By Ten
RATING: NC17
PAIRING: Spike/Baby/Cement Block (i.e. anyone else around)
SUMMARY: Challenge #3 from the Babyverse @ http://www.babyverse.com
CHALLENGE SPECIFICS: "Write a story in the Babyverse. The first line must be "//Baby looked at her doctor in disbelief. "There ain't no way in hell I'm pregnant!" // You take it from there.
DISCLAIMER: All characters belong to the god that is Joss Whedon and WB, UPN, Mutant Enemy and some other people, but not me. The Babyverse belongs to Ebony Silvers, who is the goddess of all things Baby, and I adore her endlessly for letting me play with her toys!
ACKNOWLEGEMENTS: Gracious thanks to Esme for her lovely graphic! This story is lovingly dedicated to all the angst-addicted fans of the Krewe, and in loving memory of my sweet Kai.
A NOTE ABOUT THE AU: This AU deviates from the Jossverse timeline beginning in Season 2 before Angel can kill Jenny Calender. Spike leaves town with a woman from another dimension (who he calls simply "Baby") and they travel cross country together settling in New Orleans. Here he endorses a more "noble" vampire existence, hunting only criminals from which to feed with his "children" being raised with a code of ethics and values as well as a hefty dose of parental love. They are being groomed to become productive and respected members of society. Jean, Rene and Phillip are their sons, and Claudia is their only daughter at this time. For more detailed information about the AU, please go here
August 2001
CHAPTER 2 "Wes, I have a mystery for you to solve. Have your books handy?" Spike leaned against the wall of the building as he spoke into the payphone around the corner from their warehouse flat. He'd had little difficulty sneaking out. Baby was exhausted both physically and emotionally. If memory served him, she would be exhausted for quite some time. He had taken the chance to begin the research of how this had happened. He wanted to be happy about it. Baby having a baby ... what he hoped would be HIS baby, though sensibility told him that was just not possible.
CHAPTER 3 Baby sat in the garden just past dusk, staring at her reflection in the small pool surrounded with lush greenery and foliage. Things had moved quickly for them in the week since she had been to the doctor. Spike, refusing to have the baby be born in a warehouse, set about getting them into a proper house. And what a house it was! Baby had been stunned at not only how quickly it had been found, but how quickly they had settled into the new place. It was beautiful and lush, an intimate, inviting place with trees and shrubs, peppered with a fountain and small pool, a brick pathway and a few secluded benches. She had loved it the moment she saw it. When she expressed that to Spike, he presented her with the keys, having already obtained it, knowing that it was the perfect home for the Master of New Orleans and his Pride. Baby had been overwhelmed. Again.
CHAPTER 4 The weeks that followed brought a flurry of activity and anticipation as the household began preparations for the arrival of a new life. A room was prepared, furniture acquired. And there was a great deal of discussion amongst the family as to how the baby would be treated, how the child would fit into the family, who would act as parents, and what safety procedures should be taken should anyone notice the child begin to smell like food rather than as a part of the Pride. Vampirism aside, it was a normal home excited to be welcoming a new addition.
CHAPTER 5 René sat staring at the bench where Baby had slept until all light had left the sky and starlight began to throw shimmering silver coins into the fountain. He was deliriously happy and absolutely devastated. His heart was full and empty at the same time. She loved him. He felt it in every move she made, every touch of her lips, every breath she breathed into him. She loved him. She carried his child. He loved her. He was miserable beyond words.
CHAPTER 6 Baby awoke to a clap of thunder that almost shook the house. She wasn't sleeping well anyway, caught between a wave of nausea and thoughts of René that she couldn't seem to get past. As happy as she was with Spike, there was something about René that beckoned to her. She had tried to put it off on the fact that her baby was biologically his, but somehow, even in her hormone-ridden brain, she knew there was more to it than that.
CHAPTER 1
Baby looked at her doctor in disbelief. "There ain't no way in hell I'm pregnant!" She couldn't blink; she couldn't even breathe. Her hair was an almost ghastly shade of red, and she dressed 15 years too young, with tight jeans and a low, clingy blouse that broadcast her substantial bosom. Her eyes were the most extraordinary shade of gold, and her complexion was far paler than most women, even for the south. Right now, though, her face was red, and she was very obviously upset. It was as if she had been hit by an eighteen-wheeler speeding down the freeway. She was gobsmacked.
"I had hoped this would be good news." The doctor paused, Baby looking at her with a 'You're shitting me' kind of expression. "Well, perhaps not. Either way, all tests are positive, so congratulations are in order."
Baby still hadn't breathed, but the doctor continued in her business-like manner, "Here is a prescription for prenatal vitamins and I want you to make a return appointment in six weeks. We'll schedule other prenatal tests at that time and arrange for you to have a specialist since you are...," she checked the chart, an eyebrow lifted in surprise, "um, substantially over 35." She held out the prescription to Baby, feeling awkward with how long it dangled in the air like so much unwanted rubbish. Feeling rushed, the doctor set the prescription on the counter and left quietly, leaving the stunned woman staring off into space.
Baby finally began to breathe and mechanically got dressed, picking up the prescription and shoving it into her pocket before exiting the office. She stopped at the counter, made the appointment, then passed out cold in the waiting room.
***************
Baby awoke to Claudia's concerned expression. The young, black woman had accompanied Baby at her father's request and was now busy holding a cool cloth to her adoptive mother's head while a nurse checked her vital signs. She shoved everyone away with surprising strength and sat up.
"I'm fine." She stood up solidly. "Will you stop with the hovering?"
Claudia waved the others away and stood nearby just in case. She didn't know what was wrong with Baby, but she knew that her mother did not want to give even the slightest impression of weakness.
"Let's get out of here," Baby spat. She almost ran from the clinic.
Neither woman spoke as they drove back to the warehouse that was their temporary home; they didn't even listen to music. Claudia waited for Baby to make the first move, not wanting to intrude on whatever she was dealing with. About four blocks from home, Baby asked her to stop the car. "I need to walk."
"Are you sure you're okay? Do you want me to come with..."
Baby cut her off sharply. "No! Really, I'm fine. I just need to walk."
When Claudia arrived alone at the warehouse, Spike was standing just inside the front door. He had obviously been pacing. Before he could jump to conclusions, she explained that Baby wanted to take a walk, then she tried to settle him down some. They went into the makeshift kitchen for tea. It amused her that the Big Bad was always up for a cuppa tea when he was stressed and worried. He quizzed her on what was wrong. Claudia replied truthfully that she didn't know, but explained that Baby seemed okay and just needed some alone time. In the busy household, that was understandable; humans could feel claustrophobic sometimes, even around those they loved.
Spike accepted everything she said, but still glanced toward the entryway every five minutes just to see if she had returned, as if he couldn't hear or feel her walking up the sidewalk. He wanted to go find her, he didn't like her being out alone after dark and he was a bit miffed at his daughter for letting Baby talk her into this. No matter what Claudia had said, he knew something was wrong.
****************
A NOTE ABOUT THE AU: This AU deviates from the Jossverse timeline beginning in Season 2 before Angel can kill Jenny Calender. Spike leaves town with a woman from another dimension (who he calls simply "Baby") and they travel cross country together settling in New Orleans. Here he endorses a more "noble" vampire existence, hunting only criminals from which to feed with his "children" being raised with a code of ethics and values as well as a hefty dose of parental love. They are being groomed to become productive and respected members of society. Jean, Rene and Phillip are their sons, and Claudia is their only daughter at this time.
Baby was absolutely baffled. It just wasn't possible that at 44 she could be pregnant, particularly considering her husband was a vampire. Vampires couldn't have children; their seed was dead.
Since she had crossed into this dimension, her life had been one series of adventures after another. When she literally popped into Spike's life at a crucial time, she had no idea of the changes that would occur in both of them. In the two and a half years since they had left Sunndale, the pair had traveled throughout North America, finally setting in New Orleans. There weren't a great many places where a human and a vampire could coexist easily and unnoticed, but New Orleans was one of the best with its accepted mixture of cultures and history. There were some absolutes in the world
She walked for close to an hour before she realized she had gotten herself into the cemetery. Alone. At night. "Shit, girl, what are you thinking?" she chided herself. She whirled around and headed back toward the warehouse and ran right into an obviously hungry fledgling. He growled. She froze. He growled again. She growled back. He tilted his head to one side, completely confused. A human woman? Growling like a vampire? Before he could regroup for his attack and feed, he dissolved right before her. As the dust settled, a raven-haired man was revealed, still holding a stake menacingly in his hand, the flush of the kill still on his face.
"René!" Baby threw herself into his arms, hugging him tightly. "Your timing is impeccable, how did you know?"
He answered her question with a question, "Miss Baby, what you doin' in the cemetery alone at night?"
"Oh René, I wasn't paying attention and just wandered over here. Damned good thing you were here to save my sorry... oh, hello Jean Claude." She hadn't noticed his brother standing next to him, his hand on René's shoulder. He nodded to Baby, then turned his attention back to his just-past-fledgling-stage brother.
"Good job, René. That's exactly right. You don't have to warn them, certainly not when they are attacking, and you don't have to explain to them what they're doing wrong. They won't understand. They are vicious, animalistic, and would just as soon kill you as look at you. And he'd have killed Baby in the next three seconds if you hadn't moved as quickly as you did."
René looked a bit puzzled, as if he were trying to figure out some mystery.
"It's okay, I know it's confusing, but you have to understand; they are not like us. They don't have the likes of Spike and Baby here to guide them and keep them from the dark places and the killing of innocents. We're lucky, we are." He smiled at Baby, then wrapped a protective arm around her. "We need to get you back home. The Master'll be worried."
Without another word, she headed back toward the warehouse, the strong yet gentle arms of her new sons around her.
She hadn't believed it could be this wonderful. It was a rushed decision when Spike began making childer for them, rescuing Jean Claude as they had, making the decision to turn him rather than see him die at the hands of a criminal. It had been a good decision and spawned the turning of René, who, aside from Spike, was the most beautiful man Baby had ever seen in her life. He was like a Renaissance painting, perfect and striking and difficult to look away from. Baby had caught herself staring at him more than once. It had amused Spike to catch her himself, gazing into those teal-colored eyes. Spike himself had been affected by the sheer attractiveness of the man. They were both more than pleased when René had turned easily and adapted quickly to his new role and his new way of existence.
Baby leaned her head into René's shoulder as they walked, holding both men as tightly as they held onto her all the way back to the warehouse.
********************
"What were you thinking??" Spike's voice was edgy and tinged with fear. If something had happened to her, he didn't know what he would do. She was so much a part of his life and his heart already that he didn't even want to think about life without her, or unlife without her. He held onto her so tightly she could scarcely breathe and finally had to push away from him a little to gasp for breath.
"I...I'm sorry. I just wasn't thinking. I needed to walk and to think about ... well ... things, and the next thing I knew I was..." He enveloped her in another bone-crushing hug before she could even finish. The crystal blue of his eyes flashed at René and Jean Claude. Gratefulness shone from him like a light in the darkness. His sons had saved his love. If he needed any confirmation that beginning their family had been a good idea, their actions tonight had proved that it was indeed the right thing to do. His smile was for them alone as he held tightly to the now-trembling woman in his arms. With a nod from him, they disappeared.
Spike scooped Baby up into his arms and easily carried her up to the loft that served as their bedroom. The place had really taken shape over the last few months, but he knew that soon they'd be forced to move into a proper house. He wanted it that way. He wanted it for her.
As he settled her onto the bed, he looked lovingly into her eyes. "Luv, don't ever do that again, okay? I don't even want to ... " He stopped, curiosity creasing between his eyes as he tilted his head to one side. Then he withdrew from her, standing over her, evaluating her with an intense expression that almost scared her. As if ... he knew. She felt her cheeks go red, burning her face then spreading down her neck and onto her chest. He knew. He was trying to figure it out, but he knew. Damn those vampire senses. She had wanted to discover how it happened before he even knew it had. Damn.
Their eyes met in understanding and Spike stiffened. Suddenly he couldn't even look at her, turning his back to her as if her eyes held the most hideous betrayal imaginable. She sank into the bed, trembling. Minutes passed as if they were hours, with no sign or acknowledgement from Spike and hardly more than a few breaths from Baby. She was suddenly terrified. Terrified that he would leave her, that he would think she had been with someone else and allowed, or even wanted, this to happen.
Without facing her, he finally spoke, his voice hard and cold. "Whose is it?"
"What?!" She didn't believe he was really asking this. Of course she hadn't been with anyone else but him. How could he think otherwise? There had been no one but him since the moment she arrived in Sunnydale, how could he possibly think she could ever be with another man after being with him.
He turned toward her, his eyes suddenly an icy blue that almost froze her heart. "Who has touched you? Who has been with you? It's not a difficult question." The weight of his sarcasm was too much to bear. Tears formed in her eyes, even though she willed them not to.
"No one. No one, Spike. How could I ever be with anyone else?" Her voice was small and fragile, as if making it any louder would cause her to shatter entirely. She didn't know what to do; she didn't know what to say. She just sat there on their bed, silently shaking her head and trembling.
His expression melted into compassion. He could tell from one look at her that she'd been with no other but him. He knew it in his heart even before his mind caught on. She was his. The mark on her neck, the ring on her hand said it loud and clear to the world. She was his. Her reaction, her confusion, and the pain she felt inside that he could both see and feel announced to him that there had been no other for her but him. He sat down next to her, taking her hands in his, caressing her palms with his thumbs. Tears began to splash on their intertwined hands.
"Shhhhhh, Baby, don't cry," he cooed at her. "We'll figure it out. Don't cry, dove; it's okay."
In another part of the cavernous warehouse Jean Claude relaxed. He'd sensed the other presence as well, but he wasn't sure what it had meant at the time and had planned to ask Spike about it later. Now the truth was revealed. The problem was, what truth? What did this mean and how did it happen?
René touched him on the shoulder, startling him. "What's wrong, Brother?" René was still shaking from the emotion running through the place. He was still sensitive to it. It lessened each day, but any time there was an emotional upheaval of some kind in their family, he could feel it as if it were happening to him. He had spent the last few minutes feeling alone and betrayed and worried, and he had no idea why or how.
"It's all right, René." Jean Claude's voice was soothing. "Daddy had a scare is all. It's okay now. Let's go out." He knew it would be best for René to get some distance from what was happening, and it was obvious Baby and Spike needed privacy. Grabbing Claudia on the way, they headed out into the night to rescue and to feed and to get far away from the unspoken announcement their parents had for them.
"Always. What can I do for you, Spike?" Wes was uncharacteristically cheerful. Things must be dreadfully dull in Los Angeles.
"This is just between us, mate." Spike was firm.
"I understand. What's happened?"
Spike began explaining the situation, their confusion, and wondered if there was any way this could really have happened or if ... he didn't want to think about the what if. If Baby had lied to him, if all this time she had been sleeping with a human behind his back, he didn't know what he would do. He couldn't even think about it.
Wes had three texts open on his desk within seconds, finding the entire affair fascinating. Spike reminded him that that wasn't exactly the word he'd have preferred he use.
"Oh, my apologies. I only meant there are no records of something like this happening, only hypotheticals and theories. It's rather exciting to research."
Spike could hear pages being leafed through quickly alongside grunts of displeasure and the occasional ring of, "Hmmmmm." He was losing patience quickly.
"Wes? Could you hurry this up, mate? I don't want the nipper to be born before we know how he came about."
"He? Are you sure it's a he?" Wes could hardly contain his enthusiasm.
"No, mate, just an expression. I didn't think to ... well ... no, I don't know. What have you found?" There was that impatience again.
"Ahhhhhhhhh, maybe this will.... Spike?"
"What???" He was downright testy now.
"Spike, Angel says you have been making childer there in New Orleans."
"Yes, but I fail to see what that has to..."
Wes cut him off. "Are you, well, are you following the usual traditions? I mean to say, are you..."
"Oh! Well, yes. If there's one thing Angelus taught me well, it was how to bond properly with a fledgling, only I skip his favorite parts, the torture, torment, humiliation, and emotional whipping." Bitterness rang plainly in his tone. "Why?"
"Well, it seems, um . . ." Spike could almost hear the former Watcher blush.
"What??? Just tell me! Jesus! Mother of God, Wes!"
"Well, does Baby join you in these sessions?"
Spike was stunned. "Well, yes. I mean, she's their mama; she is a part of everything. First thing I teach them is to love and protect her, and when we ... join and feed, yes, she is with us, though obviously she doesn't feed, still she.... " He wasn't quite getting it and that made him even more anxious. "What are you saying, Wes? Jesus! Just spit it out!"
Wes took a long, deep breath, then tried to sound as clinical and detached as he could. "Spike, sperm can live inside a body for several days after death. If, if you, if she, if you all joined in that way shortly after a childe's making, it's possible that..."
"Jesus Christ!" Spike stared at the receiver, speechless for a few moments.
"Spike? Spike??" came the concerned voice from the other end.
When he spoke, it was slowly and deliberately, "Are you telling me that Baby is pregnant by one of our childer?"
"Yes, I am." Wes was a little hesitant. "It seems the most logical explanation, outside infidelity, which you have dismissed as not possible. It is most likely the most recently made, since you and Baby both would have noticed signs of this sooner."
Silence fell between them for a good long while before Spike finally spoke again, his voice brittle. "Uh, thank you, Wes. Thanks for your help." He hung up and slowly began walking back to the warehouse.
On the other end of the phone, Wesley Wyndham-Pryce stared at the receiver now loudly proclaiming that the other end of the call had terminated.
"What's up, Wes?" Cordelia looked at him with concern. His eyes met hers with an odd mixture of wonder and disbelief.
"You're not going to believe this."
***********************
When Baby awoke, she felt warm and safe and protected in her husband's arms. She never knew he had left. Spike held onto her gently, breathing in the scent of her hair as he buried his face in it. She stirred a little more, kissing him lightly on the chest as she nuzzled further into him.
"Mmmmm, you feel so good, so cool," she spoke into him, enjoying the sensation of his breath in her hair and rewarding it with tiny kisses on his skin. He tasted salty, which seemed so inviting right now, and she began licking him, tasting him, sending prickles of pleasure through them both. She began traveling down the slope of his taut stomach, her tongue quickly twisting and twirling in the short, curly hairs of his groin. He settled back with an unneeded sigh and gave himself over to her. She had this incredible ability to make every kiss, every touch of her tongue a delightful mix of love and sex, want and desire ... and he truly loved what she could do when she went down on him.
Her tongue worked its magic, stroking him, swirling around the tip, slipping inside the foreskin and pushing it back to reach the extraordinarily sensitive head inside. He gasped as she used her hand to pull it back completely and wrapped her lips around him, digging her tongue into the little, precum-filled slit. A moan of pleasure escaped her, as if this was the one thing she wanted most in the world, to devour this part of him. She gently began to suck him and move further down his shaft with each pulse, licking beneath her tightened lips and teasing his balls with her fingertips as she pressed on. He tried to hold back, to make it last, but she was too thorough in playing his body and he knew he couldn't hold out much longer.
She stopped abruptly and sat up, looking at him with fear in her eyes. Unannounced, she leaped from the bed and dashed to the bathroom, slamming the door behind her.
"Bloody Hell," Spike murmured under his breath, as he heard her retch on the other side of the door.
*******************
"Pet? You okay?" It had been quite some time and he had finally gotten up and dressed. A puking wife puts a squelch on a good shag right quick. He rapped on the door lightly. "Baby? You okay, luv?" The sounds of vomiting had stopped, which was good, but she hadn't ventured out of the bathroom yet. When she finally did, she was vampirish pale, wiping her mouth on a bit of tissue and visibly a bit shaky on her feet. Spike lifted her effortlessly into his arms and placed her gently on the bed once more. He was suddenly very aware of how dingy everything was here.
Baby had made quite a home out of the bits and pieces they had found around town, curtains and furniture and appliances and things that made the vast space into a home. Through their creative efforts, the painted walls were more a masterpiece of color and form than flat and gray concrete. More than one wall had likenesses of the Master, his Lady, and the childer. Still, it was less than satisfactory for the Master of New Orleans, and totally unsuitable for his pregnant consort. New arrangements would have to be made.
He looked down at Baby with affection and concern shining in his eyes. She responded with a brave outer appearance, but he could see she was worried and physically miserable, not to mention confused as Hell.
"Spike ... I...."
"Shhhhhh, luv." He placed two fingers on her lips. "Rest some. It doesn't matter. We'll talk about it later."
She pushed herself up on her elbows. "No, we need to talk about it now. I feel better, much better, I promise. And there's no way I could possibly sleep right now, the situation is too ... um ... upsetting?" She turned the last word into a question. She had no idea why Spike was so calm about it, how he couldn't help but doubt her when such a suspicious thing had happened. She felt stronger, now that the offending contents of her stomach had made their hasty exit, and she needed to talk about this and sort it all out, and then decide what to do about it, if anything.
"Okay then." Spike stretched out next to her, his hand unconsciously resting on her abdomen. He settled in for a moment before becoming uncomfortable. He jerked his hand back, then tried to appear casual about it by stroking her arm affectionately.
"Spike?" Nothing escaped her attention. She knew him too well.
"It's okay, dove, I could ... it's ... it's the heartbeat. I could feel it against my hand."
Baby visibly blanched. She hadn't expected to be that far along. She hadn't expected there to be a discernable heartbeat, even to a vampire. Her forehead visibly wrinkled in thought and concern and Spike found himself calming her with cool, languid strokes across it. "It's okay, pet. It'll be okay."
She wanted to sink down into him, drown herself in his embrace and his love and forget all these worrisome, foolish thoughts about babies and pregnancy and how it happened and what she could or should do about it. She wanted ... so many things, but instead she sat up and looked at him incredulously, as if he had uttered the most foolish words of all. It was as if she was outside herself watching a silly woman make a fuss about nothing, but she couldn't stop herself.
"What are you talking about? Okay? You think this is okay? You think everything will be okay? How in Hell is that possible? There is nothing okay about this. By no stretch of even your vampire imagination could there be anything about this that could be described as okay! OKAY??"
Spike froze. Apparently trying to reassure and comfort her was a bad idea, though he was lost as to why. He wanted to sink into the bed and disappear entirely, scolding himself for upsetting her, and still not really sure what it was about what he said which set her off. But for whatever reason, set off she was, and there didn't appear to be a damned thing he could do about it now. He felt every move he made or every word he spoke would cause further explosion. He couldn't leave, that would no doubt be interpreted as abandoning her; he couldn't really stay either, feeling he was an irritant here in her face. So he remained where he was, frozen and fearful, something which certainly didn't usually describe the Master of New Orleans.
Baby saw his shocked expression and dissolved into tears, her shoulders and chest heaving before Spike could even get to her and envelop her once again. "I don't know what's wrong with me. It's not your fault; why am I yelling at you? It's just.... It's just ... dammit, I don't know what's wrong."
He dared to speak. "I do," he murmured quietly.
Tear-streaked eyes turned to him, melting his heart for the thousandth time and reminding him that there was nothing he wouldn't do for this woman. He was so entirely hers that it would take a thousand unplanned pregnancies to drive him away ... though he realized that was a rather odd way to think of that.
"I know what's wrong." He kissed the tears from the outside corners of her eyes, letting their saltiness linger on his tongue as he whispered softly. "You're pregnant." There, he'd said it. The words hadn't been spoken out loud yet, not by her, and not by him, but there they were, hanging in the room between them as an explanation of what was changing around them that they couldn't control. "Things are different, changing, and it's overwhelming for me; I can't even imagine how much more unsettling it must be for you." He continued stroking her and kissing her lightly, feeling each touch relax her a little more, taking away the fears and worries and confusion which seemed to shroud her.
"But how, Spike? How is this possible? You know I haven't gone outside our family, right? You know that, right?" She was suddenly insecure. Perhaps he did doubt her; perhaps this was all a ruse to get her to confess to something she hadn't even done. It was diabolical and manipulative ... and so totally not Spike-like. She started to relax again. All it had taken was his soft, reassuring smile, and the cool brush of his lips across hers. No. There was no doubt from him.
"I know how it happened and I know whose child it is." He said it casually, as if he were reading the last page of a mystery novel and he had known the criminal all along.
Baby looked at him in disbelief. "Would you care to enlighten me?" There was almost a little hint of that familiar sarcasm to her remark. It made him smile outright and lean away from her so that he could look into her eyes and she could see into his.
"It's René's."
"What??!" She was stunned. "No, Spike, that's not possible, it just isn't! He's a vampire, like you, and there's no way he could, I mean, I know we have been together, in those moments when you bring us all together and you insist that the childer love me. And they do." A little surprise thrill ran through her smile then. "They do so love me, all of them, but I don't see how it's possible. They are vampires. It's just not...." He shut her up with a kiss, deep and penetrating and seductive and oddly calming. When she'd settled down a bit, he began the explanation, he told her what Wesley had found out and how all this was possible. Because of the timing involved, he was sure it was René's, and after his thorough explanation, so was Baby.
"Besides," he said casually with the last confirmation, "you've not bled since René was turned." Baby tilted her head curiously, causing Spike to stifle a tiny laugh. "Baby, pet, just because you try to hide it from me sometimes, doesn't mean I don't notice when you're bleeding. Cor, it's so damned intoxicating it makes my head swim every time I'm around you then, even across the room. But, you've not had one since René came to be with us. I should have realized. I should have known." He stroked her cheek with the back of his fingers.
"How could you when I didn't even know, Spike?" She went away in reflection for a moment, then came back. "What on earth are we going to do?"
Spike grinned like a child on Christmas morning, his eyes sparkling in a way she had never seen and absolute joy leaping from him like sparks. "We're gonna have a baby." And just like that, it was decided, and there was happiness and joy and lovemaking well into the next day ... alone, just the two of them... and the unseen third.
As she curled up on her favorite bench, her mind drifted to the life moving about inside her. Odd that she hadn't noticed it sooner. She found that, now that she knew of the child, she was suddenly acutely aware of its presence in her body and in her mind, as if she could speak with it and it with her. She was lost in thought and sensation when René joined her. Not wanting to startle her, he stood silently until she acknowledged him with an almost shy smile.
"René ... " She couldn't help but smile at the beautiful childe Spike had created for them, another incredible and valuable member of their ever-growing family. He was by far her favorite addition so far. His ocean blue-green eyes seemed to look straight into her soul and perch there, absorbing her and radiating love for her all at the same time. There was an odd sadness to him, more hidden and seemingly deeper than the pain Jean Claude still nursed at the loss of his family. Still, Jean Claude had been known to go watch his wife and children and see to their safety from afar. He found great comfort in that, yet René found no comfort anywhere, as if he had no family prior to his new life with their Pride. Yet that silent sadness still seemed to permeate him.
Her smile warmed him like the sun he still missed so much. He basked in it, letting her fill him with her own brand of Baby sunshine, a shower of UV rays that anchored him and made him feel whole and an important part of his new family. The situation, however, obviously made him more than a little uncomfortable.
"Excusez-moi, Maman." He lowered his eyes, realizing that speaking to her was more difficult than he had thought it would be. He couldn't bear to look at her now, he was too embarrassed and she looked far too glorious for him to even so much as glance at without gasping. He pushed at a loose stone with his foot, causing a scraping sound that filled his awkward silence while he gathered his thoughts.
"What is it, René?" Baby tried to lower her head enough to see his features. She could feel how uncomfortable he was, but she so enjoyed looking at him and she wanted him to feel he could come talk to her about anything.
"It's P-Papa, Maman," he stammered a little. He reminded Baby of a 13-year-old boy worried about confessing to some wrongdoing. "Papa, he ... he told me what happened, Maman. About ..."
Baby's eyes grew wide as her face flushed a deep crimson. "Oh. Uh, René, I didn't realize he was going to tell you so soon. I thought, well, I thought we would tell you together before we told anyone else and ... "
René fell to his knees, his hands clasped tightly in his lap, sorrow and regret bleeding out from him like a wounded animal. "I'm so sorry, Maman, I, I didn't mean to, I mean, I didn't ... Je n'ai pas voulu dire pour le faire, il étais un accident, je suis si désolé, je suis si désolé, s'il vous plait pardonnez-moi...." Unintelligible French came pouring from him, a fountain of remorse aimed at her and the situation. She looked down at him with a strange, maternal calm, stroking his hair and cooing softly to him. She had no idea what he was saying, but she knew he felt awful for it.
"Shhhhh, René, no, no, my sweet René, it's okay, really, I'm okay, shhhhhh." After a few moments of petting and her soothing words, he began to calm down. She traced his chiseled jawline with her fingertips, lifting on his chin, forcing him to look up at her. Her eyes settled on his, the rich color washing over her like calm waves on the shore. She felt a rush of emotion that caused tears to form in her eyes, not yet spilling over, but it took all of her strength to hold them inside. He tensed beneath her touch, seeing her eyes about to overflow.
Not wanting him to see her tears and feel worse, Baby placed his head in her lap, softly stroking his deep ebony hair as a liturgy of apology tumbled from his lips, jumbled and tragic and in French. "Je suis désolé, Maman, je n'ai pas su ceci me produirais, un bébé, comment peux je faire un bébé quand je suis mort, mais Papa l'a indiqué était moi qui l'a fait et je ne comprends pas, mais s'il vous plait ne m'envoie pas loin, Maman, je suis si désolé, je ne le fera pas encore."
"Shhhhh, René, it's okay, shhhhhhhh."
Spike quietly joined them, a slight smile turning on his lips. "He doesn't understand, dove; for some reason he thinks this is a bad thing."
Baby looked down at the beautiful man, his sobs cooling the folds of her skirt, then turned her eyes up toward her husband again. She shook her head pitifully, "No, my Spike, he doesn't understand, but we will let him know, won't we? We'll tell him how happy this makes us both, how much it will mean to our family? Won't we?"
René turned his face up toward her, confusion registering on his handsome features. Both Baby and Spike were smiling down at him with love and affection and, oddly enough, gratitude.
"René," Spike said gently, "I tried to tell you before, this is good. No one is unhappy about this, in fact, we're thrilled. It makes our family even more a family."
"But cher Papa, you are not angry? Baby, I mean, Maman, having a baby that is from me? This does not make you angry?" The poor boy was so confused. He hadn't been a vampire very long yet and didn't quite understand the family dynamics of bonding or the importance of sexual contact amongst them all. Though a pregnancy of this kind was definitely unusual, there was documentation of it happening before and these were certainly unusual circumstances to be sure. Spike struggled with some way to reassure René that not only was he not angry, that he really liked the idea. Baby found a way.
With gentle hands she guided René's lips to her own, both drinking him in and bestowing him with love and appreciation for what he had unintentionally given to her ... the chance to be a mother again, to carry life within her own body, give birth to it and nurture it and be what she had once been long ago, full with the joy of motherhood, the ecstasy of holding a precious life in her arms again, to feel it suckle at her breasts and know that this life came from her and came from love. She parted her lips, inviting him into her mouth. He tentatively entered, even more nervous under the watchful eye of his sire and unsure what his place should be here, but enticed and welcomed by the warm, inviting lips of the woman who now carried his child. René gave himself over to her and to the moment, confidence and reassurance embracing him just as his sire did. Spike, his arms around both his wife and his childe, pulled the three of them together in bone-crushing joy, a completion of their joining and his validation that the baby would be accepted as his.
Spike's lips interceded after a few moments as he tasted and licked the hungry lips of his wife. René withdrew slightly, but Spike held fast to him, not letting him leave, wanting him to be a part of this, wanting his childe, his son, to feel the belonging that being a part, a full part, of this family would mean. So far René was still learning the way of things, the way the Pride hunted and why, the general rules of how vampire families lived, and how to be respectful to his sire and protective of Baby. Spike, of course, had demanded first and foremost with all the children that they love and protect Baby. That was his first command of them, and it became the main purpose of their unlife to obey that command above all else. René had learned these lessons well, Jean Claude saw to that, ever the dutiful older brother, but René was not sure how he fit in now, now that Baby was with child, with HIS child.
As they remained there, Baby seated, René kneeling and Spike leaning over them both, the warmth and passion they each felt began to blossom like the night-blooming jasmine which surrounded the pond, fragrant and sweet and compelling. Baby's lips sought René's as her fingers intertwined in the blonde curls of her husband's hair. Spike pulled René in closer, nuzzling his childe's neck, licking his mark, sending shivers through René. It was an exhilarating sensation in itself, but even more so because it flashed the young vampire's mind back to the moment of his making, of his sire, of Baby holding him as the last of his life drained away and his new, immortal life began. He moaned audibly, prompting Baby to deepen her kiss, both her hands now touching and exploring his body just as Spike's hands began to explore hers. René fell into the vortex of their love, for each other and for him, his own hands, seemingly not his, touching and caressing both Baby and Spike, making the circle complete.
Slowly the trio sank onto the damp earth, the sound of crickets mingling with their sighs and moans of excitement. The stars acted as a blanket, showering them with the shimmering light and reflection of long-extinguished suns, making the pond sparkle like a silvery pool of moonlight. Lips moved away from lips and onto skin, buttons were unfastened, clothing shed until the three contrasting figures lay naked to the sky and each other. All had pale skin: Baby's was natural, the two men glowed with the pale complexion of bodies that no longer could be kissed by the sun. René's skin still had that olive hue which made him so exotic in appearance. The starlight made his eyes an even more piercing color, more like teal, as they reflected back at Spike and Baby. A soft, gentle hand appeared from nowhere, twirling fingertips in the plentiful crop of hair that spread across the expanse of his muscular chest. René gasped. He had never felt anything as wonderful as Baby's gentle touch, until the lips of his sire met his own. A low, satisfied growl vibrated through Spike's chest, spreading its resonance into René's as the sire stretched his full body next to that of his childe. Baby made it complete, straddling René's hips before laying down atop his chest, one hardened nipple pressing into him as the other was captured by the roving, hungry mouth of his sire.
René whimpered slightly when Spike's lips left his, prompting Baby to replace them with her own, once more finding a cool, welcoming home. René himself could hardly move; he didn't really want to. His arms were outstretched and wrapped around whichever body they encountered, holding the three of them together as their bodies and their mouths spoke of love and devotion and belonging. The constant thumping of Baby's heart against René's chest made him feel almost alive himself, the sensations he was experiencing reminding him that he was very far away from being dead. He was both devouring and being devoured as their hands and lips continued their explorations, the ever-present heat of Baby's sex a haunting temptation across his now-hard and eager cock. He moaned again, lost in the moment and lost in the two of them.
Baby felt Spike smile across the skin of her breast that in turn spread to her and from there to René. Their lips parted and the three of them gazed from one to the other, a meeting of eyes and hearts, both beating and not beating, and the smell of arousal so intoxicating that anyone entering the garden might pass out themselves.
Baby's heart sped up and with it her breathing. Spike and René joined in, though their breath was unneeded, their caresses and kisses becoming more frenetic and urgent.
Without warning René froze, his eyes flying wide in surprise. Grasping Baby by the shoulders he pushed her upright, her knees still hugging his ribs tightly, a look of confusion on her features. Spike pulled away as well, concerned for René, though at the moment more frustrated that their exchange had come to a screeching halt. René looked into Baby's eyes, his mouth unable to form words. He turned to Spike, still unable to speak, though his lips were moving and the wonder in his eyes almost knocked Spike over. The sire, catching on, gave his son a gentle smile and nodded.
"I ... I can hear it." Every syllable was wrapped in astonishment.
Spike nodded, his smile growing almost playful. "Yes, René, you can."
"I didn't know what it was at first but ... " His eyes turned back to Baby, joy replacing confusion. "I hear it, Maman, I can hear it."
Now it was her turn to look confused, until René's tentative hand waved across her waist and settled onto her stomach, where he placed it gently, palm against skin, fingers spread as if he were trying to feel as much of her beneath his hand as possible. Then it dawned on her. Her glistening eyes turned to Spike, a smile playing on her lips as well, then back to René. "The baby? You can hear the baby?"
"Yes, Maman." His voice was still like that of an excited child. "Yes, I can. It is faster, quieter, but I can hear it. It's ... it's ... merveilleux." He favored them with the most dazzling smile either of them had ever seen, pure joy, pure happiness framed in dark hair and eyes like the Mediterranean. Baby found herself hoping the child would have René's eyes and dark hair.
She turned a playful smile toward Spike, even as she spoke to René, "Wait until you FEEL it, sweet, sweet René." She pressed her lips to his again and shifted her body just enough so that René's hardness slipped inside her. Moving down onto him at a torturously slow pace, when she had taken in his full length, she remained there, her lips straining to remain linked to his, but her slight build not being quite tall enough to accommodate. Spike took over, covering Baby's lips with his own as his hand traced the muscles and curves of René's chest.
Rene gasped yet again. "Yes! Maman! I feel it ... it's amazing, I ... Mon Dieu ... it's-" Spike shifted again, his lips cutting off the words as one hand made its way down René's abdomen to the point where Baby's body engulfed his childe's. Soft fingertips searched their union, tracing the very wet folds of his wife that fully embraced René. Spike slipped his entire hand around the hilt of René's shaft, letting his thumb gently caress Baby's clit for just a moment, before squeezing ever-so-slightly on René. His lips moved across his son's cheek, leaving a trail of kisses until he settled near his ear. "This is a gift, my son, a gratitude for what you have given us, a privilege only to be enjoyed with me in attendance." Spike sucked on his earlobe for a moment, making René gasp yet again, before adding, "Do you understand?"
René responded with a low breathlessness that Baby could not hear, "Oui, cher Papa, je tu comprends. Merci, merci Papa."
Spike's voice took on a darker tone now, "Tres bien, René, parce que le jour oů je trouve toi ici sans moi serez votre durez." René's eyes went wide, a shadow of fear crossing his features. Spike's French was flawless, his message even more so .... the day Spike found them together without him would be René's last day.
"Oui, Papa, je tu comprends .... jamais, jamais sans toi." René shivered at the thought.
Spike's mouth covered René's again as he slipped one leg across his childe's chest, straddling him in front of Baby. Her arms were instantly around Spike's waist, her hands skillfully making their way to Spike's hard and eager cock, as she began to raise and lower over René .... pulling him deeply into her, then lifting until he was almost entirely out before slowly engulfing him yet again. Master and childe continued their kiss, Spike's back arched upward like a cat in the tight space while Baby handled him expertly and his tongue explored his childe's mouth. The three of them moved together with such passion and strength and understanding, it seemed like a brief moment before the trio cried out together in release ... their full joining splitting the cool night air, making even the stars shiver in reply.
Baby withdrew slightly. She spent time reading in the garden when she wasn't sleeping. Her usual sleep patterns, already disturbed from living with vampires, took on an even more odd pattern. She slept any time she needed to, day or night. The garden became her favorite place. It was quiet and she could be left to her thoughts and books, and it had the extra bonus of being far enough away that she didn't feel foolish talking to her unborn child. Unconsciously she knew that Spike could probably hear her a mile away, but she felt more comfortable having her seemingly one-sided conversations out of direct eye-shot and ear-shot.
Spike was a doting father already. It had been decided that as head of the household, he would be considered the child's father. René understood and accepted that decision. He had not been excluded from the discussion, so he felt a part of the final outcome; however, he suffered a twinge of regret. He had no children of his own and this was his only opportunity to be a father. But considering the vampire-human hybrid culture they were developing on their own, it would be too confusing for the child, and for outsiders, to understand a fledgling acting as father to the newborn. And being the father to the child of the Master's wife could cause a seniority problem amongst the childer. Jean Claude usually spoke for the childer and took the position as "first born" or first made. To declare René as father to the Consort's child would displace Jean Claude and put the birth order of the childer in turmoil, elevating René when he was still himself little more than a fledgling. That alone would be difficult, but to equate it to human standards, allowing René to act as father would be tantamount to him being declared Baby's mate, something which absolutely would not be tolerated when she was already the Consort of William the Bloody. The only solution was for René to step aside. It would hurt, he knew. It would hurt much more than he would ever let on to any of the others, but he would do it for the sake of his love for Spike and the Pride ... and Baby.
*****************
It happened again. Baby had been reading a book on the history of New Orleans she'd picked up at the library, and she'd fallen asleep in the sun again. She enjoyed getting out more lately, heading out into the city during the daylight to explore and find treasures of history, antiques, and books. The library had been like finding a gold mine, and she stocked up whenever she could. Spike grumbled about her going out alone, but she assured him she was quite safe, particularly during the day, and she would always be sure to let him know when she was leaving and when she returned, even if he was asleep. However, this time it was she who was asleep, stretched out on her favorite bench, her legs draped casually over the arm, the book she was reading resting on her chest.
René stood in the shadow and shade of the gallery that ran around the entire inner perimeter of the house. He watched from afar, knowing she was sleeping, the gentle rise and fall of the book on her chest giving her away. He could tell from the pink hue to her skin that she'd been out in the sunlight too long and he had tried to call to her quietly so as not to wake any of the others. His whisper was, unfortunately, inaudible to her human ears, but he was afraid to call to her any louder for fear the others would awaken and join him, ruining his moment alone with Baby, even though she didn't even know he was there.
He continued to watch her, his own sensitive hearing able to hear the tiny heartbeat inside her even from this distance. He couldn't control the smile that crept across his features. His child, she was carrying his child. Baby, his "maman," the woman his sire insisted he love and protect above all others, was going to have a baby, his baby. It was like a miracle to him. Actually, in human terms, it was a miracle. He, René Beaumont, who was dead and buried, mourned by his human family, no doubt avenged by them as well, theoretically resting in peace six feet under the earth, was going to be a father. Sometimes just the thought of it filled him up so completely that he thought he would burst wide open with joy. Then he would see his sire and Baby together and feel his unbeating heart squeeze so tightly he thought it would shatter completely. As much as he loved them both, it was hard for him to see them together all the time, knowing that what they had he had never had and never would have.
René had always had plenty of women around him, fawning over him, seducing him, from the time he was about thirteen. His tante called him Le Beau Garcon, "the beautiful boy," from the moment he was born, and he had been a beautiful child. However, once he hit puberty, he blossomed into one of the most handsome young men in South Louisiana. Girls and women flocked to him and he always responded to them, usually flirtatiously. It took little more than a wink from him to make a Southern girl all swoony and light-headed around him. Between his staggering good looks and his family connections he was the ultimate "catch" in his part of the world. He was somewhat quiet, but clever, and he had a hidden sense of humor that took people by surprise, playful and self-assured. He had all the best qualities a man of Cajun upbringing should have in addition to the most handsome face imaginable and a slim yet muscular build. When he had died, no doubt, most of the jeunes filles of Acadia, and possibly the whole of Louisiana, mourned.
Now, things were very different. He hadn't quite found his place in the family yet. He still felt confident and secure inside, but learning the rules of vampire culture had been difficult, particularly the required respect and deference to his sire. He loved Spike, there was no doubt of that, but he was simply not used to deferring to anyone else. It rather rubbed the wrong way. He played the dutiful son, as Jean Claude had taught him, and kept his confidence hidden. It was just safer this way until he could discern exactly how he fit into his new family. It was sometimes better to be thought an innocent than to reveal everything at once.
He watched the book on Baby's chest rise and fall a few more times, the sun glistening in her hair, and pink glow of her cheeks. She was so incredibly beautiful to him right now. Granted, he had been instilled with a deep love for her, at his sire's request, but seeing her there, sleeping peacefully with his child growing in her belly, made her ever so much more desirable to him. It was almost more than he could stand. He wanted to spend time alone with her, talk with her, touch her, kiss her, and make love to her for hours on end. He bit his lip hard at that thought. He could think whatever he wanted, dream whatever dreams of her came to him--in sleep or not--but he could never act on those thoughts and dreams. It would mean his death. And probably hers. Spike's whispered threat echoed in his mind for just a moment, a painful punctuation to his treacherous thoughts. He shook his head a little, to clear his mind, before his eyes dwelled on her again.
Her cheeks were moving past pinkish into red. He had to do something, but it was too far and too exposed for him to go to her and wake her, though bursting into flames right now might just be worth getting to touch her for even a moment. Then again, if he did that he'd never get to see her with their child. He looked about the grounds and found some pebbles within shady reach. Gathering a handful, he began tossing them at her, hitting her belly first, her legs, her knees, the book across her chest. He felt like a ten-year-old, tossing stones at the window of a girl he had a crush on. He almost laughed at the image. Finally he resorted to her head, taking careful aim so as to land them into her bountiful red hair rather than bean her on the nose. One-two-three pebbles and she swatted at her hair.
"Baby!" he whispered. She went right back to sleep. He growled low in his chest in frustration. Her eyes flew open. She sat up quickly, her book tumbling to the ground and looked around, startled. A vampire's growl, a recognizable one, could wake her from deep sleep. René was delighted. Baby looked around to find René smiling at her, hidden in the shade of the verandah, ocean blue-green eyes sparkling back at her with such love. She was suddenly stunned by the beauty of this childe, this man who had come to them under the most difficult circumstances, and yet had been able to give her a gift which could never be equaled by anyone, not even Spike.
As they stared into each other's eyes, the baby inside of her leaped. She gave a short, surprised squeal and then burst into laughter, her hands exploring her belly in hopes of feeling it yet again. "René! René! You must come see this!"
Without thinking, he took two running steps down the wood stairway before he realized his hand was on fire and, with a cringe, he retreated once again. Baby, looking somewhat horrified at what she had done, was at his side in seconds.
"Oh, René! I'm so sorry, I was so excited, I forgot. Oh, please forgive me, cher, please!" As she spoke to him, she kissed his hand where it was burned, leaving a trail of moist, warm kisses over his charred flesh. He couldn't even feel the wound ... all he could feel was her, her presence, her lips upon his skin, the change in the air with her so near; her scent, he thought he would pass out from her scent alone. He stumbled a little and Baby moved him quickly to an Adirondack chair, settling herself on the arm, blowing on his hand where it was burned. René didn't think he'd felt anything so wonderful in his entire life, well, except that time in the garden with Spike and Baby, but that was technically his unlife, not his life, so it still applied. He bit his lip. How could his mind ramble like that when she was so near him? Every part of his body was giving her full attention, yet his mind decided to take a vacation? No, he would not allow it.
Her breath on his hand was intoxicating, like angel kisses feathering the tiny, scorched hairs. His mind went completely blank. He could think of nothing but her, feeling her breath, hearing her heartbeat, feeling it so close to his own, and intermingled with it all was the fast, steady thumping of her child. His child. He paused in his thinking for a moment .... their child.
He lifted his eyes from his hand to her eyes, losing himself in the reflected gold of the later afternoon sun. She held his gaze, looking into him, drinking him in. And time stood still. There was only the steady sound of her breathing, the trickle of water in the pond, and the gentle rush of leaves being tossed about in the quiet, warm breeze. He wanted to stay there, in that moment, for all eternity.
Baby herself broke the silence. "Are you okay, cher?"
Cher. She called him cher. When did she begin using that colloquialism? All he could do was nod. His mouth somehow couldn't form the words to respond. This was so not like him. He could charm the bark off a tree, if it were a female anyway. How was it possible he could become so completely speechless around Baby?
"I'm sorry," she continued. "I was so excited I forgot that ... I'm so sorry, René. Are you sure you're okay?"
"Oui, Bébé," he found his voice in her name, but his heart was still lost in her eyes. "Oui, I'm fine. Can't even feel it now."
She smiled. "I have to show you why I called you! Here, let me have your other hand, the unburned one." Without waiting for it, she grabbed his hand and placed it on the swell of her abdomen. Her eyes sparkled up at him, as innocent and as excited at a child's. "Wait just a moment, just wait, I'm sure it will ... THERE!" She almost shouted with glee. "Did you feel it?" René's eyes were suddenly gigantic pools of blue-green excitement. It had moved! The baby had moved beneath his hand, and he had felt it. His child. Moving.
"Bébé! It's ... it's ..." his eyes met hers again, both of them filled with wonder, and they held there, swimming in the knowledge that something they had unintentionally created together was alive and moving and demanding its presence be recognized. He found his voice once again, "Mon Dieu, Bébé, it's, it's," he dove into her eyes again as he finished his thought with an impeccable French lilt and accent to the final word, "exquisite."
Baby's smile grew even more. "It's the first, René; it's the first time I've felt the baby move." Her eyes filled with tears, glistening up into his with such love. "And you were here. You got to feel it, too. Oh, René, you got to feel it, too!" She reached over to him and pressed her lips to his softly, lingering just a moment before moving to his ear, whispering across it, "You were here with me. Thank you, René. Thank you for this wonderful gift." Her lips met his again with a sweetness that made any consequences he might suffer from his sire worth it. His injured hand moved into her hair as he parted his lips and deepened their kiss.
Baby melted into him, opening to him as well, tasting him, wanting him and drowning in the taste of his lips and the feel of his hand in her hair. She felt something stir inside her, not the baby, but the familiar warmth of need and desire welling up, ready to take control of her body. Warm tingles seemed to run down the back of her neck from where René's hand rested; a quiver between her legs announced her arousal to her. He tasted so good, he felt so good. She wanted to crawl into his lap and stay there with his hands and lips on her, soothing her with his cool kisses and gentle touch. She wanted him. She hadn't planned on this. She was so happy with Spike, but she was suddenly overcome with an urgent need for him, for René, her beautiful, Cajun son who had given her a child of her own.
René knew what she was feeling, he could smell it on her, and it made her that much more desirable. His other hand found its way to her waist, circling around and slipping his hand beneath her blouse, cool fingers finding their way up her bare back. He drew tiny circles there, as Baby moaned her approval into his mouth. Spike's warning tried to find its way into his thoughts; he pushed it away. No matter the consequence, this moment was worth it. Even if he were dust within the next ten minutes, it would be worth it, to die with the taste of her on his lips.
He pulled her face closer, his tongue exploring her mouth, hers answering in kind. The hand on her back made its way back around, cupping her breast and gently rolling the puckered nipple between his thumb and forefinger.
Baby thought she was going to faint right there. He was incredible, his touch, his gentleness, his ability to know exactly where to touch her, just how much to give her and just how much to withhold. She wanted to sink onto him in that chair and give herself over to him completely. Her body was wet and eagerly waiting for him to enter her. She reached out herself to touch him, to feel if he wanted her just as much as she wanted him. Her hand met the hard evidence of his arousal and she smiled into his kiss, his name a whisper on her lips, "René...."
"Baby?" Spike's voice echoed through the entryway at the front of the house.
Baby's eyes flew open, her lips still pressed to René's. She pushed away, her face still flush with desire, her eyes both lustful and panicked. René lifted her from the arm of the chair. "It okay, cher. Go." He raised his chin a little and indicated the bench out in the garden. She understood immediately and scampered to where she had been, picking up her book and settling back as she had been before, sunning herself sleepily.
René smiled to himself, watching her. She had understood immediately, as had he, that moving out into the sun would mean more distance from Spike and the opportunity for her to calm down a bit away from his very acute senses. Her face was flushed; but out in the sunshine as she was, it could just as easily be mistaken for sunburn. She took a deep breath and relaxed into her position, turning her head slightly and finally responding to her husband.
"Out here in the garden." The words had barely passed her lips when Spike appeared on the verandah, all smiles and sleepy-eyed.
"Ah, there you are, luv. Getting a bit of sun, eh?"
Baby smiled at Spike with a glow that suddenly made René quiver inside. He wanted that smile to be for him, that heady, take-your-breath-away sort of smile that would make the most horrible day into the most wonderful one. He wanted that smile for himself; he wanted her for himself. And instead he remained, sitting there in the Adirondack chair, watching Baby worship Spike from her bench in the garden.
"Luv? You're toasting out there, why not come over here and let me cool you off." Spike's playful smile seduced her to the shelter of the shady porch, his mouth plundering hers as his arms engulfed her. She was so hot from being in the sun for so long her face was red. "Pet, you have such fair skin, you should be careful not to harm it, okay? Can't have you roasting out there where I can't get to you now, can I?" She gave him an apologetic grin and kissed him soundly. He rubbed against her, pleased to smell arousal on her already and wanting to take her right there. His hands told her what he wanted; one of them slipped between her legs, the other took her hand and rubbed it up the bulge of his jeans.
Baby laughed a little. "Oh you tease! I'm burning up; let me shower and cool down a little." Her eyes sparkled at him, a temptress in every word and movement. René could see her plainly, and she could see him as well, though she didn't dare look at him. Spike never even noticed him, his back fully to René and too enthralled with Baby to notice him anyway.
She ran her hands down his arms, taking his hands in hers. "Come help me?" She chewed at her lower lip and tilted her head to one side, a seductress in the first degree. There was no way he could resist her, nor could any other man, human or vampire. He scooped her up into his arms, her head resting against his neck, her eyes catching René's as they vanished into the house. René held her gaze as long as he could, watching her fade into the darkness inside. Only then did he let out a deliberate breath, sending the anguish he felt out into the now-stagnant air of the garden, leaving him alone with the memory of her on his lips, the scent of her hair in his nostrils, and a heart full of love breaking open for her to lay in any time she wished.
"René?" Jean Claude appeared before him with no warning. "René, I've been looking for you. Have you been here all this time?" René could only nod. The lump in his throat wouldn't let him speak. Jean Claude knew immediately something was wrong, but he also knew his brother well enough to know not to ask until René showed some sign of wanting to talk about it.
"Let's go hunting. Claudia is busy; boys' night out." He reached a hand out toward René, who took it almost immediately.
"Oui, Jean Claude, I'd like that." As they left together, Jean Claude put his hand on his brother's shoulder, tilting his head toward him curiously. Something was different yet familiar, a scent maybe, something he couldn't quite identify. Baby. René smelled like Baby. Jean Claude felt a surge of anger building up from his gut. This was bad, very bad. He wanted to confront René about it, but in his brother's current state of mind that seemed a bad idea. Maybe after a good kill he could approach it better.
René was silent and somewhat brooding. They'd have to make an extra effort to find someone particularly vile to kill tonight. And then, Jean Claude thought to himself, he was going to have to have a serious heart-to-heart with his brother.
They vanished into the night, still linked together, yet miles upon miles apart.
*****************
Jean Claude had never seen René so vicious in his kills before. On the one hand, he wanted to believe that the things he had been slowly teaching his younger vampire brother were sinking in and he was finally realizing the power of the gift he had been given in death. On the other hand, he recognized that René was working out issues and frustrations; frustrations that Jean Claude feared had everything to do with Baby. He suddenly hurt for his brother, the anguish and anger plain in every violent move René made, in ever villain he fed from, and in an overall gloom he seemed to carry with him. René didn't just need the kill, he didn't just need to feed; he wanted it. He wanted it all-the violence, the blood, the aggression, the opportunity to rip someone to shreds and feel justified for it.
The two men walked silently together through a seedier part of town, Jean Claude pondering the change in René and wondering whether he should confront him about it or not. It was all beginning to scare Jean more than he wanted to admit.
As they approached a dark alleyway two forms could be seen lurking in the back near a dimly lit wall. Both vampires could see clearly enough that it was a transaction, most likely drugs, possibly weapons. Though it wasn't something they normally approached as a crime worthy of their attention, René turned to pursue them anyway, walking casually so as not to alarm them and talking in a normal tone of voice to Jean Claude. Jean quickly adjusted to keep pace with his brother.
By the time they reached the pair, René was already in full game face, growling menacingly and ready to take them out. Jean Claude put an arresting hand on his arm. "René, no, they're just kids. Look." René's yellow eyes saw that Jean Claude had been right: one was no more than 15, the other no more than 20, the younger handing money to the older. He growled, still wanting to intercede, when Jean Claude quietly redirected him. "Let's just scare them. They need something to discourage them from this, but they can still turn their lives around if motivated properly. Stand down, brother."
René cringed. The last thing he wanted to do was stand down. He could already smell the fear in the boys ahead. He wanted to taste that fear, feel it sliding down his throat, hot and spicy and fulfilling. Jean Claude's hand on him tightened. "Stand down, René; this isn't the time. I'll handle it."
René slipped back into his human face begrudgingly, throwing a low, warning growl at Jean Claude.
The older vampire approached the boys alone, talked to them quietly, though René could still hear the conversation. The older boy pulled a knife, threatening Jean Claude with it. The younger boy--obviously inexperienced--spooked and dropped everything, running down the alley away from René. He watched the boy flee, like a tiger stalking his prey, motionless but in complete control. Once the boy turned the corner, René leaped up to the fire escape and climbed to the top of the building, scouting the edge and watching where the boy ran.
Jean Claude dealt swiftly with the desperate young drug dealer, grabbing the boy's arm, twisting it, breaking it, and folding it painfully behind the boy's back. "I suggest, young man, you find another line of work. If I catch you here again, your penance will be much more severe." The boy whimpered and stuttered, but could get no real words out. "Do you understand?" Jean Claude was commanding and the boy, though frightened, reacted immediately by nodding that he understood. Jean Claude released him at once. "Now, you'd better get that arm looked at. There's a clinic three blocks south of here; they'll take care of you. If they give you any crap, you tell them Jean Claude sent you, and they'll fix you right up." The boy nodded again, turning quickly to go just as Jean Claude grabbed the small bag of marijuana from the boy's other hand. "I'll take this. You won't be needing it." The boy fled without protest.
Once he was gone, Jean Claude looked to the rooftops to find René. He always did like a bird's eye view. Up he went, following the path and scent of his brother, heading to the edge and watching for him, feeling him, searching for his emotions as much as looking for him. René was in bad shape; Jean Claude shivered at the anger and violence he could feel radiating off his brother even without seeing him. Jean's reactions stepped up and he went in direct pursuit, knowing almost instinctively where René was now and feeling René's thrill in the chase as if it were his own. Leaping to the next rooftop, he finally caught sight of René just as he caught the boy. René was in game face once again, baring his teeth and snarling like a predatory animal, ready to strike.
Jean Claude called out to René just as he saw a clawed hand strike across the boy's throat. Blood shot from the boy as if it were shot from a cannon. Jean Claude could smell it, even high atop the building. With a scream of terror echoing the boy's, he sprang from the building to stop René, to help the boy, to stop what was happening. "Nooooooooooooo!!!!!"
The boy, now appearing closer to twelve than fifteen, stood there shakily, swaying back and forth as if little more than a breeze would knock him down. Knock him down into the sleep of Death that Jean knew could not be stopped now. Jean Claude's cry stopped René from striking the final blow, but René stood there watching the boy as his life bled from him. The scent was peppery with fear and sweet with youth, but René couldn't bring himself to take any of it. Something stopped him.
Just as Jean Claude reached them, the boy turned his face up toward René. Pain and sorrow and fear were written all over the boy's face. His eyes, filled with tears, locked with his killer's. René backed away, his features now frozen in fear and regret, vampire features melting away from the fierce inhuman face that had killed the boy into the pitiful visage of a devastated man. He crumbled to the ground. Jean Claude caught the dying boy as he started to fall, sitting on the ground next to René and cradling the boy in his arms. Then he saw what René had seen. The boy's eyes were gold, not the yellowish demon color theirs changed to when they allowed their demon to come forward, but a devastatingly unusual shade of gold that he had only seen once before ... in the eyes of his sire's consort.
He looked sympathetically in the now glazed expression of the dying child. "I'm so sorry, boy. It wasn't supposed to happen like this." He stroked the boy's blood-soaked hair and cheek, trying to be calm and soothing as he felt the boy's life drain from him.
"Don't tell my mama ... don't tell ..." The boy's voice was weak and crumbling, as if each word carried his last breath.
"I won't, son. I promise, your mama will never find out." Jean Claude felt the boy relax and his heartbeat slow even more. The blood from his wounds was only seeping now, there was very little of it left.
René was on the ground on all fours. He lifted his head and faced Jean Claude. "Brother," he heaved, forcing breath in and out of his body, not knowing what else to do. "Don't let him die. Please, Jean Claude, don't let him die. It my fault ... my fault." René moved quickly, moving his hand over the boy's throat in a vain effort to stop the bleeding that had already progressed too far. "No! Jean Claude, please!" Desperation was in his eyes. He couldn't deal with this; he had killed an innocent child. In his own pain and anguish, he had taken an innocent life, not that of a killer or rapist or even thief; he had destroyed the life and future of a child. He couldn't let it happen. "Please!" he cried.
Jean Claude's voice broke in pain for his brother. "I can't, René. It's too late."
"No! No, it's not!" He was panting now, looking for a solution, any solution. "No, we ... we can change him, Jean Claude; we change him, heh? We make him like us!" Tears flowed from René's eyes for the first time. Jean Claude had never seen his brother cry, not even once he realized what had happened to his life and his family, not in the frustration of learning what he had become. Never had he cried. Now, he was a mass of sobbing desperation, wanting to undo the reckless murder of this boy whose only crime was in wanting to buy some grass for himself and his friends. He had paid for that folly with his life.
"I can't, René, we can't. Not without the Master's say so, you know that."
"Noooo! Jean Claude, we can't let him die. He not supposed to die, it not his time yet, it was ... it my fault."
"And what do we tell Spike? 'Sorry, Master, this was an accident so we made him a vampire?' You'd force Spike not only to kill the boy but us as well. And what would we tell him when he asked why this happened? That you were insane? That you were upset that the woman you love belongs to someone else? Would he really see that as justification for killing an innocent?" Jean Claude was yelling now. Were the streets not deserted, he could have been heard blocks away.
René looked stunned. How did Jean Claude know about him and Baby? How could he possibly know?
"I'm not an idiot, René. I can smell her all over you. You're lucky Spike didn't." The boy in his arms gurgled, his eyes looking up at the two vampires piteously. Jean Claude stroked his hair again, his voice calming and soothing, "It'll be okay, boy, we'll take care of you until it's time. It won't be much longer now." A single tear ran down the boy's cheek. He was so brave. Jean Claude only wished he could save the boy. He knew it wasn't right he should die, but he also knew it would be worse were the boy to be turned, particularly at this age. He'd never be able to completely understand what he was and why he had been denied a place in heaven because of someone else's guilt.
Jean Claude turned to René, his voice a firm command. "Go down to Peabody's. Tell them I'm bringing someone in who will need special attention. They'll know what to do. Go now, René; I'll follow behind once he is gone." Sending René to the mortuary would give him something to do and keep him from turning his victim into a vampire himself. And it would give Jean Claude time to figure a reasonable course and what to tell Spike, as this would no doubt get back to their father.
He whispered to the boy as Jean saw him focus on something out of reach. "Shhhhh, do you see someone you know there? In the light?" The boy managed a single nod. "Then go to them, boy, they are waiting just for you with open arms and love. Go on, now; don't waste time here with me. I'll tell your mama that you died bravely and with honor." The golden eyes closed as the last drops of the boy's life bled away.
Jean reached into the boy's vest and found a wallet. His student ID was there. Jean Claude sighed; he was only in middle school. Such a waste, he thought to himself. He memorized the boy's name and address and stood, hoisting the boy up more steadily into his arms as he walked toward the funeral home.
When he arrived there, he was expected. Quickly they took the boy from him to prepare him. "Please, clean him up well, make him look good for his mama. She'll have a hard enough time as it is. Tell her that her son died bravely, saving the life of another and that his last thoughts were of her and how much he loved her." Jean Claude paused one more time to stroke the child's hair. "You were a good boy, Louis. You made a mistake is all. Sleep well." Then he turned to the mortician quietly: "Make him her beautiful boy again. Send the bill to the Master." He gave a curt nod and left.
Outside Jean found René standing on the sidewalk staring into nothing, motionless, breathless, a standing dead man. He was overcome with both pity and anger, torn between holding his shattered brother in his arms or beating him half to death.
"René?" He turned immediately and Jean Claude clocked him right across the jaw, startling him and knocking him to the ground. "Don't you EVER do anything like that again," his voice seethed with controlled anger. "Don't you kill without cause and never, EVER mention turning someone like this again."
René remained on the ground, shaken, broken, and suddenly angry. When Jean Claude reached down to help him up, he reciprocated, pounding his fist into the cheekbone of his older brother, knocking him down. The brothers' fight began, each of them relentlessly hitting and kicking each other, blood streaming down their faces and mingling with the blood of the dead boy on their clothes. No words were spoken, only the grunts of impact and the occasional cries of pain when a punch hit just right. Jean Claude knew inside himself that this was what his brother needed-to absolutely pound someone mercilessly. As the older brother, better him than anyone else. He wouldn't have to explain anything to anyone.
After ten minutes or so, they both collapsed into the grass, panting unnecessarily but using that instead of speech to calm down. After a few moments, Jean Claude stood up then bent down, wiping his thumb across his brother's bleeding eyebrow. "Come on, little brother, let's fix you up a little." His tone was filled with meaning, and he reached his hand out to René as he had before on the verandah, grasping hold and helping him to his feet.
Both of them were pretty beaten up and bloodied, and the last thing they needed was to go waltzing into the house like this. They were only a few blocks from the old warehouse space, so Jean guided René there. Once inside their old bathroom, Jean Claude ran the water, found some old supplies, and began cleaning up his brother, wiping the blood from his own face as well. He washed the blood from both of their hands--a symbolic gesture to be sure--then began to repair the still-open wounds on René's face. No stitches would be necessary; his vampire healing had already begun to take over. If only his heart could be healed as easily.
Jean Claude knew there was more that his brother needed. Some of it he could give him, some of it he could not. But he would try. Whispering softly, he told René how they would explain what happened, bending the truth a little in places. The wounds on the boy's neck could easily be mistaken in description as coming from a knife rather than claws. Jean Claude would be sure the mortician and coroner both understood that. The rest could be told fairly close to the truth.
Jean Claude pulled a baggy from his pocket, the offending marijuana, and looked up at his brother with a hint of impishness. "I think we could use a bit of relaxing, don't you?" Sometimes fate had a quirky way of providing the needed things at the needed time. Not only was there grass, but also papers and a roller in the baggie. Man, Jean Claude thought to himself, the boy lost his life on his first buy. That's just not right.
He helped René off the bathroom counter and they looked for a place to crash. The scent of Spike and Baby's old room was enough to send them to the other side of the loft. Claudia's room was safer. They flopped on the old mattress and Jean Claude pulled out the goodies and rolled them a joint. René still had not spoken.
Jean Claude lit the joint and inhaled deeply, forcing the fiery smoke into his unaccustomed lungs and holding it there as he passed it. René held it in his hand, staring at it, seeing in it so many things he could have made a list ... the source of the boy's death, Spike's cigarette smoke, respite from the pain he felt, his flaming hand when he had tried to get to Baby just a few hours ago and was scorched by the sunlight. He put the paper to his mouth and pulled the peace that it offered into his body.
The two remained there, silently smoking the entire contents until they were so relaxed and mellow they couldn't even stand. Jean Claude leaned over onto his brother's shoulder. "You know, son, if you don't get control of this, he'll kill you both." Jean didn't have to elaborate on who "he" was.
"I know." René's tone was still cold but hazy. The fighting was over; now came the time to turn over ideas and brainstorm with no inhibitions, stoned out of their minds, far away from the probing eyes of their parents.
"What you gonna do?" Jean Claude moved in closer, his face almost touching René's neck. His brother smelled so good right now, his scent extraordinarily hot and inviting. He turned a little, letting his hand rest on René's chest, his fingers dawdling in the wisps of hair peeking through the opening of his shirt.
"What can I do, Jean Claude, heh? If I stay, he find out. If I go, he find out. I need a reason to go that ain't ... her. A mission, a job, a reason to be where she ain't so that I can ... forget." Even as he said it he didn't believe it. Nothing could make him forget those golden eyes, the too-red hair, her soft, creamy skin, her scent, her laugh, the feel of her lips on his, the excitement on her face as she felt the baby move. Forgetting would be impossible.
Jean Claude read his mind. "I know, fils. She's not easy to forget. I think we're all a little bit in love with her…. Some more than others," he added. He took another long drag on the last joint, finishing it off and then holding the heady smoke deep in his lungs. He looked at his brother, swam in the ocean of his eyes, then pressed his lips to René's, parting them slightly and releasing the smoke into his brother's mouth. René responded, drawing in deeply from his brother, sharing the smoke and the numbing effects it brought to him as well as the comfort Jean Claude was offering him. He took it, accepted it in the spirit it was given. Intimacy. He couldn't have it from Baby, but he could accept the offering from his brother. He had never felt so grateful to anyone.
A moment later, Jean was unbuttoning René's shirt, slowly kissing the bits of flesh beneath as each button was unfastened. René leaned his head back against the wall, giving himself over to the delightful sensation of his brother's cool lips. As the last button was undone, Jean slowly slid the cool, cotton shirt off René's shoulders, caressing the curves of his muscular arms as the shirt slid off. Both men began to respond to the other, the scent of their arousal filling the air and mingling with the residual smoke and their blood. Altogether it was intoxicating.
Lightning showed through the large windows of the loft, quickly followed by the clap and rumble of thunder. A late summer storm was making its way through the area. No doubt, it would cool things down and perhaps wash some of René's pain away. Jean slid his hands around the younger man's waist, pulling them closer together as he climbed onto his brother's lap, straddling René's legs as he reached up his brother's back and rested his head in the middle of René's chest.
René himself was suddenly awash in a sense of calm and comfort that made it difficult to believe that he had been so upset only a few minutes before.
Jean sat up, looking deeply into his brother's eyes, seeing the anguish there and wanting so badly to spare him from it however he could. He knew this wouldn't take it all away, but he had hopes that at least it would be a respite. Leaning in slowly, Jean pressed his lips to a spot on René's chest just over his heart. René's skin was cool to the touch and inviting with the mugginess of the impending rain surrounding them. He turned his head, resting his cheek on the well-defined muscles, rubbing it up and down slightly to feel the movement and friction of hair and skin. He inhaled deeply, drawing the delicious scent of his handsome brother into him, and desire began to course through him like fire. Shattered or not, René was one of the most beautiful men Jean Claude had ever had the privilege of knowing, much less loving, and right now René needed him. There was nothing he wouldn't do for him.
With tiny kisses, Jean worked his way up René's chest and neck, tracing his jaw line with his tongue and finally licking across René's lips, tasting him, asking him for entry, wanting a response. He was granted entry almost immediately as René himself leaned into Jean, wrapping his arms around him and pulling him in even closer, plundering his mouth with his wicked, searching tongue. Jean drew him in further, massaging the foreign tongue in his mouth with his own, encompassing it with his lips and sucking lightly. The first moan came from René. He had never been with Jean like this; he didn't know what to expect. Oh, they had been together with Claudia and even with Baby and Spike; intermingling sex with feeding was a part of their family dynamic. It solidified them, kept them closer and more trusting of one another. But this was the first time he had actually been alone like this with Jean Claude. He was astonished at the skill and intensity his brother could offer him. He wanted to reciprocate.
Jean Claude brought his hands around to René's chest once again, tracing his ribs lightly with eager fingertips to the point that René giggled and pulled away. Jean Claude was surprised and delighted. He was ticklish! René Beaumont, second son of William the Bloody, was ticklish! René knew he was in trouble now; he had just given his brother a powerful weapon in that one small reaction. It would no doubt return to haunt him if the expression on Jean's face was any indication. He had to take the upper hand quickly.
With no warning, René turned his brother over onto his back, pinning his arms over his head with his right hand. His strength was easily enough to allow him an advantage, and take advantage he did, utilizing his free hand to tear open Jean's shirt by removing one solid piece straight down the front from neck to waist. Jean Claude raised an eyebrow: "I rather liked that shirt." René smiled and said nothing, slipping his free hand inside the ruined shirt and lightly searching for the same reaction he had just given. Tiny prickles of tickles filled Jean, but he showed no evidence of it, self-control in full force. No way was he going to show the same weakness.
After a few moments, René surmised that Jean was obviously not ticklish and resorted to a more direct method of torture with a well-placed and very loud raspberry to Jean's belly. Jean roared with laughter, as did René, and they fell apart, both lying on their backs, laughing, as the thunder roared outside once again. They hardly noticed.
Rain began to fall heavily. Jean scrambled to his feet and headed to the window, watching the water sheet down and pool onto the catwalk outside. He glanced over his shoulder at his bewildered brother.
"Viens, René, en dehors."
"What? No, I'm not going outside. It raining! C'est fou, Jean Claude, you're crazy!"
"Viens!" he commanded, a smile beginning to play on his lips. "Viens, Monsieur Poulet! As-tu peur d'une peu de pluie?" Jean began to cluck like a chicken, strutting back and forth in front of the window, flapping his arms.
René laughed so hard he couldn't get out another word. Here was his older brother, the stoic and responsible one, clucking and strutting and taunting him, still sporting a swollen eye and a few cuts on his face from the fight, using everything at his command to try and pull his little brother from the horror that had been made of his unlife in the last four hours. He was overcome with love. Less than six months ago, he couldn't have imagined his life would become what it had, that he would be dead and yet feel more alive than he had in years, that he would have a family who loved and protected him, who taught him the ways of their kind without hesitation and without intrigue, who loved him unconditionally and would do whatever it took to keep him a happily adjusted fledgling comfortable in his surroundings, his heritage, and the knowledge that he was important to them. He stared at his brother now, still clucking and strutting, and could hardly believe that anyone would do this for him. Certainly none of his human brothers would have; they'd have happily pounded him rather than seduce him out of the pit of remorse and guilt he was quickly digging himself into. And here was Jean Claude, using a hidden arsenal of goofiness and comedy to make René see what he needed to see … that life, or unlife, was good, that mistakes happen, that hearts can break, and people die, and yet there would always be someone who loved him and would do anything for him.
Quietly René stood up, still watching his brother with an intensity that, had Jean Claude noticed, might have made him uncomfortable. Slowly he began to walk toward his brother still unnoticed, Jean quite into his performance by now. When René reached Jean, he grabbed him squarely by the shoulders and pulled him to his chest, engulfing the smaller man with his arms and body and holding him to his chest, rubbing his cheek and face into his hair, drawing his brother's scent into his body as if it were a healing elixir. He whispered across his ear, "Merci, mon frčre du coeur. Merci pour toute, pour ma vie, pour ton amour." He kissed the top of Jean's head then released him.
"Viens, ensuite, en dehors!" Without warning, René's humor changed entirely as he grabbed Jean Claude by the arms and dragged him out the side door onto the catwalk, straight out into the pouring rain. They both opened their arms to the sky, calling up into the heavens that the sons of William the Bloody would not be confined by a bit of rain. It beat down on them mercilessly, and as Jean Claude had suspected, it began to wash them, their clothes, their skin, their spirits. The blood of the innocent and the guilty ran down their bodies and onto the catwalk, mixing and dripping with the clean rain and washing out to the river to become part of the earth once again. Ashes to ashes washed clean from a forgiving heaven.
They stayed outside for a very long time enjoying the cool shower, the relentless wind, each other's company, and the symphony of rain and lightening and thunder. Soaking wet and the rain dying down, the finally went back inside the warehouse, back into Claudia's room, and sank down together on the floor, wrapped in each other's arms, talking of the dreams they'd had as children, the way their lives took shape, and ultimately how their deaths and resurrections had changed who they thought they were. They were brothers, inseparably linked together through a chance of fate and a man named Spike who brought them to this new existence, and Baby who had taught them both how important it is to love.
Finally slipping from their wet clothes, the brothers lay down together, a tangle of arms and legs forever intertwined and a part of one another. Peace washed over them as the rain had, and as the sun made its first appearance in the distance, they found themselves drifting to sleep in the comfort of each other's arms and hearts. Frčres du coeur pour toujours.
Checking the clock she saw that it was only about 11:30 a.m. She got up, kissed Spike on the forehead, and slipped out the door. Maybe a snack would settle her down some, perhaps some crackers or something light. As she padded barefoot down the hallway, clothed only in her lightweight cotton gown, she was struck by how dark it was. The storm had brought much heavier-than-usual cloud cover; it seemed more like dusk than midday. When she reached the kitchen, she grabbed an apple and tossed it into the air, catching it casually before taking a big bite. It crunched loudly, which for some reason made her smile.
She headed out to the verandah, deciding to curl up in the Adirondack chair and watch the rain. She stood in the doorway for a moment, feeling the cool, rain-soaked breeze caress her face, her thoughts again turning to René. She closed her eyes, able to hear his voice, see those stunning eyes, and remember the feel of his lips on hers. The air seemed permeated with the deliciously sweet and musky scent that only René seemed to have.
She sighed and headed toward the chair, ready to climb into it for a day of musing and daydreaming. As she climbed into it, she found it already occupied. She gave a little squeal of surprise before landing in the middle of René's lap. He looked at her, saying nothing, and she stammered an embarrassed apology. As she started to get up, René's hands reached out to stop her, circling her waist and pulling her back into him.
"René … this is not a good idea …"
"Shhhh, Bébé." He put his fingertips to her lips. "It all right. No one else awake. We all alone, cher."
Chastising herself the entire time, Baby leaned back into him, settling her head on his shoulder and letting him wrap her up in his cool arms. She stayed there a long time, listening to the rain and being close to him, unable to speak and not really knowing what to say even if she could. She shifted in his lap, burying her face into his neck, kissing it lightly.
"René?"
"Mmm?"
"What are we going to do?"
It was a legitimate question for which he had no real answer. Any action they took would rip the family, and possibly all of their lives, apart. If Spike found out on his own, René would be immediately killed, or probably tortured first then killed. If they ran away, they would be found eventually; a childe could not hide from his sire forever. If they went to Spike directly, there was no telling what he would do, but he would be heartbroken, this man they both loved and respected … the Master of New Orleans.
"Je ne sais pas, m'petite." He sighed. "I really don't know."
Baby kissed his neck again. She knew she shouldn't, but he was there, wrapped around her, and cool and smelling so wonderful and she wanted him so much. No matter how much her mind screamed at her to get up and walk away, get far, far away from René, she couldn't seem to obey it. She wanted to be here, touching him, kissing him. Her warm lips worked their way up to his jaw line, her tongue reaching out to taste his skin, savoring the saltiness mixed with something spicy and a hint of fresh peaches. Even Spike didn't taste this good. Spike. She sighed but continued kissing René.
René finally turned his head to look down at her. Those golden eyes looked up at him with such innocence and such want … and such sadness. He suddenly felt the sharp pain of loss for the boy with the golden eyes who had given his life on the altar of René's anger only last night. René needed to stop that pain, his and hers. He brushed his lips across hers. Maybe just once, he thought to himself, maybe just the one kiss would be enough; it would make the pain stop, it would give them enough to live on so that they could continue their lives without falling into the horrible bottomless pit they were both perilously close to tumbling into.
The moment their lips touched, he knew it was a mistake. He never wanted to let go, he just wanted to stay like this for all eternity, damn the consequences. Baby obviously felt the same way. She clung to him, pressing her body more into his and parting her lips to him, inviting him into her mouth and her heart. There was no way to stop, no way to take it back and make this not happen, and they both were lost to it … to their love and their need for each other. Neither of them had the strength to pull away, to say no, or to stop what was happening.
Baby slowly began unbuttoning his shirt as their lips continued hungrily. Her hand felt warm on his skin, just as her breath did on his cheek. Her fingertips played affectionately in the tuft of hair revealed beneath. She didn't stop until the shirt was completely unfastened, then, without even looking, she peeled the shirt away from his chest, opening it and revealing his muscular build. She finally pulled away just to look at him. He felt her quiver before he captured her mouth once again, pulling her closer, pressing her body to his with nothing between them but thin cotton and a few embroidered rosebuds.
René slipped his hands beneath her nighty, his hands trembling as he stroked and caressed her thighs. He inched the fabric up over her hips to her waist. Baby sat back a little, looking into the sea of his eyes and finding such love and want that she could scarcely breathe. All fear and hesitation fled as she pulled her gown up over her head and dropped it into a pool of white cotton. René gasped. He knew she was beautiful, and he had obviously been with her and Spike, and with the family at times of blood-sharing and bonding, but now she was giving herself to him alone. He looked at her, her pale skin with its pinkish glow, her shoulders, soft and inviting, her breasts swollen and round, preparing for a different task than pleasing him once their child was born. Her nipples were large and dark, though hard and obviously wanting to be touched and kissed and fondled. The slope of her belly was showing that the child inside her was growing, taking over its private space in her body and infringing on her a little more each day. She was absolutely exquisite. He looked up into her face and saw a slight blush to her cheeks.
"Mon Dieu," he whispered. "You're so beautiful." His lips captured hers again, his tongue plunging deeply inside her mouth, wanting to taste and devour every inch of her, beginning with her mouth. Baby opened to him, shifting herself to face him completely, straddling his hips, her knees now pressed between his thighs and the arms of the hardwood chair. René's hands tried to touch all of her at once, her back, her shoulders, her thighs, her neck, her breasts, the curve at the small of her back. He could feel his linen trousers wet with her arousal. He could smell her as well, that musky scent which screamed to him how much she really wanted him. It made him want her even more, if that were possible.
Baby reached more toward him, pressing her hardened nipples into his chest as her hands began an exploration of his back and sides, her lips still firmly pressed to his. She could hardly stand being even this far away from him. She wanted to crawl inside him, be one with him, have him take her completely. Her hands began to function independently, as if they had a mind of their own, quickly finding the fastener to his trousers and opening them, fumbling with the zipper before managing to slide it down effectively and plunge her hands inside to find the magnificent hardness she so desperately wanted. She gasped. So did he. Both of them dissolved quickly into moans of pleasure and desire as Baby freed him from the linen prison, sliding them down over his hips as far as possible without standing. She shifted forward; she couldn't wait anymore, she wanted him inside her, filling her again … as he had done the night she had conceived. She had hardly remembered it-even when she and Spike had been with him in the garden she couldn't remember what he felt like, at least, not until now. The moment she felt the velvety touch of him inside her, she wanted to scream as the memory came flooding back to her. How could she possibly have forgotten what he felt like inside her? He fit her perfectly-length, girth, curve, and in movement. Oh God, he felt so wonderful.
She settled down onto him slowly, squeezing and pulling him into her deeply before she rose to do it yet again. René's head dropped to her breast, nibbling and sucking, teasing the extraordinarily hard and sensitive nipple, making it his own and driving her to loud moans of pleasure. His hands settled beneath the soft roundness of her hips, helping her to move up and down as he stroked into her over and over again. He thought he would go insane with pleasure, yet he held tightly to his control, not wanting it to be over too quickly for either of them. She made it increasingly difficult when she began to speed up, thrusting her hips down onto him as she pressed her breast toward him even more, urging him to take more of her into his mouth. He obliged, reveling in every sensation, every lick and taste. The air was filled with their moans and gasps, the rain and thunder covered little of it, and the air was thick with the scent of their lovemaking.
When he thought he could take no more, that he would spill into her at any moment, he pulled back, releasing her nipple and breathing heavily, trying to regain control. Her chest was heaving, her eyes heavy with arousal, her lips parted and swollen from his kisses and their want. He went to taste her mouth again, when she pulled back and bared her neck to him. He was stunned; he didn't really understand. Baby was human; he couldn't take blood from her, not like he did from his brothers and sister. Even like this he didn't think it was possible. She saw his hesitation and reached her hand around the back of his head, pulling him into her neck, begging him to feed from her. "Please … René … please, now, please ………" He felt his face shift and sank his fangs into her neck, drawing her sweet, sweet blood into his mouth and his body, drinking deeply as they both came together in a shattering explosion which took them through wave after wave of pleasure.
He continued to feed from her, feeling her press into him more, wanting him to take more, each draw sending her into another round of earth-shattering orgasms. When he felt her weaken, he withdrew, breathing heavily into her shoulder as she murmured his name over and over again … the sweet sound of her voice wrapping him in unbelievable pleasure.
"René …. " Her voice was little more than a whisper now. He lifted his head, seeking her eyes, and instead found the deep sapphire fury of Spike's. He was standing behind her, his human face seething with anger and anguish. He was holding a long, wooden spear that he plunged into Baby's back, piercing completely through her. She was still looking at René; she didn't even know Spike was there until she saw the spear come through her own chest and into René's. A primal scream tore through his throat as she fell lifelessly onto him as his arms began to turn to dust around her.
"Nooooooooooooo!!!!!!!!!!!!!" René woke up in a cold sweat, bolting up from the mattress and almost throwing Jean Claude onto the floor.
Jean was awake in a shot. "What? René! What?"
René was standing naked in the middle of the room; the thunder and lightening were so loud he couldn't even hear his brother, he couldn't even hear his own screams. It took him a few moments to see where he was, his eyes wild with fear, looking to Jean Claude for answers.
"It was a dream, brother. It's okay. It wasn't real."
"Wasn't … real?" He was panting. "You sure? You sure she's okay?" He grabbed Jean Claude by the arms, shaking him. "Is-she-okay???"
It took a moment for Jean Claude to read what had happened. It was all so much worse than he had thought just last night. It was so much worse than sending a boy to his early grave in anger or picking a fight with his brother. Jean Claude swallowed hard, realizing what he was talking about, his eyes holding René's as he nodded and tried to reassure him.
"Baby's okay, René. She's at home. We haven't even been back yet."
René crumpled onto the floor into a mass of sobbing, heaving flesh. Jean Claude knelt beside him, holding him, whispering words of comfort and reassurance while inside his heart broke for his brother who was more lost than anyone could have ever known. Jean Claude's tears mixed with his brother's as they sat holding one another on the cold, hard floor of the old warehouse, thunder shaking the old building with its mournful thrum of sorrow and fear.