Title: The Surrogate 10/19
Author: Jacqui
Rating: I’ve resigned myself to G. There’s nothing here, really, these characters are getting way too polite for my tastes.
Disclaimer: Buffy, Giles and all other assorted Buffy candies belong to Joss Whedon, WB and ME. Elizabeth, and everything from her world, belongs to me (the real me, not the ‘grr aargh’ ME .
Notes: Ok, so I’ve bought in the faces, now I need to tie them all in, don’t I? Pfft, I didn’t mean literally, you filthy minded apes! Just a question, does anybody read this anymore?

Feedback: Give me a happy. wily_one24@yahoo.com.au

Buffy lashed out with her fist, it connected rather satisfyingly with the face in front of her. She knew it was useless, that it would come to nothing, but she could already feel her muscles bunching up, readying themselves for a fight. She was so wound up lately.

Just as she’d thought, there was no answering attack, there hadn’t been in the last three weeks. There had been fighting, sure enough, a physical outlet of sorts, but nothing that came close to a real battle, something that would mean she had to strain herself, push herself to her limits. She needed that.

What she wanted was somebody to put up an attack, not the defense she was getting here. Truth be told, she was the one throwing the punches, the kicks, most of her energy was exerted just making contact, not in the actual combat.

Buffy pouted and stopped in her tracks, placing her hands on her hips.

"Ok, that’s it! What’s your game?"

"Game? There’s no game, Slayer."

"Oh, please, Spike. My mother hits harder than that." Buffy pursed her lips. "Oh wait, you knew that already, didn’t you?"

She broke into a taunting grin, her fists in front of her, almost bouncing on her feet, trying to get him to engage. Spike counted to ten under his breath. She’d been trying to goad him into losing it for the whole three weeks and he thought he’d done a pretty good job of not wiping the floor with her.

"What’s the matter, you not having fun here, Blondie?"

"Oh, I’m having fun, I mean, kicking your ass into new shapes always rates high in the fun guide." Her face smoothed into an expression of concern as she leant her head to the side. "But you’ve always been able to give good fight, Spike. What’s the matter? Been having trouble with the battle equipment?"

"There’s nothing wrong with my…!" He stopped himself, forcing his words out between his teeth. "You just better watch yourself, Slayer, or I’ll… I’ll…"

"You’ll what? You haven’t put anything behind these fights since you got here."

"Doesn’t mean I can’t."

"Just that you won’t." She paused. "Why won’t you? What’s stopping you, Spike?"

* * * *

"Good bleeding question, mate." Spike turned to face Ethan. "Why the hell can’t I hurt her?"

"Because," Ethan held out a glass of beer as a toast, his pinkie finger raised. "I said so."

He lifted the glass and let the cool liquid pour down his throat, taking great delight in knowing that Spike would find himself helpless to argue. Not that there was anything, really, stopping Spike from leaving, but Ethan had done his research. Spike was a vampire known for his excess, but not his genius in long term plans.

Spike huffed, storming to the kitchen to retrieve a mug from the fridge and place it in the microwave, slamming the door with relish and watching the little tray wind around and around. He could smell the blood as it heated and his frustrations began to escalate, his nostrils twitching with the spicy scent.

"You know," He called back to Ethan. "one of these days she’ll push me too far and I’ll let loose. You can’t hold me responsible for that."

"That wasn’t the deal." Ethan grinned to himself as he leafed through one of his books. It added a whole new aspect of fun, just seeing how far he could push the vamp.

"Yeah, yeah. I know the deal." The microwave beeped and Spike wasted no time in pulling out his prize. "You keep me supplied with blood, booze, cigarettes and a place to stay and I keep the Slayer busy, give her some exercise, but don’t hurt the lass."

"And?"

Spike downed the mug and headed for the door, already energized for his night ahead.

"And I keep all vamps and demons off her back, I got it. What I don’t get is why."

* * * *

She walked into their apartment, her muscles already tired and aching from the night’s slaying. For once he hadn’t come with her and she was partly grateful for that. The vamps had come prepared and she’d had to fight hard.

He hadn’t heard her, he was too focused on the book he was reading, his head bowed down, his feet resting on the table in front of the sofa. She grinned, not making any sound, not wanting to disturb him, just taking in the quiet picture of him. Her watcher.

As she stepped forward, her mind drifted to those moments, just between the two of them, that no one and no thing could ever disturb, could ever take away from them. She saw him as no one else ever saw him and it was a privilege she didn’t take lightly.

Just before she reached the back of the sofa she stopped, her mind taking the time to relish his scent as it broke into her conscious. This was how she wanted it, this was how she needed it to be, for ever and ever and ever.

"Rupert."

She called softly, her voice barely raised above a whisper. He didn’t turn his head, instead he leant it back, so that she saw his face upside down, his little half smile upside down, the crinkles at the side of his eyes when he smiled, all upside down.

"Hmm?"

"Nothing." She smiled as she placed her arms around his neck and walked her fingers down the front of his chest. "Just lovin’ you."

"And then he just left. Again!"

Elizabeth blinked her way out of her daydream as Buffy’s indignant voice brought her back to reality. Buffy was sitting on the sofa, her legs curled up under her as she leant into Giles. His arm ran along the back of her shoulders and came to rest down the front of her chest where her fingers played idly with his. As she talked, Buffy seemed unaware of their position, but Giles watched her indulgently. Elizabeth was learning not to let the ache consume her.

"He ceded?"

"Yes! And that’s not all!" Buffy twisted in his arms until she was kneeling up, facing him, his hand trailing across her hip where she’d dropped it. "He’s, like, the only vamp I’ve seen for weeks."

Elizabeth looked across the room and saw her own miserable yearning mirrored in Willow’s eyes. She wanted to reach out and envelop her, to hold her and ease the pain that Oz’s leaving had caused her. She didn’t, however, because it was still hard to let go of her own pain.

Their eyes met and a guilty little acknowledgement flashed through both their stares.

When she looked back, Elizabeth saw that Buffy had retreated somewhat and was now sitting next to Giles, but not with him. A slightly confused look was written on his face, but Buffy’s hand was sitting on top of his and she gave it a little squeeze.

Again she looked at Willow, but the red head was no longer looking at anybody, her head was pointed down, concentrating on her hands twisting in her lap. There was a long moment of silence in the air. Elizabeth felt doubly guilty, not only for feeling jealous of the two, but for letting them know.

"You’re…" Giles’ voice was hesitant and awkward. "You’re saying there are no vampires, other than Spike, in Sunnydale? That has to be a first."

"Not just vamps, Giles, there’s nothing out there. No demons, no hell beasts, not even a slightly irritated poodle."

"Not that you’ve seen, anyway." Willow still couldn’t look Buffy in the eye.

Elizabeth looked at her suddenly.

"That doesn’t mean they’re not there." She looked back at Buffy. "You say this Spike has always fought well before?"

Buffy nodded.

"Didn’t he in your world?"

"I only fought him once, when he first came. After his girlfriend died, he left a wreck and I never saw him again."

"Dru died?" Willow’s eyebrows furrowed for a moment, then lifted. "Oh! ‘Cause there was no Angel."

"So, you think the two are connected?" Giles saw the incredulous looks he got from all three girls. It still phased him a little that two of them were so identical. He gave a little smile and took the glasses from his face. "Yes, yes, I know. I think the word you’re all searching for is ‘duh’."

* * * *

Xander lifted his shoulder higher, trying to keep the cell between it and his ear. In his hands the large steel tray began to slip and he twisted his waist to try and balance it. The hat fell off his head. He swore under his breath.

"No. No, Buffy that wasn’t meant for you." He set the tray of sliced buns on the counter and began slathering them with ketchup. "You want me to what? When? Tomorrow? But I have that thing with Anya. No! For your information it does not include nakedness! Okay, well, maybe it does, that’s beside the point."

He reached over to his left and began flipping several sizzling burgers.

"Yeah, okay, fine. I’ll do it. Catch ya later, Buff." He snapped the cell closed and then glared at the new guy. "Hey you! Yeah, you by the fryer, you got time to lean, you got time to clean, buddy!"

* * * *

Buffy sighed, leaning back in her chair and stretching out when the class was officially finished. She was no longer sure she could take these classes anymore, not without some major explaining. Her chest was cinching in tight, so tight she could barely breathe, and the acid was rising steadily.

"Willow, I need…"

"I know, I know, more milk. Let’s go."

As Willow stood up and swung her back pack onto her shoulder, she noticed the odd and awkward way with which Buffy got out of her chair. It was as if Buffy were making allowances for a bulge that wasn’t there, for the stomach that had stubbornly refused to grow. It was odd, she’d seen that movement on pregnant women before, but it looked out of place on someone who wasn’t.

"If this keeps up." Buffy huffed. "People are gonna have to start calling me Bessie the Cow. How can one little baby cause so much hassle?"

"Uh, Buffy?"

Riley watched as they turned to face him. He noticed the look that Willow gave Buffy before she left them alone. He’d been watching them closely for the last few weeks, he didn’t know what to make of things. At first he’d told himself that he was keeping an eye on her because she was the Slayer, but then he’d had to admit, even to himself, that it was more than that.

She made him think. That was something rare, not many things did nowadays, he’d gotten too used to accepting things at face value. He’d receive a command and he’d obey it. He’d see something and it went straight into his memory bank. Buffy, though, she made him think and he liked it.

There was something about the way she acted and it wasn’t just the Slayer stuff, because he’d begun to pick up on little things that he normally wouldn’t have noticed and there was no mistaking that fact now. It was in the way she talked, the way she acted, the way she lived life, not just experienced it.

"Buffy, I was wondering, are you doing anything tonight?"

"No, not really." She responded without thinking, distracted as she watched the students file out, then her face registered panic. "Oh! Oh, Riley, no! I didn’t mean… Oh god. You were just… you were asking me out, weren’t you?"

"I thought I was."

"Oh, gee, that’s really sweet of you, Riley, I’m really flattered, but…"

"But?" He leaned forward, slightly, trying to urge her on, although he wasn’t quite sure he wanted to hear what she had to say. ‘Buts’ always made him nervous.

"I can’t."

"You can’t?" He was right.

"There’s someone else?"

"Is that a question? You’re not sure?" Now, he knew for sure that she wasn’t seeing anyone else. He’d been following her. There had been no one, he was almost certain that he would have noticed had anyone been hanging about.

"Look, Riley, it’s complicated, but yeah. There’s someone else." Slowly, very slowly, Buffy was getting annoyed at the sudden inquisition.

"You know, Buffy, if you don’t like me, that’s all you have to say, you don’t have to lie…"

"It’s no lie!" Alright, now she was angry. Not only did he have no right to question her about her love life, he had no right to question her honesty.

"Really? Then who…?" He was confused, her anger was just compounding it.

"I don’t have to justify myself…"

"’Cause I’ve only ever seen you with that Xander guy and, no offense, he doesn’t seem your type. Or that old guy, the Englishman."

"Giles?" Riley missed the glint that surfaced in Buffy’s eyes. "You better not mean Giles."

* * * *

Elizabeth looked up from the book she was reading.

"Uh oh."

* * * *

Ethan looked at the door. He hummed as he tapped his nails on the table. One by one, the nails rapped against the table top, clicking crisply as they echoed his boredom. The urge to open that door was an itch that he was struggling not to scratch.

All he had to do was open the door, maybe readjust the thick curtains that hung over the windows, and Spike would be awake. Of course, seconds after that, Spike would be ash. So that was out of the question. For the moment, Spike was serving his purpose.

He was restless, he had magicks running through his veins which made him sizzle with energy. It reminded him of a time when there had been more than enough outlets for his energy, their energy. A time when Ripper was just beginning and hadn’t discovered a bloody conscience.

A time when chaos had yet to be discovered and mateship had mattered more than duty and calling.

"Ethan! Stop mincing about like a bloody poof and sit down! Good, now put on your wreath of rose petals."

He stopped pacing the small room, dingy and box like, and sat down. His movements were quick and edgy, he was desperately nervous. Rupert, on the other hand, was eerily calm, he always was. At least, the air he gave was calm, Ethan suspected he was just as freaked at this as he was.

"What do you think she’s like, Rupert, my slayer?"

"We’ll never find out if you don’t drink the potion, now, will we?"

"This doesn’t smell too good, are you sure it’s okay, Rupert?"

"Don’t call me that!" He’d almost growled.

"What? Rupert? That’s your name, ain’t it?"

"It’s a bloody punce name, it is, too proper. I know, call me Ripper."

"You don’t look like a Ripper."

"If you don’t shut up, I’ll rip you, now drink!"

Ripper threw the noxious liquid down in one gulp, it was sour and made his eyes water, but when he looked down at the pool of water in the middle of all their candles and herbs, his eyes widened. The water flickered with a soft green light, then rippled over to reveal a picture to him. He gasped.

"What? Rupert." Ethan was almost whining. "Ripper? What do you see?"

Ethan took one look at the amazement on Rupert’s face, it convinced him, he drank the mix and stared at the scene unfolding before him.

She was young, extremely so, and she was just meeting her first vampire. Vulnerability and strength battled for wills in her tiny frame. Both men looked with awe at the beauty that radiated from the image. They both jerked forward as she missed the heart with her stake, urging her on.

It lasted thirty seconds.

"Well, she’s a bit of alright, don’t you think? Sure glad I’m a watcher now."

But Rupert, or Ripper, did not speak, he continued staring at the little pool, wishing for a little bit more, another brief glimpse of what he’d never have.

"Hey Ripper? Can I change my name, too? What can I be called?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because Ethan’s a name. Rupert isn’t a bleeding name, it’s a disability."

Ethan sighed and looked at his watch. Half an hour until sunset. Spike would be awake soon. Sure, the vamp wasn’t brilliant, but Ethan was going to go crazy, he needed someone to cause trouble with. Maybe later, after Spike had given Buffy her daily exercise, they could both go kill some demons together.

* * * *

"It’s all talk and no action." Willow sighed and picked at the muffin on her plate. "Kinda like you and Gi…"

Buffy coughed. Willow’s eyes went wide.

"Uh, not like anything. No, like nothing at all."

"Hmm?" Giles raised his head from the book he was reading. "Did you say something?"

"Us?" Willow put on her best resolve face as Buffy fell into a helpless giggling heap on the sofa. "No. Not us."

Giles gave them a semi stern look before returning to his book. He was researching the lack of demon action and its possible connection to Spike. Buffy grinned at his bowed head, then turned back to her friend.

"So, this wiccan group, not so wiccan-ey?"

"Not at all." Willow gave a frustrated shrug of her shoulders. "But if you wait until next weekend, I can get you a recipe for a really self healing carrot cake!"

"Will," Buffy eased herself on the sofa, trying to find a comfortable position and failing miserably. She reached out and took Willow’s hand. "Exactly what are you trying to get from this group? You’re way cool as a wicca without them and you know it."

Willow avoided Buffy’s eyes.

"Distraction, I guess." Her bottom lip trembled.

* * * *

"There’s nothing there!"

"Shh!" Xander hissed as his hand squeezed Anya’s.

"You’re telling me this isn’t creepy? There’s nothing there!"

Xander pulled her away, tugging her behind him as he left Elizabeth by herself. They’d spent the night at the movies, a simple plan, easily executed. The movies were dark, quiet, relatively little chance of being spotted.

Elizabeth had finally been able to break away from the prison like atmosphere of Giles’ apartment and she’d been grateful for that. Xander had followed Buffy’s strict instructions, he’d laughed at her possessiveness, the deep ingrained need to protect Elizabeth.

They’d even had a pretty good night, Elizabeth, Anya and himself. Especially after he’d convinced Anya that this activity could be more fun than any she’d had planned for the privacy of his own basement. There was just one thing he hadn’t counted on.

Elizabeth’s ability, the same as Buffy’s, to cajole him into anything. And now they stood in the cemetery, well, he and Anya stood. Elizabeth knelt by graves that weren’t even there. He had to give it to Anya, it was slightly creepsome, but he understood it.

She knelt in the earth, her knees pushing against the well remembered tree root. How strange, that even this little detail could remain the same when so many larger ones were different. This place, just here, should have marked Willow’s grave and a little bit to the left would mark Joyce, on the right would be Oz and further down, Rupert. How empty the place seemed.

There had been no arguments, no resistance, when she had wanted them buried together. After all that had happened, petty squabbling within the families had seemed useless. They had agreed immediately. So, together, they slept beneath the feet of Sunnydale.

Only one patch had remained empty, the one to the right of Rupert, to his immediate right. A large, blank space, it had seemed, just waiting for her. Elizabeth wondered, now, looking at the whole graveless expanse of earth, just how long that space would have remained empty had she not arrived here.

It ached, it ached worse than she could have imagined, it even ached worse than knowing that the little patch of earth just beyond the hill would also be empty. She could not decide whether or not that was a good thing. That obscenely small grave, the one that should never have existed at all, would be untended now.

There would be no one to go and pull up the weeds, to water the plants, to protect her child from the dangers of the dark. She wondered whether the child, a little boy, would know this. How her heart yearned, so strongly it made her sick, to be back again. She wanted somebody to keep her child safe in the night.

This was doing her no good, no good at all. She stood up, ready to go back to the apartment, but when she turned, Xander and Anya had gone. She turned around, in a wide, useless circle, trying to see where they had gone. A little shiver raced up her spine when she heard a voice.

"Hello Slayer."

She spun around to face him.

Spike nearly fell over. His jaw fell open and he let it hang there for several seconds as he stared at her engorged belly. He certainly could have sworn that that hadn’t been there the night before when she’d been punching the life out of him.

"Well, well, you’ve been keeping secrets."

Elizabeth felt her mouth go dry. She suddenly regretted not telling Buffy everything about pregnant slayers. Stepping backwards, she felt herself trip over the tree root and as her back hit the trunk of the tree, she saw the feral grin spread across his face. She hoped that Xander and Anya weren’t far off.

* * * *

"Spike!" Buffy sat up straight. Panic flooding her senses in an almost crippling wave. She leapt off the sofa. "Giles! We need to go, now!"

* * * *

Maggie Walsh sat down at the head of the table, to her right sat Dr. Engelman, on the table the telephone sat, turned to speaker, linked to Washington. Her bosses. The people she usually bowed to. Not tonight, however, tonight she had some news that would make her very, very popular.

"A pregnant Slayer, you say?" The voice crackled through.

"Yes." She almost glowed with achievement. "Nearly to term."

"There’s never been a pregnant slayer brought to term before."

"Can you imagine the power a child of the slayer would have?" And suddenly her voice was honeyed.

"Nobody knows that, there is nothing to show that slayer powers are inherited."

"We could be the first. Imagine the possibilities."

There was a pause before the voice answered again.

"The tests would mean nothing, the influences of the world, the slayer, everything, it would be tainted."

"Yes." Maggie grinned, she waved her hand at Dr. Engelman who was now shaking his head at her. "That’s what I figured too, that’s why we need it almost immediately from birth. Complete isolation, even if it inherited half of the slayer’s power, it could help us. Imagine, trained completely from birth, to do nothing but fight for us."

She was almost hypnotized by her own words.

"How would you get the slayer to agree to that?"

"Oh, don’t worry, we have someone working on that right now. Agent Finn."

Dr. Engelman couldn’t keep quite anymore.

"Riley would never agree to that!"

Maggie quieted him with an angry stare.

"That’s why we don’t tell him. He’s never been one to ask questions."

Then she heard the word she’d been waiting for.

"Proceed."

* * * *

Spike licked his lips and almost growled with frustration. He knew, his head was telling him, that he couldn’t. His brain was throwing up images of what Ethan would do to him if he broke the agreement, but his whole being was scorching.

He could smell it, it was calling to him. Her blood, spiced with a little bit of magick and a whole lot of baby. There was something in it, and he didn’t know what, he just knew that it was becoming increasingly hard to resist it.

It felt like there were insects crawling through his veins, scattering their tiny feet in painful scratches. They moved to the beat of the blood pulsing through her belly, he could almost picture the very movements the baby made.

Her fear, that too, was intoxicating. Spike turned away, his head pulsing, if only he could get away, if only he could leave, then he’d be able to forget, he’d be able to think again. But he couldn’t. He was being drawn helplessly to the pregnant slayer. Even as she was backing away, frantically searching for something, anything, to save herself, to save the child inside her, Spike was stalking forward.

The foot came out of nowhere and landed with startling accuracy on his left cheekbone.

"Get away from her, Spike!"

As he hit the ground, Spike got a mouthful of dirt. He barely had time to lift himself on to his elbows before the foot returned to connect with his chin, he flew back into a headstone and heard a sickening crack as his skull hit the stone.

He blinked, shook his head in confusion as he tried to make sense of what he was seeing, hearing and feeling.

"Slayer?"

"And you were expecting who?"

His eyes clicked into focus and he saw Buffy. The Buffy he remembered from the previous night, the one he’d known for years. The small, petite blonde who could hold her own in a fight. He looked back to the figure who was now trembling as Giles helped her up. He felt the sizzle begin to return and quickly looked away.

"Then who is…?"

Just then, Xander and Anya ran up, puffing hard. They took in the fright in Elizabeth’s eyes, the trembling anger in Buffy, Spike’s confusion and Xander winced. Anya had the grace to at least look guilty. Buffy didn’t take her eyes off Spike, nor did she release her fighting stance.

"Xander? Can you take Elizabeth back? Giles and I have some beating senseless to do."

* * * *

She set the suitcase down just in front of the door. Funny, she’d forgotten how intricate the wooden carvings were, the beauty of the crosses. A harsh thought occurred to her, maybe she’d never even noticed them before. That was entirely possible.

Her teeth nibbled daintily on the cuticle of her right hand for several minutes. Her stomach was eddying with a combination of nausea and emptiness and she was trembling with the effort not to cry again. She had no right to be here, now, she knew that. No right at all.

Except… they always came here when they needed to. And she needed to.

Breathing in deeply, to wash away any negative vibes, she took her hand away from her mouth and knocked confidently. There was no reason for any of them to know the real reason she was here. Her pain was not for public consumption.

The door opened. She was expecting Giles, or even Buffy. It was neither.

"Willow?"

Willow stood inside Giles’ apartment, too surprised to move, she blinked twice then let the door fall wide open and gestured the woman to come inside.

"Hi Cordelia."

* * * *

Buffy hit Spike, none too gently, up the back of his head. He turned to glare at her, she glared back. He twisted his shoulders again, trying to loosen the bonds that held him to the chair. It didn’t work, it hadn’t worked for the last half an hour.

"Ouch, Slayer, that hurt."

"Yeah? Well, it’ll hurt a lot more if you don’t start talking." She paced the floor, her steps rapid and jumpy. A dangerous energy was swirling within her and she knew she had to calm herself, but that was almost impossible under the circumstances.

"Talk about what? There’s nothing to tal… ow! Quit it!"

She only glared at him. Spike looked over to Giles.

"Hey man, you’re her watcher, aren’t you supposed to be doing something about this?"

"I’m watching, am I not?" Giles raised his eyes in question, obviously he was not going to stop this show of brutal, unasked for violence. Spike sighed.

"Spike." Buffy spoke calmly and coldly, showing nothing of the seething anger that was confusing even her. She placed herself in front of him and looked him straight in the eye. "I’m not feeling very sane right now. I imagine you’ve got a lot to talk about and if I don’t start hearing anything, I’m going to reach into that pasty white chest, rip out a few not so vital organs and play slingshots with them. Do you understand me?"

"Buffy." Giles walked up to her. There was something wrong, her whole body was trembling, she’d taken on a bright red, glowing sheen, and he could see she was fast losing control. "Calm down, please. You know what happens when…"

"I know what happens!" She spun to face him. "I want to know why, damn it!"

Her face smoothed out, suddenly, as the world before her began to shift its focus and she could no longer stand up. Giles caught her as she slumped to the ground.

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