Xander stumbled into his basement at four fifteen in the morning, his mind blank. Anya sat on the fold-out bed reading what appeared to be one of his old copies of Playboy. Removing his dusty flannel shirt and slightly-stained pants, he walked over and plopped on the bed without a word.
"I can see why you get this for the articles," she said, putting the magazine aside. "They're really quite fascinating." There was sarcasm in her voice and Xander tried to smile, but found it took too much effort.
"I just get it for the naked pictures," he grumbled, pulling a pillow under his head and curling into a ball. He felt so dirty...so used.
"I know that, Xander, I was trying to work on my sarcasm," she informed him, turning out the lamp beside the bed and sidling up to him. Nibbling on his neck, she said, "Can we fornicate now?"
"Not tonight, Anya, I'm too tired," he said, pushing her away gently. In the darkness, he could feel her pout. "Look, it's been a long night and I want to get some sleep. How about I make it up to you tomorrow?"
She was quiet for a moment, and then brightened beside him. "Do you promise to give me oral pleasure?" she asked.
"Yeah, sure, whatever," he muttered, his face buried in the pillow. How was he ever going to face Buffy again? How was he gonna face Anya? What had he done?
And that was when he realized that it had been all her. She had used the fact that he had wanted her for four years to her advantage, guessing that he wouldn't be able to handle the pressure. He'd nearly given in on Valentine's Day with the whole love spell fiasco two years before and had always wondered what would have happened if he had.
During the whole thing, Buffy had had this odd look on her face, a sort of satisfaction that had been lost on him on first. But thinking back, he realized how cold her eyes had been, how violent she'd been. It reminded him of Faith...
And when it had ended she'd thrown his pants at him and pulled her own on, buttoning them and blowing him a mocking kiss as she left without a word. Xander had been left in the dark warehouse as the realization of what had just happened came crashing down on him.
The simple fact remained that he was still in love with her. He always would be. Sure, he cared for Anya deeply. He'd loved Cordelia. And even though the love he felt for Buffy had lessened considerably, it was still there, buried deep in his heart. He was weak, and he'd given in.
Xander's brow furrowed as Anya wrapped her arm around his waist and molded her body against his, her gentle snoring hinting at just how tired she was. Dimly, he realized he'd forgotten to ask about the meeting at Giles' apartment. Cheating on his girlfriend could do that, he supposed. Xander scowled at the thought, mentally berating himself again.
And yet, he was almost happy that he had, because he felt nothing towards the blonde Slayer now. He was actually upset that she had used him like that, used him when it was so out of character for her to do. He thought he had known her better than that, but he had obviously been wrong.
There was something wrong about the whole thing, actually. The Buffy he knew and had known for four years would not have done that. Had it been a fight with Riley that had triggered their little interlude? Or had she perhaps finally cracked under the burden of Deadboy's leaving? There was no knowing.
All he did know was that he and Buffy were gonna have little talk tomorrow.
"God, if I didn't know any better I'd say that Faith seems to have rubbed off on Buffy a little too much," he muttered as sleep finally caught him.
*~*
Faith was trembling slightly as she broke the lock leading to her old apartment and stepped inside, quickly de-activating the security system before it triggered an alert. She closed the door shut behind her and reached for the light switch, flicking it to bathe the room in soft light.
The apartment was just as she remembered it. Someone had replaced the broken window and cleared the demolished furniture. The air smelled sweet, not stale as she had expected, and it was obvious that someone had been keeping the place clean while she had been gone.
Warily, she started across the thick carpet to the canopy bed and the satin sheets that beckoned to her. She knew she couldn't go to Buffy's dorm room-she didn't know where it was and that redhead witch-wannabe would probably be there. Faith didn't want to have to deal with her.
Maybe coming here hadn't been the best idea, though. She missed Richie--her nickname for him when no one was around--and here there were a ton of reminders of him. Hell, it was technically his apartment, he'd gotten everything for her and obviously hired someone to keep it spotless. He'd been the father she'd never had, a person for her to lean on when she could no longer handle the burden of life by herself.
And now he was gone, blown to bits by Buffy and her little friends. Faith felt her lips tighten at the thought. They'd pay for that one too.
But that was for another day, when she was a little less tired and a little more creative. She'd already put an end to Buffy's relationship with Riley and driven a wedge through her friendship with Xander. There would be plenty of time to deal with the others later.
With a feral grin, Faith stripped down to her underwear and slid under the covers. She stretched languidly and yawned, clapping once to turn off the bedside light. The room was dark once again, a minimal amount of light gleaming in through the window from the streetlight outside. She turned onto her back and gazed up at the ceiling, suddenly laughing out loud. Forty-eight hours ago she'd been in a coma.
And here she was, living someone else's life with no one else knowing.
It was too good to be true.
*~*
Angel had been awakened from his light sleep when she had begun to breathe heavily once more. Buffy had broken out into a slight sweat, Faith's dark hair matted to her forehead, and she was trembling and thrashing in his arms. Unlike before, though, there seemed to be a terror on her face, a gripping fear that told him she was having a nightmare.
If he only knew how horrible it was...
She stood in Faith's apartment once more, sunlight streaming in merrily through the window. Looking in the mirror, she saw that she was still in Faith's body, dressed in a flowing white gown. Buffy took in the room once more, feeling nothing as memories of their fight surfaced in her mind.
"Don't you love the smell of black roses?" Faith asked as she stepped into view, Buffy's body wrapped in the same white silk that adorned Faith's. She held a single rose in her hand, twirling it absentmindedly before gingerly bringing it to her nose and sniffing. "They're sweet with death..."
"I didn't know they could be black and smell like death," Buffy replied, her voice sounding like that of a child's, soft and innocent. Faith's lips turned up in a smile.
"A rose is deceiving," she warned. "All the beauty, the soft petals, the fragrance..." she trailed off, her fingers trailing down to the stem. "They mask the maliciousness of it, the things that hurt. Never trust your first impression, Buffy, because they're often false."
"But I've known you for a year, Faith. It's hardly a first impression."
"Silly child," she said, tossing a strand of golden hair out of her eyes and taking a step towards Buffy, sunlight bathing her face in a soft glow. "You don't even know how to begin looking."
Buffy frowned at the other girl's words. She watched silently as Faith cocked her head to the side as though she was straining to hear a far-off voice. "You have a gift, Buffy...a gift from them."
"A gift..." she echoed.
"You have to know where to look for your answers," Faith warned, reaching out to brush a lock of brown hair from Buffy's eyes. "You have to know who to ask."
"Don't you mean what?" she countered, growing more and more confused at the girl's riddles. The air shifted at that moment and the sunlight that had been filling the room slowly gave way to a chilling darkness.
"You think I wouldn't discover your little secret?" Faith snapped, her voice suddenly cold, the hand that had just tenderly swept a strand of hair from her eyes closing around that same hair and pulling it hard. Buffy nearly cried out in surprise. "I know. And you'll never be able to tell anyone, because-"
Buffy gasped then, not from shock but from a sudden pleasure that shot like white-heat through her body. She trembled under the other girl's biting gaze and the feelings that were whirling wildly through her body. Faith was at it again...
Suddenly she let go of Buffy's hair and backed up. In the blink of an eye, the rose in her hand had turned into Faith's dagger, the same deadly weapon Buffy had used to put her in the hospital. The other girl twirled it between her fingertips, delighting in the cool metal. She turned her wicked smile to Buffy, who stood frozen in sudden terror and pleasure, her breathing heavy.
"Seems I'm always the one getting gutted," she said, sounding almost amused, "while you always end up getting hurt. And this time I won't just be hurting you, I'll be hurting this thing you love so desperately..." She leaned closer to Buffy, who's breath was coming rapidly and body was trembling with need. "Revenge is a bitch, sweetheart...and so am I."
She brought the knife up to her lips and kissed it, feeling the deadly weapon gleam beneath her lips. With a giggle, she patted her stomach reassuringly. " 'Night night, little one," Faith whispered as she gripped the dagger in both hands and drove it deep into her belly before Buffy had the chance to even realize what was happening.
"NO!" Buffy screamed as an orgasm ripped through her body, the emotional pain of Faith's deed overshadowing the pleasure. She gasped in horror as Faith laughed, her voice rasping as blood seeped through the white dress from the deep wound. "My baby!"
With a shudder, she woke up to find Angel looming over her in frantic concern. Buffy had broken out into a cold sweat, and she was crying from the power of the dream and the connection she had with her body. It was so overwhelming and she could do nothing but turn and bury herself in Angel's chest, weeping like a child for a long time before she finally had the courage to look at him.
Angel pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead and drew her close. "What just happened?" he asked in a soft voice. Buffy swallowed hard, trying to moisten her dry mouth.
"I...I had a nightmare," she whispered, her voice nearly cracking at the word. It had been much worse than a nightmare... "And Faith just got pretty happy because I felt it too..."
Angel sighed. "Did you expect anything less from her? I'm actually surprised it's only happened twice so far," he commented, trying to lighten the mood.
"Angel, it was horrible!" she wailed, clutching him to her again. "What she said...what she did."
"Wanna tell me about it?" he asked, his eyes locked on her reassuringly. She sniffled and sighed heavily, leaning back into the pillow.
"She had a rose...and she said looks were deceiving. And then she had a knife...the one I tried to kill her with. She-she stabbed herself with it...she stabbed my body with it..." she broke off as more tears threatened to overwhelm her. Angel smoothed some wet hair out of her eyes as his brow furrowed.
"You said something...something about a baby," he murmured. Buffy gulped as the air promptly left her lungs.
Her secret was out.
She was silent for a long moment, gathering all the strength and courage she had. When she spoke, her voice was raspy with emotions.
"Angel...I'm pregnant."
The silence that filled the room was harsh and cold as Angel digested her news. The whirl of emotions he felt was overwhelming, jealousy rising through the haze to burn brightly in his soul. She carried a child inside her...Riley's child. He'd been able to give her the things Angel had wanted so badly for her...and now she was going to have a baby.
He didn't know what to say.
In the dark, Buffy shivered and wrapped herself in the blankets, trying to control the shuddering that was still racing through her body from the remnants of bliss she had experienced thanks to Faith. And now Angel knew...and he had nothing to say to her.
"Look, I know you must think I'm such a slut or something, but--"
"No, Buffy, not at all," he cut in abruptly, reaching over to turn on the bedside lamp and shifting on the bed. "I would never think that of you. I...uh...I guess congratulations for you and Riley are in order," the vampire stammered.
"Angel," Buffy whispered, her voice soft and somewhat painful, "Riley's not the father."
The room was once again bathed in silence, Buffy refusing to meet Angel's eyes as she spoke to him. It would be too hard to see the disappointment in his eyes...
"Who is, then?" he asked, his voice sounding much harsher than he'd intended. Buffy felt tears well in her eyes.
"I don't know who the father is!" she cried helplessly, the tears spilling down her cheeks. "I was pregnant before Riley and I even started going out, and the only other guy I slept with was a one-night thing that happened in October! The doctor says I'm three months pregnant and--"
"Three months?" Angel repeated, his voice shaky. He'd nearly lost it when she'd mentioned the other man she'd let touch her, but his anger dissipated instantly at her latest revelation. It was the end of February now, which would mean she had gotten pregnant in--
"He says it happened around Thanksgiving," she whispered, playing with the bedspread helplessly, her hands moving on their own volition. "But that's impossible, and--"
"Thanksgiving," Angel echoed, his mind furiously trying to deny what his heart was telling him. It was impossible. That day had been erased and he was the only one with any memory of it... "Does anyone else know?"
She shook her dark head and looked away, the tears in her eyes making the darkened room glisten. "I just found out before Faith showed up. I barely even had time to think about it."
Angel swallowed and glanced at her nervously before looking away again. How could he tell her that there was a very good chance that the baby was his? How could he even think it? She must be wrong...
"Buffy, are-are you sure it's been three months?" Angel asked, turning to look at her. He watched a solitary tear trickle down her cheek and rest at the corner of her lips, and wanted more than anything to be able to take her pain away. She looked at him suddenly, her eyes narrowing ever so slightly as she spoke.
"I'm sure, Angel. I'm three months pregnant."
"Maybe it's some weird Hellmouth thing," he blurted, knowing he was grasping at straws. She was quiet for a moment, studying the lines on her hand. She'd had her palm read once, years before, and the old woman had shown her the line that said she was going to be a mother. It dawned on her that the woman had been right...
"It's not, Angel," she replied, sounding surprisingly sure. She paused, almost ashamed to admit what she said next. "I think that I would know if I had some spawn of Satan growing inside of me. But it feels...different, somehow." Buffy looked at the door leading into the rest of the apartment for a moment. "This is gonna sound crazy but...well, if I didn't know any better I'd say it was yours."
If Angel had had to breathe, he knew the air would have left his body at that moment. He froze and stole a glance at her, his gaze tracing the profile of her face as she stared out into the dark apartment.
"Why do you say that?" he asked, licking dry lips and hoping she wouldn't realize he'd become even paler. She sighed heavily and stifled a yawn, repressing the need for sleep from the draining experience of the nightmare and the stimulation.
"I don't know...maybe I'm just going crazy," she admitted, twisting her hands in her lap. "But...this is gonna sound *so* insane...it feels like there's this part of you that's inside me. I have the tingling feeling I get when you're near...but it's coming from my stomach." She looked at him for a moment, but seeing a mask behind his eyes she looked away again. "God, could I sound crazier?"
Angel was silent for a long time. "I...I don't know what to say, Buffy," he told her honestly. "There's no way I could be the father." Her sigh was deep and sounded of defeat.
"I know," she said. "I mean, I was here for, what, a whole five minutes then, during which I spent about four and a half yelling at you...I was just telling you what I felt." Her tone was sharp and defensive suddenly, as though he had attacked her. Angel grabbed her hand and forced her to look at him, wincing at the painful look she gave him and the tears that shimmered in her dark eyes.
"I know, Buffy, I'm sorry. I didn't mean for it to sound so harsh," he apologized, softly squeezing her hand. She sniffled and seemed to relax a bit.
"I told you it sounded crazy. I mean, I was thinking about it and I realized there was no possible way, unless I'd gotten some kind of amnesia or something for a few hours, and even then it made no sense because of the whole vampire-can't-have-children thing..." she trailed off and yawned.
Angel smiled nervously. If she only knew...but no, it was better this way. The thought of her carrying his child brought him a joy he hadn't felt in a long time, and it was too risky. Even if by some miracle he was the father of her child, his curse still stood and one moment of true happiness would destroy him...
Before he could say anything in reply, a bright light flashed, blinding the two of them. Buffy instinctively leaned into Angel, clutching him as it faded and her eyes adjusted once more. She gasped softly and tightened her grip on him.
A woman stood in the center of the bedroom, her skin silver with strange blue and gold markings. She wore a wrap that covered her body, and she was smiling at the couple before him.
Angel felt dread deep in the pit of his stomach as he stared.
It was the female Oracle, the same one who'd granted his wish to return to the life of a vampire to save Buffy.
"She speaks the truth, Warrior," the Oracle said softly. "You are indeed the creator of those lives."
TBC…
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