Happy Birthday, Petzi!
Happy early Birthday to
petzipellepingo! May your day be bright, may the cats be cuddly, and may the year ahead present you with rich blessings and riveting reads.
In recognition of the awesome pimping you do every morning and the wonderful reviews you give, I offer Baby!Fic - of a sort. Have been considering continuing this as a chaptered fic, but for now I think the first chapter can stand alone.
"Flight to Egypt"
Rated PG
Set during "Not Fade Away"
Right before the brick wall came tumbling down on top of him, the last thing Kyle remembered was trying to decide whether or not he should stop at the KV-Mart or the dairy bar to pick up the milk for Amanda. The KV-Mart's milk was likely cheaper, but the dairy bar's was probably fresher and better for her.
As she glowed in the third month of pregnancy, they'd begun trying to set aside money for the arrival of their child, due to be born that May. If he could get enough jobs over the next few months, they might have enough to buy a little home in the suburbs. Maybe a duplex, but with a backyard...
Then confusion, as he heard a jumble of the other guys calling out to him in alarm, and that growing shadow...
Kyle had been aware that time had passed - six months, he hadn't guessed. But when he woke up, there was Amanda, her pretty, pale face all puffy and red, tears already streaming down her face. She looked about the same, so he assumed that he'd only been out of it for a short time. Then he realized that she was leaning on his hospital bed from a wheelchair, clad in a flimsy hospital gown.
Now they rattled around in their house in the suburbs, trying hard to avoid each other and mostly succeeding.
Their son. She'd given away their son to be the sacrifice to a bunch of cultish demons. Kyle tried not to blame her too much, tamped down on the words inside him that ate away, screaming internally that he much preferred a blank sleep and vague curiosity about his surroundings to this. This empty and long life was not worth their son’s unnaturally brief one.
Kyle had worked in Sunnydale, he knew all too well about demons. If you see them, pretend not to, and they’ll more often than not leave you alone, do you no harm. Don’t approach them, don’t make deals with them, and don’t ever gamble with them because they generally have inherent traits to cheat with. Kind of like the rules for seeing a bear in the wilderness - ‘It’s more afraid of you than you are of it.’ With the notable exception of vampires, this philosophy mostly worked.
And now his son was set to be raised by them, nourished on a diet of meat and urine, until he would be sacrificed at the age of soccer and first kisses.
He knew why Amanda had done it - sheer love and desperation. He repeated this to himself over and over, when the usual small tiff over the toilet seat became an epic screaming match. Don’t make deals with demons. Especially not ones who want to raise your children.
They were taken care of by a monthly stipend, courtesy of his son’s new parents, but Kyle poured through the want ads anyway, looking for something to get himself out of the house. A heavy rain started to fall outside the house, and he heard faint sounds from the kitchen as Amanda put on a kettle for tea.
Bang-bang-bang.
“I wonder who that is,” Amanda said breathlessly, likely glad of the distraction, rushing into the room as Kyle set down his paper and got up. Peering through the blinds, she jumped back as if she’d been burned. “It’s one of the Fell Brethren!”
Now she had his full attention. Taking a defensive stance, Kyle peered through the window at the dark-robed figure and its silhouette against the streetlights illuminating the gleaming sidewalks. Never had he thought to see one of the Fell Brethren, so much so that he had no planned words to say.
He opened the door to the figure underneath the porch awning, still trying to decide what to do - did they need something else? Could he leverage it to keep his son alive? As it turned out, the robed figure didn’t give him a chance to speak. It pushed back the hood to reveal the face of a man, with hair dyed so brilliantly platinum that it hurt the eyes. Several cuts on his face dripped blood into his eyebrows and down his neck.
“Are you Amanda and Kyle Bennet?” the man asked of them. He had a pronounced English accent, and a rangy look about him, as if he was used to being pursued - perhaps because of his long out-of-date resemblance to Billy Idol. Once his hood on his head was back, the arm went back to clutching something to his chest.
“You’re not one of the bretheren,” observed Amanda, who had slipped under Kyle’s arm to stand beside him in the doorway. With a growing sense of horror, Kyle’s eyes focused on a puddle near their stoop, reflecting everything but the man in the big black cape.
“Nope, hated the uniform. But they should be showing up soon, so we need to get going. Let me in, and I’ll fill you in.”
“No way, Jose,” Kyle spoke with authority, moving his arm behind Amanda to grab her waist and pull her back if necessary. “Why don’t you just wait on the stoop till sunlight comes, then we’ll talk.”
“I’ve got no time for this!” snapped back the vampire. “Spin yourselves in circles if you want over my teeth, but I don’t eat people, and I just risked my life to get your boy back to you. Just hope you value him as something other than a sacrificial goat.”
From the shelter of the coarse black opera cape, the vampire produced a newborn baby, wrapped snugly and looking fretful. Big, big blue eyes looking out inquisitively from a round little face, feathery blond hair on his head, chubby hands that waved about, showing skin as pink as the inside of a seashell. His son.
Rocked by his wife’s confession, the confrontation at Wolfram and Hart wherein Kyle had been thrown onto the sidewalk, the fact Amanda characterized the Brethren’s outpost as impenetrable and likely to move into another dimension, if it hadn’t already, Kyle had given up on his son’s existence. With thirteen years left to go, and powerless to have any sort of say over it, he’d given his son up for dead.
Dear God, he’d let his son go without a protest. And blamed his wife.
But all that was pushed to the back of his mind as he took in the blessing of being able to see his son. In a vampire’s arms...Kyle turned his attention back to the vampire, but Amanda had already jumped forward with a faint cry, over the threshold of the door, Kyle a half-step behind her. But the vampire placed their son into her arms promptly, gently, even.
The newborn squawked at the shift in position, but soon settled into Amanda's arms. Kyle stretched out a hesitant hand, certain that if he touched this little figment, he would evaporate. Instead, his fingers stroked the butter-soft cheek of his son. The baby waved a chubby fist, which he intercepted with a finger. Five little fingers with nails like tiny seashells in turn gripped his finger, then let go, then gripped again, in a tiny squeeze-release rhythm, almost as if the he were reassuring himself of Kyle’s presence.
The vampire was saying something, and Kyle struggled to hear him. “...got to get out of here. They’ll be coming, and this isn’t the sort of custody battle Judge Judy hears.”
“How did you...” Amanda sounded dazed, but her gaze was fixed firmly on her son. “Correcting some legal errors. Angel’s had a change of heart. You know Angel? Tall, dark, good dresser, hair like a gay hedgehog?”
Amanda nodded mechanically, and it seemed to please the vampire.
“Long story short, took this little nipper at swordpoint. Most that I saw were dead, but they’ll be more, and they know where you live. They’ll be back, so if you want to keep him this time, run. Now.”
“Now?” Kyle parroted, not listening.
“Yes, now! I realize I’ve got an accent, but I’m still speaking the same bloody language! Get your passports and let’s go,” snarled the blond.
Amanda seemed to hesitate. "Shouldn't we pack a few things?"
"Grab your purse - but you'll need the passports. I'm sending you to some old friends of mine that'll take care of you."
"I know where they are," his wife said in a rush, taking this miracle with both hands. "Kyle, hold him? Just support the head..." Within moments, she'd deposited their infant son into his hands.
Kyle held his son awkwardly in his hands, wanting to pull him close, but afraid to hurt him. The baby squirmed, not liking this position, arching his back.
"Pull him into your chest a bit, give him a cuddle," the vampire advised, fiddling in his pockets. "He'll feel more secure that way."
Gently, as if his son could break with one wrong move, Kyle cradled him against his chest. The newborn wiggled, then slowly began to relax, restless little muscles softening. In the palm of the hand that cradled the baby's head, he could feel the steady pulse, reassuring him that the child was alive. And his.
His features, which had been drawn into the wrinkled grimace of a pouty old man smoothed out - and then Kyle's son opened his eyes. Large, stunningly blue eyes looked up into his own - and how was it possible for a baby that size to have eyes that large? - and Kyle was lost. This child was his - that had to be Amanda's nose and eyes, but the shape of the face was his, the full little lips. Father and son stared at each other frankly.
Before, Kyle thought he would never recognize his child, once he concluded he would never be a part of its short life. Now, he knew that he could pick out his own son in a nursery-full of babies without trouble. The thought of being without him - never. Never, ever again.
At the thought, his eyes broke from their study of ten tiny fingers to regard the vampire, who had retreated to a safe distance under the porch awning in order to smoke a cigarette, smoke puffed away from the vicinity of the infant's tender lungs.
"He's a good one, your son," the vampire offered, seeing Kyle regard him. "Not a peep from 'im the whole way here."
Kyle broke his gaze to turn back to his child, who still watched him, almost as if he was waiting to hear his father speak. "I never..." Kyle started, then broke off a moment, feeling tears rise up and knot in his throat. "I never thought I would see him."
The vampire/ '80s refugee took a final drag on his cigarette before tossing it into the decorative flower boxes that came with the house. Eyes as blue as his son's evaluated with a glance the grip with which Kyle held the infant, the expression on his face, the trembling of his hands.
"S'not my place, mate, but your wife..." the vampire trailed off, looking vaguely embarrassed.
"My wife what?" Kyle snapped back, a little more heatedly than he intended. God, what else had she done?
"Just offering a bit of free advice," the vampire glared at him, fingers of his left hand itching as if they needed another cigarette to hold. "Don't be too hard on your wife. Amanda's not the first person to do something extraordinarily stupid in the name of love."
Before Kyle could respond, Amanda burst out of the house, purse swinging madly from her shoulder, one of her own baby blankets clutched in her hands.
"Good," the vampire said at the sight of their passports, pulling another out of his coat pocket, along with plane tickets. "I've got one for Junior here. Gave him a cover name you can change on your whim."
"Where are we going?" Kyle asked, unconsciously stroking his son's back, soothing him during while voices were raised.
"Italy," the vampire said, now pulling something out of his jeans pocket. "Go to this address in Rome - take a cab, it's not far. A woman, her little sister, and a boy live there. The girls may not believe this -" here he pressed a heavy, resume-quality envelope into Amanda's hand - "If they don't, ask the boy - Andrew - to confirm it. Tell him that Spike said it's okay. If he doesn't believe you, tell him Gandalf's returned and likely to upgrade his colors - again."
"Who are the girls?" Amanda asked, while deftly spreading the quilted baby blanket over her son.
"Buffy's the elder, the blonde, and Dawn's the younger, brunette. If anyone in this world can protect you, it's Buffy, and the army she's got behind her." The vampire spoke quietly, momentarily subdued from the restless energy that had crackled from him as they waited. Pulling his cloak from the ground and wrapping himself back in it with a fluidity of movement that Kyle envied, the vampire once again became the tenth Nazgul. "Give him here. If anyone's watching, it'll just look like I'm taking him back and you're coming with."
Reluctantly, Kyle passed his son back to Spike, tucking the pink-and-white blanket around him more securely. The baby gave a short gurgling cry, then turned his face into the cloak.
“C’mon. Eyes forward.” And with that, they went down the sidewalk, hunched against the driving rain, to the little black sports car idling on the corner. Spike pulled open a back door, bending over to strap the baby in a newly-purchased car seat. After a short dance, Amanda ended up in the backseat with their child, while Kyle took shotgun.
The ride to the airport was quiet, save for Amanda’s cooing to her baby in the backseat. Kyle was surprised at how it warmed his heart, now that he let it. Spike was busy backtracking and watching the rearview mirror. Kyle contented himself with trying to relax and listen to their child and the steady sliding sound of the windshield wipers.
At the airport, Spike pulled back his hood, easing them down the drive of brightly-lit airline signs.
“When you get in, stay together and stay in the open. Don’t even use the loo, even if the bitlet here busts a diaper,” he ordered crisply. “Don’t look around too much. You shouldn’t be waiting long for the flight, and I’ve got some duffles in the back - you’ll look suspicious without any luggage.”
He blew out his cheeks a moment. “Damn terrorists. Doesn’t feel right, sending you in without so much as a nail clipper in defense.”
They pulled off at a Delta kiosk, sheltered under a roof in the dim light. Kyle jumped out, feeling a tad claustrophobic. He fiddled with the car seat’s straps, finally figuring it out. Amanda showed him the handle, and with some trepidation, Kyle allowed the seat to swing from the handle, breathing out in relief when it held.
Spike pulled out two newly-purchased duffels and a baby bag, hastily purchased from the local Wal-Mart and stuffed with several random items and handed them over to Amanda and Kyle. Amanda shouldered the baby bag and her purse, before turning with a change of mood and a quiet sob into Spike’s arms.
“I didn’t say it before, but thank you!” she wept into the vampire’s neck. “I made such a huge mistake, and I didn’t think I’d ever see him again. I didn’t know, I didn’t know.” Her voice became higher and higher with every word. Without a trace of jealousy - indeed, far too taken aback for thoughts of that kind tonight - Kyle watched as the bewildered vampire awkwardly patted her back.
“S’no problem,” Spike said hastily. “Champion of the helpless, protector of puppies and all that rot.” He handed her a duffle, which she took after wiping her cheeks.
Kyle extended a hand manfully to the vampire, which Spike took and shook in a cool grip so different from the small, warm grip of his son’s hand. Who was this man…vampire? “Thank you.”
“Be careful,” Spike murmured. “Even if they don’t look like demons, don’t trust them. Likely as not they’ve got some humans working for them.”
He turned his attention to the baby, asleep in its car seat. “Good luck, little man.”
He waved them off, and despite the bulk of the baby seat in one hand and a duffel in the other, Kyle managed to wind an arm around Amanda’s waist, the first time he’d done so since he’d awoken in the hospital. As they passed through the sliding doors to the ticketing booths, Kyle chanced a look back over his shoulder. Leaning against the car, Spike was smoking a cigarette, watching then go, steadfastly ignoring the kiosk man’s attempts to get him to move his car. Who was he?
As they waited in line, Kyle whispered into the blonde locks over Amanda’s ear. “What name did he give our son?”
Amanda set down her duffle, pulling the passports and tickets out of her purse, and flipping open the new passport. “William. Wiliam Randall Bennett.”
“Huh.” They’d never thought about it before - not seriously, anyway. “William’s okay. Not too thrilled with Randall. No son of mine will be named Randy.”
Amanda smiled, and he saw the beginnings of giddy, incredulous joy in her eyes. “It’s something to think about, anyway.”
petzipellepingo! May your day be bright, may the cats be cuddly, and may the year ahead present you with rich blessings and riveting reads.
In recognition of the awesome pimping you do every morning and the wonderful reviews you give, I offer Baby!Fic - of a sort. Have been considering continuing this as a chaptered fic, but for now I think the first chapter can stand alone.
"Flight to Egypt"
Rated PG
Set during "Not Fade Away"
Right before the brick wall came tumbling down on top of him, the last thing Kyle remembered was trying to decide whether or not he should stop at the KV-Mart or the dairy bar to pick up the milk for Amanda. The KV-Mart's milk was likely cheaper, but the dairy bar's was probably fresher and better for her.
As she glowed in the third month of pregnancy, they'd begun trying to set aside money for the arrival of their child, due to be born that May. If he could get enough jobs over the next few months, they might have enough to buy a little home in the suburbs. Maybe a duplex, but with a backyard...
Then confusion, as he heard a jumble of the other guys calling out to him in alarm, and that growing shadow...
Kyle had been aware that time had passed - six months, he hadn't guessed. But when he woke up, there was Amanda, her pretty, pale face all puffy and red, tears already streaming down her face. She looked about the same, so he assumed that he'd only been out of it for a short time. Then he realized that she was leaning on his hospital bed from a wheelchair, clad in a flimsy hospital gown.
Now they rattled around in their house in the suburbs, trying hard to avoid each other and mostly succeeding.
Their son. She'd given away their son to be the sacrifice to a bunch of cultish demons. Kyle tried not to blame her too much, tamped down on the words inside him that ate away, screaming internally that he much preferred a blank sleep and vague curiosity about his surroundings to this. This empty and long life was not worth their son’s unnaturally brief one.
Kyle had worked in Sunnydale, he knew all too well about demons. If you see them, pretend not to, and they’ll more often than not leave you alone, do you no harm. Don’t approach them, don’t make deals with them, and don’t ever gamble with them because they generally have inherent traits to cheat with. Kind of like the rules for seeing a bear in the wilderness - ‘It’s more afraid of you than you are of it.’ With the notable exception of vampires, this philosophy mostly worked.
And now his son was set to be raised by them, nourished on a diet of meat and urine, until he would be sacrificed at the age of soccer and first kisses.
He knew why Amanda had done it - sheer love and desperation. He repeated this to himself over and over, when the usual small tiff over the toilet seat became an epic screaming match. Don’t make deals with demons. Especially not ones who want to raise your children.
They were taken care of by a monthly stipend, courtesy of his son’s new parents, but Kyle poured through the want ads anyway, looking for something to get himself out of the house. A heavy rain started to fall outside the house, and he heard faint sounds from the kitchen as Amanda put on a kettle for tea.
Bang-bang-bang.
“I wonder who that is,” Amanda said breathlessly, likely glad of the distraction, rushing into the room as Kyle set down his paper and got up. Peering through the blinds, she jumped back as if she’d been burned. “It’s one of the Fell Brethren!”
Now she had his full attention. Taking a defensive stance, Kyle peered through the window at the dark-robed figure and its silhouette against the streetlights illuminating the gleaming sidewalks. Never had he thought to see one of the Fell Brethren, so much so that he had no planned words to say.
He opened the door to the figure underneath the porch awning, still trying to decide what to do - did they need something else? Could he leverage it to keep his son alive? As it turned out, the robed figure didn’t give him a chance to speak. It pushed back the hood to reveal the face of a man, with hair dyed so brilliantly platinum that it hurt the eyes. Several cuts on his face dripped blood into his eyebrows and down his neck.
“Are you Amanda and Kyle Bennet?” the man asked of them. He had a pronounced English accent, and a rangy look about him, as if he was used to being pursued - perhaps because of his long out-of-date resemblance to Billy Idol. Once his hood on his head was back, the arm went back to clutching something to his chest.
“You’re not one of the bretheren,” observed Amanda, who had slipped under Kyle’s arm to stand beside him in the doorway. With a growing sense of horror, Kyle’s eyes focused on a puddle near their stoop, reflecting everything but the man in the big black cape.
“Nope, hated the uniform. But they should be showing up soon, so we need to get going. Let me in, and I’ll fill you in.”
“No way, Jose,” Kyle spoke with authority, moving his arm behind Amanda to grab her waist and pull her back if necessary. “Why don’t you just wait on the stoop till sunlight comes, then we’ll talk.”
“I’ve got no time for this!” snapped back the vampire. “Spin yourselves in circles if you want over my teeth, but I don’t eat people, and I just risked my life to get your boy back to you. Just hope you value him as something other than a sacrificial goat.”
From the shelter of the coarse black opera cape, the vampire produced a newborn baby, wrapped snugly and looking fretful. Big, big blue eyes looking out inquisitively from a round little face, feathery blond hair on his head, chubby hands that waved about, showing skin as pink as the inside of a seashell. His son.
Rocked by his wife’s confession, the confrontation at Wolfram and Hart wherein Kyle had been thrown onto the sidewalk, the fact Amanda characterized the Brethren’s outpost as impenetrable and likely to move into another dimension, if it hadn’t already, Kyle had given up on his son’s existence. With thirteen years left to go, and powerless to have any sort of say over it, he’d given his son up for dead.
Dear God, he’d let his son go without a protest. And blamed his wife.
But all that was pushed to the back of his mind as he took in the blessing of being able to see his son. In a vampire’s arms...Kyle turned his attention back to the vampire, but Amanda had already jumped forward with a faint cry, over the threshold of the door, Kyle a half-step behind her. But the vampire placed their son into her arms promptly, gently, even.
The newborn squawked at the shift in position, but soon settled into Amanda's arms. Kyle stretched out a hesitant hand, certain that if he touched this little figment, he would evaporate. Instead, his fingers stroked the butter-soft cheek of his son. The baby waved a chubby fist, which he intercepted with a finger. Five little fingers with nails like tiny seashells in turn gripped his finger, then let go, then gripped again, in a tiny squeeze-release rhythm, almost as if the he were reassuring himself of Kyle’s presence.
The vampire was saying something, and Kyle struggled to hear him. “...got to get out of here. They’ll be coming, and this isn’t the sort of custody battle Judge Judy hears.”
“How did you...” Amanda sounded dazed, but her gaze was fixed firmly on her son. “Correcting some legal errors. Angel’s had a change of heart. You know Angel? Tall, dark, good dresser, hair like a gay hedgehog?”
Amanda nodded mechanically, and it seemed to please the vampire.
“Long story short, took this little nipper at swordpoint. Most that I saw were dead, but they’ll be more, and they know where you live. They’ll be back, so if you want to keep him this time, run. Now.”
“Now?” Kyle parroted, not listening.
“Yes, now! I realize I’ve got an accent, but I’m still speaking the same bloody language! Get your passports and let’s go,” snarled the blond.
Amanda seemed to hesitate. "Shouldn't we pack a few things?"
"Grab your purse - but you'll need the passports. I'm sending you to some old friends of mine that'll take care of you."
"I know where they are," his wife said in a rush, taking this miracle with both hands. "Kyle, hold him? Just support the head..." Within moments, she'd deposited their infant son into his hands.
Kyle held his son awkwardly in his hands, wanting to pull him close, but afraid to hurt him. The baby squirmed, not liking this position, arching his back.
"Pull him into your chest a bit, give him a cuddle," the vampire advised, fiddling in his pockets. "He'll feel more secure that way."
Gently, as if his son could break with one wrong move, Kyle cradled him against his chest. The newborn wiggled, then slowly began to relax, restless little muscles softening. In the palm of the hand that cradled the baby's head, he could feel the steady pulse, reassuring him that the child was alive. And his.
His features, which had been drawn into the wrinkled grimace of a pouty old man smoothed out - and then Kyle's son opened his eyes. Large, stunningly blue eyes looked up into his own - and how was it possible for a baby that size to have eyes that large? - and Kyle was lost. This child was his - that had to be Amanda's nose and eyes, but the shape of the face was his, the full little lips. Father and son stared at each other frankly.
Before, Kyle thought he would never recognize his child, once he concluded he would never be a part of its short life. Now, he knew that he could pick out his own son in a nursery-full of babies without trouble. The thought of being without him - never. Never, ever again.
At the thought, his eyes broke from their study of ten tiny fingers to regard the vampire, who had retreated to a safe distance under the porch awning in order to smoke a cigarette, smoke puffed away from the vicinity of the infant's tender lungs.
"He's a good one, your son," the vampire offered, seeing Kyle regard him. "Not a peep from 'im the whole way here."
Kyle broke his gaze to turn back to his child, who still watched him, almost as if he was waiting to hear his father speak. "I never..." Kyle started, then broke off a moment, feeling tears rise up and knot in his throat. "I never thought I would see him."
The vampire/ '80s refugee took a final drag on his cigarette before tossing it into the decorative flower boxes that came with the house. Eyes as blue as his son's evaluated with a glance the grip with which Kyle held the infant, the expression on his face, the trembling of his hands.
"S'not my place, mate, but your wife..." the vampire trailed off, looking vaguely embarrassed.
"My wife what?" Kyle snapped back, a little more heatedly than he intended. God, what else had she done?
"Just offering a bit of free advice," the vampire glared at him, fingers of his left hand itching as if they needed another cigarette to hold. "Don't be too hard on your wife. Amanda's not the first person to do something extraordinarily stupid in the name of love."
Before Kyle could respond, Amanda burst out of the house, purse swinging madly from her shoulder, one of her own baby blankets clutched in her hands.
"Good," the vampire said at the sight of their passports, pulling another out of his coat pocket, along with plane tickets. "I've got one for Junior here. Gave him a cover name you can change on your whim."
"Where are we going?" Kyle asked, unconsciously stroking his son's back, soothing him during while voices were raised.
"Italy," the vampire said, now pulling something out of his jeans pocket. "Go to this address in Rome - take a cab, it's not far. A woman, her little sister, and a boy live there. The girls may not believe this -" here he pressed a heavy, resume-quality envelope into Amanda's hand - "If they don't, ask the boy - Andrew - to confirm it. Tell him that Spike said it's okay. If he doesn't believe you, tell him Gandalf's returned and likely to upgrade his colors - again."
"Who are the girls?" Amanda asked, while deftly spreading the quilted baby blanket over her son.
"Buffy's the elder, the blonde, and Dawn's the younger, brunette. If anyone in this world can protect you, it's Buffy, and the army she's got behind her." The vampire spoke quietly, momentarily subdued from the restless energy that had crackled from him as they waited. Pulling his cloak from the ground and wrapping himself back in it with a fluidity of movement that Kyle envied, the vampire once again became the tenth Nazgul. "Give him here. If anyone's watching, it'll just look like I'm taking him back and you're coming with."
Reluctantly, Kyle passed his son back to Spike, tucking the pink-and-white blanket around him more securely. The baby gave a short gurgling cry, then turned his face into the cloak.
“C’mon. Eyes forward.” And with that, they went down the sidewalk, hunched against the driving rain, to the little black sports car idling on the corner. Spike pulled open a back door, bending over to strap the baby in a newly-purchased car seat. After a short dance, Amanda ended up in the backseat with their child, while Kyle took shotgun.
The ride to the airport was quiet, save for Amanda’s cooing to her baby in the backseat. Kyle was surprised at how it warmed his heart, now that he let it. Spike was busy backtracking and watching the rearview mirror. Kyle contented himself with trying to relax and listen to their child and the steady sliding sound of the windshield wipers.
At the airport, Spike pulled back his hood, easing them down the drive of brightly-lit airline signs.
“When you get in, stay together and stay in the open. Don’t even use the loo, even if the bitlet here busts a diaper,” he ordered crisply. “Don’t look around too much. You shouldn’t be waiting long for the flight, and I’ve got some duffles in the back - you’ll look suspicious without any luggage.”
He blew out his cheeks a moment. “Damn terrorists. Doesn’t feel right, sending you in without so much as a nail clipper in defense.”
They pulled off at a Delta kiosk, sheltered under a roof in the dim light. Kyle jumped out, feeling a tad claustrophobic. He fiddled with the car seat’s straps, finally figuring it out. Amanda showed him the handle, and with some trepidation, Kyle allowed the seat to swing from the handle, breathing out in relief when it held.
Spike pulled out two newly-purchased duffels and a baby bag, hastily purchased from the local Wal-Mart and stuffed with several random items and handed them over to Amanda and Kyle. Amanda shouldered the baby bag and her purse, before turning with a change of mood and a quiet sob into Spike’s arms.
“I didn’t say it before, but thank you!” she wept into the vampire’s neck. “I made such a huge mistake, and I didn’t think I’d ever see him again. I didn’t know, I didn’t know.” Her voice became higher and higher with every word. Without a trace of jealousy - indeed, far too taken aback for thoughts of that kind tonight - Kyle watched as the bewildered vampire awkwardly patted her back.
“S’no problem,” Spike said hastily. “Champion of the helpless, protector of puppies and all that rot.” He handed her a duffle, which she took after wiping her cheeks.
Kyle extended a hand manfully to the vampire, which Spike took and shook in a cool grip so different from the small, warm grip of his son’s hand. Who was this man…vampire? “Thank you.”
“Be careful,” Spike murmured. “Even if they don’t look like demons, don’t trust them. Likely as not they’ve got some humans working for them.”
He turned his attention to the baby, asleep in its car seat. “Good luck, little man.”
He waved them off, and despite the bulk of the baby seat in one hand and a duffel in the other, Kyle managed to wind an arm around Amanda’s waist, the first time he’d done so since he’d awoken in the hospital. As they passed through the sliding doors to the ticketing booths, Kyle chanced a look back over his shoulder. Leaning against the car, Spike was smoking a cigarette, watching then go, steadfastly ignoring the kiosk man’s attempts to get him to move his car. Who was he?
As they waited in line, Kyle whispered into the blonde locks over Amanda’s ear. “What name did he give our son?”
Amanda set down her duffle, pulling the passports and tickets out of her purse, and flipping open the new passport. “William. Wiliam Randall Bennett.”
“Huh.” They’d never thought about it before - not seriously, anyway. “William’s okay. Not too thrilled with Randall. No son of mine will be named Randy.”
Amanda smiled, and he saw the beginnings of giddy, incredulous joy in her eyes. “It’s something to think about, anyway.”