Thursday's Child

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

Summary: Shortly after the events of "The Replacement", Buffy and Spike are accidentally caught up in a demon fertility ritual, leading to a very strange pregnancy. Compelled by the ritual to do whatever it takes to protect it, Buffy has to deal with an angry Riley and an equally angry Spike while trying to keep her baby safe.

Author's Note: This starts between "The Replacement" and "Out of My Mind," so before Spike's subconscious finally clues him in to the fact that he's in love with Buffy.

Warning: This chapter contains non-graphic rape.

…

There was a bounce to Buffy's step as she walked through the cemetery. Xander's two sides were all togethery, he had moved away from the nastiness of the basement – and away from the even nastier situation that was his family – and Riley had told her he loved both sides of her, the slayer and the girl. Everything in the world of Buffy was of the good.

Well, it should have been anyway. The bounce started to fade. Riley's mouth had said he accepted both sides of her, but his actions…. The last couple of days, his actions had been shouting, "I am a big, macho guy, here to help the weak little girl." He'd wanted to come on patrol with her. He hadn't said it – she'd done her whole babble-girl routine before heading out specifically so he couldn't get a word in edgewise – but she'd known.

She patrolled with the others a lot, but there were times when she just needed some solitary slay time. Her friends got that. Why didn't Riley? He's supposed to be the one. Why doesn't he get this stuff? Heck, Spike seems to understand me better than Riley does sometimes. Of course, Spike had always had a disturbing ability to see right through her, so maybe it wasn't entirely fair to hold that against Riley.

She didn't really feel like being fair. She felt like slaying something. The sound of guttural voices chanting drifted to her on the wind, and she smiled, perking up again. Time to take out some demons.

…

I have got to stop torturing myself like this, Spike thought as he made his way through the cemetery towards his crypt. He'd just spent a good chunk of his night at the Bronze, chatting up the sweet little college girls he couldn't so much as take a nibble from. He told himself – as he always did – that it would be the last time.

The truth was, he'd always enjoyed talking to women almost as much as eating them. It kept him going back to the club time after time, even though it was a horrible reminder of all that the tin soldiers had taken away from him. That need to be around and talk to women. To not be alone. Well, that and the fried onion flowers. Those things were bloody fantastic.

How do I love thee?

So delicious and oniony.

Thy batter is crisp, petals sharp-tasting

Such a glorious sight mine eyes do behold

A delicate flower, burnished gold

And only a fool would shun thee

Spike froze in absolute horror as he realized he'd just composed a poem to onion flowers. Good god, what was this bloody town doing to him? Normally his inner nancy-boy poet stayed safely locked away unless there was a woman involved. His overactive imagination supplied him with a vision of consuming onion petals off of a woman's nude body. Which only reminded him that he currently didn't have a woman. He was a pathetic, lonely shadow of a vampire living on animal blood like a filthy hobo.

Ugh. And he was getting perilously close to brooding. He shook off the mood as best he could and started moving again. A little telly and just enough booze to mellow him out, and he'd be right as rain in no time.

Or I could just go and pester the slayer, he thought with a grin as he spotted the little blonde thorn in his side stalking through the cemetery. She was heading towards the So'voriku demons he'd seen setting up a ritual earlier. The new telly he'd installed would still be there after sunrise. Best to get his slayer taunting in while he could.

The rest of the night's entertainment decided on, he trailed along behind her, quiet enough that she couldn't hear him. She should have been able to sense him, but she was hyper-focused on her current prey. He was able to get close enough to practically whisper in her ear.

"They're pacifists for the most part, you know." He grinned as she jumped slightly before whirling and backing away to glare at him. "That's why I didn't bother to take 'em out. No sport to it. Though I hear they can get a mite bit violent if you threaten their sprogs."

Before Buffy could say anything – or punch him in the nose for daring to exist in her immediate proximity – the chanting stopped and a wave of magic swept through the cemetery, sending her staggering with the force of it. He didn't know if her reaction was because she was closer to the magical ground zero or something else, but it only made him shiver slightly as a weird tingly sensation zinged through his body.

"Well, that was – " He was interrupted by the slayer suddenly tackling him to the ground, pinning him flat on his back. She sat up and slid back so she was sitting on his thighs.

"Bloody hell, slayer," he groused, propping himself up on his elbows. There was a strange, glazed look in her eyes that made him uneasy, but he kept up the façade of bravado. "What was that all about? Normally you just go for the nose."

Her only response was an annoyed-sounding grunt as she started unbuckling his belt. A frisson of panic tingled up his spine along with the burgeoning feeling of utter, complete helplessness. It was something that had become all too horrifyingly familiar since being chipped. He shifted his weight onto his right elbow and lifted his left arm to slap at Buffy's hands hard enough to send a warning twinge of pain through his head. It didn't deter her in the slightest.

Bloody hell, he mentally snarled, anger starting to burn away the edges of panic. By all rights, he should have been snuggled up somewhere far, far away with Dru. Instead, he was in bloody Sunnydale, getting pawed at by the spell-crazed mega bitch who had been either directly or indirectly responsible for everything that had gone wrong for him in the past few years. And he couldn't even effectively defend himself without incapacitating levels of pain.

"Oi, keep your filthy mitts off!" he yelled as she finished with his belt and began tugging at his zipper. "You must be at least this abso-sodding-lutely not the bloody slayer to ride the Spike."

She continued to ignore him, pulling down his zipper with a single-minded intensity that was downright terrifying. In desperation, he punched her, hoping the blow would bring her to her senses. The chip fired – as he'd known it would – sending him flat to his back in agony.

Oh thank god, he thought muzzily through the pain as her weight was suddenly gone. The relief was short lived. There was a rustle of cloth, followed by his jeans being roughly yanked down. Then she was straddling his thighs again, the feeling of her now bare skin against his more intense than it should have been. The contact sizzled through him, cutting through the horrible migraine and making his body react as if she'd touched him even more intimately.

What the hell? he thought in confusion. Then coherent thought became impossible as she slid forward, her wet heat pressing against his hardening length.

…

Buffy walked into Giles's new – and as yet unopened – shop in time for the regularly scheduled Scooby meeting, a small statuette clutched in her hand. She'd found it when she'd checked the ritual site a few hours after… after…. Her mind shied away from what she'd done. It hadn't really been…. He'd never actually said the word no.

"…any of our shared classes today. I'm getting really worried."

Willow's words to the others washed over her, barely comprehended. She couldn't stop thinking about it. He hadn't said no, but what he had said had been a pretty big negatory. Oh god, please, no. I don't wanna think about this. She couldn't get the image out of her head. The look of panic in his eyes as Spike had punched her.

"Buffy? Buffy, are you okay?"

Buffy blinked in confusion. Willow was standing right in front of her. When had Willow come over to her? She'd been sitting at the table with the others just a second ago.

"I…." Buffy trailed off, looking down at the statuette in her hand.

She didn't want to do this. She didn't want them to know what she'd done. She didn't want to know what she'd done. Maybe she wouldn't have to tell them? She'd just hand over the doohickey and have them do the research thing and break the spell. She had to still be under it. It was the only way what she'd done afterwards made any sense.

"Buffster?"

Xander was there now, standing next to Willow. Buffy actually saw Giles's movement as he joined the others. They were all looking at her, even Anya, who had stayed at the table with a book of crossword puzzles. Why were they looking at her? Did they know? No. No, they couldn't know. She hadn't told them, and there was no way Spike could have. She'd made sure of that.

Was that why she'd done all that? Maybe it wasn't an effect of the spell, after all. She felt a small burst of hope, but then realized that it didn't explain everything. The gag, yes, and the chains, but not the other stuff.

She was vaguely aware of her surroundings as she was led farther into the store and gently pushed down into a chair. The door opened, and a Riley shape came in making Riley-shaped noises. Then there was a Riley-shaped smell as he tried to hug her. She could tell he'd been playing basketball. He was all gross and humid and sweaty. And not the good "we just had sex all night" kind of sweaty. He reeked.

The smell brought her to her senses and she stood up before he could finish wrapping his arms around her. He gave her a hurt puppy dog look of confusion, but she didn't have time to deal with his feelings. She was a potential danger to everyone until she figured out what was wrong with her and put a stop to it. She'd ra… done something bad to Spike, and she didn't even like him. She didn't want to think of what she might do to Riley.

"Giles, I need research done on this," she said, handing him the statuette. "I need to know what kind of spells it's used for and how to reverse them."

"That's a Kevary idol," Anya suddenly offered, sounding excited. "The So'voriku use them in their fertility ritual."

Everyone stared at the ex-vengeance demon, but she just went back to doing crossword puzzles. Buffy felt the urge to shake her and make her explain. Fertility ritual? She'd gotten caught up in some stupid fertility ritual?

"What does the ritual do?" she demanded.

Anya frowned and looked annoyed. "It's orgasm stuff. Xander doesn't like it when I talk about orgasms in front of everyone."

"Ahn, honey," Xander said, taking the puzzle book away from her. "We need to know what this thing is. It's okay to talk about it."

Her annoyed look transferred to her boyfriend. "Your rules are very arbitrary and confusing," she huffed before glancing back at Buffy. "It's a fertility ritual I found while looking for something to spice up our sex life. It seemed very promising until I got to the part about guaranteed pregnancy."

Buffy suddenly felt like she was going to pass out. Guaranteed pregnancy? No, no, no, no. She couldn't be pregnant. No, no, no, no. She felt blindly for the chair and dropped down into it with a thump.

"Good lord," Giles murmured softly.

Then her watcher was suddenly kneeling beside her, gently patting her hand. Riley was standing at her other side a moment later, his hand a heavy weight on her shoulder.

"What…" Buffy began hoarsely, "what all does the ritual do? Explain the whole thing."

"Um… well, So'voriku are sexual but genderless," Anya explained in a matter of fact tone. "The ritual uses a sexual act to open up the essences of two beings. The dominant partner becomes sexually aggressive while the submissive one becomes attuned and sensitized to the touch of their partner.

"During the sexual act, their essences are mingled to form an embryo that's tucked into a sort of expandable pocket dimension with a physical presence inside the submissive partner. The orgasms are supposed to be quite spectacular, which was why I was interested in it."

"It doesn't sound as if you've anything to worry about," Giles said in obvious relief, squeezing her hand reassuringly and smiling. "The ritual seems to require two beings to be effective."

"Spike was there," Buffy said absently, Anya's words crashing together in her mind. Genderless, sexually aggressive, and submissive partner swirled together to form a disturbing realization.

Willow's gasp of dismayed sympathy overlapped with Riley and Xander both insisting they would stake the vampire. Rage exploded through her like a wild beast at the thought of them dusting Spike. It was a familiar rage. It's what she had felt last night when she'd slapped the lit cigarette out of Spike's trembling hand before grabbing the entire pack and crushing it. It was what had fueled the savage beat down as she'd taken the flask from his pocket and yelled at him about disgusting poisons.

"No one is killing Spike," she snarled, Riley's hand knocked from her shoulder as she surged to her feet. She clenched her fists to keep herself from using them.

"Buffy, he raped you," Riley said harshly. "Hostile Seventeen is an animal, and he needs to be put down."

"He, he didn't do it on purpose," Willow said, looking at Buffy with anxious compassion. "The magic made him do it. That's what Buffy's thinking about. Right, Buffy?"

"It doesn't matter if there was magic, Will," Xander snapped. "If he'd bothered to try, he could have stopped himself. But he didn't. He's a rapist, and he needs to pay for it. He needs to dust once and for all."

Buffy's rage died away as she hugged herself, Xander's words hitting her like weighted stones and making her feel small and sick. Then he got to the part about Spike needing to dust, and the rage flared back to life.

"Don't. You. Touch. Him," she grated out through clenched teeth. She wanted to punch him. She felt like screaming at him and clueing him in to the time he tried to rape her while under the influence of the hyena spell.

"After the ritual, the dominant partner becomes insanely protective of the baby," Anya said suddenly. The look she gave Buffy was both knowing and curious at the same time.

"That doesn't explain why Buffy's defending him," Riley said bitterly. "What is it with you and the monsters? How could you just let him get away with doing that to you?"

A shouting match broke out at that point, Giles and Xander yelling at Riley while the ex-commando gave as good as he got. Buffy didn't even try to follow it. She was too busy thinking of Anya's words and the implications. Was that why she'd done what she'd done? Had she been trying to protect her baby from Spike's nasty vices?

"Hey!" Willow yelled, the volume and anger of her normally soft voice cutting through the shouting. "You're just upsetting Buffy. That isn't good for her or the baby."

"I'm not pregnant," Buffy said quietly into the sudden silence.

"Buffy." Giles gently took her hand again. His voice was compassionate as he spoke to her. "I know you don't want to believe it, but if the ritual does as Anya indicated…. I'm sorry, but denial will do you no good."

"She's not in denial," Anya said. "She isn't pregnant, which you all should have realized."

Giles frowned and looked at her. "I don't understand. You said pregnancy was guaranteed."

"Oh, someone got pregnant." Buffy smiled, but it was a twisted, bitter expression. She kept her eyes locked on Xander as she continued, watching as realization hit and the blood drained from his face. "It just wasn't me. And Spike isn't the rapist."