: Never Piss off a Pregnant SlayerAUTHOR
: Buffy the Vampire SlayerPAIRING
: Spike/Xander. GENRE
: 096. Writer’s Choice. (Ridiculous) RATING
: PGWORD COUNT
: 762 wordsSUMMARY
: After Spike pisses off a pregnant Buffy, Angel gets revenge, inadvertently torturing Xander. WARNINGS
: None. Angst.NOTES
: X-Posted to lover100
. Something mysticsoblivion
can read, that’s not depressing. Spike may be a little OOC, but there’s a specific reason not revealed until the final line.DISCLAIMER
: You recognize them? I don’t own them.
“Spike.” Xander stifled a peal of laughter. “When I left this morning, you definitely were not
pregnant,” Spike, now very pregnant, glanced up from the chair.
“Pissed the Slayer off.” he began. “When I mentioned the fact she waddled. So, Angel showed up this morning, lecturing me. Human or not, still need to respect my Grandsire. Have to wear this damn thing for a week.” He lifted the pale green maternity shirt up, to reveal a canvas contraption. “Two seven pound steel balls to simulate Baby.”
“Anything else?” Xander asked, unable to fully
believe what he was seeing.
“Locked in it. Angel has the only key.” He pulled the shirt up, to reveal a series of chains and a padlock.
“What exactly did you say to her that we’re being tortured?” Xander asked, opening a beer can. He sipped it, waiting for his lover to answer.
“Called her a duck.” Spike admitted sheepishly. Xander grimaced, before bursting into hysterical laughter.
“Let me see if I get this.” Xander sat in a recliner, still laughing. “You called a hormonally challenged Slayer, namely Buffy, a a duck
. She got pissed and sent her ex-vampire husband for payback. Due to vampire custom, you have to obey everything
your sire says. So, he chains and locks you into a fake pregnant belly
Am I understanding?”
“Yes. Love. That’s pretty much it.” Spike sighed. “My ankles are starting to swell.”
“Um. Will. You know I love you, but in order for to have swollen ankles, You need to drink water and retain fluid.” Xander muttered. Spike crossed his arms over his chest. “One more thing. No sex until that thing’s off.”
“It’s because I’m fat, isn’t it?”
Xander was in hell.
He was on the edge of the bed, one thin pillow under his head. Spike would not stop tossing and turning. He had also managed to steal the other pillows. Every few minutes, he would kick Xander, in his sleep. I am going to kill Angel, and Buffy.
he thought. As Spike kicked him a fifth time, he threw a robe on, grabbed his pillow, and blanket, and prepared to sleep on the couch.
“Why are you on the couch, Pet?” Spike waddled into the living room. “Bed bugs biting?”
“You stole my pillows, and kicked me five times.” Xander spat, massaging a kink out of his neck. “It was easier to sleep on the couch.” He sat up. “Do you know how much I’m hating Not-dead-anymore-boy?”
“Probably not half
as much as me,” Spike muttered, resting his hand on his belly. “Bloody Hell. My back’s killing me.” He rubbed the small of his back.
When Xander ran into Angel at the office, it took every ounce of his willpower not to attack Angel.
“If it wasn’t for my unborn Godchild, you’d be dead
by now.” Xander snarled, adding cream to his coffee.
“What?” Angel glanced innocently around.
“Part of being gay usually
means no excessive dealing with hormonal pregnant people. Except I now have Spike…moody and restless. I slept on the couch last night because he wouldn’t stop kicking me. He thinks his ankles are swollen.” Xander sipped his coffee.
“He’s getting a taste of what Buffy’s going through.” Angel said, chuckling. “Don’t worry. Noon tomorrow.”
Noon tomorrow wasn’t soon enough for Xander. He realized this when he found Spike, sitting in HIS
chair, crocheting happily. The Spike he knew would never crochet. Especially not a baby blanket.
“Spike. You do realize there are steel balls in there, don’t you? Not a baby.”
Xander reached for a flask, and sipped heavily. He despised the taste of Bourbon, but he needed it. Before he killed someone. “When do you crochet? I know everything about you, and ‘knows how to crochet’ has never come up.”
“Looked it up on the ‘net. For the Slayer’s Baby.” he said, continuing to crochet. “I was being sentimental.” Xander shook his head. “Didn’t cook. Do you want to order a pizza? My treat?”
“Sure…” Xander muttered, sipping more Bourbon.
“Anchovy and pepperoni.” Spike muttered. “Wait…garlic’s bad…Pepperoni and mushroom.” Xander blinked. Didn’t Spike hate mushrooms? “Craving.”
Xander couldn’t believe he was dealing with cravings now. This was getting ridiculous.
He came downstairs from a shower, aghast to find Spike crying
“What now?” Xander muttered. Spike glanced up sniffling.
“The toilet paper dog’s sweet.” he bawled. Xander finished the bourbon, and grabbed the phone.
“Angel. Get your ass here NOW
! We need this thing off. I know you enchanted it. He’ll apologize to Buffy in writing. Save me!”