Rosemary Cherry's Baby

TITLE: Rosemary Cherry's Baby

SERIES: Spam and Umad AU #5 (Popular/Buffy X-over Pt 5-- sequenced after "Menacing the Phantom Clone")

PAIRING/RATING: Nicole/Willow, Sam/Dawn; "R" just in case (for language/violence/implied sexual contact/ bizarre religious rituals)

DISCLAIMERS: The following shows and characters are the creative properties of Joss Whedon (Buffy) and Ryan Murphy (Popular); I'm tweaking them slightly.

SPOILERS: Not really...you've seen it all before...

SUMMARY: Sam meets her "sappho-lifemate" Dawn's family and friends (and vice-versa) as their budding romance blossoms...

A/N: The usual spelling atrocities and stumbling prose ahead; I stubbed my toes on a couple of these paragraphs...I have since started typing with my fingers...

"N-n-noo baby," Sam moaned/panted/purred. "N-n-no more! Come back up here you!" She looked down between her legs, knees raised and bent at (the) right angles, her heels burrowing into the mattress...

She watched her young lover's face rising as bright as the sun as if to dry her damp & matted brown bush--the now slightly crooked part in Dawn's long brown hair; her freckled forehead coming into view. Sam giggled as Dawn wagged her eyebrows like Groucho Marx; then sighed contentedly as she lost herself first in Dawn's honest, big baby blues, and all over again in that sweet, innocently mischievous smile...

Dawn dipped back down for a farewell kiss to Sam's other lips, and began a trail of feather-light kisses up Sam's quivering, ticklish body. The brunette lay her head back, closed her eyes and concentrated on the younger girl's tender caresses.

She felt Dawn's long, silky hair gently brushing her hips, her ribs, her breasts as Dawn slowly worked her way up. She felt the girl's warm, wet breath against her skin; she imagined the sight that accompanied the sensation of Dawn's small, firm breasts dragging up over her belly; those pale pink nipples hardening with the contact...Sam's rose-colored nipples responding in kind as Dawn whipped her thick mane back and forth over them, reaching up and bending Sam's limp arms above her head, pinning them there as she continued her sweet torture...

Sam's eyes clenched tight, her breath in short gasps, biting her full lower lip to stifle her moans. She felt Dawn's hair on her shoulders and yet...it morphed every so gradually from silky softness to something coarse; abrasive...Dawn's short, labored breaths becoming hotter, heavier somehow...And when Sam opened her eyes--the expected view of her bedroom ceiling framing her lover's young face was replaced by stark, rough stone lit by a wavering, low-burning firelight. The only lover she'd ever known replaced by a dark, oppressing hooded/cloaked figure holding her pinned to a slab...an altar! Her arms now shackled above her head, unable to move as the first mysterious, menacing figure is now joined by two others...All of Sam's other senses come into play now as the terror engulfs her--The "Groove Armada" CD they'd had lowly serenading them had given way to an ever- increasing primal chant...The strawberry scented candles over- whelmed by the unsavory aroma of the rancid (animal?) fat burning in the torches...The figure straddling her slowly pulled off it's coarse, woven hood and---

Sam awoke bathed in a sea of sweat; drowned in an roaring wave of her own screams...

"Jeez, Sammy! Curdle my blood, why don't you?!?" Brooke shot at her, as Sam staggered into their shared bathroom. The blonde laid down her hairbrush, grabbed a few "necessity" lotions and potions off the counter-top, did a final, satisfied re-con in the mirror and left...Left the brunette to cringe terrified in the shower...

How many times in the last month has she had that dream? Always the same, yet each time more vivid, more ~real~ than the last...Nic had told her that Willow; Dawn; the whole Sunnydale gang were into some weird-ass mojo. She'd even witnessed some herself, that day when she and Dawn first met...And how much did she really ~know~ about this girl anyway?!?

Sam struggled to recall the details...Still uncynical enough to believe in the possibility of "love at first sight", she wondered if that was what she was really feeling. The (seemingly) mutual desire and attraction (and "amicable repulsion") that she and Dawn had instantaneously felt for each other when they'd first met 4 Saturdays ago... The fact that she had consummated a romantic/physical/ emotional relationship so eagerly/abandonly--and with another girl, at that!--even now, left Sam in a state of total be- wilderment... Not to mention their second "date"--that week-long, epic, dream-like, cross-country sojourn to Iowa (which btw, she was ~still~ grounded for...)--which only further amplified her sense of confusion...Was that it? Had that crafty little temp- tress enchanted her? To what end? And, honestly, did she really mind that much--well, you know--except that whole "horrific nightmare" baggage that seemed to accompany it...So many questions; the investigative journalist within her surfacing... She'd go to the source: Nicole had gotten her into this mess, maybe she (ugh!) was the way out...

"Hmmm, gee, I'd love to help you Spam," Nic distractedly offered, "but to be honest, Red and I don't really talk that much--if you know what I mean... Wil's got this delusion that she has to spare me from "The Dark Side", or whatever, so yeah, I humor her, I mean ~Hell-o, wall-to-wall orgasms here! Thank you~."

OK, so Nicole was NO help...And come to think of it--How much did she really know about Nicole for that matter? I mean, there had to be reasons her clique (ok, so mostly Sam) had christened the blonde "Satan"; could it be a subliminal warning trying to surface?

"Get a grip McPherson!" Sam chagrined herself, "Paranoid much?" She tried to map out possible reasons for the dreams--

a) the emergence of her apparently latent homosexuality
b) her recent intro/immersion into the occult, and
c) her morbid fear of meeting her girlfriend's big sister

--"Ha! Truth will out!" She continued chastising herself, "The same underlying fear which has gripped you your whole life-- You're scared some superior blonde is going to kick your scrawny, inadequate, unpopular ass!"

"Just call her!" Sam instructed herself. Just hearing her Sweet Baboo's voice should alleviate her fears...

"Hello?...HELLO?!?" Buffy huffed into the phone. "Grrr," she growled, slamming down the receiver--if these crank calls kept coming she'd have to spring for Caller ID...Which she most assuredly couldn't afford on "Double Meat Palace" pay--which reminded her that she--

a) was already late...and
b) was in the process of showering/changing when the call had interrupted her...

Sam fared little better by calling the Magic Box. Dawn wasn't there; just Xander and Anya, so Sam queried Xander for any insight--

"So these dreamy, monk-thingies" he began, "did they look like Hobbits with leprosy?...Hello?...Sam?"

"Arrgh! This is insane!" Sam snarled. There was only one place to get the answers that seemed to be avoiding her--the Internet! "Willow's not the only super-hacker!" Sam smirked as she did an AOL search for "Sunnydale+Wierd-ass Mojo"...

Three sleepless days and nights later she finally folded her laptop closed in frustration. Her countless hours of research had yielded 1 site for a TV show based on Buffy's likeness, and 973 Wahoo! Groups where people had posted all their deviant sexual fantasies about her...which of course, left Sam even more leery of meeting her...

Exhausted, Sam collapsed face-first onto her laptop in a deep and troubled slumber. Fuelled by sleep-deprivation and the consumption of 8 1/2 litres of highly caffeinated soft drinks her nightmares took on an unprecedentedly eerie, surreal quality...She awoke with a start 12 hours later-- her face in a puddle of her own drool; and one terrifying image burnt forever in her mind's eye--Beneath the cloak of the head monk she'd chanced the briefest glimpse of Blonde hair and....a Glamazon uniform! Her deductive, investigative mind reaching the only possible conclusion-- Nicole, Dawn and Willow were a coven intent on offering Sam to their Dark Lord in a bizarre ritual-sex sacrifice!

Her bravado (and the caffeine) kicking in, Sam decided to play along until she could bust the whole sordid story wide open! She was already envisioning her by-line in the "Rolling Stone"--and OK, if not there, then "Hustler" or the "National Enquirer"...She called Nicole Julian's house, despite the late hour, to bum a ride to Sunnydale. The Butler advising her that "Ms. Julian has already departed for the weekend". Fine; she'd drive herself. The freshly-repaired Spam-mobile had made it as far as Sunnydale once (and even halfway back!)...Hmm, 11:30 PM; if she left now she could cover the 120 or so miles in time for a 7:00 AM breakfast! We can almost imagine the "Mission: Impossible" theme playing as we envision her packing her "Press Kit" (portable camera, recorder and laminated credentials) and sneaking out in defiance of her curfew and current house-arrest...

The fact that Sunnydale was for the most part downhill had enabled the Spam-mobile to arrive in less than half the allotted time. The fact that Mike McQueen was a tightwad (and had postponed replacing it's seriously worn tires until Sam's birth- day next month) had enabled it to suffer 3 flats simultaneously. It was 2:45 AM when she coasted to a stop on campus at U.C. Sunnydale, totally lost...

Sam circled the vehicle, assessing the damage. Three vampires stood in the shadows assessing the easy meal. One Slayer crouched silently above them assessing what asses they were...

Sam dropped her keys and bent down to look for them. The vamps bust a move with the Buffster in hot pursuit. "Why not just wear a sign saying 'Free Blood'!," Buffy mumbled, more to herself, than "the oblivious young co-ed". Two vamps spotted her and peeled off, running parallel thru the hedges. The first, too aroused by the fresh bloodscent to abort. It dove on Sam sending her sprawling face down, landing on top of her, with Buffy a nanosecond behind. She tucked, staked and somersaulted in one smooth, fluid motion; on her feet and in pursuit of the others. Sam looks up in time to glimpse some rude blonde girl not even stopping to apologize for knocking her down and get- ting her covered in gravel dust..."What?!? Is there a sign on my back saying "Blonde Fodder"? or "Kick Me; I'm a Brunette"?"

Sam crawls back in the car deciding to wait until ~*sigh*~ dawn, but the campus bell tower bonging 3 A.M. unnerved her. Like almost everyone else born in the last quarter century, she halfway anticipated the opening chords of AC/DC's "Hells Bells" to chime in...but the UCS audio-visual club (not doubt also bonging...) had qued up "Tubular Bells" (The Exorcist Soundtrack) instead, and it was now emanating thru the entire school P.A. system at ear-piercing decibels--just another reason why there's never a housing shortage near campus...Sam couldn't make heads or tails of the 8 x 10 ft. map she'd unfold- ed in the car's cramped interior, plus this music was weirding her out. She'd made up her mind to hoof it in what she assumed was the general direction of the Magic Box. She'd traversed all of 20 feet, when a thick, eerie fog descended to complete her sudden sense of dread...

Sam had walked for what seemed like hours; but in fact had only been hours...The faintest morning light was just beginning to melt some of the dense fog as Sam pressed on--heel/ toe; heel/toe, her arms flailing blindly, wildly in front of her. She ran head-first into a lamppost, bouncing back into the arms of a helpful, ever-ready good Samaritan--er, no--the evil clutches of 3 sinister, hooded-robe-clad ghouls...

The three whisked our girl Sammy down thru the sewers and into a vast network of tunnels she instantly recognized from her dreams--The wet stone walls barely illuminated by the flickering of small fiery torches. Up a short flight of steps to a cavernous room filled to the brim with state-of-the-art electronic/home entertainment equipment; a pool table; a wet bar; a spa...One monk momentarily breaking off to stand mesmerized in front of a large screen TV tuned to the Home Shopping Network. Then down another flight of stairs to the palatial dungeon proper...

This room too was straight from Sam's dream. She was leaned back and chained wrist and ankle to a huge stone slab. One cloaked figure seating themself across from her as the other two ripped and stripped the clothes from her quivering body.

The seated figure tapped a large septor twice. The two attending her chanted "Anoint and Purify". They proceeded to sponge her with warm, fragrant, sudsy water and feather soft loofas (sp?). Sam's body instantly responding in goose-bumps and hardened nipples as she felt the contrast between the warm water and the cold stone...

The seated figure tapped the septor 3 times. The two at- tending her responded with "Prepare the Bride". A gossamer thin tunic is worked over her head, and tied about her waist with a golden cord; adding a matching headband with veil as well...

Sam was beyond panicked. She mustered the last ounce of courage she had to appeal for mercy--"P-P-Please! Nicole-- Willow! C'mon guys--T-This is some serious shit now..."

The monk on her left, flipped back the coarse hood and leaned in threateningly to address her. "You know Red? And that wicked new bird she's shagging?" Spike asked. So, OK, now Sam was really scared--like ritual sacrifice is worse (?) when it's at the hands of strangers...

"Y-Y-Yes. And I-I'm friends with Dawn--the Slayer's sister!" Sam added threateningly. (What'd she have to lose, right?)

"Get out of town!" Spike bellowed jocularly. "Friends of the Nibblet, eh?" Then eyeing her with a sly, blatantly lustful gaze--"So you're the bit of crumpet that's got Little Bit so excited, then? (and drawing menacingly closer) I can certainly understand why--Fancy a shag before the ritual begins?"

Spike continues, revelling in the terrifying effect he's able to produce as Sam shudders violently. "No? Girls more to your liking then?" he teases, drawing the second monk closer. "Harm, oblige the little lady, will you?"

Sam recoils in dread of what the second monk may appear to be--I mean, with a moniker like Harm...Then knits her eyebrows in befuddlement as she is presented with a pleasant looking young woman. Harmony switches to game-face--"Sure thing, Spikie."

"Argh" Sam groaned, now totally resigned to her fate. "You know what? Just Do It! Behead me; disembowel me, whatever... My only regret is that I died at the hands of Blondes! Pretty damn fitting, don't you think?"

"Oh, Y'all ain't seen tha halfa it Lil' Lady!" the third monk bellowed. Tossing aside the septor, overturning the heavy ornate chair in rising. "Mah brhide is yer Destuny--and mah be- trow-thed yer gunna be!" Mary Cherry decreed, stripping off her drab brown robe; shaking out her golden locks and tugging her short Glamazon skirt into place...

Sam naturally faints, but even Spike and Harmony try to defend her against their beserk former comrade. Mary Cherry strides forth, backhanding both of them into their respective cavern walls. She growls at Spike about how he "owes her big- tyhme fer tha plush new digs"...Harmony's whimpered protests are met with "And y'all ken jist shut yer damn piehole about Frickin' France!"

Finally Buffy arrives to save the day! Well, OK, she was actually standing out in the hall playing mumbly-peg with Mr. Pointy waiting to see how it'd play out...Sam awakens just in time to see Spike and Harm beat feet. As Buffy makes a token effort at pursuit Mary Cherry delivers a parting thought to Sam "This heah ain't ovah yet, Missy McPrissy! Y'all WILL be mine!"

And finally, it's just Buffy and Sam face to face...The silence excruciating, broken only by a slow, far-off drip of water. Buffy circles Sam's shackled form slowly, dragging her stake gratingly against the surface of the rocks...She pulls up the chair in front of the frightened, speechless brunette. She sits, crosses her leg and swings it rhythmically as she appears to contemplate her words--

"You know, now might be a good time to hear about your intentions towards my little sister..."

"Gulp," Sam gulped, suddenly feeling a new degree of trapped.

An hour later the bell on the Magic Box door tinkled startling the three--well two--agitated young women fretting away at the research table. Dawn squealed and raced across the room to embrace an equally emotional Sam.

Willow supplied the unnecessary narrative--"Buffy, Thank the Goddess! We found Sam's car and..."

Buffy joined Willow and Nicole; the latter sitting at the table applying yet another clear-coat to her nails. The three watched the two younger women's bubbly, sappy reunion as Sam and Dawn kissed each other's tears away and cooed reassurances to one another...

"Buffy--" Willow began nervously. "Y-You know I love Dawnie-- OK yeah, so sometimes I might not keep as watchful eye on her as I should--but, I've got to tell you...I think this Sammy thing she's got going...is of the good."

"Relax, Wil" the blonde said around her sad smile. Then, overtly perky as if she hereby decrees it--"I've already given The Slayer Seal of Approval!"

Nicole makes with a strange guffaw/chokey noise, then waving her bottled water at the two, pats her chest and coughs-- "Sorry *ahem* wrong pipe..."

Willow backs her old friend up a few steps, then all giddy- like whispers---"Sooo? You never told me what you think of MY new girl?!?"

Buffy leans to the side to look over Willow's shoulder. Nic is staring straight at her blowing on her nails. Buffy leans back, unconsciously (?) using the redhead as a shield--"I...I think she's pure unadulterated EVIL. Do you want me to stake her for you--because I---"

"Stop it!" Willow bubbled, assuming Buffy had been kidding.

"As long as you're happy Wil..." Buffy shrugged. She gave her friend a hug; and over Willow's shoulder, matched Nicole in a stare-down. Buffy accented her stance by twirling Mr. Pointy solely for Nic's "benefit". The short-haired blonde just winking, and wiggling her fingers non-chalantly as if to aid in the polish drying...

tbc (whether you like it or not...) }:o)