Chapter Nine

WHAT'S HAPPENED SO FAR: (ooh, can this be a Giles voice-over?) ... Buffy and Spike, after getting married to save the world, go on their honeymoon in the Plaza hotel in NYC. The sparks fly between them, and they start to fall for each other, but then Drusilla enters the mix one night in Central Park. The next afternoon Spike wakes up by himself, and finds a note from his loony ex saying that she had kidnapped his new wife. Spike rescues Buffy, but not before Drusilla has thoroughly tortured the weakened Slayer, carving a prophecy into her back. The newly wedded couple dukes it out verbally, but then Spike deciphers the now scarred prophecy, stating that Buffy is pregnant and the world is going to end. They go home from their honeymoon, dropping their bombshells on the Scoobies, as well as Joyce and Buffy's newly acquired sister Dawn. Meanwhile, in Los Angeles, Angel does the nasty with his Sire, then kicks her out of his hotel.

WARNING: THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS A M/M RAPE SCENE.

A dark-haired man lay sleeping on his stomach in a darkened, well-decorated bedroom. The well-toned muscles in his broad back rippled
almost imperceptibly as he moved subtly in his slumber. His body was sprawled out, one hand gripping the edge of the bed, the other down by his side. The man rolled over onto his side, one hand coming to rest on his flat stomach as he shifted his legs.

The telephone rang, disturbing his slumber. He flopped over on his back, running a large hand through his mussed hair and sat up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes with the other. He moved to the edge of the bed, the dark-colored sheets bunching about his waist as he picked up the reciever and groggily answered.

"Hello?" he grunted.

There was a pause on the other end. A few seconds passed before he recieved an answer. "A-Angel?"

Angel immediately perked up at the voice of his one true love. "Buffy. What is it?" He glanced at the clock with its glowing numbers that sat
next to the phone and groaned inwardly.

"Have you seen Darla lately?" The question was tentative, almost as if she didn't want to hear the answer.

Images flashed in his mind. Darla, writhing beneath him as he marred her silky white skin with his fangs, Darla screaming in release as he
thrust into her violently, suckling a nipple... Darla, hurt barely masked in her eyes as he kicked her out of his home, out of his life. "Yeah," he said after awhile. "Why?"

"Do you know where she is now?" Buffy asked.

A beat. Two. "No, why?"

"Fuck. Angel, Spike and I are coming to Los Angeles tonight. There's something you need to know, and I don't feel right telling you this over the phone. Can you have a room ready for us?"

"Yeah," he said slowly, grogginess settling back in. "See you tonight."

He hung up the telephone and fell back onto his bed. "Huh," he said to the empty room. "Wonder what that was about?"

Spike wedged his black duffel bag into the trunk of the DeSoto with some difficulty. "Bloody hell, Slayer, did you have to bring fifteen bags? We're only visiting Peaches for a little while."

Buffy grinned impishly. "I like to have options," she said as she climbed into the passenger seat of the car. "Bye, mom! Bye Dawnie!" she called out the window, waving at her mother and sister.

The first part of the ride was made in relative silence. Buffy fingered her wedding band as Spike drove, the radio playing softly. "Spike?" she asked suddenly in the quiet.

"Mm," he grunted in reply. "What is it, pet?"

"Are you happy? I mean, about us? We always hated each other before, and now we're married--"

Spike interjected. "Of course I'm happy, luv. I've never been this bloody happy in all of my existence. 'Sfunny, though... we were prophesized
to be together. You'd think we'd have figured it out before we did. Wasted a lot of time fightin'."

Buffy smiled. "I'm glad. I thought you would hate me even more for getting pregnant. I mean, hello, evil vampire, children don't usually fall into the mix."

"Buffy, if anything, I love you more for giving me the one thing that I never thought I could have. I don't think I could hate you right now if I tried."

Angel sat in the lobby of the Hyperion on one of the rounded couches, brooding as per usual. The doors of the hotel flew open and two powerful blondes breezed in.

"'Allo, Peaches," Spike greeted, draping his arm about Buffy's shoulders. He chuckled inwardly at the jealousy simmering in his grandsire's
eyes.

"Spike," he said, nodding. "Buffy," he smiled.

"Hi, Angel. Do you have somewhere we can go that's... private?" she asked, noting that Angel's co-workers were looking on in fascination.

The dark-haired vampire nodded and motioned for them to follow him into his private office. They sat down in the comfortable chairs there and sat in silence for a few moments. "So what's going on that you couldn't tell me over the phone?"

Buffy cleared her throat. "First off, I needed to tell you that Spike and I aren't getting an anullment."

"Oh."

Spike piped up. "Me an' the Slayer fell in love, mate, and I knew that I would need your blessing."

"I'll deal with you later. There's something else, isn't there?" Angel looked directly at Buffy and she squirmed beneath his gaze.

"Angel, I'm pregnant with Spike's baby." She watched his face warily, but his expression never changed.

"Vampires can't have children, Buffy."

Spike shook his head. "See, that's where you're wrong. Because not only did I father a child, but you did too--or you're gonna."

"What?" Angel asked, incredulous. He shot out of his chair, shaking his head. "That's not possible."

"'Svery possible, Peaches. Thing is, your kiddo and mine need to 'meet', whatever the bloody hell that means, or the world is gonna be gone." Spike waved his hand at this last word.

Angel remained silent.

"Angel, did you sleep with Darla? Please be honest." Buffy looked at him imploringly.

The older man's shoulders slumped and he sighed. "Yes. I fucked Darla."

Buffy's eyes widened. She had never heard Angel curse before. "Angel, she's the mother of your child."

Buffy had left for the beach with Cordelia. Angel had given everyone else the afternoon off. This left the two master vampires alone in the
large hotel. "Guess it's time to face the music, eh, mate?" Spike asked as he stripped off his shirt in one of the newly-emptied rooms of the Hyperion. All the furniture had been removed, so that projectile vampires wouldn't get accidentally staked. The window had been covered with
a layer of plywood and drywall, then painted so it matched the rest of the dark red walls.

Angel had followed his grandchilde into the room after removing his own shirt. "You stole my love from me, boy," he growled.

Spike laughed nervously. "I didn't steal anything," he countered. "She came willingly." He suddenly found himself on the floor, Angel looming over him. His left eye throbbed. He leapt to his feet, attacking Angel with a flurry of blows to the chest and abdomen.

Angel counter-attacked, backhanding the bleached-blond vampire across the room. He stalked over to him and picked him up by the back of
the neck, slamming his forehead into the wall. Mentally he reminded himself to repair the Spike's head sized dent in the wall later. Spike stood dazedly for a second before regaining his senses and attacking again. The vampires fought, a blur of fists and fangs. Blood dripped from deep scratches and bitemarks.

Angel finally got the upper hand. He pinned Spike to the floor and tore at the back of his jeans, rending the material and pulling them down to below Spike's knees. Spike squirmed desperately, trying to get away from the dominant vampire. He heard the sound of a zipper being
lowered, then Angel's large, cool hands were gripping his asscheeks, spreading them apart. He felt a hard prodding at his puckered opening,
and then his tender flesh tore as Angel thrust violently inside him.

He screamed.

A few times he passed out, his eyes rolling back in his head, only to come to and feel Angel still pistoning within his blood-lubricated channel. What seemed like hours later, Angel reared back and thrust into his broken, whimpering grandchilde once more, grinding his pelvis against Spike's bruised buttocks and nearly forcing his balls within the whimpering man beneath him. He pulled Spike to his knees and sank his fangs mercilessly into his throat, drinking Spike's cool, borrowed blood as he exploded within him. He dropped Spike back to the floor and yanked his softening cock out of the shaking blonde, wiping it on Spike's jeans before tucking it back into his pants and standing.

As soon as he heard the latch click, Spike began to weep. He lay on his stomach in a pool of his blood and his grandsire's ejaculate, naked and battered, his entire body aching. When he realized that he would have to explain to Buffy why he could'nt sit down, he laughed bitterly, a
barking sob-like noise that echoed in the empty room. A few minutes later he stood, blood and cum gushing from his torn passage. He walked gingerly to his own room and stepped into the shower, washing the reminders of Angel's dominance from his sallow skin. His grandsire had
never been this violent with him, not even before the curse. His blood tears mingled with the hot water coursing down on him.

Spike stepped from the shower and toweled himself off, hissing when the terry-cloth rubbed against the larger of his wounds. He noticed three bags of blood sitting on a small table next to the queen-sized bed as he walked out of the shower, demon-face still on. He tore into the plastic packets and drained them quickly, then passed out on the bed, nude, on his stomach.

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