TITLE: Life After Death...And Unlife
AUTHOR: Fyre
RATING: Just scraping NC-17
CLASSIFICATION: Buffy/Angel (I feel nauseous as I type this)
SUMMARY: Angel and Buffy have fun and fluffy times (Note: I don't know what fluff is, so I bluffed this :-P) Mind you, I did have the pleasure of angst to. So enjoy! *hugs her angstiness happily*
SPOILERS: All/any episodes.
DISTRIBUTION: You want - ask, take have :)
DISCLAIMER: Not mine. If it was, I would probably be kind and kill both these characters :) Not like I haven't done *that* before!
FEEDBACK: Send it! please! Diss my buffy! make her pay for being the heroine!
AUTHOR'S NOTES: This is Gloveslap 28 on YGTS? (combined with improv 20 on BuffyAngelImprov) and basically, I want all the world to know that I despise and hate Buffy and Angel over all other canon couples in the show. (Maybe thats why my only canon couple end up as Dru/Spike...hmmm...)
DEDICATION: Trina, I swear I'll be avenged for this! Enjoy this, while you can, son of a smelly person. Give me time, little person *rubs her mitts together and looks sinister and psychotic in her corner* Just give me time...


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


He's wet.

I got him good!

It's simple really. Once you lose the super-vamp hearing, you're as vulnerable as the rest of us and even he didn't suspect it when I snuck up with a bucket of water and...

Aiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiie!

`Noooooo! No tickles!'

He grins at me. Always grinning now. And he always, always fakes deafness when I scream for mercy from the tickles. He's old, he claims. And he has a scarily fun sense of humour. Un-death does that, he claims. No happiness clause, either.

Then he lifts my top and slaps his soaking wet head on my belly! Ack! Cold! Evil, naughty human begets evil naughty vampire and anyone dumb enough to have a former vampire's soggy head down their shirt should know that.

Thinking about it, I could use my minor advantage, but no! What would be the fun if I threw him across the room?

Well...we did that throwing thing last night...

`You...bloody...idiot...' Water and white shirts don't mix!

`Bloody?' The eyebrows rise. No more caveman brow...although I wouldn't object to him dragging me back to his cave and rutting with me. Hell, we do that all the time. `Since when did you become Miss Brit?'

Okay. For that, he dies! He can call me anything...snooglebum, poochiepoo...even khazakaritova (and yes, he has, believe it or not. I thought it was romantic until I looked it up in a dictionary that Giles had (what a surprise) and found out that it literally means `Swallower of Penis'. He claimed innocence. Said he was using a different demon language to the one I found. Yeah, right!).

Anyway...if there's one thing he can NOT call me, it's English!

I'm not a she-Giles (aka Kendra) and I'm not a she-Spike (God only knows what one of them would be. And if one exists, remind me to kill it. Put it out of it's misery.) and I'm not a she-Wesley (Thank God for small mercies) and I'm just not English in any way or form.

And he knows it and he's not grinning anymore.

Oh God...he's giggling.

The pillow in my hand explodes over his head. Whoopsie. Slayer strength. See my shocked and horrified look! Not only has his hair been washed free of goop, but...gasp! Now, he has feathers all over him! And he can actually see how stupid he looks in the mirror.

`I am...El Pollo Diablo...' He tries to mimic a cheesy Spanish guitar sound from some computer game or other. I don't know. I'm too busy keeping my legs crossed to stop myself from having a little accident.

El Pollo Diablo.

Oh brother.

My ex-vampire hunnie of two centuries plus is calling himself the Devil Chicken. Angel, sweetie, love muffin...remember that nice jacket with all the buckles...

Actually, iksnay on that idea!

Straight jackets are guaranteed to lead to kinky smoochies.

Not that I'm complaining, but I'm going to the doctors in half an hour. Yep. He's been human for what...six months? Coming up on the big seven. And he's already got Angel: The Next Generation (God, that sounds like a cheesy TV show that Warner Brothers would show on a Tuesday night!) in the making.

A father with a birth and death certificate from 18th Century Ireland and a mother with a death certificate from two years ago. Ooh. I see this baby having an interesting life. `Yeah, my parents both died. One was an undead fiend, the other one fought the undead fiends...how cool is that?'

It'll certainly make things interesting on career day.

I've been waiting until I was sure. I've done a lot of tests, maybe about ten. Some came out yes, some came out no, but I've waited for a few weeks before going to the doctors. I don't like `em much. My return from the dead seems to interest them a bit too much.

He looks at me again and I know what he's thinking.

`No!'

`What?'

`No sex!'

He looks injured. Oh God! For once he wasn't thinking with his...er...brain. `What, then?'

`Don't I get an apology for you being so presumptuous?' Damn! Still using the big words. And double-damn! He wants an apology. And, technically, I don't have a choice in the matter. I can pummel him, but he can refuse me rabbit-action for the next six weeks. I'll have to actually spend the nights asleep...oh God...no way!

Sure, he'd miss it too, but there's something that has to be accounted for. He had a hundred or more years practise with that hand, so I know he's good...

No! No going into wrong-lusty-thoughts about prominent, stick-out things that interconnect with other...things.

`Okay, okay.' I glare at him. He knows he's about to get pummeled and he turns big old soulful eyes on me. Melting Buffy, present and correct. `All right, already! I'm sorry! I'm sorry I thought you wanted to have naughtiness...'

He grins again, like butter wouldn't melt in his mouth (which tastes icky, if you try it. Or worse, lard. The things I put up with for Xander and his...science projects at High School). `I guess you want to know what I was thinking, huh?'

`Well, it wasn't naughtiness.'

I'm pounced. Oh, help. Watch me struggle, like the feeble damsel I am. He smirks. `Actually,' Says he. `I was thinking about making you my plate...y'see, I have this nummy great big bottle of chocolate syrup and you *know* how much I like chocolate syrup and how much I love you, so what's better than combining my two favourite things?'

`You cheated!'

He smirks. `What can I say?' He kisses me and I'm a lump of jello. The bright green kind with marshmallows in it. Ack! I forgot he likes the green jello. He likes to pick the marshmallows out even more! Way scary visual place...

Marshmallows and chocolate syrup...

`Well...' he looks down at me and kisses the tip of my nose. He likes my nose. I don't know why. It looks weird. Its like it has a little square in the end. He says it makes it distinct. Distinct, stupid...it's still my nose. `Since we have two hours until your appointment...what ya wanna do?'

Uh. Rewind. Musta misheard that.

`It's in half an hour, sweetie.'

He grins that knowing grin and I smack him in the gut. `Not when you phone yesterday and ask for a later appointment...' One hand snakes behind his back and he bends to kiss me. Even after all this time, my eyes still close when his mouth meets mine.

ICK!

I shoulda known! I just shoulda known!

I open my eyes to glare at him. Mister Ex-vampire-so-you-can't- stake-me-nanny-nanny-boo-boo grins at me over my chocolate-syrup covered breasts. So that's why the water went there...to make sure there was no

BRAAAAAAAAAAA....

When did ice cubes come into this? Ice cubes? When? Cold!

`You don't like?' He tries to pout, fails miserably.

I pretend to try and pull away, glaring at him all the while. `My nipples are cold.' I proclaim, thanking God I no longer live with Dawn or Willow.

That `thank God' rapidly becomes `Oh God...'. Now, repeat fifty times in rapid succession, as your hot-lipped honey licks chocolate of parts of your body you've never even seen before. Whoo! I forgot...long tongue...loooooong tongue...

Screw the doctor.

Nix that.

Screw the Angel.

***

Lucky for my pet vamp, he didn't lose his stamina when he oh-so- tragically lost his death. Hot and horny and just the way I like it.

The doctor says I have a pleasant glow in my cheeks. Angel puffs up and struts like a proud cock. Which he is. Six feet and more of walking, talking, perpetually horny and screwable cock and he's all mine!

The doctor can tell and gives me a wink.

She's about the same age as Giles and as mild-mannered as can be.

We sit down and tell her why we've come. She looks pleased and not at all surprised. I think mom used to talk to this doc at a book club or something. She knew about my Angel, at least she knew the basics.

`So, how far do you think you may be on?'

I shrug. `Well...' Angel grins proudly, waiting for me to give an estimate of the months and times we've been trying for this tiny, pink, human purpose. `Unless he was firing blanks the first times...' He deflates at that and pokes me ticklishly in the ribs. I giggle. `I'd say about ten weeks.'

She smiles again. I think she has one of those weird monitor things they use to see the baby inside and I feel like singing. I'm going to see my baby.

She takes us to another room. This one's dark and I feel Angel's hand massaging the base of my back. At least, that's where it started. Somehow, by the time she picked up the jelly to squeeze on my belly, he was cupping my naked ass.

And, timed perfectly, as always, the moment she squeezes the icy gel onto my skin, I feel one probing finger lazily pushed into me. How he gets his hand to function at those angles, I will never know. All I do know is that I practically flew off the bed.

`It is rather cold, isn't it, Buffy?' She looks to me and all I can do is nod vacantly.

Then she starts to move the electric thing (what? I'm a slayer. I don't study medicine!) and a soft thump-thump-thump can be heard. Angel's hand withdraws and his other hand finds mine. I get tears in my eyes.

That's our baby.

The doctor smiles over at us again.

Then, she looks at the screen, frowns.

Angel doesn't notice. I look up and find his eyes misty. He hasn't noticed that there is something worrying the doctor.

`What is it?' I have to ask. Is it deformed? One? Twins? Dying? Living? An alien?

She slowly draws back from the monitor. At the bottom of the screen I can see a tiny form. A small head. A tiny body. The cord. The little arms and legs. Everything looks fine to me. I can even see the heart beating.

Picking up a pencil, she points to a dark mass at the top of the screen. `This is what's worrying me, Buffy.' She says slowly. I look. It looks normal to me, but I'm not a doctor.

`Is it meant to be like that?' I ask, trying not to sound to stupid. She shakes her head and suddenly, Angel's fingers grip mine. Something isn't right here. `Well, what is it?' I feel sick. My baby might be dying.

She gestures again. `It's about as large as a small melon.' She says evasively. She sounds like the doctors mom saw in the hospital. The metal rail of the bed crumples in my hand and she looks at me and I know something is very wrong.

`D-do you know what it is?' I demand, hoarse.

`There could be many contributing factors...a...a...'

I know getting angry is the wrong thing to do, but I can't help it. I asked a question and I'll be damned if I don't get an answer. `Cut the crap.' I don't need this. I have to know what's going on and I have to know. Now. `What do you think it is?'

She looks at me, eyes full of pity.

`Cancer.'



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