Ariana Amira Kali, daughter of Angelus and Buffy of
Aurelius, Princess of the Kingdom Aurelius and twenty-seventh in line for the
Land of the Elves, was not happy.
Her power surrounded her and, as such, her parents and she
let them know that. Storms raged across the Lands, and wherever Angelus
currently was, with a frequency that no one could ignore. She wanted…she
needed…but it wasn’t there. He father often visited her in dreams,
subliminal as that was, and her mother was a constant soothing presence, but
there was something missing.
No matter how her child’s mind tried to probe the outside
world, there was always something stopping her. No harmful magicks surrounded
her, only light and love and pureness and yet it was not enough. The Birthing
Ritual was successful but it still lacked something.
Ariana Amira Kali, however, wasn’t yet born so could not tell anyone what it lacked.
During the ninth month of Buffy’s pregnancy, Oz and Gunn
stepped up the search for Angelus, not caring what their Queen wanted. She was
in near constant pain and no one, not the Elf or Vampire Priestesses, not the
Seers, not Tara nor Rupert, knew what to do for her. Elves rarely experienced
pain until the moments of birth and yet, that’s all Buffy seemed to
experience.
Figuring it couldn’t hurt if Angelus was there, even if
he could do nothing for his wife, Gunn authorized a select few to find him. The
First didn’t tell them what happened to their Ancient, only reiterated what
Buffy said months ago about harmful magicks infecting him. The elite guard
understood, didn’t ask questions, and left immediately.
Loyalty was a wonderful thing and Gunn couldn’t help but
appreciate it as he returned to report the latest to Oz.
The elfin First hadn’t left his mistress’ side since
the pains started, slept only fitfully when she did, and woke the instant Buffy
screamed in agony. Since the incident with Clara years ago, Oz never met
socially with anyone outside their inner group. He was paranoid to the point of
a recluse, even as he insisted he was only looking out for Buffy.
Gunn was worried about him. Would have said something to his friend had he, himself, not done the same thing. There were no social visits, no parties, no outside hunting, and nothing remotely considered play. Shaking his head at the sadness that were both Firsts, Gunn returned to Buffy’s rooms, stopping only to tell Cook to bring food for both he and Oz.
And maybe a nice bottle of alcohol.
~~~~~~~~~~
Buffy cried out for her lost husband.
As her pregnancy progressed, he came to her less and less,
gradually decreasing the openness of their bond until there was little left of
the once vibrant light. Angry, hurt, Buffy retaliated by closing her end of the
bond, too. Her reasoning was illogical and wounded, unbearably, but the way
Buffy saw it, Angelus denied her his child, accused her of infidelity, and
abandoned her completely.
She was not about to let him have any part of either her
life or their daughter’s life if he couldn’t return to them as he should.
“Angelus!” Buffy cried out again, her body contorting
in pain.
Maybe, a small part of her thought, maybe they shouldn’t
have drank from each other over the years, maybe now, had they not, she
wouldn’t crave him as much as she did, need him to soothe this pain, this
agony. And still, a part of her struggled to connect with him, desperately in
need of his presence.
~~~~~~~~~~
Warily eyeing the brunette vampiress, Rupert nonetheless
listened to what she said.
Except she wasn’t saying much of anything that made
sense.
“It’s in the blood,” Drusilla repeated, a dreamy
smile on her face as she draped herself across the table.
Frowning harder, Rupert watched the crazed childe of his
daughter’s husband lounge across his eating table. It was, single-handedly,
the most bizarre thing he’d seen in a good long while. Considering he knew the
Ancient before the one Angelus overthrew, the original Aurelius, that was saying
something.
“What blood?” Rupert asked, then, slower as the words
she spoke made an odd kind of sense, “Or whose blood?”
Dru giggled, looking up at the elf from her position on the
table. Pretty lights danced around the elf, fury and concern, strong magicks,
but not nearly as strong as his now pregnant daughter’s were.
“His blood,” Dru purred and stood gracefully from the
table, moving as though floating the short distance that separated she and
Rupert. “His blood is in her, it’s a part of her, mates, eternals, he needs
her, but she needs him more.”
Blinking for an absurdly long moment as everything the
vampiress said suddenly made sense Rupert cursed his own stupidity. How blind
was he?
Turning on his heel and stalking out of the room, he missed
Dru’s laughter as she cooed to the ceiling. “Angelus, she needs you. But
someone else will have to do.”
Rupert wasted no time rounding up Tara and William. To the
latter, he asked one simple question. “Are Drusilla’s visions
trustworthy?” At the affirmative answer, he all but dragged Tara into
Buffy’s private chambers as he ordered William to bring Drusilla to Buffy.
Gunn was on guard, Oz having left not ten minutes ago to
shower, change, and bring up their food. When the vampire First opened the door
to admit his queen’s father, he followed them in. If it concerned his queen,
it concerned him as well.
Noting the paleness of Buffy’s normally dark skin, the
drawn features, pinched in pain, and the overall air of sadness around her
Rupert gathered his only daughter in his arms. Gently kissing her forehead, he
brushed her long, long hair out of her face and got right to the point.
“Buffy, child, you need the blood of the baby’s father.”
“Angelus?” Buffy said his name and immediately her
gryphon squawked at Rupert and flew to the bed, propping his chin on Buffy’s
hip. The bed sagged a little under the great animal’s weight, but he didn’t
exert enough pressure on Buffy’s hip to harm her in any way.
“Yes, this child is half vampire,” Rupert explained to
both his daughter and the small audience, eyeing the large gryphon warily.
“She needs blood to survive, my daughter.”
Buffy merely nodded, saying nothing more as her body shook again with slight spasms. She’d figured as much, knowing that once the pains started and she began craving blood, that it was her child’s way of asserting her vampire heritage. Then the dreams began and Buffy thought she’d go insane from them.
They were about Angelus, about his blood. She dreamt of the times she shared his
blood, of the times he drank from her as they orgasmed in each other’s arms.
Of their wedding day, and how that first taste of him felt on her lips and
tongue as the sweet nectar slid down her throat and spread through her body.
She’d often cry out his name during those dreams and was eternally grateful to
Oz for his stoic silences and mere presence during the nights.
Regular vampire foods didn’t work, and Buffy’s body
instantly rejected the small portions she tried to consume. Buffy knew it was
both because she had tasted Angelus’ blood on more than one occasion and
because this child was half vampire that she needed her husband’s blood,
specifically, but she refused to tell him that during their bond-time.
And that was before she closed the bond, now, now that they were both doing their best to ignore their connection, it was worse.
If he was not going to come back because she loved him and
needed him beside her, if he wasn’t going to return to rule his kingdom, to
raise their daughter, then she sure as Hades wasn’t going to force him to do
so because she needed his blood for she and her child to survive.
It was a pride thing. It might get her killed, but Buffy
wasn’t about to back down. Okay, it was a stupid
pride thing, but she still wasn’t going to back down.
Still holding his only daughter, Rupert turned to Gunn as
the First stood resolutely by the door. The vampire’s face gave nothing away
but the elf king asked anyway, “Have you been able to locate Angelus?”
Face still betraying nothing at the question, Gunn simply
said, “No.”
Rupert nodded, turning back to Buffy. “Daughter, we must
find Angelus, have you been able to contact him through your bond?”
Never having been bonded himself, and more than glad of
that, Rupert was unaware how closely linked Buffy was with her husband. He
distantly heard Oz enter the room and say something to Gunn about the guards at
the door, but focused on Buffy. She needed her husband, worthless though Rupert
now believed him to be, and soon.
Drawing on all her strength, Buffy struggled to sit
straight, without the aid of her father. She was queen and even this weakness
was too much. Ade-Aman shifted next to her, his feathers ruffling and beak
snapping as she tried to situate herself. “There’s another way,” she said
instead to the gathered group, one hand soothing the gryphon the other
protectively covering the mound of her child. “Find it.”
She could tell her father wanted to protest or, at the very
least, demand to know what was going on, but Rupert wisely kept quiet. William
nodded, as did Tara, Gunn, and Oz; they’d find that way, no matter what it
took. Drusilla floated – Rupert was positive she had feet, though she moved
like she danced on air – to Buffy’s side, taking Buffy’s hand in hers.
“Eternal of my sire,” she said and tilted her neck to
the side, in both a show of submission and a gift. “As eldest childe, I offer
myself.”
For a split second silence reigned in the room and then
Buffy, against the protest she could see in both Rupert and Tara’s eyes,
leaned forward, drawing Drusilla close to her on the bed. For a long moment, the
queen looked into her husband’s childe’s eyes, wondering at what went on
there. Drusilla knew things, that Buffy understood, but just how deep did her
understanding go?
“Thank you, Drusilla,” Buffy whispered and clamped her
blunt teeth on Dru’s neck, breaking the soft pale skin.
The effect of diluted Angelus’ blood was instantaneous.
Buffy swallowed only a few mouthfuls before falling back onto the bed, asleep.
Her body hummed, charging the air with a kind of aroused magick. Her color
instantly returned to normal, a healthy bronze that glowed with an otherworldly
radiance that surprised even Drusilla. Yet Buffy spoke not a word.
Ade-Aman squawked again, startling everyone out of their
trance and hopped onto Buffy’s leg, glaring at both vampire and elf alike.
Though the gryphon didn’t speak, the message was clear enough and they filed
out, Oz returning to his position at Buffy’s door and Gunn waiting to speak
with the elfin First privately about security matters.
For three days Buffy slept, her gryphon standing guard over
her from inside and her Firsts from outside the rooms. Theophilus kept the
council calmed, but word of the queen’s condition spread nonetheless. It was
just as the elder council members decided to hold a vote, ceding Buffy’s
powers – temporarily of course – to them that she awoke.
And asked for Darla.
“Maybe some of Dru’s craziness…transferred to the
Queen?” Gunn whispered to Oz, though William was right there and heard, too.
He suppressed a snort of laughter, as did Oz, but neither contradicted Gunn’s
statement.
Buffy heard them, but ignored the comment. While she’d
been sleeping, the first decent sleep she’d had in ages, Buffy understood that
if she couldn’t have Angelus, then she needed something…someone else.
Drusilla’s blood was good, it was directly from Angelus but diluted over the
centuries from feedings and time. If she couldn’t have her mate’s blood,
then Buffy needed the next best thing. His sire’s blood. For a brief moment,
Buffy toyed with just taking Darla’s blood, draining her as much as needed
then tossing her back in the dungeons.
Dead or alive, it didn’t matter to Buffy.
Ade-Aman and her own daughter, through the strangest dream
Buffy ever experienced, stopped her. Darla, they both insisted, was needed for
later. Buffy hated that, hated that the one woman who caused them so much pain
was needed for some future something. More, Buffy hated that it wasn’t solely
Darla’s doing, this situation she and Angelus now found themselves in.
Reluctantly, Oz ordered Nicholaus to bring the shunned
vampiress to Buffy, ordering Darla first fed and bathed. If Buffy needed Darla,
the vampriess wouldn’t be malnourished and filthy. Two hours later, dragging a
much restored Darla into his queen’s rooms, Nicholaus returned. Tossing Darla
onto her knees by Buffy’s bed, Nicholaus growled in warning at the elder
before returning to his position outside the door, replacing Oz as guard there.
“Darla,” Buffy said in a cold voice as she met the
remorseful blue eyes of her husband’s sire. “You have one chance and one
chance only to redeem yourself.”
Darla nodded, not saying anything but listening
attentively. She was still a little unsure about this whole atonement thing, but
something compelled her to try, to continue seeking forgiveness from Buffy. It
almost seemed like guilt, but Darla hadn’t felt that emotion in longer than
she was a vampire, so that seemed an unlikely emotion. Still, something nagged
at her, pushing her toward this, insisting that this was the best thing for her.
And since Darla always did what was in her best interest,
no matter what feelings she was to was not feeling, that’s what she did.
“I need your blood,” Buffy said straight out, “In
order for both myself and this child to survive, we need the blood of Angelus’
sire.” She didn’t tell the vampiress before her that what they really needed
was Angelus’ blood; Buffy didn’t want to give Darla that much information.
Knowledge was power and the less Darla had the happier everyone was.
This was it, Darla thought, this was the perfect way to get
back in Buffy’s good graces. This was the way to make amends for all she did
to the elf and all she did to her kingdom, as well. It wasn’t so much that
Darla felt guilty over her actions, oh, that was a laugh, no. It was more the
fact that she’d betrayed all she was. She was, first and foremost, A Vampire
Of Aurelius; as such, Darla was required to uphold all customs and laws of her
kingdom.
The fact that she also happened to almost like
Buffy…Darla still preferred not to think on that. The fact that she did
like Buffy and the fact that she deceived that friendship all created a tangled
mess in the vampiress. On the one hand, Darla had that near-guilt. On the other,
she refused to apologize for herself, for her behavior. This seemed almost like
a sign, like something she’d been waiting for to give her that final impetus
one way or the other.
Bowing lower, forehead touching the floor as her eyes
traced the patterns on the stones there, Darla nodded. The Ancients on the stone
mosaic glared up at her, as if they knew she betrayed her clan, caste, and
childe. She’d make up for everything now, no matter what; that impetus grew
stronger as she glared back at the Ancients. “I pledge to you, my queen, my
life and my blood, I am yours to command.”
“You’ve said that before, Darla, why should I believe
you now?”
“You have no reason to, milady, this is true.” Darla
closed her eyes and wondered how she was supposed to proceed. This wasn’t on
the agenda; Buffy was supposed to just accept her proclamation of atonement.
“However, I know that I have things to make up for and this is the only way to
do so. Trust is earned, and I’ve already upset the trust between us.”
Frowning down at the scowling Ancients, Darla shrugged.
“There is no reason you should keep me alive, I know this and yet you have and
for that I can only thank you, milady. I will do everything in my power to
support you, to follow you, and to try and regain whatever trust was once
between us.
Darla didn’t raise her head when Buffy didn’t answer
straight away, so missed the elfin queen look at her gryphon. When Ade-Aman
nodded once, Buffy scowled, but placed her hand on Darla’s bent head. To again
trust Darla, it wasn’t something Buffy was willing to do. But if she was to
come in useful in the future…the elf couldn’t take the chance.
“This is it, Darla, do not fail me.”
Sudden panic gripped Darla; what had she just agreed to?
What had she bound herself to? But she nodded her agreement, intending to use
this second chance for all it was worth. To start, she crawled the few paces
between she and Buffy, head tilted to the side.
In an instant, Buffy’s blunt teeth closed over Darla’s
neck, roughly breaking the skin there and drawing in gulps of blood. Buffy’s
reaction was much different to the taste of Darla’s blood than to
Drusilla’s. Whereas with Dru, Buffy collapsed into sleep, unconscious for
days, now Buffy let out a cry of satisfaction as Darla’s blood flowed through
her. Magickal winds swirled around the women and a faint purple light could be
seen in the room, should anyone bother to look.
Darla wouldn’t say that being tasted by Buffy was what
made her change, but there was certainly something about it that did change her.
Though the vampiress tasted none of Buffy’s blood, the one-sided transfer
bonded the two women in a way that they’d never be fully able to explain. Not
in any physical sense, but in the metaphysical sense; some of Buffy’s pain
transferred itself to Darla and the vampiress knew, in those moments, what it
meant to truly be strong.
And just how weak she was.
And she knew once again that Buffy had what was required to
rule a kingdom, be Angelus’ bonded mate and eternal, and be the Queen the
Aurelius people required. Darla, while loyal – and vowing to renew that
loyalty every chance she got – was content, more than content, to let the
actual running of the kingdom fall to others. She hadn’t the time nor the
patience for things such as trade agreements or familial alliances.
Allowing her head to fall to the bed, Darla distantly felt
Buffy’s hand rest on her shoulder. Loyalty, trust, devotion aside, Darla still
only almost liked the elf. What could she say? She wasn’t one for change.
~~~~~~~~~~
And in a distant land, Angelus roared. Both demon and soul felt Buffy drink from
another.
They’d felt it before, but then it was only a faint tugging, something that said it was necessary. This was different; it spoke of creation and design. In those moments, as the feelings washed through Buffy then Angelus, the vampire wondered. He wondered if his initial reaction was correct, that the babe Buffy carried wasn’t his, for whom else would she drink from than the father of her child. But why, if the father wasn’t a vampire, would she drink from another? A desperate sinking sensation filled Angelus as he thought of another reason. What if Buffy, his wife, drank from another because they were initiating the mating bond, forming another between she and someone else, while breaking the one between she and Angelus.
Was that even possible? No, it wasn’t and Angelus knew
that, knew it as soon as the thought crossed his mind. Buffy was his, his mate,
his wife, his eternal. One couldn’t break that bond. But then what was this?
Why did she need to drink from another? There should be no need.
He tried, the next time he and Buffy met in their
bond-dream, to discover the identity of the one she drank. Buffy was less than
forthcoming. She insisted that, because he left and refused to return, it was
none of his concern. All she
allowed was that she and his child were safe and well.
It was the last time they met in their dream world, the
last time both ends of their bond were, simultaneously, fully opened to the
other.
When he awoke, Angelus destroyed the abandoned cabin he was
sleeping in, reducing the already crumbling structure to less than rubble. He
did his best, during both waking and sleeping hours, to either discern the name
of the one Buffy tasted, or completely ignore her.
Until the day his daughter was born.
**********
He regretted that choice of words, Buffy reflected as she
listened to Horace now. She had, after all, swung the Ancient’s sword through
his neck, effectively decapitating him.
Buffy sat in Angelus throne, now hers, and waited for the
minister to read from the parchment. The other throne, the one she used as queen
to Angelus, still sat beside this one, and waited for her daughter to take her
place. She was heavily pregnant, no longer left the castle, and met with her
ministers only once a week. It was difficult for her to get around now, even
within the castle, but she refused to halt her duties as queen until she
absolutely had to.
Weakness wasn’t something she intended to show, to
anyone, ever again.
One hand rested on her distended belly, the other clenched
in a fist on the arm of her throne, inches from her gryphon. Ade-Aman refused to
leave her side now, and Buffy didn’t think the gryphon had eaten since her
ninth month. He assured her, however, that his frequent hunts before now were
sufficient to sustain him for months. Having no real idea about the creature’s
habits, eating or otherwise, Buffy let it go.
“Ambassador Cuman from Kingdom Rezov has proposed an
alliance.” Horace said, holding the parchment for Buffy’s inspection.
Drusu, her personal guard for the day, took it and handed
it to the pregnant woman, and Buffy quickly read it over. It was a simple
proposal, Buffy noted as she rode through another wave of pain, one designed to
bring their two kingdoms closer together. It was, however, not the proposal she
questioned. It was the timing. While it was true that Cuman was the closest ally
she had in any of the other three kingdoms, the elfin queen didn’t, for a
moment, believe this was a sudden desire; nor did she trust the vampire, no
matter how friendly he was.
“Is Cuman still in the kingdom?”
“Yes, majesty,” Horace nodded, “He awaits your
response.”
“Bring him then.”
Ten minutes later Cuman walked through the chamber doors,
bowing respectively. He stayed kneeled as Buffy regarded him for long silent
moments. Finally, she allowed him to rise and waited for him to speak.
“Your majesty. My Ancient, has authorized me to extend an
alliance proposal to the Ancient of this Kingdom for the duration,” Cuman said
with a smile. It was, after all, what he wanted for some time now.
Narrowing her eyes, Buffy waited for Cuman to say more but
he didn’t. The ambassador was hiding something, Buffy knew, but couldn’t
fathom what. Not taking her eyes
from the vampire, Buffy ordered her council, “Leave us, I wish to speak with
Ambassador Cuman about this matter.”
There was no protest, as Buffy knew there wouldn’t be,
even if the minister’s expressions were somewhat mutinous. Drusu didn’t
leave his position from her right, awaiting his own orders. Buffy may be queen
and the (acting) Ancient, but Drusu answered to Gunn and Oz, no one else. He’d
pledged his life to the queen and wasn’t about to jeopardize either her life
or his by going back on the First’s orders.
“Drusu, please have Gunn and Oz bring Drusilla.”
Reluctantly doing as she bade, Drusu left Buffy alone with
Cuman for a scant two minutes as he did her request. When all four were
assembled, Buffy dismissed Drusu and Oz, knowing they were standing right
outside the door, and asked Cuman once more his intentions.
Glancing at both the Vampire First and Angelus’ eldest
childe, the ambassador cleared his throat. It wasn’t that he was nervous so
much as he was anticipating the outcome of his campaigning. His own Ancient
still had reservations about this move, but Cuman was positive it was the right
one.
“My Ancient’s seers have predicted a great partnership
between our kingdoms, majesty,” Cuman began. “For several years various
plans have been developed and discarded in an attempt to facilitate that
joining. At first,” and this was trickier, Cuman didn’t want his honesty to
bring about war.
“At first my Ancient thought that the joining of our
kingdoms was due to Rezov conquering Aurelius. This was not the case, as
Aurelius is strong, loyal, and has ties to more than one Land here.” Cuman
nodded to Buffy, acknowledging her elfin heritage. The queen said nothing so
Cuman continued. “With the announcement of your majesty’s pregnancy, my
Ancient realized two things. One was that even without Angelus here, Aurelius
was stronger than Rezov and that perhaps it was your unborn babe who sealed this
alliance.”
Raising an eyebrow, none of her discomfort showing as she
addressed the ambassador, Buffy waited a minute for the pain of her daughter’s
birth to pass. Of all the times, she silently admonished her soon-to-be
born child, couldn’t you wait another hour? Still, the pause was
calculated enough to give the impression she wanted; that she was considering
– and not very favorably – Cuman’s proposal.
“In what way, Ambassador?” Buffy asked. “In what way
do you propose my daughter be part of this…alliance?”
“I am…unsure, majesty,” Cuman admitted and hoped that
disdainful look on Buffy’s face didn’t mean that he was going to leave
Aurelius as dust in the wind. “I’d hoped that that might be worked out with
you. The birth of a child to an Ancient is unheard of and has thrown all the
kingdoms into a frenzy; things are being questioned that have been held as law
for centuries now. It is my Ancient’s hope that an alliance between our
kingdoms will facilitate peace.”
Buffy nodded, already knowing the rumors that spread across
the Vampire Continuum over her pregnancy, and turned to Drusilla, asking her
question silently. Dru looked at the Rezov ambassador for a moment longer before
turning to Buffy. The vampiress nodded, eyes flickering with something before
turning to face forward once more.
“It is as he says, my Queen,” Drusilla said, “The
path of your daughter is well planned, her fate outside this kingdom.”
Buffy nodded, fighting the urge to scream in pain and waited for it to pass once more. She really needed to wrap this up and soon before her daughter was born on the throne Buffy sat in. “Very well, Ambassador Cuman. I shall call to my seers and priestess immediately; for now, a simple alliance is best, I believe, between us.”
Cuman nodded and bowed out. Buffy sighed, “Finally. Dru, call Tara for me,
please, and my father. Also have the High Priestess brought from her temple.
Gunn,” she called to her First as she struggled out of the chair.
Immediately by his queen’s side, Gunn helped her out of
the chair and then caught her when she collapsed, a sharp hiss of pain leaving
her lips. It took a moment for the normally quick First to realize what was
happening. And another moment for the sheer panic to run its course. By the
third moment, Drusilla had opened the door and Oz entered the room, going to
Buffy’s other side.
“By the Priestess,” Gunn told his friend with a look on
his face that said it all, “She’s having the baby.”
Oz didn’t change expression, but for a second the look in
his eyes darkened and showed the panic Gunn felt. Still, neither said anything
as they all but carried Buffy back to her chambers, ordering Drusu to round the
rest of her guards and secure the castle. Pre-planning was a good thing in this
case, as Gunn and Oz already had…several contingences for the birth of
Buffy’s daughter.
Extra security for the queen, of course, but the young
princess’ own guards were already chosen, screened, tested, and threatened. Oz
and Gunn decided, with the absence of Angelus, that they both needed to continue
their respective jobs as First to Buffy, and picked a new First for the
princess. Nicholaus did not yet know of his new position, but both Firsts agreed
that he was the best for the job.
Buffy doubled over then, clutching her rippling stomach and
Gunn swung her into his arms, moving faster down the hallway as Oz followed,
guarding their backs. Gunn had absolutely no idea what went on during a birth
despite studying all he could on the subject, and was more panicked than
Oz…but not by much. Reaching the queen’s chambers, he impatiently waited the
second it took Drusilla to open the doors before the vampire gently laid Buffy
on the bed, smoothing back her hair before resuming his usual position near the
door.
Seconds later Tara and Rupert entered, with the Royal
Physician Marcus, and Gunn breathed a sigh of relief.
He was not, contrary to Contingency Plan Numbers 15, 21,
and 47 going to deliver the child.
Tara whispered to Buffy as Rupert set about casting complex
spells around the room, one for protection, one for love, one for hope and
guidance, and one for wisdom. And one last spell for silence. Rupert knew the
value of keeping a leader’s pain from others and while those within these
chambers would die before revealing the slightest slander against Buffy, he
didn’t want some enterprising maid to wander past and start rumors.
Just as he finished the last word, Buffy screamed, a loud
wail that threatened, Rupert was sure, the strength of the silencing barrier.
It was his job, as father when no mother was present, to
keep the magicks around Buffy clean and pure. As Buffy let loose another scream,
her stomach clenching from the force of the labor pains, Rupert was extremely
glad he had only one girl. He’d never survive this through two of them. Not
only that, but Buffy was part human – that must have something to do with the
intensity of her pains as Rupert knew elfin births to be relatively pain free
until the last moments.
Tara, Drusilla, and Marcus tended Buffy, cleansing her face
and whispering words meant to soothe her. It was not permitted, though Rupert
desperately wished it were, to ease her birthing pains through magick; no matter
how safe the spells, it was feared something could hurt the child. An hour into
the process, the High Priestess arrived. Cora instantly took her position near
Buffy, adding her own magicks to Rupert’s as Buffy panted for breath.
“Darla” Buffy said with a grimace as another twinge
gripped her.
“What?” Tara asked, not entirely sure she heard
correctly. The blonde vampiress was so far down on her list of favorite people
it was unbelievable. Normally, Tara considered herself to be a caring, kind
person, one who knew everyone had their own faults and tried to accept those
faults, but Darla made the elf want to use every kind of dark magick she could
on the vampiress.
“I need Darla here. I need her…Angelus…”
Tara nodded, but Drusilla was already moving towards the
door where Gunn, Oz, and William stood outside with Drusu, and Nicholaus.
“Gunn, we need Darla,” Drusilla told the stunned First. “Our Queen
needs her in place of our Ancient.”
Nodding once, he turned to retrieve the still incarcerated
vampiress. Darla no longer stayed in the dungeons, Gunn and Oz deciding that
since their queen needed her, having her life in filth and squalor was against
the rules. Still, her quarters were far from the best. The room was small,
cramped, and dark. No windows adorned the area; a single cot lay against one
wall, and a small table and one chair against another. Food was brought to her
by Cook herself, Oz not trusting anyone else to do so, as it was well known how
loyal Francesca was to both Buffy and Angelus.
In the ten minutes it took the vampire First to return with
the willing vampiress, he worked himself into both a small panic – something
could have happened while he was away – and a fine rage. Somehow – and even
he admitted he was a little unclear on how – Darla orchestrated this. With
Angelus gone, she’d once more insinuated herself in Buffy’s life. As Oz
opened the door and Gunn brought Darla into the room, the vampire shook his
head. His logic was just a little skewed today, what with the panic and all.
Darla entered and immediately went to Buffy’s side,
wondering if the elf still needed her blood now, when it was obvious even to her
that this was the birth. Kneeling by the bed, and ignoring everyone else, Darla
grasped Buffy’s hand and did her best to stifle the gasp of surprise at the
grip the smaller woman had.
“Hand on stomach,” Buffy whispered to Darla, knowing,
without being told, that this was what needed to happen. “Concentrate on
Angelus, only him.”
Not understanding one bit, Darla nonetheless did as she was
told; forming a picture of Angelus in her mind’s eye that was everything a
child should think of her daddy. The strong protector, the unwavering leader.
The loving husband, Darla managed, focusing on all the times she’d seen
Angelus and Buffy together. The joy at the news of Buffy’s pregnancy she
should have beat into him rather then trying to seduce him when he refused to
immediately realize that truth. Nothing bad ever entered Darla’s mind as she
sat there through the long hours it took the child to enter the world.
How strong and brave Angelus was when Darla first met him
during the battle for the humans of that pathetic plane. How he rose to the task
of leadership when Darla couldn’t, and how he’d spared Gunn’s life because
the First was that strong, that brave, that fierce a warrior. The marriage
between he and Buffy, the images Darla remembered from the ceremony and how it
was unlike anything she’d ever seen.
Under the memories and the touch of her husband’s sire,
Buffy calmed, the pain easing and her body relaxing. Rupert understood, though
he hated Darla fiercely, that because Angelus wasn’t there, Buffy needed her
connection to him to help her though this. The fact that he could see the energy
of the positive memories flow from Darla to his grandchild meant little to
Rupert as he renewed his blame on Angelus for leaving.
The hours slipped by when suddenly Buffy screamed once
more. Tara, Drusilla, and Cora moved to the end of the bed, all three ignoring
the fact that it was Angelus’ name Buffy shouted. Within minutes, Buffy
pushed, following the directions of the women before her. Darla never moved from
her position, too lost in her own world and her own bond with the child to
realize what was happening.
Another push, then another, and one more. Then suddenly the
baby was in this world, quickly cleaned and already wailing for her mother.
Darla collapsed at the side of the bed, exhausted from such a long trance. Tara
held the child a moment more, cooing to her, before handing her to Buffy.
Immediately Buffy brought her daughter to her breast,
watching in fascination as the girl latched onto her nipple, sucking
voraciously. The instant daughter touched mother, all the protection magicks in
the room snapped into a brilliant ball of gold and surrounded the child before
entering her. Rupert and Tara gasped, having never witnessed such a thing
before, while Drusilla smiled and Cora wondered if she’d ever have the
pleasure of witnessing such an extraordinary event again.
“We have a beautiful daughter, Angelus,” Buffy whispered to her absent husband, quietly so no one else but their child heard her, “She misses you.”
From where he watched through their bond, Angelus smiled.
He was unbelievably glad to know that for this, Buffy allowed him access,
allowed her side of their bond to open, if only a little while and if only for
now. His joy was tinged with an unbearable sadness that he was not there, and
even now, a slight unreasonable and unbearable jealously that maybe, despite the
acceptance he had towards her, maybe this child wasn’t his. But he allowed
none of that through their bond, content, for the moment, to watch his family.
Placing a phantom kiss on his daughter’s head, Angelus abruptly woke, cutting
the bond off as he did so.
Turning his back on all he’d witnessed, the vampire with a soul did his best to ignore his family and move on, further away from the portal that could take him home to them.
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