Recombination

Wesley winced as he heard the plaintive cries emanating from the bedroom. He sighed realizing that not only would the cries get louder if he didn't move straight away and instead ignored them, but that he would feel overwhelming guilt for the next few hours and would have no way to right it.

He was halfway across the room before he realized it, each step moving faster than the previous until he entered his bedroom at a quick run, his eyes fixed on the crib in the corner.

Though the girl was old enough, in physical appearance at least, not to use a crib he felt safer knowing she couldn't (as far as he knew) get out. He was by the crib in a second. Deep brown eyes, overflowing with tears that ran down thin cheeks stared accusingly at him and Wesley felt the panicky need to do something, anything to make things right.

With cheeks rosy from crying Annemarie opened up her mouth letting loose another cry that rivaled any other member of her families. Unlike the normal lusty cry of a toddler, hers was the plaintive cry of a very young infant the kind that instinctively had you running and in a panic.

Wesley picked her up taking care to mould her against his chest, crooning to her. He laid her head onto his chest directly over his heart. He'd learned after a few days of having her that the sound of his heartbeat soothed her though he wasn't sure why. Maybe the woman who had carried her had had a loud enough heartbeat for Annemarie to hear in the womb or maybe her hearing was as exceptional as her fathers.

He sighed in relief, as the cries grew softer as Annemarie nuzzled against him clinging to his shirt. She was still crying but it was soft hiccuppy sound. He sighed again as both of their trembles subsided; hers from the sickness that ailed her, his from shear relief.

He carried her slowly to the kitchen setting two bottles on the side, filling them. He poured hot water into a saucepan and placed them both to warm. Rubbing his head he sat back onto the sofa, unable to shake the cries from his head as she hiccupped against him. She wasn’t biologically his child but Wesley had become extremely attached to her, regardless how much she cried.

Annemarie yawned snuggling against his chest, enjoying the warmth against her cooler body. She looked up at him, from under her lashes and Wesley switched her to an almost-lying position in the crook of his arm. He bit his lip as an almost painful feeling settled on his heart as they studied each other. Sooner or later he'd have to give her up; the fact tore at him with ever-increasing intensity everyday and he had found, on several occasions, that he was starting to deeply hate himself. It was true, he had cared for Connor and grieved for the baby in his own way but he hadn't suffered the deep emotional loss Angel had when Connor had been kidnapped. Was it his punishment to go through the same with Annemarie? *Same game, different players? * He wondered. He swallowed hard, he hoped it wasn't true, prayed to god and the powers that be that it wasn't. Surely it wasn't right to deny Angel the opportunity to know and care for his daughter? Was this Wesley's redemption or punishment?

He crooned to the toddler peacefully asleep in his arms, meaningless words, phrases, some not even human passing his lips. Deep down there were three things he was deeply afraid of and surprisingly none of those three had anything to do with Angel’s revenge on him or Connor’s mysterious reappearance as a teenager.

No his fears were more complex. The number one being that that Annemarie would be kidnapped or stolen from him, be it by Angel or a faceless stranger. His second was that Angel (if he returned) or one of his `team', seeing the child as half vampire, half human, may try to destroy her, or a slayer might get her even though Wolfram and Hart had conducted numerous tests proving that she had a soul.

His last fear was that Annemarie would die. Die; not be killed.

He studied her sleeping face. It was now extremely thin although she was beginning to slowly regain her lost weight. The bones on her ribs and collarbones were sticking out and she had been becoming in essence a human skeleton. Blue/black shadows lay under her eyes and the only colour she ever had was when she cried. Her skin was almost transparent, the deep blue veins clearly obvious and the sleep suit she wore hung off her. Aside from crying she rarely had any energy to do anything and yet she'd only really been started to sleep for the first time in four days.

He felt a sardonic smile catch on his lips, he was definitely sympathizing with her on the not sleeping- considering they slept in the same room. He stroked her cheek, smiling at her answering murmur although he did not recognize it. There was one thing to be glad of though, she would be able to speak in time, and her vocal cords were undamaged. Rubbing his neck at the memory of his own vocal cords being compromised he rocked her gently.

Since Wesley had started taking care of the toddler, after receiving a nice a birth certificate naming him as the father courtesy of Lilah, Annemarie had been acting strangely. For the first few days he had believed, incredulous as it sounded that the child missed Lilah. She'd just sat silently at his table reading all day and occasionally eating. He'd seen to his revulsion the book of her choice, Lilah’s little present- Dante's Inferno.

Wesley's eyes were fixed on the child but his mind was far away; she was so little, so innocent and so much like her father. Her eyes, her hair, even her incessantly awful screaming reminded him of Angels’ Karaoke attempts. He had to admit he would have preferred her to have Darla's voice although he could not vouch for her vocal talents. At least Annemarie could use her voice now; the first time she'd cried a few days after he'd taken her, it had been one of the most gut wrenching things he had ever experienced. He had always been convinced that truly grief stricken people cried silently, as she had done. He had walked into the bedroom to give her some food and had frozen to see the forlorn eyes staring at him, the silent tears running down her face. He hadn't known what to do and had awkwardly picked her up and tried to feed her something. His fear had only intensified when she'd vomited it back up minutes later.

Several days later, Annemarie still hadn't kept anything down, not even blood. In desperation he had tried soup and human blood- his own to be precise. After taking a deep breath he had scratched his penknife along his arm, earning himself an interesting scar, but still she refused to eat the blood merely dripping to the carpet. Wesley had thought she would have nothing left in her stomach but still she vomited. Panic settling he had contacted Rupert Giles to beg for his help. At first the ex-watcher had been dismissive and condemning having heard Angel’s version of events courtesy of Willow. Wesley had pleaded his case including some of his less commonly used phrases such as "get your head out of your arse Rupert!"

When Giles had grudgingly heard him out interjecting a few `good lord' and `oh my days' at the existence of Annemarie, Wesley had explained her symptoms pretending he was talking about a demon baby who he was researching in case Wolfram and Hart had bugged his phone. He'd delicately tried to give Giles the impression that `people could be listening in' and the watcher had demanded to know the girls symptoms and the sources Wesley's previous contacts hypothesis, some of which were preposterous.

Something had clicked with Giles and he'd explained that her sudden immense intelligence could have been caused by something Wolfram and Hart were unknowingly giving her and that her symptoms were classic withdrawal symptoms. It explained her sudden reversion to a baby's maturity as she went through withdrawal. Wesley had poured over Lilah’s sheet, yet the only thing he had found was that the law firm having unlimited wealth had been feeding her rich, high fat foods and on Wesley's meager budget, she was now on low fat.

Hesitantly proposing this to Giles, the two had unexpectedly come up with the theory that as with a human baby having a metabolic disorder the high fat in conjunction with human blood had kept Annemarie’s body
at normal albeit high growth patterns and brain power. Withdrawal down to such low levels so suddenly had caused her body to begin rejecting all food including blood. Wesley had wanted to call out for pizza and fries and chocolate, anything to make her well but Giles had advised caution. Too rich a sudden intake may have been catastrophic. He advised that they treat her much in the way a 20 a day smoker trying to quit was treated, however instead of patches they would try slightly rich food and then gradually lower the levels to set her body to normal, or slightly advanced human levels.

So instead Wesley had picked up the tiny toddler, raced down to the supermarket and a kind old lady had recommend he feed her milk or rather a milk formula. Settling for the highest in fat, SMA gold top, he'd also grabbed cookies, cake, less fat formula to wean her off SMA steadily and it was back to the apartment via a quick steal through the blood banks. His agenda in place Wesley had prepared the high fat formula in a bottle. She may have been old enough for a kiddie cup but he had wanted to feed her himself. Tentatively he had coaxed the nipple into her mouth and watched with suppressed hope as she'd begun to cautiously suckle.

A few minutes later, she had begun to suck with vigor and the mind-numbing relief had set in. Although it was true that often that sickly babies and newborns often inadvertently push their mother and father away, they had bonded more over those days and he now deeply cared for Annemarie. His mind snapped back to the present as she stirred slightly in his arms. It was slow going but she was now beginning to drink the blood and he was hoping her weight would increase.

His minor heart attack over, they were just beginning to settle into a routine when the call came. Wesley sighed and carried Annemarie back into the bedroom, taking care to tuck her into the crib and set the baby monitor on before walking back to relax onto the sofa his now-cold tea in his hand.

When the PI he had hired had informed him of Justine's sudden reappearance he had realized why she left. It made sense especially when coupled with her and Connor’s meeting and their deep love for Holtz. Had Wes not become a suspicious man he would have dismissed it but when she was overheard, drunkenly crowing about victory over vampires and giggled about Angel being in grave danger his investigator had phoned him. Sadly she'd mouthed off to the wrong people- vampires; and now bits of her were being found throughout the city.

Wes was torn, he felt indebted to Angel to repay hum but on the other hand his anger at Angel’s betrayal made him want to ignore the information. No matter what happened he couldn't give Annemarie up, not even to her own father. She was the only person who truly needed him and wanted him, he loved her.

He sat down on the bed his head in his hands. It wasn't just the guilt that made him want to take care of her. The first time she had drunk blood, he'd been mesmerized by the appearance of two tiny fangs and the shift to gold in her eyes. No lumps though, something he was thankful for, but even gold and cat-like her eyes were mirror images of her father’s and he'd become lost in the past, lost in the future too, or his version of the future.

In his reoccurring dream-come-fantasy Angel would see him and Annemarie together and beg for forgiveness. He couldn't think about it without a deep shame burning into his mind, he loved the daughter and he loved the father. Two different types of love, both intense, both he was unworthy of receiving back although he saw the love shining in the child’s eyes. One he craved for but would never come about, one he never wished to lose.

He sighed; he had to act now before it was too late, if it wasn't too late already. He phoned Giles and spoke quietly to him. She was now fit enough to travel the three hour drive back to Sunnydale, her new home.