteless surroundings, even a vampire who held residence in a crypt understood it was ridiculous.
Shrugging, Darla flitted her gaze across the area just briefly, it was nothing spectacular but she had certainly seen worse places. Besides, this was a rare demon’s lair; of course, it would be a dank, dark, cave, complete with the smell of wet rock. She didn’t catch the smell of fresh blood though, and Darla couldn’t decide if this was a good thing or it just meant that this demon dealt exclusively with other demons. “Would you prefer something more modern, pet?”
The other vampire scowled at the use of his own term of a nickname against him. The effect was decidedly menacing since both vampires were in game face to see properly in the dark caverns. Recognizing the insult as a knock to his time spent at the Initiative headquarters, Spike mentally debated the pros of telling her to be nice or he’d leave. But Darla already knew how much he wanted his chip out, and he was already in fuckin’ Africa. “Ta, well, I s’pose this will do for a bit of the ole rough ‘n’ tumble.”
Bringing a hand up to her forehead, Darla rubbed at her ridges in a gesture of frustration; there was something about getting a headache while in game face that just irritated her to no end. “Let’s just get on with it, Spike, enough staring at the artwork.”
While the grotesque displays of creatures, some of which even Darla couldn’t recognize, were truly a sight to behold, enough time had been spent dawdling on them. Spike nodded reluctantly, agreeing that right now he just wanted this whole ordeal over with. He imagined there was pain in store for him down this path, but in the end, it would be worth it. “Been thinking, pet, after this all, we going straight home, or don’t you think we should have a quick victory slaughter?”
“I couldn’t have said it better…” Darla paused in probably one of the few complements she had ever made out loud about Spike when the demon emerged out of the shadows behind the other vampire, “William, you might want to turn around.”
Noting the look in her eyes that said she was serious in a fraction of a second, Spike spun around to face the potential attacker. It was nothing more than a pair of glowing eyes that had emerged from the shadows but the vampire’s senses were telling him the creature he couldn’t see was big, really big. “Well, lookie here; seems the welcoming committee hasn’t forgotten us after all.”
The eyes moved slightly to indicate that the demon was sizing them up. It breathed in deeply, and even the vampires could feel that the temperature of the air around them had cooled significantly, like the beast had literally sucked any warmth from it. With a deep, ancient sounding, voice, the demon boomed out, “Why have you disturbed me, vampire, do you really think you will pass the tests?” He was decidedly looking past Spike, right at Darla.
The vampiress sneered, letting everyone present know exactly what she thought of the older demons statement. However, it was Spike who replied, stepping forward and growling slightly until he was sure that those glowing eyes were focused on him. “She’s not taking the tests, I am.”
The eyes tilted, showing that the demon had tilted his head slightly in what Spike desperately hoped wasn’t some sort of death threat-like gesture. After a moment’s pause, at which the demon breathed in several more times and the temperature in the cave again dropped, it spoke again. “And if you passed you would really be willing to give up your reward for her wishes?”
Darla raised her eyebrow at this whole exchange, not feeling the need to contribute to either of the other’s help. Spike could explain this without her, and if he couldn’t, she didn’t think it would much matter when this demon was through with him. As for big and stupid, she had little desire to see him the victor of this contest.
It took another second, but Spike finally nodded, slightly unnerved that in all probability he would still be stuck with the chip after all this, only in severely more pain. He didn’t trust Darla’s word, and he certainly didn’t like the sound of the old demon in front of him. “Yeah, yeah, let’s get this on with, shall we?”
A sound much like a chuckle escaped the demon, “You won’t win, young vampire, and most likely you will not survive either,” when Spike didn’t so much as flinch, the demon simply continued speaking - its tone never changing. “You,” the eyes shifted back to Darla, “do not interfere.” The eyes slowly receded back into the gloom.
Spike was just about to ask if that was it when a creature stepped out from the rocks, shook his head slightly, and then fixed his stony gaze on Spike. Darla took a slight step back, mostly because she knew that if she didn’t she would probably join the fight, on Spike’s side. Instead, she settled for simply flashing her golden eyes at the demon, “What are you waiting for, Spike? Rip him to shreds.”
The demon snorted, Spike growled. Then the vampire launched himself at the rocklike creature with a whoop and that was all it took for the full out fight to begin. Darla watched the carnage with appreciation as more of the stone things stepped out when Spike defeated the others. At least I’ll have entertainment while I wait…
It took several minutes for the vampire to become orientated in his surroundings once again. The last thing he remembered was the smell of his own charred flesh, a deep voice saying something he couldn’t remember, and pain. Lots of bloody pain.
Once he realized the events preempting his wonderful, if presumably brief, escape to oblivion, it still took Spike awhile to figure out what was going on and why he was no longer in a dank, dark cave. He struggled for a moment to open his eyes, but found the endeavor useless. “Oh, buggery, soddin’ hell…”
There was some shuffling, then a lapse of silence before an unfortunately familiar voice spoke up and barely noticeable footsteps echoed off what had to be wooden floors. “I see you’re up by your tasteless butchery of the English language.” Another pause and then there was a shift of weight on whatever he was lying on and a cup was pressed to his lips. “Drink this.”
If anything, this served for further agonize Spike, not feeling anywhere near up to dealing with the older vampire and certainly not liking the idea of her seeing him so weak. With quick, short, motions, Spike shook his head, declining whatever was being offered, wary of the knowledge that he would have to be fed. “ ‘M fine.”
There was a sigh and Spike could almost see Darla rolling her eyes at him. He could now tell that they were on a bed by the way it kept shifting every time the vampiress moved. Once she was settled again, cup still against his lips and tilted so that a small dribble of blood brushed against Spike’s slightly parted lips, Darla spoke. “William, you are not fine, so shut up and let me help. I’ve seen you in much worse condition than this, granted I caused a good deal of it, but I have no desire to prolong your pain right at this moment.”
It was hard to resist blood, and somewhere he understood that by Darla logic, this made sense. Cautious of possible pain from several nasty hits to his face, and still not quite able to manage his game face, Spike opened his mouth a little wider and winced as cool liquid was poured down his throat. After only a second he realized what the taste was and sputtered for a moment, before the glass was pulled away. “What the bloody hell was that for?!”
Standing up so that she no longer shifted the bed, possibly aggravating Spike’s already numerous injuries, Darla wandered over to the table and sipped her own mug of much different blood, already feeling more able to withstand the constant cravings. “Trying to get you well enough to get that chip out of your head.”
Already feeling the effects of the heady concoction he had just ingested, Spike managed to open one eye just enough so that he could vaguely see his surroundings. He watched Darla for a long moment before he determined that she was not lying, and wearily closed his eye again. “This mean we’re right ole’ pals then?”
Stretching leisurely, Darla finished her blood and set the cup down, running her hands along her body, already feeling the power returning to her - tenfold. Picking up the mug she had prepared for Spike, Darla came back over to him and placed it against his still-too-pale lips again. “Mm, I suppose. I don’t give my blood to just anybody, you know.”
There was a long silence as Spike finished the blood she had offered, a mix of the older vampire’s potent blood and what tasted like the blood of a child. Pure innocence combined with ancient corruption; a miracle to boost a vampire’s healing system. Only once he was finished, did Spike speak again, “I take it the haughty ole’ bastard kept his promise?”
Darla nodded, more to herself than to Spike, given that he still had his eyes tightly closed. She absently set his empty cup on the bedside table, allowing a small laugh to escape her. “And then some.” She lay down next to Spike on the bed, placed her head next to his and whispered teasingly in his ear, “Can’t you hear it? The power of centuries; mine.”
Licking his lips, Spike caught the lingering taste of blood and tried to separate Darla’s from whatever child she had caught and bled. Tried to feel it, like he once remembered Dru teaching him, trying to see the difference and make sense of what Darla was saying. Then he caught it, and a slight smirk graced his lips. “Just like you’d never died.”
A chuckle sounded as she caught his smirk, undoubtedly from the realization that her blood would not only heal him faster, but also make him powerful, much more so than the already considerable power that Spike contained. “Better; the Master’s dead, leaving me the oldest member of our line, all his blood in mine is amplified… it’s better than drinking a Slayer dry.”
Feeling the life starting to return to his limbs, even willing to ignore the blinding pain that entailed, Spike opened his eyes and regarded the vampiress lying next to him, her own trademark grin in place. “Guess that does make you a right old bint!” He waited for her inevitable scowl before continuing, “Welcome back, great-grandma, Peaches won’t know what hit him!”
Rolling her eyes again, Darla lazily ran a hand through the bleached-blonde locks that were curling messily after Spike’s long fight with the familiarity of one who had known him for most of his undead life. “I don’t think I ever told you, but I like the blonde - it suits you.” Before a reply could be had, she tightened her grip and yanked slightly, aware that the pain wouldn’t compare to all Spike’s other suffering but leaving it as a warning. “Angel will not know about this.”
Groaning, Spike went to raise his arm and bat her off but abruptly changed his mind when the harsh motion caused more pain in his arm than anything Darla was doing. Deciding to leave it be, Spike nodded. “Gotcha, an’ the li’l’ evil’s gonna be all right, then?”
The bizarre choice of a nickname caused Darla to smile slightly as she let go of Spike’s hair. She shook her head slightly to clear the persistent craving-induced headache that was already returning, wanting to scream, I just fed! However, she refrained, forcing herself back to the present, and steeling her resolve for what was next. “Yeah,” a deep, unneeded breath, “thanks.”
Blinking for more than a moment, Spike finally regained control of himself after possibly one of the top ten things he had never expected to hear being uttered… right up there with Buffy saying, ‘gee, Spike, I love you so much,’ and Dru claiming, ‘forget Angel, he can rot in hell for all I care…’ He nodded gruffly, speech still slightly slurred from the beating he’d taken. “Jus’ get this damn thing outta my head an’ we’ll call it even.”
“You’re telling me the cure for all this is blood?” The incredulous vampire asked, well aware that it was ironic for him to be wondering that it was all about blood, but feeling justified, given the situation.
Wesley shifted awkwardly under the incredulous stares of all present and the weight of the large volume on demons that he was quoting from. Looking up once again, he nodded the affirmative, “Well, yes. Makkock blood to be exact.”
Piping up from her spot lounging on the couch, Cordelia inquired with a disgusted wrinkle of her nose, “Do they even bleed? I mean I thought they just… slimed…”
Angel sent her a warning growl from his position, irritable at even the mention of Makkocks and very unwilling to discuss anything to do with their ‘slime.’ Realizing that everyone had his or her attention focused on him, the vampire elaborated. “Bad memories.”
Obviously trying hard not to laugh, Cordelia nodded slightly, trying her best to look apologetic because she really was. Even if the memory of Angel walking into the hotel, looking for all the world that he’d taken a swim in Makkock slime and subsequently spending most of the day in the shower, still sent her into fits of giggles. “Whoa, sorry Big Guy, forgot that’s still a touchy subject.”
After a moment of silence ensued, Wesley attempted to direct attention back to his brilliant discovery, so that they could all move past the most troubling event that was anything to do with Makkock demons, and promptly forget that they even existed. “As I was saying, if you set fire to the Makkock blood, which does quite look like green slime, than it should travel through the core pack until they are all dead within radius of California.”
Now it was Gunn’s turn to groan, looking at each other person in the room before returning his gaze to Wesley, and muttering, “Fire?! All this shit we’ve gone through with these ugly-ass things, and fire will take them out?”
Speaking up for the first time since Wesley had announced his potentially life - and clothing - saving discovery, Fred said, “Well, shouldn’t we get going then?” She cast a pre-apologetic glance towards Angel, “After all, that ‘pool’ of Makkock slime is probably still there, right?”
“Fresh blood,” Wesley elaborated quickly, watching with as much distaste as his friends at the prospect of finding yet more of the demons. If it was possible, Angel looked more irritated about the possibility of finding new Makkock’s than taking another trip into the building full of Makkock slime.
Everyone simultaneously looked down at their clothing and shook their heads, without a word, the assembled group turned to go find the spare clothing they kept at the hotel and change into something that would not cause tears when it was ruined. Glad that at least one demon population would die without further trouble or apocalypse predicting prophesies.
Despite what had managed to be another exceptionally brutal ship ride, Spike was downright chipper as he crashed the rent-a-car right through the 'Welcome to Sunnydale' sign, shrugging not-at-all-apologetically, "Sorry love, Tradition."
"Why am I not surprised? Just Spike wreaking havoc on unsuspecting inanimate objects again," came the reply from next to him.
Shaking his head, Spike spared a glance from the road to study Darla. Her reply was more teasing and less malicious than most the duo had shared, but they'd come to a sort of understanding as of late. Several months together, the removal of one chip, and the saving of one only-really-supernatural baby tended to forge strange bonds. After all, stranger things had happened. "Never thought I'd be glad to see SunnyHell."
Darla smirked, but let the comment slide. Curled up on her side of the, quite roomy actually, luxury vehicle, she glanced out the window and attempted to get comfortable despite her incredibly large seven-month stomach making things difficult.
Soon enough they'd reached the cemetery, crashing the car recklessly through gravestones to stop by Spike's crypt. Thankful that her nausea had long since abated, Darla swung the car door open, reaching for her bag. Spike appeared to help her out of the car, as it was somewhat difficult for her to maneuver, vampire-reflexes be damned, before grabbing his own bag.
Swinging his door open with the customary bang, Spike called out, "Clem, honey, I'm home." Waiting for his demon friend to appear all nervous and irritated.
No Clem appeared. Instead, emerging from the bottom level of his crypt was a very brassed off Slayer, "Do you have any idea how crazy Dawn's been driving me while you were off running errands?!"
Spike's bag fell to the ground with a thump, as the Slayer finally managed to look up, her jaw dropping from any one of many combinations. "Slayer. Really, meant to call. Been a little," he paused, glancing between the two blondes, "busy."
It was a lame excuse and Spike knew it, given the situation. Darla, never one to make a bad situation better, smirked at Spike, "Really, I don't see what you find so appealing about her, William. The open-mouthed look is a tad mundane, isn't it?" She turned back to Buffy, who was still staring at her with some horror. "Oh, don't look so scandalized. It's Angel's."
Blows delivered Darla waited for Buffy to snap out of her shock, which occurred quite quickly. Buffy took one look at the two vampires and withdrew a stake from the recesses of her coat, "Okay, so somebody better start making sense before I go all Slayer and stake the vampires. Because I'm kinda stuck on alive, how? And baby, how? No, wait, don't answer that."
Stepping in front of Darla protectively, Spike put his hands up, "No need for that, pet. You and I can sit down and have a heart to heart and I'll tell you all about Africa… Darla'll be out of your hair in no time. Gonna pay the Poof a visit."
"I'm even on my best behavior," Darla smirked, setting down her bag and moving towards Spike's fridge, uncaring of the Slayer and her little wooden toys. Spike could handle it and, if not, Darla was strong enough to take care of herself.
Shaking her head at the surreal world she had apparently been thrown in, Buffy shot back, "And I'm buying this because of the surprise lobotomy?"
Banking on a cheap ploy, Spike sighed. "Look at her, Slayer, does she really look in any condition to harm anything? We're just stocking up, then we'll be on our merry way, and you can forget Darla was even here." He lowered his voice, approaching Buffy, "You're not going to hurt her, love. Nobody is. Don't let's make it an issue, yeah?"
Sitting down heavily on Spike's sarcophagus, not letting go of her stake for a moment, Buffy nodded. "I need a drink." She took in the two blonde vampires, one very pregnant. "And, did you say Africa?"
It had taken a hell of a lot of convincing to get Buffy to forgive him, for the Africa trip, for Darla's presence, for not having his chip and for not being evil. It was finally Dawn who won her over, informing her sister that, if Spike went away again, Dawn would personally be holding Buffy accountable.
And pointing out that Spike had been "So not evil" for a long time, chip or no.
Buffy hadn't been happy. She still wasn't. Especially about Spike's chip, or lack thereof. But damnit, he was her vampire and she'd missed him and he'd promised that she could kick his ass if he got out of line. She was holding out judgment on the Darla issue until they got to L.A. and had a 'heart to heart' with Angel.
Who had never mentioned any of this. No call to say, "Hey, my sire's undead again, just thought I'd let you know." But then, Angel had never been big on conversation.
Which meant that the three blondes, two of them bottled, two of them vampires, and one of them pregnant were stuck in the luxury rent-a-car together, on their way to the City of Angels, or one in particular.
Darla was sprawled out in back, wrapped up in Spike's duster, resting. She had been, insults aside, amazingly indifferent to Buffy's presence, which both surprised Buffy and went a long way towards convincing her that the world had ended without her notice. She wondered if this counted as an apocalypse.
Buffy was up front, Spike driving. They had managed alone time, time where they had actually talked in between insults and Spike had shown Buffy blood bags, promising that his chiplessness was only for defense, and that he would even sit in a room with Xander for a whole day and not harm him to prove it.
However, Buffy had not yet informed her friends of the situation, waiting to see how some of it settled out, and so she put a rain check on the idea. Dawn had been thrilled at Spike's return, and Buffy couldn't deny that three months was a long time to think. It was long enough to realize that life, despite its trials, was actually worth living, and that Buffy had not been entirely herself when she'd first come back.
She'd been bad to Spike, unfair, and Buffy was realizing that it was time to make amends. She'd decided to give Spike the chance to prove himself - once Darla was actually gone and things had settled down.
So, when she reached out her hand, tentatively settling it on Spike's bare arm, he was surprised. But very, very pleased. They exchanged a nod and slight smile before Buffy caught the sight of headlights and squealed, "Road! Road. Watch the road!"
Smirking, Spike swerved out of the way of the semi and continued his breakneck pace, "Got everything under control. Don't get your knickers in a twist, Slayer."
"Well, excuse me. Some of us can actually die, you know." Buffy swatted his arm.
From the back, Darla laughed, "Oh, you should have seen the ride here. This is Spike driving safely."
With that thought to make Buffy pale, she closed her mouth, concentrating on not looking at the scenery blurring past and remembering that this meant they'd be in L.A. sooner rather than later.
Angel was enjoying a peaceful evening at home, not out fighting any slimy monsters, as the Makkocks were most definitely gone in a fiery blaze of glory. The thought was almost enough to make Angel giddy, as it had taken months to wipe out all the nests.
Wesley's estimates had proved slightly optimistic, as there had ended up being some sort of convention and several strains of Makkocks to wipe out. But they were finally gone. Along with a number of other nasty demons that they had run into along the way.
The others had taken the night off, and Angel was quite content to do the same. He felt he'd earned it.
An engine roared by outside, cutting dead. Barely had Angel blinked at this unexpected development, when the door to the hotel banged roughly open and a gratingly familiar voice blared out, "Oi, Wanker, get up here."
Ignoring the headache that was beginning to form already and sending a hopeless look up, The Powers That Be had a really sick sense of humor sometimes, Angel set down his book, careful not to lose his place, and headed toward the lobby.
The door was quite off its hinge, having been knocked in despite the locks. That was not, however, the most surprising sight to greet Angel's tired eyes.
Actually, he couldn't decide what the most surprising sight was. That Spike was there and hadn't tried to harm him yet. That Buffy was there, and looked nonplussed. Or that Darla was there. With Spike. And Buffy. All of them.
Then Darla stepped out into better light, smirking, "Hello, lover."
Okay, the fact that Darla was there, apparently pregnant was definitely the most shocking. Angel blinked. "Wh-how?"
Before Darla could make some inappropriate comment, which Angel, admittedly, had left himself wide open for, Spike piped in. "Who bloody knows. All sorts of mumbo-jumbo mystical bollocks. The usual, Peaches." At the twin glares he received, Spike shrugged, "Don't mind the Slayer and I, we're just here to make sure there's no bodily harm."
"And to get answers," Buffy cut in.
Angel could only nod stupidly. "Answers would be good." But one look at Darla, and he knew that she didn't have any.
With a deep sigh, Darla came towards Angel and away from the relative support that Spike offered. "This baby, Angel, is going to be the one good thing we've done together." She smirked, "It's human and it's ours, and that's as much as fifteen shamans and some African demon have been able to tell me."
And Angel wasn't really sure what kind of response he was expected to have, but he was sure that - if it could beat - his heart would have stopped. "Darla-"
He reached his arms out, and she gratefully collapsed into them - the toll of the pregnancy and hormones and emotions winning out over her normally calm demeanor. When Angel looked up over the top of Darla's head, Buffy and Spike were gone - there were no answers to be found here today.
Feeling the swollen body against him, the smell that was undeniably Darla, the rush of a heartbeat that shouldn't be there, Angel was overwhelmed, kissing the top of Darla's head without thinking of it. "Shh, Darlin', we'll figure this out together."
It wasn't a declaration of love, but neither had been expecting such. It was the best Angel could offer, that he wanted this child, theirs, to be their one good thing. Maybe their opportunity for atonement. They still had a couple of months to figure it out, anyway.
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