Slayers and Witches and Vampires, Oh My! Part Seven By Tango RATING: Definitely NC-17 DEDICATION: For TrinityLast. Merry Christmas. (Note: Delivered on time. *G*) and for Peygan, who has been asking about this one for a long time. *G* AN: As I finished writing this, it occurred to me that my idea for the mirror probably was inspired from Harpy's breast scene in her fic. Not sure which one - either "Buffy's Diary" or "Letters to Whistler." Been a while since I read them. (If you haven't read them, don't deny yourself some of the best B/A fic in existence and head over to her site: http://harpy.bitchenvy.com/) *** when
will you wake up Kate was dragging out her explanation of what she needed help with and after thirty minutes in his office, Angel realized she didn't need his help at all. She just wanted it. He felt his irritation rising as he thought about his beautiful, pregnant wife upstairs doing...whatever it was that she was doing when he should be up there in her arms. He carefully gave Kate an explanation of how terribly busy he was and shooed her off before swiftly making his way upstairs and to his bedroom where he found what his wife was doing was sleeping. He smiled down at her thinking about how her moods changed so quickly. An hour ago she was knocking doors off their hinges and preparing to go out to fight the demons and darkness of the world and now she was napping peacefully in their big bed. He peeled back the covers and delighted at the sight of her naked body, even though he already knew she wouldn't be wearing clothes. In the last couple of weeks, she had started shedding her clothes whenever she could, complaining that she couldn't stand for them to touch her skin. Angel shed his own, thankful she had yet to turn away or dislike him against her skin. He climbed in bed, wrapping himself around her body and she scooted back against his chest, murmuring in her sleep. "Angel," she purred softly as one of his large hands moved over her body, caressing her legs and belly, gliding over her face, neck and breasts. "Wake up, baby," he whispered, kissing her shoulder and then continuing a trail of wet kisses over her arm, before lifting her hand to his lips and kissing each little digit. "‘m..wake..." she mumbled, sleepily, snuggling in against him, "Waiting for you." "Sorry it took me so long," he said, moving back to her neck once more. He suckled on her scar happily, feeling at if just the taste of that patch of raised skin fed him. "Done with beautiful and skinny down there?" Buffy asked snarkily, "How many times did she try to sleep with you?" "It was a battle," he answered, laughing at her despite his attempts not to, "But somehow I made it back to you." "Don't like her," Buffy huffed, "Little perfect waistline in here trying to steal my demon. She's a homewrecker!" "Love," Angel said, keeping his slow, easy trail over her skin with his hands as he turned her over onto her back and crouched over her, kissing her thoroughly before he finished speaking, "the only way to be a homewrecker, is to actually wreck a home and since I'm not going anywhere..." Instead of finishing the sentence, he kissed her again, dipping his tongue into the warmth of her mouth, lowering himself just enough from his crouched position to rub his flat, muscled stomach against her distended one. "Did you really mean it when you said she wasn't beautiful?" Buffy asked in a tiny, childlike voice as he moved down her chest to suckle gently on her sensitive breasts. "Mmmhmmm," he answered as he moved from one breast to the other, carefully laving them, knowing that if he was too rough with that delicate, swollen part of her body she would toss him across the room, literally. He learned quickly after the first time that happened. "Angel look at me," she demanded, tugging on him until he raised his head to meet her eyes. His were flashing golden in desire for her and he moved forward enough to make sure she felt his throbbing arousal against her. "When I dream about making love to someone," Angel said firmly, "I dream of you. I don't understand what this obsession is with other women for you." The uncertainty on her face forced him to growl lightly and get off the bed. He held out his hand to her and helped her up as well. He hated the idea that his mate would ever feel inferior to any other woman for any reason. Buffy wasn't sure what he had planned but stood up and held his hand as he guided her from their bedroom through the adjoining doors to the next room where she kept a full length mirror that he usually avoided at all costs. He hated not seeing his own reflection and being reminded of what he was, but this was much more important. He placed her in front of the mirror and stood behind her, knowing all she could see was herself and knowing his little, insecure Slayer saw all of her imagined imperfections as well. "What do you see?" he asked. She saw her hair stir from his unneeded breath and thought he did it on purpose to remind one of them of his presence, maybe both. "Big, fat belly with stretch marks," she said, "Swollen breasts and swollen everything else." "Look again," he said, sliding his hands over her belly. Tears formed in her eyes as she struggled to look closer for him. "Blonde hair," she said, to which answered, "Yes, shining, soft blonde hair that feels like silk and smells like vanilla." "Green eyes," she added, and he replied, "Windows to your beautiful soul, love. So bright and full of truth and emotion that they caught me the first time I saw them." "Arms," she said, beginning to warm from his words. He whispered again, running his fingers down them, "Strong arms, with strong hands. Both so tiny that it used to be difficult for me to remember that they saved the world." "And we're back to the big, fat belly," she moaned. Shushing her, he spoke again, "Which is an adorable, round womb, filled with my growing child, who will be a miracle. And these..." he said, tracing the barely visible stretch marks lining her waist, "...should be worn like a badge of courage." Emphasizing his point, he circled her and lowered himself to his knees, kissing along those lines she found so abhorrent. He smiled as he kissed along them, "What's more beautiful than this?" He glanced up at her, hoping his words had soothed her only to find tears running down her cheeks. She was looking in the mirror and then down at him and then at her reflection once more. "I don't see it," she whispered, "I love being pregnant with our child, Angel, but I don't see it." "I do," he said, rising back to his feet, "And-" He groaned in frustration as the separate line in their bedroom began ringing. He didn't want to answer it, not when his cock was standing painfully erect and his perfect naked wife needed to made love to. "He-" he started, before being interrupted again, this time by a voice. "Learn how to return a phone call, mate," Spike growled, from his apartment, trying desperately to ignore the wandering hands of Faith who had just finished removing her clothes. He told her he might need to go, but she was determined to make sure he came instead. He was already brassed off that he had waited so long for her to get there while she was out staking his brethren in an alley somewhere. "What are you talking about?" Angel answered tiredly, "I didn't get a message." "Too busy climbing on your wife to ask her if she answered the phone?" Spike growled and then sighed, "Look, Peaches, been scrambling around in the dark and dank for you and the bint, the least you two could do was check in now and again." "Got a point? Is something wrong?" Angel growled back, startling Buffy, whose face immediately changed to concern as Angel grabbed her hand protectively. "Yes, dammit!" Spike shouted, mostly because Faith was nibbling on his neck and if he didn't get out the sentence he had prepared he was going to lose it - much like he was losing his pants as she tugged on his top button, "Look, that soddin' FBI wanker has been collecting information and looks like he found out a bit more about the power your little hell's spawn is gonna have when it pops out. He's been collecting demons for questioning and now it looks like he's going to try and collect the missus next." "What?" Angel roared, flying into full game face. His roar echoed through the entire hotel and if he had been paying attention to anything accept for his own anger and the sound of Spike's voice, he would have heard the pounding of feet coming toward his bedroom. Buffy went to put on her robe and then retrieved Angel's before someone broke down the door in worry. "He's sending troops out, not sure when, but their objective is to capture the Slayer and keep her until the nibblet arrives," Spike explained loudly over the sound of Faith's lips smacking against his skin and Angel's deafening roar over the phone line. "You and Faith get over here," Angel ordered. "Faith's not-" "I can hear her fucking breathing," Angel countered, "Now it's work time. Tell her to get dressed and get home! And you had better be with her when she gets here!" Gunn, Cordy, Willow and Tara all ran full steam into the bedroom after Buffy forced Angel to put on his robe and she opened the door to the troops. Angel had slammed down the phone and was growling loudly as he contemplated what he had just been informed. "Angel, what is it?" Buffy said, and then repeated it until she gripped his arms in her tiny hands and shook him roughly. "They're coming for you," Angel answered around his fangs, "That FBI fuck, Wilder, is sending them to capture you so they can take our baby!" "Okay," she said, caressing his ridged face gently, "It's alright. No one is taking me. We'll just call everyone and tell them to come. We'll keep shifts and I'll teach everyone what they need to know about FBI tactics. It'll be okay." "No," he said shaking his head angrily, and then taking a deep, unnecessary breath to calm himself down. With his game face still intact, he cupped her face, "You're not safe here. This is too big of a place and we can't see them coming. Spike and Faith are on their way back. When they get here, we're going to discuss a plan." *** devils
with halos A half hour later, the group convened in the lobby. Spike and Faith had just made it in the door looking sated and flushed, Xander, Anya, Wesley and Giles at all arrived, as well as five members of Gunn's gang. Angel waited until he had everyone's attention before he started speaking, wishing he could pace as he spoke, but was unwilling to leave Buffy's side for a second, even if it meant moving a few feet away. When everyone was silenced, he launched into a renewed explanation of Spike's call, with some colorful added in comments by his grande childe, explaining Agent Wilder's plans for taking Buffy. "The hotel isn't secure," Angel said, "There's a thousand ways to get in and out of here, so we're moving until the baby is born. I need everyone on board here." "Where do you think we're going to go?" Cordelia asked with images of sewers and dark, horrible places dancing in her head. "We're going to Buffy's old house in Sunnydale." Angel answered, waiting for the onslaught of arguments. "You think we're going to be safer on the Hellmouth?" Xander blurted, rolling his eyes, "Dead Boy has lost all of his marbles this time. And I can't go. I have an organization to run." "You're coming," Angel demanded in unison with Cordelia's question, "What organization?" "Way to go," Xander complained, shaking his head angrily at Angel. "You're the one who put that out Mr. Covert," Angel growled and then turned to the blonde, quiet witch holding Willow's hand, "Tara, do you have any vacation time? We're really going to need you with us." "Two weeks," Tara offered weakly, "Well, I had two weeks until I took off a bunch of days to help you guys out. I might have a week and a half left." "Damn," Angel said, looking down at his hand clasped with Buffy's. "Will you please come with us? We can't do this without you and Willow both on board." "Sure," Tara said, smiling, "It's not like I'll be out on the street if I can't work anyway." "I didn't know you still owned that house, Buffy," Giles said, raising at eyebrow at his charge. "Well, we need it from time to time when there's something going on, so we kept it," she answered and then turned to Angel, "Honey, I don't understand how you think the Hellmouth is good idea. It's not the most anti-demony place in the world." "Precisely," Giles said, smiling as the realization hit him, "Sunnydale is unknown territory for these men and it's filled with demons who would most likely be hireable to help." "Ooh, and the magick there is so much more powerful!" Willow chipped in, "Our spells are always three times stronger when we're there." "Yeah," Angel said, "We are leaving in three hours. Everyone pack and be back here at 3 AM. That should allow us to make it before dawn."
Slayers
and Witches and Vampires, Oh My! By Tango FEEDBACK: Please! LYRICS: All lyrics are from Tori Amos RATING: Definitely NC-17 AN: It's been a while since I've added to this fic, but thank you to everyone who has asked about it lately! If you need a refresher on the previous chapters, you can find them here: http://www.sunflower.com/~tango/slayers.html Happy belated birthday, Ave! *** we'll
see how brave you are The gang had been living in the old house in Sunnydale on Revello Drive and rather peacefully for the last couple of months. It seemed that Angel's rampage in LA had been made known all the way to the Hellmouth. No demons had tried to break in the door, no one was lurking in the shadows and the patrols performed by odd members of the group, which excluded Buffy, were nearly fruitless. The quiet was almost eerie. The FBI hadn't yet found them or if they had, they hadn't been sighted and no one had been approached. It was, of course, the perfect time for all hell to break loose. Xander was running his operation from the house, taking calls and having them patched via his stern covert secretary. Cordy couldn't seem to get over the fact that Xander could run a organization of Smith's size and strength. In the beginning, she insulted his abilities at every turn until Anya heard them. The two women nearly came to fisticuffs. Strangely, after a couple of days, they found they had quite a bit in common and had taken to spending much of their days together talking about fashion and money. Buffy had been complaining so much of cabin fever and of a strange sense of restlessness that Angel had started taking her for walks at sundown and had given Willow, Xander & Tara permission to take her out during the day as well. His only stipulation was that she be accompanied at all times by a Slayer or witch if he could not be with her. The fact that she needed permission to leave the house in the first place was cause for several loud and growly conversations. In the end, Angel got his way, as seemed to be the rule when it came to the unborn Summers child. After dinner on June 20th, seven months into Buffy's pregnancy, she and Angel were lounging in bed together happily spending some alone time away from the group before Angel left for patrol later in the evening. They had started a tradition lately of Angel reading to her in the evenings while she laid her head on his chest and listened to the vibration of his voice through his body. The soothing sound of his low voice helped her to relax and eased away her rather strange restlessness as of late. Since Buffy's pregnancy began, her attraction to her mate had grown stronger and stronger, as had their connection to each other. They always had a bond to each other, a link where they felt only the strongest emotions, such as anger, pain and sorrow, and they could sense the closeness of their other half, but the more pregnant she became, the more these sense progressed to the point of an almost direct empathic connection. "You're uncomfortable," he murmured, kissing the top of her head and rubbing her back in slow circles as he put the book aside. "What can I do to make you feel better, love?" "Trying to get brownie points?" she murmured, smiling. The truth was, she was incredibly uncomfortable. It seemed as if she couldn't get in any position whatsoever without moving seconds later. Angel did have the upper hand by being able to sense her emotions more and more as of late, but the fact that she wiggled around every few seconds definitely gave it away. She couldn't believe she was still only in her seventh month as it was and she was miserable. "Yes," he said wryly, "I'm getting brownie points so I can have my wicked way with you." "Mmmm..." she said snuggling closer, "Maybe you'll get-" She stopped in mid-sentence and gasped. Her strong fingers tightened on Angel's arm and they both cried out in pain at the same time. Angel didn't seem to notice that he didn't actually need air as he gasped for pain in short, staccato breaths. For a vampire who had a very high threshold of pain, he didn't take well to the amplified sensations coming from his mate. Trying to keep from doubling over in agony, he stood and lifted her into her arms, where she promptly began to wiggle and writhe in an attempt to escape. "No!" she shouted, pushing away from him, "I'm not ready and you can't take me. It's not time yet." "The hell it isn't," Angel said, glowering down at her and holding her as tightly as he could without harming her. "We're going to the hospital, Buffy, right now." "Braxton Hicks," she announced in a winced, matter of fact voice and pushed lamely at him again. "Now put me down." "We're in labor," Angel growled, striding toward the door. She fumed at him and continued to struggle to escape, but the effort was useless. He held onto her tightly and continued out of their bedroom and down the stairs. Unfortunately, Buffy couldn't fool Angel with the idea of false labor or any other excuse she could think of because he had spent the last seven months reading every book available on human pregnancy. He knew the procedures, the risks, what to expect and how things were done. He also knew that this child was not going to be an ordinary one and what he couldn't read about in any book ever published was what was making him panic. *** oh
i still love you, baby Buffy couldn't help but notice that Angel's eyes were fully golden by the time they reached the hospital. The contractions, which she was certain were not Braxton Hicks, were six minutes apart. When her water broke on the drive to the hospital, soaking the car seats and floor boards in Angel's car, they knew this was no false labor. "Premature," she murmured with her head pressed against the cool glass window of Angel's car. She glanced over at her demonic husband and shuddered. His eyes were not only golden but glowing with the force of his emotions, something not likely to be overlooked by the hospital staff. His hands clutched the steering wheel with such force that she was certain it would break any second. "This is no ordinary baby," he answered back softly, prying one of his hands from the steering wheel to caress her fingers which were balled into tight fists. "Our child will be strong. You'll see." Buffy nodded in agreement and blinked to keep from crying. She had to be strong of mind as well as strong of body. She was certain that having faith in her child and her doctor would make things better, but a nagging sense of fear was creeping into her. What if the baby wasn't okay? Surely all the prophecies on The Destroyer that Giles had gathered and had yet to share with her wouldn't exist if the baby was going to die, but prophecies were tricky things. *** you
don't want to lose her "Explain premature births," Angel demanded of the doctor once they were in their room and forced to wait until he gifted them with his presence. Somehow the reasoning that there was a hospital full of people that needed his attention, not to mention four other births going on did not ease Angel's understanding of the physician's slow appearance. Once he had examined her, Dr. Garrison shifted uneasily while trying to look at Buffy rather than her husband. The supernatural glow to his eyes and the inhuman, animalistic growl to his voice made the doctor wonder just what was going to come out of that woman. Fifteen years of caring for patients on the Hellmouth had given him an higher understanding of things that go bump in the night and things that were born from things that go bump in the night. "Since you're only at 28 weeks, Mrs. Summers, your child will be premature. Most premies born after 24 weeks are strong enough to survive," he answered, clearing his throat, "Like most cases, the cause for the premature birth is unknown. Your amniotic fluid is at a safe level, there are no infections, you do not have diabetes, high blood pressure or preeclampsia. Maternal smoking or use of illicit drugs is sometimes the reas-" "That's not the reason," Angel growled in warning. Buffy clamped her hand so tightly in his to quiet him that he had to keep himself from yelping in pain. Dr. Garrison, however, was relieved when Angel turned his gaze irritably to his wife. "Be nice," she warned and turned back to the doctor, "We've had all positive exams while we were still in Los Angeles, as well as the ones we had with you. I was under the impression that everything was fine." "You're correct, Mrs. Summers," Dr. Garrison admitted, "Although problems with the fetus can sometimes cause early delivery, such as infections, poor growth or certain birth defects, the examination looks fine, so frankly, I believe there is a great chance that your child will have few negative reactions to coming into the world early." "Few," Angel growled, pulling his hand from Buffy's, standing and crossing the room to get to the doctor in a speed that was not at all human. "I know the current success stories of premature children and of women living through the birthing process these days," Angel growled out, "I know logically that my wife and child could both come out of this alive and healthy. If, for some reason they do not. I'll strangle you with your own intestines. Do you understand?" "Y-yes sir." *** i
watch me be this other thing and never know Preternatural strength did absolutely nothing for The Slayer during the birthing process. If you asked Angel, who felt empathically every twinge, push and throb, he would have told you that it felt like being impaled repeatedly with a rusty fence post, which he knew from experience. The unfortunate problem with both parents being supernatural was that the baby was supernatural as well and every movement of its strong little limbs felt like it was trying to fight its way free from the womb. The nurses happily fawned over Angel who was obviously having sympathy pains for his wife. He had managed to turn his eyes back to their natural chocolate brown even after Buffy's steel grip snapped all four fingers on his right hand. Strangely, if she felt his pain, she didn't acknowledge it. Instead, she cursed him for getting her there to begin with. "I love you, Buffy," Angel crooned, desperately trying to ignore his own pain while he saw to her comfort. "You're doing fine. Almost there, love." "Well, I hate you!" Buffy panted as she pushed once more. "‘I can never give you children, Buffy,'" she mocked, "Whatfuckingever!" "Come on, baby," he said through gritted teeth, kissing her brow, "Just a few more pushes and it'll be over. Just a little more." "Get away from me!" she raged incoherently. She pulled her hand from his broken fingers and turned her head away. "This is all your fault, Angel!" Angel, who had not been informed of women's reactions to the birthing process, stood on shaking legs and stepped away. He had no intentions of leaving the room, but was genuinely hurt by her harsh words. In his time, men weren't allowed in the same room during the labor and had no desire to be. Now he understood why. Never had she spoken such hurtful words to him and he wondered if she meant it when she told him how she wanted him by her side when she gave birth to their miracle child. Now he wasn't so sure. As another contraction came on, Buffy looked wildly around the room. "Angel!" she shouted. He had moved out of her sight in the corner of the room and she mistakenly thought he left. Great sobs formed in her throat as she realized he had abandoned her. "I'm here," he said, moving tentatively into her line of sight. She held out her arms to him and he moved closer. "Don'tleaveme," she babbled, "IloveyouI'msosorry." "The baby's crowning," the doctor announced, "Give me a big push, Mrs. Summers." *** blood can be pretty Alannah Angelus Summers was born at 1:35 AM on June 21, 2003. When asked if he would like to cut the umbilical cord, Angleus, the Scourge of Europe, who had seen more gore than most creatures would see in their whole unlives, after seeing his daughter for the first time, took one look at the after effects of the birthing process between his mate's thighs and fell into a dead faint. As soon as Buffy and the new baby were cleaned up and Angel had risen from his place in the middle of the floor, the door was opened and the happy parents were surrounded by their friends, who made up their misfit sort of family. They beamed proudly as everyone praised them on the beauty of the newest addition to the Scooby core. Her head was already covered with dark brown fuzz the color of Angel's hair and although they didn't know what color her eyes were yet, Buffy was convinced they'd be his chocolate brown. Just like any parent, she knew her child was perfect. The doctor, however, was baffled. At 28 weeks, little Alannah was not underweight, her lungs were healthy, so she had no need of being placed on a ventilator and her heartbeat was strong. In fact, she was by far the healthiest premature birth he had ever come across. If he hadn't treated the Summers child himself, he would not have guessed she was premature at all. "Thank you," Angel said to the doctor graciously. He had left everyone to adore his child and sought out the doctor on his way to another birth. "You did an excellent job." "You're welcome," the doctor answered, blinking in obvious shock. He never expected such grateful kindness to come out of the man who had been growling like a rapid beast not an hour before. "And I was wondering," Angel said quietly, extending his right hand for the doctor's inspection, "If you would mind setting my fingers." The doctor pivoted and motioned for Angel to follow him into a room down the hall. He was glad that Angel made no move to catch up with him but followed behind, because Dr. Garrison was struggling to keep himself from riotous laughter. As much as a bastard as he had been to him, Garrison thought it extremely funny that Angel's little blonde wife that crushed his hand. After the X-rays, he was pleased and surprised to find that each of Angel's fingers were fractured in two places. Only his thumb got out of the birth unscathed. As hard as Garrison tried to feel remorseful for his glee for Angel's injury, he couldn't seem to conjure up the emotion. He whistled his way around the hospital for the rest of his shift. *** friend "Ooh, she's so little!" Willow fawned, lightly touching the hair on Alannah's head, "And oh! Teensy fingers!" "She is all wrinkly," Anya said, cocking her head as she stared at the baby, "I think she resembles an old person. Do you think it's because she's part demon." "An," Xander said, grabbing her hand and explaining carefully, "That's what new human babies look like." "How unfortunate," Anya said, wrinkling her nose, "I don't think I'll be having any of your children, Xander. I mean, look how handsome Angel is and yet his child is-" "Anya!" Willow admonished. "She's perfect." "She is a beautiful child, Buffy," Giles agreed, proudly bearing the look of a new grandfather. "Well, I'm with Anya," Cordelia agreed, "All babies do is cry, poop and sleep, but everyone acts like they're special if they smile or something. They all look like little prunes." "Perhaps," Giles said, clearing his throat to hide his smile of amusement, "you two could go home and make sure the house is prepared for the baby's home coming." "Like what?" Cordelia asked, crossing her arms over her chest and obviously not getting the hint, "The superbeings over there bought every diaper in Sunnydale and the witches brought home every damn little kid toy they have around here. What are we supposed to do?" "They're trying to get rid of us," Anya announced to her new friend and then leaned in conspiratorially,"I'm glad I'm not the only one who does not understand these strange human customs." TBC... Home - Navigation - Affiliates - Random - Fanfiction - Links - Updates - About
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