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As usual, all characters are copyright of Warner Brothers and whatever other parties own them. I appreciate all the feedback
concerning this story, esp. from other fans of the show. I'm relieved readers understand that I'm not trying to slam the program.

Special thanks to D.L. for his feedback before this chapter began. Our discussions led to some of the plot and character
development.



Buffy The Vampire Slayer: Spike's Revenge
By Why Now

Chapter Three

When you're carrying a vampire child, morning sickness begins after dark. Buffy, prostrate over a tombstone, let her dinner
cascade onto the ground below. She gasped for air, then stood, a clammy sweat chilling her in the night air, and shook off the
vertigo.

"You're going to be ready soon, you know," said a voice behind her. Jenny Calendar leaned against a stone railing, smoking a
cigarette, and watched the Slayer with interest. She was shoeless in a long black skirt. Hoop rings, almost touching her
shoulders, hung from her ears.

Buffy shuddered, then recovered. "You shouldn't smoke," she retorted. "Bad for the baby."

Jenny laughed as she stubbed out the last of her cigarette. "Did you forget we're giving birth to vampires? They're the undead.
A little smoke isn't going to hurt them."

Steps on the footpath interrupted Buffy. The Slayer and her former instructor slid behind a wooded copse and peered out from
the darkness. Angel passed. He seemed to be looking for someone. Within moments he disappeared over a hill.

"Boyfriend problems?" Jenny whispered.

"Shut up," Buffy replied. "Get your mind on our task. Spi...Master...is probably hungry. If we don't bring someone back he's
going to be pissed. Let's get out of here."

The gypsy stretched. "I don't know why we're in the graveyard, anyway. This was your idea." She padded toward the gate,
leaving the Slayer to follow.

Buffy considered the issue as they emerged onto a poorly lit residential avenue. I'm unaccustomed to stalking the living.
Everything I've ever hunted dwelled in the cemetery. Where does one find warm-blooded prey?

Less than ten minutes passed before a jogger left the illumination of the nearest streetlight. He didn't reach the next.



"God-damn, I hate it when meals were in shape! Their muscles are much too tough."

Spike drained the victim and left the body for his minions. His slaves stood, dressed in matching black silk, before him. He
fingered each belly before standing back and folding his arms behind him.

"Maybe a week. Vampire children come quickly, with little gestation. The growth process is similar to the turning of a living
being into a vampire. That can happen overnight. This takes only a little longer." He smiled. Calendar seemed to have no fear in
her eyes at all. She seemed relaxed, almost feline. Her lips formed a tight straight line. The Slayer, on the other hand, didn't
raise her face to him. He used his forefinger to lift her chin. Buffy's eyes metamorphosed from wide plates to hazy pools in his
gaze.

"We need space for the birth," Spike continued. "I require your mother in my power. Your bedroom will suffice as a nursery.
Take her tonight. Now."

His two slaves curtsied (a reminder of English manners that, although unneccessary, pleased him) and left.

"One more thing," he called. Jenny and Buffy stopped and turned. "No more joggers."



Buffy's Mother entered her home with a bag of groceries in each arm. "Buffy?" she called. She could hear music playing
upstairs. Ms. Summers didn't look too much like her daughter, but she was still pretty. Her visage betrayed the constant stress
one faces when, as a single mother, one raises a teenage girl. She wore khaki's and a blue sweater. She sighed as her hand
touched the bannister and she slowly, step after step, began to climb the stairs.

"Buffy?" she called again. She stopped in the hallway. Do I smell smoke? she wondered. A giggle, muted by the door, escaped.
Not Buffy. An older woman. Ms. Summers knocked.

"Buffy? What's going on in there?"

The door opened, exposing a darkened room. Two black eyes above a cheshire grin peered from within. The grin disappeared
as the lips formed an "O" against the black. Streams of smoke emerged from the circle and entered Ms. Summer's nostrils.
Someone cackled as the Slayer's mother fell to her knees. The door flew open, and the last thing Ms. Sommers saw, before the
magic took over, was her daughter, eyes blazing red, chanting above candles while her computer teacher stood with a
hand-rolled cigarette in her hand.



"Come in."

Buffy invited Spike, her Master, into the house. Somewhere in her mind, she knew one of her last defenses had crumbled. The
vampire couldn't enter her house without her permission, and she had given it as casually as a summer greeting.

"Thank you, princess." Spike replied. "Where's my new plaything?"

"You must mean me." Ms. Summers called from the kitchen. She strode into the room wearing black leather leggings, a leather
jacket, and a satin bra. Boots climbed near her knees.

"I've been waiting to meet the father of my grandchild," she said, as she fluffed up her teased hair and kissed the vampire. The
gypsy was sitting on the couch watching with detached amusement.

"So what did you use, Jenny?" Spike asked.

"The smoke spell. Very effective, and sort of entertaining."

The vampire's eye slitted as he inspected Jenny Calendar. He realized she was starting to enjoy her new role. He was
interrupted by a nibble on his ear.

"Jenny, go hunting. I have to speak with the Summers family." The gypsy rose and disappeared out the door. Spike motioned
for Buffy to sit between him and her mother.

"Buffy," he whispered, running his fingers through her virginal blonde hair, "I'm concerned that you're not, um, in the spirt of
things. That you're only going through the motions. Your mother and I would like you to embrace what we're teaching you.
We'd like you to embrace your role in the vampire lifestyle."

The slayer shuddered. She knew he was trying to tap into some bizarre paternal role and manipulate her with it. This man, she
told herself, no, this creature was the father of her baby. Not her father.

Her mother touched her forearm. "Listen to your Master, darling. We only want what's best. Wouldn't it be so much better if
you just gave up and went with the program?"

The Slayer was crying. I'm going to have his child. I'm going to have it even if I detest this bastard vampire. I can feel the baby
kicking. I can feel it. This is my fate. Why not go with it? With every ounce of strength she relinquished, she could feel the
vampire's hold on her increase. Visions set into her consciousness. She saw herself in red leather, wearing horns, standing with
a pitchfork while her Watcher was tormented. Another set of images, these showing her friends by her side in Spike's service,
flitted past. The Slayer licked her lips.

"I taste good, don't I, Slayer." Spike kissed her. She laughed playfully and kissed him back, then waved as he led her mother
upstairs.



Jenny was flipping through spellbooks in her office when football practice ended. She was looking for new and interesting
enslavement spells. Her mind was occupied by one involveing feline transformation when Brad Lewis, one of the linemen,
interrupted her concentration.

"Ms. Calendar, you got a minute?" he asked.

"Sure," she replied. She closed her book and smiled. Before her sat a bronzed God, a gorgeous specimen. He wore padded
football pants but no shirt. His long black hair hung onto his dirty shoulders.

"I...I need some advice. I was thinking of asking out Cordelia, but she's sort a snot. What should I do?" He was glad to get the
concern off his chest. Ms Calendar had a reputation as the kind of teacher who would help her students through difficult
situations, and he had always liked her.

She stood and slid onto the desk next to him. "Why wouldn't she go out with you? You're fucking...you're beautiful." She put
her hand on his naked shoulder.

"Um...thanks," he replied. Brad shifted in his chair.

"Do I make you uncomfortable?" Jenny asked. The door closed behind her.

Brad stood, then sat again. "Thought someone was there," he said.

"No one's here. No one but me. And you. Us." Jenny slid onto his lap. Brad touched the inside of her leg through the skirt, then
placed his palm onto her breast.

"What were you saying about Cordellia?" Jenny teased.

"Nothing. Fuck her." he replied. He was sliding out of his pants while she laughed.

"Perhaps I will, Brad. Perhaps I will." The gypsy let him undress her. She knew teenage boys liked to do that to their women.
He touched her clit with his lips only for a second, then stood, expectantly, and waited for her to kneel. She did, slowly, and
lubricated his hardness. He cleared her desk and laid her down. So strong, she mused. He could pick me up with one arm, but
still I can see the fear in his eyes. As he entered her, she began to chant into his ear. Their sweat mingled as he grunted with
each thurst. She tilted her head like an interested kitten, letting soft moans escape her lips. By the time he came, Brad knew
more about vampires than he ever wanted to know.

Jenny dressed, watching the young man as he stared straight ahead of him, standing at attention. I wonder if Spike will have him
for dinner? Maybe a bodyguard?



"Report, Jenny."

"I've found a slew of good spells. I can easily turn Willow into a whore. Xander might be an interesting transgender, unless
Drusilla wants him. Don't know about Cordelia yet. Leave Giles to me."

The vampire nodded from his chair. His slaves were strewn on the floor before him in the Summer's living room. Brad stood,
wrists crossed, behind his Master.

"Decent work with this one, whatever his name is, behind me. A simple chant, right? What about Angel?"

"Leave Angel to me," Buffy whispered. The gypsy and the vampire exchanged surprised looks.

"You think you can handle him?" Spike inquired.

"Master," Buffy replied, her chin on his knee, "I am the vampire slayer, don't forget."

Spike laughed. "Yes, I guess you are. We'll discuss this later." He turned to Jenny. "I want Giles out of the way. But he's too
smart. We need to weaken his support system first. Start tonight. With Buffy's help. Once they're out of the way, Angel will be
an easy mark."

The gypsy looked at the floor, then at the vampire. "We might need to wait a few days."

The vampire eyebrows arched. "What the hell are you talking about?" he asked.

"The children are due either tomorrow night or the next. We might be too weak."

Spike reddened. "Of course. Of course! Call in sick, then contact Giles and tell him to patrol for Buffy. Tell him she's visiting
her father. I'll keep the Watcher busy."

Jenny picked up the phone and began to dial.



Vampire children do not cry as they enter this earth. They seem to grit their teeth, careful not to cut themselves with their own
fangs. Buffy bled over her own bed as her daughter was born into the darkness of the summer night. A wave of black power
shuddered over Sunnydale, and was repeated in twenty-four hours when the gypsy brought forth her own daugher. As the two
slaves recuperated, Spike watched his children grow. They would appear to be teenagers, able to hunt, within a week. He
wondered if Ms. Summers was carrying as well. He would have one of his minions inspect her.

Buffy and Jenny convalesced in the basement, their daughters in their arms, until their strength returned. They nursed their
children, undisturbed by the multiple bite marks near each of their nipples. When Buffy, her strength returning, tried to leave the
front door during daylight, the intensity of the sun pushed her back into the safety of the shade.

She turned, while Spike and Jenny watched, and shed every last piece of her clothing, as if in release, in acceptance. The
Slayer kneeled before her Lord.

"I'm one of your killers now. I know...I'm hungry. Let me hunt, Master."

Spike laughed, and handed her a costume. Red leather, horns, and a tail.

"Welcome to my world, Slayer. Demon. Slayerdemon."

Buffy jolted as the first phase of her undeath rode her consciousness. The gypsy leaned close to her ear.

"I can feel it too, Buffy," she said. "Isn't it delicious?"

    

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