The Messenger bowed in supplication, stretched over the alter. What a great honor, sacrificing one’s life to bring the High One’s vessel to fruition! Green eyes slid closed in ecstasy as the chancing grew in volume, knowing that honor and greatness was being brought upon the Mishligathianoian House in Service of the High One.

The High One caught the sacrificial blood in a chalice, combining it with the special mixture of herbs that had been prepared for this very ritual. The blonde vampire lay bound in the middle of the room, still unconscious. The vessel was here, almost ready for the High One. They just needed to speed a few things along…

The High One cut his palm, mixing in his royal blood, sealing the mixture. It flared with other worldly light, the spell taking full effect. With the humming in the background, the mixture was carefully spread over the vampire’s slightly distended stomach, looking vibrant against his pale skin. The remnants were poured down the unconscious man’s throat.

“Behold, my vessel!” the High One intoned. The chanting increased in volume, coming faster and more urgent. The ointment started glowing, and something rippled within the vampire.

***

“Where is he?” Buffy growled. Giles looked at his charge, safely on the other side of the room. He could have sworn her eyes were glowing and she was growling. Willow was so freaked out that she’d set fire to two Sunnydale maps with failed locator spells before Tara had taken over, for the safety of them all.

“Buffy, I’m sure we’ll find him in due course.” Glittering green eyes bored into him.

“Giles is right, honey,” Joyce’s soothing voice broke through. Suddenly, the Slayer vanished and a teary expectant mother was simultaneously threatening vengeance with a creativity that had Anya perking up and shaking with fear and going through a list of increasingly scary scenarios.

“He could be hurt! What about the baby? Oh, I’m going to pull out everyone of their hairs—one at a time! I'm going to—“

“I found him!” Tara burst into the room, slightly breathless. “He’s in the high school.”

“Naturally,” Buffy muttered darkly, before grabbing a rather hefty axe and striding out into the night.

***

He was never drinking again. A troll had taken up residence in his brain and was currently building a ten-story mansion. He opened his eyes but quickly shut them again as the world spun and his stomach rolled. His stomach…that felt really very weird. Actually, something was pressing rather harshly against most of his internal organs; laying on his back was really painful. It was a good thing none of those organs were necessary anymore. Squashing down his nausea, Spike opened his eyes.

Holy. Buggerin’. Fuck.

Spike stared at his stomach in disbelief. It was HUGE. So much for his abs. This had to be a spell. And spells on babies were bad. His vision turned red at the thought of anyone harming his child. Head were going to roll. Almost as soon as the killing rage had engulfed him, the life inside of him moved. Spike’s mouth was open in a perfect O. Was that…? Sure enough, something brushed against him, a feather touch against the inside of his stomach. He smiled, and then winced as the baby landed a blow against one of his kidneys. Definitely Buffy’s child.

“Ah, he is awake!” The voice echoed through the cavernous location. Spike berated himself for getting caught up in his child and not assessing his surroundings. He was in a large space, tied down by…his brow crinkled. Floss? He was almost mummified by hundred of tiny ropes staked to the floor. What the hell was going on? He felt something tug against his sleeve and bit back an astonished laugh.

“I am the High One. Exalt in my presence, and feel honored that you are the bearer of my vessel. The world will tremble before me!”

“You must be joking.”

***

Buffy burst through the school doors, determination in every line of her body. Whoever stole her mate and baby was in BIG trouble.

“Buffy! Wait!” Xander called out. But there was no stopping her. She was a woman with a mission. She swept the first floor, ending up in the library, but found nothing.

“Buffy, do calm down, we—“

“Find Spike,” she commanded. Giles sighed; talking to Buffy in this state would be an effort in futility.

“I-I-I can do it,” Tara said. She concentrated. A glowing ball appeared in her hand, floating a couple of inches above the palm of her hand. “Find Spike.” It zipped away, zooming down the hall, Buffy hot on its tail.

It sped down the hall, into the basement, winding through the maze that was the basement—who the hell built this place?—and through a closed door. Buffy regarded it briefly, before bursting in, brandishing her axe.

“Spike, I’m…” Buffy froze, taking in the scene before her.

“’allo, luv. Here to join in the fun?”

***
Spike ogled the little purple thing in front of him. It looked like a tye-died smurf on acid, with glowing violet eyes and a covered in a bright read cloak, with yellow and green trim. Someone needed to introduce it to a fashion magazine…or at least complementary colors. Oh, and it stood about five inches tall. He was living Gulliver’s Travels.

A small pebble struck Spike on the cheek.

“Ow!”

“Humble yourself before the High One!” The deep, rumbling voice coming from a five-inch-tall purple demon with orange Mohawks was just too much. He started laughing, uprooting ‘The High One’ from his perch and sending the pompous ass tumbling to the floor. This sent the ‘High One’ and its mini-creature minions into a mêlée. They started poking him with tiny pointy sticks. He vamped out and snapped at them, tired of these games.

With a growl, he pulled himself up, easily upending the small ropes that bound him. Well, he actually rolled up. Trying to navigate his suddenly bulky belly was not easy. He staggered to his feet, looking down and the tiny, dancing things hopping around in outrage and demanding he bow in supplication to the High One and make amends. Spike looked at the ‘High One’ in question and, quite deliberately, sent it flying across the room into the wall. The dancing purple people all froze, and as one began wailing in outrage. Their unnaturally deep voices were giving Spike a headache, and if the movement in his belly was any indication, baby didn’t like it either.

“How about we take care of this, eh Bitty?” He took the kick against his stomach as agreement and began putting his Docs to good use.

Spike was taking perverse delight in stomping each and every one of them into the ground when Buffy burst into the room, eyes blazing and axe swinging. He took a moment to admire his blazing, beautiful mate.

“’allo, luv. Here to join in the fun?”

He smirked at her slack-jawed expression.

“What…” He could see that she was having trouble wrapping her head around the situation. “THESE things kidnapped you???”

“Yep,” Spike growled, taking out two of the annoying buggers.

“But…how? They’re like…tiny.” She shrank daintily away from a group of the creatures now brandishing tiny pointy needles at her.

“Magic doesn’t take size into account, pet. ‘sall relative. A sacrifice is a sacrifice. ”

The Scoobies chose that moment to come in for support, geared for battle.

“Oh, Ghlomeshgahs!” Anya exclaimed with mild interest, daintily avoiding a little puddle of purple goo.

“Awe, they’re cute!” Xander exclaimed reaching down to pet one. He was rewarded by being stabbed in the hand.

“Anya, what are you talking about?” Giles asked

“Ghlomeshgahs. They’re vicious little creatures, quite blood thirsty and bent on world domination; only they’re a bit small, so they’re constantly looking for ways to get bigger. They used to be smaller than that, but they invaded and took over a fae colony once upon a time. Oh, and they don’t reproduce by having sex, which is a complete waste of time.”

They all turned their attention back to the ugly purple/orange creatures.

“Well, I feel a lot better about doing this then,” Buffy muttered darkly as she stepped on a group of protesting minidemons. Spike laughed and booted another handful into the wall. He was aiming for another group when a small twinge brought him up short. What was that?

Xander was baseball-batting a few of the rapidly dwindling creatures, who were starting to scatter and run for the hills (so to speak) when the twinge came again, a little bit stronger and a good deal more painful. He sucked in his breath and clutched at his stomach. God, what WAS that?? Another pain followed, again stronger, and he had to grit his teeth to keep from crying out.

“Spike?” Tara’s concerned voice asked. “You OK?” Spike tried to speak, but another wave of crippling pain hit him.

“What the bleedin’ fuck!” he gasped out. Tara put her hand over Spike’s stomach, her eyes widening as she felt the rippling of the muscle underneath.

“Oh no.” She was arrested by Spike’s demanding, and slightly scared, blue eyes.

“What? What’s wrong? Is the baby…”

“You’re in labor!”