The Summers house is quiet for once.
No slayer research. No Dawn blasting music upstairs. No Buffy pacing holes into the floor worrying about the next apocalypse.
Just you.
And the small plastic stick sitting on the bathroom counter.
Your hands tremble slightly as you stare at it, heart pounding so loudly it almost drowns out the ticking clock on the wall. The room smells faintly of Dawn’s strawberry shampoo and the harsh bite of disinfectant, but your stomach still churns unpleasantly.
Late period. Tender breasts. Nausea every morning.
At first you’d brushed it off.
Stress. Patrols. Not sleeping enough.
But after the third morning of nearly throwing up into the sink, the thought crept in and refused to leave.
Now here you are.
You glance down again.
Two pink lines.
Your stomach drops.
“No… no, that’s not…” you whisper, shaking your head as if the test might suddenly change its mind.
But the lines stay.
Bright. Clear.
Positive.
Your knees feel weak as you sink down onto the closed toilet lid, staring at the test like it personally betrayed you.
“That’s impossible,” you mutter.
Because it is.
Vampires can’t reproduce.
That’s vampire biology 101. Dead bodies don’t exactly make babies.
And the only person you’ve been with in the past year is Spike.
Spike.
Your heart twists painfully at the thought of him. His smug grin, the way he looks at you like you hung the bloody moon, the softness he only shows when it’s just the two of you.
He’d laugh.
Not cruelly… but he’d never believe it.
Hell, you barely believe it.
Which leaves exactly one person who might have an answer.
Giles looks up from the ancient tome spread across his desk as you enter the Magic Box.
The bell above the door jingles softly.
“Ah—hello,” he says, adjusting his glasses. “I thought Buffy was meeting me today.”
You close the door behind you, clutching your jacket tighter around yourself.
“Buffy doesn’t know.”
Giles immediately notices the tension in your voice. His brows knit together in concern.
“Is something wrong?”
You pause.
Then you pull the pregnancy test from your pocket and set it gently on the table in front of him.
Giles blinks.
Then blinks again.
“…Oh dear.”
“Yeah,” you say weakly, rubbing your temples. “That’s pretty much the reaction I had.”
He clears his throat awkwardly.
“And… the father?”
You give him a flat look.
“Spike.”
Giles freezes.
For a solid five seconds he just stares at you like you’ve told him the moon is made of cheese.
“That’s… not possible,” he says carefully.
“I KNOW,” you groan, dropping into the chair across from him. “Which is why I came here! Because unless immaculate conception is suddenly back in style, something weird is going on!”
Giles exhales slowly, slipping into research mode.
“Right… yes… well. If there is an explanation, it would likely be buried in older texts.”
He stands, already moving toward the shelves.
“Give me a moment.”
Books begin piling onto the table.
Dusty volumes. Demon lore. Prophecies. Forgotten myths.
Minutes stretch into nearly an hour.
You’re starting to think this was pointless when Giles suddenly stops turning pages.
“…Good lord.”
Your head snaps up.
“What?”
Giles slowly adjusts his glasses, staring down at the page like it personally offended him.
“There… appears to be a legend.”
You lean forward anxiously.
“What kind of legend?”
He clears his throat.
“In extremely rare circumstances… a vampire may regain… certain human capabilities.”
Your stomach flips.
“How?”
Giles hesitates.
Then reads from the text.
“When a vampire finds the soul meant for them — their true mate — the bond between death and love may awaken life once more.”
You stare at him.
“…Meaning?”
Giles closes the book slowly.
“It suggests that if a vampire finds their soulmate… their true love…”
He meets your eyes.
“…they may be capable of fathering a child.”
The room falls completely silent.
Your heart pounds in your ears.
Spike’s voice echoes in your mind.
“Got a thing for you, pet. Always will.”
Your hand instinctively drifts to your stomach
“Oh God”